Tag: Moles

Flirty Birds and Pesky Pests

Spring is springing, bulbs are sprouting, the sap is rising and mating season is in full swing. The dawn squawk is dominated by flirty birds in the mood for a little lovin’, and love nests are being adorned with clumps of moss ripped from our cottage roof. I guess our feathered friends are doing us a favour, but it’s hard to appreciate that while I’m sweeping up the downy green slime-bombs carelessly dropped all over our front yard.

And after a five-year gap, the moles are back once more to slaughter worms and decimate our lawn. There are reckoned to be as many as 40 million moles in the UK, and judging by the mini-mountains of mole hills poking up through every patch of open ground hereabouts, it seems like most of ’em live in Norfolk. We’ve been tracking their relentless march beneath the nearby playground and our neighbours’ gardens, and now the tell-tale signs of excavation have appeared along one of our garden fences.

Last time, I counter-attacked with organic repellent and coffee grains. This time, I’ve gone all hi-tech with a German-engineered sonic spike. Apparently, moles are virtually blind and extremely sensitive to sound and vibrations. The spike emits sonic pulses and a high-pitched buzz to piss off the pesky pests.

The jury’s out on whether these fancy devices actually work, but so far so good. We’re keeping everything crossed. Come a summer sizzler and sunny wine time, we don’t want the BBQ toppling into a mole hole and sending under-cooked bangers rolling off the grill.

Chedgrave Common

School’s Out

School’s Out

Fleeting spring warmth, the partial easing of lockdown and the Easter break brought villagers, young and old, out onto the streets to make the most of the fine weather. And we were no exception. Downing tools for the day, we trotted off to Pyes Mill for a spot of lunch by the sparkling waters of the River Chet. The most direct route to the waterside clearing is across a boggy field which the owner has since barred after (allegedly) irresponsible dog walkers allowed Fido and Rover to trouble his cows. These are the same cows who troubled us the first time we ventured across his field forcing us to run for our lives. Just saying.

So we took the circuitous route via graves ancient and fresh, a tunnel of wild foliage, a babbling brook and a couple of country lanes. Pyes Mill was less busy than expected, though there was a swan having a good lick (and who wouldn’t if they could?), a few young families mucking about on the grass and a gang of naughty lads sharing a spliff. Liam can smell a joint at twenty paces.

We found a bench among the molehills and unpacked our picnic. When I say picnic, it was a meal deal from the Co-op. After months under house arrest, alcohol was first on the menu. Drink was drunk but rather too quickly. We regretted not picking up a second bottle when we had the chance. Lesson learned for next time.