This morning my husband found a mole in our attic. I don’t know whether the mole was alive or dead having been caught snacking on the peanut butter-laced traps we leave to catch the mice that are currently wintering in the uppermost regions of the house.
Frankly, I’m not even convinced it was an actual mole because moles like to live underground and attics are quite a ways above ground. Could it have been a weasel, or a vole or just a disfigured mutant rat?
In honor of this puzzling occasion which has already brought a pest control company to help us with the mice-and I guess now our moles- we will take a look at moles. Together we will ponder how it came to rest it’s weary extra-thumbed (the digit is called a prepollex) forepaws in our attic. Here’s hoping the rest of the creatures from Grahame’s Wind in the Willows stay near the river and out of my house.