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much as a beagle can cock those floppy ears). But this was all good - a little friendly competition between mole killers.

The next day at work I was bragging about the kill and found that one of my co-workers is an amateur taxidermist, so I approached him about mounting my trophy. I pictured a tasteful mount with the beast striking a menacing pose; something I'd be proud to display in our home. He declined the opportunity. Just as well because I hadn't yet run the idea by my wife, and that would have been a hard sell.

A few years back, a stranger approached us about our moles. I think he'd spied Vlad standing sentry in the back yard. This guy claimed to be doing some research on moles, and promised to capture and relocate them if we'd let him stake out our back yard. He spent hours in a lawn chair, watching sticks he stuck in the ground and taking notes. I never saw him catch a single one, or even try. Besides, the whole thing was a little creepy. I even wondered if he was some kind of enemy agent since he seemed particularly hostile to Vlad. Eventually, we asked him to move on.

My wife wasn't always an ally in the struggle. We were watering out back late one afternoon and heard the trap snap and the shrill death squeal of a mole. She looked at me in horror. "What was that?

I pumped my arm. "That's Vlad delivering the death blow!"

My excitement disturbed her, and when she saw the victim, she got all offended.

"That thing is cruel." she accused, pointing at Vlad. "You have to find some other way to get rid of the moles."

I tried without success to convince her that we had to deal decisively and firmly with the enemy. Then an idea hit me. "You know dear, snakes eat moles, and like all living things, snakes go where the food is."

That did the trick - fear is a powerful motivator.

It could well be that my account of this struggle lands me on a PETA black list, and perhaps I deserve it. Hawkish as I am now, I wasn't always that way. As our political leaders know, it is much easier to get embroiled in conflict than un-embroiled. These things tend to escalate, and there are always the unintended consequences. For instance, one year I successfully drove the enemy from my backyard, only to find that they moved out front.

A couple of weeks ago I lay awake in bed flopping around all tangled up in accumulated guilt. Maybe the mole man and my wife were right, maybe Vlad was evil. There must be a more humane way, a more conciliatory, diplomatic solution.

On my way home the next afternoon

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