There’s a mole in the bucket, dear Jim, dear Jim,

There’s a mole in the bucket, dear Jim, a mole.

With what shall I get rid of it, dear Abby, dear Abby,

With what shall I get rid of it, dear Abby, with what?

In our basement, there is a hole in the cement floor.  In that hole in the cement floor, there is a deep plastic kitty litter bucket in which the sump pump once lived.  In that deep plastic kitty litter bucket, there are lots of little holes poked through so that water can drain out.  And so we dump the water from our dehumidifier down through the hole, the plastic bucket, and the tiny holes.

Two minutes after Jim left for work this morning, I went merrily down to the basement to empty that very full dehumidifier.  And, whistling a happy little tune to myself, while thinking of whole wheat toast with strawberry jam and a steaming cup of tea, I started pouring the water down into the bucket.

“Hmmmmm,” I thought, “That water in the bottom of the bucket looks pretty murky.  Hmmmmm.”  So I looked a little more carefully.  And screamed, like a girl, then jumped  a couple of feet into the air, as I realized that there was a mole in the bottom of the bucket in severe danger of drowning in the sudden deluge of water.  Luckily for the mole, my girly panic subsided quickly enough that I stopped pouring the water in, and the couple of inches of water that were in there quickly drained out, leaving only a very wet and very scared star-nosed mole.

What does an animal-loving girl do after finding a mole trapped in her basement, just after her big strong husband has left for work?  First she thinks about providing an escape route for the mole – one which does NOT involve human-mole contact – and ultimately decides on the admittedly ridiculous solution of putting a yardstick down into the bucket for this digging, not climbing, animal.  Then she dials 1-800-CALL-DAD and asks the master for advice.  Unfortunately, Dad’s advice was wholly practical (“take the bucket out of the hole and dump the mole outside”) and not easily accomplished by a wimp.  He was right, of course.  But I wasn’t willing to do that – yet. 

So the mole sat in the bucket with the yardstick all day while I was at work, and when I came home it had clearly tried (and failed) to climb that slim slippery piece of wood, since the yardstick had moved significantly.  Time for Plan B: I went to our wood pile and found a log that would be long enough, and carefully inserted this log into the bucket without harming the mole.  Guess what?  Plan B didn’t work, either. 

I went back upstairs and contemplated what to do.  Should I get some worms from the compost pile to sustain the mole until Jim got home at 8:30?  That idea was quickly dismissed as, well, silly and overreactive.  So I took a deep breath and went back down to pull the bucket out of the hole in the floor.  Only the bucket is fully settled and imbedded in that hole, and wasn’t about to budge.

Time to come up with Plan C.  To help my thinking, I called my trusty dad again, and asked if he had any ideas, which he didn’t.  So I ran my crazy idea by him:  what if I took the empty 32 ounce Chobani yogurt container from the recycle bin, lowered that plastic tub into the deep bucket using fireplace tongs, tipped the Chobani tub on its side, waited for the mole to climb in, then gently flipped the tub upright and lifted it out of the sump pump bucket into another waiting bucket, using the tongs again…and then carried the mole-filled bucket outside?  Dad was skeptical, but supportive, and I promised to call him if the plan worked.

And it DID!!!  It was a great feeling carrying that bucket outdoors, and tipping it over so that the frantic, terrified, screaming mole could run out and start digging his way back into the ground.  I’m sure the mole was psyched to be out of his plastic prison, but I kinda think I was a little bit happier than he was.  The wimpy animal lover triumphed!  Hooray!!!

P.S.  Mission accomplished while wearing a really cute skirt and ruby red ballet flats.  How’s that for girl power?