Perambulating along the tranquil banks of the Hodder in Lancashire I came across a sight I'd never seen before. A mole graveyard. Except of course the velvet gentlemen in question are not buried here at all. Burying them would seem a little pointless or at least ironic, given their peculiar lifestyle. No these little fellas are impaled on barbed wire for all to see, perhaps to serve as a warning to other burrowing critters that the grim reaper is plying his trade in these here parts.
Bedraggled and eyes pecked-out by birds, these once myopic beauties have been pegged out by the mole catcher. Possibly to demonstrate to the landowner that the task has been completed but also to serve as a sort of macabre abacus to calculate the fee payable. Country folk, ehhh? Very traditional and a touch old fashioned — I love it. Not a Mole Slaughter Calculator App in sight.
And in these parts, they even have their own Lancashire name for a mole — a mowdy.
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