Ok, I Know It's Soppy, but Moles Have Feelings, Too First Word
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Summary
THE pest-control officer on the radio sounded like a decent enough chap. Who am I to condemn him just because he spends his working hours despatching rats and wasps and other unwanted visitors with an ingenious array of chemicals and traps? He's probably as fond of animals and multi-legged creatures as anyone, so long as they're in the right place at the right time.
Even so, listening to this hired assassin describe the ways in which he goes about exterminating Britain's recently mobilised army of moles was not conducive to a happy breakfast. Words like strychnine and gas should never be heard in connection with the velvet gentlemen, a species which for me at least has been worthy of almost equal rights with the human race since first encountering it in The Wind in the Willows. The thought of Mole clawing his way towards the spring sunlight, only to pop his head above ground and be dunted to death with a spade is awful. Even worse that he should die in agony from strategically placed poison. Who cares that legions of Olympic diggers are quietly undermining the livelihood of farmers and destroying manicured suburban lawns? Moles have feelings too.See the full content of this document
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Ok, I Know It's Soppy, but Moles Have Feelings, Too First Word
That, at least, is the sentimental argument you'll hear from those of us who were irreparably shaped in our formative years by writers such as Kenneth Grahame. Some, like me, may have been...
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