When Life Gives You Moles, Apparently You’re Supposed to Give Them Marshmallows?

Living in North Carolina, my dad and I have been locked in an epic battle with moles for what feels like decades. Our lawn looks like a miniature version of the Western Front circa 1917, complete with trenches, craters, and the constant threat of ankle injuries. After years of failed attempts with everything from sonic spikes (the moles apparently enjoyed the vibrations) to flooding their tunnels (we just created luxury underground swimming pools), we stumbled upon the internet’s most bizarre solution: killing moles with marshmallows.

Yes, you read that correctly. Marshmallows. Those fluffy, sugary pillows of childhood campfire memories were supposedly our secret weapon in the Great Mole War.

The Birth of Operation Marshmallow Mayhem

It all started when Dad discovered a forum post claiming that marshmallows would expand in a mole’s stomach and… well, let’s just say it wouldn’t end well for our subterranean nemeses. The theory seemed sound enough: moles can’t digest the sugary goo, it expands with moisture, and goodbye moles.

“Son,” Dad announced one Saturday morning, wielding a bag of jumbo marshmallows like Excalibur, “today we end this war!”

I should have been more suspicious when he cackled maniacally while stuffing marshmallows into mole holes.

The Great Marshmallow Deployment: Attempt #1

Our first assault began at dawn. Armed with industrial-sized bags of marshmallows from Costco (because if you’re going to do something ridiculous, you might as well do it in bulk), we set out across our battlefield of a backyard.

The plan was simple: stuff marshmallows deep into active tunnels, cover them lightly with soil, and wait for our victory parade.

What actually happened: I discovered that trying to shove a marshmallow down a narrow mole tunnel is like trying to thread a needle while wearing oven mitts. Half the marshmallows got stuck at the entrance, creating what looked like tiny white volcanoes across our yard. The other half disappeared into the tunnels, but whether they actually reached any moles was anyone’s guess.

Dad’s contribution to this debacle included getting his hand stuck in a tunnel while trying to push a marshmallow deeper, then pulling so hard he fell backward into our rose bush. I’ve never seen a grown man flail quite so dramatically while covered in thorns and shouting about “tactical marshmallow insertion failures.”

Attempt #2: The Squirrel Intervention

Two days later, we noticed something odd. The marshmallows were disappearing, but not in the way we hoped. Instead of being consumed by doomed moles, they were vanishing overnight.

That’s when we caught our first thief red-handed—or should I say red-pawed? A particularly rotund squirrel was systematically visiting each mole hole like it was running a marshmallow collection route. This furry bandit had apparently discovered the mole-marshmallow buffet and decided to set up his own catering business.

We watched in horrified fascination as this entrepreneurial squirrel stuffed marshmallow after marshmallow into his cheeks until he looked like a furry balloon animal. He’d then waddle away to his tree, presumably to enjoy his sugar rush in private.

“That squirrel is undermining our entire operation!” Dad declared, shaking his fist at the tree where our marshmallow thief lived.

“Dad, I don’t think you can court-martial a squirrel.”

“Watch me!”

Attempt #3: The Great Squirrel Wars

Determined not to be outsmarted by local wildlife, Dad declared war on two fronts: moles AND squirrels. This led to the installation of what I can only describe as a suburban obstacle course designed to thwart marshmallow theft.

Picture this: chicken wire laid over mole holes (with marshmallow insertion slots), motion-activated sprinklers aimed at squirrel approach routes, and Dad hiding behind our garden shed with a Super Soaker, ready to defend our marshmallow arsenal.

The first test of our defenses came at 6 AM on a Tuesday. The motion sprinkler activated, Dad leaped from behind the shed with his water gun, and I watched from the kitchen window as he slipped on the wet grass and slid face-first into the chicken wire. The squirrel, meanwhile, calmly collected marshmallows from the far side of the yard that we’d forgotten to protect.

Mom made me promise to never speak of the incident where Dad got tangled in chicken wire while cursing at a squirrel.

Attempts #4-47: The Madness Continues

What followed was months of increasingly elaborate schemes. We tried:

• Decoy marshmallows (filled with cotton balls—don’t ask)
• Marshmallow guards (yes, Dad built tiny fences around mole holes)
• Night vision marshmallow surveillance (Dad bought military surplus night vision goggles)
• The Great Underground Marshmallow Mine (we dug trenches to place marshmallows deeper—it looked like we were planning to install a sprinkler system)

Each attempt ended the same way: mysterious marshmallow disappearances, Dad muttering about “tactical failures,” and me questioning our family’s sanity.

The low point came when Dad tried to outwit the squirrels by placing marshmallows at 3 AM, only to accidentally step into a mole tunnel and twist his ankle. I found him the next morning, lying on the lawn with his foot in a tunnel, ranting about “underground conspiracies” and “marshmallow cartels.”

The Revelation: Sometimes Victory Looks Like Failure

After three months of this comedy of errors, we’d pretty much given up. The marshmallows kept disappearing, the moles kept tunneling, and our neighbors kept looking at us like we’d lost our minds (which, to be fair, we probably had).

Then came the day that changed everything.

Dad and I were walking our dog behind our house, along the edge of the golf course, when we stumbled upon what I can only describe as a mole graveyard. There, scattered across a small area, were no fewer than twelve deceased moles.

“Holy cow,” Dad whispered, staring at the carnage. “Do you think…?”

“The marshmallows actually worked?” I finished, equally stunned.

It turns out our marshmallow campaign HAD been successful—we just had such a massive mole infestation that it took months to make a dent in the population. While we were busy obsessing over squirrel theft and tactical marshmallow placement, the moles were indeed consuming our sugary weapons of mass destruction and meeting their demise.

We’d been winning the war all along; we just didn’t know it because our enemy had reinforcements we never imagined.

The Great Squirrel Mystery Solved

The discovery also solved the mystery of the disappearing marshmallows. It wasn’t just squirrel theft (though that definitely happened). The moles were actually taking the marshmallows deeper into their tunnel systems to consume later—and apparently sharing them with their extensive underground families.

Our backyard wasn’t just dealing with “a few moles.” We were sitting on top of what essentially amounted to Mole Manhattan, complete with a thriving population that had been enjoying our inadvertent marshmallow delivery service for months.

The Plot Twist: There’s a MUCH Better Way

Here’s where our story takes a turn from slapstick comedy to “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” enlightenment.

While we were waging our months-long marshmallow war, we could have solved our mole problem in MINUTES with proper mole traps. Specifically, the Mole Trap Scissors—those galvanized steel, scissor-style traps that actually work like they’re supposed to.

These aren’t your grandfather’s rusty old traps that require engineering degrees to set up. We’re talking about:

• Durable galvanized steel construction that won’t rust or break after one use
• One-minute setup time (compared to our months of marshmallow madness)
• No digging required—just find an active tunnel, insert, step on it, and wait
• Fast and powerful mechanical design that’s sensitive enough to trigger instantly
• Environmentally friendly—no chemicals, no poison, no sugar-high squirrels
• Multi-purpose—works on moles, voles, and rats

The best part? They work in MINUTES, not MONTHS.

Think about it: while we were staging elaborate marshmallow operations and declaring war on squirrels, we could have simply placed a few of these traps, gone inside for a sandwich, and returned to find our mole problem solved.

Instead, we turned our backyard into a combination of a Three Stooges set and a nature documentary about suburban wildlife behavior.

The Marshmallow Method: Does It Actually Work?

So, will marshmallows kill moles? Based on our accidental three-month field study, the answer is a qualified yes. The marshmallows do expand in their digestive systems and can be lethal.

How to get rid of ground moles with marshmallows? Technically, you stuff them deep into active tunnels and wait. But be prepared for:

1. Squirrel interference (major issue)
2. Slow results (months, not days)
3. Uncertainty about effectiveness (you might not see results for ages)
4. Looking ridiculous to your neighbors
5. Potential family disputes about “tactical marshmallow deployment”

The bottom line: Marshmallows can work, but they’re the least efficient method imaginable. It’s like trying to mow your lawn with nail scissors—technically possible, but why would you do that to yourself?

Lessons Learned from the Great Marshmallow War

After our epic struggle, here’s what we learned:

1. Just because something works doesn’t mean it’s the best solution. Marshmallows might kill moles, but so does a proper trap—and much faster.
2. Always account for local wildlife interference. Squirrels are apparently marshmallow connoisseurs.
3. Sometimes the problem is bigger than you think. We didn’t have “a few moles”—we had Mole City population explosion happening under our feet.
4. The internet’s weirdest solutions aren’t always the smartest solutions. Sometimes the old-fashioned approach (quality traps) beats the viral hack.
5. Document your failures. Our months of marshmallow mishaps make for great dinner party stories.

The Moral of the Story

If you’re dealing with a mole problem, save yourself months of marshmallow madness and invest in proper Mole Trap Scissors from the start. Your lawn, your sanity, and your relationship with local squirrels will thank you.

But if you DO decide to go the marshmallow route, just remember: you’re not just feeding moles, you’re also running a complimentary squirrel catering service. And be patient—apparently, it takes a village to kill a mole colony, even with the power of processed sugar on your side.

As for Dad and me? We still laugh about our marshmallow war, but these days we stick to proper traps. Our backyard looks like an actual lawn again instead of a battlefield, and we’re no longer on speaking terms with the local squirrel population.

Though I have to admit, sometimes I miss the entertainment value of watching Dad wage war on woodland creatures with camping supplies. It was like living in our own personal sitcom—just with more property damage and marshmallow-related injuries.

The End

P.S. – Those Mole Trap Scissors are available on Amazon, and yes, they really do work in minutes. Trust us on this one—we learned the hard way that there’s a difference between a solution that works and a solution that works efficiently. Choose efficiency. Your future self will thank you.