What to do? HIde the body....

This afternoon produced a situation in which you really really wish David Attenborough would turn up in his blue shirt and khakis and give you a blow by blow account of what you were looking at.  And to be fair dear reader I wasn't sure what I was looking at....

As ever, most adventures in this neck of the woods (and very nice woods they are too) start with myself, Banana McFly and Collie Wobbles setting out for our walk.  Yesterdays was a lovely 45 minutes in the snow and saw McFly pronking through the frost like a a gazelle, today, the snow had cleared and we headed off under blue skies and frosty air.  McFly, ever the vigilant hunter spent some some stalking a mole hill, poised on three legs, one front paw extended and nose  arched forward, she leaps, she lands and in a flurry of paws like rotator blades within seconds, her whole head is down a hole. Her strike rate isnt great but according to some local "Mole Man"  we only have 3 moles on the property anyway.  You mean 300? or 3000? no ... 3.... erm ...okay...

Anyway... back to Banana McFly who today  hits the jackpot and emerges from the dig with her trophy mole! And a big 'un he is too.  After letting her give him a the requisite neck breaker head shaker move so beloved of dogs, I go over to examine the little chap.  

Rather beautiful really, fantastic front diggers, neat little snout, lovely dusty brown colour... not wearing his boating outfit today I see, but then I did extract a drowned bloated Ratty from the horses water bucket this morning (what CSI would call a "floater") so boating and visiting Toad may not be on the agenda this afternoon. 

Further inspection of Mr Mole reveals that he is a subtle, modest sort of creature and feels soft to touch. Oh dear he' has some straw on him let me just move that off.... oh its... not.... its n..... AAAaaaaahhhhhhh!!!  OMG!!!!  ergggghhhh ...... oooh ..... the blank unholy horror of realising I have just flicked a male mole's protruding unmentionables is just too awful to relive even in memory. Instant panic, sweats, horror, yuck and yuck and also YUCK.

What do I do now? I have just unwillingly participated in some bizarre countryside pornographic mole snuff movie.... what to do?  Nothing for it but to hide the body and act natural.... I grab Mr Mole by one powerful digger, dash across the field to a tree and pat him into the ground under a large piece of moss under a tree and immediately shout- Ballie!! Come along doggies.... act cool and walk away.... just walk away.....I suspect this is one of those (forgive the pun) seminal countryside experiences that will surely never fade from the memory. Ever..... EVER....