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.
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 Discovery That Changed Everything
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.
We practically sprinted home, convinced our marshmallow campaign had finally paid off. We celebrated. We high-fived. Dad even called friends to share the “good news” about our unconventional victory.
For about 48 hours, we were heroes in our own minds. Dad was already drafting a blog post titled “How We Defeated Mole Manhattan with Marshmallows: A Three-Month Victory.”
Reality Comes Crashing Down
But something was nagging at me. The dead moles were all on the golf course side of our property line, yet our yard—ground zero for Operation Marshmallow Mayhem—still had active tunnels everywhere. In fact, a fresh mole hill had erupted that very morning, right where we’d placed our most concentrated marshmallow deployment.
“Dad,” I said on day three of our celebration, “if the marshmallows worked so well over there, why are the moles still throwing parties in our yard?”
Dad’s smile faltered. “Maybe… maybe it takes longer for the marshmallows to work in our soil?”
Even as he said it, we both knew it sounded ridiculous.
That’s when we decided to do something we probably should have done months ago: talk to someone who actually knew what they were doing.
The Conversation That Shattered Our Dreams
The next morning, we spotted the golf course groundskeeper driving his maintenance cart along the property line. We flagged him down, ready to offer our sheepish apologies for the mess our marshmallow operation had caused on his pristine course.
“Hey there!” Dad called out, attempting to sound casual while trying to hide his embarrassment. “We’re really sorry about all those dead moles over there. We’ve been trying this marshmallow method to deal with our mole problem and, well… we might have gone a little overboard. Sorry for any mess on your course.”
The groundskeeper—a weathered gentleman who looked like he’d spent the better part of thirty years maintaining that course—stopped his cart and stared at us with the most confused expression I’d ever seen.
“Marshmallows?” he asked slowly, like he was trying to process a foreign language. “What marshmallows?”
“You know,” I jumped in, feeling my face start to burn, “for killing the moles. We found about a dozen dead ones right along the edge of your course yesterday, and we just wanted to apologize if our… uh… method caused any problems for you.”
The man blinked. Then his weathered face slowly transformed from confusion to what I can only describe as barely-suppressed amusement mixed with profound pity.
“Son,” he said gently, like he was talking to a child who’d just asked if the moon was made of cheese, “those dead moles aren’t from your marshmallows. That’s from our traps.”
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
“Traps?” Dad’s voice came out as barely a whisper.
The Truth About Moles and Marshmallows
“Wire Tek 1001 EasySet Mole Eliminator Traps,” the groundskeeper said, his name tag reading “Alasdair.” “We’ve got them set all over the course. Been using them for fifteen years. Best traps on the market—made right here in the USA. Moles have been a problem on this course since before I started, but these traps handle them like clockwork.”
He paused, looking at our devastated faces. “Wait… you’ve actually been putting marshmallows in mole holes? For three months?”
We nodded, too mortified to speak.
“Why on earth would you do that?” Alasdair asked, genuinely puzzled.
“The internet said…” I started weakly.
Alasdair let out a long sigh and shook his head with the weary wisdom of someone who’d seen it all. “Let me guess—some forum post claimed marshmallows expand in their stomachs and kill them?”
We nodded again, looking like scolded puppies.
“Gentlemen, I hate to break it to you, but moles don’t eat marshmallows. They CAN’T eat marshmallows. They’re insectivores—they eat grubs, worms, earthworms, beetles, and larvae. They’re basically tiny carnivores with fur. They wouldn’t touch a marshmallow if you gift-wrapped it in earthworms.”
The realization was crushing. “But… but the forum post had hundreds of upvotes…” Dad said weakly.
“Son, moles can’t digest sugar. They have zero interest in it. Wouldn’t even recognize it as food.” Alasdair’s expression softened seeing our complete devastation. “If your marshmallows were disappearing, I can tell you exactly what was eating them.”
“The squirrels,” I whispered, my face now burning with the heat of a thousand suns.
“Oh, the squirrels DEFINITELY ate them,” Alasdair said, now unable to suppress a chuckle. “I’ve been wondering why we had such unusually fat squirrels around here this spring. Couldn’t figure out where they were getting all that sugar. Mystery solved!”
The Full Extent of Our Failure
Dad looked like he might actually faint. “So those dead moles we found…”
“All from our Wire Tek traps,” Alasdair confirmed. “We set them along the property line because moles from neighboring yards tunnel onto the course looking for grubs. Based on what I’m seeing—” he gestured at our yard, which honestly looked like it had been carpet-bombed, “—you’ve got a pretty serious infestation. Probably a whole colony. You should see how many tunnels I’ve found connecting from your property to our course.”
Every single dead mole we’d celebrated over the past few days was a casualty of Alasdair’s professional trapping operation. While we’d been waging our ridiculous marshmallow war, building anti-squirrel defenses, and deploying “tactical marshmallow operations” at 3 AM, Alasdair had been quietly and efficiently eliminating moles with actual, functional traps.
We’d been taking credit for someone else’s work while accomplishing absolutely nothing except running what was apparently the most successful squirrel feeding program in North Carolina.
“So we’ve been…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Feeding squirrels for three months,” Alasdair finished kindly with a grin. “And based on the activity in your yard, the moles probably thought you were running some kind of free buffet service with all the digging and soft soil you created trying to place those marshmallows.”
Alasdair’s Wisdom: The Solution That Actually Works
“So what DO we do?” Dad asked, his pride thoroughly wounded but his determination still intact. “Those Wire Tek traps you mentioned—they really work?”
Alasdair’s face lit up. He pulled out his phone and showed us photos of the traps in action. “Best investment I ever made for this course. Wire Tek 1001 EasySet Mole Eliminator Traps. They’re the real deal.”
He walked us over to one of his trap sites and showed us how it worked. The scissor-style trap was set into a mole tunnel with no digging required—just a simple foot-stepping motion to set it safely underground.
“These traps are foolproof,” Alasdair explained with the enthusiasm of someone sharing a treasured secret. “Made with heavy gauge steel, manufactured right here in the USA with the highest quality materials. They’re the #1 mole trap on Amazon for a reason.”
He showed us the features:
- Easy to set – Just a simple foot-stepping motion, no engineering degree required
- No digging needed – The Wire Tek was the FIRST trap that could be set directly into a mole tunnel without excavation
- Works in most soil conditions – Best in soft soil, sand, and mulch, though it can handle clay with a bit of prep work
- Humane and effective – Takes the guesswork out of mole elimination
- Safe for organic use – Accepted for use in organic farms, ranches, and nurseries
“The best part?” Alasdair grinned. “They actually work. No three-month waiting period. No squirrel interference. No internet myths. Just results. Usually within a day or two.”
“How many would we need for our yard?” I asked.
Alasdair surveyed our property with a practiced eye. “Based on the tunnel activity I can see? I’d start with a 2-pack. Set them in your most active tunnels—you can tell which ones are active because they’ll be slightly raised and soft when you press on them. These traps will handle your problem quick.”
The Marshmallow Method: The Brutal Truth
So let’s address the questions that brought you to this article:
Will marshmallows kill moles?
No. Absolutely not. Moles are insectivores—they eat grubs, worms, and beetles. They won’t eat marshmallows. Period. This is not a debate about efficiency; it’s a statement of biological fact. Moles cannot and will not consume marshmallows.
How to get rid of ground moles with marshmallows?
You don’t. You can’t. The entire method is an internet myth that refuses to die. What you’re actually doing when you put marshmallows in mole holes is:
- Feeding the local squirrel population (they will thank you profusely)
- Wasting time and money (three months of our lives we’ll never get back)
- Looking ridiculous to your neighbors (confirmed by multiple awkward conversations)
- Delaying the use of actual solutions (the biggest tragedy of all)
- Possibly attracting MORE pests (sugar attracts insects, insects attract moles)
- Creating family disputes (ask my mom about the chicken wire incident)
The bottom line: Marshmallows don’t work. Not slowly, not eventually, not ever. It’s not like trying to mow your lawn with nail scissors—at least that’s theoretically possible. This is like trying to mow your lawn by singing to it. Wrong approach, wrong tool, wrong everything.
What We Learned From Three Months of Marshmallow Madness
After our epic failure, here’s what we learned:
- Don’t believe everything you read on the internet. Just because a “hack” goes viral or has thousands of upvotes doesn’t mean it actually works. Check with actual experts before committing to a three-month campaign of suburban warfare.
- Talk to professionals FIRST. One five-minute conversation with Alasdair could have saved us three months of marshmallow madness, hundreds of dollars in wasted marshmallows, and Dad’s dignity.
- Moles are insectivores. This is basic biology we could have Googled before buying out Costco’s marshmallow supply. They eat meat (insects), not sugar.
- Quality American-made tools exist for a reason. Wire Tek didn’t become the #1 mole trap on Amazon by accident. They work because they’re well-engineered, properly designed, and based on actual mole behavior.
- Squirrels are opportunistic freeloaders. They will absolutely take advantage of any suburban marshmallow delivery service you accidentally create.
- Sometimes the problem is bigger than you think. We didn’t have “a few moles”—we had a massive colony that required professional-grade solutions, not camping supplies.
- Document your failures. Our months of marshmallow mishaps make for entertaining dinner party stories, even if they didn’t solve our mole problem. (Though Mom still won’t let Dad live down the chicken wire incident.)
The Moral of the Story
If you’re dealing with a mole problem, save yourself the marshmallow madness and invest in proper Wire Tek 1001 EasySet Mole Eliminator Traps from the start. Your lawn, your sanity, your dignity, and your relationship with local squirrels will thank you.
The marshmallow method is not just inefficient—it’s completely fictional. Moles won’t eat them. What you’re actually doing is operating a complimentary squirrel catering service while your mole problem continues unchecked, possibly even gets worse.
As for Dad and me? We ordered a 2-pack of Wire Tek traps from Amazon that very afternoon. Within a week, our mole problem was solved. Within two weeks, our lawn started recovering. Within a month, we could walk across our backyard without risking a twisted ankle.
Alasdair still chuckles every time he sees us. We’ve become something of a legend at the golf course clubhouse: “Remember those guys who tried to kill moles with marshmallows for three months?”
At least we can laugh about it now. Though Dad has made me promise to never mention the 3 AM marshmallow deployment incident, the chicken wire disaster, or the night vision goggles phase. Some things are too embarrassing even for a cautionary tale.
And the squirrels? They’ve definitely noticed the end of their free buffet. I swear one of them glares at us every morning from his tree, like we betrayed him by switching to actual solutions.
The End
P.S. – Those Wire Tek 1001 EasySet Mole Eliminator Traps are available on Amazon, and yes, they really do work. Made in the USA with heavy gauge steel, they’re the #1 mole trap on Amazon for a very good reason. Trust us on this one—we learned the hard way that internet myths are no substitute for quality American-made traps that are actually designed to work. Save yourself three months of embarrassment and get the real solution. Your future self will thank you. And so will your neighbors, who won’t have to watch you wage war on squirrels with a Super Soaker at 6 AM.
