Back Home by Chris Hardie
Summer has arrived. The garden is growing, the birds are singing and the woodchuck is chucking.
Longtime (some would say I should add the word “suffering”) readers may recall that I have had a long-running battle – more than 20 years now – against woodchucks.
I have written several columns about my struggles to keep the pests out of my garage or garden. Woodchucks — also known as groundhogs or land beavers or whistle-pigs — destroy gardens and threaten foundations with their burrowing. Our old garage has had the interior dug up multiple times.
An eyewitness sighting of the woodchuck is proof positive they are around, but it usually starts with the telltale hole in the ground – usually in the same places. Chuckies live an average of three to four years in the wild – except for the ones I catch in my trap – so they must teach their offspring the best den locations.
“Son, this is a nice two-bedroom den that is hidden under the corner of the shed. Freshen it up a bit with more dirt. But beware of the old guy who lives in the house.”
I had glimpsed a critter scampering across the yard, so I knew we had at least one living close. I found the entrance to the den under a sidewalk near our former wedding pavilion. Clearly this was one woodchuck with aspirations. Moving out of the downtown old garage location and into the suburbs.
I have sat, armed with my rifle, overlooking woodchuck dens in the past, but I’ve had better luck with the live traps. A few years ago a friend and fellow woodchuck warrior said they love cantaloupe. It worked for me then. So I added a couple of pieces of melon and the trap was set.
A few days went by and there was no activity. This was a wiley woodchuck or else he was on vacation. The melons had shriveled, so I placed fresh slices and reset the trap.
The next day I was traveling to a meeting and my wife Sherry called. “You have something in your trap, but it’s not a woodchuck. It’s a raccoon.”
They may be cute, but raccoons are not welcome in a farm setting either.Their feces can carry a roundworm, Baylisascaris procyonis, which can cause serious illness in humans and in other animals.
The last year we raised sheep, we lost seven newborn lambs. The hay their mothers were eating that was stored in the barn had been pooped on by raccoons. The ewes were strong enough to survive but their offspring were not.
I told Sherry I would deal with Ricky the raccoon when I got home. Since we don’t have livestock anymore and I haven’t seen many coons around, my plan was to release the raccoon into a public hunting area a few miles away.
When I drove up in my pickup to collect the trap, I saw the raccoon in the cage. But he had a visitor. Chuckie must have thought he needed to deliver last rites to Ricky because he was sitting next to the cage.
I was able to grab a quick photo of the meeting as Chuckie lingered for a bit but he scampered away when I exited the truck. Ricky went for a short ride and was grateful to run away when I opened the door.
I left the trap in the back of the truck since we didn’t have any more cantaloupe. But Chuckie came back the next day because one of my security cameras caught him sniffing around in the same spot.
I’m pretty sure forensic examination of the video would show Chuckie raising the two middle digits of his front paws at the camera in an act of extreme defiance since woodchucks have four digits on their front paws.
I salute you, Chuckie, for surviving this battle.
Well played, by the way, to convince Ricky to try that tantalizing food.
But I assure you, the war is far from over.
Chris Hardie spent more than 30 years as a reporter, editor
