“So, are you ever going to get around to writing the groundhog post?” she asked this morning.
And there was this tone in Roxie’s voice that suggested “you darn well better write the groundhog post or you’re in big trouble, mister.”
Or words to that effect.
“Darn,” for instance, is in neither of our vocabularies.
So, right. Yeah, I’d absolutely love to drop everything and tell one and all about the groundhog that showed up by our fishless fishpond one recent afternoon and how Roxie and I thought to ourselves at the time, “omigosh, golly gee, we certainly don’t need a darn groundhog settling in for the summer at our place.”
Not any year do we need thieving varmints tormenting us. But clearly not in the year that we’re writing The Great Gardening Book .
But there he was one afternoon, chomping on our hostas.
“He’s been living in my barn, I think,” said Michelle Staley, who runs My Granny’s Attic antique store just across the fence from us in Old Town Lenexa.
Yes, we have “barns” in Old Town.
Sure enough, that’s where the groundhog was living. In Michelle’s barn. Though the day after she showed me the varmint’s hiding place and we debated on whether to call him a groundhog or a woodchuck (turns out that they’re one in the same) my son Peter saw Herr Groundhog outside our own barn.
Must have looked roomier.
But with the help of our puppy, Einstein, we ran him out of there before he could set up housekeeping.
Why our concern? Thanks to the Google, source of all knowledge, I learned quite a bit about the damage that groundhogs can do to a vegetable garden.
Lots. They are voracious critters, one of the larger members of the (of course) squirrel family.
Once a woodhog or ground chuck (why not?) discover the good eats you’re growing, not even a secure rabbit fence like ours will keep those darned little fellas out.
According to a K State University Extension brochure:
“Because woodchucks are excellent diggers, it is necessary to sink the fencing two to three feet into the ground. The entrance should be sturdy and elevated. Some gardeners prefer to build two separate sets of steps over the fence. ..”
And it goes on in great detail from there. Certainly, I was not about to rent a trencher to sink my fence. Says you can electrify the fence, too, but be careful about the voltage, otherwise you will electrocute pets, small children and large gardeners alike.
In short, it’s a major pain in the butt to fence out ground hogs.
Which is why some people shove lethal gas cartridges in their burrows (you need a permit) while others shoot them.
“A young, medium-size groundhog makes excellent table fare if properly prepared,” the K-State brochure said.
As we’re trying to reduce our grocery budget, roast groundhog sounded sort of appealing. But sadly, no recipes were provided, nor was there a listing in The Barbecue Bible.
So I decided on another approach. I set out a live trap baited with lettuce and waited for results. Rendition seemed like a humane approach. I don’t even know how to water board.
But nothing.
The lettuce wilted or was taken by rabbits. Then, I also noticed that no one was eating the hostas any longer.
What happened to our groundhog? we wondered.
“Yeah, I haven’t seen him, either, lately,” Michelle said me when I stopped over Friday around closing time.
“But I did see a fox out here.”
“Hmm.” I said.
“Huh” she said.
Once again, we give thanks to the great circle of life.
Bonus question:
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck, if a woodchuck could chuck wood? If you have the correct answer, and can supply a groundhog (preferably cleaned), Rox and I will come over to your house and cook supper using one of these scrumptious groundhog recipes.
Posted by: Mike
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