I used to think groundhogs were cuddly and cute, until this past weekend when I started battling mama’s groundhog.
Actually, he’s not my mother’s and I’m not quite certain it’s a ‘he’. To be fair, I’m going to give it a gender neutral name: Evil.
Evil lives beneath mama’s neighbour’s back yard deck. Between mama’s back garden and that of our neighbour, there is a fence. Through a very small and narrow area between the two fences, through which Evil comes and goes.
Last summer, mama would call me almost daily to discuss her woes. The most notable phone call came when she decided to share her Plan To Get Rid Of Evil. It consisted of her trapping Evil in a garbage bag (because it’s strong, you see) and then placing said garbage bag filled with Evil into the car and driving Evil out to a farm where she would then set him free to run wild with his groundhog mates.
Naturally, she would have done this while wearing her gardening gear, complete with sombrero, because that’s just the kind of special that defines mama.
The Plan To Get Rid Of Evil never came to pass and we are now entering another summer where Evil lives and breathes and eats all plants and vegetables.
I attempted to spend this past weekend in radio silence, while gardening. Unfortunately, that radio silence was killed by our Evangelist neighbours who blasted the “Family” radio channel
which is code for: If you don’t accept Jesus as your saviour, you’re gonna burn in hell, tee-hee. I don’t think I’ve heard so many ‘His Glory’ and ‘His Mercy’ and ‘His Salvation’ and ‘His Crucifixion and ‘His Beautiful Face That I Look Upon Which Had Better Be White, Hallelujah‘ in such a short span of time. And no mention of God, either, because He’s sort of inconsequential, yeah?
Do you accept Jesus as your saviour? I do. In fact, technically, all Muslims do. Because: We believe he will come back…as a Muslim. Which isn’t so bad, right?
(Better than those who still consider him an impostor so BACK OFF of Islam. OMG! Or the lunatics reading books on how to “vibrate” at a higher frequency in order to reach enlightenment. Because: This world is all about you and your enlightenment, you self-involved asshole. It has nothing to do with community or getting into the trenches and learning through living, but rather learning through disassociation.
Anyway, there I was upstairs doing something important
like staring at the wall when mama shrieked “Maha! Look outside!”
Can you hazard a guess why?
Evil had returned. In all his / her glory it sat eating one of my perennials. Munch munch munching away as though he were Jesus himself (praise be!). For a few moments, Evil didn’t know we were watching and then some sort of instinct kicked in because it stopped eating, slowly lowered its paws while in tandem sneaking a peek up at the window. As soon as it spotted my mother, it let go of the perennial and ran away as fast as its fat evil a** would carry it.
Off to Home Depot I went where I spent nearly 45 minutes with three men who were discussing the best way to rid one self of a groundhog.
male instinct was to kill it. But apparently, that’s illegal. Besides: Just because it’s evil and it eats perennials, I can’t kill it. It’s one of God’s fat little creatures and it too needs to eat so that wasn’t an option. Fat groundhogs aren’t interested in vibrating at higher frequencies so that alone makes them admirable; Evil’s just doing what is considered naturally programmed (and so I can’t fault it for following Order).
The second, really spectacular option was for me to: Solicit one of my male friends and have him / them pee all around my garden. Evil would smell the testosterone and leave the garden alone, because it would respect that some other creature had marked that territory.
Isn’t that fun?
Third was for me to purchase a steel trap that would trap Evil. I would then drive Evil out to a farm and set him free. Really, this is a variation of Mama’s original plan only with a steel trap rather than a plastic bag. Although I sort of like Evil, I don’t really think I would be comfortable driving around with it in my car, caged or otherwise.
Fourth: Tossing a gas bomb in his burrow.
Knowing my propensity for confusion and cartooning, I would gas myself before I ever got close to Evil. (Any option that would associate me with any type of “artillery” is a natural ‘no, thank you’.)
The final option, which is what I chose, was to surround the garden with a “repellent smell”. I had two choices: coyote urine (hurrah!) or black pepper-based ‘stuff’. I chose the later and he’s not been back since, Evil.
I really do hope he doesn’t starve to death, though; will keep you posted as to this endeavour.
P.S. Here are my first two little garden patches: