Groundhog Day - March 17, 2022

 

In the gully at the back of our yard lives - or, rather, lived - a big, fat groundhog.  

This is the same gully where, several years ago, we had TWO DUMP TRUCK LOADS of dirt and stones poured into a giant erosion that was threatening to eat our back yard.

One of the Granddaughters spied a hole in that dirt last fall, near the base of a big oak tree.  We blamed the armadillo.  Two weekends ago, while exploring the gully with her pink BB gun in hand, Granddaughter #2 yelled, "Grandmama!  I just saw an animal go in this hole!"

From the porch I yelled back, "It was probably the armadillo."

She yelled back, "It had brown FUR!"

Not the armadillo, then.  I yelled, "Well, shoot it if you see it again."  Like the BB gun would off it.  

She and her older sister (who was also armed with a BB gun) stationed themselves at the mouth of the hole.  I really preferred that they not hang out in the muddy gully, so after a while I hollered, "What are y'all going to do if that thing comes rocketing out of that hole, right in your faces?"  They scurried up the hill and put the BB guns away.    

Last weekend, I saw a brown, furry beast run across the back yard and scamper down the hill.  Groundhog, for sure.  He probably has built a network of tunnels in the expensive dirt we bought to preserve what was left of our back yard.

I told The Husband about the groundhog.  

Two nights ago, he baited the live trap with a rotten banana.

Yesterday after work, I heard a strange, rattling noise.  Sure enough, there was a groundhog in the trap, desperately trying to dig out.  I took its picture with my telephone and texted it to The Husband:  "Got him!'  

His reply:  "Oh no!!  Now what??"

After a brief round of texts (in which I thought, but did not say, "Put a bullet in him and be done"), The Husband said he would call Son #1 and get him to haul the groundhog off.  

Later that evening, Son #1 showed up with two daughters in tow.  He asked, "What do you want me to do with it?"

I said, "If you'll skin it, I'll cook it."  

The girls immediately raised a ruckus:  "Don't kill it!  It's so CUTE! Don't kill it!"  

They named it "George."

Son #1 said it wasn't a good idea to eat groundhog, said they carry dysentery and such.  We agreed that he would just haul it far, far away, and turn it loose.

Wonder how long it'll take George to get back home?