Groundhogs infuriate me. I used to not give a crap about them, until the groundhog at the old house ate my entire hydrangea bush I planted in honor of Felix’s birth. I planted it atop his placenta, and so it bloomed brilliant and bright and bountiful. And that varmint ate the entire thing, stems and twigs and leaves and all.
I’m pretty sure the same pig followed me to the new house, where I’ve planted nothing of value, but have seen this massive creature ambling around my back yard.
This Point Breeze Groundhog (PBG) gives absolutely zero shits about me. He made eye contact with me, maintained eye contact, and pooped in the middle of my yard. Like a human toddler marking his territory.
When I told facebook this story, some of my new neighbors urged me to get a trap. Except the city has this whole new procedure where you have to apply for a permit to trap something in your urban yard.
Ok, I filled out the paperwork and awaited my permission. I was not anticipating a phone call, during which a city employee asked me questions like, “And why would you like to trap this groundhog?” I had to pretend he was eating my hostas, because I couldn’t bring myself to tell this dude I needed to beat this groundhog, who’d challenged me with aggressive pooping.
Once I got permission to trap the beast, I decided I’d walk to my new friend’s house to borrow her trap. Except she lives much farther away than anticipated and the trap was about the size of Felix. Probably weighed as much.
I alternated carrying techniques to lug that sucker the half-mile home, and fielded many, many questions along the way. “You trappin’ a raccoon??”
“What you trying to kill?”
“What in the hell is that cage for?”
It was an awkward and interesting way to engage the new neighbors for sure.
This morning, Felix and I set the trap with produce of his choosing: half an apple, 5 grapes, 3 strawberries (sliced, obviously), and a tomato (only slightly bruised).
When Miles got off the bus in the afternoon, he and Felix went to check the trap. Lo, some beast had eaten all the fruit and not tripped the trap.
Until tomorrow, groundhog.