Never Grab A Groundhog

Did you know that New Jersey is running out of groundhogs?  Ever since Milltown Mel passed-away, this New Jersey town has faced a groundhog crisis.  Now the governor has vetoed an effort to import out-of-state replacement rodents.  Not so in neighboring Pennsylvania.   

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobbler's Knob.   

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and browsed news feeds on my laptop. It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the picture above is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak.  Also known as the whistle pig – Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are capable of biting through a human hand.  They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well-adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep. They’re protected – just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for awhile but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws. 

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

 *This post was first published on the JSOnline WauwatosaNOW Gas Pains blog on February 2, 2010.

Never Grab A Groundhog

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania.

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and took the dog out to pee.  It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the picture is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak - also known as the whistle pig - Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep - they’re protected - just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for a while but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws.

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

*This post was first published on the JSOnline WauwatosaNOW Gas Pains blog on February 2, 2010.

Never Grab a Groundhog

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania.

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and let the dog out to pee.  It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the picture is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak - also known as the whistle pig - Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Woodchucks used to be a protected species in Wisconsin.  Nowadays, landowners do not need a hunting or trapping license to trap or kill a groundhog on their own property.  The fore-mentioned critter was from back in the protected era and not wanting to draw the unneeded attention of the local game warden I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for a while but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws.

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

 

Never Grab A Groundhog

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania. 

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and browsed news feeds on my laptop. It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the picture above is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak.  Also known as the whistle pig – Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep. They’re protected – just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for awhile but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws. 

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

Never Grab a Groundhog

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania.

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and fetched the papers from the porch.  It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the picture is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak - also known as the whistle pig - Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep - they’re protected - just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for a while but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws.

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

This post first appeared on WauwatosaNOW Gas Pains Blog February 2, 2010

Candlemas

According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac tomorrow is Candlemas – astronomically a Cross-Quarter day.  These days marked the midpoint between a solstice and equinox.  

In the ancient Celtic world this was a High Holy Day that signaled the beginning (not middle) of a season.  The Celts figured out that there were two major divisions - winter (Samhain) which signaled the beginning of the dark half of the year and summer (Beltane) the beginning of the light half of the year.  The English name is derived from the candles that lit that day in churches to celebrate the presentation of the Christ Child in the temple of Jerusalem.

Originally, this day was called Imbolc (lambs’ milk) because the lambing season began. It was also called Brigantia for the Celtic female deity of light, calling attention to the Sun’s being halfway on its advance from the winter solstice to the spring equinox.

Much of this day is grounded in the seasons—estimating how soon spring-like weather will come and when to plant the crops.

It was not held as a good omen if the day itself was bright and sunny, for that foretold snow and frost to continue to the hiring of the laborers 6 weeks later on Lady Day.

If it was cloudy and dark, warmth and rain would thaw out the fields and have them ready for planting.

This brings us to the modern equivalent - Groundhog Day - a survivor of that belief. Though we recognize animal behavior isn’t always the way to judge planting dates, the tradition continues.

Tomorrow is groundhog day and it is always good policy to never grab a groundhog.

Never Grab a Groundhog

 

 

This post was originally published on the Gas Pains Blog back in 2010.

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania.

Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and fetched the news from the warming glow of my computer monitor.  It was a perfectly tropical 9 degrees at sunrise.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.

The man in the photo is making a grave mistake.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head. 

From the Algonquian wuchak.  Also known as the whistle pig – Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critter infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep. They’re protected – just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.

Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for awhile but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.

I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws.

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.

Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.

Never Grab a Groundhog

This post was originally published on the Gas Pains Blog back in 2010.

Groundhog Day is a big event every year on this day over in Gobblers Knob, Pennsylvania. 
Someone provokes a hibernating woodchuck named Punxsutawney Phil to come out of his hole and predict the arrival of spring.

Even I can do that.  Provoked by the alarm clock I crawled out of a perfectly warm bed this morning at 5:30 AM, poured myself a steaming cuppa joe and fetched the papers from the porch.  It was snowing.  I therefore concluded more winter before the arrival of spring.
The man in the picture above is a fool.  You should never grab a groundhog - especially if you are going to wave it around in the air over your head.

From the Algonquian wuchak.  Also known as the whistle pig – Marmota monax belongs to the vast squirrel family. They are big rodents.

They are also sinister-looking with their small ears, beady black eyes and very sharp teeth to go with all of their claws.  I wouldn’t grab a groundhog any sooner than I'd make a grab for a beaver or a porcupine. They are all much too dangerous.

Trust me.  I know this.

I have had to deal with multiple critters infestations under my barn. This includes everything from bunnies, to raccoons to kittens.  One year I had a groundhog.  And that bugger was burrowing furiously.

Groundhogs are well adapted miners.  They have short but powerful legs and very sharp claws.  They are capable of excavating hundreds of pounds of dirt.   And this fella was chucking enough dirt that it wouldn’t be long before he seriously undermined the structural integrity of the barn foundation.

Shooting a woodchuck is against the law in Wisconsin. Yep. They’re protected – just like badgers and wolves.  Not wanting to draw the attention of the local game warden and pleading a landowner exception I opted for the old reliable method.
 
Mothballs.

I poured a box of mothballs down the woodchuck’s hole.  Oh sure, your barn will smell like grandma for awhile but critters cannot stand mothballs.  And it worked almost immediately for me.

I was puttering in the machine shed when old Phil (smelling strangely of naphthalene) waddled his way into the shed and gave me the hairy eyeball.  He was not happy.  Actually, he was angry to the point of provocation because he reared-up on his hind legs and gave me a nasty bark.

Taking a machete from the peg board I waved it menacingly and told him to get the heck out of my shed.

He scurried away retreating behind a sheet of plywood leaning against the wall.
I grabbed a garden rake and thrust it in his face.

He snorted and whistled and parried back with his claws. 

Claw for claw - back and forth we went. Parry and thrust. I was gaining the upper hand and Phil was losing ground.

Finally forced from the shed he scurried a safe distance from the crazy guy with the rake, turned and gave me a dirty look and waddled-off in the direction of a neighboring farm.
 
Nasty attitude the groundhog has.

Dangerous too.