Are You Smarter than a Groundhog?

The question in that headline is one I’ve been asking myself for over 2 long years.  Sadly, my answer has been a resounding NO.  That’s right, a big fat NO…NO How…NO way…in capital letters.

This sorrowful saga actually began over five years ago, immediately upon moving into our North Carolina home on a wooded mountainside in south Asheville.  It was while we were still unpacking that Geri first noticed not one, but two, fat and playful groundhogs peeking around the corner of our front deck.

As most people know, a groundhog and a woodchuck are one and the same…thus the names Geri bestowed upon them…Chuckie I and Chuckie II.  She thought they were cute and truly entertaining as they (in Geri’s parlance) “played hide and seek” with her throughout the day.  It was, however, an opinion which would prove to be quickly reversible as this pair of critters began wreaking havoc with all things green and rooted in soil.

As it turns out, groundhogs are seriously destructive.  Not only do they have an insatiable appetite for all varieties of vegetation, potted plants, and whatever grows in a garden, they can quickly undermine the structural integrity of a building by burrowing large, lengthy tunnels and cavernous spaces under the concrete slab upon which the building sits.  It was this latter practice which brought about my declaration of war.  A war that spanned 2 plus years …a battle of wits which I am ashamed to admit I lost repeatedly no matter the sophistication of my strategies nor the technical ingenuity of my tactics.

With cunning calculus I attempted to ward off both Chuckies by creating an annoying environment.  I mounted a wind chime at the entrance to their cave under our foundation.  I created other noise making devices hoping the unpleasantness of their surroundings would drive them away in search of a more peaceful abode.  I tried introducing mothballs to their cozy environs with the hope if noise did not repel them, unnatural odors might.

When those methods, among others,  failed, I labored ceaselessly to construct barriers designed to preclude entrance to the underside of my home‘s foundation.  With each contrivance more elaborate than its predecessor, my frustration grew as time after time I consistently suffered defeat at their paws of persistence.  

Driven nearly to distraction by the two Chuckies, I could not accept that I was being habitually outsmarted by these demons of destruction.  My sanity was becoming fragile and my mental health was at stake.  I had to find a way to defeat them.  I was becoming completely obsessed and could think of little else.  When I could sleep, I even dreamed of the ongoing battle and how I might one day outsmart these destructive monsters.

Finally, I stumbled upon the idea of employing a live animal trap…a heavy duty wire cage, baited with food to attract the offending animal, and equipped with a trap door that quickly shuts and locks once the animal steps inside to retrieve the food.  Once captured, the animal can be relocated unharmed to a habitat well away from the site of their original malfeasance.  Problem solved!  Simple….right?  Not so much.

OK, it’s true that getting Chuckie #1 into the trap and relocated was a piece of cake.  I’ll admit that my success only hours after purchasing and staging the Hav-a-hart trap rendered me smug.  I was gloating in the glory of my victory.  Now all I had to do was get set for a repeat performance and…bingo.  Chuckie no mas!!!

Little did I know that the second Chuckie’s observation of my capturing Chuckie #1 would have a lasting and profound effect on #2.  What I thought would be a simple matter turned out to be a series of vexations that would make the trials and tribulations of the preceding two years seem like child’s play.  My attempts to get Chuckie #2 out of the picture began one of my most harrowing experiences to date.  Indeed, this ordeal may have been most frustrating experience of my entire life.

Satisfied that the Hav-a-hart trap was my best strategy for the ensuing war, I tried for weeks to entice Chuckie #2 to take the bait.  But NO !!! There was absolutely, positively nothing that would do the trick.  I could have put a winning lottery ticket in there…a certificate for an all expenses paid trip to Woodchuck Wonder World… fresh fruits and scrumptious veggies…nothing worked.  He had been sensitized and he was not to be seduced.  With each ensuing failure, I began to fear the mounting evidence was clear.  I could not outsmart Chuckie II.  The damage to my psyche was indescribable.  My feelings of inferiority were so profound, I would have sought psychiatric help had my deductible not been so outrageously high as to make my health insurance policy useless.

So, I had no choice.  I had to regroup.  I had to think.  Surely this little…OK, not so little… good for nothing plant pilfering, foundation fouling, obnoxious, intellectually infuriating beast could not get the best of me ad infinitum…could he?!?!

Mustering all my mental resources, I realized I had to DE-SENSITIZE Chuckie II regarding the food baited trap.  Thus began my program of placing enticing food, not in, but in the area and well away from the cage.  Gradually, the food was placed closer, then still closer until Chuckie decided there was no harm associated with getting close to the trap.

With persistence that surpasses the dedication to complete a Ph.D. in nuclear physics, I eventually got my boy Chuckie to eat from the top, the front, and the rear of this now familiar, do-nothing cage.  The door, after all, had been kept shut during these days-upon-days of “training”.

At last, I fixed the door to the trap in the open position, but secured it so Chuckie could not trigger it when he finally entered the cage to receive his reward.  Once he was comfortable coming inside and experiencing no negative consequences, the day had arrived to allow the door to slam shut.

It was, perhaps, one of the crowning glories and most major achievements of my life to date when I heard the bang of the Hav-a-hart trap door securing Chuckie II for his ride to his new home, miles away on the other side of the French Broad River where, with his mamouth mental skills, he would surely find his pal, Chuckie I, in short order.  And for me, I could, for the first time in a long, long time, retire for the evening secure in the knowledge that I was…smarter than a groundhog.  Glory Be!!!