Ground Hogs

The early warm weather had all of us out in the yard enjoying the sunshine when the dogs set up a chase into the front field.  With lots of excited yips and yaps they burst around the barn and over the hill.  In a short while they came back to the yard proudly bearing a dead ground hog. 


Now, before everyone gets all sad...I know Puxitawny Phil is considered a lovely bearer of spring tidings or continuing winter but ground hogs are a nuisance.  The are large ground digging rodents that dig all over the pastures, in the barns, under equipment, creating holes that can trap an unwary walker or a sleepy cow.  I never knew a farmer that didn't hate the creatures. 


Not only do they dig up stuff but they are murder on my garden.  They will eat my tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants faster than I can pick them.  The barn next to my garden has been home to literally generations of ground hogs that have resisted all attempts to eradicate or just irritate them into moving.  They slip out at night or early morning and munch, munch, munch.  Then when the dogs get wind of him, he rushes back to his den under the barn.  Which means he gets an early breakfast and I get an early wake up call from all the ruckus!


So one less ground hog wasn't a source of grief.


We haven't had real hunters for dogs since Boomer and Amy.  They kept my yard littered with ground hog carcasses aging to the exact degree of "ripeness" to be a dog delicacy. 


Boomer was a big German Shepherd while Amy was a Snoodle (a Schnauzer-Poodle cross) that probably didn't weigh 15 lbs.  They were constant hunting companions and would happily head out each morning across the fields looking for excitement.  (Never underestimate a terrier or a poodle.  They weren't bred as playthings but working hunters.  Terriers are invariably fearless, domineering, bossy little dogs.)


Over time, Boomer and Amy had perfected a hunting plan for ground hogs.  First they would find a den.  Ground hogs dig underground burrows that can run quite a distance.  Each den and run will have two entrances, so if the ground hog gets in trouble he can always leave by the other opening.  Nosing around they would locate both entrances.  Then Amy would head into the burrow.  Snarling and growling she would confront the ground hog underground.  The ground hog would turn and run for the other entrance to escape and run right into Boomer waiting for him.   One less ground hog.


Thanks to these two we had some relatively ground hog free years on the farm. 


We also had a problem of smelly, decomposing carcasses in the yard.  We would haul them off.  They would proudly bring them back.  We tried burying them.  They would dig them up and proudly bring them back, dirty.  It seemed we always had a strange odor floating in the windows.  (I don't know why but the aging process was important to these dogs.  I never saw them eat one of the creatures, but they had to keep them as trophies!) 


My father got tired of this rather quickly, since Amy was his house dog.  He was washing her hair off trying to keep her from smelling up his trailer after spending the day with her trophy in the yard.  In desperation he began grabbing the carcasses and throwing them onto the tin roof of the shed by his trailer.  There in the summer sun they would cook and dry to hard lumps. 


It about drove Hubby crazy having to climb up and scrape off the lumps and throw them away.


There is nothing simple on a farm.

Proud Mama Moment

My daughter was relating an incident that made her particularly proud of her girls and their priorities.  The girls had rushed home from school to finish their homework and grab a bite to eat before they left for their best night out each week.  Tumbling Class!  Both girls seem to enjoy being upside down more than being on two feet.  For one hour each week they flip, somersault, cartwheel, and do handstands with a group of their friends.  Frankly, they amaze their old, not so limber, grandmother.


Homework finished they quickly jumped into their tights and headed for the door.  Before they could open it their daddy burst in, calling, "I need help with a mama cow!  Come quick!"  Hesitating, my daughter looked up at her hubby, weighing the need to help the cow with the disappointment of her girls.  "Uhhh.  It's tumbling night...." she mumbled.  He nodded his understanding of the problem, but shrugged.  The cow and baby couldn't wait.  She started to turn when a voice piped up behind her. "Well, what are you waiting for?" demanded her youngest, "Let's go help that baby!", chimed in the oldest.  With that, both girls jumped into their muck boots over their tights, grabbed their farm coats and out the door they went.


The new mama was a first time heifer.  Heifers don't have prenatal classes and sometimes they seem a little unsure of what they are supposed to know by instinct.  This one was a classic case. Instead of finding a nice, sheltered place to deliver, she had hunted until she found the one big, mud hole on the farm.  There, she had delivered her little baby which was now cold, wet and muddy.  Then instead of rushing in to clean it up and encourage it to get up and nurse, she was standing there looking at it in puzzlement.  She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, but she wasn't anxious to claim that little ball of mud.


If the calf was to make it they had to get it dry and cleaned up.  Then they had to get the new mama to do her part and start acting like a mama!


My daughter started walking the cow toward the barn while her hubby and the girls gathered up the little calf and put him in the ranger.  The girls watched the calf while the adults herded the mama cow.  With the girls opening and closing gates, fetching hay and cooing over the baby, they soon had the little family in a stall, safe and warm.  Now dad would take over and see that mama and baby got off to a good start. 


Looking at her watch, my daughter shouted to the girls to change their boots,  they could still make half of tumbling class. With a dash and a slam they were off. 


As my daughter related, it was a proud mama moment.  Proud that her daughters realized that occasionally events and happenings mean that they don't always get to do what they want.  Proud that they realized that the health and possibly life of the cow and calf depended on prompt and quick help.  Proud that they understood that they had a responsibility to the animals that were under their care.  No questions asked,  just quick response. 


That's what farm life teaches kids.  It's a big part of why we farm.


It sure isn't to get rich!