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.