De-Hogging

"I've got to do something about the groundhogs," I said to Mr. Ginley. "They're tearing up the backyard, and I'm afraid they're going to start on the house."

And so it was that a call was placed to a company called Critter Control, and any money I might have set aside for summer frivolity was soon to be tapped out.

The set-up was completed early that Monday morning. The first victim was what I believe was the matriarch of the clan. I was thrilled that they'd captured one so quickly. I'd always heard that groundhogs were tricky to catch, and here it was, three hours or so after the set-up, and we'd already caught one.

I called CC to let them know. They sent the guy back out. He picked up the occupied cage and left a new one. A few hours later, hog #2 was in the books. I was still happy.

The following day, two more were captured. This scenario repeated itself over and over in the days to come, my enthusiasm waning with each visit from the CC technician. 

How could there be this many of them? I even ventured to ask the owner if they trapped and released the creatures, because I was beginning to wonder if it was the same hogs returning to the scene of the crime. But no, she assured me they were euthanized.

The final count was eight when I gave up. In the meantime, we found out our neighbor on the other side caught four of the SOBs. There were two left – one juvenile and one full-grown. I had crossed my fingers that the smaller of the two would eventually take the bait, but he/she never did. I was pretty sure the older one knew better. He watched me with worldly-wise eyes, cautious and knowing. He was too smart for any trap I might put out.

Admittedly, I'd harbored fantasies of bashing in their little skulls with a ball pean hammer and leaving the bodies out as a warning. Then there were the nightmares, of eight groundhogs staring at me, their beady eyes accusatory and sharp teeth threatening me with karmic justice.

The cages were returned two weeks ago, and in the past week we haven't seen the last two groundhogs. I'm not sure what their fate was, nor do I care. The final tally is 12 hogs dispatched for good, with another two finished off, too (hopefully).

As I bid a fond farewell to any possible remaining vacation money, I tell myself it was the right thing to do. I imagine the damage that so many groundhogs could do to my home and how much more expensive that would have been.

Then, just as I'm getting the groundhog population under control, I spy a chipmunk.

I think it's time to sell the house.