Ah, nature in all it's forms! Such delight, such majesty, such wonder, such a pain in the you-know-what if they come between you and your idea of a perfect garden. Yes, I've had the attack of the Japanese beetles (they don't sing nearly as good as John, Paul, George and Ringo.) They gorge themselves on my Hibiscus leaving skeletal foliage. I've had moles burrowing beneath the hardwood mulch in my perennial beds leaving mounds of soil in their wake. I've had squirrels decimating my bird feeders to get at the yummy black-oil sunflower seeds. I've had racoons devour my corn, rabbits eat my lettuce, field mice munch on my strawberries and skunks leave a smelly trail that even my Honeysuckle vine's heady perfume couldn't camouflage. And don't even get me started on the destruction left behind by the deer that call my four acres home! But none of those compared to the beastly thing that took residence under my porch. I speak of the hideous, notorious, diabolical and devious woodchuck or as my youngest son likes to affectionately call him Mr. Groundhog.

Oy! What I went through to be rid of that menace. And to think I actually thought he was cute at the start of our introduction to the wonder that is His Furry Highness. He appeared one day munching on the fallen apples from the apple tree in the backyard.

"Well, that's okay," I said stupidly. "They were all bruised from the great fall off the tree anyway. I can't use them to make apple sauce now. This way they don't go to waste."

Ah, but if you've ever had twenty apples in one sitting you'll know what awaited me once he ate his fill. Pity animals have no qualms about defecating where they eat. The stink was awful, the mess indescribable. Mr. Groundhog outlived his welcome rather soon after that. Unfortunately, he wasn't going anywhere. He found this abundant supply of food and ain't no way he was giving it up. He took up residence under the toolshed.

"So, get rid of the toolshed and he'll leave too." my husband reasoned. The toolshed was on its last leg anyway so why not get rid of it? Made sense to me. Out it went and Mr. Groundhog's burrow was uncovered. Surely, he would leave. Yes, we were that naive. He promptly found another home unfortunately it wasn't in a neighbor's yard. He decided to live under the enclosed porch we built to replace the dilapidated toolshed.

"He must likes tools," my son, Tyler, exclaimed happily. "Just like Gopher on Winnie-the-Pooh. Isn't that funny, Mommy?" I wasn't

• 1
• 2
• next page >>

---

Add your voice

Know something about True gardening stories: The worst pest experience?
We want to hear your view. Write now!