Groundhog Invasion Turns Mild Mannered Mom into Desperate Killer

Groundhogs are driving me crazy. When my Great Pyrenees died, I knew the coyotes would eventually realize my protector had left the area surrounding my home unattended. I foresaw ever nearing clusters of howling coyotes and prepared myself for the assault of sound and sheer creepy-ness. Since my elderly cat had long died, there was nothing for the coyotes to munch on. They wouldn't linger.

I never thought beyond coyotes. Not until the groundhog invasion.

I'm still not sure if the coyotes have discovered just how close to the house they can prowl. However, if coyotes eat groundhogs, I'm getting ready to post a BIG sign. Heck, I'll put out the fancy linens and silverware for an all-the-groundhog-you-can-eat buffet.

Groundhogs are unbelievably fast, even when totally obese. Trying to catch one before he dives into the huge, gaping hole he's constructed is an exercise in futility. There are now groundhog holes around the shed, the shop, the chicken house and even behind the house. I swear the silly things can hear the silent closing of the back door or smell the scent of a loaded gun.

Short of borrowing or acquiring another dog, I've found few promising methods of groundhog extermination. Bubba, my great pyrenees would not have killed a groundhog unless it threatened a member of our family. Bubba's size and presence tended to discourage all animals from getting too close to the house. (Except for the deer who liked to tiptoe around him as he slept.) A good border collie, however, wouldn't dream of allowing a groundhog to get away alive.

I really don't want to start taking care of a dog or anything else I have to feed and water. Internet research on groundhogs has yielded only a few suggestions.

The one about dropping a stick of dynamite down the hole is both interesting and tempting.

Some high-powered firecrackers might do the trick. If the frustrating creature hasn't already dug an escape tunnel.

The live-catch trap the neighbor swore by leaves me swearing every morning when it's empty and the bait is gone.

The thought of peeing around the area sounded plumb silly at first. I never dreamed I'd have to mark my territory. Now, as replacement groundhogs come calling every time one finally bites a bullet, I'm getting desperate.

I could have a party and invite all the neighbors to pee on my lawn. And around the shop. And the shed. And the chicken house. I wonder what it would cost me in Sweet Tea or Bud Lite?

Maybe if I start drinking Bud Lite, I won't see the fat, furry creature taunting me. Of course if I stumbled into one of his holes, I'd never be found.

I don't think I can take much more of groundhogs. Since I can't stand beer, I can't drink to forget the aggravating furballs. I don't have the permits necessary to purchase dynamite. (I'd probably blow my own leg off while the groundhog laughed.)

I might just have to get those pee party invitations written up.