It's War

My bib overall-wearing buddy has declared war on the groundhog population, dear reader. These sunflower munching little buggers are devouring the new sunflower sprouts like they are Great Aunt Beatrice at a Western Pennsylvanian Wedding Cookie Table! It is no holds barred around here when it comes to groundhogs. He sets live traps, he has a rifle at the ready, and he is filling in holes like a madman. He now has a groundhog stomp that I recognize. His groundhog stomp is fast-paced, heavy-footed, and purposeful. Honestly, I didn't know my little buddy could move so quickly! He stomps down to the house, bursts through the door, hollers "Groundhog!" and takes off like lightning with rifle in hand. Sigh. 

I now also recognize his victory stomp and his defeated stomp. Footfalls are very telling. I can usually tell when he is victorious by the number of shots fired. One single shot usually means success. More than one usually follows with a tirade of foul language, and his heavy, slower-paced defeated stomp. He then announces the skirmish with a detailed explanation of why he missed his target. The other day, it was all due to the wind. I was worried about the deer, but the groundhogs seem to be more destructive. If our Chubby were still alive, the groundhog population would not stand a chance. Buster is a lover, not a fighter. He will bite a human before he hurts another animal, which I get. There are individuals I would like to bite on some days as well. Alas, The Bibbed Wonder is alone in his war against the rodent population. I can't kill anything. I killed a snake, and sloppy bawled and apologized while I did it. It's not pretty. I certainly can't kill a mammal. 

Living where we do, wildlife will certainly be a challenge to our sunflower maze's success. I worried about the flowers sprouting; now I worry about them surviving Punxsutawney Phil's family tree. It's been quite the year for pesky rodents. I opened my chicken coop door to the horror of poor Mrs. Frizzlebottoms dead in her nesting box. It was an obvious attack. Not only was my poor little ruffled chicken dead, but something had the audacity to sit and eat her in her little nesting box. The internet suggests it was an opossum or a skunk because she was eaten from her bottom, and her head was still intact. Now, I am on the lookout for opossums, raccoons, and skunks. 

I'm unsure what I will do if I see one, probably find The Bibbed Wonder and have him do the dirty work. I support the wildlife around the farm 100% as long as it knows its place. With 150 acres, there is no need to overthrow my home, outbuildings, or yard. Stay away, don't bother my domesticated family, and know your place, and we can all get along. I know that the young sunflower shoots are an easy delicacy, but there is also enough to forage in the woods and fields without destroying rows of sunflowers. They aren't starving; they are greedy. The dirty little buggers. 

So, dear reader, the sunflowers have added another layer of drama to our farm life. The Bibbed Wonder is on high alert at all times. The groundhogs to date are winning. We shall see who wins this war and if the sunflowers can survive the army of rodents. Sigh. It's a lot. On this late June Monday, stay safe, be smart, win the war, and keep washing your hands.