Call me Carl, the groundskeeper.
Because, just like in the movie Caddyshack, I'm locked in battle with a groundhog.
We have a groundhog, whom I've named Gary. All is fine as long as he stays in the field and minds his own business. The problem is, he likes to use the same part of the yard that we do. Specifically, the flower garden.
Living under the deck, we're good with that. Up on the hill? Fantastic! But the garden is off limits.
But in the garden he is. Digging around, making holes that can catch a foot and twist an ankle or knee. And making a burrow hole right in front of the small wooden bridge over an ornamental dry riverbed. Not that we use the bridge that much, but when grandchildren come, it is all too easy for a small foot to go down the hole, causing a fall.
I've stuffed the hole with rocks, fair sized ones, but Gary is not to be deterred. A day or two later, and he has made the opening bigger, and pushed the rocks aside. I've done that several times, trying to see who is going to give up first.
I guess he won that round, because I'm no longer stuffing rocks in the hole. Instead, I've got a big rock that I rolled over to the bridge and covered the hole with it. I figure if I can't lift it, he can't either! Some more rocks around it, so he doesn't just tunnel around it, and the addition of wind chimes hoping they might scare/annoy him. It's been four days now, and I'm winning - just like Carl in Caddyshack.
I'm alright.
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