This critter is grounded

"One touch of nature makes the whole world kin." 

                                                                 

                                                                        William Shakespeare

AUBURN, Maine — Here is another job I can add to my resume — trapper.

For several weeks, I noticed a nibble here, a nibble there as my broccoli plants were slowly being chewed to pieces. The phantom animal moved on to sample my cucumbers. 

What was next? My tomato plants! 

No way! This was my home and my garden was under assault. It was time to go to Defcon 5 and issue an APB on this elusive critter.

Whenever I turned my back, the culprit, which dropped in for breakfast, lunch, and dinner nearly everyday, is no stranger to gardeners across New England. 

Groundhogs are hated by green thumbs who the brave the elements, bugs and wildlife to grow vegetables. Groundhogs are the reason why makers of steel traps remain in business. There is no high-tech method to remove these scourges.

These fat bastards are said to be cuddly and cute, but let's remember it is a god damn rodent that is a nuisance as well as destructive. 

But it was time to throw down the gauntlet and take this sneaky rat out for a walk. I wanted to kill it, but my son, who has a kind heart and is a friend to all animals, persuaded me to cut the slovenly woodchuck a pardon. He said it would look stupid for big guy like me to beat up on a four-pound animal that is only guilty of doing what comes naturally to its species.

I cursed the groundhog's existence and threatened to the drop the fat fellow from a rope, but I listened to my family's common sense not to harm the gnawer, which treated my garden as its own personal smorgasbord.

My next door neighbor, Don, who often uses one of those effective Have-aHart traps to bag groundhogs, gave me permission to use his cage and trap the elusive bastard.

I set the trap, hoping this wasn't the brightest bulb in his family of adorable rats. But after a week, the varmint hadn't taken the bait. I figured the fluffy fat hairball knew what I was up to or found another garden to satisfy its insatiable appetite.

I had one more opportunity to capture the elusive groundhog. I decided to switch bait and go with a couple of sweet slices of watermelon to lure it into the trap.

I went to work Friday night when I received an urgent call from my wife. "Anthony found the groundhog in the trap," my wife said. "Wanna come home and see it."

I knew I could not leave work and told her that the old fat bastard would have to spend the night in our yard in a cage. 

It was not a happy critter.

The next morning Anthony and I paid the groundhog a visit. It hissed at me at times when I approached it and was not pleased with the cage's accommodations. 

We threw a sheet over him, lined the SUV with newspapers and headed to the outskirts of a state park. The groundhog was held in incommunicado until we reached our secret destination six miles from our home to set the voracious critter loose.

I placed the trap on the ground. I had Anthony on standby with a Bufford Pusser-type bat in his hand just in case the animal turned on me and wanted to pay me back for its apprehension.

I lifted the lid, and after a few seconds of hesitation, the groundhog bolted out of the cage like bullet of gun and headed for cover in the Maine woods.

"Look at 'em go," I said.

It wanted no part of us, but I am surprised it didn't give me the middle figure.

The best part of this adventure was being with my son. We cracked jokes and laughed all the way home.

It was a cool way to have a father-and-son moment and get up close and personal with nature.

I am sure this groundhog wouldn't agree.