To Catch a Little Thief

We awakened to a “Wo – wo – wo –wo” call from the backyard. It sounded a bit like a mourning dove, but not quite.

                “That’s not a bird,” said my husband. “It’s a distressed animal. Did you set the trap last night?”

                I admitted to baiting the Hav-a-hart trap with a piece of broccoli and half a carrot. I had set it at the opening of the hole that tunneled under the black walnut stump at the far end of our property.

                We’d been plagued by a young groundhog lately. The clever fellow had dug three different holes from the driveway, recently paved with only stones, to get under our garden fence. The thief had cleaned us out, eating soy and bush bean plants as well as kale, lettuce and snap peas. We had retaliated by filling in the holes and placing a long metal ladder against the fence. That, and the fact that there was nothing left to eat, deterred him for a while. During that time, neighbors up the block reported his visits in their backyards.  

                “But he always heads back in your direction,” Sander told us.

                Two days ago the young groundhog reappeared in our garden. This time he dug his way under the garden gate.

                “That’s it!” I said. “I’m setting the trap.”

                I baited the trap and left it on the grass toward the back of the yard, intending to place it by the stump later that night.

                That stump has been a home to various wildlife—most often groundhog families—for at least six years. At different times I’ve discovered and blocked “back doors” and have caught and relocated groundhogs. I once caught a very frightened raccoon. He was allowed to remain. The only trouble raccoons have ever caused is to run off with entire stalks of corn. I don’t plant corn any more. It takes more room in my small garden than the yield is worth.

                I forgot to move the trap into place by the stump. It remained on the lawn for most of a cloudy day until I remembered and went to put it into place in the evening. To my surprise, I found in it a very dejected looking raccoon. She was curled up with her head on the ground to one side. I opened the trap and she quickly ran off. After re-baiting the trap, I put it by the stump opening.  What it caught that night – or more likely, early the next morning, was calling “Wo–wo-wo-wo,”

                My husband and I both went back to find we’d trapped a very young raccoon.

                “Poor baby,” I said and released him.

                “We’ll that’s official,” I told my husband. “Raccoons live under the stump; the groundhog does not. I don’t know where else to set the trap.”

                Later that day an idea struck me. Our garden fence is just a plastic mesh. I forced the trap under the fabric of the gate and placed rocks to guard all openings except the trap entrance --an open invitation, seemingly into our garden.  And it worked!  At 3:30 this afternoon I found the trap closed and inside was a small –cat-sized—groundhog. I would have said, “Poor baby” to him too, but I knew him to be a thief. We’ll give him his independence, out of our yard, on July Fourth.