No, I'm not talking about Aragorn. As you can probably guess from the picture.
I was in the kitchen, warming up leftovers in the microwave. Lasagna that I made earlier in the week. Yum.
Dave was in the sunroom. "Psst," he said, standing real still. "C'mere."
Molly was right there in the kitchen with me, so I figured it wasn't for some wanton sunroom nookie.
"Bring your camera," he added.
As I said, Molly was right there, so it couldn't have been for some kinky sunroom pornography.
While I was extricating my camera from my purse, Molly eased herself out into the sunroom. "Omigod!" she said. "He's back!"
I turned the camera on, slo-mo'd around the corner and there he was, right on the deck, licking up the spilled seed from the bird feeder. It was Woody the Woodchuck, king of the backyard. And has he ever grown!
For those of you who haven't known me for that long, Woody took up residence under our deck last year. You can read about it and see pictures of him here. And here.
We all stood and watched while his royal fatness sashayed down the steps, across the walk and through the little decorative fence into the flower bed. He moseyed around for a minute and then found some tasty plants and settled down to dinner.
"Let's go outside," Molly said, so she and Dave went out on the deck. Woody hurried over to the fence and paused, posing for me to take a few more pictures. But as the humans got closer, he motored back across the walk and disappeared under the deck with a flash of his furry tail.
Now I'm pondering. Do we dig out the Repels All and the ammonia-soaked rags and stuff them into Woody's hole? A lot of the discussion boards suggest human urine as a wild animal repellent, even for bears. Are you listening, Tartlet? Do I get Dave to go out there after dark and pee? Should I squat there myself?
Or do I follow the example of my Muddy buddy and leave the critter be? Of course Mud has a whole bunch of woodchucks in her backyard in spite of three dogs racing around peeing on everything. I don't think I want a whole bunch of woodchucks. Even calling them groundhogs and giving them cute names like Gus and Punxatawney Phil doesn't make them all that desirable.
For now, I guess we'll leave his chubby majesty alone. But if he starts burrowing in the flower beds, no guarantees.
Watch here for news of a royal beheading. :)
