As many of you know and remember, my husband LOVES to farm. With two large fenced in gardens, we have a ton of food to eat; from squashes, beets, Italian dandelion greens, collards, kale, beans, peas, tomatoes, not to mention herbs. We don't need to shop for veggies from mid spring to late fall, but in our land of plenty lurks an evil. One so devastating and vile that it haunts our dreams and threatens the very roots of a simple happiness; a whistle pig, a ground hog. His name sends shivers through our bones beyond what Harry Potter and his gang of trusty albeit new wizards experienced with the V-word.
My husband is a kind man, a sharing man. He has let some of our rogue veggie seeds flourish to satisfy the hungry beast. Offerings you could call them. Eat these and leave the rest... He wouldn't even mind if he lost SOME of his bounty to a greater good and reasonable link within the food chain. But that is not what happens. Oh no. This furry angel of vegetable death terrorizes our fresh haven, ravaging and voraciously destroying whatever he can get his little selfish claws into. And trust me. I've had to witness the aftermath; butternut squash senselessly gutted (or is it gourded?) or worse, digs and bite marks rendering once voluptuous ripe organic rewards useless to anything other than bugs and ants and well, Winston if he can hoist his grumpy Russian ass up on the hay bales to gnaw a bit. Not to mention the pumpkins and watermelons he stole from us; both summer and autumnal treats ripped from our grasp after much nurturing and care. We've watched him scale the fence with Mission-Impossible talent to hog beans (I believe they have pouchy cheeks like other rodents soooo that's a LOT of hoggin!) and peppers but the tomatoes? He must just sit back on his haunches and eat until he wishes he wore pants so he could unbuckle them; the scratching himself part he has down, trust me. After such a binge he usually ends up lying on the ramp to the barn where it is warm and giving us a gratis shot of his over bloat. Thanksgiving is every day for the thief.
Well, Cheech has battled long and hard every year from fox pee to HIS pee, magical nuts (poison ones not his own...although we have two beautiful kids soooo...magical IS applicable) even Halloween motion sensitive decorations that light up, speak and move. Let me confess this: At midnight when I get home from work and let the three stooges out for last hurrah and one of those bastard toys starts whispering in the dark woods to "Heeeeelp meeeeee PLEAAAAAASE heeeeeeelp meeeee ... " I am ready to ninja chop mah bad-ass self some whistle pig, twigs, leaves throw some acorns and rush squealing back to the house some ancient prayer to rid myself of the demons haunting my barn... oh wait... yeah just decorations. All in good fun. No I didn't pee my pants but yes I carried a bible for trip. Amen ... and also with you.
But he has had it and I don't blame him. We manage to rescue one little melon that hid itself and grew up more like a two inch high rectangle than an adorable sphere ~ geometry is forgiving as are we; rectangle, sphere, rhombus... doesn't matter and hey the Japanese teach their watermelons to grow like squares for easier stacking in the stores... just saying we loved Melon head as he came to be known. We brought him into the house and set up the plan. Having lost his entire clan (I think that's what you call a group of melons like a pod of whales or a gaggle of geese.. yeah a clan of melons.... let's run with it shall we?) he agrees to make the ultimate sacrifice. Cheech purchases a trap; a whistle pig trap. And Melon Head is going to Scooby doo it, lure him in and we will at last be rid of this wretched menace that plagues our homestead. Our goodbyes are brief and heartfelt. The trap is tucked into the underbrush that SHOULD have been my sunflower bed buuuut all the new sprouts were mysteriously and gluttonously plucked, nibbled and destroyed by aforementioned varmint. Oh yeah, I was on board to get him and get him gooooood. My brilliant vegetable protector covers it with hay and sprinkles Melon Head around and puts some in the trap. Not all of it because if there is more than one... we must slay them all. Melon Head would want complete vengeance. We're doing it for him remember.
and we wait.
Then one night on my way home from work, I get a call. It is my son. I am hoping to hear the terrified squawls of one outwitted whistle pig.
"Mah ~ I let the dogs out for last hurrah."
"Awesome. Thanks Boo"
"No Mah~ Listen. Winston ran away. I was watching Mulligan in the woods and Birdie went back in but during last head count.. he was missing. I've been searching for half an hour. He's gone Mah."
There is real fear and sadness at the thought that our grumpy Russian may have defected. Nah. He can't see, barely hears and has four teeth. He's not leaving the sanctuary that gives him soft food, cool blankets and a new stuffed duck to shred or hump every three months. I tell my son to check the compost bins in the back.. .he LOVES to eat trash ~ stinky trash is apparently his favorite. I step on the gas to aid in the search.
I get home and welcome the other two who are huffing and panting to tell me that "The tiny dog is gone! He made tee-tee and then disappeared into the night....I'll eat his treats and sleep with his stuff.. can I have this duck?" I step out and brave the dark thickets behind our gardens, ignoring the spooky warnings from animitronic zombies and seizure causing lights. I head into the woods listening for his little jingle or a sneeze which would be most likely and make my way to where I KNOW he is.
in the effing trap.
And he is. Sitting there. belching and gorging on Melon Head.
SERIOUSLY?
He makes no sound as I open the damn thing and has the brass ones to snag a tidbit for the stroll back to the house.
My son picks him up and hugs him as if he has returned from the Bermuda Triangle.
Three more times we attempt to catch the bastard. Three times I must set our homemade POW free.
WAR
IS
HELL
Hello there and welcome back. It's nice to see you. I thought we could all use a little laugh after having a new hectic school year start and summer begin to drift off and the weather fiascos that seem to be ravaging the world at the moment. Hope you are all safe and sound. Let's do this again soon, shall we? I enjoy sitting here with you... even if only for a little bit.
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