Nature Nugget Contest First Place Winner
Several months ago, I was biking home from work on a quiet country road. Waving, waist-high grass filled the ditches, and everything was bursting with greenness. As I enjoyed the spring scenery, I spied a small creature scurrying across the road ahead. A baby woodchuck! He crouched at the side of the road, hardly bigger than a softball with fur and legs and a tail.
Wanting to see this miniature groundhog in detail, I came closer. The tiny animal did not appreciate such a monster looming over him, however, and bravely hissed and lunged at me. I instinctively retreated, then returned, laughing at myself for letting such a little fluff ball intimidate me. Kneeling close to where it huddled in the grass stems, I took in every detail of its sharp, whiskered little face; beady black eyes; and dainty forepaws perfectly shaped for digging.
After a while I decided I had better move on before I scared it to death. And what about the parent groundhogs? Should I be on the lookout for them? Would they bite and scratch to protect their young? Or would they be cowardly and stay away? As often as I saw these roly-poly marmots’ cousins with their ridiculous waddling gait, rushing to their holes or peering at me through thick grass, I really didn’t know much about them.
Earlier that spring, our dog had cornered one back at our pond. She had it up against a log, where it faced her, making an odd chirring, chattering sound. It paid no attention to me as I walked closer, seemingly more concerned about the yappy little creature than the big silent one. When I dragged the frenzied dog away, Mr. Groundhog, convinced of his freedom, clumsily galloped to his burrow.
Those encounters reminded me of another woodchuck I and another of our dogs had met years before.
One day when I was about eight years old, I was struck by the inspiration to go birding. Many a time I had enviously watched my teenaged sisters add yet another bird to their already long and interesting list. Why couldn’t I try it? So, with childish excitement, I gathered pen, paper, binoculars, and, in hopes of calling in vast quantities of birds, a birdcall. Then the dog and I set out to the woods. Down a trail a ways, I found a mossy bank which I deemed a worthy place for my bird-watching venture.
I ordered the faithful and ever-patient dog to sit beside me. This was by far not our first ramble into the woods and fields, and Rollo knew just what was expected of him. He knew how to sit quiet as a mouse, or to follow as stealthily as possible at my heels. He didn’t understand all of his young owner’s whims, but he knew to obey.
Therefore, I was annoyed when he refused to sit still, turning often to look behind us. Swiveling sideways to rebuke him, I saw an astonishing sight. Lumbering toward us was a furry brown creature. Never in my eight years had I seen such an animal up close.
In my eyes, it was a strange and wonderful animal—reddish brown with silver and black hairs peppered through its furry coat, a flat head and pointed black nose, and a short tail. To me, it was a creature worthy of a zoo. How was I to know this was just a common groundhog, a pest to farmers and gardeners?
I watched in awed fascination as it approached. It seemed calm, and sure of the fact that we meant no harm. I was too surprised and interested to think of high-tailing for the safety of the house. It wasn’t the first animal I had seen in the woods, but it was definitely the bravest.
With total disinterest in us, it nosed through sticks and leaves behind us, then casually began to dig. Its front paws worked methodically and surely, and it seemed quite unperturbed by its audience. In scarcely a minute, a mound of fresh dirt had built up under its hind paws, and it dug yet deeper, its nose, then its head, disappearing. The only sound was a faint scratching of claws on dirt. My eyes were blind to any feathered folk that happened to be around. I had something more interesting to watch than mere birds!
Still it dug, now mostly inside the perfectly round doorway. When only its hind feet were left in sight, I felt brave enough to sneak closer. Quietly, carefully, I crept up beside the hole. Suppose this creature suddenly backed up and saw me? Suppose it charged? What if it got me? Perhaps those thoughts passed through my active mind, but my great curiosity won out. Still, I felt much safer when I found I could clamber up the trunk of a partially fallen tree, its branches caught in other limbs, with a perfect slant for climbing. Here I sat watching and listening intently, eager to see what this odd animal would do next.
Rollo was also still close by. Though I should like to claim it was out of a protective instinct for me, his constant companion, it was much more likely the tantalizing closeness of the groundhog that kept him there. Up till then I had had a constant hold on his collar, and he had not offered even a single bark when he had seen the woodchuck. Never did I think what might happen if a dog and a wild animal were to meet face to face with no restraints. But I was soon to find out.
I sat and waited, having retreated to a more comfortable position on the moss, hoping to get one more glimpse. I was on the verge of giving up and heading home, when, with startling suddenness, a head popped out of the freshly dug burrow. Two glinting black eyes stared at dog and girl. For the first time it really seemed to acknowledge us. Work done, now it seemed ready to look about and observe its surroundings.
I held my breath. What next? It slowly clambered out and took a few steps. Just then my dog noticed that here was this intruder once more. With no hand on his collar, restraining him, he was free to attack. Stiff-legged, hair bristling, he stalked to meet this too-cocky invader.
Oh, no! Suddenly I realized the weight of the situation. What was I able to do if a fur-flying fight developed? And by the time I could run to the house or my father’s workshop, my precious dog would surely be torn to ribbons. For he was not a big dog, and, at least to my eyes, this was one hefty, strong-looking animal. And it was not scared by any rascally pup!
It kept sedately moving toward Rollo. The dog was the first to stop. I could scarcely breathe. Rollo was an amiable dog, never the one to start a fight. Yet—a wild animal? The groundhog kept moving, more slowly now. The distance between them narrowed. Then its hind legs stopped altogether while its forefeet kept cautiously moving. Closer, closer came the pointy black nose to Rollo’s face. Then, for the shortest instant, woodchuck and dog sniffed each other’s faces.
I lay stunned. Even I, at that age, knew that wild animals and dogs did not mingle. And never would a forest animal touch noses with another kind of creature, let alone a domesticated dog!
But it had happened. Somehow that groundhog had sensed there was no danger in either of us, and was uncommonly brave. Had Rollo been the fighting type, that would also have changed the ending of the story. But he wasn’t, and, obviously, neither was the groundhog.
As calmly as before, the woodchuck turned and walked away. Rollo took a few curious steps after it, but then seemed content to sit and watch.
Once more, the groundhog began to dig, this time farther away. And though I sat and watched for many minutes after it disappeared into the ground, it did not reappear.
When I came home with the grand tale of the friendly woodchuck, my mom and sisters were quite skeptical. So I eagerly took them back to where the two freshly dug entrances bore witness to my story.
Many times in the following days, I went to see if Mr. Woodchuck would show his friendly face again, but to no avail. Perhaps he decided one day of taking risks was enough.
Another thing never to happen after that day was—strangely enough—any attempt of mine at birding. So short-lived was my birding expedition, having turned into a groundhog-watching spree, that not one bird was jotted down on my paper. Although sometimes I have listened and watched for feathered songsters, I have never again purposefully set out equipped for spying out myriad birds. After all, I have discovered how interesting the creatures of the ground can be!