Things are escalating between me and this damn woodchuck.

You’ll recall last week’s post where I discussed the sizeable excavation project that our resident marmot has undertaken along the Christmas tree line.

It displeases me to report that there have been additional Chuck sightings. And they’ve become much more frequent.
Chuck is becoming increasingly comfortable living within what has undoubtedly become an intricate and sprawling system of tunnels beneath our farm.

There was a moment of confrontation (read as: me shaking my fist and stomping toward him angrily) last week, and Chuck had the decency to at least appear alarmed while scuttling back to his underground lair.

This would be a fleeting victory. And because I sauntered my 48-year-old frame languidly across the yard, flexing opposable thumb attitude, I think it did more to embolden Chuck rather than encourage his relocation.

I say this because I just saw him again. And this time, he did the same “scuttle for safety” maneuver but then stopped suddenly at the entrance ramp/tollgate to his southside tunnel, turned, and cut his eyes at me.

And I had no idea what to do.

So I walked closer, assuming my 6′ 1″ presence would send him scrambling… Yet Chuck stood his ground. (That or he was looking for a token to get through the tollgate he installed in the tunnel.)

So I kept walking toward him.
And Chuck just stood there, glaring back at me…

And with that, my bluff was called.

With no options left on the table, I took a deep breath and decided Chuck and I should have a discussion…marmot to moron.

And when I was done, Chuck watched me walk away with hate in his eyes…never moving an inch.

I have a terrible feeling this thing is going to have a violent end…
For one of us.

j.s.