We have an abundance of woodchucks on our lawns and in our meadows. But, we also have an understanding. I tell them they can live on my property as long as you don’t dig holes where we mow.
Now, I don’t think they actually understand me, but they seem to live in the hedge rows and other places other than where we keep the grass short.
There are several other names for these varmints. Some people call them whistle pigs. If you’ve ever watched a woodchuck, you know where that name comes from. They will sit up on their hind legs, looking over their domain and give a sharp, shrill whistle when they see possible danger.
Actually, woodchucks belong to a group of ground squirrels known as marmots. I guess that’s where the squirrel part of the name comes from. After all, woodchucks do climb trees.
A young woodchuck is not a pup. They are called chucklings. The Algonquin Indians called them “wuchuk.” Maybe that’s where the old tongue twister comes from.
“How much wood could a woodchuck chuck/If a woodchuck could chuck wood/A woodchuck would chuck all the wood he could/If a woodchuck could chuck wood!”
Woodchucks dig a deep, complicated burrow with numerous chambers. There are separate rooms for sleeping and a nursery for raising their young. They even have a turnaround chamber and a separate waste chamber far away from the other living quarters. These tunnels and rooms can be up to forty feet long and six feet deep.
When we had a camper up on our hill overlooking the pond several years ago, the woodchucks dug their home underneath it. The camper is gone, so the woodchucks moved and burrowed beneath a small building we bought from the Amish Barn Company.
Woodchucks are well adapted for digging. They have powerful short legs and broad long claws. As they dig their burrows, they get behind the diggings and push the stones and dirt out of their tunnel with their noses, creating a woodchuck mound.
Woodchucks hibernate for the winter and occupy their underground cavern from the end of October through March. During this time, their heartbeat drops to about four beats per minute.
When I grew up, we hunted the woodchucks. They dug holes and dens in our meadows and pasture. One afternoon, I was on the hill in the pasture, driving the cows to the barn with my horse. There was one cow quite a distance from the other cows, so I spurred my horse into a canter. All of a sudden, I was flying through the air over the horse’s head and neck. She had stepped into a woodchuck hole. Luckily neither me nor the horse were hurt, but it could have been far worse.
So, I spent much of my spare time shooting those pesky creatures. I got so I could hit them at quite a distance. I know that many of you don’t think that’s right, but if I landed on my head or the horse broke its leg, shooting them would have been well justified.
Now I have a natural remedy for disposing of the woodchucks. I have a coyote that visits daily and spends quite a bit of time waiting for the woodchucks as they leave their dens to eat. He’s actually quite the hunter and seems to be keeping them at bay. Years ago, there was another hunter on the farm. My dad had a shooting bench up on the hill and was able to shoot a woodchuck three to four hundred yards away. I think he spent as much time on the hill as that light haired coyote did. So, I have fond memories of all of them – the woodchucks, the coyote and my Dad.