Gardener Vs. Groundhog

In my more than six decades of gardening I have never, ever thought about giving it up. That was until this July. It’s been a challenging summer for several reasons, and I never, ever thought I’d ever consider giving up my garden. But as I mentioned to a friend in late July, I was in a deep funk.

Now, there are the usual things that can tick off a gardener. Most are easily explained and more often than not easily taken care of. Most insects are manageable as are most diseases. We seem to find ways to control invasive species that challenge us as well. But in July I was faced with a challenge that tested my ethics, morals and skills as both a naturalist and horticulturist.

As you all know, it’s been a banner few years for rabbits. No, this wasn’t the problem that got me so depressed. My trial garden has rabbit fencing around it, and the fencing is buried to keep the bunnies from digging under. They didn’t. But when I began to find rabbits, both big and small, in the trial garden I knew there was something wrong. I found one or two spots where the wire had been broken by the lawn mower, and I made the appropriate repairs. They still got in.

I realized in early July that the rabbits seemed perfectly happy munching on the clover and bluegrass, and it became a live and let live situation. But the day after I planted the fall crop of Brussels sprouts and broccoli, they’d been munched down to stubs. A few days later I looked from my office window and, sure enough, Peter was inside the trial garden looking for another snack.

I walked over, opened the gate and slowly walked behind the rabbit, forcing it closer to the fence. Obviously, he got in, and obviously, he could get out. Sure enough, he did. He simply got up on his hind legs, which extended his body high enough to reach through the higher fence grid that has bigger openings than the rabbit-proof lower grid. He simply pulled himself through and crawled out.

Well that at least gave me the information I needed. And just to help you out, a rabbit fence with a 4-inch-by-4-inch grid just a foot above the ground will not keep rabbits out of your garden. It looks like an effective rabbit fence needs to be buried at least 4 inches into the ground with a 1-by-4-inch grid extending to a height of two feet, then a 4-by-4-inch grid above that.

No, my problems were much, much worse than the rabbits.

Over the years I’d noted several rodents. First it was mice, now under control. Then it was voles, now somewhat under control. And for several years I’d noted one or two groundhogs on neighboring properties, but they’d never ventured onto the lands of the Hampton Gardener.

There was one living under the “book shed” at the library property behind us. There was another living under the garden shed of the weekend neighbors to the west, and one living in neighbor Nancy’s wood pile along the property line to the east. All had been respectful of my gardening efforts, and there was peace.

It’s surely been the summer of the groundhogs though, and they seem to be at the top of their population density, which happens from time to time. But everyone has been complaining, and I was fascinated to hear that years ago the golf course in Shelter Island had a major issue with this rodent. How they got to Shelter Island seems to be a mystery, but the deer swim over there from the mainland so maybe these rodents did as well. We may never know.

Part of the problem is that DEC regulations say you can shoot the groundhogs if they are destroying your “property,” but it’s also very clear that it’s illegal to trap and humanely move them elsewhere. Kind of odd since the DEC is routinely trapping and relocating black bears upstate all the time when they become a nuisance. The logic for not being permitted to relocate the groundhogs is alleged to be the threat of moving diseased animals from one location to another. Well, I guess black bears don’t get diseases.

The second problem is two-fanged. You can’t discharge a firearm within most of our hamlets, villages and towns. But the DEC regulations allow you to shoot and kill a groundhog. But, legally, we can’t.

I couldn’t shoot one anyway. As a kid I would trap them then just turn them loose. They can be cute, and they even make clicking sounds just like Guinea pigs. But they are still large, voracious rodents that can damage your landscape and buildings.

Part of my daily routine is to sit on the front porch late in the day and just watch the birds and the bees. I’m surrounded by hummingbirds, and as the day cools other birds come out to feed on bugs and seeds in the shrubs. I see a vole scurry across the driveway moving from one garden to another, chipmunks scurry across the lawn from one garden to another and as the day fades I’m at peace with it all.

One evening I was gazing to my left, toward the long perennial island bed that stretches 130 feet north to south. In my view are Thalictrums in bloom that are 8 feet tall, torch lilies glowing with their red and yellow flames, Oriental lilies with their scents wafting in my direction, and then a movement draws my attention to the base of the group of Thalictrums at the lawn edge. I spy the face of an animal peering through the foliage watching me.

I try not to move, and in the stillness the animal feels a degree of safety. This rotund groundhog emerges from the tundra. It takes some tentative steps then moves on to the lawn where it too seems to enjoy the clover and bluegrass. No need to be alarmed for either of us. Live and let live.

He returned each afternoon, but one afternoon I watched him stand up on his hind legs so he could reach up and pull down the stem of a Rudbeckia triloba that’s about 6 feet tall. Once it was adequately bent to the ground he proceeded to strip every single leaf off the stem, all 6 feet of it, then move on to the next one and the next one. Was this a violation of our unspoken live and let live doctrine?

The next day I discovered that he also was stripping the leaves off my lilies and then found he’d been pulling up sprigs of Astilbes to eat their roots. I saw my garden being gradually decimated, and the truce was over. My first lines of defense? A BB gun and then a slingshot (both useless) followed by repellents. He was not deterred. I found his den hole and blocked it, pouring some repellent in first. I didn’t see him for days. In fact, there were times when he seemed to disappear for days at a time then reappear.

To make things much worse he decided to dig his new home under our dining room bay window. I was having no part of this excavation, and quickly poured a half a bottle of repellent down the hole. I sat, sequestered on the porch, and watched. He came out one very unhappy camper wrinkling his nose and ever so slowly slinked under the bushes and back to the lawn. Shovel and large rocks in hand, I filled the hole. He didn’t return.

I went through eight different repellents as he returned to the garden. He scoffed at them all. It was time to take more serious action and out came my Havahart “large” one-door trap. Ripe cantaloupe was placed around the trap without the trap being set, to get him used to it, and I repeated this for two days. On day 3 I put the cantaloupe inside the trap with blueberries and some ripe cherries leading to the trap and set the trigger. Three hours later he was caught.

The three-week ordeal was very depressing. I was dejected and depressed like I hadn’t been in years. It was me and 20 years of work against one fat groundhog that I wouldn’t kill.

He did hundreds and hundreds of dollars of damage to a variety of plants, and I was worried there may have been more than one. But the damage and digging stopped after the trapping, and it was as if he’d sent out some code to his buddies because for a week after that I saw none of them anywhere. None have returned to the garden.

My research revealed that none of the repellents would work despite their claims. After the trapping, though, I used castor oil and Epsom salt to dissuade his neighborhood buddies, and that seems to have helped. But once he was trapped, I got my first good night’s sleep in several weeks.

The deep funk subsided quickly, and my desire to work in the garden thankfully returned. Not sure if this is the end of this saga, though, as I know the groundhogs on the outskirts just can’t wait to revisit and feast. May the gods of horticulture bring me some hungry red foxes. Keep growing.