Showing posts with label woodchuck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label woodchuck. Show all posts

Thursday, February 13, 2014

icicles hanging



icicles hanging
from a red and white octagon --
Winter, STOP!

I know there are places in the world where snow never ends and places where snow is never seen, but here in the heartland of America, winter is capricious. Sometimes, no snow, sometimes snow comes and melts and piles up again, and sometimes snow lasts all winter. 
          I don't mind snow, especially squeaky, sparkly powder, but I am not fond of ice, especially on roads. But this year was the coldest in nearly two decades, with repeated arctic blasts sending temperatures plunging to double digits below zero F. "Polar vortex," they call it, and after weekly rounds for several months, we are more than ready for winter to simply STOP! 
          However, it was so cold on Groundhog Day that our local woodchuck stayed firmly in his subterranean nest and refused to emerge to see whether he even had a shadow, so we can only assume that we still have six more weeks of winter to endure. 
          On the other hand, I have been seeing flocks of robins flying through the bare trees and goldfinches are molting from winter olive drab to sunflower summer yellow. Like all things in nature, nothing lasts forever, not even the darkest, coldest winter. Right now, a robin sitting on the branch of our cherry tree is singing: "Cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up!"

Saturday, February 2, 2013

Punxsutawney Phil




Punxutawney Phil
didn't see his shadow so
Spring is on its way

Groundhog Day. On the news we hear that Punxsutawney Phil, the most famous weather-predicting groundhog, did not see his shadow, which means we're supposed to have an early Spring. However, out here in Iowa, where the weather can be dramatically different from Pennsylvania, I don't know if any of our local groundhogs came out of their den. The weather was partly cloudy and well below freezing, so if they did emerge we don't know whether they came out at the moment the sun was peeking out from a cloud, casting shadows that would supposedly scare the woodchuck back into its den. Which means that we don't know for sure whether there will be six more weeks of winter in our neck of the prairie. But since winter lingers into March just about every year, it seems like a pretty good bet.
          One thing is for sure. If we'd seen a land beaver near our house, like the fat fellow outside our sun room in an earlier photo, we would have baited a live trap with marshmallows to catch the critter and then relocate it to Turkey Run Nature Preserve, far down the road from our place. Woodchucks are phenomenal diggers, tunneling up to five feet deep and 30 feet long to build their burrows. Since our house rests on a gravel foundation, we cannot afford to let them make a den under our living room.
          Smaller rodents, the squirrels, were out and about today. I watched one tunneling through the snow, searching for seeds dropped from the bird feeder. Every few moments it would sit up to quickly devour a black oil sunflower seed or frozen wild plum. It made me smile to see its little nose capped with a white powder puff. I also had a good laugh when the squirrel tried to snatch seeds directly from the bird feeder. It climbed up the wooden frame of the full-length sun room windows and leaped onto the feeder, but its weight triggered the anti-squirrel bar to close over the seed portals and it somersaulted to the ground. Back to rooting around in the cold snow!

Thursday, February 2, 2012

shadow, no shadow




shadow, no shadow --
fog in the morning, midday
sun, clouds at sunset


Groundhog Day. According to folklore, if it's cloudy on the second day of February, spring is on its way, but if it's sunny the woodchuck will see its shadow, bolt back into its burrow and there will be six more weeks of winter. We've hardly had any winter to begin with, so if the woodchuck saw its shadow today it would more likely mean the start of winter. 
          However, it's hard to say whether the groundhog saw its shadow today or not. The day begins with thick fog, so if the woodchuck is up early, no shadow and spring is just around the corner. But by midday the fog has cleared and the sun is shining, casting shadows everywhere and frightening the groundhog back into its burrow. In the afternoon, the delicate cirrus clouds spread and thicken into cirrostratus, obscuring the setting sun, so no shadow and we're in for snow.
          The weather report predicts snow tomorrow, but then this is the Midwest, so you never know.

Monday, September 26, 2011

a woodchuck shucking





a woodchuck shucking
acorns under an oak tree,
fattening for winter


     When I stop to visit my son who lives in town, a woodchuck is sitting on its haunches under an oak tree, shucking an acorn held in its paws, using its two sharp incisors to peel off the shell to get at the kernel. It doesn't stop when I get out and take its photo. I can almost hear it saying, "If you want an autograph, you'll have to wait until I'm done chowing down here." I have also observed a woodchuck gnawing the hard-shelled, oily shagbark hickory nuts so plentiful right now in our yard. However, unlike squirrels, they don't squirrel away nuts for the winter. This is because woodchucks don't eat in the winter. Instead, they hibernate from autumn to spring in a burrow dug below the frost line. During this time they can slow their breathing down to one breath per minute and their heart rate to four beats per minute, and they can lower their body temperature to conserve energy. This fellow is gorging on acorns to put on enough fat to last for seven or eight months. When it emerges in the spring, it has enough fat left until warmer weather produces the plant material that forms its main diet.
     With its short ears and legs, the woodchuck looks like a fat squirrel with a short tail or a beaver with a fluffy tail. This large rodent (Marmota monax) is also called groundhog, whistle-pig or land-beaver. It is actually a member of the ground squirrel family known as marmots. Unlike other marmots, who live in the mountains, the woodchuck lives in lowlands. But like its cousins, the groundhog likes to burrow, using its thick, curved claws to excavate tunnels and a burrow for sleeping, rearing young and hibernating. The nest chamber is lined with grasses, and there is another chamber for excrement. They can dig five feet down and thirty feet long, and move an enormous amount of dirt when digging a burrow. 
     We have a running battle with a series of groundhogs who have been undermining the gravel foundations of our house, workshop and garden shed. Catching them is tricky because, being mainly herbivores, they have plenty of food all around. We place a stick at what appears to be the main entrance, a round hole marked by a pile of gravel in front. At nightfall, we go back to see if the stick has been moved, which tells us that the groundhog is in its burrow. Then we cover the hole with the open end of a live trap and stake the wire cage down firmly. We also block any other escape holes we find. In the morning, when the groundhog exits the burrow, it trips the gate and gets caught in the trap. Then we take the woodchuck to Turkey Run, the nearest wildlife preserve, and let it go. 
     Woodchucks are usually solitary animals. The male will visit a female in her burrow for mating, but then return to his own burrow. If the burrow is abandoned, another groundhog may move in, or it may be used by red foxes, raccoons, striped skunks, cottontail rabbits or snakes.
     Like squirrels and prairie dogs, groundhogs will stand on their hind feet to watch for danger. When alarmed they will whistle to alert their fellows, hence the name whistle-pig. They also squeal when frightened and the hair on their tails sticks up, making it look bushier. Their primary foes in this area are coyotes, foxes, raccoons, dogs, hawks, owls and vehicles. To escape, they are able to climb trees or swim, but prefer to dive into their burrow.
     The name woodchuck is derived from wuchak, the Algonquian name for the animal. The similarity to "woodchuck" led to the familiar tongue-twister that I grew up with:
     How much wood would a woodchuck chuck
          if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
     A woodchuck would chuck all the wood he could
          if a woodchuck could chuck wood!