A Change of Season

Pearl on a thick root on the edge of a creek bank.

After three days of wind, I figured the ground was dry enough to work and headed out to see what the dogs could find. Since there was no telling how far I would have to walk before finding something, I decided to leave the post hole digger and bar in the truck and just go with a shovel and a pack -- a small risk, but since there was very little rock on this farm, and only a few deep settes -- both of which I would stay away from-- I figured I would be OK.

Up in the fields, a strong whipping wind burned my cheeks and made my eyes water. I pulled my orange cowl out of my pack -- it was going to be a tough day if that wind did not die down a little.

I found solid ice in the first 10 holes -- not a good sign. The dogs checked quite a few more holes before they found one without an ice plug. Mountain slid in to check this clear hole out, but no one was home.

We headed over to the edge of a wide stream bottom and walked the tall forested bank above it. I was confident that the soft dry ground here would hold something.

About 100 feet along the bank, both Mountain and Pearl pinged on three small holes that appeared to be connected to a single sette. Mountain began digging furiously at one of the holes, spending a lot of energy biting at roots. I pulled her out of the hole, and tried to cut the root with the shovel blade, but Mountain was too impatient to let me have at it. I would have to stake her out if I wanted to do any digging.

Pearl stood at one of the other holes for a bit, got bored, and tried to push past Mountain into the hole she was working. Failing that, she walked ahead of Mountain about 10 feet to a small hummock of brambles and leaves. She aggressively nosed around in the brambles, and I wondered whether she had found a bolt hole. I pulled away the brush, but there was nothing there.

I went back to Mountain to see if I could move a little dirt for her. I opened up her hole a little bit, and then stood back to see if she was going to be able to get into the pipe.

Meanwhile, Pearl had gone back to the spot under the brambles. On a hunch, I walked over to where she was pinging, and sunk the shovel into the ground. A few scoop of earth, and I was into the pipe. Good ears Pearl!

Pearl went into the pipe, and in a second she was hard on it and was trying to pull it out of the pipe. Mountain came over and squeezed in next to her, and soon the two of them had a small Spring groundhog out of the hole far enough that I could dispatch it. Count this one for Pearl!



A small and very dead Spring groundhog placed high up in a tree so the dogs will stop ragging it while I pack the tools.

I filled in the holes, and we headed across a small bit of marshy ground and up through a small neck of woods to a couple of narrow fields that have small patches of woods between them. This was nice ground -- part of this 2,000 acre farm I have never worked before. I followed the dogs down the fields and into the woods where we found a nice stream that was a bit too wide for us to cross. We double-backed up through the woods, and the dogs found again. Once again Mountain worked the front of the hole and Pearl located the groundhog by listening for it to dig away. A few scoops of earth, and it was all over for groundhog #2.



The second small Spring groundhog of the day.

It was only noon, but I decided to call it a day

and head back home so I could have coffee with the wife. Two groundhogs this early in the season was a nice quick take, and the dogs had done well and were in fine fettle to boot. This was a small relaxed day without any drama and I did not want to spoil it. Plus, there's always next weekend!



Pearl slides into the ice to check a pipe.