whistling pig farm (ah the places I have lived)

Groton, Connecticut
I had a ground hog (his other name: whistling pig, wood chuck) named Woody.  He wasn't afraid of me but he wasn't a pet.
I came home from work and found him sitting in front of the clothes dryer, which was in the garage. Apparently someone had gnawed and eaten a hole from the crawl space (maybe) into the garage behind the oil boiler/furnace.
The crawl space (dirt floor) was home to family of skunks, too.
Yes, I had a critter farm in the city of Groton, CT.
I didn't feed Woody, my grass did.  (Or the skunks ate the mice/rats in the crawl space, as I was told by the Skunk Lady (via email).
One night we heard little baby skunks having a squealing match under the floor. (Not good) Those little fuckers could spray as bad as their parents. (It was totally impossible to sleep with that smell.)
So I bought bobcat urine. Yes, there was a hardware store that sold it. (Don't ask how they harvest it. I have no clue.)
You dip toothpicks and cotton balls in that urine and put them around the yard and crawl space.
They told me a bigger predator would make the skunks rethink living under my 100+ year old cottage. Maybe it would scare off Woody, too.
No chance of that.

Groundhogs in the Garden

Here are tips for identifying and getting rid of groundhogs or woodchucks.

(I have a more of this story in the chapbook BECOMING as Laramie Harlow)

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