Growing up, I had no idea how wonderful and unusual my childhood was. I ran barefoot and played alongside animals of many species. I couldn’t tell you the first time I watched a calf being born or how often I’ve held a baby chick or nuzzled noses with a young foal.
One of my earliest memories was of the woodchuck. I’m certain he had a name, as all of our animals – domesticated or wild – were named. I was just too young to remember it, so we’ll just refer to him as “the woodchuck”. I remember playing on the diningroom floor near the door and looking over to see a large brown ball of fat and fur clawing the front door open.
I moved into the livingroom so as to be out of his way. It wasn’t that I was afraid of him, but I knew that I wasn’t to touch him or to get in his path to the kitchen. The house was always a bustle of activity, but it always got a bit louder when it was the woodchuck’s dinner time.
Ma made him a gruel of bread soaked in milk, and the woodchuck LOVED it. If it wasn’t available when he decided it was time to eat, or someone got in his way, he would reprimand the offender with a solid and painful nip. I don’t remember being bitten by him, but I was wary so I’m certain that I’d been on the wrong side of his temper before.
The woodchuck lived under our house. He had borrowed underneath the floorboards, which rested directly on the ground. So the woodchuck was only just a boards and shovel fulls of dirt away at any given time.
One of our rules was that while we’d raise wild animals, they were never to be kept – they roamed free and were expected to return to the wild when it suited them. Somehow, the woodchuck never got that memo. I think the fat boy was just plain addicted to bread and milk and was ornery enough to refuse to leave.
One day, Mom decided that the woodchuck needed to be moved because he just wasn’t leaving on his own. I’m guessing that his burrow was starting to stink up the house or the ornery woodchuck had nipped her one time too many when she wasn’t fast enough with his meal. For whatever reason, the woodchuck was collected up and driven to the top of our property far away from the house. It was nice not having the giant brown contankerous rat clawing open the door and stomping through the house. Ma seemed more relaxed than I’d seen her in a while.
Morning came and the woodchuck was at the door demanding his meal. The woodchuck would not give up his bread and milk so easily.
It took a few more attempts before the woodchuck figured out that he had been evicted, I think he just met someone and she wasn’t interested in living underneath a noise filled house, no matter how good bread and milk tasted.
