Ladies and gentlemen, we are at war. At least I am, anyway.
The borders of my yard have been invaded by an unwanted guest who seems intent on raiding my garden and digging up my lawn. Unlike the federal government, I have no intention of giving this illegal alien a deportation hearing followed by six or seven appeals.
In short: That gopher has to go.
In some ways, I think, it might be easier to deport an illegal resident than banish the gopher that is squatting in my backyard. With an illegal alien, you can dispatch an army of lawyers to do your dirty work for you, leak details of the case to the press and whip up a little nationalism to prop up your next election campaign.
With the gopher, on the other hand, it’s much more difficult.
Gophers don’t care about lawyers, or judges or the rest of the legal system. They are, however, adept at looking cute. This poses a problem – how do I get rid of a gopher once my four-year-old daughter has named it?
I’ve tried flooding his hole. Mr. Chewy, it turns out, doesn’t mind. To him, it’s like someone installed a waterslide in his living room. Now, everyday is a kiddy-gopher birthday party.
I’ve tried filling in his hole with dirt, rocks, chunks of cement and even covering it with a cut-off sheet of plywood. Mr. Chewy remains maddeningly resilient. Every afternoon he’s found a new way dig out or around any obstacle in his way.
I’m going to have to take things up a notch.
The most obvious solution is to run out to the farm, grab a .22 and give the little beggar a lead sedative. But I live in town, in a house that has no holes in the siding, bordered by neighbours who prefer their children to have no new holes. In addition, an RCMP officer just moved in across the street from me. I probably need a few weeks of letting him borrow my tools before I start shooting up the neighbourhood.
And, of course, there’s the Mr. Chewy factor. I’m not sure my daughter is ready for her first Old Yeller lesson in life and death. She still thinks Bambi’s mother went on vacation and will return in Bambi II – The Search For Rainbows and Lollipops.
So, it’s back to the drawing board.
There is a device advertised on the Internet called The Gophinator. It is a 60-gallon anhydrous ammonia tank designed with 50 feet of hose and a specially built wand. Arnold Schwarzenegger may or may not play a role in the process. It only takes about five seconds per hole, and one tank full can do up to 500 holes.
Quite frankly, the whole thing sounds like overkill. And what if David Suzuki drops by unexpectedly? There’s got to be a better way.
Here’s some advice from www.garden-counselor-lawn-care.com: “Fill the tunnel with propane, butane, or natural gas, and ignite it. It might work. It’s rather dangerous… You might kill the gopher. You will probably kill your plant roots.”
Thanks, but no thanks.
Maybe I’ll take the all-natural approach and bring it some gopher predators. Like the Minute Men at the United States-Mexico border, surely nature’s drunken tough guys can make life so unbearable for my gopher that he will leave!
So what eats a gopher, anyway? According to Answers.com, I need to pick up some hawks, badgers, cats, snakes, and big lizards. Hmmm. Like the Minute Men, I think this solution may be more trouble than it’s worth.
Besides, who can afford to buy new badgers? I guess I could check Kijiji.
Well, I give up.
Mr. Chewy, I guess you win.
Just don’t expect me to pay for your health care.
