A tale of two rodents

It is the best of times. It is the worst of times. (with apologies to Dickens) This morning I think I set a record for the earliest date I started pocket gopher trap setting. One of those rodents has been making mounds between the back yard's vernal pond and the edge of the small patch of oaks behind the house. If it weren't for their mounds, and their tendency to eat the roots of freshly planted fruit trees, I might be willing to take more of a live and let live approach. I truly wish we had more gopher snakes (Pituophis catenifer) on the property. I'd rather let them take care of the gopher population.

a pocket gopher predator looking for lunch

Photo by J. Harrington

A different rodent, one that I enjoy having as a neighbor, keeps trying to move back into the neighborhood. When we first moved here, a quarter century or so ago, a beaver, or two, lived in a den in the South bank of the pond up the road. We watched the pair for a year or two and then they were there no more. Whether they became coyote dinner or were trapped for their pelts we'll never know. Then, just last year, the flowage that feeds the pond sprouted a beaver dam.

is this a pond to which beavers are returning?

Photo by J. Harrington

Either the watershed district, or the county, or the township, or one or more of the contiguous property owners, or some combination thereof, decided that the large existing wetland that drains to the flowage shouldn't be allowed to hold more water. First about half the dam was removed. Then, I think someone set traps for the beaver. Then the rest of the dam was removed.

This Spring, we've noticed what we think are beavers back in the pond where we first saw some, across the road from where the dam was removed last year. We have no intention of telling anyone that they're back or where they are. Beavers have yet to eat any of our roots, bulbs, plants etc. I'd rather have them as neighbors than pocket gophers. At least we get to watch beavers every once in awhile. It's very rare that we every see a pocket gopher push dirt our of a tunnel.

Elegy for a Gopher

Ellen Bass

The pads of your paws scrabble
as I drag you from the tunnel
clamped to the shiny green trap,
a baby, hell-bent on saving
your twist of life, spun
from the same cells as I am, the common
intelligence of fins, wings, limbs.
The first time you see the sun
you’re splayed on your back, the shadow
of my blade above you.
Your ears, tiny colorless petals,
and at the tips of your articulated fingers,
ten frantic claws. When I strike,
your mouth opens stunningly
wide, a scream so silent
all sound is sucked down the naked
whirlpool of your throat. I hate
that I can salvage nothing.
I can’t skin and eat you, stuff or display
your fur on the mantel.
I won’t carve a needle
from your bone. Bit of breath
I bury under a stone.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.