The Unwelcome New Neighbor

My neighbors across the street just called to me, "Carol, watch your lawn because we have a gopher," pointing to the patch of dirt which has newly appeared in their front lawn. They said they'd gladly send him over. I don't want him, of course, but I'm pretty sure if he wants to come he will dig right through under the street.

Stuff like this is a bit distressing for me. I mean, Ron--that's the male half of the Contas (across-the-street neighbors)--should just kill the thing. Hose down the hole, pitch fork, trap, something. Maybe a tiny bit of dynamite? (Joking.) Or a good cat who likes gophers. Whatever. My point of view is this: it would be a lot easier for him to take care of it than for me to have to take care of it. Could I be wrong? I just hope Jan Conta is not environmentally opposed to killing gophers. She might be, you know.

This whole gopher thing could turn out to be much worse than the raccoons who used to traipse across my yard on their way to their nest under Phil Jones' front porch. And he did set traps for them, using peanut butter sandwiches for bait. Caught a few cats and finally the baby raccoon but never the big guys. They would slip in, grab the sandwich, and slip out again.

The Joneses moved a few years ago, and I haven't talked to the Bakers, who bought Phil Jones' house, about raccoons, which may mean they moved, too--the raccoons. At least, I don't see them any more, and I haven't seen evidence of them since I found such evidence (and mighty nasty evidence at that) on my upstairs deck. Rubber gloves, plastic bag, water, bleach, scrubbing sponge later I got rid of the evidence, and in time the smell was gone, too .

But a gopher. I think my sons would have to come over and help me. I know they watched their dad, probably helped him, when he went after the gophers at 722. It seemed quite a little adventure, one I was always glad to see the end of. I liked knowing the place was ours. You know, ours.

At this house, besides the raccoons, we've had squirrels in the crawl space, red-shafted flickers pecking holes in the siding, carpenter ants wherever (but when they began congregating in the pantry, I took drastic and very expensive action), marauding visits from neighborhood cats--they dug up my flowers and one year ate my baby finches--and this year a nest of crows. But I've written enough about them, except, I wonder if crows eat gophers.

Oh well. I guess it's all part of home ownership and lawn care. And no one ever said such things would always be pleasant. For now, I'll just hope Ron takes care of the problem. Maybe I should encourage him.