Nothing gets rid of winter's last lingering bits like a good day's worth of vigorous spring house-cleaning…and that's exactly what this groundhog was doing when I spotted his roadside burrow. Much to the homeowner's obvious vexation, I paused long enough to study how the sprucing-up was coming along, plus snap a photo of him and his handiwork.
A mound of fresh-dug earth had been removed from his snug under-the-tree tunnel home and formed into a sort of front-door hump. This acts as a soft, cool, shady porch on which ol' woodchuck can loll on sunny days, comfortably and safely surveying the comings and goings within the precincts of his immediate domain. It also acts as a protective shield, and helps hide the hole's mouth from the casual view of any carnivorous passersby who might consider whistle-pig a tasty meal.
Excess soil was pushed over and down the slope. Before long they'll darken to match the rest of exposed earth, while grass and weeds will begin growing in these tailings, adding to the entryway's camouflage.
What's more, this roadside home seems to be located in an apparently coveted neighborhood. Twenty feet away, on the same bank, another groundhog was busy at his hole…and thirty feet from that one, a third ardently worked the dirt at the entrance to his home.
Considering how territorial groundhogs usually are, I don't think this cheek-to-jowl neighborliness will endure through the summer—though time will tell.
8 comments:
Seems to be Spring cleaning weekend everywhere Grizz - the rabbits were doing exactly the same here. Mind you, a bit of sunshine does show up the dust, doesn't it?
Weaver…
You know, in the old days, a new year began with spring. I think there's always been a natural tendency to see spring as a beginning rather than the second season of a year already underway. And a new year—a new beginning—like all new starts, rightly should be cause for sprucing up, making new, redoing.
The first thing I thought about when I saw the groundhog at his cleaning labors was that I had to head to my own home and get to work doing the same thing!
The soil near the groundhog burrow looks so dry the image appears to have been taken in the arid West, Grizz.
Kali and I have a groundhog that has taken up residence under our overgrown azaleas just outside our front door; he's been there for several years. He comes out of his burrow, noshes on broadleaved weeds in our lawn, and scurries back to the safety of the burrow when alarmed. I wouldn't mind his taking up residence there (because the azalea collection is large and hides the burrow), but the groundhog also likes to sample the garden plants I try to plant around the front entryway. So, I've given up on planting around the front door and live and let live. If he gets at my vegetable garden, that's a different story altogether...
That 'home' the furry critter built has all the elements of a haven; shield from cold and wind, a view to see danger if it is near or just to gaze out at the elements of nature, it is in a good neighborhood and seems others are making their home near by as well. Soon, by design, it will blend in as the landscape thickens making this home a fortress of sorts. Sounds like and looks like "home" to me.
Love Gail
peace.....
Scott…
Your comment set me to considering…and you're right, it does look like an "arid country" shot—though it was taken Wednesday, not more than a mile up the road from here. I hadn't really thought this through before, but here's the answer.
It's partly a trick of lighting. According to the photofile info, I made the pix at 1:41 pm, so the sun was just west of directly overhead, and would have been coming straight down and toward the hole. Flat, bright light.
Too, what you see above the groundhog—except for the righthand third—is the tannish root of a mullberry tree, not earth. And the complete lower half of the image, from the animal down, is a mounded line of fresh material, which is remarkably close to an exact tannish match of the root's color, and not too much lighter than the color of the woodchuck's fur—just not as reddish—where it's lit by the sun.
So root, earth, and animal are all three close in coloration…and that coloration is obviously not the usual earthy dark, rich humus of Ohio soil. Instead, it's really light because it's quite sandy. And that's where the location comes in.
The road parallels the river—the same one I live on a mile downstream. I was driving in a downstream direction. I stopped in the middle of the road and made the shot out the pickup's lowered window. The groundhog and burrow is on my direct left. The river is on my right, and would be directly across the road in the direction the groundhog is looking. From the roadway there's a three-foot drop to a floodplain woods of mostly sycamores, and 50 feet beyond, another three feet below this floodplain, is the water.
This road doesn't flood anymore because a century ago, a high earthen flood-control dam was built a few hundred yards upstream. But the slope where the groundhog built his burrow home is sited just a few feet up what would have been the mid-portion of the stream's historic high-water bank—and as you know, sandy, gravely soil is common along many Buckeye banks hereabouts. It's looks so light and desert-like because that's exactly what it is—a mix similar to what you'd expect to see throughout the arid West.
Sound reasonable?
Gail…
Yup, a nice place…safe, snug, comfy, with a good view. Ideal for groundhogs or hobbits. About what most of us really want in our home, right?
Now that you've pointed out that the "bank" above the groundhog is the root of a mulberry, I can see it; thank you. And I appreciate the explanation of why the soil has the appearance it does.
It seems to me that the soil you describe would be perfect for a kingfisher burrow, too, Have you ever found one of their excavations in the area? Our soil seem to be "tighter," and the area appropriate for kingfisher nesting more limited to the banks very close-by our extraordinarily flood-prone stream than yours, yet somehow we have a fairly healthy group of kingfishers patrolling the creek. I'll bet our kingfishers lose their nests half the years from flooding.
Scott…
I'm glad you made the comment. I knew the quick answer…but hadn't taken time to reason out the why of such explanation, which I think is far more interesting.
There's an excellent kingfisher population along this stream, too—I see and hear them most every day. In fact, about two weeks ago, I took a long shot of a fishing kingfisher waiting on a limb during a snow squall. It was cold, windy, the water was high and fairly muddy, and the bird looked rather miserable—but during the time I watched, he dove three times and on each came up with a minnow. I'd planned to run the shot, but the weather turned nice and my photography and posts followed the spring.
I have found kingfisher nest burrows along the stream fairly regularly as I wade for smallmouth or float downstream in a canoe. Because this river often rises 6–8 feet—or more in the 45 mile stretch above the flood-control dam—the birds typically build on the faces of higher cut banks, which indeed consist of a mix of sand/soil/gravel such as you see in the groundhog pix. Along here, such safely-high banks are less common; nesting is more problematic. I don't know whether the kingfishers could be successful one year out of ten. However, there are plenty of smaller feeder creeks nearby affording good sites.
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