Sunday, July 10, 2011

I am NOT a Gopher Fan

The only way to get rid of them is with a pellet gun.  Or a shot gun.  Or a large arsenal of explosives, apparently.  If you know a better way, help me out.  I don't want to go the poison route, but any ideas are more than welcome.

The summer started out with one adorable little gopher trying to outrun me to the ditch before I could run him over with the lawnmower. Oh the fun I had watching him weave back and forth through the tall grass, looking for a safe refuge.  I tapped the brake to give him a head start.  Now I wish I had kicked it in gear and cruised right on over him.

They're eating my peas, the beautiful fresh shoots that came from the seeds I so lovingly planted.  They have dug holes all over the yard, one of which I just discovered in my freshly manicured perennial beds, dirt flung all over the sidewalk.  WRETCHED gophers!  (For lack of a better word).

Tonight while mowing I was actually looking for one to run over.  Bring it on gopher-man.  I didn't see even one.  Until I approached the open garage door to drive the mower in.  There sat one of the little brats, and I'm pretty sure he was telling me he was Number One.  He ran into the garage, and after ten minutes of trying to shoosh him out I gave up.  I walked around to the back of the house and propped the pellet gun (thanks, Dad) on the patio.  Then remembering I had forgotten to grab the hoe that I needed to weed the garden, I proceeded back around the corner, all the while telling myself "I bet that damn gopher will be just sittin' there".  And he was. Right outside the door, giving me the other finger.

I got him though.

Heather, 3; Gophers, 0.  (Insert evil cackle).

1 comment:

Rachelle said...

This was fun to read! Loved your evil cackle. :o)