Myth: Because of their fantastic burrowing skills, the United States’ Defense Department considered training woodchucks to locate underground stores of biological weapons in Iraq. Fact: Woodchucks are avowed pacifists who’ve not participated in a human conflict since attacking an encampment of fur traders during the French Indian War of the late 17th century.
I like woodchucks. I like spotting them when I drive in the country – sunning themselves along the edges of rural roads, their noses twitching in the open air, their dull eyes focused on the vehicles hurtling by, seemingly without worry to the mortal danger the passing rubber tires pose to their pudgy bodies. Perhaps the woodchucks’ laissez faire attitude toward danger is really an inherent dimwittedness. Like the one I encountered several years ago wandering blindly down Frank Sinatra Boulevard with an empty can of creamed corn wedged over his head. Or are they just thrill-seekers – extreme rodents who push the envelope of death for that delicious adrenaline rush?
Riding my bike in the Jersey City Heights the other evening, I came face to face with a woodchuck that fit both descriptions. He was sitting on a sidewalk in a very precarious position: to his back lay a high chain link fence that guarded a small wood; directly in front of him was a heavily trafficked road. Not only was it sure suicide for the woodchuck to try and cross the street, but any escape to safe ground on the other side was blocked by a steep stone wall. In short: he was stuck.
Myth: In medieval times, woodchucks were trapped and killed for their long, sharp claws, which were made into ornamental combs for the wives of noblemen. Fact: Medieval women considered it bad luck to desecrate a woodchuck in any manner, preferring to have the animal caught, induced into a stupor with strong spirits, and placed atop their head as a living fashion accessory at celebratory functions.
I decided to help the woodchuck. My idea was to remove my T-shirt, hurl it over the animal like a net, then scoop the critter up and toss it back over the fence before he had the chance to gnaw or scratch me. But each time I came close to the woodchuck, he’d scurry away, finally positioning himself behind a telephone pole – just a few feet from the road and the onslaught of speeding cars.
Thomas Edison said that “Genius is one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration.” How true. I was covered in sweat when I spied an orange traffic cone amidst some other garbage at the fence’s base. I tiptoed around the pole and placed the wide mouth of the cone to the woodchuck’s right. Then I moved with stealth to the other side and stamped my feet and whistled. The startled woodchuck turned and ran directly into the cone, wedging himself headfirst in the flexible plastic. I scooped up the cone, scaled the fence, and then shook it like a ketchup bottle until the woodchuck fell out. He landed on his feet and tore off into the woods without a look back.
Myth: In India, woodchucks have been known to terrorize rural villages, dragging virginal women from their beds in the middle of the night and into the woods where they dance the tango and quick-step around them until dawn. Fact: Like other members of the rodent family, woodchucks are tone- deaf and lack even the most rudimentary dancing skills. I climbed back on my bike and rode away, elated that I was able to deliver the woodchuck back to his natural environs. The fact that the patch of wild he returned to was strewn with old tires, rusted metal, and assorted non-combustible waste products did not sway my good feeling. He was liberated to go where he pleased. And I, peddling along to the din of honking horns and the curses of angry commuters, had open road in front of me. Let freedom ring. – John McCaffrey
John McCaffrey, Hoboken resident, is a frequent contributor of the Current. In 2004 he was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. He is currently at work on a novel.