BACK-40 NOTEBOOK

■ Brian Lovett~Whitetail News Editor

WAR (OF THE WHISTLE) PIGS

When destructive varmints threaten your food plots and outbuildings, you’d best be prepared. If not, hilarity might ensue.

Food plotting presents many challenges, not the least of which involves maintenance. But when that task evolves into maneuvers and then allout war, things can get interesting.

None of that entered my mind when my wife and I purchased our little property almost three years ago. Initially, we focused on fixing up the cabin and getting the food plot in working order. Then we focused on fun stuff, such as planting trees, placing trail cameras and setting stands. But soon, the visitors arrived.

The first popped its head up from an unseen hole near a small hilltop shed. Soon, others announced themselves, sometimes even scurrying over a rock retaining wall overlooking the garage. Groundhogs. Woodchucks. Whistle pigs. Whatever you call them, they weren’t going away. And when I tripped on a fresh hole along the southern edge of our main food plot, that did it. Echoing Bill Murray, I fell back, acquired superior firepower and hoped that would be all she wrote.

During our next visit, I set up a nifty sniper’s nest on the cabin deck, complete with a comfortable chair and a steady rest. And when the groundhogs began to emerge one rainy morning from under our woodshed, I was ready. I felt almost guilty picking them off with the .223 at 70 steps, but then I reminded myself that I couldn’t tolerate their destructive ways. After about 15 minutes, I was satisfied that I’d eliminated the group and called a halt. For the rest of that summer, peace again ruled the food plot.

This past fall, however, another interloper appeared. This woodchuck was different, though — secretive, wary and uncannily clever. It would only show itself now and then, and it seemed to time its movements to catch me off guard. So as time passed, its network of tunnels increased, and I never got a clear shot at it. Well, actually, I had it in the cross-hairs at 65 steps one hot July morning, but the shot angle would have damaged or at least sullied my wife’s she-shed, so I waited for a better opportunity. Instead, the whistle pig hopped over a small rise and disappeared.

I didn’t see the little varmint much this past fall, but a quick walk around our place during March revealed it had overwintered under the woodshed. Vowing to clean up the problem, I made a mental note to bring the rifle during our next visit — and then promptly forgot.

Perhaps that spurred the little critter to be more daring. Or maybe it was just tired of hiding under the shed. Either way, it was pretty active during our most recent visit to the cabin, even running across our yard and popping up from under several buildings as we watched. Kicking myself for having left the .223 at home, I forged a battle plan with the only weapon on hand — my 9mm pistol.

I can hear you laughing already. Sure, the 9mm has more than enough firepower to end any whistle-pig-sized threat. However, getting within range to actually place a bullet in a groundhog-sized target would take some doing.

My first clumsy stalk attempt sent the woodchuck racing for cover, and it holed up tight the rest of that day. The next morning, however, it slipped out for a bite from under the woodshed, and I plotted strategy. I could easily slip out on the deck or out of the basement window and get the drop on it. However, that would entail a 60-plus-yard shot — not exactly solid handgun range. No, I’d have to sneak out of the cabin, traipse around the building, slip through the edge of the woods and use a brushy point to hide my approach. Then, with luck, I might get within 20-some yards of the target.

The first attempt went well until I neared the shed. Then, peeking around the point, I realized that brush and weeds around the foundation hid the critter. So, I returned to the cabin, glassed the area again and glimpsed the woodchuck hunkered down right next to the outer wall. Using that info, I made my second run.

It went well, too, until I got almost within range. Then, a visitor to our cabin slammed his truck door, and I saw movement as the whistle pig dove into his hole and disappeared. Argh.

The situation regressed after that, as the woodchuck only popped its head out of the hole every five to 10 minutes but never left the security of the shed. And because my wife and I had to return home, I declared a cease-fire and packed the 9mm away.

I’m not sure which tunnel the little devil is using now. I probably need to put a few cameras up to pattern its movements and form a plan to return with the .223.

Then again, cameras might be a bad idea, as I really don’t relish capturing images of a groundhog laughing.