Or in my case, Kill the Groundhog.
Normally, I am a very peace-loving guy. But there are a few things that will make me go from 0 to 60 in about 3 seconds. One is anybody trying to hurt my kids. Another is wanton destruction of something I put my own blood, sweat, and tears into -- literally.
Anyone who knows how I feel about my garden, knows that over the last 10 years, I have lost all sympathy for the furry menace known as the groundhog. These oversized rodents have been pilfering and razing my precious vegetable plot every year despite hundreds of dollars and scores of hours trying to prevent it in a humane and natural way, including humane traps, fences, repellents, and scare tactics. The deer and the rabbits I tolerate and am largely successful in keeping them away. But the groundhog I hate.
Now I have nothing but rage for the varmints. Recently, after wiping out my peas, beans, and lettuce -- did you know those suckers can climb trees and fences? -- I caught a young adult groundhog idling by my trellis. I grabbed my pitchfork -- yes, really, a pitchfork -- and chased tubby down over a half acre. I winged him with the flat by launching it like a spear, and if I'd been half a shade faster and more callous, I'd have stabbed him through. You PETA-types can take a flying leap; this is man vs wild.
Neighbors have tried trapping and releasing them, but the problem is they never take them far enough away to make a difference. Duh, they just walk home in a few days or hours. Next humane trap volunteer is getting swimming lessons -- with the cage.
Now that I've vented my spleen, take a look at this Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd clip of "Kill the Wabbit". I've got to go find some other windmills to tilt.