Down on the Wilson Road

    It's war here with rodents. They chew up our stuff and frighten the womenfolk. I've tried prevention, but even the White House has mice, so I'm okay with trapping and poisoning mice in and around the house. I don't like it and I offer a prayer for the dead, and do it anyway.

   I used to shoot squirrels, but could not stand watching their death throes, so I switched to trapping. I transport them five miles from home and let them go. I know their chances of survival are slim in a new environment, but at least they have a chance.

   This spring I saw a fisher in the rafters of our garage. Fishers and other members of the weasel family eat squirrels. I noted a lack of squirrels at that time. The fisher probably moved on after cleaning up our place. Now we have an infestation of chipmunks, bold little creatures that scurry around your feet and retreat under the porch when you go for them.

   I set out my Havahart trap last evening and baited it with sunflower seeds. When I arose early this morning, there was a chipmunk in the trap. The sibling who was condoling with him zipped under the porch at my approach. I usually go for my mile long walk along County Road 8 first thing, but I was not going to make the chipmunk wait. Who knows what he was imagining. So I put him in my trunk and headed west on 8. 

   My friend Steve accuses me of dropping my prisoners at the end of his road. Whenever he sees a squirrel at his bird feeder, he presumes it's one of mine. Indeed I once caught a squirrel during a blizzard and left it off at the end of Steve's road because I feared both the squirrel and I would perish in the storm. When I let the squirrel out, he bounded over to the old one room school house nearby and got up on the roof. I presume he went down the chimney and found shelter. He may be there yet.

   In good weather, I'm a strict five mile man. I read that if you drop an animal off less than five miles away, he'll be able to make his way back to his home. So I drive west on 8 and after a couple of jogs, I reach a Wildlife Management Area. Perfect. I point the cage towards the woods, open the door, and after a moment's hesitation, the critter bounds across the ditch and into the thick undergrowth. They almost always climb a few feet up a tree for a look around. We say goodby and I head for home.

   Ennaways, as I drove west this beautiful morning, I decided to drive another mile to the northwest end of the Wilson Road. I love the Wilson Road. It's one of those places like Beltrami Forest and Thief Lake that give the lie to the rectangular flatness of this area. I drove down the gravel road a thousand feet and let my passenger out. I set my Fitness app for one mile and walked along the road, tall trees on one side, a field of buckwheat and rye planted for the deer on the other. After half a mile I turned back to the car. It was a morning in paradise for me. I can't speak for the chipmunk. But he'll cheer up when I deliver his brother later.