Diary of a Sleepy Groundhog

Hi! I’m Charlotte. I’m a woodchuck — aka a groundhog — a big, chubby squirrel who loves to sleep, eat, and dig.

Groundhog Day

February 2 — Can you believe people think groundhogs predict the weather? They say if I see my shadow on Groundhog Day there will be six more weeks of winter. Where do they come up with this stuff? I’m not a furry forecaster! I have dreams of my own you know! In fact, when I’m done … with this … nap … snort … I’m going to … snore … and then … Zzzzzzzzzzz.

Big League Burrower

February 24 — I’m better than a bulldozer when it comes to building burrows. Using only my paws and claws, I moved nearly 1,000 pounds of dirt to dig a hole in this hillside. Tree roots? No trouble. I use my teeth to chew through them. I can even close my ears to keep out dirt. Can you close your ears? My bedroom is 6 feet underground, and my hallway to the surface stretches nearly as long as a basketball court. Whew! No wonder I sleep so much.

Date Night

February 14 — This is Chuck. He’s my next-den neighbor. We woodchucks sleep all winter long. Groundhog guys wake up earlier than woodchuck women. After his snoozefest, Chuck needed to stretch his legs. While he was wandering around the neighborhood, he found my burrow and ducked inside to introduce himself. Isn’t he handsome? He likes to sleep and eat and dig just like I do! After spending the evening with me, Chuck went back to his own burrow. He said he wanted to sleep a few more weeks. I wish he would have stayed longer. Maybe I’ll see him again sometime.

Soaking Up the Sun

March 2 — All that dirt I dig has to go somewhere. I like to pile it up right outside my front door. On warm days, I love to stretch out on my dirt mound and soak up the sun. I was catching some rays when Chuck stopped by today. Something tells me I’m not his only girlfriend. I’d call him a rat, but that’s not entirely true. Woodchucks are rodents, there’s no doubt. But we’re not rats. We’re squirrels — Missouri’s largest, in fact.

Rude Roommate

April 5 — Lots of critters use woodchuck burrows. Rabbits, opossums, foxes, coyotes, weasels, raccoons, and badgers all take shelter in groundhog holes. Most are polite enough to wait for the original owner to leave before they move in. But some set up shop while we’re still here! I came home a week ago to find a striped skunk asleep in my den. Rude! And how can I put this politely? I’m pretty sure my new roommate doesn’t use deodorant. Pee-eww!

Hungry, Hungry ’Hogs

May 17 — My stinky roommate finally left! But peace and quiet didn’t last long. A few weeks ago, I gave birth to four hamster-sized bundles of joy. At first, my babies were hairless and helpless. So I fed them lots and lots of milk. In about a month, they were furry and fit. Now I bring them tender green plants to eat. They can’t get enough. They love ’em. Except for Chuck Junior. He’s picky.

Woodchuck Wrestlefest

June 3 — My kids are driving me nuts! They chase each other around the den, stirring up dust. They wrestle and fight. They growl and squeal. And they always — always — want something to eat. I can’t find a moment of peace. Luckily, the pups are old enough to follow me out of the den. They have a lot to learn about life on the surface. In a few weeks, they’ll strike off on their own.

Warning Whistle

July 6 — Today the pups and I were out on the meadow, nibbling leaves. All of a sudden, I spotted a shadow sweeping across the grass. Then I heard a hawk’s blood-chilling scream. I gave a shrill whistle, and the pups scurried back to the burrow like furry brown streaks. Whew! That was close! Although grown-up groundhogs can put up a ferocious fight, young ’chucks are easy prey for hawks, coyotes, and other hungry hunters.

Salad Days

August 7 — Nom, nom, nom. To a hungry woodchuck, the whole world’s a salad bowl. I might eat an insect on accident or an egg on occasion, but I try to stick to the four main food groups: grasses, grains, veggies, and fruits. I even climb trees — I am a squirrel after all — to feast on apples and pawpaws. With the pups off on their own, I can focus on feeding myself. I need to pack on pounds if I hope to survive winter.

Use ’Em or Lose ’Em

September 19 — My front teeth, called incisors, are sharp enough to slice through shoots and leaves like a chef’s knife through a celery stalk. Since I eat all the time, it’s good that my chompers never quit growing. If they did, I’d grind them down to nubs in no time, like a pencil eraser that’s been used too often. But — goodness forbid — if I stopped eating, my teeth might grow so long that I couldn’t open wide enough to take another bite.

Super Snoozer

October 31 — Sleeping is my super power. Tonight, I waddled deep into my burrow, curled up in my leaf-lined bed, and switched my body on standby. In a few short hours, my heart will grind nearly to a halt, beating only five times a minute. I’ll take a breath once every four minutes. And my temperature will plummet to just a few degrees above freezing. In this slowed-down state — called hibernation — I can sleep through the leanest months of winter. See you next spring. Zzzzzzzzzzzz.