I HATE THE GROUNDHOG!

See how fat he is?  Probably take two skillets
See how fat he is? Probably take two skillets

I hate that varmit.  Seriously.  I Just learned (click here for story) that Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, which according to legend frightened him and sent him scurrying back into his hole.  Somehow this inexplicable chain of events is responsible for six more weeks of winter.

I’m sick of winter, and say we should do something about this meteorological hegemony and bring the tyrant down?  We need to go all Bill Murray all over that beast.  Who is with me?

The logical question comes next.  What do we do with the groundhog.  Well, I say we eat him!  I have some suggestions.

"I Got You Babe"
“I Got You Babe”

Groundhogs are not very big, so we could make a mulligan stew out of him.  Think of how good a nice groundhog stew would taste–carrots, potatoes, onions, a little Worcestershire sauce for flavor, maybe some Tabasco sauce, a little garlic–all simmered together to enjoy when it gets bitter cold outside.  Nothing is as tasty as stew when it is cold, and nothing tastes as good as sweet ironic revenge.

If the groundhog is wrong, which, by the way, he often is, then the weather might actually get warmer.  That doesn’t mean we give him a reprieve.  His reign of terror must end.  But if warm weather comes early, I say we roast him on a spit out by the lake, while wearing flip flops, sunglasses, funny beach hats, and sunscreen.

If none of that is to your liking, then let’s keep it simple.  Deep fried groundhog might become a national delicacy if we can get the right marketing plan.  Just looking at how fat Punxsutawney Phil is, I would say it is slightly meatier than a chicken, but we could probably butcher him the same way–except we’d have four legs instead of two.  Then we’d soak him in buttermilk all night, batter him up, then get the grease hot.  How hard could it be?  We’d serve him with gravy and biscuits.

I’ve got other ideas.  Maybe groundhog ice cream for dessert?  Groundhog pie perhaps, like a spicey mincemeat.  Groundhog tacos might taste a little like goat, maybe?

Whatever we do, the groundhog needs to die and winter must end.

images from whnt.com and blog.indiewire.com

LOVEBIRDS

Friday I stepped outside my home around noon to walk to the mailbox.  I’d been working the morning through and hadn’t been out since I took my daughter to school, but it was still dark then.  I rounded the corner of the front and there in the concrete driveway just outside the garage door lay two greyish bluish birds.  They were in the jay family of some sort, but not bright enough to be a blue jay.  I suppose they may have been kingfishers, but i don’t think so.

BE CAREFUL OUT THERE, OK
BE CAREFUL OUT THERE, OK

One was male. The other was female.  You could tell by the brightness of the coloring.

Their little claws were curled up underneath their bodies and their eyes were open although they saw nothing.  No markings on the body; no trauma, no shots from a boy with a BB gun, no arrows, nothing.  The birds looked healthy enough, except for the fact that they were dead.

I looked up and noticed a blur of feathers on my daughters window directly overhead.  Suddenly I knew.

On a gorgeous spring day two lovebirds doing what male and female of all species do, they were flying high and soaring, enjoying each other with playful whims and delightful fancy.  I’ve seen birds do this, so have you–they dart in and out flying fast through trees and above the water as they call to each other with their many syllabic chirps, “Hey lover,” and “My you’re fast” and “Come fly away with me,” and other playful invitations to romance.  Swept up in the revelry of pheromones and the prospect of dalliance, they were not paying attention.  I shudder to think of the sudden last moments of consciousness as love turned to death, falling together to earth with full hearts and broken necks.

That is where I found them.  I named them Romeo and Juliet and put them in a shallow grave.  Love is a man splendid thing, but the world is dangerous.

 

image from www.a-home-for-wild-birds.com