A few years ago, my grandson sat next to me in my pickup truck, and we found ourselves reminiscing about the massive groundhog tunnel winding through his great-grandpa’s old barn. It reminded me of a conversation with one of my clients, who was struggling with her own groundhog problem.
Reflecting on those days, I realized that the same groundhog had made that barn its home for years, almost as if it were part of the family’s story. I can relate to the idea of escaping the cold and finding a cozy spot for the winter—something we all appreciate here in the Midwest. But the real trouble comes when these furry tenants decide to stay for good, turning our barns into their permanent residences.
Groundhogs—Marmota monax, for the scientifically minded—have a knack for finding the best spots. That beautiful concrete work in my father-in-law’s barn? It didn’t stand a chance against a determined groundhog. So, what are we supposed to do when our old barns become their chosen apartments?
When my first wife and I lived near Overton, Ohio, we were close to that same barn my father-in-law proudly rented to neighbors. It became a bit of a family gathering spot, but the real star was always that monster groundhog who, much to everyone’s frustration, laid claim to the floor and left huge holes in the concrete. We all joked about it, but the damage was no laughing matter.
My father-in-law tried everything, but that groundhog was a tough tenant who wasn’t going anywhere. Anyone who’s dealt with groundhogs knows they’ll eat just about anything, and as rodents, their teeth grow like crazy—about 1/16 of an inch per week! That means they’re always looking for something to gnaw on. If you’ve ever watched them dig, you’ll notice their bodies are built for the job—curved spines, strong limbs, and thick claws, not unlike a mole. And if you get close enough (though I wouldn’t recommend it), you’ll see they have two coats of fur: a dense underlayer and a lighter, frosted top coat. It’s all part of their charm, I suppose.
That old groundhog didn’t just stick to the barn—it would wander out into the fields, leaving its mark wherever it went. If you’ve ever farmed, you know the headache: one hidden hole can mean a busted tractor axle or a ruined day in the field.
Groundhogs have been a part of our landscape for centuries—Carl Linnaeus described them back in 1758, so we’re not the first to deal with these persistent critters! I’ve noticed, though, that you won’t spot them in Florida (I never have, anyway), since that’s outside their range. But if you live anywhere from Hudson Bay to Alaska, or across most of Canada, you’ll probably cross paths with one. They’re absent from the Great Plains, but plenty of folks across the continent have their own groundhog stories to tell.
Groundhogs have their fair share of enemies—wolves, cougars, coyotes, foxes, bobcats, bears, eagles, dogs and, of course, people. If you have a big dog, you might already have an upper hand! Over the years, I’ve found that harvesting vegetables as early as possible helps keep groundhogs from making your garden their buffet. Raised beds are another trick I’ve seen work well. We used to spend hours cleaning up the yard, removing brush and piles of rocks, and trimming back overgrown areas—anything to make those groundhogs feel less at home. Clearing out old tree trunks also means they can’t sharpen their teeth nearby.
One family effort I remember involved filling groundhog holes with stones, rocks, and gravel, making it tough for them to dig back in. Trapping is another option—bait with lettuce leaves or apples, and set the trap close to the den.
For the more stubborn tenants, we’d pour a sudsy ammonia mix (2 tablespoons of detergent to 2 cups of ammonia) down the hole and repeat daily until they got the message. Usually, one treatment did the trick, but sometimes persistence paid off. If you want to go the natural route, groundhogs aren’t fans of garlic or hot peppers—crushing cloves and spreading the paste or spraying a hot-pepper-and-soap mix on the burrow often sends them packing.
Getting rid of a stubborn groundhog can feel a lot like evicting a deadbeat renter—never fun, but sometimes necessary to protect what’s yours. The good news is, unlike troublesome tenants, groundhogs don’t require a court date—just a bit of persistence and a few tricks from those of us who’ve been there.
I hope you have a good stroll in your garden. If you have any questions, email me at ericlarson546@yahoo.com.