Hey everyone. Once upon a time I worked at a chemical plant that was about a mile from a big river.There was a big tank of acid on the site and groundhogs had burrowed under the tank, which is not uncommon. The river was East of the tank and the sun set, of course, to the West. I worked evening shift and usually found a way to stroll around outside, just a bit, at sunset. Most evenings in the summer, the groundhog would come out to enjoy the sunset. The oddity was, he always faced the river, which was out of sight, rather than the sunset. I've always been a keen student of nature and animals and the weird behavior of this groundhog has bothered me for years. I mean, he would sit and watch out across the fields in the direction of the river. He cared nothing for the beautiful sunsets to the West. He wouldn't move for several minutes at a time, sitting statue-like on his hindquarters with his forefeet in the air.
Did I detect a wistfulness in his stare? Was there an expression of sadness? I don't know. At the last rays of the setting sun he would go beneath the tank once again.
I have formulated a few theories concerning the actions of this furry friend. Why he looked toward the river and so forth.
1. He was thinking about a really nice-looking groundhog chick he used to date, down by the river.
2. He was thinking about his childhood home, down in the river bank, where his mother would read him stories about Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer.
3. He can smell the river, has heard stories about it, but can't summon the courage to actually travel that far from home. Like many of us.
4. He was dreaming about the days his forefathers talked about, when the air and water were clean.
5. He misses Bill Murray.
6. He is irritated and bitter that he didn't make enough money to retire after that gig in Pennsylvania.
7. He was bullied by a turkey when he was younger. He despises himself for being forced away from his home at the river. He dreams of beating the stuffing out of that turkey some day. Yuk, yuk.
8. The sun bothers his eyes.
9. He is reflecting on how he hates the name 'groundhog' but figures that any name is better than woodchuck.
10. He is, after many years, coming to grips with the fact that he:
a. Is not an eagle.
b. Must wear a fur coat wherever he goes.
c. Smells bad and the nearest bath is a mile away.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
Did I detect a wistfulness in his stare? Was there an expression of sadness? I don't know. At the last rays of the setting sun he would go beneath the tank once again.
I have formulated a few theories concerning the actions of this furry friend. Why he looked toward the river and so forth.
1. He was thinking about a really nice-looking groundhog chick he used to date, down by the river.
2. He was thinking about his childhood home, down in the river bank, where his mother would read him stories about Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer.
3. He can smell the river, has heard stories about it, but can't summon the courage to actually travel that far from home. Like many of us.
4. He was dreaming about the days his forefathers talked about, when the air and water were clean.
5. He misses Bill Murray.
6. He is irritated and bitter that he didn't make enough money to retire after that gig in Pennsylvania.
7. He was bullied by a turkey when he was younger. He despises himself for being forced away from his home at the river. He dreams of beating the stuffing out of that turkey some day. Yuk, yuk.
8. The sun bothers his eyes.
9. He is reflecting on how he hates the name 'groundhog' but figures that any name is better than woodchuck.
10. He is, after many years, coming to grips with the fact that he:
a. Is not an eagle.
b. Must wear a fur coat wherever he goes.
c. Smells bad and the nearest bath is a mile away.
From the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills.
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