The groundhogs in my backyard have been around so long they've put their names on the mortgage.

Four or five generations into their hostile takeover, they treat powdered repellants like recreational drugs and coyote urine like cologne.

They dig holes in only the most inconvenient places, like near pathways or beneath the deck, and have apparently learned to read receipts so they can exclusively eat the most expensive flowers.

The one time I paid to have a company trap them, the scorecard at the end of the week was two squirrels, a raccoon and a skunk — but no woodchucks, whistle-pigs, thickwood badgers, Canada marmots or whatever other aliases the devious groundhogs use.

Among yard invaders, "groundhogs are definitely the smartest," said Nick Burgess, the president of CJB Pest & Mosqui

See Full Page