When A Dog Catches Gopher That's Like a Guy Catchin' What?

Intelligence photograph depicts
enemy infiltration. Source: CIA

Despite the Obama Administration's intensified drone strikes, the Gopher-ban regrouped during the winter and formed an alliance with the Paka-Squirrelies (aka "Squirrels") to launch a spring offensive discovered in the Tempranillo zone by local intelligent assets on the ground.  The Squirrel-tribe possesses biological weapons of mass destruction including rabies virus and plague virus. Intelligence photographs of the site show enemy penetration threatening soft targets. A person of interest code-named "Mr. Gopher" was identified. Assets were deployed to render, capture or eliminate said Mr. Gopher "with extreme prejudice."

Assigned to the mission was a canine asset code-name "Bluey." When I gathered the tools I would use for the mission (a shovel, gopher trap, and latex gloves to protect me from the biological viruses), Bluey became as excited as a marine on leave walking through a red light district. We studied the photographs and set our traps where we expected Mr. Gopher to strike. Day 1, Mr. Gopher approached target, found our trap and disarmed it. Day 2, Mr. Gopher found our reset trap and disarmed it. Day 3, Bluey went on reconnaissance to the trap area, took up position and waited as I went on a search and destroy mission in the area to clear out enemy combatants (namely Mr. Mildew, an ally of the Gopher-ban).

"Bluey" waiting for "Mr.
Gopher." 

When I returned to the Tempranillo block I saw Bluey with a prisoner, taken alive. To my surprise, it was a member of the Squirrel tribe and not Mr. Gopher. Since Abu Ghraib, we've been cautious about photographing enemy combatants and their treatment.  To protect his cover and recriminations from  ACLU lawyers, Bluey was sent back to his handler and I dealt with the prisoner, who now, according to his faith, is surrounded by a harem of squirrel virgins in heaven, while his earthy, headless remains have been shoveled into the squirrel caves, as a warning to other squirrels who would trespass on our lands, steal our grapes, steal our avocados and dare align themselves with the Gopher-ban and organize safe havens for rattlesnakes.

When you take a dog out to hunt gopher and you catch a squirrel, that's a pretty good day.

Once a dog has tasted gopher, he's just a guy out hunting for pussy.

New Vineyard Friend: (Don't Call Me Kitty) Carlyle

When our neighbors told us they were going away on vacation and asked us to take care of their cat how could we refuse? Especially after they told us he catches gophers. And, because he was going to be outside, there would be no litter box to clean. Carlyle is the skinniest, most undistinguished, runt of a cat you've ever seen. But the fact that he was going to spend nights outside in Coyote Country was impressive. The neighbors two week vacation was going to be his test of cathood, his first allnighters in the wild and no sooner did the neighbors leave that the coyotes, who had been on their own hiatus, came howling back to town in the valley below.

Our Japanese vineyard manager can't pronounce l's and the closest sound she can mimic is "r" so she calls him Carrow. "Isn't his name Karl Rove?" She's always watching Fox News when not vineyarding.

The vineyard needed spraying and as I walked down the rows of vines in my space suit Carlyle trotted faithfully behind while vineyard dog stayed in the shade under a tree, supervising. My new best friend in the vineyard. Then, Carlyle brought me a present (a mouse trying to get in the house, pictured above). Then I found the remains of an avocado-eating chipmunk. Yes, old Carlyle is a good cat. Bluey is still trying to figure out exactly who this "Carrow" is. The last time he tried to sniff his butt he almost got his eyes scratched out. Undeterred, Bluey chased Carlyle up a pepper tree, where he sat on a limb and smiled like the Cheshire cat. The neighbors came back and Carlyle had survived the coyotes and the Blue-Merle and we liked having him around so each day you can hear calls of "Karrrrooooow0, Karrrrooooooowwwo" and "here kitty, kitty, kitty" in the vineyard, and the prancing feline will make an appearance. Of course those catcalls are also triggers for the Blue-Merle, setting him off in a frantic search. It's good to have a new weapon to deploy against the chipmunks, who are boldly racing into the vineyard in search of purple grapes. Vineyard cat.

New World vs. Old World Shoot Out at Blue-Merle Vineyard: Surprising Results

The Queen hummed a tune in the manner of a Dr. Seuss song:

"That Fidel I am,
That Fidel I am,
I do not like that Fidel I am."

As everyone knows, what you think about most of the time comes true and Fidel appeared waddling up the driveway. It had been almost a year since they last met when she fired him and took over management of the vineyard herself.

"Hey, senorita, ¿Cómo estás?"

"Hey Fidel, don't you senorita me. What the hell do you want?"

"May I have some of your lemons?"

"Can you set some gopher traps?" So a cease fire was arranged whereby Fidel set 5 gopher traps and took 5 lbs. of lemons, tangelos, oranges and limes. Normally he charged $10 per gopher (carrying around the same used-gopher-carcass from vineyard to vineyard collecting his bounty), but he was dreaming of margaritas that evening and offered his services in exchange for citrus.

When I got home from my daytime job she told me about her encounter with Fidel. I was glad to see they had reached a detente of sorts in their cold war. Bluey and I went out to inspect the traps.

Now Fidel is the legendary gopher trapper of Blue-Merle Country, and it's not for nothing that he could make a living catching the varmints. He certainly relishes the victorious hunt, celebrating by stringing up the victims on fence, tree or trellis as a warning to other gophers: don't you dare. The Fidel "technique" is to find an hole, clear it open and set some weeds as bait. This is totally at odds with the theories of Macadamia Bruce, who insists on finding a "main road" and setting traps in both directions and never uses any weeds as bait. Now I have never seen Macadamia Bruce's captured gophers, but I have seen Fidel's. Fidel is in the Mexican version of the Guinness Book of World Records for his prowess, and he does it by setting a single trap at the end of a tunnel.

As I inspected Fidel's traps, it seemed to me that they were not set deeply inside the tunnels. Also, it seemed he had selected squirrel holes for two of the traps. What was worse, there was an area at the top of the hill in the Aglianico bloc with recent gopher markings and no trap set. So, I decided at that point to challenge Fidel. Novice vs. expert. Student vs. teacher. New world vs. Old World, to see who could catch Mr. Gopher. Bluey and I set our own trap and as it was getting dark called it quits and retired for the evening.

The next day (last Friday afternoon to be exact), Bluey and I went on patrol to inspect the traps. First, we visited Fidel's. Not only were there no gophers, there were no bites. Nada. Then, we checked the trap we had set, and there he was, Mr. pesky Gopher, deceased. What a way to begin the weekend! Fresh from our first round victory mano a mano against Senor Fidel we headed to our neighborhood Belle Marie Winery carrying bottles of Petit Verdot, Petit Verdot Plus and Petit-Petit wine for a little wine shoot out, after setting a couple of more gopher traps in other areas of the vineyard.

The next day, Bluey and I were out vineyarding and inspecting the traps and there were still no bites at Fidel's traps and we noticed that we had caught a gopher in the Grenache area from the trap we set the day before (that's two in two days and an auspicious continuing for a really good weekend). Just as Bluey was pulling on the chain to get the gopher out of the hole Coyote Karen called, offering us some brownies and mint-chocolate cake. Would we like any?

"Would you like us to come over and catch some gophers for you? Only $10/head!"

"How about a bottle of wine per gopher?" It's the new economic age of bartering.

"Deal."

The score after two rounds of the shoot-out: Gringo 2: Fidel 0. I reset the traps.

Bluey and I went out on patrol early this evening carrying a shovel which I used to strike at weeds along the way and we inspected Fidel's traps and there were still no gophers nor any bites. So I took out his traps and used the shovel to fill in the holes so the gophers would have to work if they tried to come back that way. Bluey went up ahead of me and took up position where I had set my last trap Sunday evening and by his stance I suspected that we had caught another one. Damn. 3 gophers in 3 days. I guess we had caught this one on Sunday and it was now Tuesday evening and he was a little gamy and Bluey had tugged on the chain pulling him out of the hole (good dog) without eating him (good dog). Now the Queen had gone to Japan on Friday carrying with her a case of the Blue-Merle's finest wine to find us a distributor and to host wine tastings in the Land of the Rising Sun as our wine is enjoyed from Texas to Oklahoma, from Connecticut to Japan, and since she was gone there hasn't been much to eat and I was thinking that a little gopher stew might be pretty good. But as this one was riper than road kill we threw it over the fence for the coyotes.

Thoughts were going through my head: 3 gophers in 3 days. America shuts out Mexico in Gopher Championships 3 - 0! Outlaw winemaker declared gopher champion in Blue-Merle Country. Boy, would the Queen be proud of me. And as I had these I heard voices of the Three Priests who warned me that perhaps I shouldn't be so proud. That perhaps the good, gracious Lord might just put a little rattlesnake in the next gopher hole I stuck my hand in, so with gracious, humble, humility in mind I walked down the Rue Jean Baptiste -- the road we had made straight and level in the hills -- with shovel in hand scraping weeds as I walked and there he was on the side of this main path feeling warm against a short concrete wall. What is it the experts say? What you think about most of the time comes true. I raised the shovel and made a positive identification of the tail before striking. The temperatures had climbed well above 70 degrees this afternoon, this almost first day of Spring and the rattlesnake had come out of hibernation. Bluey was a few steps away from me and I had been thinking of enrolling him in a rattlesnake avoidance class and used this opportunity to teach him about "bad" Mr. Snake and to "leave it" while allowing him to experience the scent from a safe distance.

I gave thanks for our blessings and in the manner of Disney's Country Bear Jamboree I sang a little country tune as I washed my device of self-defense:

"Blood on the shovel,
Blood on the sha-a-a-a-ovel...."

I looked at the the snake and remembered I was running out of food with the Queen being in Japan and thought that this would make a pretty good meal and it was fresh. In order not to offend our gentle readers I will simply state that I have been to China and I have eaten Chinese food and fried snake is good (and grandpa has eaten it too and even drunk the bile and has had a good long life) and if Ms. Connie from SouthTexas had been here she would have enjoyed it and I'll leave the rest of the story to your imagination.

Air Combat Against the Gophers: Installing The Owl Box

We selected the highest spot on the property, with a view of the vineyard below and snow capped mountains beyond, for "Hoot", the nickname the princess gave to our future pet, the barn owl.

Al Gore and I invented the LCD computer projector (1991).

Al Gore and I invented the earphone-mic for cellular phones (1997).

And now, "Owl" Gore and I have come up with a way to reduce the use of pesticides in the environment, by installing boxes for barn owls in the vineyard (2008).

"Lord, good Lord, send us an owl... Lord, oh Lord, send us an owl..." The gophers have been attacking and taunting us on several fronts, keeping me from seeing the movie "Caddie Shack."

Patrick Burke of Escondido, CA can sell you a pre-fabricated owl house for $49 -- folks, the materials alone would probably cost you that much. Call him at (760) 746-8454.

Gentle readers, you know by now that I have no ability whatsoever as a farmer or as a grower, so you will be pleased to know that for the first time in my life I'm really proud of myself: I was able to figure out a way to put that owl box 16' into the air all by myself, by nailing together two 8' left over end-posts (normally used for the vineyard trellis system). I nailed the box to the top of the pole, and the Princess helped me hoist it into position. Yes, mom, the box is still standing.

We are now waiting for THE OWL. The Princess calls him "Hoot." I may end up calling him Godot. Either way, he is Owl [gore the gophers!].

Installing Grow Tubes: Protect Your Vines From Rabbits & Other Chewy Critters

I came home from work and toured the top of the hill where we planted 30+ Aglianico vines six days ago, and noticed wooden stakes had been driven next to each baby plant and the obnoxious pink grow tubes were neatly in place. For the 2nd time in a week I was tempted to say "this is the first time in my life that I've been really proud of my wife." I was amazed at the transformation that had taken place while at the daytime job. (And reuse of the wooden stakes we used to stake-out the vineyard was economical, as we had run out of the thin metal stakes used to support the young vines.)

I went into the shed to pull out the weedwacker to hack away at some foxtails before dark and I was startled to see a baby r-a-b-b-i-t in the corner. I can't say the "R" word because if I do, Bluey will immediately shift gears into "sheep herding mode", come to full attention, and search everywhere for the "R." I wondered how in hell did the R get inside the shed? I poked around, found a hole in the side, and what appeared to be a den. Wouldn't surprise me to find it occupied by a rattlesnake in a week or so. I was wearing gloves, so picked up the baby "R", put him in a plastic pot, threw in a generous amount of hay and laid the pot down on its side next to the shed (where I noticed a hole going underground).

The "Rs" I don't mind so much; the grow tubes do a good job protecting the vines. (Suggestion: don't remove the tubes during the first year, no matter how ugly they are!) It's the gophers who are a problem -- the word sounds like "tappas" in Mexican, and I'm thinking I'd like to make a meal out of the gophers, who are making "tappas" out of our vines. Just got a call 5 minutes ago from Pat Burke, The Owl Man of San Diego, and he's got an owl box all wrapped up for me, which I'll pick up in the morning. We are choosing the "Owl" Gore method of rodent control, to save the environment by cuting down on the use of poisons. Stay tuned.

Yikes! Gophers! What to do?

It was the gophers who fired the first salvo, when they took down the new shoot of the remnant of a 25-year old kiwi that we were bringing back to life when we took over stewardship of the land. It was a miracle -- a kiwi farm that had been abandoned for over a dozen years, and finding a kiwi shoot that emerged from underneath the mysterious "Man In The Rock". We started watering it, and to protect it from the rabbits, the queen put a white laundry hamper over it. When she came back to water a few days later, the hamper was in place, but to her shock, no kiwi. Only a gopher could have done that. Up until then, my attitude with the gophers was live and let live. But for them to attack the rare -- and defenseless kiwi, this was war.

Until last Sunday, the score was 5 to 0, the gophers leading. In addition to the kiwi, they had taken out 3 Zinfandel cuttings from the top of the hill, another Zinfandel from the fence de Lum, and one Zinfandel in the main vineyard by Bobcat Ridge (named for the Bobcat who used to prowl there). The score is now 5 - 1. We're behind in the game, but determined to catch up, using conventional weapons. We like the owls and hawks in this area, not to mention the dogs, so poison is out. We're using the standard traps. In fact, with our allies the owl, the score is now 5-2, with the momentum swinging in our direction. Next stop: the "Squirelinator."

Dec. 31, 2007 -- The Squirelinator has not lived up to its name, and I have been taken in by a superlative salesman. However, Fidel is the "Gophinator" -- he caught 3 in one day by setting those traps. (His trophy hanging from the cross above.) By the way, those guinea-pig looking cute fellows are so destructive -- the offender above had his eyes -- and teeth -- on our young olive trees!