I spotted a fine fat woodchuck yesterday and slowed down to watch her.  Unfortunately, she had already spotted me and was nervously making her way toward the den entrance.  The dirt pile marking her lair was only a few feet down the split rail fence, but she was in no rush to reach it.  Normally chucks race to their refuge at the slightest provocation. This one swaggered a bit and lashed her short hairy tail like a semaphore flag. With each step, the gesticulating tail action increased in intensity. 

  Three young chucks suddenly appeared out of the long grass and clustered about the den entrance. They turned briefly to assess the danger before diving into the comforting darkness.  Her pups secure, the matron ceased her tail flagging and followed them into the hole.

  A little further on, I came upon another family of woodchucks grazing in a field. This group was a good distance off, so I apparently posed no immediate threat. The large female sauntered about while her young directed their attentions to the tender greens at their feet. Upon reaching a small tree, she rose up on her hind legs and smelled a particular spot on the trunk. She then rubbed the bark with her chin and cheeks and dropped back to all four feet and continued on.  Later she gave the same rubbing treatment to a large rock above the den entrance.

  There is nothing remarkable about these two incidents but they do provide an opportunity for a bit of woodchuck chat. Chucks are an exceedingly wary bunch of mega-rodents and they don’t often “allow” you to watch them – it normally is the other way around. These sentinels usually spot danger long before it spots them.  The classic woodchuck sentinel pose, erect and upright on their haunches, is a well honed survival skill.  So, let’s take the opportunity while it presents itself.

  First of all, this is chucklet season – the time of year when you can spot the broods of little woodchucks (3-5 per pair) cavorting around their dens. Woodchucks have only one brood a year, and they grow up quickly (1 ½ months before weaning), so the opportunity is short. 

  The tail wagging, chin rubbing behavior can be explained by a brief look at the family album.  Woodchucks are squirrels, even though they’d prefer to keep it a secret.  Their squat badger like physique and short tail are features demanded by their burrowing lifestyle. Tree squirrels employ their bushy tails for balance and mood expression. A worried squirrel will lash its tail about as an expression of pure anxiety (kinda like nail biting). A worried mother chuck will do the same when concerned that her babies might be in danger.

  Tree squirrels can communicate through scent and have a variety of glands to deposit e-mails (excrement mail).  Squirrels rub their chins on branches to deposit oil and mark territory.  A rock rubbing chuck is performing the same ancient squirrel ritual.  According to a Cornell University website, woodchucks show affection for each other by rubbing cheeks “where their scent glands are located”. The chuck I observed was employing those very glands.

  Tree squirrels, of course, are also known for communicating through their constant chatter. The very name of the woodchuck comes from their propensity to engage in such squirrel talk.  Aside from the common name of Groundhog, settlers have long known the chuck as a “Whistlepig” due to its verbal barrages. In the Algonquin Indian tongue, the animal was originally named “Ot-chuck” in imitation of the call. Unable, or unwilling, to fully interpret the native name, settlers settled on “Wood-chuck” as the closest approximate pronunciation.  Unfortunately, this lazy European language thing has created a whole lot of misunderstanding over the years.

  Woodchucks are field dwellers and do not live in “the woods.” They are not made out of wood nor do they eat wood. As long as we are at it, they don’t know much about weather prediction either (The first woodchuck I spotted this year was wandering about over snow drifts on Jan. 18).

  All of this negative stuff doesn’t matter one wit to those smart folks over at Cornell.  According to their website, Cornell University hosts “the world’s only scientific source of disease free woodchucks.”  (Take a look at the article about their Woodchuck Farm here.) The scientists are attempting to unlock the secrets of groundhog chemistry.  It appears that these pristine chucks are providing insight into the treatment of Hepatitis B and Liver Cancer and might prove to be medical miracle mammals.

  As a side to their important work, the Cornell scientists have managed to come up with an answer to that age old chuck question.  You know the question, so I won’t repeat it here, but the answer is “about 700 lbs.”  Science marches on.