Good Morning, Marmot

On my way to work in the mornings I pass by what I think must truly be one of the ugliest corners in North St. Louis County. A swath of brown, weedy grass to the right of the highway exit runs up to a rusted chain link fence. Beyond that is a patchy parking lot in front of a singularly unattractive building supply warehouse. Beyond that? A Waffle House, a Super 8 Motel, and some other unfortunate NoTell Motel.

The fact is, though, this particular ugly is more than the sum of its parts. Ever been to a crummy dive saloon and see some drunk dude down at the end of the bar with a bad case of summer teeth and B.O. who insists on telling unsuspecting neighbors his sad fucking life story; a story made all the more sad by the fact that all of his problems were largely of his own making? This street corner is that guy.

Or, it was. A few weeks ago I noticed some creature standing in the patch of grass. At first I thought perhaps I was seeing things and that it was time to stop drinking cheap gin, but no. My mom takes that same exit to get to work, and she had seen it, too. We even saw it together when we carpooled for a week.

I have seen him several times. Generally, the wee brown beastie stands majestically, if squatly, with his back turned dismissively on traffic. Instead, he surveys his vast domain—the weedy patch of grass—with a proprietary air. He is, it seems, busy. He cannot be bothered with us stupid humans and our stupid cars. He has all this ground that needs looking after.

After several days of wild and fruitless speculation as to the nature of the beastie (“Is it a beaver?” “It can’t be a beaver, can it?” “What do I know from beavers?”), it was finally determined that this particular critter is a groundhog. We think.

You know what, though? I don’t even care. On the mornings when I exit the highway and I see the fat little thing hanging out in the weed patch, it completely makes my morning. More even then coffee. Today was exceptional, as there was not one but TWO groundhogs doing that which groundhogs do. One was ignoring traffic, while its little friend waddled about in the background hunting for food or breaking in new shoes or whatever it is groundhogs do in the morning.

Good morning, marmot. It’s going to be a good day.