Hmmm… Dad's Poetic Offerings… Of Daisies 'n' Woodchucks

Dad was my hero, and although gone from this earthly place for thirty-eight years, still he touches my daily life. Yes, he was a loving husband and father. A great provider. A terrific carpenter, an avid and knowledgable reader, a super story-teller, an excellent chef, a superior gardener. An honorable and honest human being. A rock with a terrific sense of humor. A poet, however, he was NOT! And herein lies a connection of sorts. Mom's name and a backyard pest poetically united. Really...

Bernadette at the (link) PILOT wrote a super-duper column about nicknames. Her mention of Nicholas and Marguerite especially caught my attention...

My parents opted for Nicki over longer versions such as Nicolette or Nicole. I was named a nickname, after my maternal G'pa, Nicholas. Yes, Bernie :-) cited the traditional nickname as Nicky, albeit spelled differently. But… is it short enough? I'm Nick to those closest to me. Gotta love it. I do.

Moving on to Margaret and Marguerite. Who knew Daisy sometimes replaces Margaret, because Margaret is a derivative of Marguerite, which is French for… yep… a daisy. So, my beautiful Italian Mom had a French name. Not to worry. Though she loved flowers of all varieties, her nickname was Marge. Harsh-sounding by comparison to Marguerite, but you know - three syllables can be tough for everyday usage (inside humor for Bernie). I digress. Back to Dad and his poetic attempts. For Mom, just a teenager when they met, he wrote a ditty. Something special. Ahem…

Marguerite, go wash your feet

The Board of Health is across the street…

Ain't she neat, ain't she sweet

But smell the stink of her dirty feet.

Hey, be nice. I warned you! Enter the woodchuck.

We've always chased the big rats 'cause they've a tendency to nest under our pool shed. I've noticed the shed tilting, over the last few years, but have never made the connection, till now…

A burrowing ten-pounder has invaded our yard, getting by two fencing systems. A Google search tells me that this architectural tendency can cause the weakening and collapse of small structures. In sharing the info with Bri, it turns out that his shed is suffering the loss of a pier on one corner, causing its partial fall. Yep. He had nesters of his own. Don't ask…

As if this isn't enough, there's quite an arched entranceway gnawed into our shed. Did you know that these rodents possess teeth that never stop growing? Instead, they need to file them down, daily, so any available wood becomes their grinder… bringing me to more of Dad's poetry, this time borrowed-from-an-unknown author...

How much wood would a woodchuck chuck

If a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Okay, okay, it's not Frost. However, it addresses the problem of what will soon reproduce to five destructive monsters. The problem is, trapping and transporting these pests is not allowed by the DEC. Illegal. Seems the department is not interested in our falling shed and doesn't want the problem added to more significant conservation issues. What to do…

You don't want to know. Great White Hunter is pissed at the prospect of fixing the shed. Oh, and did I mention the woodchuck's vegan diet? There won't be a daisy left, if…

Well, as Dad would rhyme, "This guy is cruisin' for a bruisin'."