When I wandered into the Three Brothers Barbecue last Thursday, I had not seen Woodrow Stretcher since his retirement as metal detector operator at the capitol. It looked as if arguing with all the legislators had taken its toll. His voice was shaky and agitated.  According to Stretcher, officials and legislators at the state capitol complained every day about not being able to take their firearms into the legislature. “All those lawyers and real estate agents in the House of Representatives got real nasty about having their guns taken away-even if it was just for a few hours a day. They got real sore at me personally,” Stretcher once told me.

Oh, you may not remember Woodrow Stretcher from Mt. Pariah, Georgia. Let me remind the gentle reader that Stretcher is locally known as a UFO enthusiast who is convinced that dogs are descendants of the aliens who came to Earth thousands of years ago to show the Egyptians how to build the pyramids. Since I had heard this story before, I hoped Stretcher would not notice me. Thankfully, he was holding forth with a bunch of guys in the corner family booth. All seven of them were wearing camo like a war was about to break out.  I sat down with my back toward them, with one ear cocked in their direction. Waiting for my baked beans, slaw and pulled pork to arrive, this is what I heard: Stretcher’s Lincoln Circumnavigator SUV was swallowed up into the earth.

“I went down into the bottoms to check on those Paw Paws I planted years ago, and darned if I didn’t just drive headfirst into a hole so deep I couldn’t see daylight. I had to crawl over the three rows of seats and climb out the tailgate. What the—? As I was climbing out I could hear a kind of chattering sound back toward the creek, like -I don’t know-a big squirrel rattlin’ around in the bushes. I just got a glimpse of whatever it was, kind of big and furry and grey with a sort of orange rooster comb on top.” The ballcaps of his audience were bobbing with interest.

“My shotgun was strapped to the back of my driver’s seat but there was no way I could get it. I mean I was scared. Then this thing crossed the clearing on the other side of the creek and I could see it plain as day. It was a groundhog as big as a grown sow. I had fallen into his tunnel. I can tell you I was scared. That dang thing must have weighed eighty pounds.”

As I settled back to enjoy my barbecue, Stretcher described how he had started looking up stuff on the internet about groundhogs. And it started to come back to him. “That’s what all those little critters are that stand along the roadside, like they were thinking of stepping out on the road, suicide like. Solemn -like, lookouts staring straight ahead. According to the Institute of Groundhog Studies at Satilla River State University, they are only supposed to weigh about five to ten pounds-but this one was at least 80 pounds-maybe more.”

Here it comes, I thought. The plan to kill or capture this horrible creature.

“This scientist on the internet says the males live alone and hibernate during the winter. They have burrows with different rooms for sleeping and going to the bathroom. (Stretcher gets very polite in his language when he talks science,) The ones along the roads are out sniffin’ for lady friends. (Editor’s note: a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.)

“I put out a camera to see if I could get him on video. Nothing. I dug up his warren with my backhoe. There were rooms under the earth where he lived big enough for a family. Oh, he even had a bathroom-the smell was terrible. I bought a Mossberg Chuckster 22 Magnum with a scope like they shoot prairie dogs with out west. Heck, I was ready. Never got a glimpse of him, like he had moved out.

“Martha (Stretcher’s former mother-in-law and current wife) started complainin’ that I was spending all my time in the woods when the floors in the house were saggin’ and needed my attention. That’s when I saw this TV report where a family had been trying to root out a groundhog from under their house. Seems their house was an old one built on brick pillars.  Finally, the added- on bathroom fell in and then the front porch collapsed. They had to move out. I can tell you this got to me, especially since the one I had seen was big enough to take out a Walmart.”

Foregoing the hand-made ice cream I usually had for dessert, I eased on up to the cash register, trying not to attract Stretcher’s attention. As I left, he was describing how he dug a deep ditch around his house with his backhoe (he loves his backhoe) and buried a chain link fence all around his house to keep the ground hogs out.

On the way home I almost ran off the road. Not a mile from the restaurant, and closer to Woodrow’s hobby farm, a groundhog was keeping watch on that little stretch of road where the guys running for insurance commissioner or secretary of state tack up their campaign signs. Oh, I was used to seeing those statue-like groundhogs standing beside the road, but this one was holding a small shovel and sporting a red-ish top knot. It must have been my imagination. I was hallucinating from too much hot barbecue sauce.