GROUNDHOG - WOOD CHUCK POTPOURI

When we bought our old hunting lodge at Hartford Beach on Big Stone Lake in South Dakota, we really didn't realize what a unique place it was until we had lived there a few summers. In that time we discovered some very neat perks. For one, the lodge was located right on the edge of state park land, so all the land to the south of us was undeveloped except for the gravel trail that led up to the Indian burial mounds and the the bluff they used to run bison off to collect winter meat. Thirty yards below our place was Lathan West's home and just below that was the resort cafe and storestore as well as a dozen or so cabins. And just below the store was the big boat dock, beach and other amenities. 

Our lodge itself had quite a history. It was over a hundred years old and was, in the early days, the main lodge for the whole area out of which the resort was operated. It was a big, rambling two-story dwelling with ceiling beams and window frames carved out with band saws and chain saws. It had twenty-two casement windows, a huge pot-bellied stove and the upstairs was unfinished with five double beds separated by drapes for privacy. We awoke every morning to woodpeckers and wild turkeys hammering and gobbling and went to sleep to the lovely music of whippoorwills and tree frogs. Oh yes, it was also once the hunting hangout for governor Carl Mundt and other notables.

Just to our east was an RV park and just beyond that, the home-made abode of some hippies from San Francisco. We would later discover that that house was specifically designed for green-house gardening---a potting place for potted plants. And they put in their plumbing last. Not too smart!

And more to the point of this piece, we not only had indoor plumbing, but a magnificent double- barreled, set-in- concrete outhouse, complete with a half-moon carved into its door. A few feet to the west was the under-ground dwelling of a year-round resident; a ground hog, or if you will, a wood chuck. Same critter. I only saw it once, he looked a little bit like Bill Murray.

Our out-house, unfortunately, sat with his back to that gravel trail mentioned earlier, so it was often visited by outsiders, either hikers or other undesirables. And though my family, except for me, who grew on a farm with one, never used it, some-how, mysteriously, our biffy began to fill up. And, since we were considering selling the place we wondered if we could ever get it cleaned out. All the poop-scoopers had long since quit that business. But here's the amazing miracle that took place with our out-house:

Whenever we closed up for the winter, we always performed a little pass-over ceremony to protect the place from invaders—we would plead the blood of Jesus over all four corners of the lot and over the door posts and beams- and this time, even over the outhouse door. If you saw “The Ten Commandments” or read about the first passover in Exodus, the children of Israel painted the door posts with lamb's blood so that the death angel would “pass over” and not kill their first-born. We didn't use actual lamb's blood for our place; we just spoke, “the blood of Jesus” and touched the places.

But here is what we found when we opened up the lodge the following spring: checking the outhouse, I discovered that both holes were filled to the top with pure, white sand. I got a big bucket and a hand scoop and removed bucket after bucket of white sand and found not a trace of the previous contents. But around the wood-chuck's den, other traces of white sand could be seen. Not only had the bad angel passed over our lodge, but a good angel, Woody or Chuckie or both had totally chucked out our biffy. I don't even want to imagine what they did with with the original contents.

As to who the perps were who were responsible for filling up my place of meditation, I strongly suspect the hippies. But I have no proof. However, they were arrested on their way back to San Francisco with over 200 'pot' plants. It turns out the ATF people were occupying one of the RV's and had been watching them all Summer. Neither have been back since. And let me stress this: This account is absolutely true. And the Blood, we later discovered, will also divert tornadoes.

Gene Pinkney – 2/10//20 - For The Daily News