Dancing With Woodchucks

Won Over By Reality

by Tim Bayer

Back, by popular demand, Tim’s 2010 “Woodchuck Column.”

WEBSTER NY—(Weekly Hubris)—8/8/11—For those of you way, way off the grid, there is a TV show called “Dancing With the Stars.” Participants meet their “dancing partners” in advance, then practice for weeks before performing, live, on-camera. But I’ve got a much better story-line than they do: I’ve danced with a woodchuck.

I had not previously met my partner before our dance, and there was no time for practice before our performance. The difficulty factor was increased, as well, because we were not dancing in a safe, climate-controlled, wooden-floored studio. Instead, we faced off in the middle of a lane on the Rt. 490 expressway, with traffic whizzing by us at close to 70 mph. And only one of us was in costume, so to speak.

It all happened on my way to work one morning.

I was driving in the right lane on Rt. 490 near Bushnell’s Basin when I saw something odd in the road a half mile ahead of me; “something” odd weaving back and forth in the middle of the lane.

As I approached, I could see that it was an animal, moving in circles. What was odd(er) was that half the critter’s body appeared to be red and white. As I drove closer, I saw that it was a juvenile woodchuck, and the reason it presented a red-and-white aspect (and was walking in circles) was that it had a paper Coca-Cola cup wedged onto its head.

Ah: the young of all species will do silly things.

It was just not possible for me to drive on by and let this little apparition get flattened by a car behind me. So, with no hesitation, I pulled into the left to pass the woodchuck and then onto the shoulder on the right side of the road. Now, I had to get back to the animal, fast, before someone behind me whacked it. I quickly braked, then backed to within 10 feet of the constantly circling young chuck.

When I left my car, I reached for my cell phone, figuring I’d just take a quick picture of the situation. The sound of a car zipping past us both at 70 just one lane over re-focused my attention instantaneously. This was definitely not going to be a photo op. Besides, statistics indicate that using a cell phone on the expressway is dangerous, and that’s before factoring in a hat-wearing woodchuck.

I decided it was best to abandon any collateral thoughts of Youtube, and thereby limit the number of stupid things I would do on any given expressway this particular morning to just one: a woodchuck rescue.

As I approached the animal, a car came up fast in the right lane, about a quarter of a mile off. I stood just inside the white line on the roadway shoulder near the circling woodchuck, and the driver (wisely) moved into the left lane to avoid us both.

So, here’s the scene: it’s 9:00 a.m. on Rt. 490. A juvenile woodchuck has a paper Coca-Cola cup stuck on its head and is near the middle of the right lane, walking backwards, in circles. I am between the woodchuck and the left lane, where cars are careering just past my back.

I am 1) paying attention to the traffic so that I won’t end up headlined in tomorrow’s paper as Stupid Webster Man Killed Rescuing Varmint and, at the same time, 2) keeping the woodchuck in front of me so it doesn’t mosey into the passing lane.

The best outcome I could envision was that, tomorrow, both I and the little chuck would still be relatively anonymous, both hatless, and each with the God-given opportunity to do more stupid things on yet another day.

I stood in the lane eyeing first the traffic, then the woodchuck, with Plan A being to pull the paper cup off the chuck’s head. Plan B was in the woodchuck’s paws, entirely, but I hoped that, after seeing me, he/she would zip off the expressway in the opposite direction and into the safety of the weeds.

That was my plan as far as it went. Note well, though: there is no mention of dancing in the plan.

I reached down and pulled off the cup. But (and there’s always a but), instead of turning and running from me, as per Plan B, the woodchuck staggered only one step to the left.

Immediately, I matched its move to keep the animal from rushing into the passing lane, aka jaws of death. But (that but, again), the animal simply focused woozily on the big human feet in front of it, and stopped; then looked up at me and leaned to its left side. (It’s dizzy! I thought. Dizzy from all that backwards circling!) The woodchuck was looking at me, then, leaning to one side, and so dizzy that it couldn’t walk!

Perfect. Dancing on the expressway with a dizzy woodchuck was definitely NOT part of my plan, A, B or C.

The chuck, ten inches from my feet, staggered a bit to the right. I immediately followed its lead and headed it off at the pass.

The danger factor of the dance was still in play as there were cars (lots) merrily zipping behind me. I kept looking from the chuck to oncoming traffic to make sure no car was in “the dancing lane” (every expressway should have one) . . .

. . . as the dancing continued, the woodchuck moving to the left and being cut off, yet again, by me. This time though, it moved a little away from me and towards the edge of the road. I closed the gap and we again squared off, dos-i-do.

The dancing partners had run up only about 30 seconds on the clock by this time but, on an active expressway, it seemed like an eternity to one of us.

Still, the woodchuck wasn’t staggering quite so much now, as its dizziness had begun wearing off (Halleluiah).

After yet another, surer move to one side by my furry partner, with me following its lead, cutting it off and closing the gap, it again retreated—this time to the shoulder side of the white line on the edge of the road. We were making progress!

I was now about three feet from the animal, which was staring at me intently. After a few seconds more, mind apparently made up, it turned to the left and started moving again; this time, more sure footed. It began walking a straight line, even bounding a bit. As it moved, I mirrored its steps, occasionally edging inside the three-foot gap between us; herding the chuck off the pavement and into the weeds.

Ah, sweet success! Another civilization-baffled varmint had escaped destruction, and I got back into my car entirely convinced it was a great good thing to have danced on the roadway of life with a dizzy woodchuck.

(Woodchuck photo by April King)