Norbert
Norbert is engrossed in various closing ceremonies. By now, Noah and I are pretty conversant in the ways of the whistle pig. We may sight our Norbert one final time in early October, before hibernation takes him from our backyard setting (and our conversation) for the next five months to come.
Though we use groundhog and whistle pig interchangeably, whistle pig has a snappiness to it. Noah has set off the critters’ high-alert whistle on more than one occasion, and he has deemed it an impressive output.
We do not preside over any vegetable garden, so groundhogs, for us, are not varmints. They are a charming cast that fills our trail cam footage with no end of unbridled clover consumption and mouse-bear poses.
With scenes of Norbert — perhaps sensing that the fox is afoot — zig-zagging his way back to home base, his rolls of fat wobbling.
According to my backyard nature notes, Norbert’s return to the daily circuit next year will closely correspond with the spring equinox. But he’s getting up there in years. This could be the year that our plucky old fellow expires.
We will trust that the grand architectural feat that is his burrow will be taken over by another whistle pig, whom we will also call Norbert.
And we will watch for the early summer debut of the new batch of chucklings, four to six of them, equal parts plump and jaunty.
This backyard runs on a very whistle-piggian calendar, for Noah and me.
