PESTS AND PETS
The pocket gopher is an herbivorous animal which attains approximately the size of a gray squirrel. It has a sleek, grey-brown coat of fur which is almost as fine as that of the mole and would, I think, make a good quality fur except that the skin is too tender to stand either sewing or the wear that fur coats have to undergo. I learned this by trapping them and having a furrier try them out, as I knew that the quickest way to get rid of a pest is to eat it or use its hide. Since I found its hide to be of no practical value, I enjoined my troop of Boy Scouts, a willing group of boys, to carry out my suggestions that they skin and prepare one of these animals in a stew. Gophers are purely herbivorous and I thought they should be quite edible, but as I am a strict vegetarian myself, I had to depend on them to make this experiment. The boys followed instructions up to the point of cooking, but by that time the appearance of the animal had so deprived them of their enthusiasm and appetites that I had no heart to urge them to continue. I am still of the opinion, however, that to meat-eating people, the pocket gopher would taste as good as squirrel or pigeon.
The first introduction I had to the devastating work that these animals can do in an orchard was when I was working among my young apple and plum trees one spring. I noticed that the foliage was turning yellow on many of them and upon investigation I found that the trees were very loose in the ground. At first I thought that planting operations and heaving of the ground by frost in the spring might be the cause, but in testing the looseness of one of these trees, I found that I could pull it out of the ground easily. There I saw what appeared to be the marks of an axe. I was completely convinced that I had personal enemies who went around nights chopping off the roots of my trees, for I knew that most of my neighbors were completely out of sympathy with my tree cultivation. In fact, farmers living in that section of the country were always poking fun at my nut tree plantings and orchard work, for their idea of what was proper on a farm was a treeless field of plowed ground. As I thought of all these things, I pulled up many other trees; in fact, there were dozens that were chopped off so that they could be completely pulled out. Others still had one or two roots clinging to the main trunk and these I carefully replanted so that they would continue to live and grow.
Not long after the tragic day on which I found all these ravaged trees, I noticed, winding in and out close to the young orchard trees, the mounds which pocket gophers make when they tunnel under the ground. I followed some of these by digging into them with a shovel, and discovered that they led to the roots of trees, the very trees that had been chopped off and killed. My enemies were not human after all.
Sending for a pamphlet from the U. S. Department of Agriculture, I studied the material given about pocket gophers and their habits. I then began their systematic eradication, using about twelve steel muskrat traps. I succeeded in trapping, in one season, over thirty of them, at a time when they were so prolific and their holes so numerous that I could not drive a horse through the orchard without danger of breaking one of its legs. I also used poisoned grains and gases but I do not recommend them. Trapping is the only method in which one obtains actual evidence of elimination. It took me many years to force the gophers out of my orchards and I still must set traps every fall, during September and October when they are most active. Their habits are such that they do most of their tunnelling in the early fall months, before frost, during which time they expose and isolate the roots on which they intend to feed during the winter months when the ground is so hard that they cannot burrow further. This period is when they are most easily trapped.
It was with the idea of establishing a balance of nature against these animals that I conceived the idea of importing bull snakes. Almost everyone has heard of the bull snake, but its name is a poor one, for it has the wrong connotation. These snakes are actually a fine friend to the farmer since each snake accounts for the death of many rodents each year. Their presence certainly was of definite value in decreasing the number at my farm. Bull snakes have the long body typical of constrictors, sometimes reaching a length of nearly six feet at maturity, and being at the most an inch and one-half in diameter. This country had a natural abundance of such snakes at one time but ignorance and superstition have lessened their number so that it is now a rare thing to find one. During the early days of automobiles, these huge bull snakes, or gopher snakes, as I prefer to call them, would lie across the sunny, dusty roads, and drivers of cars delighted in running them down. Since they are very docile, they are the least afraid of man of any members of the local snake family. They are slow in movement until they sense the immediate presence of their natural food, which is live mice, rats, gophers, squirrels, young rabbits, and sometimes, though rarely, birds. Then it is they become alert, and the horny appendage on their tails vibrates with a high-pitched, buzzing sound, simulating, although not similar to, the sound of a poisonous rattlesnake.
When I first brought some of these snakes to my farm, I loosed them and they wandered off to a neighbor's premises where they were promptly found and killed. Later importations I confined to my basement, where I built an artificial pool with frogs and fish in it. However, I could never induce the bull snakes to eat any of these batrachians. They would, almost playfully, stalk the frogs, but at the moment when one was within reach, the snake would glide away. Neither would the snakes, unless force-fed, eat anything they had not caught themselves.
My children were delighted to have the snakes there and made pets of them. Only once was one of the girls bitten when she attempted force-feeding. The bite was a mere scratch but we feared that it might be slightly poisonous. However, it healed so promptly that it was quite apparent that the bull snake's bite is not toxic. I, too, have had my skin slightly punctured by their teeth, but always the wound healed with no more pain or trouble than a pin prick. Such is not at all the case when a person is nipped by a squirrel or gopher. I have purposely allowed a pocket gopher to bite me, to determine what the effects are. The pain was severe and healing was slow. Once, bitten by a gray squirrel when I reached into a hollow tree to get it, I received such a wound that fever started in my whole hand. Its teeth punctured a finger-nail and were stopped only by meeting the bone. Such bites I consider rather poisonous.
Rabbits also committed much damage at my nursery by gnawing the bark of my trees, especially during times of deep snow. They did not bother the walnuts particularly, but were very fond of hickories and pecan trees. On the smallest ones, they cut branches off and carried them away to their nests. On larger trees, they gnawed the bark off of most of the lower branches. This was dangerous but seldom fatal, whereas the gnawing of mice, near the base of the trunks, was such that in some cases when complete girdling occurred, it was necessary to use bridge-grafting to save the trees. This consists of connecting the bark immediately above the roots with the bark above the girdled portion, so that the tree can receive and send the food substances it elaborates to its upper and lower parts.
Rabbits and mice, therefore, had to be dealt with. Of course, one could go hunting for rabbits and later eat them. This was one task I had my employees do. I, myself, was unwilling to take an active part in it, although still intent on saving my trees in spite of my pity for the little animals. Placing hundreds of cans in the orchard, with a pinch of poisoned wheat and oat mixture in each, helped to eradicate the mice. The bait was placed inside the cans to prevent birds from being poisoned, and the cans were tipped at an angle so that water would not enter them.