While I am grateful that your cousins Willie and Sam were so kind as to bear good news of an early spring this year, I am not so impressed by your constant presence in my back yard. Yes, I found it amusing to watch you sitting atop my mulberry tree last year and then gasped in shock as you plopped onto the ground, unharmed. I laughed to myself thinking you were suffering from an identity crisis and couldn't decide whether you were a groundhog or a treehog.

My children enjoyed getting a close look at one of the few animals after which a holiday is named. It was the next best thing to owning a dog. Only dogs aren't as self-sufficient as you are. Oh, no. You, my dear, have made good haste in settling into the neighbourhood and seeking out sustenance by raiding the neighbour's yard. And our own. This is why I have a berry to pick with you. Mr. Groundhog, kindly refrain from eating anymore berries off of my mulberry tree!

And while you're at it, please abstain from devouring my neighbour's flowers. The remnants of your feast are rather unsightly, I must say. Why can't you just eat the weeds that are taking over what used to be our vegetable garden? Unlike my lawn, they are green and vibrant. A succulent dish of cicoria also awaits you.

Yours in kind,