Oh my, reality whack-a-mole.  Poor little gopher, I don't blame him
for not coming out. ;)

Theresa
My Blog: http://www.humanitas.blogspot.com
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Again, I am reminded of this event from Frank's first summer on the island.
I'm lazy, so I googled for the last time I wrote it and here it is, from
January 2001 on rpca. Many of you will know the story. I wish I'd had a
camera, too.

"This reminds me of Frank's first summer at the cottage. His father and
sister were also there. Nikki hadn't been born yet. She would never have let
Frank make such a fool of himself!

Near our cottage is a little knell where there are always lots of mole
holes. One day, Frank's father and sister were sitting patiently by the
knell, each staring at a hole. They could probably hear some movement in
there. They sat for ages, biding their time, waiting for the little steak to
appear.

Along comes Frank. Six months old and full of cattitude. Or at least, full
of bounce. Think "Tigger" in Winnie-the Pooh, and you get the picture.

Frank bounces along to the knell, where his father and sister are still
sitting quietly, patiently, waiting. Frank says, "what's going on?", plops
down on the ground and sticks one paw into one hole, and another into
another one, and digs around frantically.

His sister and father look at him with an expression of pure horror, soon
changing into utter contempt. "What in Bast's name do you think you are
*doing*? Are you a complete moron or are you a complete moron? You do not
spoil *hours* of hard watching by stomping in and scaring off every single
mole on the island!"

By that time, the moles were probably on the other side of the island,
laughing their heads off."

That is soooo cute. I think they can hear the gopher moving around underground.
There's no better display of patience than Frank sitting on top of a gopher
hole. He'll sit there for hours. I peeked out once and he was sound asleep on
his side, on the gopher mound.
Sherry