Hot Enough to Fry a Groundhog?

So imagine my surprise: I go out the back door, turn to go down the basement steps on my way to check my laundry -- and there he is. Chuckie. Splayed out on the cool of the basement steps my resident woodchuck refused to yield his position.
I actually had to find a long stick, go around the outside edge and poke him in the hind end before he reluctantly moved. (After I took photos, of course.)

The really disturbing part? A second groundhog was spotted munching in the orchard at the same time. One groundhog might be tolerated -- it's hot, the gardens not doing that much to worry about protecting it from a nibble here and there, and I wasn't really feeling all that up to groundhog transportation right now. But two groundhogs means a breeding pair, means baby marmota, means it's time to set the trap after all.

There and Back Again

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

- JRR Tolkien