“Do you have a portable radio?”

Although Bill Murray was featured on SNL, he truly became part of the public consciousness as Carl Spackler, obsessed with killing gophers in “Caddyshack.”

We didn’t have gophers in Connecticut. We’ve got mosquitoes and the occasional deer, no real bears, but we don’t have varmints. If they ever existed on the eastern seaboard, they were rooted out eons ago, by civilization. So I just didn’t understand Spackler’s mania. I thought the gophers were an artistic device.

Then they invaded Felice’s backyard.

I used to think man could triumph over wildlife. That real property and grass would last forever.

Boy was I dreaming.

You see the occasional deer in the hills. And coyote in the street. And just recently, a mountain lion crossed the freeway and is now loose in Griffith Park. But the real enemy is the gophers. Don’t mess with the gophers, you cannot win. You think you’ve got a pristine backyard and then you wake up one day to find a slew of holes, as if tiny children got out with their plastic shovels and pails and started to dig. So you fill up these hollows, lament the brown space, and then you wake up the next day and you find out they’re digging somewhere else. And then you realize the holes are literally the tip of the iceberg. That under your lawn is a whole city, a network of tunnels, wherein these varmints are playing, mating and working. And there’s nothing you can do about it!

Until we went to Sonoma and saw this acre of lush land in the backyard of Brodey’s buddies. What about the gophers?

GOPHER WIRE!

Yes, if you’re willing to rip up your entire lawn, and lay down an ocean of rebar, you can plant once again and have a pristine yard. It works. The gophers cannot break through the iron. They go somewhere else. The fringe of your property, your next door neighbor’s lawn, and you feel a bit guilty but you’ve solved the problem, you have peace of mind.

So this is what Felice did. Rip up her entire backyard, lay down a net of metal and then plant once again. And it worked!

Until the raccoon.

The obsession returned.

Right before my very eyes, Felice was turning into Carl Spackler. I humored her with the gophers. I could handle the holes, I grew up where a nice lawn was nigh near impossible. But when Rocky appeared and pissed on the porch, Felice started to steam.

Oh, he made an appearance on the patio first. The squeal was so intense, I thought the Manson family had returned to the hills. And following the sound to the window I caught a glimpse of this animal and thanked god I was on the other side of the glass. Raccoons are big and spiky and scary. If I were outside, I’d run in the other direction.

And only in the movies are gophers cute.

But raccoons are on a whole ‘nother level.

So Felice hit Google. She poured cayenne pepper all over the walkway. Bleach too. Coming into the front door was like navigating a war zone. The raccoon went to topic number one of discussion. What could be done?

I didn’t have a portable radio. Which switched to a news station Felice read would scare away the raccoon. My dad must have owned twenty. That was one of his hobbies, buying transistors. But that was decades ago and today everybody listens on headphones, does Apple make earbuds that fit a raccoon?

I couldn’t help her.

So every night she prepares for battle. It’s Google versus nature. She’s collecting tips. Trying new strategies. I expect Norman Schwarzkopf to make an appearance any minute.

It’s us versus them.

And they’re winning!