So, I heard about this idea, a “prairie dog golf course.” Sounded kinda quirky, you know? Something different from your usual manicured greens. I pictured a fun, rustic setup, maybe a bit wild. That got me thinking, and well, I decided to give it a whirl myself. Thought I’d document my little experiment here.
My Grand Plan (or so I thought)
I got myself a patch of land. Wasn’t massive, but it had potential, or so I figured. It even had a few prairie dog mounds already, which I thought was a bonus! Save me the trouble of attracting them, right? My vision was a sort of pay-and-play place, real casual. Folks could come, have a laugh, and enjoy a unique round of golf where the prairie dogs were part of the scenery. I even thought about naming it “The Dog Leg,” or something equally clever. Ha!
First thing I did was try to clear some basic fairways. Just paths, really. Used a sturdy old mower and a lot of elbow grease. Got a few cheap clubs and some brightly colored balls, thinking they’d be easy to spot. I was feeling pretty good about it, imagining folks lining up.
Then the actual “prairie dog” part of the “prairie dog golf course” kicked in.
These little critters, cute as they are from a distance, had their own plans for my land. And their plans did not involve golf. Not one bit. I’d spend a day smoothing out a small patch for a ‘green,’ and the next morning, it’d be riddled with new holes. Not golf holes. Their holes.
- I tried to make the existing mounds into features. Like, natural hazards.
- They’d just excavate new tunnels right where I’d put a flag.
- And the balls? Oh boy. Those bright colors didn’t help much when they vanished down a fresh burrow.
I thought, okay, maybe I can work with them. I tried leaving food away from the playing areas. They ate the food, then went right back to renovating my ‘course.’ Building a driving range was out of the question; it would’ve been a ball-donation station for the underground network.
The Reality Check
This wasn’t like some fancy resort-backed project, you know? There was no team of groundskeepers, no big budget. It was just me, a few tools, and an increasingly defiant colony of prairie dogs. They were the true owners and landscapers here. My little dream of a laid-back golf spot was turning into a daily battle against very determined, furry engineers.
I remember one morning, I went out there, and they’d actually buried one of my flags. Just the very tip was sticking out of a fresh mound of dirt. It felt like they were sending a message. A pretty clear one, too.
So, after a few weeks of this, mostly digging my balls out of tunnels and trying to patch up unwanted earthworks, I had to admit defeat. The prairie dogs won. Hands down. My ‘course’ looked more like a WWI battlefield than a place for leisurely sport.
What did I end up with? A lot of exercise, a new appreciation for prairie dog determination, and definitely no golf course. Learned that some ideas are fun to think about, but the practical side, well, that’s a whole other ball game. Or in this case, no ball game at all. So much for my “prairie dog golf course” empire. Just another practice run that didn’t quite make it to prime time.
