I Found My Muse in a Gopher: How I Learned Big Love Lessons from a Tiny Neighbor

They say inspiration strikes in the most unexpected places. For me, it came in the form of a gopher. Just your garden-variety rodent. A beady-eyed, grass-snatching menace that made its home in the field behind my house in Bozeman. But if you think I’m here to gush about how this little guy made me rethink pesticides or reconnect with nature—think again. This gopher taught me something entirely different. Something about relationships.

Stay with me here.

The Gopher Dilemma

A couple years back, I had just moved into a sun-worn cabin on the edge of a five-acre property, gifted the not-so-small privilege of minding it for family friends who were off tackling their midlife dreams of van life. The place was flanked by aspen thickets and rolling hills, ruggedly romantic in a way I didn’t fully appreciate at first. It was perfect, and honestly, I might have expected to live my best Walden Pond life—until the gophers showed up.

At first, it was just one. He’d pop his head up through a freshly dug mound, twitch his nose, and disappear. Fast-forward two weeks, and my yard looked like a minefield. Holes, dirt piles—utter chaos. I tried ignoring it. Then yelling at it. Then devising poorly constructed, guilt-ridden traps. All to no avail.

Every night, I’d grab a cold beer from the fridge, sit on the porch, and glare at him. He’d glare back. Sometimes, I’d swear he was smirking.

But then, as the weeks unfolded, I started noticing something strange. The way this little mammal worked so tirelessly at his underground empire, how he seemed uninterested in my indignation (but laser-focused on his weird tunnel-y goals). And somehow, that stubborn little gopher became the inspiration I didn’t know I needed.

Cue the epiphany: The gopher was just doing what gophers do—unapologetically himself. And that’s when it hit me—could I, too, be as authentic and single-minded in my relationships as this two-pound rodent living rent-free in my backyard?

Suddenly, I couldn’t stop drawing parallels.

Gopher Wisdom #1: Be True to Who You Are

Relationships are complicated enough without adding the pressure of pretending. For years, I’d been guilty of trying to shapeshift into someone more likeable, more palatable—someone who watched indie films unironically and could pull off using the word “pivot” in casual conversations about life goals.

This gopher, on the other hand, didn’t give two dirt mounds what I thought of him. He had zero plans to reinvent himself as an otter or one of those Instagrammable foxes. He showed up with his twitchy face and destructive tendencies, and that was it. Take it or leave it.

It’s brave, really, to be your unpolished, whole self in a world that worships curated perfection. And when it comes to love, it’s necessary. Pretending doesn’t get you real connections; it gets you someone who loves the version of you you’re faking. As for the people willing to fall for the you who occasionally eats pickles straight from the jar, sings 90s country ballads out of key, or wears sweatpants to the grocery store? Those people are gold.

So, lesson number one: Be gopher-level authentic. Unapologetic. A little weird, maybe. But honest.

Gopher Wisdom #2: Persistence Pays

It struck me somewhere between hole twenty-three and twenty-four that gophers might be the most persistent species on Earth. Every time I filled in a tunnel, he’d excavate another one. Block off one exit, and he’d carve out two more. It was almost admirable.

And in love? Persistence matters.

Now, let me clarify—I’m not talking about bad rom-com, hold-a-boombox-over-your-head-until-someone-notices-you persistence. (Let’s leave that kind of energy in 1989 where it belongs.) What I mean is sticking with something worthwhile, even when the process gets messy. Honest communication, clear boundaries, the willingness to work through problems instead of dodging them—that’s the kind of effort real love demands.

If this little gopher taught me anything about effort, it’s that you get out of relationships what you put into them. And sometimes, you’ll face obstacles (or people with shovels undoing what you’ve built). But with grit and the right priorities, you can dig your way through anything.

Gopher Wisdom #3: Know When to Let Go

Eventually, the gopher ghosted me. One evening, I realized there hadn’t been a fresh mound in weeks. I waited for days, pretending to be annoyed (but honestly a little sad). He’d clearly packed up his earthy paradise and moved on. And I weirdly respected that.

If there’s a single truism about relationships that’s harder to swallow than week-old coffee, it’s this: sometimes, you have to know when to let go.

Maybe it’s a relationship that isn’t bringing out the best in you anymore. Or a crush that’s one-sided and exhausting. Or even an internal dialogue telling you that you’re unworthy of love unless you check all the boxes society’s handed you. Whatever it is, there’s a time to dig tunnels and build connection—and a time to move on.

Gophers don’t overthink. They take the lessons of this field and carry them to the next.

As poet Mary Oliver asks in one of my favorite lines, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” And if the answer is clinging to something that’s no longer nourishing you, it might be time to untangle yourself.

Putting It All Together

I’ll be honest: I never did figure out where the gopher went. Maybe he decided his work in my yard was complete. (Or maybe my poorly maintained grass wasn’t worth his time anymore—fair.) But what he left behind was a surprising blueprint for approaching love and connection:

  • Be authentic even if it makes you vulnerable.
  • Invest in what matters and put in the work for the right reasons.
  • Know when to pivot—ditch what’s holding you back and make room for better.

Ultimately, relationships are kind of like gopher tunnels. They’re messy and unpredictable, but when built with purpose and care, they create the foundation for something safe and life-affirming. And whether you’re navigating the buzz of a new crush or the long haul of love, there’s wisdom to be found even in the smallest, weirdest moments—if you’re willing to notice them.

Who knew that a rogue rodent could be my most unexpected inspiration? Maybe inspiration’s been burrowing under your feet too—just waiting for you to see it.