Not without reason.

Each woodchuck hole in the field was a menace to the horses' legs.

Tradition, at least, said that horses' legs and riders' necks had been broken by the steed setting foot in one of these dangerous pitfalls: besides which, each chuck den was the hub centre of an area of desolation whenever located, as mostly it was, in the cultivated fields.

Undoubtedly the damage was greatly exaggerated, but the farmers generally agreed that the woodchuck was a pest.
Whatever resentment the tiller of the soil might feel against the Indian's hunting quail on his land, he always welcomed him as a killer of woodchucks.
And the Indian looked on this animal as fair game and most excellent eating.
Rolf watched eagerly when Quonab, taking his bow and arrows, said they were going out for a meat hunt.

Although there were several fields with woodchucks resident, they passed cautiously from one to another, scanning the green expanse for the dark-brown spots that meant woodchucks out foraging.