On a lonesome alfalfa field in the shadow of the San Juan Mountains, a little brown head pops up and swivels like a periscope in its hole.

Not far away, Gay Balfour squints hard in the midday sun. "That's it!" he exclaims, leaping into his boxy truck and gunning it down the field. The head swiftly disappears.

Balfour maneuvers the tank-like vehicle around the burrow, unhooks a large vacuum hose and jams it into the hole. He fiddles with a few knobs and gauges, then pushes a button. The truck roars, spewing smoke and dirt into the sky.

"Probably dug to China by now!" Balfour yells over the din. Then comes a thump, thump, thump. A prairie dog, sucked out of its home at speeds nearing 60 m.p.h., spins up the 5-inch-wide hose, banks off a foam wall and slides into the back of the truck.

Balfour climbs in and examines the ruffled rodent. "He's a little miffed, but he's fine," he says. "He's thinking: `Now how did I get in here?'"

For the past 12 years, Balfour and his custom-made vacuum have rumbled across the West, sucking up prairie dogs like so much lint from a sprawling shag carpet.

The animals, which resemble pudgy, barking squirrels, are beloved and despised here. For some, they are as much symbols of the West as buffalo and elk; but for others, they are little more than glorified rats that dig up fields and chew up gardens.

Dealing with them has become a politically charged issue. Widespread poisoning and shooting of the animals are increasingly frowned upon, despite the damage they do.

Balfour, 62, thinks he has found another way. His company, Dog Gone, plucks thousands of prairie dogs from ranches, Indian reservations, medical centers and housing developments every year.

He says no one approaches his success rate, which he attributes, as he does many things, to a higher power.

"I don't know why God united me with the prairie dog," Balfour says. "All I know is, I'm along for the ride."

A plethora of prairie dogs

Researchers believe about 18 million prairie dogs live in 12 states, with Colorado having the largest population. Finding humane ways to deal with them has been a growing concern as people encroach on their habitat.

Last year, the Boulder Valley School District in Colorado was plagued by prairie dogs digging up playing fields and ruining irrigation systems. But when it announced plans to poison them, it was deluged with e-mail messages and letters from around the world.

The district dropped the idea and instead trapped the prairie dogs and moved them to other habitats. One popular method involves flooding burrows with soapsuds, then collaring the animals when they run out.

In 1999, the city of Boulder banned the killing of prairie dogs, choosing instead to relocate them. While it's still legal to exterminate them in Boulder County, officials try to avoid it. The result has been a boom in prairie dogs, with fewer places to put them.

"I have three technicians working six months a year just doing prairie dog removal," said Mark Brennan, wildlife coordinator for Boulder County. "We have 10,000 to 15,000 acres of prairie dogs in our county now. We had 800 acres in 1998."

This plethora of prairie dogs has made the last few years Balfour's busiest yet.

Balfour said he understands prairie dog psychology, their moods and even a bit of what they are saying when they yelp endlessly.

"You got your sulkers, your whiners, your complainers, your sweet ones and your lovable ones," he said. "I had a guy say to me: `Balfour, you've gone too far with this. Just kill them and be done with it!' But that's not my mission."

After catching the prairie dogs, Balfour drives them in air-conditioned trucks to Arizona, Wyoming, Utah, and elsewhere in Colorado, where he donates them to the black-footed ferret reintroduction program. The ferrets, among the nation's most endangered species, prey on prairie dogs. Some are fed directly to the ferrets while others are let loose so the ferrets can track them.

"Even though they are sacrificed to the ferrets, that's not our long-term intent," Balfour said. "Once the ferrets are back up, we can release the prairie dogs into the wild and let the two of them work out their own deal."

Vacuuming upsets some

The Prairie Dog Coalition, a Boulder-based group trying to protect the animals, said prairie dogs are sucked up so fast that many die or are maimed.

"We do not support vacuuming as a method of humanely removing prairie dogs," said David Crawford, acting director of the group. "Unfortunately, his device holds some fascination for the public, though that dissipates when you consider that prairie dogs are being thrown in the back of a truck with rocks, sticks, snakes and salamanders."

Scott Dutcher, who heads the Colorado Department of Agriculture's Bureau of Animal Protection, said he has seen video of the prairie dogs whizzing through the hose and into the back of the truck.

"From what I saw, they seemed fine--more dizzy than anything else," he said. "We have received no complaints. Common sense tells you that there are no easy ways to get a prairie dog out of its hole."