Deer say, ‘Off with their heads’
Let’s file this one under the title of “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished.”
Last fall, the farmer and I planted 300 crocus bulbs in the front yard. I remember every last one of them because my back still reminds me once in a while. My job was to follow behind as Patrick dug holes; I would pull the little papery bulbs from their net bags and drop them into the holes and then cover them. I was picturing how, come spring, I’d sit on my porch swing and look out onto a sea of little yellow and purple crocus faces.
Well, the deer found the sea of flowers before I could.
Last week, when my world finally turned toward the sun and the crocus faces jumped up out of the ground, the deer were waiting. One day the flowers were there, and the next they were all beheaded. Deep in the night, while we were asleep, the deer sauntered over and bellied up to our salad bar. After helping themselves to about 10 dozen croci (and that is the proper plural form of crocus – I looked it up), the deer wandered to the side of the house and started on the tulips.
They didn’t do much damage there, yet, because nothing has bloomed. We’re still a week or so away from the outburst of color over there, and if the deer think they’re going to trash all that, I’m not having it.
So, what will it be? Irish Spring soap shavings all around? Bags of human hair hanging from shrubs? A net covering the garden? Motion-sensor sprinklers all over the yard?
I got myself worked up about this late last night. Frustration led to indignation and then, a call to action. I’d heard deer don’t like baby powder – or is it babies?
I found a half-used container of Shower to Shower powder. In my nightgown and boots, I stomped out into the side garden and deployed the powder. This is tricky when it’s windy, and I found myself in a white cloud, half of which drifted across the driveway toward the neighbor’s house and the other half of which landed on my boots. I seriously considered lurking in the garden until early morning, when I could personally chase the deer away.
The deer come for their midnight snack around 3 a.m. I know this because the dog has been known to freak out around that hour. Last week Howard barked at 3:10; I got up and saw eight deer grazing in the neighbor’s side yard.
Eight of them.
Did I mention I do not live out in the wooded countryside? I live in a densely populated town near Pittsburgh. If a girl can’t safely grow tulips here, then where? And it’s not deer-laden Mt. Lebanon. I’m closer to the city than that.
Of course, it rained and washed away all the powder. The one crocus blossom the deer left untouched was now gone, too. I’d planned to powder it last night, but ran out of powder. It was big and purple, and I could see it from the porch swing.
I know the deer are just hungry, but did they have to take my last one?
Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.