For the past 3 seasons, I’ve been at war. It’s a quiet war, one most would not even realize was happening with the exception of the few times you may find me shrieking like a banshee in my backyard… lobbing dirt, rocks, hand tools or anything not bolted down when my turf has been invaded.
The enemy is shrewd and determined. They rise in the morning earlier than I do. I’m greeted each day with a trail of destruction that rivals any viking raid. And each day I swear vengeance. They hit me exactly where it hurts: lettuces, kale, radishes…all of my earliest harvest put off indefinately. I am not cunning enough to stop them or bold and callous enough to kill them and feast on their diabolical flesh.
Damned squirrels. Cute as can be but devious as hell. My chickens, who aren’t the brightest bulbs in the bunch, still understand this and take any opportunity to drive them from the garden. But no one can stop them.
In spite of their impressive evasive maneuvering, this season I am trying to outsmart them. I’ve moved the cucumbers they snacked on enthusiastically to our hanging wall garden in the hopes that they will be out of reach. I built a ridiculous looking tent around the kale they had been pillaging. I may have to do the same for my lettuces. Yesterday I witnessed one of these arrogant little creeps rip handfuls of radish greens out and cram them into it’s greedy little mouth. All while standing about 5 feet away from me! The audacity! The worst offense was last summer when I would find whole, beautiful beefsteak tomatoes that I had been coveting for weeks thrown upon the ground with only a few bites taken out of it. I nearly became homicidal at that point. Have they no conscience? What waste!
So how do I get ’em? How do I make them stop without reducing my yard to a serious of boobie-traps and gauntlet-esque contraptions?? I need to win this fight. I have to see these rebels fall and I want to be the one responsible for it.