I have documented my struggles with critters in past blogs. Things have not improved. Our thorough winter drenching led to unprecedented, lush spring growth. No surprise, the local population of everything has flourished as a result.
It seemed, at first, as if we only had visitors in the backyard. Occasional sightings of bunnies and squirrels didn’t cause alarm. I was somewhat more concerned when pairs of things started showing up. When combating varmints, two is never a good number. Since the carrot fiasco of 2018, I’ve been trying to plant critter-resistant produce and flowers.
Our artichoke plant doubled in size this season. I attempted potatoes. Nothing seems to eat the greenery, but they aren’t exactly flourishing. So far, no one has discovered the blueberries and we are harvesting a bumper crop. Evidently nobody likes the taste of geraniums. Our roses went berserk.
I heard planting tomatoes in pots sometimes discourages pests. After filling a clay pot with soil, I put in a single Sweet 100 tomato—we’ve had success with those in the past. A colorful tomato cage fit perfectly. I gave the tomato its very own flow-controlled sprinkler.
Eager to see how the new plant was doing, I walked behind our raised beds to take a look. There I found a young, though still incredibly long California racer snake basking in the sun. I didn’t scream. I didn’t run. Hoping my husband would have good ideas about this problem—I have an admittedly illogical terror of all snakes, poisonous or not—I went inside to get him. He was in the shower. No help there.
Creeping behind the raised beds once again, I saw the snake was still sun bathing and went inside to wait. When at last my husband accompanied me to the backyard, the snake was gone. Glancing around, he calmly stated, “There it is.” I screamed and grabbed his arm, not in an effort to appear a needy female, but because seeing a snake and keeping an eye on it is much different than knowing one is near but not knowing where.
The snake was curled up in a narrow flower bed near the back wall. A bulge indicated he had breakfast, likely some unsuspecting lizard. Although I never saw the snake again, I heard it a couple times over the next few days. A snake makes a much different long noise slithering through garden debris than does a lizard. In an effort to reconcile my fears with the reality of sharing the garden with a snake, I named him “Speedy.” After all, snakes eat mice and rats, right? I noticed lizards, normally abundant in our yard, were nowhere to be seen. There were no sightings of bunnies or squirrels for several days. Then the lizards and rodents returned. I believe either the snake took off for other parts or something ate him.
Next, I saw a large bird—likely a hawk—fly full speed into a bush at the back of our property. Angry squirrel chirping indicated either death or escape, I wasn’t able to determine which as the hawk quickly flew out of sight. Thoughts of baby squirrels being attacked haunted my dreams.
Then an incredibly fat rabbit drowned in our swimming pool. No matter how I detest the competitors for my vegetation, I don’t really want anything to die. My fantasies of a lush garden with birds merrily singing is a pipedream. I must face the fact it truly is a wild kingdom out there.
I discovered a large hole under a retaining wall the other night. I believed from its size, it must belong to a rabbit. Wrong. As I sat reading my morning e-mail, I spotted baby ground squirrels cavorting around that area. They jumped and dashed about and were incredibly precious. I certainly can’t consider murdering those.
It appears inevitable the pumpkin plants will soon be toast. The remaining gazanias are doomed. The sunflower seedlings will continue to disappear. My hopes that only the bottom of the tomato plant would get eaten are dashed. I have lost the war to darlingness.
