it’s okay to throw in the towel when you’ve fought a long battle and you can safely say you stand no chance in hell of winning.
I quit. The deer win.
We’re pulling all the bushes around the house. For the past 7 years I’ve tried everything short of a cranky bear on a chain but the deer just keep eating my bushes and plants. So they win. I give in, I can’t make them stop and I’m tired of trying. Every year, without fail, they have managed to nibble the bottom half of every bush so it looks like it has an bad hair cut. Bald on the bottom, lush on the top. I think the deer have started growing though because this year they ate even higher.
When I first moved here I thought it would be wonderful to look out my windows and see the deer and the rabbits and the raccoons. I’d work outside in the yard alongside my woodland friends and the birds would chirp, the sun would shine, and all would be happy in my little kingdom. tra-la-freakin-la.
I was wrong.
Don’t let their looks fool you, deer are wily and evil critters. They will dig up every bulb, sheer all the green off every tree or bush, and leave little poop pyramids, strategically placed, all over the yard. They will frolic all summer all cute and innocent like and they’ll watch you put in a whole new crop of bulbs. Then Winter hits and their eyes start glowing and they start to eat. Cute my ass.
I put in bulbs they don’t like, they ate them anyway. I planted things with prickers, they ate them anyway. The only thing that kept them away was spraying the bushes with wolf urine. The neighborhood dogs loved that. I accidentally brushed against a bush carrying groceries into the house and had to throw the jacket out.
The next year I saved up film canisters and drilled holes in them and filled them with moth balls. The deer ate around them.
I even bought mechanical light up Christmas deer to frighten them into submission …the deer posed for pictures with them.
I’m feeling pretty good about giving up. In a sense I win because I’m taking away their salad bar. I still can’t plant tulips and a few other deer delicacies but daffys look just as pretty when they make it to adulthood.
This also eliminates forcing a son, whichever is handy at the moment, to trim the bushes. Not a bad thing, the last time the boy did it it looked a little too much like one was flipping me off. I’m probably better off with them gone.
So I’m a quitter and proud of it. Nothing wrong with figuring out that you’re not going to win. It’s getting too expensive (and smelly) to fight this war and I’d rather put my energy into other things… like wabbit hunting… let’s see how lucky they are with four feet still attached 🙂 With God and the dog as my witnesses, I hereby swear I will grow violets and lily of the garden…or die trying.