Don't Fence Me In

A never-ending menace to gardening is the plethora of feral free-loaders who wait in the wings to invade and behave as if it is their royal right to consume your hard-fought edibles for themselves. Everything and anything from insects (far too many varieties to even attempt to enumerate) to rabbits to deer to voles to fungi to nematodes to bacteria, have competed with us for vegetable harvests. It can be a frustrating experience dealing with all these thieves.

I've written before on this blog about how we try to live with these many menaces, without going toxic and poisoning them (and ourselves a little, to boot). There's a certain degree of vegetable damage that we've learned to accept—sort of like a tax grudgingly paid to the government. There are also many nonviolent methods a gardener can use, to discourage purloiners or to lessen their damage. A gardener can never let down the guard, however, as some of these critters can quickly multiply and overwhelm you.

Of the larger-size thieves, deer have blessedly been one of our minor problems. Unlike our neighbors, we've not had to install tall fences, or electric shock mechanisms, or implement other major defenses. I believe that our free-roaming dogs who love to chase deer are our biggest deterrent. Luckily we live in a very rural location in which our dogs can roam without infringing on neighbors.

Now and then an invader gets the upper hand, however, and we struggle to control the damage. This year the beets and Swiss chard—just as they were at a succulent two-inch height—got nipped off at soil level by some critter bigger than a beetle, yet was too small to leave behind telltale tracks. Rabbit? Chipmunk? Weasel? Couldn't be voles—they sneak in from underground and drag the plant down into their subterranean lair, to chow down at their leisure. We lost our first round of chard and beet plantings to the mystery thief.

Later on, while picking beans, my wife discovered the identity of our invader. And what an audacious little critter! Hunkered down in the bean patch mulch was a rabbit's nest, from which momma and three babies made a dash for safety! Attracted by the uproar, our dog went on the chase. He caught one baby, and we flinched at its squeals, feeling bad about its death, while at the same time recognizing that the dog was just following nature's urge. We'd rather repel critters than kill them, but when they cross a certain line, more drastic measures may be in order.

We soon retired for the night, leaving the dog on night patrol around the garden, hoping that what remained of the rabbit family was still heading over the far ridge. (My major ire was directed at our cat, who is supposed to take on night patrol duties, fending off rabbits and their rodent cousins. What's he been doing all night—dancing to the light of the moon?)

Just after dawn the next morning, we heard occasional canine yips coming from the direction of the garden. Was the dog fending off a threatened return of the rabbits? Was he celebrating another catch? His insistent yipping drew me from my cozy bed. Shuffling through the morning dew toward the garden, I saw him trapped inside the garden fence. He’d been calling to us (all night!) to free him. 

How had he managed to trap himself inside, with the gate closed, when we were sure he was outside? Did the rabbits push the gate shut behind him, and then from outside, tease him? Had he gotten so excited about catching more rabbits that he managed to leap the fence to get at the nest? I could find no other place of entry and I doubt that he managed to latch the gate behind himself. How many times I have wished he could speak English and explain himself... he'd have another hilarious story to tell!