Victimization and response

My fury

As autumn threatens to pay us a sustained visit, though it still has yet to occur in the Chesapeake despite the calendar, I will confess I am furious. As I write that statement, I feel my chest tighten and I must work to relax because I really don’t need a coronary. Breathe, Cynthia, breathe.

The opposition is so incredibly selfish, unwelcome, violent, and crafty, not to mention unwilling to follow my rules. The opposition will not acquiesce to any of my desires but continues fighting me, struggling to destroy so much I have cultivated for lo, seven years. Every day I tell myself I can survive, I can look the other way, and I can persevere but I reached the breaking point on Wednesday. Four days later I am every bit as upset so I must act with complete accuracy.

I admit I am just beyond reconciliation in any way. I am on a path towards out and out war where I will force unconditional surrender.

The bloody squirrels digging up my bulbs are intolerable, simply beyond belief or excuse. I must, absolutely must, stop them.

I am not the world’s most seasoned or expert gardener. I plant what I like to cultivate color, richness, and visual pleasure in our world. I water, I get rid of the pesky leaves at this time of the year, and I move things around to assure the stoop looks tidy. I invariably have the earliest hanging baskets in the spring as I need to see that sign of spring.

Unfortunately, aliens known as squirrels began infesting my pots about four years ago. They are heinous beings because it’s all about them.

I tried this smelly stuff my husband found on Amazon last year to address this. The warnings about using gloves when one spread the stuff were evidence enough that this stuff would drive the squirrels away. Its odor was so vile that I was confident no creature would dare make a run on my tulip bulb because this smell would stick with around for weeks, as it seemed to do with my jacket when I was spreading it last year.

Next day, mounds of dug up soil as if I had done nothing yet I could still smell the junk as if it were in my nostrils.

Then online advice recommended coffee grounds, which made a lot of sense. In the distant recesses of my mind, I recall reading that many creatures do not find the aroma of coffee nearly as alluring as our household does (I had colleagues who shared that silly view over the years—generally Air Force—but I figured my willingness to improve their lives by introducing them to excellent coffee was limited. There is only so much improvement in the world one woman can encourage.). Since I arise at roughly 4 every morning, the coffee grounds were suitably dried any day to spread carefully and fully to keep those ridiculous illegal aliens from stealing from me. I feared using too much when I deployed the grounds but knew that they would gradually seep down to enrich the soil after they deterred the opposition.

Within a day of putting out coffee grounds, my stoop had dirt all over and the bulb holes were empty. The below photograph doesn’t do justice to the usual damage so I suppose they have consumed most everything else.

The squirrels are relentless. Every bloody day this week I walked out to find dirt all over everything with resulting holes in my huge pots. I mean everywhere.

This does not occur on our balcony, merely on the front patio. What is the variable, I wondered? Ah, Harry Truman, of course. Harry cavorts on the balcony when I arise every morning but I never worry about him outside as he’s too fearful to jump off (Eleanor began using the pots of litter boxes so she was not allowed to spend time on the balcony). Harry is also constrained by a closed door that precludes him from venturing down the back staircase. He has carefully “marked” as cats do so well every single pot on the balcony, except the hanging basket with the fuchsia and tomato plant I told you about weeks ago. Having pondered the evidence of why the balcony has no invaders but the front patio does, I concluded that Harry’s “marking” keeps the bloody invaders away, similar to bears avoiding campsites when humans leave certain bodily functions along the perimeter. So far so good in my analysis of the security risk here.

But Harry would never be helpful out front as he is the scaredy cat of all scaredy cats. He would freeze and throw back his ears as if he feared a train were going to run him down rather than wonder around in a relatively open area to mark the pots. He would be terrified by being out there, much less the idea of doing something useful.

We investigated solutions at the local garden store. They suggested that vile smelling stuff I mentioned. (When I told the woman my opinion of it for efficacy and human tolerance both, she agreed. Well then why did you urge me to get it? I wondered but did not ask.) So, I am in left with full combat mode.

We escalated to the mega hardware store in search of a border wall of our own making. We created two trial sections yesterday, cutting rigid metal wire (not chicken wire but that sort of thing), then trying to figure how to mold it around the pot to prevent any further illegal invasion. When I investigated this morning, our trial sections were in tact with no mounds of dirt anywhere.

We went to buy more supplies this morning along with bricks to lay on top of the metal, after my husband cuts the sheets without the metal cutting him more successfully (quite a challenge, I confess). We will cut a protective section of wire, then weigh down with bricks, for each and every pot. I know that the bloody invaders will still try finding access into our precious holdings but I am pretty confident this solution may work.

I hate these creatures. I don’t find them cute: they are annoying and relentless. I am not violent (yet) so this is a sustained conflict I must pursue for the future of my garden. Will you join my cause?

Actions create consequences so if you have a solution that I haven’t found online, I welcome it. I also welcome any and all feedback on any columns. Thank you for your time as I hope you too are experiencing a lovely, if chilly, November Saturday.

Be well and be safe. FIN