Apprentice Pruners

Day 289: My regular pruner brought two apprentices with her this morning, and immediately the three of them set to work. They bypassed the raspberries in favour of the kiwi vine tendrils on the outside of the chicken-wire fence, but I do believe I have my work cut out for me from now until harvest time. I'd been wondering why the water level in the bird bath kept dropping overnight. In fact, I even checked to see if the glass was cracked. Now I understand. The Berry Pen is fenced, and almost everything in it is caged by tomato towers, not so much for support as for a cervid deterrent. There's not much room to land if one of these critters was of a mind to jump the fence, and they're smart enough to realize it. Likewise, the raspberries are protected by chicken wire except where the vines poke through the holes (and for the most part, I train them to stay within the confines). Still, it looks like it's time to stock up on appropriately-sized rocks for my slingshot. I did not sign a contract with Bambi and Co. for pruning services.

Didn't All Croak

Day 148: I joke that my crocuses all croaked. In fact, there are a few which Bambi and his larger friends the elk missed when they browsed the garden snack bar during a midnight raid, but they still surprise me when they pop up each spring. The cervid problem is a major issue with any type of gardening here. My raspberries stretch up past six-foot walls of chicken-wire, and the Berry Pen likewise except on the side where the gooseberries' myriad thorns form a strong defense of the perimeter. Bambi and buddies stand on their hind legs to pull plums and apples from the neighbours' trees, but the chicken-wire won't support their weight, a detail they learned by trial and error. However, any vine which dares send a stem through the wire is guaranteed to find the pruners waiting. I've taken to keeping my slingshot and a bowl of appropriately-sized rocks on a shelf by the back door, although obviously, I cannot maintain a 24-hour vigil. Getting pinged on the rump a few times teaches most (but not all) that I mean business when it comes to guardin' my garden.

Better Late Than Never

Day 318: The Great Bambi War of 2018 has begun. I failed to take preventative steps as soon as I noticed cropped sunflowers and consequently, when I got up this morning, I discovered that the proverbial "low-hanging fruit" on the raspberry vines had been munched by the two culprits I've seen in the yard recently. They recognize me as a threat, so as soon as I step outside with my slingshot, they bound out of range, returning to raid under cover of darkness. A short fence has kept them off the tomatoes, but the raspberries grew tall this year, well beyond the chickenwire cap over the row. I may need to put in taller posts next year, but for now, I've laid window screens up against the vines, propped in place by tomato cages. If nothing else, Bambi is going to get his legs tangled if he tries to pull down the berries.

Watch Your Step

Day 258: Travelling cross-country in lower-elevation forest presents a number of hazards. You never know when your projected route is going to terminate in a devil's-club thicket (although if you're near a spring, it's pretty much guaranteed). You must be alert for small holes which might indicate ground-nesting bees. You must watch for ankle-grabbing vines, shin-cracking stobs, spidery drop-nets, eye-poking branches, slippery slopes, animal dens...in fact, I'm convinced that if the list was numbered, it would be equivalent to the number of steps taken during any one adventure. In other words, you must always, always, always watch where you are going. And that bit of woods-lore is precisely what saved Junior. Joe looked behind the log before he threw his leg over it, and therefore didn't step on the fawn.

We'd heard mom bounding up the hill a little earlier and didn't give her a second thought. The forest is home to all sorts of wildlife, and unless it's huffing or growling at you, the sounds it makes are pretty much just background noise. Small birds chirp and chatter, squirrels drop cones, grouse drum...silence in the forest is rarer than you might think. You become familiar with the normal noises of the woods even as you're attuned to notice something out of the ordinary. The thump of a deer's hooves on thick forest duff are one short phrase in the woodland symphony. Mom Deer has a different definition of "music appreciation." To her, the sound of three humans discussing the potential for Phantom Orchids occurring in pockets of her habitat were as glaring as a cymbal clash. With Junior still too unsteady on his legs to follow her with any speed, she imparted to him the cues which meant "stay still, don't move," and he froze in place, not even blinking during the brief time we spent cautiously taking photos.

Even when walking on an established trail, it's wise to mind your step. Little critters will be crossing that pedestrian highway, be they caterpillars, mice or voles, snakes, frogs or other species. Many of them can't get out of your way quickly, so the burden of their welfare is on your soles.

Sunflower Explosion

Day 286: There has been another Bambi-attack in my garden. Spike got one of the horse chestnut trees. I can only blame myself. I didn't surround all of them with wire, although I did take measures to protect the ones in the front yard. The savaged one may pull through; it had established a good root system, but as of this writing, there's not a leaf on it.

First to go were the raspberries, and I understand that Spike is looking for better forage than the brittle dry grass and withering leaves on non-cultivated plants. I can't blame him. The dry weather is hard on wildlife. That said, if I'd had clear foresight, I would have hung a string of cat-food cans as a "deer-scarer" as I've done in the past. All things considered, I'm surprised my nibbling nemesis ignored the sunflowers. This one now towers a foot above my head and is just beginning to open. With any luck, several more will mature to provide natural snacks for the birds. After all, they planted them. They should reap the harvest!

I'll Bet A Buck

Day 268: Bet a buck! See your doe! I had some interesting company while I was paddling around Tanwax Lake day before yesterday, and intended to share this handsome buck in velvet with my readers yesterday, but as things fell out, my internet failed. In any event, he was upstaged by the fledging of the Tree Swallow babies from the House of Chirp (see previous post).

Rather small for a three-point, he was with a doe of similar size. She was the more daring of the two, coming down to the water's edge and working her way along a narrow band of firm ground beneath the scrub. Bucky tested the water with one foot and chickened out, retreating to the safety of dry land. When the doe realized he wasn't following her, she returned to his side and the two went off into the brush together.