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Waging War ... in the Garden |
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by Teri Flatley
Sometimes in war the enemy creeps up on you, but the weeds in my yard are done creeping. They have arrived, big time, and have settled in like your Cousin Freddy who asks if he can please stay with you till he finds viable employment -- any day now. There are three distinct species of weeds in my yard, living off the lush mushroom manure I have been spreading for years. First there are the tall, prickly thistle-y things that are suffocating my day lilies. These green spikes look like distant cousins to Venus Flytraps. The day lilies are on their own. Then there are the spidery ones in the front bed which send out their roots ... everywhere ... and the green clumps in the side yard that sport a pink flower once in a while, a real slap in the face to the flowers that are actually supposed to be growing there. And even though highway-hardy crown vetch is not technically a weed, I consider it one when it commences to sprout in the bed next to my neighbor's driveway, on my side of the property line, of course. The wretched vetch took root one year after bark had been spread there, the seeds hiding in the bark. Now, every spring, the long tendrils pop out of the ground and begin to spread, as nature intended, I guess. Just not my nature.
Other strange but guaranteed-to-work suggestions included hanging oil-based soap-filled pouches from nearby trees and placing deodorant soaps tied to stakes near the garden. No dice. The deer kept eating. Desperate, I also tried those repellent sprays said to work when nothing else does. I'd spray the individual leaves of my plants only to learn from a tree man who stopped by that deer would still nosh on them until they realized the spray had made the leaves untasty. Then the first deer would move on to sweeter snacks but the deer who came next would also feel compelled to nosh on some of the sprayed leaves until he or she was turned off. Don't these deer talk to each other? Guess not, because a small herd could take out most flowering plants in a very short time. And this was the stuff they didn't like. I threw in the trowel. The only annuals I plant these days sit in pots on my deck or front porch. The first deer I see hoofing it up the steps to get at these tasty treats will be the last. Now you might wonder as I did why deer don't feast on the weeds which, without overstating the obvious, are plentiful. To my inexpert eye, the weeds look just as tasty as my flowers, but nary a deer will chew on them. I began to think about how swell it would be if I came up with a product that made weeds -- and only weeds -- attractive to deer. Something comparable to ketchup or salsa that makes any human food palatable. It could be the turning point in the war.
Teri Flatley is a freelance writer and editor living in Pittsburgh, PA. See more of her work at www.tflatley.com.
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I
haven't asked much from my yard. Green grass; some flowers to
catch the sun's rays; shade-dappled beds. But what have I gotten
instead? A struggle worthy of David and Goliath between me and
weeds, the irresistible force, and deer, the immovable object;
a struggle that could bring any gardener to her knees. 
As
for actually planting a flower garden, I surrendered several years
ago to Bambi and friends who waited till my flowers were thriving
and then ate them to the ground. I tried all the anti-deer repellents.
Dried blood. Moth balls. I learned that there were desperate people
who took human hair from beauty shops and laid it gently around
their flowers to ward off deer. There were others who would travel
to their local zoos and bring back dung to lay in the beds.