Notes from an Uprooted Englishwoman
I am once again under siege. The local wildlife has issued a vendetta against my person and it appears there are multiple species willing to contribute to the cause.
My latest tale of woe begins with a fence. It’s a lovely fence that surrounds a sizeable portion of the back yard. It was installed earlier this summer to contain the exuberance of our canine companions.
Between our home and the next-door-neighbors, we now possess a total of seven dogs. You might be thinking this is an excessive amount of fur, and you would be right – we humans are now one pup away from being outnumbered by a factor of two.
I’m thinking of getting one of those signs they have in factories and mines that proclaim it’s been 230 days since the last on-site injury. For us, though, it would count the time since we adopted our last dog, and somehow I don’t see it getting much past the hundred mark.
I digress: the dogs are not to blame. Their only contribution to the drama has been the need for a fence in the first place, and I can hardly blame them for that – particularly after the many hours of laughter we’ve enjoyed while they chase each other around the grass.
It wasn’t until the first signs of fall that we realized we were going to have a problem. The local deer, you see, have always been welcome to roam the yard and have developed a particular liking for the acorns that drop from our trees.
Those trees are now in the center of the area protected by fence. The deer are displeased.
Being long-legged cervines, even the six-foot portions of the fence are barely a deterrent. Several of the veterans began leaping over the barrier to snack on their favorite treat.
Aside from the dents in the fencing, we didn’t really mind. Or, at least, I didn’t mind until I realized they were not even a little bit wary of my presence.
When you’ve got a dog at the door crossing its legs, you really need the visitors to clear on out so it can trot outside to pee. This is not a problem the deer care about.
I tried informing them it was time to go, I tried walking across the grass towards them, but it didn’t work – they just kept right on munching. If those deer had eyebrows, they would have raised them.
Clapping seemed to do the trick, but now I had a new problem: resentment. I can confirm that a deer deprived of its acorns is a deer who doesn’t like you very much.
After that, whenever I walked the perimeter of the yard with my youngest pup in tow, two groups of deer would hiss at me from the other side of the fence. I don’t know why they directed all the blame in my direction, but it’s been a little disconcerting.
It wasn’t long before they called in reinforcements. Not long ago, one of the larger dogs refused to come in when called. Mom-in-Law was confused by her unusual disobedience until she realized there was a staring contest going on between the labradoodle and a mountain lion on the other side of the fence.
The lion was discouraged from further visits, but it made its point. Acorns, I believe it was saying, are for deer.
Then the squirrels got in on the action, yelling at me from the trees. I think their contribution had more to do with the fact they don’t want the dogs in what they consider to be their own back garden (which is fair, because a couple of them have to be watched at all times lest they snack on those acorns themselves,) but it all amounts to much the same effect.
Next up was the local woodpecker, who has picked up an unusual habit. He likes to position himself above me in the trees and peck at an acorn until it falls on my head.
The first time it happened, I thought it was just Mother Nature doing her thing – it is fall, after all, and the clue there is in the name. But the third time I was nearly given a concussion, I realized the common denominator was the bird.
You might be thinking it was just having itself a snack, but it wasn’t eating the acorns. It would perch on a branch, tap the acorn with its beak, then flit off to find another one. At all times, it would make sure to be directly above me.
None of these attempts stopped me from going outside, because the dogs still need their outside time. But as I write this column, I am trembling in the knowledge they’ve decided to bring in the big guns.
You may recall our adventures earlier this summer to rid the property of a skunk. It’s not a thing that happens very often, so we weren’t expecting to go outside one evening and find a second skunk squatting under my vehicle.
It stared at us meaningfully, clearly issuing a warning, and then scuttled off. We do spot nomad skunks from time to time, so we were prepared to let the matter go, but it appears to have taken up residence under the wood pile.
If ever something was guaranteed to make me stay indoors, it’s the knowledge there’s a skunk nearby but I don’t know exactly where it is. Surprise skunk is not an experience I want to have.
Kudos to the deer, who are once again happily chewing on acorns in the middle of the yard. If they could, I think they’d be smirking at me.
I don’t know where that skunk’s gone and I’m not about to look for it – that way lies tomato juice and tears. The deer have won and I’m not afraid to admit it, because the only safe plan for my health and wellbeing is to stay the other side of the patio doors until there’s not an acorn left in the subdivision.