Consternation is the word for the day. We have babied sweet pea seeds for a couple of weeks now and they have prospered reaching a height of three to four inches. Netting is waiting to be installed for the vines to travel up and display their glorious flowers. This particular planter has been spared the dreaded gophers for years. They have only been toying with me, giving me a false sense of security, waiting for the right moment to strike. Strike they did! Half of the hopeful vines have been devoured. Gone, gone, gone with only the gopher's tell tale mound and gaping hole left to remind me of their treachery. Wicked, wicked vile creatures.
We have learned to live with the deer, even enjoy watching them, especially this time of year when the babies are in tow. We have figured out what they don't eat and all is good. But the gopher is an elusive creature who only leaves behind ruin and has, as far as I can tell, not one redeeming quality.
We had the best garden ever when we lived in Nipomo, CA several years ago. It was a thing of beauty. The yellow crookneck squash plants were so big I could kneel down behind it and completely disappear. Gophers were a problem then, as well. Bob, the great white hunter, would take his hand gun and a flashlight and undercover of darkness lay in wait for the little beasts to dare to show their beady eyes. We would hear a pop and usually a few choice words and then silence. One night in particular he bagged one that, I swear, looked as big as a cat
Of all the plants though, and there were row upon row, the lowly garlic remained untouched. We laughed and said we should have just planted garlic. Then one Saturday morning as we surveyed the fruits of our labors, Bob suddenly started hollering and filling the air with blue language. It seems that it wasn't that the gopher didn't like garlic, they simply waited until the bulbs were big enough to suit them. Discriminating taste those little ba@&#*%$! They had eaten two whole rows of almost ready for the cooking pan beautiful garlic!
I'm trying to tell myself that all of God's creatures have a right to make a living and we should live in peace will each and everyone of them. Most days I'm in full agreement with that sentiment but the only thing that keeps me from digging up the whole yard in search of the little devil is the fact that it is, after all, Sunday.
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