A Wrench in the Works

 Around here, it doesn’t take a big event to make living worthwhile.  Today we pulled carrots, and our lives were shown purpose.  We sat on a bench and washed and scrubbed each one and they glistened with an orange glow and the air smelled sweet of carrot.  About every fifth one had damage from carrot maggot so a slight surgical procedure was required to render them perfect.  An occasional blemish from insect activity comes with the program when using organic methods and is proof positive that our efforts incorporate the greater ecological community.  If the crop is not totally destroyed by competitors and the harvest adequate for our needs, all is well.

There is safety in numbers, so a good gardening strategy is to plant more than needed, anticipating some loss.  It’s a good practice but since the space allotted to growing vegetables has limits, other measures are sometimes necessary, like physical barriers or spray deterrents to keep the likes of cottontails and deer from munching into our personal ration.

We have developed a strong craving for sweet corn year round, so we eat fresh when in season then bag up plenty of frozen kernels to last the year. The goal is to produce around 600 ears, and for years it was a pretty simple objective: plant seeds, mulch for weed control, harvest.  Simple.  A few earworms, but generally clean, full and scrumptious.  Then one year the raccoons found us and when it was clear they intended to claim the entire crop we set up an electric fence.  They apparently found the sensation of excited electrons unattractive because the problem was immediately resolved, and thereafter I made a practice of installing the fence just as the ears were silking.  It was highly effective, and the raccoons left the patch alone.

For the past couple years we have experienced problems with vermin eating our corn seed within a day or two of planting.  Replanting proved futile so we now have to start the plants in flats and transplant them individually to the garden.  It’s a bit of a pain and no longer a simple process, but still worth the effort.

The stalks were just beginning to tassel this year and the fence was not yet in place when a malicious band of masked bandits paid a visit.  The ears were mere nubbins but the vandals were undeterred, knocking over plants, chewing the stalks, removing the embryonic origins of what one day would have been plump rows of sweetness.

There’s a scene in the movie A Christmas Story where the Bumpuses dogs have stolen the Christmas turkey from the kitchen table and when Mr. Parker recognizes the deed he runs to the back door and squeaks out an obscenity through a throat tightened with rage.  As I surveyed the damaged sweet corn, I found that obscenity fit perfectly and it flowed freely.  The electric fence was up in short order.

Human-wildlife conflicts have been around since the dawn of man.  Those that make the news and stir up the most emotion involve predators who view humans as prey. Next in line are conflicts involving domestic livestock.  But damage to cropland is by far the most common, sometimes occurring in the most unlikely of places.  A yoga studio downtown has a small raised bed garden that has been nipped off by deer on more than one occasion.  The garden is tucked away behind a seven foot brick wall, next to a building, and is surrounded on all sides by asphalt and roadways, but the deer still like to visit.

It is our inclination to wield dominion over everything, to force our sense of stewardship on the land, to bring order to a perceived chaos found in nature.  We don’t deal well with competition.  

Far more people are killed every year by domestic livestock than by wild animals but a killer cow seldom makes the news.  Almost all livestock deaths (prior to slaughter) are by means other than predation, but there are plenty of ranchers who would pull the trigger on the last breeding pair of wolves.  Maybe if we had more predators I’d have fewer vermin in my sweetcorn.  

Natural processes assure a healthy balance, but we have a tendency to throw a wrench in the works. We are good at damaging habitats, disrupting timeless checks and balances, then crying about the outcomes.  We encroach on woodland areas to build our dream homes then curse woodpeckers that drill holes in the siding.  We love our farm ponds but loathe the otters that periodically drop by.  We spend millions for toxic chemicals to apply to our monocultures of turfgrass, destroying a natural blend of grass and weeds which actually make our lawns more resistant to disease while benefiting everything from insects to songbirds to predators.  We’re programmed to deem almost any bug or weed residing within our declared space a bad thing.

It’s a challenging road to navigate, especially when the concept has not been culturally engrained. I didn’t agree to a bowling tournament in our kitchen ceiling organized by local pine squirrels and I won’t plant an acre of sweet corn in the hopes of harvesting 600 ears.  There has to be limits and controls, but the best solutions are found in working with natural processes that have been billions of years in the making.   Any other approach spawns larger and more complex problems. The evidence is everywhere.  We can all do better.