deer

STILL Not Smarter Than A Cervid

/ Diane Henders / 14 Comments

Remember how I heaved a sigh of relief when the deer finally left our yard?  And remember how I speculated that Mother Nature must have finally decided I’d been punished enough?

Ha.

I’ve always suspected Ma Nature has a sadistic streak, so it was with a sense of inevitability that I discovered more damage in my garden last month.  Only this time it was serious. 

Every morning I trudged miserably out to catalogue the newly-denuded stumps of cherished fruit trees, veggies, rose bushes, and other ornamentals… despite the 8-foot-tall fence around our yard.  Every afternoon I added more fortifications, until the yard was crisscrossed with complex mazes of fencing and netting. The deer got more and more brazen, strolling around and chowing down on the garden even in broad daylight.

Hubby and I sharpened into a precision tactical team.  With a single cry of “Deer!”, we both rushed for the door:  I (carrying my Gel Blaster) to open the gate; and Hubby stealthily circling around from the rear.  Then I fell back and together we stalked the deer, easing it toward the gate and then opening fire with shouts and soft-gels to drive it through.

We kicked that deer out of the yard several times a day, and every evening.  Each time the deer would trot across the road before slowing… and then circling right back.  And it kept getting back in, throwing itself at the fence until the wire ripped from its posts and it could scramble over.  The garden was decimated, and I felt besieged.  What the hell was wrong with this damn deer? We’ve lived here seven years and no deer has ever attacked the fence before.

At last, all was revealed when Hubby glimpsed the deer in the woods:  It wasn’t an ‘it’; it was a ‘she’.  And she had a fawn.  No wonder we couldn’t keep her out.

Without much hope, I purchased a deer call to simulate doe grunts.  The salesman at Cabela’s openly laughed at me, and in my heart of hearts I knew he was right:  There was no way I was going to be able to lure the baby outside the fence.

But the very next morning, Mother Nature (and Mother Deer) finally relented.  I looked out the window and there was Mom in the yard… with two fawns gamboling after her.  Absolutely adorable!  And, more importantly, positioned so that we could herd them out the gate.

After all our practice, it was ridiculously easy.  Mom knew the drill by then.  In fact, I’m pretty sure she was counting on us to open the gate so she and her babies could leave the nursery.  The operation was accomplished in only a few minutes, and they trotted calmly away into the forest.  As Mom flicked her tail nonchalantly in our direction, I read the thought-bubble above her head:  “Stupid humans.”

And I hardly even minded, because the fawns were SO cute.  (And SO GONE!!!)

But I haven’t relaxed.  In just a few short weeks, the fawns will be old enough to jump almost as high as the mother.  I really hope they’ve forgotten about our yummy garden buffet…

Book 18 update: I’m beginning to wonder if this book is cursed. Every time I start to make progress, something else goes haywire. But despite demonic deer, a forced transfer to a completely new publishing distributor, some necessary updates to book covers and promos, “fire-smarting” our house and yard for the current wildfire season, AND another round of medical appointments for my cranky back… I’ve managed to complete Book 18’s plotting! Stay tuned for writing progress, hopefully soon. 🙂

Smarter Than A Cervid… Not.

/ Diane Henders / 25 Comments

Every now and then Mother Nature sticks a pin in my ego just to hear it pop.  Apparently this spring she decided I was getting too big for my britches, and her rebuke was swift and humiliating. So the story begins…

Here on Vancouver Island, deer are smug. They don’t even bother to stop grazing on your prized perennials until you get within 20 yards or so.  Then they look you square in the eye with an expression that clearly says, “Get lost.  You’re interrupting my meal.”  They’ll only move on (grudgingly) if you run at them, waving your arms and yelling.  Dumb deer. 

(I’m pretty sure Mother Nature snickered with evil anticipation when I uttered those words.)

We have an 8’ high pagewire fence to keep the deer out of our garden.  It works fine, unless a tree falls on it. So when I glanced out the window and spotted a deer chowing down on my tulips, I didn’t need three guesses to figure out what had happened.

That’s when I made my first mistake:  I charged outdoors yelling and waving my arms. And instead of fleeing via the open gate, the deer strolled away and vanished into the forest behind our house.  Hubby and I checked the fence line, and discovered where a giant tree had fallen and smashed the fence flat.

Then we made our second mistake:  We repaired the fence, assuming that the deer had departed via the same route it had arrived.  (They usually do.)

But no; this time we discovered we’d trapped the deer inside. 

That kicked off a gong show of ever-escalating attempts to evict the deer:  Purchasing a motion-activated trail camera; floundering through dense woods looking for deer shit and tracks; crashing around in said woods with air horns and whistles; getting the neighbours to bring over their dogs; installing a high-wattage yard light; and constructing an elaborate corn-baited trap against the gate, so we could open the gate and release the trapped deer outside the perimeter.

Each time I came up with a new ‘foolproof’ plan, I patted myself on the back for being smarter than a cervid. 

But each time, the deer outsmarted me.

At last, Mother Nature must have decided I was suitably chastened.  One morning I spotted hoofprints and disturbed ground near a low point in the fence (right beside our brilliant trap).  Apparently the deer had simply gotten bored and left.  In fact, there’s a pretty good chance that for a few days the deer was jumping the fence both ways: Coming in to snack on the corn bait and then departing without triggering the trap. Embarrassing.

But despite the revelation that I’m dumber than a deer, I’m still calling the episode a win: The deer is gone and hasn’t returned.

Kinda like my pride, actually…

Book 18 update: I’m on Chapter 22, and Aydan’s former enemy is suspiciously friendly. Aydan’s not buying it, but she has to play along… for now.

Oh, Deer!

/ Diane Henders / 54 Comments

Last week I mentioned that mice were infiltrating our house; but we’re also keeping a hostile eye on the deer that are zeroing in on our garden.

Now, don’t get me wrong; I like deer… in venison pepperoni, with a side of fries…

I’m kidding.  (Okay, not really; venison pepperoni is delicious.  But unless I was really hungry I wouldn’t bother killing a deer just for pepperoni.)

Anyhow, when we bought our beautiful little corner of the wilderness we intended to put an 8’ deer fence around our garden.  That was supposed to have happened a couple of months before the garden was planted, but despite our persistent efforts we still don’t have a fence.  The contractor might finally get it started next week.  Welcome to Island Time.

Fortunately there aren’t many deer around our place, but every now and then one wanders in… like the one I caught grazing on the grass (fortunately not on my peas or beans) this weekend.

I opened the front door and yelled, “HEY DEER, GET LOST!”

The deer stared, and a thought bubble appeared above its head:  “What the…?”

“I SAID GET LOST!”  I strode purposefully toward the garden, expecting the deer to run as soon as it saw me leave the house.  After all, its counterparts in Alberta flee at the barest glimpse of a human. But apparently Island deer are braver.  Or dumber, or both.

It stood gawping at me as if it couldn’t quite believe I had the nerve to interrupt its dinner.  And it didn’t run.

Finally when I was only about 20 yards away it deigned to trot a few paces to the west.  Not away from me, mind you, but laterally; giving ground but refusing to stoop to an undignified retreat.

But the deer was the only one burdened with dignity.  I broke into a gallop over the uneven ground, waving my arms and bellowing, “RUN YA LITTLE BASTARD!  RUN!  HRAAAGH!!!”

After a single incredulous glance the deer took to its heels, but it still didn’t run flat-out.  When I started gaining on it, it finally put on a proper burst of speed and vanished over the berm that surrounds our property, undoubtedly to meet its friends in the forest and describe the wack-job that had just chased it.

And wack-job I was; because I had been in the middle of a construction project.  I was wearing safety goggles; my earmuff hearing protectors had gotten tangled up in my hair so they flopped and bounced (painfully, I might add) off the side of my head; and it was hot so I’d tucked my T-shirt up inside my bra, exposing my pasty white belly.

Seeing that apparition advancing, it’s no wonder the poor damn deer didn’t know what to do.  It was probably laughing too hard to be capable of running.  But my garden is still intact.  So far.

I sure hope we get our deer fence installed this week – the snickering from the forest is starting to get to me.

Know of any good deer deterrents (that aren’t rated by calibre)?

* * *

P.S. Woohoo!  I have a draft cover for Book 12, and preorders should be available shortly.  Stay tuned!  But… I can’t decide on a title.  What do you think?

Here’s the draft of the cover blurb:

Reluctant secret agent Aydan Kelly is posing as an arms dealer when her gangland buyer is implicated in a deadly plot to attack Remembrance Day services. 

Partnered with an agent she can’t trust, Aydan races against time to stop the terrorists; but her partner’s volatile temper might blow the whole op… if it doesn’t kill her first.  And when she discovers her lover is embroiled in the case, Aydan must decide:  Will she sacrifice him to save hundreds of innocent lives?

Have your say: