Squashed, perhaps... but not Defeated

I felt the rage first. Then the sadness. I leaned over the edge of my raised garden bed/boat and examined the wound. It didn’t look fatal but could do her in.  She was lining up to be my prize winning butternut squash this year. A squat and exceptionally plump beauty. She had been basking in the sunniest part of the patch for a good month already and still had time to fatten up a little more as she was starting to take on a light tan before harvesting, come September.

I quickly glanced toward the others. The other fourteen. Yes, I had counted them. It was going to be a brilliant yield considering they were growing in a boat. It started out as an experiment in 2018. Why not use old boats as garden beds? We had moved to our cottage permanently and we faced problems with critters. Ground hogs. Chipmunks. Foxes. But…mostly DEER.

Having been a city gardener for most of my life, this was a whole new challenge here on our two acre plot of land in Rideau Lakes. Attracted by a couple of gnarly ancient apple trees that came with the place, the local white-tailed population had been coming here for years and now they were thrilled to find so many more tantalizing and delicious items on the menu. The idea for the boats seemed logical as they were like giant planters with a nautical flair we reckoned. They suited the landscape and lakeside location and were no longer seaworthy so we added a few more drainage holes and lined the bottoms with bales of hay, topped that layer with composted soil and planted them up. They served well as a barrier to ground hogs but the chipmunks, squirrels and deer still had easy access to these veggie vessels.

In the spring, after planting, we wrapped netting around the edges and planted rows of onions along the sides as we read that deer don’t like certain aromas like garlic or lavender or other strong smelling plants. They apparently also find textured or fuzzy leaves distasteful. So, it was surprising to see that not only had they taken a few bites out of my best butternut baby, they had devoured many of the leaves surrounding her as well. These are leaves that my old weathered hands find irritating - surely a mouthful of sandpaper-like foliage couldn’t possibly appeal. Alas, I was wrong.

The evening before, I had seen three does hovering near the squash filled boat. I didn’t hesitate and ran down the drive, arms flailing, flinging fallen apples along the way toward them to distract them. “Eat these!, I shouted, “Get away from my Squash!” It wasn’t the first time they had encountered my “mad woman on a mission” approach and it was taking more and more aggressive posturing on my part as the weeks passed to get them to run off. I needed a new plan.

The netting had been removed once the plants were established and had started to escape the confines of the boat and most of the fertilized squash were draping over the edges and lying on the ground next to it like bumpers used for docking. The large leaves acted as protection and hid the bulbous beauties but now they were slowly being revealed and Bambi and her crew were salivating at the edge of the forest and waiting for nightfall. I had no choice but to unravel the stowed away netting and erect it once again.

Now, you may be wondering why I would bother spending so much time and energy trying to save fifteen butternut squash. Have you seen the price of them in the grocery stores lately? One day I nearly fell over at the check-out when the price of one passed the ten dollar threshold. Even if half of mine were worth ten bucks a piece, I would only be looking at a little over a hundred dollars worth of veggies. So, that is really not the only reason. The real motivation behind my extreme measures to save these squash is similar to the way we nurture any new life. I grew these from seed. Organic seed. I know the soil I planted them in. I fed them organically. I used my precious well water on them when there wasn’t enough rain water. I checked on their progress daily. I weeded and cultivated the surrounding soil. I dreamt of the Butternut Squash Soup and the Garlicky Roasted Chunks and the Autumn display on the dining table at Thanksgiving. I floated the bright yellow blossoms in my bird baths all summer. I attempted Stuffed Squash Blossoms for lunch one day ( bit of a disaster-but now I know). I sprinkled lavender and sage and spent marigold deadheads around the edges almost daily. I hand-painted red eyes on duct tape and stuck them on wood and hid them amongst the foliage and illuminated them with a solar light at night (another apparent “deer”terrent). I boasted about my copious crop to my brother (and fellow gardener) on the west coast each time we spoke, and, the piece de resistance…I made my partner pee in a jug in his workshop and sprinkle it around the boat at dusk to fool them into believing danger was close at hand. (Coyote pee supposedly works but I wasn’t up to collecting that.)

None of it worked. My temptation to install an electric fence was almost greater than my compassion for all animals. I had to draw the line somewhere. So, as of this morning, there is the resurrected netting and some extra chicken wire around a group of seven that are sort of huddled together which I have now named Happy, Grumpy, Dopey…I mean Harris, Varley, Jackson, Johnston, Lismer, Casson and Carmichael.

We’re Canadian after all and this is no fairy tale.