BUCKS and DOES
Tawny
brown
four
legs bound
white
tail rebounds
up
and down.
Not
chased by hounds.
Making
no sound
these
creatures brown
grazing
around
or
jumping, bound
through
country towns.
Small
ones hop around.
Large
ones bound.
Both
eat pounds and pounds
down
to the ground.
Gardeners
frown.
Both
are called bucks and does,
otherwise
known as foes -
there’s
other names, I suppose.
They
cause gardeners woe
through
each season. I well know.
Some
of these foes
have
hoofs for toes.
Others
having toenails that grow
are
found hopping down on the ground low.
After
consuming, turds are left below.
Peter cottontails, sometimes
not dear,
with
Bambi's relatives called deer,
cause
many problems far and near
for
gardeners year after year.
A
gardener's jeer you might hear.
Bucks
and does are rabbits or deer.
To
gardeners, unwelcome – that's clear,
unless
they obtain a license to hunt each year,
then
you'll see pointed antlers hanging next to the mirror
or
smell rabbit stew tenderized with a can of beer.
Gardeners
devise many jeers
to
discourage rabbits and deer
to
not reappear,
but
never fear -
they
will return next year.
These
rabbits and deer
know
where their dinner
awaits
for free, that's clear.
Dedicated
hunters peer and wait near
for
their free dinner to appear.
A
happy ending for someone.
Sounds
like the gardener won
if
he's a hunter with a gun,
for
just one bang from the gun
bucks
and does will quickly run.
Though
bucks and does will come
back
one night after the sun
goes
down over the mountain.
They
feast until the dark night is gone.
The
gardener turned hunter acts stunned.
This
true tale
of
white tails
never
fails
here
in my dale
as
this gardener wails.
These
males and females
travel
hills and dales
then
in my yard hail
as
over the fence some sail
or
under the gate others bail.
Every
season
another
reason
to
fight treason.
From
east to westward on
gardeners
are not fond.
Someone's
applied lessons
always
seem to fail in my gardens.
Though
for a short time they're gone
bucks
and does live on,
though
not welcomed.
As
this tale goes...
bucks
and does
are
my foes -
those
white tailed does
or
bucks who mow...
between the rows
of
what gardeners grow.
Especially
hostas growing low,
tulips,
azaleas, even a rose,
or
whatever you can suppose.
Or
to my woe
sprouted
seeds sowed
where
yesterday just hoed.
This
tale comes to a close
but
not the sorrow
caused
by bucks and does.
*
* * * *
There is Someone who knows
all
about your sorrows.
He
knows
your
woes.
Up
from the grave He arose
in
order to defeat your foes.
Read
the book of Romans today then you'll know
how
Jesus defeated your foes long ago.
Wait.
Don't go
until
you know
this
story of old
that's
true and grows
more
relevant as you go
down
your life's unknown road.
I
was overcome by trouble and sorrow.
Then
I called on the name of the Lord:
“O
Lord, save me!”
Psalm
116:3b-4
But
you, O God, do see trouble and grief;
you
consider it to take it in hand.
Psalm
10:14
True
story: Early one May morning in 2020, when looking out the sliding
glass door, I said out loud, “Those are funny looking bunny ears.”
So with camera in hand I went out to investigate. To my astonishment
a newborn fawn lay hidden beneath the oak-loaf hydrangea. The entire
back yard is fenced in. Mama had to jump over to give birth. Mama
came back that morning, but because I was watching from the deck she
did not jump over to feed her baby. The fawn tried over and over to
reach mama but the fence prohibited. Finally baby collapsed with
exhaustion. Later I saw the fawn had returned to the original hiding
place its mother had selected.
Around
lunchtime I was looking out the kitchen window and I said again,
“Those are funny looking bunny ears.” A second fawn, much
smaller than the first one, was hidden under a lilac. Its mother also
returned later and baby tried to go to her through the fence. A lot
of bleating commenced but fences prohibited re-connection. The fawn’s
legs became very trembly as it tried and tried, collapsing in
exhaustion.
Later
when it was getting dark I opened the gates for the mothers to
reconnect, but it would have been an ordeal for the babies to figure
out, so I carried the larger one to the south side where its mother
had returned placing it in the daffodil bed. Then carried the tiny
one to the north side where its mother had returned placing in the
vinca. By then it was dusk. Watching I could see their dark outlines
and hear their hooves crossing the road and go toward the creek.
Thankfully, no traffic.
Apparently
the mothers thought this was a safe place to give birth, maybe even a
pretty place to give birth, and definitely a place to find
nourishment after giving birth. But seemingly didn’t consider how
they would maneuver the babies out of the fence. When I shared the
above story I was scolded for touching the babies. I didn’t pet
them, I handled as little as possible. They weighed next to nothing.
All ears and legs. I knew they needed to eat. Their mothers didn’t
reject. And I have another memory to share with you.
It
seems the mother’s learned their lesson not to give birth inside
the fence here as haven’t discovered “funny looking bunny ears”
since that day.
-
- - - -
This
morning I discovered wild violet leaves, amaranth, sunflowers were
chowed down. I haven’t been spraying due to reported rain showers
daily, though not necessarily materialized. Gardeners must be
dedicated and persistent, as are deer.
Regarding
deer, who are known to carry ticks, in 2024 my mother seemed to have
a flu virus of cold chills, sweats, no appetite, extreme exhaustion,
more. After 10 days she agree to see the doctor who sent her to the
ER. After more than 8 hours of ruling out other possibilities,
someone suggested a tick test. Five days later she learned she did
not have lyme, but a tick-spread infection. Ten days of antibiotics
were the solution – and to keep a prescription on hand if another
tick bite occurs.
Take
time to google for remedies to discourage/annihilate ticks from
inhabiting your property. Be safe.
Life Is a Garden Party
is available via Amazon.
This story is in Vol V, available September 2024.
