Thursday, March 27, 2014
March Madness
The other day temperatures rose above 50 degrees (F) for the first time in months in my winter-weary patch of grass in upstate New York, so, naturally, I headed outside with a rake. I am an optimist by nature, so although I knew there were still piles of snow peppered around the yard, I marched onto the lawn sans outerwear, opting for just a sweatshirt and sneaks to accompany my high hopes for a fruitful spring cleanup.
Step one changed all that. After my cartoonish slide through a spot of snow, which landed me square on my butt, feet sticking straight up in the air (and no doubt inspiring peals of laughter from any of my neighbors lucky enough to glance out at that exact moment and witness my complete lack of poetry in motion), I hobbled inside, changed my soggy slacks and exchanged the sneakers for my trusty snow boots. Grabbing a shovel, I headed back outside and gingerly shuffled through the snow to the small patch of green--only to discover it was more moss than grass. At the sight of all that green, I saw red!
Now normally a little moss in the mix is nothing to fret over, but my front lawn had become inundated with the stuff the previous year, so I'd painstakingly toiled to alleviate all offenders--cutting back tree branches to allow more sunlight into the area, and spot-treating moss patches to individual doses of white vinegar. I'd also incorporated healthy lawn practices, like aerating with a handheld device, allowing the grass roots the opportunity to expand and grow, and sprinkling an organic corn gluten meal fertilizer over the entire area to provide nourishing nitrogen to the grass while preventing seeds from germinating.
I thought I'd controlled the problem. Back in August, when my neighbor strolled over and actually complimented the appearance of my lawn, I knew a satisfaction 18 years in the making (no kidding, it took me THAT long to get my organic, pesticide-free lawn to actually look as good as the toxin-tanked counterparts around the neighborhood! Hey, no smirking...I never claimed to be a quick learner). Yet, it appeared all my hard work was for naught.
Now I'm not a moss-hater. On the contrary, I've planted it liberally around the stepping-stone path leading from my woods, and it makes a lush, cushy bed to the azalea and forsythia bushes bordering my backyard property line, but in this one little spot out front I perpetually long for the glory of green grass.
So, alternating with shovel and rake, I scooped up and tossed away snow, then gave the ground a good combing to loosen the moss. In the past I have been known to sprinkle baking soda on particularly stubborn patches of moss, to kill them and make the dislodging process a bit easier. I noticed that in late March, with the ground still soggy from the snow, that this step wasn't needed. The moss uprooted quite easily. Another plus to raking up moss in late March: spores develop in April, so if the grass can be cleared of the green stuff just before that, homeowners save themselves countless hours of trying to control new patches popping up all season.
Now all I need is for Mother Nature to hold up her end of the bargain and kick Old Man Winter to the curb for good. Spring's warmer temps and tepid rains provide the best recipe for grass to re-cover-y.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
What's NOT Good for the Goose...
In my most recent post I shared tips for deterring Canada Geese from both municipal and residential areas. One of the things I suggested was to plant a buffer strip of perennials around ponds and lakes. This living barrier, ideally 10-feet-wide around the perimeter of the water feature, discourages the geese from settling in a number of ways: it limits access to the water, impedes their ability to see predators and prevents curiosity, since they don't like to step into the "unknown"--dense grasses and other bushy plant life.
All your efforts will be in vain, though, if you don't install the right kinds of plants. Uninformed choices may actually draw the geese to the site you hope to keep them away from! Remember, the birds are looking for easy access to water and food. Planting items that they eat will provide them a smorgasbord and ensure they make your pond or lake a stop on their North American tour.
Here, my top choices for deterring the determined Canada Geese (ideally for the Northeast):
Acorus Americana; AKA American Sweet Flag: This perennial, zone 3-7, is a moderate spreader, which will slowly fill in around a water feature but not become invasive. It's "fruit" is not tasty to the geese or deer and its citrus-spice scent keeps them from even approaching. Also good for erosion control.
Andropogon gerardii; AKA Big Bluestem: At 6' tall, this zone 3-8 ornamental grass provides ample screening, while offering no food source to geese or deer. Its growth is moderate and it turns a glorious copper color in autumn.
Schizachyrium scoparium; AKA Little Bluestem: This blue-grey clumping grass, which gets 2'-4' tall, has fluffy silver-white seed heads that glimmer in the sun. Attractive to us, the geese and deer are not impressed, and tend to steer clear. Turns a lovely reddish hue in fall. Good in zones 3-8.
Typha latifoilia; AKA Broad-leaf Cat Tail: Most of us have seen the tell-tale brown bottle-brush flower of this pond perennial. It's a perennial favorite for good reason: it prevents erosion around lakes and ponds, and wildlife hate it (especially geese). Best in zones 3-7.
All your efforts will be in vain, though, if you don't install the right kinds of plants. Uninformed choices may actually draw the geese to the site you hope to keep them away from! Remember, the birds are looking for easy access to water and food. Planting items that they eat will provide them a smorgasbord and ensure they make your pond or lake a stop on their North American tour.
Here, my top choices for deterring the determined Canada Geese (ideally for the Northeast):
Acorus Americana; AKA American Sweet Flag: This perennial, zone 3-7, is a moderate spreader, which will slowly fill in around a water feature but not become invasive. It's "fruit" is not tasty to the geese or deer and its citrus-spice scent keeps them from even approaching. Also good for erosion control.
Andropogon gerardii; AKA Big Bluestem: At 6' tall, this zone 3-8 ornamental grass provides ample screening, while offering no food source to geese or deer. Its growth is moderate and it turns a glorious copper color in autumn.
Schizachyrium scoparium; AKA Little Bluestem: This blue-grey clumping grass, which gets 2'-4' tall, has fluffy silver-white seed heads that glimmer in the sun. Attractive to us, the geese and deer are not impressed, and tend to steer clear. Turns a lovely reddish hue in fall. Good in zones 3-8.
Typha latifoilia; AKA Broad-leaf Cat Tail: Most of us have seen the tell-tale brown bottle-brush flower of this pond perennial. It's a perennial favorite for good reason: it prevents erosion around lakes and ponds, and wildlife hate it (especially geese). Best in zones 3-7.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Oh Canada (Geese)!
Spring has arrived! Warmer temps beckon us outside to soak up some rays and enjoy the budding plants and balmy breezes. But we are not alone in our annual rituals. Within a few weeks, we will be inundated with tourists--of the feathered variety. Our pals (or, as some see it, mortal enemies), the Canada Geese (not Canadian Geese--don't ask why, I've no idea) will arrive in droves.
Canada Geese are beautiful birds, who can be admired for their determination. Most of us marvel at the impressive amount of miles they cover migrating between Canada and Mexico each year, and we admire the lovely “V” formation they fly in while completing the annual trek. It's during their many stops along the way that we are less impressed by their habits. Their large flocks temporarily settle around municipal ponds and parks, leaving fecal reminders (up to 2lbs per day per bird!) in their wake and overwhelming other wildlife, like ducks and swans. Our lakes and ponds fall victim to the influx of these birds, prompting officials in many municipalities to reach for their shotguns. But there are humane ways to deter them. Below, a list of the most important measures to take (listed in order of importance) to reduce the influx of Canada geese:
10. IF CREATING A NEW WATER FEATURE, DO NOT INCORPORATE ISLANDS OR
PENNINSULAS, AS THESE QUICKLY BECOME TO SAFE NESTING AREAS. DO
NOT ADD FOUNTAINS. BIRDS ARE ATTRACTED TO THEM.
Canada Geese are beautiful birds, who can be admired for their determination. Most of us marvel at the impressive amount of miles they cover migrating between Canada and Mexico each year, and we admire the lovely “V” formation they fly in while completing the annual trek. It's during their many stops along the way that we are less impressed by their habits. Their large flocks temporarily settle around municipal ponds and parks, leaving fecal reminders (up to 2lbs per day per bird!) in their wake and overwhelming other wildlife, like ducks and swans. Our lakes and ponds fall victim to the influx of these birds, prompting officials in many municipalities to reach for their shotguns. But there are humane ways to deter them. Below, a list of the most important measures to take (listed in order of importance) to reduce the influx of Canada geese:
1.
INCREASE THE NUMBER OF “DO NOT FEED WATERFOWL”
SIGNS AROUND WATER AREAS. PLACEMENT DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF
PARKING AREAS IS IMPERATIVE, AS IS PLACEMENT BY TOWN SIGNS AND ON
COMMUNITY BULLETIN BOARDS. Residents need
to understand that feeding the birds is not helping them, but merely drawing
them to the pond and overwhelming the community. This does not endear them to townsfolk, but
frustrates many by impeding their quality of life in shared community spaces,
leading to drastic measures being taken—like killing the offenders.
2.
REMOVE PICNIC TABLES FROM AROUND WATER AREAS AND REPLACE WITH BENCHES. Food draws the birds in. Remove the ability to picnic right next to ponds and lakes (and remove all but one trash can as well), and the diminished food
supply will cut down on the number of birds congregating around shared water spaces.
3.
CREATE A BUFFER STRIP AROUND COMMUNITY WATER FEATURES CONSISTING
OF TALL, STIFF NATIVE GRASSES, PERENNIALS AND BOULDERS TO DISCOURAGE EASY
ACCESS TO WATER BY GEESE, WHILE STILL ALLOWING RESIDENTS ACCESS TO WATER WITH
RELATIVE EASE .
Natives are less expensive (no need to introduce them to a foreign site
so they will establish properly, thereby reducing the chance of dying and
replacement plants), moisture tolerant and require little or no maintenance
once established. Boulders should be at
least 2’ around in order to be effective.
4.
PLACE 15-20 FOOT-WIDE GRAVEL PATHS AROUND PERIMETERS OF PONDS AND LAKES. A GRAVEL PATH CONSISTING OF SHARP—NOT
ROUNDED—STONES WILL ALLOW COMFORT TO PEDESTRIANS AND DISCOMFORT TO WATERFOWL. The idea is to make the pond accessible to
humans and inaccessible to waterfowl.
Sharp stones are hard to navigate without shoes.
5.
PLANT HIGHLY AROMATIC PLANTS LIKE ARTEMESIA AND
MINT TO DISCOURAGE EGG-LAYING. PLANT CONCORD GRAPE VINES AT THE BASE OF
STRUCTURES (LIKE GAZEBOS AND BRIDGES) TO KEEP GEESE AWAY.
CANADA GEESE DESPISE CONCORD GRAPES AND GEESE REPELLENT SPRAYS USE
CONCORD GRAPES AS THE MAIN INGREDIENT IN THEIR FORMULAS. Also, plant common periwinkle as a
groundcover at peninsula sites and islands. Geese
dislike it and it helps with erosion.
6.
DO NOT PLACE MULCH ANYWHERE AROUND LAKES AND PONDS. CANADA GEESE LOVE TO SETTLE INTO
IT.
7.
KEEP EXISTING GRASS HIGHER THAN NORMAL, MAKING
IT MORE DIFFICULT FOR THE BIRDS TO WALK THROUGH IT.
8.
PERIODICALLY PLACE “PREDATOR” KITES OR BALLOONS
IN NEARBY TREE BRANCHES TO SCARE CANADA GEESE AWAY FORM ISOLATED AREAS. Many companies manufacture these types of
devices. The cost is relatively
inexpensive: about $40-$50 per balloon or kite.
9.
DO NOT
CUT BACK ORNAMENTAL GRASSES IN WINTER.
PLANTS PROVIDE OFF-SEASON “ARCHITECTURAL” INTEREST AND DISCOURAGE EARLY
SPRING ARRIVALS FROM SETTLING.
10. IF CREATING A NEW WATER FEATURE, DO NOT INCORPORATE ISLANDS OR
PENNINSULAS, AS THESE QUICKLY BECOME TO SAFE NESTING AREAS. DO
NOT ADD FOUNTAINS. BIRDS ARE ATTRACTED TO THEM.
Monday, March 10, 2014
Winter's Unlikely Warriors
Nature never fails to amaze anyone who simply takes a moment to marvel. No season impresses me more than winter, especially the bone-weakening winters we have in the Northeastern United States. Most years--this one especially--the winds whip snow into an avalanche of frothy freeze which coats our homes, cars, gardens--anything exposed to their glacial assault. Animals scurry into hibernation, car batteries concede defeat and our home-heating bills skyrocket. Yet some things--some really little things actually--remain astonishingly indifferent to the deep freeze: birds.
Each winter I wonder about these amazing creatures. And never have I wondered more than during this year's arctic plunge, with our near-record-smashing snowfall amounts and single-digit temperature dips. How on Earth can these little creatures not only survive, but thrive? The tiniest Tufted Titmouse can outlast the biggest, fittest, strongest of humans in a head-to-beak competition of element-braving. My hat is off to them--but only figuratively. My silly-looking trapper's cap, complete with faux-fur lining, has been plastered to my head all season. It barely gets a reprieve (I reluctantly place it aside when I shower), while the Black-capped Chickadee's topper is just for show!
Yes, the birds in the winter wonderland (or ice-encrusted site of Armageddon--however you view it) outside my kitchen window may weigh as much as my foggy breath billowing through the winter air, but their spirit, their fortitude and grace against nature's seemingly insurmountable opposition, places them larger than life in my mind. Humbly I scatter a few handfuls of wild bird seed onto the snow around the barberry bushes (which I have always hated, but will perpetually keep because their red berries draw the birds from far and wide--especially Cardinals, Blue Jays, White-throated Sparrows, American Tree Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos), thinking it's the least I can do to repay them for their sweet trilling songs, offering hope in their melodies: Spring will arrive!
Each winter I wonder about these amazing creatures. And never have I wondered more than during this year's arctic plunge, with our near-record-smashing snowfall amounts and single-digit temperature dips. How on Earth can these little creatures not only survive, but thrive? The tiniest Tufted Titmouse can outlast the biggest, fittest, strongest of humans in a head-to-beak competition of element-braving. My hat is off to them--but only figuratively. My silly-looking trapper's cap, complete with faux-fur lining, has been plastered to my head all season. It barely gets a reprieve (I reluctantly place it aside when I shower), while the Black-capped Chickadee's topper is just for show!
Yes, the birds in the winter wonderland (or ice-encrusted site of Armageddon--however you view it) outside my kitchen window may weigh as much as my foggy breath billowing through the winter air, but their spirit, their fortitude and grace against nature's seemingly insurmountable opposition, places them larger than life in my mind. Humbly I scatter a few handfuls of wild bird seed onto the snow around the barberry bushes (which I have always hated, but will perpetually keep because their red berries draw the birds from far and wide--especially Cardinals, Blue Jays, White-throated Sparrows, American Tree Sparrows and Dark-eyed Juncos), thinking it's the least I can do to repay them for their sweet trilling songs, offering hope in their melodies: Spring will arrive!
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Prepping the Garden for a Long Winter's Nap
All the leaves have fallen and the last of my autumn sedum have bloomed and now wither in the harsh November winds. It was a good run in the garden this season: a marathon of blossoming perennials competed with Iron Man will for my attention amid the stout sedges, prolific shrubs and sensual sway of a wide variety of perennial grasses. They all garnered a place in the sun but now must surrender to the increasing shadows of late fall, a well-deserved resting season.
I always think on this time of year with a mental sigh--part wistful longing for those long summer days gone by and part anticipation of the snowy blanket to cover the landscape and force my activities cheerfully indoors--and I know that I must put my garden to bed.
I look toward the veggies first. Thankfully, radishes, carrots, parsnips, garlic, leeks, horseradish and turnips have not yet arrived at the end of their productive lives. They can be harvested into early winter with a little care: simply cover them well with oak leaves to keep the ground from thawing and be sure to mark them with sticks so they can be located in case of heavy snowfall. All other vegetable plants must be tossed on the compost heap (unless they are diseased, in which case they can be burned).
I have some hearty herbs as well. I've put the parsley in the garage for the winter because it can get quite finicky about temperatures going below freezing. But my potted thyme, sage, oregano and chives benefitted last year from a warm spot up against the house and a cozy layer of leaves. I think this strategy will work again, barring an unseasonably cold winter.
Since I've already removed my potted annuals and placed the bulbs and tubers of many "warm weather" plants (like my dahlias and cannas) on newspaper to dry out, I now have a garage full of plants that take up all the room I will need to store my cars come that first heavy snowfall. Bulbs and tubers I gently dust and place in paper bags (never plastic, as this will trap moisture and rot them) and my beloved dozens of geraniums will get some tough love: a tender tearing away from their pots. I will disengage the plants from the soil (I like to use my hands and a fork so as not to damage too many roots), bundle them together and hang the plants upside down in my basement (an ideal spot for overwintering geraniums). Come spring, I will cut the remnants of these plants back and replant them in their familiar pots with new, freshly fertilized soil. This practice, as barbarian as it seems, is actually an ideal way to hang onto my plants for many, many years. I am usually able to retain about 80% of each plant. And they grow back to twice their original size by summer's end.
Finally I look to my sentimental favorites: my perennial flowers. Most of these will get cut back to about 3" once the ground freezes and I will protect them with a generous layer of oak leaves and straw. I pay special attention to my peonies, which must die back to nothing but dead, brown leaves before I cut the foliage. Yet peonies are picky and to look their best, I must remember they like things a certain way every year. I am diligent about cutting all the foliage to the ground because hanging onto the remnants exposes the foliage--and entire plant bed to gray mold. The last thing I do for the peonies is wish them a nice cold slumber and hope that the winter is sufficiently chilly for my longed-for profusion of peony blooms come spring. Peonies need a sufficient number of days where the thermometer reads below 40 degrees in order to bloom to their full potential.
There is a very notable exception to my perennial beds' drastic autumn haircuts: my hydrangea bushes. Not all the bushes, just the hydrangeas that bloom pink, blue or purple. These mop head and lace cap varieties (called macrophylla) bloom on "old wood" (translation: foliage that formed before the current growing season) and have new flower heads already formed. Ask a friend or neighbor about hydrangeas and you are sure to hear someone gripe about their hydrangea bush not blooming but looking otherwise great. It's because they cut off all the old wood. The white-flowered hydrangeas bloom on "new wood" (foliage formed this year) so they are fine to cut back in fall (these white-bloomed varieties are the pee gee (paniculata) and Annabelle (arborescens) types. Of course there is even an exception to the exception: the oak leaf hydrangea, which has white blooms but grows on old wood.
Last but not least, I tend to the tools of any gardeners trade: my garden utensils. I carefully clean all items before I put them away for the season and then I quickly wipe the metal implements with a light coat of vegetable oil to keep them from rusting. Now I can settle in for a cozy winter season knowing that come spring my garden will burst forth in a bounty of healthy, gorgeous new growth.
I always think on this time of year with a mental sigh--part wistful longing for those long summer days gone by and part anticipation of the snowy blanket to cover the landscape and force my activities cheerfully indoors--and I know that I must put my garden to bed.
I look toward the veggies first. Thankfully, radishes, carrots, parsnips, garlic, leeks, horseradish and turnips have not yet arrived at the end of their productive lives. They can be harvested into early winter with a little care: simply cover them well with oak leaves to keep the ground from thawing and be sure to mark them with sticks so they can be located in case of heavy snowfall. All other vegetable plants must be tossed on the compost heap (unless they are diseased, in which case they can be burned).
I have some hearty herbs as well. I've put the parsley in the garage for the winter because it can get quite finicky about temperatures going below freezing. But my potted thyme, sage, oregano and chives benefitted last year from a warm spot up against the house and a cozy layer of leaves. I think this strategy will work again, barring an unseasonably cold winter.
Since I've already removed my potted annuals and placed the bulbs and tubers of many "warm weather" plants (like my dahlias and cannas) on newspaper to dry out, I now have a garage full of plants that take up all the room I will need to store my cars come that first heavy snowfall. Bulbs and tubers I gently dust and place in paper bags (never plastic, as this will trap moisture and rot them) and my beloved dozens of geraniums will get some tough love: a tender tearing away from their pots. I will disengage the plants from the soil (I like to use my hands and a fork so as not to damage too many roots), bundle them together and hang the plants upside down in my basement (an ideal spot for overwintering geraniums). Come spring, I will cut the remnants of these plants back and replant them in their familiar pots with new, freshly fertilized soil. This practice, as barbarian as it seems, is actually an ideal way to hang onto my plants for many, many years. I am usually able to retain about 80% of each plant. And they grow back to twice their original size by summer's end.
Finally I look to my sentimental favorites: my perennial flowers. Most of these will get cut back to about 3" once the ground freezes and I will protect them with a generous layer of oak leaves and straw. I pay special attention to my peonies, which must die back to nothing but dead, brown leaves before I cut the foliage. Yet peonies are picky and to look their best, I must remember they like things a certain way every year. I am diligent about cutting all the foliage to the ground because hanging onto the remnants exposes the foliage--and entire plant bed to gray mold. The last thing I do for the peonies is wish them a nice cold slumber and hope that the winter is sufficiently chilly for my longed-for profusion of peony blooms come spring. Peonies need a sufficient number of days where the thermometer reads below 40 degrees in order to bloom to their full potential.
There is a very notable exception to my perennial beds' drastic autumn haircuts: my hydrangea bushes. Not all the bushes, just the hydrangeas that bloom pink, blue or purple. These mop head and lace cap varieties (called macrophylla) bloom on "old wood" (translation: foliage that formed before the current growing season) and have new flower heads already formed. Ask a friend or neighbor about hydrangeas and you are sure to hear someone gripe about their hydrangea bush not blooming but looking otherwise great. It's because they cut off all the old wood. The white-flowered hydrangeas bloom on "new wood" (foliage formed this year) so they are fine to cut back in fall (these white-bloomed varieties are the pee gee (paniculata) and Annabelle (arborescens) types. Of course there is even an exception to the exception: the oak leaf hydrangea, which has white blooms but grows on old wood.
Last but not least, I tend to the tools of any gardeners trade: my garden utensils. I carefully clean all items before I put them away for the season and then I quickly wipe the metal implements with a light coat of vegetable oil to keep them from rusting. Now I can settle in for a cozy winter season knowing that come spring my garden will burst forth in a bounty of healthy, gorgeous new growth.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Our 19 New Pets
I've often wondered about the human propensity to make all living creatures, well, human. That, is, to attribute human characteristics to any animate object around us, giving them personalities and lifestyles like one reads in children's books or cartoon strips. And these tales--from the likes of Beatrix Potter's Peter Rabbit to Jim Davis' Garfield--tend to mirror our own, very human, lives.
We all do it. And it has nothing to do with intellect-or lack of it. It's emotional--and all too human. I won't even illustrate my point with my two Shih Zhu pooches...we've pretty much convinced them that they are human (there I go, persuading you that they even understand the concept). I call them my babies. Enough said.
Then there's the rabbit. My daughter is convinced that the rabbit "loves" me best because she follows me everywhere I go: upstairs, downstairs, onto the sofa or under my bedcovers. My daughter disregards the obvious reason--I am the only one in the house who feeds the critter--preferring to believe that the rabbit has cultivated a deep, emotional, human attachment to me. And when I'm snuggling beside her, running my fingers through her soft, furry pelt, don't I buy right into the idea? Of course! That little bunny really does love me best!
If we could contain our little predilection for humanizing our pets to the privacy of our own home, we'd never have to endure the amused teasing of friends and family, but we must love the punishment because we've taken our cockeyed notions to the great outdoors. Our newly built pond is now the hub of all humanizing efforts--namely the frogs who mysteriously appeared in a "build it and they will come" sort of way last spring.
The first to show up was a big green guy with a brown face and my hubby dubbed him "Sir Edmund." Not too crazy, right? Naming a frog? I mean, just like the man who was first to climb Everest, this fellow was a trailblazer. Perhaps more frogs would follow. They did. Big ones, little ones, green ones, brown ones, solid ones, striped and dotted ones. We sit at the pond on a lazy Saturday afternoon counting the many frogs frolicking among the plants and stones and we sigh with nostalgia because it reminds us of a favorite childhood activity: counting the hidden pictures in our Highlights magazines.
One day my husband arrived home from work to find me out by the pond scooping up algae. I told him Mr. Grouchy was acting up again, stirring up the whole frog clan with his loud croaking. My husband nodded sagely, knowing exactly which frog I was referring to and it was then that I realized
we'd probably gone off the deep end of our proverbial pond.
But we, like every other animal lover in the world, are undeterred. We'll probably always speak in "baby talk" to a puppy and feel special every time a duck eats a cracker straight from our outstretched hand. We'll always be convinced that the animal world is interested in joining our human existence. In fact, as I write this, I see the fattest Robin going to town in our backyard birdbath. Will you look at the way he shimmies and shakes? He's really trying to get his undercarriage clean! Come to think of it, we really need to get a book on birds...figure out how we can get them to nest in our eaves....
We all do it. And it has nothing to do with intellect-or lack of it. It's emotional--and all too human. I won't even illustrate my point with my two Shih Zhu pooches...we've pretty much convinced them that they are human (there I go, persuading you that they even understand the concept). I call them my babies. Enough said.
Then there's the rabbit. My daughter is convinced that the rabbit "loves" me best because she follows me everywhere I go: upstairs, downstairs, onto the sofa or under my bedcovers. My daughter disregards the obvious reason--I am the only one in the house who feeds the critter--preferring to believe that the rabbit has cultivated a deep, emotional, human attachment to me. And when I'm snuggling beside her, running my fingers through her soft, furry pelt, don't I buy right into the idea? Of course! That little bunny really does love me best!
If we could contain our little predilection for humanizing our pets to the privacy of our own home, we'd never have to endure the amused teasing of friends and family, but we must love the punishment because we've taken our cockeyed notions to the great outdoors. Our newly built pond is now the hub of all humanizing efforts--namely the frogs who mysteriously appeared in a "build it and they will come" sort of way last spring.
The first to show up was a big green guy with a brown face and my hubby dubbed him "Sir Edmund." Not too crazy, right? Naming a frog? I mean, just like the man who was first to climb Everest, this fellow was a trailblazer. Perhaps more frogs would follow. They did. Big ones, little ones, green ones, brown ones, solid ones, striped and dotted ones. We sit at the pond on a lazy Saturday afternoon counting the many frogs frolicking among the plants and stones and we sigh with nostalgia because it reminds us of a favorite childhood activity: counting the hidden pictures in our Highlights magazines.
One day my husband arrived home from work to find me out by the pond scooping up algae. I told him Mr. Grouchy was acting up again, stirring up the whole frog clan with his loud croaking. My husband nodded sagely, knowing exactly which frog I was referring to and it was then that I realized
we'd probably gone off the deep end of our proverbial pond.
But we, like every other animal lover in the world, are undeterred. We'll probably always speak in "baby talk" to a puppy and feel special every time a duck eats a cracker straight from our outstretched hand. We'll always be convinced that the animal world is interested in joining our human existence. In fact, as I write this, I see the fattest Robin going to town in our backyard birdbath. Will you look at the way he shimmies and shakes? He's really trying to get his undercarriage clean! Come to think of it, we really need to get a book on birds...figure out how we can get them to nest in our eaves....
Friday, July 12, 2013
Critter Conundrum
It's always around this time of year when thoughts turn to wildlife. Perhaps it's because flowers are in full bloom and everyone is gazing at nature's glory unleashed in living color across back yards around the world. We ohhh and ahhh at foliage and blooms, then pause when we see a section of buds ripped away from a beloved plant. Our brows furrow, our teeth clench...critters have come calling on our doorstep and we don't welcome their visit!
So, what to do to discourage them without harm to their well-being and our collective conscience? I've done a little digging around and have come up with the most recommended methods of non-toxic pest control available. They are as follows:
Deer and Rabbits:
Liquid Fence. I couldn't discover what is actually in this product but it smells absolutely vile. Can't blame our furry friends for keeping their distance. It claims to be eco-friendly and my clients swear by its effectiveness. Available everywhere.
I Must Garden Deer Repellent. All-natural and available at garden centers, hardware stores and natural food stores. Also check out: www.imustgarden.com.
Critter Ridder. This irritant repels by odor and taste and lasts up to 30 days. Be warned: DO NOT spray this product if there is even a slight breeze. I learned this lesson the hard way (my eyes are still stinging at the memory of my run-in with this spray coupled with a spring breeze). Available everywhere.
Homemade remedies have some effectiveness as well. The president of our local arboretum suggests a quarter cup of veggie oil, a tablespoon of dish soap and one egg mixed in a spray bottle and doused over plants periodically. I have had good luck with this method. Milk has also worked for me. In winter, I fill a standard spray bottle with half water, half milk (doesn't matter what percent) and spritz plants--particularly my oakleaf hydrangea because deer nibble the buds in the off-season and then I have no blooms come summer. I switch to full-strength in the warm months, filling a bottle full of whatever milk I have in the fridge and spraying it liberally around the yard.
Insects and bugs:
Some of my clients swear by a product called Sluggo, which targets slugs, snails, earwigs, cutworms, sowbugs and pillbugs. Made from iron phosphate, which is a compound which combines phosphorous and oxygen with iron. It is coupled with spinosad, a naturally occurring bacterium in soil. The product is considered safe by and large but the jury is still out on this one. The iron phosphate is poisonous to slug bellies and has been known to make pets sick. For this reason I cannot fully recommend it. Do your homework. If your studies show effectiveness without toxicity, give it a try. I am not yet prepared to endorse it. I need to investigate further.
Some all-natural alternatives, which boast botanical oils as their staples, include: Green Light Rose Defense (especially good for powdery mildew, blackspot, rust, spider mites and aphids), All Seasons Horticultural & Dormant Spray and Bioneem. I also recommend mosquito dunks with Bacillus thuringiensis as the active ingredient.
Moles:
Liquid Fence Mole Repellent coats mole food sources--earthworms and tender roots--with an unappealing (but not poisonous) substance that forces them to look elsewhere for food sources and keeps them away from your garden. This has been known to discourage chipmunks as well.
Gophers/groundhogs:
These creatures have become the bane of my existence. They are hearty and headstrong and have been known to gnaw through all manner of plants and barriers--even wood fencing! My solution is to make my yard as uncomfortable as possible for them. Place sharp shell fragments around plants because gophers' toes are tender! Spray stinky solutions on leaves but be warned that's not always a deterrent when a groundhog is determined to defoliate. I witnessed one going to town on my basil plants last summer! The final line of defense is steel fencing--chicken wire is okay. Perhaps best of all is a motion-activated sprinkler, which spritzes them with a harsh shot of water. None of us--man nor beast--likes that!
So, what to do to discourage them without harm to their well-being and our collective conscience? I've done a little digging around and have come up with the most recommended methods of non-toxic pest control available. They are as follows:
Deer and Rabbits:
Liquid Fence. I couldn't discover what is actually in this product but it smells absolutely vile. Can't blame our furry friends for keeping their distance. It claims to be eco-friendly and my clients swear by its effectiveness. Available everywhere.
I Must Garden Deer Repellent. All-natural and available at garden centers, hardware stores and natural food stores. Also check out: www.imustgarden.com.
Critter Ridder. This irritant repels by odor and taste and lasts up to 30 days. Be warned: DO NOT spray this product if there is even a slight breeze. I learned this lesson the hard way (my eyes are still stinging at the memory of my run-in with this spray coupled with a spring breeze). Available everywhere.
Homemade remedies have some effectiveness as well. The president of our local arboretum suggests a quarter cup of veggie oil, a tablespoon of dish soap and one egg mixed in a spray bottle and doused over plants periodically. I have had good luck with this method. Milk has also worked for me. In winter, I fill a standard spray bottle with half water, half milk (doesn't matter what percent) and spritz plants--particularly my oakleaf hydrangea because deer nibble the buds in the off-season and then I have no blooms come summer. I switch to full-strength in the warm months, filling a bottle full of whatever milk I have in the fridge and spraying it liberally around the yard.
Insects and bugs:
Some of my clients swear by a product called Sluggo, which targets slugs, snails, earwigs, cutworms, sowbugs and pillbugs. Made from iron phosphate, which is a compound which combines phosphorous and oxygen with iron. It is coupled with spinosad, a naturally occurring bacterium in soil. The product is considered safe by and large but the jury is still out on this one. The iron phosphate is poisonous to slug bellies and has been known to make pets sick. For this reason I cannot fully recommend it. Do your homework. If your studies show effectiveness without toxicity, give it a try. I am not yet prepared to endorse it. I need to investigate further.
Some all-natural alternatives, which boast botanical oils as their staples, include: Green Light Rose Defense (especially good for powdery mildew, blackspot, rust, spider mites and aphids), All Seasons Horticultural & Dormant Spray and Bioneem. I also recommend mosquito dunks with Bacillus thuringiensis as the active ingredient.
Moles:
Liquid Fence Mole Repellent coats mole food sources--earthworms and tender roots--with an unappealing (but not poisonous) substance that forces them to look elsewhere for food sources and keeps them away from your garden. This has been known to discourage chipmunks as well.
Gophers/groundhogs:
These creatures have become the bane of my existence. They are hearty and headstrong and have been known to gnaw through all manner of plants and barriers--even wood fencing! My solution is to make my yard as uncomfortable as possible for them. Place sharp shell fragments around plants because gophers' toes are tender! Spray stinky solutions on leaves but be warned that's not always a deterrent when a groundhog is determined to defoliate. I witnessed one going to town on my basil plants last summer! The final line of defense is steel fencing--chicken wire is okay. Perhaps best of all is a motion-activated sprinkler, which spritzes them with a harsh shot of water. None of us--man nor beast--likes that!
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