Voracious vermin
Detective work and a camera catches garden raiders in the act
I should have known better. Who did I think I was fooling by replacing a vermin-riddled cold-frame with a new cedar planter filled with tasty heirloom tomatoes? I was so naive, now I know better.
Let me start at the beginning. I used to love feeding the birds, I’d fill the feeders on winter mornings and watch the activity: sparrows, house finches, mourning doves, cardinals, blue-jays even the occasional woodpecker frequented our feeders.
When a clever squirrel started to raid the feeder, I was able to deter him with a squirrel-proof feeder. He could still help himself to the spilled seed on the ground, like our resident bunny did in a pinch. Things started to take a turn for the worse when a rat appeared on our deck. The feeder was quickly decommissioned, but the pattern was set.
Fast forward to spring and I’ve planted a row or two of early lettuce in the cold frame along the south facing wall of the house. Holes the size of an egg appeared in the loose soil, and before long the lettuce was history. The soil was riddled with a series of tunnels. Rats? Mice? I wasn’t sure, but I caught sight of a pair of beady black eyes and the end of a tail as the beast high tailed down the tunnel to safety. Not quite sure who was the most startled, me or the beast.
We set up traps and dismantled the cold frame.
Word spread about the good hunting at the Fortes, and a stream of cats visited our place. I’d spot them stalking unseen prey around the back garden, as if on safari, or sunning themselves on the bench. I didn’t mind, I thought they would help keep the riffraff at bay.
Once winter set in and the ground was covered with snow, I tentatively started feeding the birds again. Looking back, that was a big mistake, but I love watching the birds while I enjoy a leisurely coffee on the weekend. Is that so bad?
When the snow melted, tell-tale tunnels directed rodent traffic to entry points beneath our deck — the vermin had set up housekeeping again. The feeders were decommissioned, but it was too late. About this same time, I overheard a conversation at the local garden centre about rodent infestations, how they loved cedar mulch and ground covers (our garden had plenty of both).
Let me say here that I am not a fan of using poison to eliminate the rodent problem. I worry about the local cats, bunnies and even birds of prey being poisoned along with the troublesome rodents. I sheared the ground covers after they bloomed to open up obvious hiding places, and avoided cedar mulch. Other than the occasional vermin sighting, we seemed to be avoiding each other, live and let live, I thought.
MEET THE AUTHOR
Theresa Forte will present “Creative Garden Solutions for Challenging Sites” to Fort Erie Horticultural Society on Tuesday, Sept. 11, at 7 p.m. at the seniors centre on High Street. Hope to see you there.
This year, I planted 12 containers of tomatoes, most were heirloom varieties that you would never find in a grocery store. Each plant was chosen for its distinctive form, colour and above all, delicious flavour. Throughout the season, the tomatoes were meticulously trained on wire cages and the metal lattice above the cedar planter. They were treated to a regimen of organic fertilizer and watered religiously, the plants flourished. My first harvest yielded a half-dozen tomato varieties: Annas Noire, Big Rainbow, Sugar Rush, Sweet Gold, Sweet Million and the first of a bountiful crop of Midnight Snack. They had each fulfilled their promise of interesting shape, colour and delicious flavours. Six more tomato varieties had yet to ripen, I was looking forward to a bountiful late harvest. Life was good.
By the third week of August, the fairy tale crop was beginning to unravel. Nibble marks appeared on some of the fruit, a flock of sparrows lit on the property line around dinner time each night. I suspected they were eating the fruit — a little research suggested birds will raid tomatoes during a drought. In an attempt to fend off the birds, I wrapped the tomatoes with plastic mesh fencing, securing the barrier with twine. Thirty dollars worth of netting seemed a wise investment.
The following morning, I noticed several tomatoes along the wall had nibble marks despite the netting. Perhaps the netting wasn’t secure enough? More netting and extra twine tightened any gaps. Two days later, I stepped outside to pick a few tomatoes and couldn’t believe my eyes — not a tomato in sight. My entire crop of heirloom tomatoes was gone. Stolen just as they were ready to harvest: ripe, juicy, luscious fruit. Gone. All gone, save a handful of tiny, bullet hard, green tomatoes. Scoundrels! Thieves!
After I settled down, I noticed there were still a few tomatoes left on the patio. I collected the ripe fruit, but left the fruit with obvious nibbles in place. I set up my camera and kept a lookout. I wanted to capture the thief in action — it didn’t take long.
Across the patio I saw one of the tomato plants quivering, as if the wind was stirring the leaves. I grabbed the camera and snapped a few quick shots with a long lens before the thief took cover. The shot revealed, not one, but two vermin, piggy-back style engorging themselves on a Super Marzano tomato. The greedy scoundrels came back several times, decimating the fruit until only a transparent tomato shell remained.
The following morning, down came the netting, cages and every trace of the tomato plants. It was a cathartic exercise to purge the violated crop and fill the planters with fresh autumn colour: kale, mums, asters, ornamental peppers, pansies and dusty miller. I’ve reclaimed the patio for the time being, I’ll keep you posted.
Have you battled mice and rats in your vegetable garden? I’d be interested to hear what worked for you. Drop me a line at theresa_forte@sympatico.ca.