Mission to keep deer out of garden wanes as plants succumb to autumn

One never knows the true fortitude of a woman’s will until one witnesses her pitted in a grand battle against nature. OK, all right, so “grand” is a bit of a stretch. But “battle,” my friend, is not too strong a word, as local deer will kindly report.

My story falls on many sympathetic ears, I know, since my plight to save various garden crops from the plundering jaws of area white-tailed deer – like the plight of so many Maine gardeners – started as soon as the ground thawed and succulent wisps of green leaves sprang forth from the ground. Late April it was, when I first trod through the garden. Giant craters were found throughout the warming soil where skinny deer appendages plunged every garden bed.

Stubby, gnawed leaves of chicory attempted regrowth in one bed. Stems, mere naked stalks, of cranesbill were stripped of their pretty leaves. The withering roots of cowslip pointed skyward; the tender plants had been ripped right out of the ground, ruthlessly munched and tossed aside for a more delectable morsel of hollyhock.

The blood pressure started to rise. The nerves began to fray. The battle had begun.

This whole scene was history repeating itself. I’d witnessed and tolerated this damage in past years. But not this time.

No more Mrs. Nice Guy.

I borrowed a complete fencing system from my father, and installed the poly-wire strands on fiberglass posts around the garden. I inserted posts into the ground at each corner of the garden and set a few more along the outer edges of the garden between the corner posts. Two strands of the ropelike fence were strung from post to post – one at about the shoulder height of a deer, the other a bit lower, at about knee height of a deer.

Like a sick, mad scientist, I delightfully hooked up a fence charger to the whole apparatus, sending out 120 volts of pulsing electricity through the fence line. “That will show them who’s boss!” I said to myself, rubbing my hands together with certainty.

Every evening at dusk, I went out to turn the charger on. Every morning at dawn, I trudged through dew-soaked grass to turn the charger off, crawled between the fence wires and inspected for damage. Not a speck could be found. Not one bit of evidence of munching. Blissful delight, I had them nailed!

Then one evening, I was away from home until after dark. I needed to turn the charger on in the dark, so I pulled into the drive and shined my headlights to the spot where the charger was mounted on a post. On the other side of the garden, INSIDE THE FENCE, glinty eyes stared into my headlights. Four plump does were munching on my lavatera.

I leaped out of the car in fury and without really thinking twice about it charged after the naughty deer, ranting ill wishes at them as I madly waved my arms in sheer rage and – quite pointlessly – ran after them through a pasture.

After my little temper tantrum, I returned to the charger and turned it on at the highest setting. In the morning, I recharged the battery and afterward religiously monitored the charger for months, turning it on every evening and inspecting for damage every morning. So long as the regime was followed, the deer never returned.

Along about midsummer, I became battle-weary. Tired of the whole setup and having disrupted the pattern of deer behavior, I thought it safe to remove the fence. So one day I sneaked out into the garden. I quietly and quickly pulled it down so as to not alert the wildlife. Daily I inspected the garden, and to my delight, no deer damage was found.

Until this week. I don’t know why, with literally tons of acorns and miles of browse around this place they have to maul my garden, but they have. Unfortunately, the enormity of my will has grossly subsided. Not only do I suffer battle fatigue, I suffer garden fatigue. It’s easy to want to protect your plants in spring when their lives look so promising and they have so much beauty ahead of them.

But in October, with the last lackluster flowers and only but a few tough-skinned tomatoes, my battle-rage will has transformed to a meek prayer for a hard frost.

Diana George Chapin is the NEWS garden columnist. Send horticulture questions to Gardening Questions, 512 North Ridge Road, Montville 04941 or e-mail dianagc@midcoast.com. Selected questions will be answered in future columns. Include name, address and telephone number.