My Helpers

My husband has constructed a timber planter box. Unfortunately he took out some of my favorite plants to put this rather large thing right behind the front of our patio for maximum sunlight. At the moment it’s a bit of an eyesore since the wood is untreated and looks way too new amidst weathered timbers and rusty iron bedsteads, which it seems to obscure. I’d wanted him to put it on the side of the patio where it wouldn’t have been as obtrusive, but he didn’t think that there would be enough sun for his saffron (go figure). Of course there would have been I argued, but to no avail. He was dead set on building something that was quite roomy (far more than what he needs for the saffron) and the upshot was that he was going to leave this open until November, when it will be time to pull his saffron out of the ground in one of the plots in the back garden and replant it in this box. Currently there are some big trees blocking the light in that plot and the saffron needs to be moved. But there’s so few of them and they can easily go into a small area of this planter box when the time comes. In the meantime however I certainly have different plans for it. 

So today I attempted to plant some seedlings I’ve acquired. But my darling garden guru had put down wheat seeds in the planter box a couple of days before, to get the hens and roosters in there to break up the clods of composted soil and sheep droppings. And boy did they break it up, excavating it to beat the band, mixing it to a fine tilth. And they went to town digging in that dirt for most of two days, until the weather permitted my planting. So my new problem was that every time I turned my back on them, the birds decided to make a run for it into the planter box, thus taking out what I just put into it. Eventually they just sort of waited in the vicinity around me, well after I made myself hoarse screaming at them to get out of there. But they tried every trick in the book and a few more, like approaching from the side to climb into the dampened dark soil. 

When I woke up this morning and looked at the planter box I saw that John had been forced to take severe measures. Apparently before he got up the chickens had a blast sitting on top of the flimsy chicken wire he’d placed on top of the planter the night before. So my baby plants didn’t look so hot and some had been pecked through the chicken wire. Hence executive action was called for.  John placed a bunch of random metal grids that we keep around the place to dissuade any wandering pests from entering that area. But his decision to throw seed in there had certainly complicated the original problem of these clucking marauders, which is that in their beady little eyes, nothing is off limits to them.

But surely he set them up, and confused our feathered helpers by enticing their participation in the first place. Then we reversed course, which really threw them.  Such hypocrisy on our part. But this flock has outsmarted me at every turn. I guess that doesn’t bode well for me, but I don’t care if I don’t win a popularity contest with them. I just wish I could plant my plants without having them dug up continually. And I wish I didn’t have to have fortresses all around my cascading beauties. I like a natural look where everything just flows.  But what I get instead is that everything just goes. They eat everything in sight that I plant if it's not covered properly, sometimes disposing of the plantlets before I plant them if there's a hole in the chicken wire. My avian geniuses find any vulnerable plant and finish it off. So even when we do cover our seedlings up, they still manage to help themselves to some snacks. So who exactly are the bird brains here? Hmm. I think I know. Cluck.