Forget Bambi - what does Faline do?

What do our local White-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus texanus) do when night falls, the temperatures drop, and it begins to rain?  Though I rarely see bucks once the rut is over, the female members of the herd are routinely seen hunkered down in a favored spot to wait out daylight and hopefully, warmer temperatures.  (I call this herd "local" because the vast majority of their browsing grounds are contained within though not confined by the geopolitical boundaries of our subdivision.)

One doe in particular seems to have developed a fondness for a patch of ground cover in the unfenced area out front.  I've spotted her there repeatedly, and over the years she has occasionally left fawns there to hide while she was out foraging.

So it was no surprise very early this morning when I noted the motion activated driveway light flipping on periodically, it was because of her.

Is THIS why we call them garden "beds"?

The doe (probably pregnant) stayed quietly in place while the skies lightened, street traffic picked up, and eventually left only after my daughter took her car (parked very close nearby) to leave for morning classes.

Ambient temperatures aside, this bed is sheltered by mature live oak trees overhead and cushioned by a collection of spring-fueled freshly regrown groundcovers underneath.  As outdoor accommodations go, it is not only downright comfy, but the decor is very tasteful.  In every sense of that word.

Is it any wonder the plants out front are nibbled on with regularity?  As far as this doe and her herd are concerned, our front yard is the white-tail equivalent of a three star hotel offering an ongoing "all you can eat" banquet.  

I splash a lot of virtual ink here angrily gritching and moaning about white-tail deer eating, stomping on, and antlering my plants. This time of year, I have a much harder time getting similarly worked up.  At the moment I feel we can all focus on surviving winter first, and once the weather warms for good then we'll see where that finds us.

As you were, little mamas-to-be, as you were.  Carry on and keep warm.

It was as if they were watching...

I recently took down a temporary barrier I'd placed a year or so ago to protect a sumac tree I transplanted into the ground after it became root bound in its pot.

Why the barrier?  I took the sumac from the enclosed back yard and planted it in a spot in the beds out front, where it would get good sunlight but was vulnerable to browsing deer.

I considered leaving the barrier up for another year until the sumac got a little taller.  We were all tired of looking at it though, so I took it down.  I'd rather not even try to have a sumac there if it means our view must include that green plastic barrier.

I'm optimistic the tree is well established enough, a year later, to withstand the inevitable ruminant pruning.  Because most of the time, deer don't kill my plants outright.  They simply eat most of what they've targeted, leaving a remnant to grow seconds.

As captured here.

This afternoon as I went out to get the mail, Bambi was just finishing up and moving on.  Or at least he moved on once I showed up and loudly "suggested" he do so.  What's left of the small sumac is just visible in front of the opuntia and agave in the top left corner of the image.

From fence removal to deer pruning, it took less than seven days.

This little tree has been a tough customer so far.  It will either bounce back, regrow branches and get taller in self defense, or I'll have to try something slightly less deer-licious in that spot.  Talk about a rough micro-climate!


 

No, really, I mean I FORGOT

Lately I've read on a couple of local blogs that some of my favorite gardeners had planted red spider lilies and then forgotten all about them until they saw them in bloom recently.

When they wrote that they'd "forgotten" I believed they meant temporarily.  As in "oh, that's right! I planted those and then forgot about them" which is not to say they really forgot, forgot, they just weren't thinking about the Lycoris radiata they'd planted because they can take up to two years to bloom after planting, and they don't always bloom every year.  One site I consulted playfully hinted aliens from another planet controlled their bloom cycles just to torment earthbound gardeners.  

I looked at their photos of Lycoris in bloom in their posts and remembered I'd seen bulbs for sale when I made my last major nursery buyout.  I think I commented on both sites about how I wished I had picked some up.  Shortly after that my daughter pointed out more bulbs for sale at the big box hardware store where I (almost) always resist buying plants because who knows where they came from?   I agreed they were striking as we passed them by.

As I watched the rain from Tropical Storm Odile wake up heat-idled beds, I was regretting that I hadn't bought any Lycoris bulbs for my own garden spaces.  Sure, I had picked up a couple of new oxblood lily bulbs, and at least one of them began blooming already. But oxblood lilies, as lovely as they are,  just aren't quite as flamboyant as Lycoris.

I had "passed-that-plant-up-regret".  Big time.

Then as I went out to pick up Saturday's mail, you'll probably guess what I spotted out in a front bed close to our mailbox.  Yup.  Lycoris radiata.  I planted them and then forgot about them.  And I do mean FORGOT.  ALL ABOUT THEM.  As in completely, totally, if you'd insisted to me I'd already planted some, I'd call you a liar to your face.  (not really, I wasn't raised that way)

The deer have already bitten one or two flower stalks off neatly at the top.  I'm not sure why I believed all the sites claiming these were deer resistant.  Obviously I was reassured enough to plant the bulbs in jeopardy.  I'd make a joke that the deer don't read the lists of resistant plants but it is too soon.  I'm still way too peeved.

I can only hope Bambi took a bite or two and didn't like them enough to eat any more.  Ever. I hustled to get a couple of shots of the rest of the blooms just in case.  Now I'm trying to decide whether to leave them where they are or to try and move them inside the fence after their blooms fade*.  (*But before I forget.  Again.)

Anybody have any experience transplanting these beauties?  I'm all ears.

I have met the enemy...

...and she is adorable.

I am out shooing white tail deer away from my (apparently delicious) plants out front all the live long day. Though I check whenever I cannot sleep, I have never caught one in the act, but the evidence left behind is clear. Occasionally, grazing deer are coming up to our front porch in the middle of the night and gnawing away at the "decor" right by our front door.

I try not to stay angry with them.  I use "deer resistant" native plants and fence off what I cannot otherwise protect.

They are, after all, natives here, just like I am.  They were here before we moved in, and they'll have relatives here long after we move out (or are buried in the back yard which is the only way I said I'd ever leave).

There is one particular doe who has taken a liking to an area out front.  Year after year she leaves her nursing fawns here to wait for her return as she forages.  I try not to be softened by what I cannot resist interpreting as an act of trust.  I try.  But...

Look at that face.

Look at those gangly legs.

Even as I rue their ongoing determination to reduce some of my plants to ground level nubbins, I cannot help but admit to and even admire the appeal of their young ones.

Reminder:  Watch this blog and many others, perhaps even yours? for the inaugural Wildlife Wednesday, July 2nd, 2014 hosted by Tina at My Gardener Says.