When we moved to a farm in the High Rockies, I was thrilled to live among the wildlife. Every day was a mountain safari: A spotted cat rested in a tree. Deer thundered past the window at night. A bald eagle flew in the clouds. It was all just heavenly!
Until I planted a garden. The tulips never stood a chance. After planting, I began searching for signs of them in April. I waited impatiently until the last snow storm finished in May-late May. Still no tulips. Curious, I decided to dig them up. Had they frozen? No, they were gone. In their place was a network of tunnels. Apparently, the seeds had provided a fancy rodent(啮齿动物) dinner.
I decided to get serious. I consulted experts at the local garden center. Then I dug down 12 inches to seat the wire nets underground, blocking the digging invaders. Full of hope, I congratulated myself on a job well done. My children even put a little sign to remind the tiny robbers not to eat these plants.
But they were useless for the chipmunks(花栗鼠). They dashed in and out of the tiny holes in the nets, totally ignoring the hopeless barrier. Off they carried their delicious food. Tulips would never recover! But it's a good thing chipmunks are so adorable. I spotted one drinking from a recently watered leaf. Awwww!
But at the thought of my dream garden, I grew more determined. At the advice of one friend, I laid out piles of chicken feathers. At the suggestion of my children, I spread out masses of fur from our dog after her summer shave. The chipmunks didn't care. In a flood of desperation, I returned to the garden center. "The wildlife!" I complained. I was lost in the sorrow of defeat.
The other day, while we did laundry, I was still wondering about another round of tulip survival dream and thinking hard to drive away my unpleasant plant eating neighbours. I passed our sliding glass doors with my children and saw a touching scene.
小助理
2026-05-10
https://www.ilanzou.com/s/wb9md1dT