Up until about a year ago I’d stand out on my front porch in the wee hours, waiting for the herd of deer to walk down the street I live on. They’d usually come by around 1:30 or 2:00 in the morning, on their way to the small patch of woods at the end of the street and across the railroad tracks.
I’ve always enjoyed watching deer. They’re graceful, beautiful creatures, and their presence always reminds me that even living in a small city we’re not too far removed from nature. Although I’ve never gone deer hunting, I have friends and family members who do, and I have to admit that as enchanting as I find the deer to be, I’ve never turned down a gift of venison after someone else has been on a successful hunt.
Turnabout is fair play. The deer have returned to the street that I live on, and this time they found tender young plants to snack on, like Santa with a plate of warm cookies.
So now the container garden has been moved behind the fence, in the courtyard, and the deer have exacted their revenge for some of the venison burgers I’ve enjoyed over the years. I don’t feel too terrible about it; at least I fed them organically.