We have unwittingly set up a deer feeding station in our back yard.
Mother and son
For several years it has been a chicken feeding station, poached by no undesirable critters other than the occasional grackle or bad dog.
But our luck wore out, and it seems that deer have excellent memories as far as food is concerned. They're daily buffet visitors now.
Hubby thinks they're cute. "You won't think so after they eat the entire garden," I warn, but he doesn't believe it.
This would be the non-existant garden... the garden we've yet to find time to plant. When I moaned about it at a meeting last week, a man told me that he hadn't planted yet either. "The signs aren't good until Thursday. Then they'll last for about 10 days."
Since it's supposed to rain almost every day this week, I'm not overly hopeful. Instead of planting by the moon, we usually use the "when we're both here and it hasn't been raining buckets" method. And those signs have been terrible lately.