Hunting Season has drawn to a close and I’m happy to report that there is one less elk menacing my landscape. He has gone to his just reward---and I shall savor his memory with the appropriate amount of mashed potatoes and gravy.
At 7am this morning his absence was noticeable---it takes far less time for 21 elk to discern that I’m shoeing them out of my yard and to vacate the premises than it did for twenty-TWO elk. I am, of course, being sarcastically facetious with just an after-note of irony, because NO, there are STILL a far too many elk in my yard.
The remaining elk seem oblivious to the fact that I was providing aid and comfort to their Enemies in the form of convenient parking, free coffee and updated scouting reports in real time to any hunters in my neck of the woods. Plant enough flowers, and it seems elk will forgive you any transgression. “Roses? For me?! You shouldn’t have!”
I’ve spent a lot of time considering how to deal with my problem elk. I’ve considered scrapping my plans to build a fence and instead build a giant walk-in freezer under the apple tree, but the Doubting Thomas’s among my friends point out that elk like to kick and stomp and would make kindling out of my freezer in short order. So out with the freezer, back in with the fence.
I can’t figure out WHAT to do to inspire fear and loathing in my nemesis. They seem immune to all manner of harassment; finding me, at best, mildly amusing. “Oh look, she’s frothing at the mouth and waving a hammer. Try these petunias, the striped ones are delicious.” Providing both dinner and a show is not the affect I was aiming for. Unintended consequences indeed.
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