Bambi strikes again

bambiagainMeet my Swiss chard. For it is no more. It is a good thing I photograph my garden daily. Otherwise this would be the only proof that I had some of this very good perennial vegetable growing at all.

We have christened the beast Bambi.  And pronounced the French way – bomb bee – as that was what Charlotte called him when he brazenly made his way to the duck pond for a mid afternoon sip of cool water after eating his fill of mulberries.

She was swinging in the hammock by the pool at the time and was amazed the wild animal came so close.farewellswisschard

Mind you he didn’t have much of a commute.  He lives just twenty feet on the next terrace down from the spring below the mulberry tree.

It’s a perfect bit of cover for him; dappled shade, unvisited. Secret.

If you were a kid and wanting to build a secret den, then you would have to shift the deer aside to make your lair.

I thought I was being very clever in putting up a bit of fencing at the front of the vegetable garden.  And a natty version of myself as a scarecrow.

bambilairComing outside this morning to pick flowers I noticed that the scarecrow did nothing of the sort. The chard was reduced to pink stumps.

I hope he got stringy fibres in his teeth.

So I have had to go rummaging for more fencing to stop the wretched critter from adding any more home grown mixed leaves  to his diet.

Obviously a deer can’t live on mulberries alone.

He is so brazen. Or if I were charitable – hot, thirsty, hungry – that he is coming quite close to the house in the middle of the day. bambimulberry

It means that lunchtime is quite fun for us – we can watch him eating mulberries under the tree for ages.  But I have become utterly twitchy come later afternoon. I keep straying to the terrace to check on the contents of the potager.

Tomorrow I will go up to Vernoux and order sturdier chestnut fencing.  The wonderful year of never being bothered by pests in the potager has come to an end.