Farming* is an exercise in hope.
You plant your little seeds in the dirt and hope it’s the right kind of dirt, and then you spritz them lightly with water, because you don’t want to drown them (again). And then you hope for the right kind of light and weather and no frost, please. Those first triumphant little sprouts will make your heart sing with optimism! and you bring those tender little seedlings inside at night and hope to remember to put them out again in the morning.
Sometimes you blow it, and you start over, and you hope. And sometimes a despicable glutton wipes out your whole lettuce crop while you’re in the shower.
Honestly, sometimes we’re just feeding the squirrels.
I suppose that if it wasn’t totally soul-crushing, it would be an interesting little science project: learning first hand - which vegetables do rodents prefer? So far, we know they like beans, tomatoes, and peas, and that they’ll eat the red lettuce, but only after the green lettuce is gone. Last year they left the herbs alone, but yesterday they ate every leaf off my bonus basil. This year they’ll be taste-testing carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, leeks, onions, cabbage, a variety of lettuces, and kale. Maybe we’ll do a little wine pairing for them. I bet they’d enjoy that.
OR. Maybe we’ll fly into a murderous rage and start plotting revenge. We already know that the loathsome vermin are faster than the dog and smarter than the traps. We can’t poison them (pets, food chain). We can’t shoot them (neighbors). We are very allergic to cats.
I’ve read that I can deter the beasts by sprinkling my vegetables with cayenne pepper or a product that smells like fox urine and costs $14.99. Both must be re-applied every time I water and I want neither of them on my food. What next? Sanctions? A moat? Some kind of a Strangers on a Train scenario? Pied Piper?
I ordered a little do-dad online called the T3-R - not a name that satisfies my current level of blood-thirsty agitation - which is supposed to repel the nasty little thieves with ultrasonic sounds that I won’t be able to hear.
I hope it works. Otherwise, throwing stars.