Tin Chicken vs. Mr. Groundhog

When growing crops successfully in an urban setting the homesteader needs a lot of specialized help. We have a city lot 130’x 25’ running from 4th St to the alley. That’s the space into which we accommodate house, patio, garden w/ trees, and a carport for off street parking. A patch of chard can be grown in a space one and a half feet long by only eight inches wide which will produce enough chard to feed us till Thanksgiving; even in upstate New York’s climate. That is, assuming good soil, adequate rainfall and the absence of predators.

I leave the guarding against predators to my trusty Tin Chicken, who’s been doing this job with great skill for years.

This year, though, TC was presented with a difficult challenge by a visitor named Mr. Groundhog. Not that she wasn’t up to this challenge; problem is Mr. G is cute, and TC had never met this type of bad boy up till now.

Certainly, people can’t watch the garden all the time. TC, on the other hand, has a great advantage. She’s made of tin and paint. She doesn’t mind weather too hot or too cold, and like all of us gardeners, thinks a nice soaking rain is a gift from heaven.

TC keeps an eye on the Veggies

TC keeps an eye some new lettuce plants 1

The earthworms also, revere her presence. She doesn’t pull them out of the soil by the scruff of their necks, nor does she eat them like her flesh and blood relatives do. Better still, she admires all the work they do in the soil as she has a first-hand view of their activities. Often, because she can see from a different vantage point, she serves as a lookout to warn her wriggler friends of something dangerous headed their way.

So, as it happened, one afternoon Mr. GH showed up looking his ferocious best. He wandered around as if taking inventory of the various veggies in sight. “OMG!” he thought, “I’ve just stumbled into a little treasure. Peas, chard, carrots, even Okra! Where do I start?”

As GH got closer to the chard, he was spotted by TC who muttered to herself, “Uh Oh, what’s this I see?” GH is big, even by groundhog standards, and stood there wondering why he had never come across this venue before. Beyond the chard there is some very

succulent new growth of lettuce and he saw that also. TC observed his every move and knew her job as protector had just entered a new phase.

As mentioned earlier, TC knows her advantages of being who she is. She also knows very well her disadvantages. “My feet don’t dance around like my real-life cousins, I’m totally stuck wherever I’m planted, and that’s just who I am. My job is to keep an eye on this new creature and see what he’s up to”.

With that GH lumbered over to the okra which was on the other side of the compost box. He was now out of sight of TC. But TC could hear some crunching noise, and didn’t need a lot of imagination to figure out what it was. “Hey, who’s over there munching on the okra?” she yelled. Startled, GH paused for a moment and looked around to see who was talking. He hadn’t noticed TC yet as she was partially hidden by the tomato plants. Not sure what to do he returned to the okra. A crunch could be heard again as he nibbled on more okra. A groundhog eating tender plant growth makes far less noise than eating a potato chip, but TC has keen eyes and ears trained by a lifetime of involuntary standing still. Hearing and seeing is what she does. Hey!” she shouted again, “I said who’s eating that okra?” GH could not see where the voice was coming from. And his keen safety sensors were not indicating the presence of danger; there couldn’t be people in the area. “Er, uh, who, uh, wants to know?”, he said in his thinnest little voice, thinking he was alone in the garden. “I do!” TC roared, “I’m in charge around here and my people don’t want their produce stolen by some freeloader like you. Go plant your own garden”. He was astonished. Still on the other side of the box, he hadn’t figured out who was talking. “I’m hungry, and I don’t know how to plant a garden. We groundhogs don’t plant, we forage. That’s what we do.”

GH tiptoed around to the brick walkway between garden patches to see if this voice could be detected. There was only an object looking vaguely like a hen stuck in the soil by the new lettuce. “Oh man, is this some kind of joke?” He stood there scratching his chin, trying to regain his composure.

“No joke, Big Guy! You’ve just stepped over the line with your foraging story”, said TC. “And, just because I don’t have the same mobility as you, don’t delude yourself into thinking that my guardianship is ineffective”.

Now GH was getting mad. Realizing no gun-toting humans were near, he knew he had little to fear. GH pumped up his chest, bared his mighty fangs and put forward his awesome claws to show off his mighty heart-in-mouth countenance. “My, My, my little faux-fowl; now my curiosity is getting the best of me, and just how are you planning to prevent me from doing what I do, you little refugee from the scrapyard?” He was so proud of himself.

TC calmly replied, “Mr. GH, you look so scary standing there all pumped up so pretty. You’re more than cute, you’re simply adorable! And since I have no heart to leap out of my throat, you don’t even come close to scaring me”. TC put on her best wink, “the only way you can get me out of the way is to knock my head off---and the likes of you couldn’t possibly do that!

Mr. Groundhog showed up looking his ferocious best.

Without hesitation, GH walked over to TC and took a powerful swipe at the top of her head before he realized that the sheet metal craftsman had constructed TC’s comb to be razor sharp. Screaming, GH retreated, his hand torn to shreds and blood spouting all over.

“Ok, Mr. handsome Big Guy.” No smirk, no victorious smile, just with a straight forward plain talking voice, TC said, “I think we can make a deal. You forage; that’s what you do. I see and hear; that’s what I do.” “From now on, I’ll have the people leave produce like carrot tops and okra clippings outside of the compost box for you and you leave the blossoms alone so the plants can grow. And I’ll be wherever I’m put in the garden to see and to hear.” “Is that perfectly clear, Mr. GH?

“Well, er, uh, will I still be able to snitch a pea blossom... pretty please? They’re so tasty!”

“We’ll see about that. I’ll have a chat with the people. Besides, I’ve decided It’s good for me to have company. You’re so very handsome in a grizzly-bearish way. ‘cute’ might be overstating it a bit, but ‘appealing’ works. And for creatures like me who have nothing to fear from your awesomeness, you’re – well – you’re almost ‘loveable’, maybe as in a ‘hate to love’ sort of way. But somehow, way deep down in my molecular heart, I hope I can gather the courage to come around to ‘just plain loveable’, though that, for the likes of me, may be way too much of a stretch.”