The Ants & The Deer
The deer in our neighborhood have taught me that you can’t control everything (or anything, really). Sometimes you must abandon plans, go with the flow, and learn to coexist.
ADVENTURE ART CLUB | DAY 12 | 9.12
LANDSCAPING LAVENDER
MISSOULA, MT
Despite our efforts at natural deterrents, nothing can assuage the attack of these persistent, insatiable creatures. Our deer are voracious eaters and drift through the neighborhood around the clock, doe-eyed and fearless, skirting the odd barking dog to devour our lawns, trees, and flowers. The natural fear of man that keeps this species safe has been tamed by our domestic offerings. Our neighbors have learned to wall off what they love in unsightly cages or to plant things deer loathe in the hopes they’ll bypass them. With wave after wave of deer invaders gobbling up plants sometimes “just to try them”, it can be hard to upkeep a yard’s presentation.
When we first moved into our house, my husband and I spent all our free time engaging in DIY projects, one after another. So much was needed. We dug garden beds, planted trees, moved rock, re-stained fences, fixed plumbing, repaved, dug concrete, built porches, and spent a month prepping and painting our two story home on an almost 45 degree hill face. (Thank goodness for leveling extension ladders).
One day, on a whim, quite manically, I settled my body in the heart of a tangled mess of three lilac trees that leaned over a trail that runs near us and spent the next several hours hand-pruning suckers and clearing out deadwood. I was determined to settle an eyesore into a space of beauty. By the time I was finished, my body screaming for respite, these sweet trees “nobody owned” looked open and sculptural, and I had accrued three huge piles of branches. In years, no one had ever attended to them, so the ground had grown wild with offshoots that choked out the life of the limbs that were reaching. My attention brought much needed air to the center of this oasis. That was one day’s adventure.
Another improvement we made near the neighborhood trail was the addition of seven sweet roses, my favorite, in a line. I couldn’t wait for them to grow! And yet, over time I would find their tender new leaves and buds cruelly chomped by the snapping teeth of our neighborhood deer herd. There was nothing I could do to stem the bleeding. The onslaught of their feeding was completely unyielding, and I watched my roses twist and warp from the attacks, stunted. Eventually I dug them out for replanting elsewhere. Sadly, most did not survive the trauma...
This brings me to today’s adventure where you find me digging once again in these spaces, planting lavender. This project has a clear objective: to outsmart the deer, or live with them. Deer hate plants with copious scent, and they have left the lavender elsewhere alone, choosing instead to devour our serviceberry down to the ground. Our other lavender plants are full of bees all Summer long, and I love watching them meander from flower to flower. Even at night, these branches are filled with moths fluttering through the calm. With hope in my heart, I’m planting much more, hoping they’ll survive this first Winter outdoors. Offerings to the bees.
The sun is shining today as I make my way from one spot to the next removing the river stone circles we’ve placed around them, lifting the rock we’ve laid down, and planting one sweet lavender shrub in each center. I’m making my way down the path quite happily, listening to an Indie rock playlist and sipping on a piney IPA beer until I reach the third circle, when my shovel cruelly uncovers a community of ants who misguidedly built up their home here. Immediately, I’m regretful.
I’m often told I’m too empathetic, but there’s no way I can control my reaction to cruelty, tragedy, or injustice. I don’t think I would want to become more callous… Today, it wounds me to see these ants scrambling in every direction, running to carry their eggs to the grass in sheer panic. How would we feel if the same happened to us? What would we do if our home blew to pieces in an instant? Wouldn’t that be tragic? My project now looks like a war zone, and I feel like a criminal.
After a few well placed “Fuck!”s and some tears (I’ll admit), I get to work digging out as many of them as I can and placing them on a tarp near me. They’re scrambling. I’m sure many have died in the process. I’ve completely destroyed their home, and for what? Better landscaping? With pangs of guilt, I proceed with the project and place a lavender plant where they’d been…hoping the ants left in the earth will rebuild their tunnels maybe just to the left of it. I’m also hoping this plant will survive near this soil teeming with insects.
After planting the lavender, I then drag the pile of stones and earth with the ants to the shade of the lilacs. I loose the soil underneath them and hope that these creatures, survivors of my cruelty, will make a new home here. I hope they rebuild.
This seems silly, I’m sure, to lots of readers. How can I feel so much for a circle of ants in the garden? To that I would say: “They’re living creatures. So am I. We’re connected.” and “I’d like to coexist if I can”.
Deer need to eat, despite my plans to plant a rose garden. Ants need to live in their carefully curated communities. In many ways, I’ve invaded their world to build a home here. Ants invaded mine to build theirs.
Ant tunnels form networks that echo the way that we build cities. In fact, scientists even study ants to learn about patterns, systems, and chaos. In many ways, human beings are a colony of ants assembling in groups, building our structures, finding sustenance. We’re all running from here to there, working on all of our “very important” projects. Who do we hurt with our carelessness, let alone with our cruel intentions? We, too, are a collective and connected to all life in more ways than we know.
I can relate to these creatures’ endeavors: their diligence, persistence, and their commitment to the community they’re building. That brings me empathy. I’d like to coexist.
Settling the earth around my new plants and stepping back, my body is speaking to me once again…I’m tired. Sit down, rest, reflect, sketch. I listen and sink into a chair on our deck. As I start to sketch the lilacs across from me, my husband fires up the grill, to which he adds the best souvlaki kebabs alongside fresh onions and peppers from this week’s farm share. We savor the cool of the Autumn evening together at our own little home.
Anything unexpected holds the hint of adventure. Anything remarkable or surprising brings that feeling to ground. I didn’t expect the tragedy of this evening’s discovery, nor how I would react to it.
Adventure Art Club, as a project, is allowing me to explore all the facets of what that term “adventure” means to me and how it works within my life in all its forms. Today, I’m exploring micro-moment adventures, the life and death contrasts, that find me in the mundane.
Love & Gratitude,
- Christina
