Dear July or July Deer: Confronting the Ungulate Agents of Chaos

I for sure thought I was smarter than deer, but it turns out I am not.”

It’s that time of year again when the countless hours of sweaty labor and financial investment of gardeners all over the peninsula are at the greatest risk of being devoured by none other than our delightfully dense population of resident ruminants: deer. And this year, they seem to be especially ravenous.

Whether you have acres of landscaping or just keep a few tomatoes on the back deck, we have or know someone who has been victimized by these browsing beasts. My first encounter with deer and the utter garden devastation they can bring was in the summer of 2021. I was new to gardening and still naive, fully trusting that the universe was watching my back and eager to shepherd me to a successful harvest.

I had curated our plot in such a way that the layers of trellised flowers and diversified beds could be admired from any vantage point around the yard as the view remained unobstructed by perimeter fencing. To me, a fence was not just aesthetically obnoxious, but also an inessential, inconvenient barrier. I couldn’t stand to put an extra three seconds between me and my delectable homegrown provisions.

It’s not like I was completely unaware of the risks involved with not having some sort of fencing up around the garden. It did cross my mind that the neighborhood deer would occasionally wander through and could pose a threat, but up until that point, I had little evidence they would bother anything but the blooming hostas. Not to mention our free-range dog was a fairly effective nuisance to them. So, the only agents of chaos I decided were worth being concerned about were the digging, sliming, and flying kinds.

I’m sure you can sense where this is going.

One particular morning that summer, as the garden was beginning to look lush and abundant, I performed my usual walkabout and was especially excited to check on the progress of my bush beans (three different varieties), which had been filling in their rows beautifully.

The image of what I found still haunts me; the fire of rage continues to burn. There was nothing left of my beans but tiny green twigs. Each top was meticulously nipped off with the precision of a spiteful, diabolical surgeon. I followed the hoof prints to the other side of the garden, where they performed the same procedure on the strawberries and kale. The scene was certainly a blow to my ego, but more than that, a sudden realization that the garden is a war zone and the universe is an indifferent spectator.

The next season, I was more vigilant. A fence went up around the perimeter. When it comes to deer and fencing, ideally it’s either too tall to jump over (8 to 10 feet) or a solid fence just tall enough that they can’t see what’s on the other side.

However, due to budget constraints, I could only make mine a measly 4 feet tall, which meant I had to get creative and develop interior obstacles that would be inconvenient to navigate or deter them completely from jumping in.

A solution I had heard a farmer explain is if you put up two parallel fences spaced about four feet apart, it messes with their depth perception, and they won’t jump either one.

With my space being limited, I came up with a plan to put up trellis panels around the beds that I would plant my beans in, that way not only would the panel proximity to the perimeter fence mess with the deer’s depth perception, but the view of those beds would also be obscured by vining sweet peas as soon as the beans began sprouting.

Did my plan work? Well, let’s just say no. None of my tactics have ever managed to keep the deer out or away from my precious beans. Which is especially demoralizing because I for sure thought I was smarter than deer, but it turns out I am not. I’ve only empowered them to be better problem-solvers.

I’ve seen many attempts to keep the deer visitations in check. Of the products available, scented deer-repellent balls or bars of Irish Spring soap hung around the garden seem to offer some relief. But overall, tall fences and big dogs (or very territorial small dogs), have been the only absolute solution.

Despite my regard for the deer as being massive pests, the babies are undeniably adorable, and it’s always a little magical to encounter a doe or buck quietly moving through the forest on a walk. I do have some sympathy for their situation. They live here too, and the more people encroach on their habitat, the more they will be attracted to ours. Can we truly blame them if we keep making our gardens so delicious?

At the same time, from an ecological point of view, the larger their populations get, the more pressure is put on the native landscape to support them. And just like the deer are losing habitat, so are their predators: coyotes, cougars, and bears. Nature can’t keep up! Before we know it, we’ll need to install designated deer crosswalks on the highway and put up “Adopt a Herd” signs in our yards. As the old saying goes, “If you can’t beat ’em, feed ’em.”