Remember my last post about bunnies eating my tomatoes?
Dear Neighborhood Bunnies,
Last week I accused you of theft and destruction of my tomato property. I was wrong. It wasn’t you. I threatened you and made insults about your intelligence. For this I am very sorry.
You are however eating the mint in my yard. I know this because of your really fresh breath. Also, I saw you do it.
Let’s call a truce. I’ll cease spreading tomato eating rumors as long as you don’t eat all of the mint.
Deal? Can we shake on this?
Human in Purple Who Screams at You From The Patio
But who is eating my tomatoes? Let’s take a look at the suspects:
The guilty party is surprisingly #4. Birds.
Let’s get a confession.
So there you have it. The birds are the ones “eating” holes in my tomatoes.
They already have a bird bath (water is refreshed daily and they are SO not appreciative) so I added another basin of water right next to the garden for the lazy ones and to help ease the traffic congestion. Didn’t work.
Then I tried hanging threads across the top of the garden with shiny sparkly reflective strips. Didn’t work.
Then I hung old CDs all over the garden which spin and reflect light and basically turned the garden into a disco dance party. So of course all the birds came. Didn’t work.
So then I started picking tomatoes before they were fully ripe and letting them ripen in a sunny windowsill. But the birds got angry and started pecking the green tomatoes. Didn’t work.
Finally, I wrapped every single tomato in a fine mesh (tulle material, that cheap wedding veil stuff) and it WORKS. It works but it is a lot of work.
So after four years of struggling with tomatoes in our annual garden, I’ve finally figured out how to easily have a bounty of fresh, local, organic heirloom tomatoes.
- Go to the farmer’s market
- Bring lots of money
- Buy tomatoes
All the other stuff in our garden is fine. It really is the tomatoes that face peril each season. One year it was Crappy Baby “helping to garden” by uprooting entire plants and then later by picking green tomatoes too early. Another year it was the masked bandits. Those raccoons would reach up with their tiny dark hands and gingerly pick an entire tomato. Then they’d sit under a tree and eat the whole thing then go back for another one. Each year we think we have it figured out and each year it is another problem.
Probably next year it will be narwhals. I hear they like to spear tomatoes with their horn tooth thing.
My garden is doomed.