'Make a Deal' with crows and Mother Nature, too

Gardening of whatever ilk — be it edible, ornamental, a passel of pots or serious landscaping — is always a team effort between the worker and Mother Nature. It’s all about life, from that of the gardener to the living soil, plants, bulbs and seeds to the beneficial earthworms, insects, creepers, crawlers, web-builders and fliers — from tiny insects to foragers and pollinators from aphids to the ladybugs that eat them and the bees, butterflies, and even birds that see to their health and dispersal.

From the very early days of my gardening experience, gardens, love of birds and reverence for nature have all been inextricably bound together, for as a little girl of four or five, I “helped” my Grandma Riesland (Daddy’s mother) in her flourishing flower and vegetable garden. That was in Chilco in the early 1930’s, and one of the first lessons I learned back then was how to “bargain with the crows.

A group of them would always gather when Grandma was out, but most particularly when she was sowing seeds. They’d perch on the clotheslines as she hoed the straight lines in the rich soil prior to planting seeds, then she would show them a pie tin of seeds, and address them directly. Now, my friends, I want you to leave the garden alone; I promise when I’m through here, I will leave you all these seeds.” I was too young to catch the meaning of all this but very aware that the birds listened — (politely?) — and sat patiently while she sowed the neat rows and let me carefully cover them over with my small hands and gently pat the soil down.

Then Grandma would pick up the pie tin of seeds, adding a few left-over from the day’s planting, and carried it to an open spot several feet away. She’d sprinkle some around the area, then set the pan-full in the middle and walked away, saying “there you go, babies — enjoy!” And they did!

I didn’t get into my own gardening for many years — six kids, jobs and making a living commanded all my attention till the late 1960s. Then, after a (final) marriage and settled in a pretty home at Hauser Lake, I began a garden. Unlike Grandma, I had a big Troy-bilt rototiller to break the soil, but the finishing touches with rake and hoe were the same since time immemorial. A huge sense of deja-vu nearly overwhelmed as I got the seed packets out and ready for planting — and heard the chorus in the surrounding trees. Crows! watching and cawing noisily. I was a little kid again — running into the house to get a pie tin and pouring it full of seeds from most of the packets. Then, with my best Grandma Riesland aplomb, held the pan up to show them and “made the deal”; “O.K., guys”- (different language, same deal). I swear to you, they listened, and they sat and watched, “talking” quietly among themselves, till I was finished, and the last row planted and neatly covered and patted down. Then I carried two tins — I had more crows than Grandma did — and placed them near the trees. It worked. And it worked for the five years I lived there, and later in the early ‘80s when I moved to this area, up off Wrenco Loop Road. They’d wait patiently, then hustle down and feast and NEVER bothered my gardens. I told this story a few years ago in another column, and perhaps some one of you has tried it. I’d love to know if you were successful! (By the way, it does NOT work with squirrels).

A sad postscript is that while I have quite a crow population down here at my base-of-Schweitzer flats, it seems to be made up of bullies. Of course, I haven’t really done veggie gardening here — but I feed the songbirds and have witnessed attacks on “my chickadees” — and one horrible occasion when two big crows caught chickadees in their beaks and flew off with them!

Speaking of “deals”, I’ve certainly made one at this location — but not with the crows — with the land itself! Hoping to turn the front expanse of my property into a lovely, welcoming spread of lawn and shrubbery, I met with failure after failure. The rocky/sandy soil, cold spots, and early shade from the mountain blocking the late afternoon sun has not been conducive to successful lawn-making. Over the years I tried everything from raised-bed ornamental oases, large pots for shrubbery, tilling (impossible with a solid rock base!) and struggled to attain some sort of order — all for naught. Finally, I “made a deal” with the land (it had already won, of course, but I wasn’t going to admit to it graciously)! I got my ancient old roughneck electric lawnmower — I’ve taught it how to be a back-hoe — and cut through and over absolutely every nook and cranny of the area, leaving the “good stuff” like scraggly little struggling wild roses and the occasional native Aquilegia (Columbine). Ground-hugging — and welcome — ground-cover like wild violets, Ajuga, Prunella, Veronica and the pretty rounded leaves of Ground ivy (Alehoof) were untouched and looked quite acceptable under the benign topping of countless Baldhip rose suckers. OK, that showed me a reasonable posit; I could make it work! And to begin, I changed the word “make” to “let” — as in let Nature do her own thing — she knows what’s best for a tough, rocky, sandy situation — and can make it beautiful on her own.

Through all my years of struggle, you may have noticed I’ve never mentioned ‘cides — as in pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, et al — because poison is NEVER the answer. Hand-pull weeds and remember that Nature has her own order: let her ladybugs eat the aphids; the garden snakes decimate the snails — the occasional Tansy draw insects from the Peonies — etc., etc. You have a built-in partnership here — a “deal” if you will — with Someone much older and wiser than we will ever be. And that’s a “win-win situation!

Valle Novak writes the Country Chef and Weekend Gardener columns for the Daily Bee. She can be reached at bcdailybee@bonnercountydailybee.com. or by phone at 208-265-4688.