I may call these pesky critters all sorts of synonyms for the word dumb followed by a couple unlady-like cuss words as I’m mourning my water irises that have been haplessly plucked out of the pond just for spite…Elk don’t even like the taste of most bulb flowers, in fact some blooms, like daffodils, are poisonous to them. Yet my local elk…well they are a special kind of ornery..They will pull out the bulbs, take a nibble and spit ’em out for me to find the next morning…I think it’s become a game to them. They especially like the daffodils I planted right at the barn door..”Oh, ok, dingy blonde farmer lady actually remembered to close the barn door tonight, so we can’t steal the grain…let’s just demolish her poisonous flower bed instead”… But I digress, as dumb as I may think they are, these bulls must be secret rocket scientists, because come hunting season, they sure know how to make their way into the safe haven of the neighborhood, far away from the cracks of the hunters’ rifles..

I am always torn between paying tens of thousands of dollars to completely fence in my property so that I can have the glorious flower gardens of my dreams, or maintaining the frustrating, magical sight of waking up to a herd of up 20, dumb as nine chickens, ravenous, majestic creatures (Bulls, Spikes, Mamas, and most precious their little Bambi-like babies) outside my door mowing my grass for free…

I swear I’ve caught them showering in my sprinklers…Literally, hoof and leg raised high, letting the cool water spray their underbellies and stinky arm pits!

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