4.27.2006

Something Has Invaded the Flower Beds and Is Spooking the Dawgs

(click on da picture) Hipporee!! It finally rained! We've been in a drought situation for the last few months. I went out to weed the Blues Garden and noticed something has been digging big holes everywhere out there. It's not the dogs, because they can't get out there because of their invisible fence. Cappy said it sounds like Armadillo(s) or possums. I noticed that the dogs have been nervous around the shed, snooping around under it. The other night Mark took off after something, barking his head off in the direction of the shed.
Now what does a New Yorker know about getting rid of armadillos? I went online and found this suggestion. Set a radio out in the yard, put human hair around the area, and play talk radio or loud annoying music. Well, I'm not tearing out any more hair than I already have, even if it does mean saving all the expensive plants I pored over for months in the garden magazines, then babysat the mailbox waiting for them to show up. What in the world kind of music would annoy an armadillo, anyhow. I know "what kind of noise annoys an oyster: a noisy noise annoys an oyster". Try saying that out loud for 'fun'.
I dunno....it's always been something or other with our yard. We finally got the silky pantyhose out of the pecan trees, which were dripping from the branches with bright yellow bars of soap in the toes of them, dangling seductively in the breeze. We also got the big ugly stove pipes from around the base of the same trees, and put the scare owls on another duty away from the pecan trees, but still visible from the street. We removed the big shiny aluminum pie plates shimmering and flashing sunlight into the eyes of passing motorists walkers and joggers. They 'protected' the citrus trees from the birds...Not. Now I'm supposed to put big clumps of our hair in our flower beds and play loud trashy music all night long? I'm telling ya, something's going to be run out of our yard by all of this, and I'm afraid it's going to be Cappy, me and the Dawgs, chased by a mob of angry neighbors wielding pitchforks, lawn blowers and other assorted landscaping tools.
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