A feeling of optimism over takes me when I begin planning, then planting a garden in southwest Montana.
Precious seeds are started indoors months before their outdoor living debut, watching the first brave green shoots appear, watering; nurturing and beginning to imagine tomatoes, pumpkins, cucumbers, flowers, and maybe, if the season is kind, a respectable harvest.
Plants are hardened off, protected and then comes the long awaited planting day. The delicate cargo is planted into the ground and expected to mature.
Then the wildlife committee arrives.
First come the mice.
They seem to know exactly where every newly planted seed is hiding. A row that looked promising yesterday can mysteriously develop gaps overnight. Replant. They return. It becomes less of a gardening project and more of a long-running negotiation.
Then the squirrels discover the garden.
Squirrels are remarkably talented diggers. They have no apparent interest in the carefully spaced arrangement you created, preferring instead to excavate wherever they please. Newly planted bulbs? Excellent. Freshly turned soil? Even better. A little patch of mulch? Obviously something important must be buried underneath.
And then there are the marmots.
The marmot operates on a completely different scale. While mice and squirrels can be dismissed as persistent nuisances, a marmot can look directly at a garden and apparently think, What a lovely salad bar you have built for me.
By the time the birds arrive, the question arises on whether you are actually gardening for yourself.
The birds take seeds. (Some eat mice:)) They investigate seedlings and chomp them. They help themselves to berries. They perch nearby and observe the proceedings with what feels suspiciously like judgment.
The deer.
Deer don’t bother with subtlety.
They don’t dig around looking for something. They don’t nibble cautiously at the edges. They simply walk into the garden and eat whatever looks appealing.
And, of course, we can’t forget the cute adorable chipmunks!
Small, impossibly quick and apparently convinced that every garden bed is their personal pantry.
They dart between rocks, disappear beneath the steps, pop up beside the garden, and somehow manage to find the exact seed that was just planted. They are especially fond of anything newly disturbed, which means planting day can feel less like gardening and more like announcing an all-you-can-eat buffet.
You can’t really stay mad at them for long. They are too entertaining, with their tiny paws, puffed cheeks, and frantic little dashes across the yard.
But when a garden is carefully planted with seedlings and its discovered that half of them have vanished, their cuteness becomes slightly harder to appreciate.
Between the mice, squirrels, marmots, birds, deer, and chipmunks, the mountain garden has developed quite an impressive clientele.
At this point, I’m not entirely sure whether we’re growing vegetables, or simply providing room service for the neighborhood wildlife.
The irony is that this is precisely why we garden here in the first place.
Living in the mountains means sharing the landscape. The same wildness that makes southwest Montana beautiful also makes gardening an ongoing exercise in adaptation, patience, and occasionally, surrender.
I’ve learned that a garden here isn’t really a battle to be won. It’s a series of small victories.
A pumpkin plant that survives is a victory.
A tomato that actually ripens is cause for celebration.
A flower that blooms before the deer discover it feels like a minor miracle.
Some years the garden thrives. Some years the wildlife wins. Most years, we meet somewhere in the middle.
So we try new deterrents, strategically placing rocks, trying to protect the plants Most of the time I plant a little extra because I know someone else is likely to arrive for a meal.
After all, the mountain garden was never going to belong entirely to me.
It is part garden, part experiment, part wildlife buffet and entirely part of the adventure of living in the mountains of southwest Montana.
Oh no, I think the rabbits are moving in closer!
