If someone, in their ultimate wisdom, had to invent voles, couldn’t they at least have made them enjoy Bermuda grass?
The treasured rice fields that once surrounded the rescue, teaming with mini frogs, beneficial snakes, and birds of prey, have been turned into dry wastelands. Construction for a planned development has already forever altered our peaceful oasis. It has chased out natural predators, including coyotes, hawks, and owls. And with their absence – we have been invaded by voles.
Our founder, Jody, used to say that every year brought a new plague. Mosquitoes, beetles, wasps, gnats, and more. But never before have we experienced this kind of infestation. They tunnel in – or simply stroll through the fence – from the adjoining fields, finding plenty of lush roots, foliage, and tubers to feed on in our well-maintained haven. They defy our feral cats to keep up with their massive reproduction and underground hideaways. Too bad we can’t unleash all the dogs on them at once!
They have decimated the back half of the Memorial Garden, eating their way through even things they are not supposed to enjoy, like allium, mint, sages, and daffodil bulbs (which they dig up, bite into, and abandon…how rude!). Gone are the iris, Santa Barbara Daisy, salvias, daylilies, rudbeckia, bee balm, and verbena. All 100 of the Liatris bulbs succumbed. Everything special that marks summer’s progression has vanished.
Then, the little beady-eyed critters began their march forward, turning their attention to stripping the garden’s structural plants: rosemary, lavender, asters, and roses. Their tunnels threatened our beloved shade trees. And they set their sights on the prized dahlias I so lovingly nurse each year from bulb to shoot at home before transplanting. I declared war.
I have never been a neat freak gardener. A little bit of decay feeds the soil if it does not invite pests and disease. The pests have arrived. And since they seek cover for their ill deeds, all cover has been removed.
I have always taken a “live and let live” and organic approach to other creatures, pests, and diseases in the garden – happily bargaining with the birds, snakes, snails, and occasional field mice and eschewing any toxic fertilizers or treatments. But these furry creatures and their voracious appetites have pushed me too far.
Since I can’t exactly wall off the one-acre garden with hardware cloth and gravel, and one of their most effective repellents, castor oil, is toxic to dogs, my approach is multi-pronged – keeping the safety of the dogs, feral cats, and birds in mind. That includes the family of turkeys that have taken up residence on the property. Too bad they don’t eat voles. (BTW dear voles…the turkeys earn their keep by eating snails!)
I dug up and brought home what was left of my most prized plants. They are in the infirmary recovering until the coast is (hopefully) clear to return next year.
I wrapped the dahlia stems in steel wool and aluminum foil. It looks ridiculous, but so far, it has deterred them.
I spread hardware cloth near trees and shrubs to discourage tunneling. It slows but does not stop them. However, it buys me time while more brutal measures do their work. Mouse traps baited with apple pieces are lined up behind gates along the fence line – cleaned and re-baited twice daily. They are highly effective if gruesome. A few buried baited traps are out of the reach of other critters with a lure that is just toxic enough for voles but has no record of secondary impact. Peanut butter and baking soda balls are dropped into any new tunnels before I seal them with fresh soil. It’s supposed to be a slow death. I am, sadly, beyond caring.
I understand that the scourge is not ours alone this year. The voles have invaded other yards and gardens from adjacent fields throughout the region. I can’t blame them for seeking food, water, and shade in this summer oven. Still, if they hope for peaceful coexistence, they could be a little more grateful, less gluttonous, and a lot less promiscuous.
I’m under no illusions that this will resolve quickly. Voles are everywhere on the property, but in the garden, it appears I have slowed the pace of destruction. The line of mouse traps filled with dead bodies at the field perimeter surely sends a signal to their compatriots: enter at your own peril.
Gardens For Goldens 