Who’s Been Eating in My Garden?

What happened in the carrot patch?  Early one morning I noticed that there was a pile of chopped-off tops where rows were previously visible.  Later that day, I spotted the culprit – an Eastern Chipmunk – digging to retrieve the succulent young roots.  In all my years of gardening, I had not seen that particular bit of thievery.

The Chipmunk, a regular visitor to my property, gathers hazelnuts that it frequently shells and eats while sitting on the deck.  It’s a joy to watch as it scurries about, lets out its ‘chip’ sound,  samples buds from a Johnny-jump-up plant, checks the cherry tomatoes, and drinks water from a shallow pan after sliding down the eaves trough.  Before that day of discovery, I had not seen it in the carrot patch.

The name of this smallest member of the squirrel family derives from the Algonquian “Adjidaumo” (pronounced a-chit’-a-mauk) in reference to its habit of descending trees head first.   Though it gathers most of its food by ground foraging, it easily climbs trees and shrubs to harvest berries, nuts and seeds.

Inhabitants of mostly deciduous woods and solitary by nature, each Chipmunk constructs its own burrow tunnel with the entrance camouflaged by a fallen log or tangle of shrubs.  It uses its cheek pouches to carry the excavated earth out and away from the entrance.  During its lifetime (usually about four years) it may have a 40-foot tunnel with several entrances and chambers.

Separate from others, the nesting chamber is insulated with fluffy seed heads and/or grasses, and shredded leaves.  The winter supply of non-perishable foods is stored in an accessory chamber.  The majority of Chipmunks in Canada breed only once, though in the southern U.S. they frequently produce two litters. 

Mating occurs in northern regions during April or May near the burrow of the female who produces a litter of about five young that she rears alone.  By September or October, the adult-sized young retire to their individual burrows.  Not a true hibernator, the Chipmunk enters brief periods of torpor, awakens, eats some food, then sleeps again and repeats the routine until mild weather appears.

When comfortable and assured of its safety, this delightful creature will cautiously venture towards a human and chew on apple cores placed nearby, or accept hand-held peanuts or sunflower seeds. For its entertainment value alone, it earns the small amount of carrots or other treats from the garden.  Additionally, its uneaten, small caches of seeds germinate to become the Chipmunk's contribution to the spread of plants, shrubs, and trees.

 

Sharing and Remembering

Through the years, my family members, friends and I have exchanged numerous specimens of favourite plants.  As I look at my gardens that contain a wonderful assortment of perennials and shrubs, I reminisce about the people who generously added to the collection – where we were and what was happening in our lives at the time. 

More proof, if it’s needed, that the garden is a place where not only co-operation, good planning and hard work happen, it is also a place where good memories dwell. 

Some of my plants that travelled several times over many miles during transitional periods settled nicely into new garden patches, and continue to thrive.  Perhaps the most successful in that regard is the hardy Shasta daisy – a hybrid produced by horticulturist Luther Burbank in 1890, and named after Mount Shasta because of its snow-white petals.

Long a favourite of mine, this strong, old-fashioned plant with bright yellow centres in its large white flowers contrasts beautifully with others in a mixed border.  Even when the blossoms are finished, the dark green foliage provides a good background.  Attractive to bees and butterflies, the flowers are excellent in cut-flower arrangements, and will last up to ten days in water that is regularly freshened.

My original Shasta daisy plant lived in a relative’s garden during a brief period of change in my life about thirty years ago.  When I was again able to establish gardens, I brought it home.  Since that time, as it spread and required dividing, I planted some in different areas of the garden. 

In the spirit of paying it forward, I gave substantial root clumps to several people – some avid gardeners including a local storekeeper who gave me a hydrangea, and some novices interested in learning about the activity that consumes most of my time and energy during good weather.

                                  

Family Tradition

As a child, my first chore was the removal of weeds from a flagstone walk -- tedious, yes, but a good lesson in tenacity.  While I enjoyed being in the garden, the plants that fascinated me most were the tall, colourful hollyhocks with their seed-filled discs.
 
We didn’t use any chemicals; only natural fertilizers applied to the rich loam soil to produce a wonderful variety of healthy, gorgeous flowers and an abundance of vegetables.  

Certainly as a child I didn’t always want to help with chores, but throughout my lifetime, gardening has been an integral part of my being.  I’ve often wondered if that was learned or inherent.  Perhaps it’s both.

My parents planned and maintained gardens throughout their lifetimes.  Though my maternal grandparents were not avid gardeners, their daughter (my mother) was.  

While searching my family’s genealogy, I discovered that my paternal grandfather was groundskeeper at The Guynd in Carmylllie, Scotland – a large country estate with landscape designs laid out between 1750 and 1860, and later at Colliston Castle in St. Vigeans Parish, Forfar.  Successful groundskeepers with considerable wide-ranging horticultural knowledge displayed their own creative designs within the original landscape architect’s site plan.

Beginning in their early years, while following me around the yard, my children touched, smelled, and asked questions about various flowers.   I’m pleased to observe that the family's gardening tradition continues.

Garden Collections

In my gardens, I find peace, beauty, and wonderful exercise.  Whenever I feel troubled about some happening in my life, I find that pulling weeds, gathering a bouquet or picking some fresh produce is great therapy. 

Very often, after sitting quietly while surveying my gardens and thinking about the many people in my life or snoozing for a few minutes, I feel completely refreshed.

There’s no hustle or bustle, there’s only the sounds of birds singing, chirping or splashing water in the birdbath, and the antics of busy chipmunks to draw my attention from the tasks at hand.  

When I moved to my current home, there were no gardens, but there was a collection of pots, tubs, and baskets filled with perennials, shrubs, and a few small trees that I brought from my previous home.  Over time, I developed several flower beds and a small vegetable patch, arranged shrubbery groupings, and successfully planted my trees. 

My gardens represent years of hard work, yes.  They represent also my artistic nature, my respect for all things natural that do not need chemicals to help them survive, and my invitation to creatures of the wild – butterflies, bees, birds, spiders, the rabbit that munches on my Swiss chard, the chipmunk who pulls out small carrots, and the deer that obviously likes the taste of Hosta plants. 

Overall, I think of my gardens, with their additional features of assorted rocks, a large tree stump, a cement “Grandma’s Garden” plaque, and a maple burl, as representations of the wonderful variety of experiences in my life.