More from the land: Woodland creatures eat more than your garden 

Gardening season is here. People young and old, from every walk of life, are currently wrist-deep in the earth, sowing seeds or installing plants, and hoping for a summer of bounty. 

I used to be one of those people. I looked forward to the spring like the anticipation of a child to Christmastime, marking Good Friday on the calendar and making sure my preparations were complete. I’ve had a garden most of my adult life, whether a few potted tomatoes and pepper plants on an apartment patio or a sprawling backyard plot, I’ve always gotten my hands dirty and grown something. It’s a much more honest endeavor than, say, typing words on a keyboard all day. 

The last garden under my care was planted a couple of years ago. All my effort was going to feed the deer, squirrels and rabbits that overpopulate my property. My home butts up against the property of a hunting club. Perhaps the edible woodland creature population was pushed in my direction, or the current members are bad shots. Whatever the reason, there are clearly no predators lurking about, because the prey has taken over. 

Sick of finding gnawed vegetables in the yard or plants stripped of their leaves during morning waterings, I’ve given up for now; my garden spot, complete with brick-paved path, is a weed and grass-riddled mess. 

For the uninitiated, Good Friday is when you’re supposed to plant your garden, or so the old belief goes. Good Friday was always the day my dad and grandfather hooked the seeder up to the tractor and laid out a few rows of corn and peas for the summer. They let me drive the tractor a few times, but I prefer walking behind the rig, keeping an eye on the seed hopper and making sure everything was working appropriately. Besides, my garden rows were always crooked, even more so than my orchard rows. 

But this weekend is far more than the indicator of planting time. For the Christian believer, Easter is one of the most important dates on the calendar and the whole weekend is filled with special services, events and family gatherings, including, if you have children, at least one egg hunt.

My home is also not fit for such occurrences because, you guessed it, woodland creatures. A few years ago, we prepared a surprise Easter morning egg hunt for the kids. By prepare I mean we paid a secret Easter bunny to scatter and hide 100 candy-filled plastic eggs in the front yard. The spectacle was met with wonder and excitement, of course, but a good number of the eggs had been pilfered, taken from their hiding spots, cracked open and robbed of their sweet contents. Scattered in the yard were the pastel-colored wrappers of mini-chocolate bars, taffy and jellybeans. 

There was no use tallying the containers to see if they were all accounted for. I merely cleaned up the litter while the kids enjoyed hunting the eggs that made it through the night. 

Walking in the woods I still occasionally come upon a plastic egg, faded with time, stashed away by an industrious squirrel for a rainy day.