Post G23-033: First backyard coyote sighting.

 

As a gardener, I try to keep an eye on the thievin’ varmints wonderful creatures of nature passing through my back yard.

As a retiree, I have nothing better to do.

But my eyesight ain’t what it used to be.

Keep that in mind when I say that I’m fairly sure I saw my first backyard coyote yesterday.

The pictures you might typically see — making the coyote look like some noble offshoot of the wolf — don’t match reality of the eastern Coyote.   Around here, if you see something about the size of an adult fox, but without the good looks, chance are, that’s a coyote.  If you see an ugly brown dog with a mottled coat and a long tail, not acting like a domesticated dog, chances are good that you’ve spotted an eastern coyote.


Background

This was not unexpected.  Coyotes are native to the western U.S., and have been expanding eastward for the better part of a century.  The predominant theory is that we invited them in by killing off bigger predators (wolf, bear), and converting forest into open areas.

I got my first-hand introduction to the Eastern coyote about five years ago, camping at Sky Meadows State Park.  That sits adjacent to the ridge of the Blue Ridge.

Just at dusk, the coyotes had themselves a howl.  At first, you hear a few individuals starting it off.  You think, oh, cute, that must be a coyote.  A minute later the entire ridge is ringing with the sound of howling coyotes.  Three minutes later they wind it down, and silence returns.

It was chilling.  There aren’t a few coyotes in those woods.  Like bear, or foxes.   There were hundreds within earshot of where I was camping.  At least by the sound of them.

In short, the Blue Ridge Mountains are infested with coyotes.  Given how few bear and foxes there are left, I’m guessing coyotes are now the dominant predator species in this area.  That’s a complete change from my youth, where there were no coyotes in this area, period.

And they are here in the ‘burbs.  There have been sporadic reports of pets being eaten by coyotes, here in the  D.C. area.  I think I spotted one crossing a construction site a few years back.

But it’s a different thing entirely to find one eyeballing your back yard. It skedaddled as soon as I opened my back porch door.

I would like to think I’m not the sort of person to form an opinion about animals based on cuteness.  For example, I loathe deer, for the destruction they bring.  Despite being handsome creatures.  Foxes, I like for the fact that they eat squirrels, and not just because they are really elegant-looking beautiful animals.

Eastern coyote?  My gut reaction is, one step up from rat.  They may be noble wolf-like creatures in the western climate.  And most photos you’ll see of them make them look the part.  But around here, they look like mangy stray dogs.  As in this view, from Wikipedia:


Good or bad?

Looks aside, near as I can tell, this newest invasive species brings along only one good attribute:  They kill deer. 

Better yet, they kill baby deer. More specifically, in many areas, coyotes are the number one cause of death for fawns.  (See, e.g., this random reference).

Much of the literature on this topic comes from the deer-hunting community, which of course tut-tuts over these premature deer losses.  The deer hunters have a valid point of view.  For them, coyotes are competition.  Having eliminated wolves and nearly eliminated bear in this area, the deer hunter is the only native carnivore that’s in competition with the coyote.

By contrast, as a back-yard gardener, I’m am definitely on Team Coyote on this one. 

However.

However, coyotes are omnivores.  Sure they eat fawns.  They also eat poodles.  And squirrels.  And garbage.  And fruits and berries, if there’s nothing else around.

Oh, and they are known to attack small children occasionally.  Just thought you might want to know, in case you were still harboring some sympathy for coyotes.

This invasive species is definitely going to put some pressure on our local fox population.  And that’s a pity, because the foxes in my neighborhood don’t go around hunting down my neighbor’s cats.  Or kids.

So if the coyote succeeds in pushing out foxes, we’ll have replaced a relatively benign and good-looking wild creature with one that’s far more of a nuisance.  And ugly to boot.  But one that is capable of reducing the deer population.


Summary

If Fluffy goes missing out of your backyard any time soon, you’ll know whom to suspect.

Coyotes aren’t advertising their presence.  They aren’t howling, here, yet.  (I think that’s a large-group activity for them and they aren’t yet that numerous.)  They are stealthy, and they are hard to spot.  They are easy to mistake for a fox or a stray dog.

But they are here.  As in, prowling the suburban back-yards of Vienna VA.

In the grand scheme of ongoing slow-mo environmental apocalypse — (reference insect loss, reference global warming) — I guess this hardly even registers.  Just another nuisance invasive species to deal with.

 

Post G23-032: Paw-paws 1, Gardener 0

 

Last fall I put aside some pawpaw seeds, to see if I could grow pawpaw seedlings  (Post G22-062).

Pawpaws have a reputation for being difficult to propagate.  They don’t much like to be transplanted, so it’s better to grow from seed.  But pawpaw seeds have a reputation for having a low germination rate.

Putting these seeds into storage last fall was quite a process.  Apparently the seeds are quite picky about the conditions they will tolerate.  So I devoted an afternoon to extracting, cleaning, sterilizing, and packing up pawpaw seeds.  In particular, they cannot be allowed to dry out, and require lengthy refrigeration in damp sterile medium if you are to have any hope of germination in the spring.

Or so they say.

Continue reading Post G23-032: Paw-paws 1, Gardener 0

Post G23-031: The iron law of back-yard gardening.

 

Nature doesn’t merely abhor a vacuum.  Nature is a vacuum.

You name the delicious food plant that you’d like to grow, and I’ll find a pest that will hoover it up before you can.

Thus, the Iron Law of Backyard Gardening:

Anything that can be eaten, will be eaten.

Plan your garden accordingly.


Machine-gun emplacements optional

I had a friend over yesterday, during which time I showed him the various deer defenses for my garden area.  These are pretty much in line with my original garden plan for the year (Post G23-009), and include:

  • A square enclosure,
  • fully surrounded by a 6′ trellis,
  • which is in turn surrounded by an electric fence,
  • with motion-activated water squirters inside,
  • plus a handful of Wireless Deer Fence units,
  • a motion-activated light.
  • And some chemical deer repellent, held in reserve for the fall, when the deer get really aggressive.

I can see where some might think this is a bit extreme.  But, so far, this seems to be keeping the deer out of my garden. I’ll settle for that.

Outside the defensive perimeter, the only survivors are plants that deer won’t (typically) eat.  This year, that’s mustard, various “deer-proof” flower mixes, marigolds, and zinnias.

I don’t plant that because I’m particularly fond of it.  I plant it because the deer aren’t.


A multiple-choice question for testing your gardening maturity.

When you consider planting sweet corn in your garden, the first thing that comes to mind is:

  1. How great fresh corn will taste.
  2. Where’s the best spot to put it.
  3. How to keep the @#$)$(# squirrels (raccoons, deer) from eating it.

Score your gardening maturity level as follows:

  1. Novice
  2. Intermediate
  3. Veteran

Why?  Because if you don’t have a good solution to c) above, a) and b) just don’t matter.

This is no mere academic exercise.  I’ve been thinking about planting a little Silver Queen sweet corn in that garden.  It ticks all the boxes for something I’d like to grow.  My whole family likes it, and we can’t buy it around here, not even at the local farmers’ markets.

The old me would have simply cleared some space, planted some seeds, watered and fertilized according to directions … and hoped.  But in the squirrel-infested suburbs, I suspect that all I’d be doing is buying myself a ton of heartache down the road.

Why?  See the Iron Law of Backyard Gardening above.

Probably the existing electric fence etc. will keep the deer out.  Maybe the squirrels won’t recognize it as food.  Maybe the local crows won’t discover my tiny batch of corn.  Maybe my cucumber beetles (which double as the Southern Corn Rootworm) won’t find it.

But when I add all those up, the likelihood that I’m going to get to eat that sweet corn is pretty slim.  Absent some fairly strong and pro-active defensive measures.

Before I put a seed in the ground, I have to work out how am I going to keep the squirrels off my corn.

All else is folly.


I dis the sisters

The first thing I came across is the traditional “Three Sisters” planting method, above.  It’s actually pretty sophisticated, in that you don’t just randomly inter-plant corn, beans, and squash.  Instead, the squash is planted to form a defensive ring around the corn/beans plot.  With the idea being that (e.g.) raccoons and squirrels don’t like pushing through the prickly squash leaves, and so will leave your corn alone.

Funny thing about it, though.  As with so many things for the home garden, a lot of people repeat that story.  Almost nobody tests it.  And almost nobody reports the results of that test.  I found exactly one individual who tried it, and said it was a miserable failure for keeping squirrels out of the corn.

And I believe that, because my squirrels had no problem at all waltzing through my cucurbits in order to gnaw on my winter squash and pumpkins.  What finally put a stop to that was wrapping the pumpkins in floating row cover, which, apparently, led the squirrels to forget that there were pumpkins there.  Or something.

(Upon reflection, it’s entirely possible that modern squash varieties are a lot “tamer” than what Native Americans would have grown.  A thornier squash might in fact make a pretty good barrier against squirrels and raccoons.)

So the idea that a row of squash plants is going to deter them from going after a prize like sweet corn, that’s just fantasy.  Might work somewhere, but I’m not staking my corn crop on it.

And then for every other “home remedy” approach to keeping squirrels off corn, you can find plenty of people who tried it and had it fail. Hot pepper powder.  Peppermint oil.  Chemical repellents.  And so on.

Near as I can tell, my options are to grow my corn in a squirrel-proof cage (including six inches under the soil, and a fence roof on top), or produce enough of an electric fence/net that the squirrels can’t get over it to get to the corn.  Or, alternatively, exterminate my local squirrels, or use a squirrel-hating dog as a garden watch dog.

Given that I already have an electric fence driver, I believe that if I go through with growing Silver Queen, I’m going to surround it with a mesh-type electric fence.  If I can find or make one cheaply enough.


This is my gardening life

In hindsight, this really and truly reflects how I garden now, after just four years of intensive back-yard gardening.  Each year, what I grow is a smaller and smaller subset of what I’d like to grow.

My vegetable garden increasingly consists of plants that can fend for themselves, and those that I can feasibly protect.  Poisonous leaves (potato, tomato)?  Perfect.  Painful thorns (cane fruits)?  Ideal.  Or plants that are mostly left alone, as long as I can keep the deer off them (peas, beans, sweet potato, cucurbits).  That’ll do.

But sweet corn?  No natural defenses.  Attractive to everything that flies or walks through my yard.  Tall enough that fencing it in is a chore.  Plus, plentiful insect pests.

With sweet corn, it’s not a question of whether something will eat it.  Just when, and how much.

If I can figure out some cheap and feasible squirrel defense, I’ll give it a try.  But if that’s a crash-and-burn, I’ll buy my corn at the store just like everybody else.  And move on.

G23-030: Shocking mustard. Maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had.

 

Ever get partway through a task and thought, hmm, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea?

Such was today’s task, making mustard shocks.  That is, bundling mustard stems together so that the mustard plants would stand upright to dry, rather than lying on the ground. Continue reading G23-030: Shocking mustard. Maybe not the best idea I’ve ever had.

G23-027: Some further notes on growing yellow mustard in the home garden.

 

Edit 2/24/2024:  At the end of the day, the big fact, that nobody bothers to say, that I didn’t realize, is that you have to harvest your mustard in the cool of autumn. I guess I should have taken a hint from the fact that North American Mustard Belt is in Canada.  Restated, you can’t harvest mustard, in the summer, in Virginia.  By that I mean you can’t get flavorful, evenly-cured, pleasantly-edible, good-looking mustard seed from mustard planted as a spring cover crop, in Virginia.  Which is a pity, as mustard makes a dandy cover crop here. 

Whether or not I can plant mustard mid-summer, and get a decent crop of pleasantly-edible seed in the fall, in Zone 7 Virginia, I will find out this year.

Edit 9/4/2024:   This year I think I’m on the right path.  I planted some common yellow mustard on July 1.  It began flowering circa August 1.  It’s just about done flowering, and has mostly set seed, as of September 1.  And with any luck, temperatures will have dropped enough by the time it’s ready for harvest that I’ll actually be able to get nice, yellow, mature seed.  We’ll see in another month or two.

Original post follows.

This is another one of those notes-to-myself posts.  I’m just getting a bunch of facts that I need in one place, so I can’t lose track of them.  In this case, the facts are about growing and harvesting yellow mustard in the home garden.

I only make two points in this posting.

First, I ought to expect to get about quart of mustard seeds from every 100 square feet of planted area.

Second, I should harvest yellow mustard well before the “dry and crispy” stage shown in most internet videos on this topic.  Professional farmers either harvest it when the field is a mix of green-and-gold, seeds are all fully-formed but up to 25% remain green (for “swathing”, or cutting it to let it dry in the field).  Or they can wait until all seeds are yellow and the moisture content is no lower than 12%.

Edit 3/8/2024:  A good part of the reason you can’t harvest mustard, in Virginia, in the summer, is that the green mustard seed will NOT finish ripening in the Virginia summer heat. The heat destroys the enzymes in the plants required to finish maturing the remaining green seeds to gold.  As a result, what is described as a standard technique for actual (Northern, fall harvest) mustard farmers (swathing) does not work at all in the middle of a Virginia summer.

Search this website for other posts on growing, threshing, winnowing and using home-grown mustard seed.

FWIW, this advice applies only to yellow mustard, not to other varieties.

 

Continue reading G23-027: Some further notes on growing yellow mustard in the home garden.

G23-026 Winnowing, or, Rube Goldberg does agriculture.

 

On the plus side, I bet you didn’t expect a blog post about winnowing.

On the down side, this entire blog post is about winnowing.

Image above: Winnowing Grain, Eastman Johnson, 1879, via https://www.wikiart.org/

Continue reading G23-026 Winnowing, or, Rube Goldberg does agriculture.

G23-025: Springtime drought in the DC area. What can you do?

 

Here in the Washington DC area, we’ve been flirting with drought conditions all spring.  By mid-April, we were at the center of a little isolated area of drought.  Now, we sit at the southern edge of an area of moderate drought extending from Canada southward.   This, per the National Drought Monitor:

Continue reading G23-025: Springtime drought in the DC area. What can you do?

G23-024: Jambalaya okra: Qualitatively different.

 

I’ve been growing okra in my garden for a few years now.

I’m not sure why. 

The blossoms are pretty, as above.  And my wife likes it, so it satisfies the prime directive for vegetable gardening (grow what you’ll eat.)

But as a food source?  What a waste of space. 

I started with Clemson Spineless, the perfect okra for people who lack the courage to try something else.  I went on to grow Heavy Hitter, touted as a super-productive okra with multiple flowering stalks per plant.

Either way, I ended up with plants that didn’t start blooming until they were four or five feet tall.  And then, from a row of ugly seven-foot-tall plants, I consistently got a yield of around 0.5 pods/plant/day.   Which stops completely, well before the end of the growing season (Post G22-061, September 24, 2022).

If I had to survive off okra calories, I’d need to plant a couple of square miles of the stuff.

Upshot:  After growing it for few years, I thought I knew okra pretty well.  Lowest-yielding plant in my garden.


Jambalaya Okra

This year I decided to try Jambalaya okra.  This is a relatively new variety that gets a lot of on-line praise for being early and productive.  A simple search with Google shows me two different professional growers, in hot climates (Georgia, Texas) that describe it as “the most productive okra that they have ever grown.”

Yeah, well, I’ve read stuff like that before.

Some of the descriptions sounded like outright fantasy.  In particular, some sources said it would start producing okra pods from plants just one foot tall.

Yeah, uh-huh.  Sure thing.

But this past week, well, that turned out to be true.  I spotted an okra blossom on a plant that was way, way too small to be producing fruit.  Then, damned if they all didn’t start blossoming and setting pods.

There they are, above, with a Sharpie in the picture for scale.  Neither of the plants above is a foot tall yet.  But there they are — blossom on the left, pod on the right.

This is an F1 hybrid, so you can’t save the seeds for next year.  Each year’s seeds have to be produced by specifically cross-pollinating the two parent varieties.  They are priced accordingly, typically around 20 cents per seed, in small quantities.  (Versus something like 3 cents per seed for Clemson Spinless).

I haven’t picked a pod yet, but this is already looking way better than any okra I’ve grown in the past.  Qualitatively different.  I have a second set of seedlings, ready to go in the ground, using seed from a different supplier.  So I’ll see whether I just got lucky, with the first set of seeds, or whether this okra really is as early and productive as this first batch suggests.


Any lesson here?

This is shaping up to be the second time this year where a previous under-performing food plant surprised me.

Earlier, it was Snowbird snow peas (Post G23-017).  Until I tried that variety, I always considered peas to be useful for filling garden space until it got warm enough to plant something productive.  This year, by contrast, all said and done, I got just over five pounds of snow peas out of roughly 16 square feet of garden space.  Didn’t even need a trellis.

Now it’s Jambalaya okra.  Getting down to business way earlier than any okra I’ve grown before.

I guess the lesson here is that the most important part of gardening is selecting the right varieties.  I’m no better at growing peas this year than at any time in the past.  And okra pretty much grows itself, no care needed.  The entire increase in yield, between prior years and this one, was in stumbling across the right variety.

Who know?  Maybe somebody has bred a tasty kale, and I just need to find it.

Edit Fall 2024:  Two years later, and I cannot sing the praises of Jambalaya okra enough.  Left, there’s my Jambalaya okra nearing the end of the season.  I had never seen okra send up a flower stalk before, but that’s more-or-less how Jambalaya ended the year.  This year’s plants are still producing heavily as of 9/20/2024.  This, following weeks of high production. 

To the point where I don’t think either my wife or I would be upset if okra season ended soon. 

The upshot is that I’ve finally found an okra that’s not a waste of space.  Based on my limited experience (Clemson Spinless, Heavy Hitter, some red okra, some Burmese okra), I doubt I could find a higher-yielding okra than Jambalaya.  Nothing else has even come close.  My conclusion is that if this is an average season, 20 Jambalaya okra plants provide enough okra for two people.  YMMV.  Here in Virginia, USDA hardiness zone 7.