The Scaredeer

You may recall that awhile back the deer made a stealth run through the goatmother's gardens. They feasted on strawberries, raspberries and various and sundry ornamental plants. Much like a tornado, they left a wide swath of destruction in their wake.

After that, the goatmother purchased a highly recommended product called 'Bobbex'. 'Bobbex' is made up of things like rotten eggs, catfood, garlic, pepper, and other such gustatory delights. Trust me. It stinks. I know this because the vegetable garden and the raspberries are by the barn. The 'Bobbex' worked pretty well, but the problem arose when it mostly washed off. Now how, I wonder, could that happen here? We never have rain. Anyway, that sort of torturous event makes it rather difficult to maintain a proper 'Bobbex' barrier. Acts of God and all that. Hence, the deer reconnoitered, sniffed the air, and sprang forward yelling things like 'Oo-Rah!" and 'Remember the Alamo!'.

I have to say, the damage wasn't quite as extensive as the pre-'Bobbex' period. However, the goatmother, naturally distressed by the occurrence, came up with an idea. The goatmother is chock full of ideas. Just ask the goatfather. Anyway, the goatmother got to thinking how certain smells deter deer and keep them from noshing. For example, they sell concentrated predatory animal urine for that purpose. ( Ewwwww.) Or like, of course, the 'Bobbex'. Or some folks say you can hang bars of deodorant soap. (That never works. I think deer are morally opposed to Zestful cleanliness.)

Anyway, the goatmother came up with the idea of the scaredeer. She thought imbuing articles of clothing with human scent, and stuffing them to look like an actual human, made a lot of sense. Of course the scent could not be the goatmother's because, let's face it, nothing is afraid of the goatmother. Birds land in her lap, for goats' sake! So the goatmother got the goatfather to donate a pair of ratty old jeans and a dilapidated old shirt, and forced him to wear them for days on end so they would smell like him. By the time he was finished, they could almost stand by themselves. Almost.

So what to stuff the scaredeer with? It couldn't be newspaper because that would soon become a soggy mess and the scaredeer would end up shriveled and moldy. So, the goatmother decided to stuff it with Peanuts. I became quite excited when I heard the news. I thought, 'Oy, Boy!!!! A scaredeer stuffed with mounds and mounds of these:



Unfortunately, it turned out to be mounds and mounds of these:



I was SO disappointed, I can tell you. Finally, however, the masterpiece was complete. Permettez-moi de vous presenter, Monsieur Scaredeer:



What a hunk. From his athletic legs up to his dapper blue chapeau, he is the epitome of scaredyness. And fashionable? Why just look at that trim waist with that whole Ellie-Mae-Clampett-rope-tie belt thing going on.


Oops. Barn door's open.


And just look at that I'll-huff-and-I'll-puff mighty He-man profile. Any deer in its right mind will take one look and head off to summer in Canada - or at least to the neighbor's. There's just one problem. It smells like the goatfather, and it looks like the goatfather, so how come it won't throw the Frisbee like the goatfather?


No matter how many times the goatmother picked up the Frisbee and threw it, the Mighty Quinn brought it back and left it at the feet of the scaredeer. Dogs. Oy.

Anyway, time will tell whether or not the scaredeer will be effective. We can only hope that the deer will spot it and be spurred into movement - preferably in the opposite direction. I hope I'm there to see it. After all, nothing runs like a deer.