The strawberries were given to me by my Mom who dug them up just as they were fruiting, so they didn't produce more than a dozen berries. Not that I got any. The blueberries were just about ripe for the picking last week. But we didn't get a single one. Because even though we have a fence around that garden, there are about a half-dozen chickens that manage to flap-flap-flap their way up and over and into that succulent berry feast.
So even though we just planted the grapes this spring and I don't have any high hopes of getting much of a grape harvest, I do not want to lose all three types of fruits to the stinking chickens.
|There is a chicken-created crater around this little bush.|
And do you see all the blueberries? Me neither.
So two nights ago as the biddies were going to roost, I caught the known perpetrators and clipped their wings. And they haven't been in the garden since. I haven't done this before now because I was worried that the inability to fly would make them an easier target for the numerous carnivores hanging around the woods. But if I don't get any berries out of this stinking garden, I will be the carnivore they need to worry about because I'll soon be munching on some fried chicken.