I’m considered quite hospitable, but sometimes, no matter how loving, guests can be destructive

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I agree, the world is my family, but you have not met my ravaging guests. They strip bare my plants and shrubberies with a vengeance.

I closed off their egress, but kept the driveway open. But now they feel safer, and visit me even more.

Oh,  they’re sneaky! Sometimes from the distance, I see something moving strangely. Those rapacious chomping mouths are back!

Roses and nasturtiums are like candy, and full bloomed hydrangea like lollipops. A curry leaf plant I nurtured through years was left outside briefly. I returned to see twigs stripped of leaves.  Fruit trees stand no chance.

They’re this family of mom, dad, and kids. They look so loveable, but they are destructive little monsters. Of late, I chase them out every time I see their presence. They know the drill.

I see them on this misty spring morn. I quickly wear garden clogs, and start tracking them. The earth is wet, and it provides clues. The fresh hoof prints betray  them like the turned on location app.

There they are, munching on the tenderest, youngest spring greens. Poor plants do not even have a chance with these avid chompers.

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Shoo-shoo!

I make my presence felt, and I begin to witness my patient training. Obediently, they gather immediately to climb down the steps, go past the fence, skirt cross the meadow, and in a single file leave the driveway behind the safety of oleander bushes. This is how I have routinely trained them.

One last time before they disappear in line behind the bushes, they pause to look at me with plaintive doe eyes, hoping I will relent. Sadly for them, I do not. With my stentorian voice, I think I’ve convinced them who’s the boss.

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The Challenger

But the  pesky little rebel always challenges me. He likes to peel off the family fold, and go back. The others do not leave, they patiently wait till he gets back. In the past, he had made me go in circles, but now, I am well aware of his tricks. I successfully manage to make him toe the line, and off he goes with the family.

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I stand to make sure they leave, and I even say a loving goodbye to them. Upon seeing them leave, I can at least offer an “olive branch,” by dropping my gruff exterior.

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I go back, satisfied at my alpha femaleness. With my cup of tea, I survey the view from my windows like a colonial conquerer.

There’s no breeze, but something’s moving. I peer closely, and see the monster masticators are at it again. They look at me, and their noses twitch, betraying a smirk perhaps. But the little one has a look that screams, “Sucker!”