Here's why humor helps when you try to run off animal pests
What are the odds that the new animal repellent granules I just bought will work?
After examining the plastic jug marred by animal bite marks, I've decided the odds are about as good as your finding the legendary pirate treasure buried on Biloxi's Deer Island.
I set the newly purchased container of repellent on the deck steps, near where I want to spread the granules. I'll do the deed later, says I, when the temps cool down.
I bought the repellent because something is digging in the mulch in the landscape tire in which my Jurassic Park Plantain Lilies grow. This is in addition to the spring Attack of the Rabbits, the reason they are half their normal impressive size. Now there's new digging and suspect tunnels under the mulch alongside the house. Yikes, not again!
Some years back, I battled voles and moles and their extreme tunneling with a different repellent that sorta worked. I've always believed, however, that the real deterrent is the black snakes known for their fantastic pest control abilities. In recent years I've noticed more blackies but far less voles and moles on this woodsy hill.
Determined to nip in the bud this potential new invasion of plant pilferers, I went to the farm co-op in search of a general non-toxic animal repellent. I already have a spray I use on hydrangeas and other deer-luring plants to keep Bambi from munching. That sorta works, too, if I remember to spray.
Being raised by organic gardening parents, I've adopted their no-poisons attitude to be gentler on Mother Earth and all her creatures. Poisons and pesticides are farther reaching and often deadly to more than their initial targets, so I prefer more natural remedies.
I purchased the animal repellent granules (good for squirrels, rabbits, deer, the label claims) and set the container on the deck steps to await a cooler tomorrow. The next morning the plastic jug lay akilter, battle-worn with large teeth marks and a lid partially pried, granules scattered on the deck steps.
Well, that repellent really works, I sarcastically say to self.
But today's missive is not meant to be about poisons and unexplained animal mischief. Its about laughter. When I first saw the assaulted jug, my reaction was not to cuss but to laugh.
After too many life-altering experiences, I have developed a philosophy that a sense of humor is a good defense against the trials and tribulations of life.
Whether big challenges like Hurricane Katrina or little ones like unknown animals attacking a jug of animal repellent, a dose of humor is a good prescription. That's why I often refer to “the Katrina mermaids” owning so many of my former possessions and why I laugh at the absurdity of an animal attacking a jug of animal repellent.
I'm far from perfect at adhering to this laughter-really-is-the-best-medicine philosophy, but I strive mightily. I've also noticed I'm more attracted to people who have a sense of humor, be it wacky, funny, dry, deadpan, self-deprecating, witty, goofy. As Mark Twain once said, “Humor is the good-natured side of a truth.”
Andrew Carnegie, the turn of the 20th-century philanthropist and uber wealthy Pennsylvania steel magnet whose money built Gulfport's first library, also once noted, “There is little success where there is little laughter.”
So I'll laugh as I scatter the remaining repellent around the Plantain Lilies. However, Mr. Carnegie, I do wonder about the success of this particular repellent keeping away four-legged marauders.
Perhaps I should suggest the company add a new universal label.
Warning: Humor may be hazardous to your stress, anger, grouchiness, bad health and unhappiness.
Kat Bergeron, a veteran feature writer specializing in Gulf Coast history and sense of place, is retired from the Sun Herald. She writes the Mississippi Coast Chronicles column as a freelance correspondent. Reach her at BergeronKat@gmail.com or at Southern Possum Tales, P.O. Box 33, Barboursville, VA 22923.