The Trials of Spring: Pleading Your Case with Nature's Judge

by June Pair Kilpatrick

Just who planted these daffodils?

Obviously, it was not the furry, four-legged creature, the one who helped himself to them, snapping the buds off for a midnight breakfast before they even bloomed. The daffodils, your Honor, and I can state this with my hand on the Good Book, were planted by the same two-legged creature who pleads before you, the one who goes out to the glassed-in porch each morning to walk on the treadmill, eats Cheerios and blueberries before she goes, and has never, ever been known to consume a daffodil. She has watched them closely through the glass while going through two and a half months of winter travail on the treadmill, through all the mornings of January, February, and half of March. From the moment the little green spears poked through the ground, she has eagerly awaited the yellow cup that would signify the arrival of spring. Actually the crop of yellow cups, for there were many. Or there would have been.

That proves a furry creature is guilty. The problem is, there are numerous furry creatures with paths through the yard. Your first suspect might be the ubiquitous Deer. Mine was. But in the Deer's defense, I must say, first, your Honor, that I have never known him to venture this close to chomp down my tulips. And second, that whereas his taste for tulips is well established, he is not known for even liking daffodils. For the first time ever, I am inclined not to charge the Deer with this crime.

Another furry one, also ubiquitous, is the Squirrel. He tracks through this yard and along the split-rail fence in broad daylight, twitching his tail and helping himself to water from the birdbath, seed from the birdfeeders, seeds from the pine cones, and whatever else appeals to his ravenous appetite. He believes himself to be the owner of this property. However, in his defense, I must plead, your Honor, that I have never seen him show the least bit of interest in a daffodil.

Now, what about the Bunny who also frequents this yard in the spring and summer? Well, you see, he's cleared already. The calendar says spring, but the Bunny hasn't seen the calendar and, cold as it is, he would have no other clue.

So, who's left? Probably not the Fox, although he, too, travels through the yard at will, as does the Skunk.

So in the absence of any real proof, your Honor (yes, I understand that weakens my case), I'm going to point to the creature who actually lives on this property, and lives here in fine style, I might add. In the backyard stands a sturdy little gazebo, built by The Man of the House several years ago, just about the time our former next door neighbor was out by his shed firing off rounds of ammunition (yes, I know that's illegal, your Honor) to get rid of the Groundhog who lived under his shed. Said Groundhog, as it turned out, was no dummy. The shots convinced him that he had been evicted. From his long-time home under the shed, he migrated the shortest distance possible and dug in (literally) under our lovely gazebo. He tunneled in from the east side, and didn't stop till he emerged on the west side. An entrance and an escape. Clever. On warm summer days, he can be seen sunning himself near his luxurious quarters, and if it rains he ducks inside the gazebo and lounges on the furniture. In fact, your Honor, more than once I have had to carry a bucket of soapy water and a broom out there to clean up after him, if you understand what I'm saying.

In summation, your Honor, my golden daffodils are missing and so is spring. I rest my case.