Deerstalkers: Ready, aim ...

It takes a lot to get my wife riled up. She is loved and admired by all who know her.

So it was rather startling to hear her focus some well-placed wrath on a forest creature rarely considered to be an enemy of civilization as we know it.

This week my wife's tolerance was sorely tested. And what she had to say can be summed up in two words:

Kill Bambi.

OK, that's a paraphrase, not her exact words. What she said was this: Cape Girardeau needs an organized deer hunt.

If the mayor or any council members had been in our kitchen when my wife let loose on the growing deer population within the city limits, she would have given them a piece of her mind.

Here's what happened.

As most of you know, I have battled much of the animal kingdom my entire life. Squirrels devour the bird food I put out for our feathered friends. They also dig up freshly planted flower bulbs and take bites out of ripening tomatoes. Rabbits gnaw on tender shoots that, left alone, would turn into gorgeous flowers. Raccoons use our patio fountain as a personal spa. Possums plow through the lawn.

My wife can tolerate most of that.

Her kind and gentle nature has been tested, however, by the deer who wander through our yard and nibble on the smorgasbord of flowers. She has taken to planting flowers she doesn't even like because greenhouse experts told her the deer wouldn't eat them. That's why we have lantana in the front urns. My wife chose lantana over my suggestion: prickly pear cactus.

Now the deer are getting bolder. They have found our backyard, which has flower beds everywhere you look. And this year we hung two of the upside-down planters with tomato plants from the roof of the garden shed.

We have had many failures with our plantings in this yard over the years. My wife firmly believes that before the houses were built in our neighborhood 50 years ago the land was a toxic dump.

Slowly, we have found plants that not only tolerate our soil but thrive in some cases.

Take the prairie phlox. Last week, the phlox blossoms disappeared, neatly clipped off too high for a rabbit.

Then I noticed that all -- all -- of the green tomatoes on one of the hanging plants had disappeared, even the ones six feet off the ground. This week, all the green tomatoes on the other hanging plant vanished.

My wife fumed when I told her the news. Enough is enough, she said. When is the city going to do something about this? What next?

Actually, I think I can answer that last question. You see, there are only two ways in and out of our backyard at either end of the house. In the middle is a big patio door. If the deer visiting the backyard ever get spooked, I think I know which exit they will aim for.

So if you're in our neighborhood at night, please be quiet. Don't make any startling noises. We do not want a deer in the family room.

What we want, Mr. Mayor and council members, is no deer.

jsullivan@semissourian.com