Backyard blues

The deer have set me back to Square One.

Square One is where you land during a bone-chilling snow- and ice-crusted, blizzardly winter that forces the bucks, does, and fawns of the neighborhood into a foraging frenzy, taking them beyond their normal plant preferences and dooming the shrubs and vegetation of a lovingly landscaped backyard.

The results aren’t pretty. More than that, they are downright dispiriting. Before you feel I’m being too harsh in judging the offenders, hereinafter referred to as the Herd of Four, let me freely concede that their suburban habitat shrinks every year. And that they were here first. And what are deer supposed to do beyond prance, look adorable, chomp flora constantly, provide Disney animators with a reliable cast of characters, and indulge in prolific procreation when their biological rutting clocks kick in?

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The view from my backyard atop the Second Orange Mountain lays bare the damning evidence. Normally each year I factor in some overwintering loss of plants and shrubs due to weather and critter consumption. This past year, however, exceeded all norms, just as it has on the political landscape. There are many intemperate words I can use to describe the results. And I’ll do so in three languages: curse, whammy, hex, klole, broch, arur, and good old standby kine hara.

These days, you can’t drive or walk (except for a few hardy souls) anywhere in suburban North Jersey without seeing deer devastation. Once perfectly conical, healthy, deeply green arborvitae and other species now display denuded and stunted shapes with their fur or leaves clipped off in perfectly uniform lines, always consistent with the neck lengths and masticating maws of the animals.

With respect to my backyard, the cunning, cloven-hoofed perps hid in plain sight, their dark winter coats providing perfect camouflage. It took me a while to spot their presence and by that time the damage had been done. The Herd of Four had turned up their noses at my prized giant emerald arborvitaes in the seven years since I had them planted, so I felt pretty confident entering winter that they would not need applications of repellent. But the deep freeze, several snowfalls, and gnawing hunger can expand an animal’s survival palette.

I purchased the emerald giants with the caveat that they were deer-resistant, not deer never-ever, and there could be no replacement guarantees. Talk about being left with a bad look. The shrubs are now shorn halfway up and I can see clear through to my neighbor’s pool and backyard down the hill. And if that weren’t enough, it became a double whammy when the Herd of Four also attacked the lower lying junipers in front of them, destroying the layered look I worked so hard to cultivate.

Remarkably, the deer left my six recently planted new emerald giants along my other neighbor’s backyard strictly alone. I’ll take the results without questioning their motives too deeply.

While Mother Nature always holds the upper hand, my enthusiasm for the upcoming gardening season hasn’t diminished. The worst of the worst winter in 30 years hopefully is behind us as we welcome Purim on March 2, daylight savings time on March 8, the spring equinox on March 20, and Passover on April 1.

Granted, it’s a liminal time, but as we finish celebrating Tu B’Shevat, all things green begin to come into focus. As the Jewish Standard and the New Jersey Jewish News highlighted in a cover story several issues back, groups such as GrowTorah are already inculcating students with the joys and historical observance of planting, cultivating, and harvesting, traits that run deep and joyfully in our Jewish DNA.

Although I’m coming off a disappointing 2025, when a combination of drought and personal illness impacted my gardening, I’m optimistic 2026 will be fruitful and fertile. I know my ever-hardy hostas are poised to poke through and add definition to the shrub beds. Last season, I eased up on repellent spraying, and the deer and ground critters got ’em. But they’ll bounce back, and this year I’m determined to make their variegated green and cream-bordered leaves last through the summer and into the fall.

And that goes for the new pollinators and the marigolds I’ll plant.  Lots of marigolds, with their peppery fragrance and yellow and orange petals adding verve to the surroundings. And on the front lawn, the sapling maple I received from West Orange Township last summer made it through the winter and is ready to add a growth ring.

It’s time to look beyond the deer damage. Maybe the new open views they bestowed on my property are really windows of opportunity.

Jonathan E. Lazarus, a retired Star-Ledger editor and a copy reader for the Jewish Standard and New Jersey Jewish News, much prefers pruning hooks and plowshares to swords and spears.