Melba's Jammin' <[email hidden]> wondered in
message news:[email hidden]...
Quoted message said:When's your court date, BTW. "-)
Hasn't happened yet.
Here's that tale...
I planted a nectarine sapling four years ago in my front yard. I did so
for three reason: space availability, almost 12-hours / day of direct
sun light, and location (it could double as a neighbor-screen between
our cars).
This year, adhering to my regular method of "let it go feral and it'll
grow" care and maintenance, the thing is producing fruit like a lemon
tree on speed. It's 1/2" limbs were arched downwards like a
fully-extended Sidewinder compound bow.
To say that I was preening like a new father holding up a record trout
is falling short of that description. I used every conversational
opportunity to point out the obvious: I was going to have too many
nectarines for Clan Ranger's consumption so a few Good Neighbors (the
type that don't harangue or offer unsolicited advice, and enjoy fishing)
were going to receive their fair share.
Into every moment of happiness some Prize Jackass has to bray his way,
though. Enter Walker #1.
Walker #1 is a passing acquaintance. I see him every morning trudging
past my castle and we nod hello. Nowhere in there do I care to know his
name, nor does he give a flying flutter about me. It's the best of all
possible situations. Somewhere, sometime, my nod hello was interpreted
as "You may help yourself to my nectarines."
Recently, as I walked out through my garage to the strip where I'd
planted this Golden Goose tree, I was witness to Walker #1 helping
himself. While I wasn't even slightly upset about that -- as I said,
it's producing nectarines like so many lemon trees -- what caught me off
balance was his wanton destruction of its light limbs and branch tips.
If a piece of fruit resisted, he'd simply snap the branch.
I walked up to him, bristling, "See these tips," I asked, reaching down
and picking up the six closest to me, "and that whole branch section?
They _were_ part of that tree! Payment is the nectarines you're packin'.
Now..."
I often joke that I have Death riding my right shoulder because of the
way people react when I'm mildly annoyed. His quick handing over of all
eight nectarines certainly helped support that claim. To make sure
there was not going to be any further misunderstandings, I added for
clarification, "Oh. And I don't expect to have this conversation with
you again." He solicitously quickstepped his way out of my sight.
I looked at the fruit in my arms. Every one was hard as cement! There
wasn't a ripe one in the lot! Coupled with the branches littering my
driveway, I decided a little more proactive harvesting was necessary.
When I returned with my shears and harvest bucket in hands, I was rather
surprised to find a whole side of the tree devoid of fruit. A closer
inspection revealed multiple branches hanging at unnatural 130° angles,
proving that several two-legged animals had been helping themselves all
along.
My ebbing generosity was quickly replaced by a need to exact some form
of revenge. I didn't have to wait more than three days, of which a
significant amount of extra interest had accrued.
A few days later, in the early morning while on my way out to take all
three daughter-units to summer school, an older lady was quietly
divesting my tree of most of its remaining fruit. Daughter-unit Alpha
thought it weird that we had our own personal picker, especially since I
hadn't mentioned it in staff, so she asked this lady who she was. The
woman ignored her and kept picking fruit. Daughter-unit Beta then took
her turn and walked up to her, asked her again who she was; and she was
ignored. Spawn, knowing she would receive similar treatment, didn't
bother but bolted inside to get me.
"Someone's at the tree again," Spawn announced at sound levels usually
only found during world cup matches.
"Dammit!" I exploded.
"She's still there," she added and turned to run back out the garage.
We both stopped as I exited the garage. "Are you going to leave any of
the greener fruit to ripen?"
The chutzpah some people use as a shield when they think they are going
to get items for free is something I have never understood. Sour Puss
turned and looked me square in the eyes, sneered a tsk in my direction,
and then turned back around to finish the u-pick process at Ranger's
Public Farms.
"Since you're too stupid to understand that I'm asking you to leave," I
said nonchalantly, "I'll explain it in a simpler way." I took one large
step to my right where I coil my garden hose and gave the spicket a full
turn. 60psi shot through the green rubber tubing and roared out the
sprayer nozzle twelve feet. All three daughter-units vaulted away like
nimble little gazelle.
Sour Puss got it full in the back and head.
The Safeway bag, laden with her ill-gotten loot, dropped and scattered
over twenty fruit hither-and-yon. Sour Puss, head ducked between her
shoulders, ran back to the sidewalk, ten feet away, thinking I'd stop
spraying her once she reached the safety of that particular patch of
cement.
I didn't.
I kept spraying her the remaining 55' to the end of my property line.
She was one wet feline by the time I'd finished making my point. All
three daughter-units quickly filed into the car firing off
statement-questions as I pulled away.
As we drove past Sour Puss, she attempted a Withering Glare. I stopped
and rolled down my window. "Don't ever come onto my property again. I
won't be nearly as kind next time."
Unknown to me, Jeff (a neighbor down the street) had witnessed the
entire incident -- it'll probably be featured on some live-cam video
program soon. He also has a fruit tree (a Meyer Lemon) out front. When I
returned from drop-off, he ambled his 300 lb bulk over as I was picking
up all the fruit in the bag. "Mornin', [Range]. Had a good laugh at,"
and he pointed down to the loot. "I've always wanted to do that too!" He
continued to laugh. "I got to thinking, though," he said
sympathetically. "I use something that I think you'll appreciate." He
offered me a cellophane wrapped package."
"What is it?"
"Tree netting. It's like a hair net for trees. Originally," he said, "it
was to prevent those damned jays from stealing my tree's fruit but it's
reaped an unexpected bonus. Those GDFs leave my tree alone as well
since, it seems, none of them carry a knife or shears."
"Cool. Thank you very much. How much?"
"Free. It was worth it just watching her get soaked when you didn't stop
at the sidewalk."
The Ranger
