Organic Garden vs. Satan’s Rodents: The Backyard Bloodbath

As a nature lover, I really don’t want to have rage in my heart when it comes to little varmints but all the relaxing lake days on earth can not soothe my soul when the local ground squirrels treat my front yard like Souplantation, Big Bear Lake. I have spent way too much of my free time this summer, no not indulging in salads made from homegrown red leaf lettuce but googling ground squirrel deterrents kill these fluffy assholes.

A less emotionally compromised person might have typed “how to keep ground squirrels out of a garden” into Google or perhaps “ground squirrel deterrents for dummies.”

I, however, went full-on bitchy gardener. I may or may not have rage-posted in our local Big Bear Lake Facebook group, asking, “Anyone know how to murder all these ground squirrels treating my organic garden like it’s a Whole Foods buffet?” It was said in my best Tina Fey voice, but apparently, sarcasm doesn’t translate well to community guidelines. Our Facebook group moderator says I have too much gardeners’ angst.

Anywho, I’m in Facebook jail. Again. Apparently, suggesting a rodent genocide is frowned upon, even if they’re stealing your arugula like a bunch of hippies at lunchtime. I swear, this woke world we live in, you can’t even insult rodents these days! So, how do you come up with some ground squirrel deterrents without burning down the neighborhood and the ground squirrel den under your neighbor’s vacation home?

I’m still working on the most tried and true ground squirrel deterrents. In the meantime, I’ve begun to name each squirrel after ex-coworkers I loathed. That one chewing through my petunias? That’s Clay. We all remember Clay. The one giving me side-eye from the raised beds? Simon, who was always too busy doing coke in the bathroom to actually, you know, work. These bushy-tailed dirt colored demons now live rent-free in my yard and my trauma.

Natural Methods for Ground Squirrel Deterrents

Yes, I know, there’s squirrel poison on Amazon. But that feels like Plan Z (after netting, fencing, interpretive dance, and prayer). Also, guess what, you can’t purchase ground squirrel poison in this hippie blue state I live in (California)

So, let’s talk deterrents that might actually work before I turn into the Dexter of backyard gardening:

Irish Spring Soap – Allegedly repels squirrels. Smells like my dad in the 90s. It also repels husbands, children, and anyone with a working nose. But if it keeps Chad the Squirrel away from my strawberries, I’ll hang a bar on every tomato cage.

My signature tonic:
Mix Dawn dish soap, garlic, white vinegar, and cayenne powder. Apply liberally like it’s your summer bronzer. Squirrels hate it.

Capsicum & Peppermint Oil – Squirrels hate spicy and minty. Basically, they’re toddlers. Soak cotton balls in peppermint oil and scatter them around. Bonus: your garden will smell like an angry mojito.

Cayenne pepper from Costco – Yes, buy it in bulk. Sprinkle it like you’re seasoning karmic retribution. Just don’t touch your eyes. Or… any part of your body you’re emotionally attached to.

Predator urine – You can buy it online. Or you can do what I did after one too many margaritas: pee in your garden and scream, “NOT TODAY, SATAN!” Let’s just say the squirrels were confused. And so were the neighbors.

What Doesn’t Work (Ask Me How I Know)

Plastic owls – The squirrels laughed. I think they used it as a perch to mock me. I saw one giving it a little kiss. Honestly, I felt betrayed by this “Great idea for defending my backyard” I saw on social media. I’m looking at you, TikTok.

Netting – Sure, it works. But now my garden looks like a sad produce section in a Soviet-era grocery store.

Fencing – ChatGPT told me to build a four-foot fence. Which is adorable. These asshats just dig under it. ChatGPT also told me to journal my feelings. Thanks, HAL 9000.

Loud noises & sudden movements – I tried blaring YMCA and doing the Trump Dance. Didn’t scare the squirrels, but my Patriot neighbors gave me a standing ovation. Pretty sure they nominated me for something.

Letting the dog loose – The dog caught nothing but feelings and then lay down in the lettuce bed for a nap. Useless.

Squirrelageddon: A Cautionary Tale of Gardening and Vengeance

At this point, it’s personal. I didn’t spend $273 at the nursery just to be robbed blind by a rodent with commitment issues and dead eyes. These squirrels messed with the wrong over-caffeinated, sunburned woman in a visor.

So if you see me out back, wielding a bottle of Dawn garlic tonic in one hand and a bar of Irish Spring in the other, muttering about Chad, don’t worry. I’m not losing it. I already lost it. Around the time the spinach vanished overnight.