SEPTEMBER 30, 2026 – Today I learned that I’m not the only one defending trees against the deer. Over lunch with an emissary of Bowdoin, I learned that she and her husband are also building tree cages and applying deer-repellant on trees to protect against deer damage. At the St. Croix Falls (WI) Menard’s store on my way to the Red Cabin this afternoon, I encountered half a dozen people very familiar with my mission: protecting white pine and hemlocks from rutting deer. In each case, the person said, “Good luck with that” with a tone of resignation.
At the “Returns and Exchanges” counter, when I mentioned my deer-defense plans to the clerk, he told me (after saying “Good luck with that”) that I should plant things that “deer don’t like” around the trees I want to protect because the plants will act as a kind of repellant.
“Like what sorts of things?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” the clerk said. “You’ll need to consult a horticulturalist. My brother’s one, but not me.”
Immediately, the two guys behind me, both looking quite seasoned in outdoor matters, said—one right after the other (after “Good luck with that”)—“You, should plant red pine, instead of white pine” and “Ah, let ’em be. The deer are part of the woods too, and besides, they can’t eat all the trees.”
I thanked them for their input, wished them a nice day and exited the store—smiling but stopping just short of laughing at my attempt to manipulate nature. Assigning special attention to two or three saplings in one’s yard is one thing but assuming “responsibility” for a whole forest?—”That,” I told myself is rather ludicrous, and “that’s exactly what you’re attempting to do.”
The reason I’d been at the “Returns and Exchange” counter in the first place was to substitute eight treated 1 x 2s for the eight treated 2 x 2s I’d purchased just minutes before at the “Building Materials” counter at the opposite end of the store. (When I’d described my project to the clerk there, he’d said, “Good luck with that.” The clerk at the next station said the same thing—“Yeah, good luck with that!”). When I helped myself to the 2 x 2s in the outside lumber shed, however, I realized that what I’d designed for protection of the flourishing hemlocks I’ve planted, would be too heavy; too difficult to put into place. On the spot, I modified my design to use 1 x 2s and achieve a 50% reduction in weight.
I purchased only eight—for a single hemlock—to test my design. If it’s acceptable, I’ll go whole hog and build cages for other hemlock saplings that put on explosive growth this past season, despite the drought.
After spending far too much time inside the store, I finally resumed my trip to the Red Cabin.
Over the years, the range and ubiquity of public radio stations in NW WI have expanded. Learning about stuff would seem to be a desirable offshoot of this public radio phenomenon—an interview of a staff writer for The Atlantic, who with $10,000 “experiment cash” from the magazine, participated in online sports gambling for 12 months to gain firsthand experience (it was rather fascinating); reports on the FlyDubai plane that the pilot apparently tried to fly into the ground; a tragic story about how foster kids with special needs are at much higher risk; extensive reporting on the most recent “report card” (based on testing last March) revealing abysmal performance of Minnesota school kids in math and reading—with one explanation being the detrimental effects of ICE’s Operation Metro Surge: students’ fear, checkered attendance, and inattention; yesterday’s AI confab at the White House; et cetera.
By the time I reached the fall splendor of my destination, my ears and thoughts were ringing with the din of the planet beyond my own little world. In an instant, however, the colorful paradise of my lacustrine surroundings overwhelmed the issues that define our times. Bright lateral sunshine lit up the woods, and the warm, humid air gave the lie to fall, to today being the last day of September. The temperature outside—72F—was higher by 12 degrees than the inside temp, and I appreciated the irony of having to open doors and windows to chase the chill from the inside of the Red Cabin.
After unloading the car, I jumped into work clothes and went straight to work on the main project of this trip: pulling out the dock at the pontoon landing. In acknowledgment that age is a one-way street, I’d anticipated with some trepidation attempting this on my own again this year. I was most concerned about removing the decking and hauling it all up the staircase to the top of the berm, but in the event, it was all quite easy. In less than 20 minutes, taking my time, I’d completed the biggest task of the project. I have all day tomorrow and most of Friday to complete the job.
I thus gave myself leave to go on a leisurely hike before sundown. For this special dispensation in self-recognition of my efficiency, I was especially grateful. My walk was filled with magic provided by the reclining sun landing on countless leaves shouting out their brief but brilliant colors. Along the shore, water driven by a slight breeze lapped and gurgled upon the stones. Two hundred feet out, a couple of anglers sat quietly at anchor, while a musky, I imagined, circled the boat, wondering how to take the bait without getting hooked. “Good luck with that,” I thought.
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
