A gardener once told me that one day the birds and I would be able to share the fruit on our fig tree.
I dismissed this at the time as feel-good hippy greeny bullshit, but strangely enough, it seems that maybe she was right in the end. After years of having the fruit stripped from my various trees every summer, this year I have finally stumbled on the solution of crop protection bags. These actually work, unlike the bird netting that was a complete failure year after year, at least in my hands.
Here they are in situ, and I’ve eaten several lovely figs today.
Note the car in disguise in the foreground; I’m hoping the neighbours forget what make I’ve got. Dog included for size.
The main problem with the bags is getting access to the various branches of the tree to put them on. Of course, I want as much of the figs for myself as I can get, but at what expense? One must be sensible. This morning I got a branch across the forehead which has left a nasty scratch, but it could have taken an eye out. The fruit high up in the tree comes at an even greater risk, as I discovered wobbling precariously on my stepladder just now. Any level of paraplegia or even a broken bone is too great a cost, even at $3 per fig as I found at the supermarket the other day. So, the birds are going to get their fair share of the hard to reach fruit right at the top of the tree. I think I have reached some sort of cosmic balance now, just as the gardener predicted.