Serves me right!!!
This is a whimpering rant...
For too long now I've been, well, let's say, relieved that I don't have voles, moles, racoons and other northern wildlife prancing through my garden. (Yes. You could say 'smug'. It's deserved.)
So, today, there's a break in the rain and I'm out nattering to the spring things making their appearances. And I come to the pot of Tulip sylvestris. (Now, I've been cosseting this single bulb for about three years. I dreamed of flowers this year...)
It came as an infant. I've done all the Happy Bulbs Prefer things and it was bulking up nicely. It ought to be showing signs of life I thought. I shall Check.
Hubris, pure and simple. A dose of Gardener's Humility was heading my way.
Something else has been watching and it has 24/7 to plot and scheme and twiddle its wretched mandibles. A fat over-indulged pot-camping native cricket. A weta.
Munch. Crunch. Leaving nothing but a discarded brown tunic and the shell of a once-proud sylvestris.
(Breaks down into sobs of wild grief and fury.)
Screen door mesh at the bottom of every pot of my Preciouses from now on! It has to be!
(Trails off, sniffing. Humility, and deep sympathy for anyone who loses a Precious to marauding invertebrates - or even fellow mammals.)