Gopher Gulch: The hairy problem of composting

In last week’s episode of this “How Not To” serial, I bragged about not leaving anything out for B’rer Bear. On the morning of publication, I woke to find my nice compost bin scattered around the yard in several pieces. Such messes are often starting points for a woman with the insatiable curiosity of the elephant’s child. It was just one more piece of the life puzzle, if I could only figure out what it meant.

That compost bin hasn’t been bothered in years, so why now? I refuse to believe it’s punishment for playing in the harbor on my bike when I might have been doing something productive. Contrary to popular opinion, divinity in all its forms honors play.

The first step to figuring this new puzzle piece is, “What’s missing?” What’s missing is watermelon rind — lots of watermelon rind. I’m a seasonal forager who never resists a temptation. This time of year I could live on watermelon, rice and fish, and only the watermelon rind gets to the compost bin.

Still, if I put it in the compost bin, I’ll just have to gather up all the pieces and reassemble it again, and each time there seems to be fewer pieces. I know that feeding the bear is not doing him any favors, but I’m flummoxed by a hairy quadruped.

People with orchards deal with these concerns all the time, but it’s my first time. Until the last couple of years, neighboring electric fences kept bears out of this area, but the system has broken down somewhere.

Bears are both bigger and faster than me and nearly as unpredictable as people. They can make that dark trek from hot tub to house very interesting.

I now understand why my mother made that scary noise when she saw a bear cub and I together near the outhouse. I know bears are faster than people, because I’m the one she caught.

And that’s how I’ve ended up leaving offerings of watermelon rind and corn cobs on the altar of the god of compost bins. I confess to putting the rind on the open ground in front of the lop-sided, battered bin. In the morning, the rind is gone but the compost bin is relieved.

It’s not a perfect solution, but someone has a full belly and I can now wiggle free. Dilemmas are much more trouble than bears.