I want better pests

I realise this is going to be a controversial gardening opinion, but I think New Zealand’s garden pests are a bit boring. Not the insect pests. Those can all leave immediately. I’m talking about the furry pests. The cute pests. The pests that make you sigh dramatically and say, “Oh no, what have you done now?” while secretly taking seventeen photos of them. We don’t really have those.

What do I have?

Possums. Hares. Rats. It’s hardly a Disney movie, is it?

The possums are the closest thing we have to a cute garden pest. At first glance they’re quite appealing. Big eyes. Fluffy ears. Soft-looking fur. They look like something you’d happily cuddle beside a fireplace. Then you hear one. If you’ve never heard a possum at night, imagine being stalked through a horror movie by a middle-aged man with severe breathing difficulties. Nothing destroys cuteness faster than sounding like an axe murderer hiding behind the rhododendrons.

Then there are the hares. I have several. Or possibly one. I genuinely have no idea. All hares are called Harold. I don’t care whether they’re male or female. They’re all Harold. This started because I have an ornamental hare in the living room called Harold, and once you’ve named one hare Harold, all hares become Harold. It’s just science.

Harold spends most of his time racing through the garden at speeds that suggest he owes money to someone. Even Miss Dog can’t catch him. Occasionally Harold pauses long enough to grind his teeth on the trunks of my young trees, which is less charming than it sounds.

Meanwhile, other countries have proper garden pests.

America has squirrels. I’ve seen squirrels in Central Park. They’re outrageously cute. They’re tiny woodland accountants running around with little armfuls of nuts, looking busy and productive. I imagine they spend their afternoons collecting acorns, organising storage systems, and helping with general garden tidiness. I’m assured by Americans that squirrels are actually destructive little gremlins. I choose not to believe them.

Then there are chipmunks. Who gets chipmunks? Why don’t we get chipmunks? I already have names picked out. Alvin. Simon. Theodore. I would happily overlook any amount of garden destruction if it was being carried out by something called Theodore.

“What have you DONE Theodore!!”.

So cute.

And moles. I know moles would annoy me.

I know this.

But they also make me feel like I should be living in a storybook. Imagine wandering through the garden and discovering a molehill. Very Wind in the Willows. Very whimsical. Very British countryside. Probably much less whimsical when they’re tunnelling under your prize plants, but I don’t have to deal with that reality, so I can remain romantic about it.

Of course if we’re doing Wind in the Willows properly, I’d also need foxes. My hens would strongly oppose this plan. I understand their concerns. However, foxes are adorable. As a fellow ginger, I feel there would be a natural kinship between us. A mutual understanding. A shared appreciation of red hair. The chickens may view them as agents of chaos. I choose to view them as woodland cousins.

Instead, my reality is possums, hares and rats.

And let’s talk about rats. People always say rats are intelligent. People say they’re misunderstood. People say they’re actually quite clean. None of this matters. Have you seen the tail? The tail alone is enough to cancel every positive personality trait.

Mice are cute. I can catch a mouse and relocate it outside while delivering a gentle lecture about boundaries. Rats are a completely different category of animal. It’s the thickness of the tail.

Don’t blame me. I didn’t make the “how thick can a tail be before it becomes gross?” rule.

So yes, I know that if New Zealand actually had squirrels, chipmunks, moles and foxes, I’d probably spend half my gardening life complaining about them. But because we don’t have them, I get to enjoy them from a safe distance and imagine they spend their days being charming little woodland companions instead of destructive pests.

I’d import some but apparently this is exactly the sort of idea that would result in a very serious conversation with the Ministry for Primary Industries. As it turns out, New Zealand’s biosecurity authorities take a surprisingly dim view of random gardeners importing squirrels because they “look cuddly.” Honestly, they have no vision.

So for now I’ll stick with Harold, the heavy-breathing possums, and the occasional reminder that the rest of the world gets much cuter garden problems than we do.

Some people want fewer pests. I just want better ones.

Did you know?

Plants don't just sit there doing nothing all night. While we're asleep, they're quietly on the move. Leaves droop, stems stretch, and entire plants subtly reposition themselves in response to light, temperature, and their internal rhythms. Speed it up with a time-lapse camera and suddenly your garden looks less like a peaceful sanctuary and more like a botanical flash mob. It does make me wonder what else they're getting up to after dark. I like to imagine the hostas are inching closer to the good soil, the roses are settling old scores, and the weeds are coordinating tomorrow's invasion.

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