The deer in my orchard
A parable for managing challenging volunteers.
Now that the clocks have “sprung” forward, each morning the dog wakes up at an ungodly hour. And even though we live in Maine, the easternmost state in the Union, it’s still pitch dark when we go outside to start her day.
The other morning I made out a trio of deer munching away at my apple trees, semi-cloaked in the predawn darkness. But my miniature Aussie Doodle’s merciless, ancestral killer instinct alerted her to the deer and their nefarious presence. She chased after them with a comic ferocity until the deer bounded mockingly into the neighbor’s woodlot and disappeared.
Who knows what would’ve happened if she reached them? Would she have cuddled them into submission? Would they have given her a treat? Would they have apologized for the incursion? I’m actually glad we didn’t find out, but suffice to say my 25-pound fleece missile chased those deer into another zip code.
As many of you know, I love my apple trees. I even named my consulting firm Rootstock Philanthropy, a nod to the importance of selecting the appropriate rootstock to match your fruit-harvesting ambitions. I’ve found tremendous satisfaction in growing my orchard from scratch. I started with a dozen saplings and have nurtured them for the last half-decade, with the distant hope of fall cider pressing and homegrown Thanksgiving pie. My trees have started to bear fruit, too. It’s a beautiful thing.
But deer are my arch-nemesis. They itch themselves by rubbing against the branches and gnaw on the greenwood shoots. Thankfully they’re easily spooked - I mean, what the hell is a 25 pound Labradoodle going to do to a deer - but they make a mockery of my efforts to grow apples. It’s almost enough to turn this pacifist into a deer hunter.
But I could never do that because, well, deer are beautiful creatures after all.
So what am I to do? Erect a 6-foot deer fence around the property? Spray the trees with habanero oils and give Bambi the ol’ hot face? Hang bars of Irish Spring soap in the tree branches (deer apparently hate the smell)? Build a turbo-charged robot collie that hides in the orchard and chases anything furry and brown?
All of the above?
This deer - ahem - situation got me thinking about how deer in my orchard could be a metaphor for managing challenging donors or volunteers at your nonprofit organization. We all know the type. The volunteers who won’t do what you need them to do, or make the calls you want them to make, because they have other ideas about what your organization should be doing. The donors who claim to know how to raise money, or will only donate if you do such and such or hire so and so.
These are the deer in your orchard. And as a fundraising leader, you have choices for how to manage these beautiful, pie-eyed, detrimental, pests. You can either let them eat your trees and destroy the fruitful orchard you’re building, or you can develop some thoughtful mitigation strategies that keep you on the ball.
One idea would be to try a version of my very unscientific Miniature Aussiedoodle approach. Find a volunteer who is truly non-threatening. Coach them to approach challenging volunteers and donors with a disarmingly direct message: Please stop doing what you’re doing, or please consider taking your volunteer duties seriously.
Maybe you’ll have the same outcome I did with Jazzie, and the volunteer/donor will cease their destructive behavior without reverting to bars of soap (because it’s messy), fences (because they’re expensive), and chemicals (because they’re harmful). If not, the donor won’t feel put out because the person you’ve chosen is politically deft and nonthreatening.
No downside, only upside.
Do you have a Jazzie at your organization? Or better yet, how have you managed the proverbial deer in your orchard?