We're Organic Farmers. It's Just That We're Twenty-first Century Organic Farmers

There's a hole in the deer fence somewhere. My evidence: a pile of deer poop in one of the squash beds. The squash is planted in landscape fabric - long sheets of woven black plastic, holes cut down the center, the edges weighed down by rocks. It's nifty stuff - it chokes out the weeds and preserves heat and moisture. Unsightly, I will grant you, but it saves a tremendous amount of time. Um, unless you're a dung beetle.
The deer poop was on the fabric, and the dung beetle was trying, awkwardly but stubbornly, to bury it. She rolled a few balls over this way, and then rolled them over that way. She piled a few up here, then a few up there. She had made little progress burying by the time I finished picking squash, but she'd shifted a bunch of dung around.
We're bug friendly around here. We're pollinator friendly, and spider friendly. We even once thought about breeding flies. Until this morning I would have thought we were dung beetle friendly, and would have been mistaken. There's always something I haven't thought of.