That is the long, mournful wail I heard from Eldest when he got to our garden plot yesterday. The last remaining baby watermelon, now baseball-sized, was savaged by some kind of animal, I'm guessing raccoon or skunk. Two of the others were eaten by something and one of them just mysteriously stopped growing and shriveled.
In happier garden news, we harvested all the early variety potatoes (Norland) and we got 30 pounds despite the blight. And almost 10 pounds of carrots from the first four rows I planted.