Establishing Boundaries

The old saying goes: "Fences make good neighbors." You've no doubt heard this.

Well, just as farms need fences, so, too, do people need boundaries. In either case, it is a function of safety.

After we moved to the farm, one of the first things on our agenda was to make a massive yard for our six dogs. Missy, my Covid-era foster-fail, has a penchant for wondering. Hence, we call her: "Missy in action." To the river. To the neighbors--(they offer dog treats). Once to the police--to be told another day.

After getting quotes from fencing companies projecting starting 5 to 6 months later, we (meaning, my honey) decided we could DIY it. Two weeks later, the lumber arrived, and five days after that, I had a gorgeous three-rail, full-round cedar fence, double the footprint of what I originally planned, for the dogs to go crazy in.

He even built a paddock off of the barn, which paved the way for us to adopt the mini horses for Lotus at Christmas.

The chickens, however, had the run of the place. After Chloe got attacked by one of the dogs, we erected a chicken run. Still, I would always leave the gate to the run open for them to go and forage into the woods or wander into the horse pasture. Chickens are voracious fly and tick eaters--pasture and pest management at its finest. They would even fly over into the dog yard, which was fine now that Missy was trained to think of them as "farm siblings."

My joy was palpable every time I would come home and see several of the chickens ("my ladies" as I call them,) greeting me in the driveway, or watching them through the kitchen window as they mingled with the horses.

That idyllic scene came crashing down on Tuesday when right under our noses, some predator snatched four of our chickens--we were working in the barn and yard with all dogs present. It happened so fast and so stealthily, that we didn't realize anything was wrong until the chickens made such a commotion and 3 of them were so terrified that they flew out of the run and into the yard, seeking safety amongst the big dogs. We found two bunches of feathers just off into our wood line and came up 4 chickens short on the evening count.
The following morning, as we were securing the run with netting above to keep the remaining chickens in--and potential hawks out, and with chicken wire to shore up every nook and cranny of the run, we lost another chicken, who was grazing in the paddock, evidenced by another small pile of under feathers.
We then saw a pair of foxes, just 50 feet from the coop, off in the woods. No doubt coming back for more.
I grabbed a giant stick and went running towards them, yelling loudly. It seemed like a good plan at the time. I was establishing boundaries. Your side of the woods. My side of the woods.

I'm not mad at the foxes. They were doing what nature intended. Providing food for their young and showing them how to feed themselves. We have seen the babies too. They have come back several times to try their luck again. Our fence building has worked, and, for now, the flock is safe.

I am, however, upset that I didn't plan accordingly. My boundaries were too amorphous and trusting. I would never eat a chicken, so nothing else will either. I needed a reality check; a shoring up on my rose colored idea of bucolic farm life.
So shore up we did.

Two life lessons learned this week.
Farms are about life and growing things. Farms are also about death and loss.

In Conclusion:
Farms need fences. People need boundaries.
Boundaries make for physical, mental and emotional balance and well being.
Fences make good neighbors.

Join me this week while we explore boundaries, containment, and the freedom they afford us.

with so much love,
Kari