My dad is a master fencer. No, not the sword and saber kind. Actual fences. He puts them up all the time. Around the property line, around the garden, around this half of the property to be a different pasture from the other pasture. Even if he never does put the horses in that one pasture, he still fences it. Personally, I always thought the fencing was a little overdone. But, last night, coons visited MY GARDEN again.
I didn’t want a fence, but what can you do? Husband and I dutifully erected a chicken wire fence. We got nothin’ on Dad. It’s too short. It needs to be fixed to the ground in several places or even inserted into the ground. But that would make it shorter. Look, it’s a start. I pointed out to husband that since the garden was now all fenced in, we could get chickens. The chickens wouldn’t be able to eat my greens and beans. Husband must have been secretly amused because the look on his face was definitely not amusement. He just didn’t want me to know how amused and thrilled he was with the idea. I *know* Scamper wants chickens. Junior is game for anything, but he doesn’t understand why we put the fence up. I suspect he will learn to jump it very shortly. We’ll see. If not, I’ll have to let him in there when I’m in there or he’ll get mad. He loves to pester me when I’m gardening. His favorite thing is to see what I’m digging by standing right in front of me with his tail in my face. That way I can’t see, and he can carefully inspect the work at his leisure (or until the human picks him up and moves him.)
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