Will They Survive The Winter?

We recently re-watched one of my favorite movies, Gladiator.  There are numerous quotes in that movie that are inspiring and motivational.  In the beginning scene of the movie, Maximus is victorious in battle and is having a sober discussion with the emperor regarding the emperor's health, his legacy, and the future of Rome.  Here is an excerpt from that talk:

Maximus: They fought for you and for Rome.

Marcus Aurelius: And what is Rome, Maximus?

Maximus: I’ve seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark, Rome is the light.

Marcus Aurelius: Yet you have never been there. You have not seen what it has become. I am dying, Maximus. When a man sees his end… he wants to know there was some purpose to his life. How will the world speak my name in years to come? Will I be known as the philosopher? The warrior? The tyrant…? Or will I be the emperor who gave Rome back her true self? There was once a dream that was Rome. You could only whisper it. Anything more than a whisper and it would vanish… it was so fragile. And I fear that it will not survive the winter.

Dramatic?  Yes.  Sometimes in our pasture, it can be brutal and cruel and dark, too.  There can be epic battles and bloodshed that can leave bodies strewn across the landscape in macabre fashion.  I'm getting ahead of myself.

I came in from work and Tricia said, "It was a bad day on the farm."  "Oh? I said, "tell me about it."  She explained a harrowing melee that took place out back in the pasture that morning.  I walked out over the "coliseum" where the murderous rampage took place.  

Feathers filled the ground as the wind gently blew them.

A ghoulish massacre had taken place!  It wasn't just feathers.  Why, body parts and other detritus littered our once happy, pastoral land.  

Oh, woe is me!  Whoever did this - a pox on your house!  The deceased that fell on that rueful day include a rooster and three laying hens.  The slain were gathered and placed ceremoniously in the compost pile in the garden where they were mourned and then covered with wood chips.

Who did this and what shall be done?  We thought Ricky Raccoon had been dealt with.  Tricia explained the battle.  A dog with no collar had come underneath the perimeter fence and onto the property.  Bloodlust led the canine to commit wanton murder upon our flock of feckless fowl.  Tricia let Belle loose to chase the dog off of the property, but not before four fowl fell in foul fashion.  

But how did this happen?  Border security had let us down.  The strong fence that had once protected us had fallen into disrepair.  Fences DO work!  But our fence over time had rusted out at the bottom, leaving us vulnerable and unprotected.  The thick wire the anchors the fence rusted, allowing a foreign invader to shimmy right underneath.  Innocent lives were lost.  The rightful inhabitants of the land must be protected or we are poor stewards and not worthy of our position.  

But we learn and move forward.  We repair the breaches.  To work we go.  The rest of the fence is still good.  It's just the bottom wire.  I'll try to replace the bottom wire, so to speak, by replacing it with some barbed wire.  I wrapped the wire around the corner post and stapled it.  Then I got my come-along and a chain and pulled the barbed wire tighter than a Victorian corset.

Then I used wire to wrap the barbed wire into the bottom of the existing hog-wire fence.  That lifted the bottom of the fence off the ground a little, exposing an inch or two of space between the ground and the bottom of the fence, so I'll come back and stake it down between t-posts.  That patch job should keep marauding murderous hordes off the farm.

"Are you not entertained?" Maximus might say.  Hopefully with the integrity of the fence restored, perhaps the remaining twenty-something odd hens might survive the winter.  The jury is still out on the republic.