For the first few weeks we lived on the farm, we saw occasional glimpses of a red fox. She would watch me for a few seconds as Vega and I took our morning walk around the perimeter of the pastures, and once, John saw her running back to her den with two little bouncing mounds following behind her.  Her den was right behind our big barn, and we knew this because of the various pieces of meals that were scattered around a hole in the ground … a bird’s wing, a rabbit skull, a deer’s leg.  We loved saying good morning to her, but we did wonder how we were going to keep our chickens safe.

About two weeks ago, we didn’t see any more evidence of her or her babies, but we did see a groundhog, a rather large groundhog, peeking out from the inside of the medium-sized barn doors.  A few mornings later, we saw her two babies rooting around the disturbed ground outside the chicken coop.  I love seeing babies in the spring and early summer, but we did wonder how we were going to keep our garden safe. 

And there, I realized, was the web of life that I’ve been reading about in theory, talking about in the abstract, and wishing for as a way of life since I can remember. Second graders learn that the sun feeds the plants in the garden, the plants feed the groundhogs, and the groundhogs feed the foxes.  What we rarely teach is that people are in that web, too. We could protect our garden by killing the groundhog, preserve our chickens by killing the fox, but not only is that not balance, it’s not honoring our place within the web.  As a sanctuary, we honor all life, and we will always strive for balance on our farm. So we’ll be digging a large trench to fill with concrete and chicken wire around the chicken yard, and we’ll be adopting a few barn cats in the next few weeks!