Spring Friends
Ah, Spring! It’s the time of year that the birds are loudest and busiest. Their territorial claims and mating calls fill the air and, sometimes, – at least in the case of the swallows at our house – they get downright aggressive about where they intend to build their nests. We can count on being dive-bombed and threatened until the battle of the front porch eaves is finally settled. Détente does not always go in our favor.
Judging by the Letters to the Editor section of our paper and, also, to discussions among some of my acquaintances and friends, springtime territorial disputes are not confined to our feathered friends. As soon as the chopper/hacker/grinder trucks appear along our roadways, the controversy begins. The issues usually have to do with right-of-ways and property lines and whether or not a long-ago planting or fence construction makes a modern-day difference.
H.A. Espy In Front of House, c. 1895
I, personally, think that it’s a matter of how long ago. Shortly after my folks retired to my mother’s girlhood home here in Oysterville, the County announced its intention to widen Territory Road. I can’t remember now what the numbers of feet involved were – I think forty feet from the center line on either side. It could have been only thirty.
Either way, our house was well over the line. “You’d be taking out half of our dining room and kitchen,” my mother pointed out. She also gave them a bit of a history lesson as in our house was built in 1869 quite some time before Territory Road became part of the county road system and room for two wagons to pass was probably stretching the need. (The name ‘Territory’ probably gives a clue.) I don’t know if voices were raised during the discussion. Suffice it to say the county apparently decided it was best not to come between Dale Espy Little and her kitchen.
In most of the current-day disputes, though, it seems to me that the individual property owners simply don’t know where their property ends and the county’s begins. That’s a tricky proposition and all the shouting and arm-flapping in the world won’t necessarily help in winning the argument. Not like with the swallows. And even that is a sometimes proposition.
“Sometimes it is better to ask for forgiveness than permission.” That was my quote when we put in our picket fence in Ilwaco. Technically the city owns thirty feet from the center line on Elizabeth a neighbor told Dave. That’s in case they want to widen Elizabeth, our street to nowhere (with apologizes to the Anderson’s). Thirty feet from the center of Elizabeth is most of our front yard. When Dave asked me what I thought we ought to do. I allowed as how the city may think they own most of our yard, but I hadn’t seen them mowing it and that if they turn little old Elizabeth into a four lane road they can come take the fence out. That was 20 years ago. No one’s said boo about the fence nor the hedge we planted about 10 years ago which lines up with the fence. You can see that Miss Viola Saari’s parents followed the rules. Their hedge is legal and the house has no front yard.
What I complain about is the horrendous hack-job that machine makes of our foliage. It’s not meant to be a trimmer but our county is too poor it seems to purchase the correct kind of equipment. (I’ve spoken with several folks about this.) I’ve had many visiting urban friends remark about the roadside desecration after the typical “trim job.” What can one say? I usually try to make a joke of it, as in, “It’s the Ocean Park look—no teeth and cars parked in the yard…..”
I guess it’s what keeps our property prices down…
note: add an “n” after “spoke”….Thx