On Living Fences

“Dear Sir — Your favour of the 15th, with the seed of the honey locust came safe to hand, and claims my particular thanks. I have but one doubt of its forming the best hedge in the world; and that is, whether it can be sufficiently dwarfed. If this cannot be effected, the other purpose mentioned in your letter, and a valuable one too, of subserving stock, is alone sufficient to induce the cultivation of the tree.”

• From George Washington to Richard Henry Lee, 20 FEB 1787

One of my ongoing projects over the last two years has been the construction of a hedgerow, otherwise known as a living fence. Man has for thousands of years dealt with incursions of one sort or another, from warring tribes to animal predators. Get your defenses wrong and you’re as good as mincemeat. Still, I cannot imagine any of them posing a greater threat to cultivators of the Mid-Atlantic and Upper South than filthy Anglophiles and the white-tailed deer. Since I didn’t see myself worrying about the former anytime soon (what a shame, seriously), I chose to focus a tad more on the latter. But I strived to do so with a conservationist mindset.

See, as a child growing up in Central Virginia, I recollect marveling at the beauty of spotted fawns in our front pasture every year. We had ten partially wooded acres in Horse Country – or God’s Country, take your pick. My parents were animal lovers and my mother would put out a salt lick for the deer so she could sit on the porch swing and watch them. Her frustration would quickly pass when they’d dine on her tulips, which to this day I still can’t fathom. We were all so connected – intertwined – with nature back then. It may have been my mother’s Cherokee blood…I really don’t know. But even my father’s sister used to say that the Lord gave us animals to teach us about agape and mortality, two seemingly different yet critical components of the human psyche.

Continuing this brief excursion down Memory Lane, one significant emotional event (SEE) occurred when a young buck decided to join the family for a season. He would hop over our chain link fence to play with us and our cocker spaniel, Lady. The Empire Strikes Back was a blockbuster back then, so naturally I donned my Hoth snow gear and wielded my American made, glow-in-the-dark light saber, thinking I’d eventually be able to ride the four-legged tauntaun in my back yard. But these are increasingly foggy memories from an era long since past, when both children and the nation were far more innocent.

While keeping the above in mind for a bit, fast-forward a decade or three. We moved into our current house about six years ago and we knew prior to the purchase that it was one hell of a fixer upper with a lot of potential. “It had good bones”, as my wife put it. Yeeeeeah. As I mentioned in a previous article, the front few acres was at that time a partially wooded cedar glade. It wasn’t solely the house that needed a makeover. Even then I knew I wanted to do “something” with the front acreage, although I was thinking more along the lines of a barn or guest house.

After dealing with all of our family’s crises, it came time to get busy living again. I had decided to put in an orchard and gardens but I wanted to be firing on all cylinders before doing so. When I was ready to yell “TIMBER”, I learned awfully fast how expensive it is to hire arborists by the day. Suffice it to say I spaced out the contracts, which bought me the time I needed to grid out the entire field, block by block.

(Yet even in this pricey endeavor I made handy acquaintances with several arborists. To this day they drop off 15-20 yd.³ loads of fresh wood chips when they’re in my neck of the woods. Methinks I’ve sequestered more carbon in the last year alone than any enviro-whacko in his or her entire lifetime. But I digress.)

***

“And as that enclosure will contain fruit principally, which is subject to great depridations; I have thought that the best live fence for that, except the side marked above for Cedar, and I hesitate even there too, had better be of the Honey locust; the seed of which not to be put more than Six Inches apart; that when they get to any size they may be so close, stubborn, & formidable, as to prevent an escalade[;] indeed I know of nothing that will so effectually, & at so small an expence, preserve what is within the Inclosure, as this plant.”

• From George Washington to Anthony Whiting, 18 NOV 1792

A good engineer and caretaker of the land learns two lessons fairly quickly lest he suffer ignominious defeat: Humility and Perseverance. That is, one must be willing to take a step backward in order to take two steps forward. What is history, after all, if not a voluminous catalog of solutions from which to draw? Furthermore, when one doesn’t have exact solutions provided by prior experience, one must strive with all his mental might to continue on, to endure failure. Did not GEN Washington demonstrate both traits in this letter to William Pearce, dated 22 MAY 1796, years after his work began with hedges at Mount Vernon?

It is with this philosophy that I was able to overcome almost two full seasons’ worth of constant predation on our nascent orchard and gardens. I had tried every trick there was (soap, human hair, urine, pig’s blood, windmills), and none of them worked for any reasonable period of time. White-tailed deer are neophobic, but nature eventually “finds a way”. And then I had that Eureka moment, recalling the pictures I had taken during my last visit to Washington’s estate. They had miraculously “clicked” with my recollections of his diaries and letters.

So, after much research, I settled on a two-pronged approach to a permanent deer deterrent, just as GEN Washington had done: Hedges and farm dogs. The long-term (and ongoing) plan for the orchard is to enclose it within a living fence along three sides. The western side would serve as a combination windbreak and privacy hedge to shield the lowest point from the occasional stormy winds and country feeder road. The northern expanse was of little concern in the short to medium term; our neighbors had livestock guardian dogs and the clearing itself was a serious risk for reasonably intelligent wildlife. The entire southern perimeter was adjacent to a large, forested tract with heavy browse pressure.

As with all things in middle Tennessee, nothing goes precisely by the book. Or in this case, a 1942 English hedging documentary and a turn of the century book entitled Hedges, Windbreak Shelters, and Live Fences (Powell, 1900). Powell was keen on wire and wooden post fencing, as is clear in the first few sentences of Chapter I. But he also authored his fantastic non-fiction prior to the soil stripping of the Midwest and the eventual Dust Bowl of the 1930s. He did not foresee, as Washington did, the deforestation crisis of split rail fencing and its disastrous effects on agriculture – which was only magnified by the Industrial Revolution.  Even so, Powell provided a detailed how-to guide for those of us so inclined to use living fences.

With that being said, I couldn’t entirely rely on the above hedging documentary, either. I ascertained that the average depth to bedrock in our cedar glade would not allow for the typical plashing of hedges and digging of parallel ditches. Plus, I wanted multi-purpose hedges that weren’t limited to fencing deer out and keeping chickens in. Ideally, they’d attract pollinators; increase surface area for planting; rebuild the soil; serve as privacy fences; serve as windbreaks; and beatify the orchard itself. My expectations were pretty damn high, if I do say so myself.

As with everything else on my property, I settled on a modified, raised bed strategy. The heavy clay is rich in minerals but too shallow and drains poorly. I started with the western hedge first since it’s approximately 160’ from one end to the other, and only 120’ before the driveway entrance. That is, I focused on the area with maximal benefit (windbreak and privacy) and minimal length, so as to make my mistakes early and as painlessly as possible.

I settled on an aggregate width of about 8’ (including gentle sloping for water runoff), and a final height (post decomposition) of 2’. The bottom 12” was to be rich topsoil sourced wholesale and locally, in 16 yd.³ loads. The top 18” was to be wood chips, which would ultimately decompose to half that, whereupon it would be dressed as needed. (A quick note here, to demonstrate how unsustainable our culture is: Prior to building a subdivision, commercial zone, or anything of consequence, the developers strip all topsoil and sell it off in bulk. Ever wonder why the yard in new neighborhoods is garbage? This is why. It is highly erosive and destructive and is the antithesis of conservationism.)

The topsoil was easy to source because middle Tennessee is, unfortunately, one gigantic construction site where one farm after another disappears into the annals of history. I reached out to a local (read: non-Big Construction Outlet) mulch and soil store, whereupon they gave me the contact information for the gentleman who provides them with topsoil. However, the wood chips were significantly more challenging, even with my reclamation efforts. And then I came across ChipDrop, which is a site whose service is available in certain metro areas around the country. Its primary purpose is to match arborists with prospective gardeners and landscapers who are looking for bulk wood chips and/or logs.

The service is simple yet pretty ingenious. Arborists and tree services avoid the dumping costs at city waste centers, and gardeners can get a full load (15-20 yds.³, generally) of wood chips for their gardening needs. The service’s expenses are covered by a $20 per month subscription fee per tree service. If the end user (i.e. the gardener) wishes to expedite a chip drop, they can offer to “donate” up to $80 per load, which is then used to cover the arborist’s fee. I usually offer $40 per drop in addition to the steady, free loads I get from my contacts.

Consider. If I pay $0 – $40 for 20 yds.³ of mulch, I’m on the hook for a maximum of $2 per yard, or a little over $.07 per ft.³ (there are 27 ft.³ per yd.³). Conversely, I could always go to Big Construction Outlet and pick up 2 ft.³ bags of cypress mulch at $1.29 per ft.³ (excluding tax), load it myself, and walk it to where I need it. Hmmm. A guy like me looking for ungodly amounts of mulch is going to choose Door A every single time.

When all was said and done, I again used my piece of shit 6 ft.³, blue plastic wheelbarrow to build the 120’ western berm on one side of, and perpendicular to, the driveway. I can’t remember how long it took, but I moved 16 yds.³ of topsoil and approximately 45-55 yds.³ of mulch, assuming this calculator is reasonably accurate, and including the time I dressed up the arborists’ decomposed wood chips. It was also interspersed with several logs too large to be chipped. On the front side I planted Myrica pennsylvanica ‘Silver Sprite’ (Northern Bayberry) at 9’ spacing, purchased at Song Sparrow Farm and Nursery. Bayberry is dioecious, so I purchased the female, berry-producing plants at a 4:1 ratio to the males. My reasoning behind Northern Bayberry was that the berries can be used to make candles; it’s nearly evergreen in my USDA Zone; it’s wind-hardy; it colonizes; it will get up to 8’ in height; it’s incredibly deer-resistant; and it can grow in infertile, challenging soils.

While I’ve been extremely pleased with the bayberry establishment, I’ve not been as fortunate with the Cryptomeria japonica ‘Radicans’ planted on the apex of the berm. They’re also planted at 9’ spacing and alternate between the bayberries, with about 5’ between rows. Picture the diagram with Orange Pippin’s apple tree spacing for semi-dwarfs, but with two rows instead of three. They’re supposed to be easy to establish, but I’ve already replaced several of them. (As a matter of fact, I’m currently looking at two more dead ones as I write this.) My gut instinct is that they’re suffering from irrecoverable winter wind damage; perhaps I’ll actually tackle this problem as time permits.

I have yet to utilize the front side of the berm. Tentative plans are to populate it with sunny-loving blueberries once the mulch has had another season to marinate, but we shall see. One final and critical note: I know enough about water to understand that it is both Man’s best friend and worst enemy. Being at the lowest point on my property, the western berm needed to handle significant runoff. I used 4” dual wall ADS pipe, purchased in 10’ sticks at Keeling Company. The smooth interior mitigates clogs in your typical corrugated, single wall drain tile. I laid them every 20’ except at the lowest point, where I used one stick every 5’ for redundancy and overflow.

***

“The scarcity of Timber in the Neck for fences, & the distance it is to draw at other places, are evils I have long foreseen, and have endeavoured to guard against; but for reasons which I mentioned to you in one of my late letters it never has been accomplished—I hope, however, as I have, in as strong terms as I know how to use, impressed the necessity of raising live Hedges upon you, that I shall no longer have cause to complain of neglect on this score—Any thing, in the shape of a live hedge is desirable; and almost anything for partition fences (where there are no hogs) will suffice.”

• From George Washington to Anthony Whiting, 28 OCT 1792

Overall, I was quite pleased with the results of the western berm, but it was brutal work that I did not intend to repeat. The southern berm would be about 405’ of progressively uphill labor. The bad news was that even though I could now afford a tractor, I didn’t have the time necessary to operate it. Even a small permaculture orchard takes an extraordinary amount of work to design, build, and maintain. The good news was that I live near one of the hardest working retirees I know, a gentleman I shall herein refer to as Billy Gibbons. His son had procured a tractor and really didn’t use it that much, so he offered to build the berm (and other things) for me whenever I’d get new loads of wood chips.

As it currently stands, I’ve received enough loads to progress my other goals (to be discussed in a future article) as well as fully 250’ of the southern berm. I really don’t know how Billy did it. He managed to navigate some of the most inhospitable, rocky outcroppings to accomplish what I have today. If he is the type of guy the elites look down on, then those buffoons deserve everything that’s coming to them. In any event, the same 8’ wide by 2’ tall measurements are in play with this berm as well. I only needed to lay one 10’ stick of dual wall pipe at a low spot – again purchased at Keeling Company – but I used 6” this time, for unforeseen, once-in-a-millennium rainfall events. This time, however, I only used mulch for the entire depth. Every 16 yds.³ of topsoil cost me $525 and I wanted to see what I could do with nothing but wood chips. All said, Billy probably dumped a solid 200 yds.³ (again based on the mulch calculator above), including dress-up of decomposed sections.

Now for the fun part, at least for me. I planned on using a combination of Robinia pseudoacacia (black locust) and Gleditsia triacanthos (honey locust) as the living fence, planted using Powell’s recommendation of 2’ spacing for long-term, healthy survivability. I believe this is one critical area in which GEN Washington failed; he used 6” spacing which doesn’t provide for proper airflow or longevity. I purchased 250 honey locust seeds at TreeHelp.com and 100 black locust seedlings from Cold Stream Farm. I planted the above on the back side of the berm this very spring and thus far have had all but a handful of black locusts in varying stages of bud break. The honey locust seed has thus far presented mixed results, but it’s entirely due to operator error (me). I didn’t stumble onto New Mexico State University’s scarification study for honey locust seed until late in the game. For the remaining 20 or so seeds I scarified using my wife’s emery board, all but a few sprouted.

Simply put, I chose honey locust to be the filler trees where any black locusts failed. I believe it is a sound choice for the entirety of a living fence and Washington and Powell’s recommendations were not lost on me. However, black locust offers, among other things, valuable potential as a pollinator for the orchard. Its uses are myriad and it’s not as painful to manipulate as honey locust. Please refer to Chapter I, pp. 11-12 of Hedges for my subsequent laying protocol in the fall.

With respect to the front side of the berm, the following is what I’ve planted thus far:

• Blackberry (6’ spacing)
  • 7 (provided by Billy’s wife)
  • 2 Triple Crown (purchased at Berries Unlimited)
  • 2 Prime Ark Traveler (see above)
  • 1 Kiowa (see above)
  • 1 Snowbank (see above)
• Elderberry (8’ spacing)
  • 1 York American (purchased at One Green World)
  • 1 Johns American (see above)
• Honeyberry (8’ spacing)
  • 1 Blue Bird (purchased at One Green World)
  • 1 Berry Blue (see above)
• Arctic Kiwi (Note: Another dioecious specimen!) (8’ spacing)
  • 1 Red Beauty (purchased at One Green World)
  • 1 Emerald (see above)
  • 1 Pasha Male (see above)
  • 1 September Sun (see above)
  • 1 variety that my wife bought at Lowe’s, so I really don’t recall what it is
• Raspberry (6’ spacing)
  • 1 Joan J (purchased at Double A Vineyards)
  • 1 Polana (see above)
  • 2 Anne Yellow (purchased at Indiana Berry & Plant Co.)
  • 1 Nova (see above)
  • 1 Prelude (see above)

The length of this article got away from me, but I hope it is detailed enough to be useful. I would like to end on a couple of thought experiments:

1. Why does Man continue to denude the landscape and dump the remains in landfills, instead of using it to rebuild soil on future farmland?
2. Why does Man refuse to consult the past for guidance in the present and future?
3. Why does Man work so hard to fail, instead of mimicking nature wherever possible?

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