Where the Sidewalk Ends

The neighbors two doors down have a rooster. I can hear him. I've never met them but one has to believe they must be good people if they have a rooster. I have a feeling I'll have to wander over sometime soon and introduce myself.

(This is actually a photo of one of the roosters at Conner Prairie. I've not taken to wandering over to the neighbors barn to take pictures of their chickens... yet.)

They are allowed to have a rooster because, like us, their land is zoned agriculture. Even though we are somewhat surrounded by urban sprawl, our properties are grandfathered in and have never been annexed. You see, we are part of what they call the "gentleman farmer" historic district. A stretch of victorian homes built in the 1880's and 1890's for the more successful businessman or retiring farmer. A good portion of the homes here still have the acreage they started with. One I know of even has roughly twenty acres, yet from the street you would never know it as historic downtown is within walking distance. At the time this house was built though,  it was considered to be in the country. In fact, here is a 1925 photograph clearly showing the farm fencing and remarkably few trees. 

 

 

There was a barn here not long ago.  This was a painting of the back of the barn. According to the neighbors the small lean-to section on the left was a chicken coop. The lawyer tore it down. I doubt he liked chickens much. If I had to guess I'd say the feeling was mutual.