I had a horrible experience with one of my neighbors. I did so much to make the situation better, but now she doesn’t speak to me or go in her back yard. We are packed in tight in Portland Oregon but chickens are legal here and I am following the rules to a T.
But I did not start out that way. I got three chickens on impulse at the beginning of the pandemic and built a coop too close to her house. The chickens I picked were breeds that were particularly loud, especially the Rhode Island Red. I hoped for the best until she sent a barrage of angry text messages after about four months of living next to them. I was shocked and upset but I pulled myself together and found a good home, a farm in the suburbs, for my hens. The very next day.
Then I set about dismantling the coop and rebuilding it 34 feet from my neighbor. This took nine months and involved me transplanting a large shrub. I never complained to her, in fact, I made a vow to never communicate with her again. I think she’s irrational and mentally ill and has an entitled attitude.
She freaked out when she saw the new coop and confronted me in person in her passive aggressive way but I just said softly, chickens are legal in Portland and the coop is now 34 feet from your house. Then she sent another barrage of texts saying I should have some courtesy for her and that she has lime disease and thyroid disease and insomnia and needs to be able to sleep at random times throughout the day and so she needs quiet.
I did extensive research on the quietest hens that are also comfortable with confinement. I got bantam Cochins and I adore them and interact with them every day. They raise a ruckus when they lay eggs but I’ve talked to all my other neighbors and they say they they are not bothered at all.
It’s not exactly like the problem is solved perfectly, because we don’t speak to each other (I blocked her number so she can’t text me), but I am confident that I did the best I could. I’m an anxious people-pleaser. This has been a good experience to learn to stand up for myself. And take responsibility for my mistakes.
I admit though, I say a prayer at least once a week that she will move one day. It’s like having a gloomy witch hovering over my little urban pet-farm. Sometimes I hear her slam her window shut when the hens are singing their egg song. Oh well.