We moved to the country for the peace and quiet. We wanted to get up close to nature. To spend more time outside and grow more of our own food. What we didn’t expect was how much we would enjoy the company.
When my partner and I finally made the move—leaving the city behind, trading Vancouver traffic for gravel roads and tree lines—we thought we were ready. At least, that’s what we told each other.
We had, after all, done our research. We’d explored the area and put our plans to paper. We understood how moving that far away from the usual conveniences would come with a learning curve. There’s only so much you can learn until you’re actually living it.
Winters. Those would be different. Distances. Those were real. One of the most difficult changes—our favorite coffee shop would no longer be right around the corner. A sacrifice we thought we could make as long as we had a good espresso maker.
What we didn’t account for was that we weren’t moving somewhere empty. In fact, we were moving into a well-established and very much occupied neighbourhood. We just hadn’t met the neighbours. Yet.
That all changed once we installed our new home security system.
Of course, we set up the system for the reasons most people do—mostly peace of mind. We were further from help than we’d ever been. Family, like coffee, wasn’t as close by. Streetlights didn’t illuminate the driveway or, for that matter, the road in. The nights were magically dark. So many stars! It took some getting used to, and we wanted to know if something was off. Did we leave the back door open? Was something moving around outside that shouldn’t be?
We thought a home security system would improve our awareness. And boy did it!
The First Alert
The first alert came around 2 a.m. Motion near the back of the house. The back light turned on. I nudged my partner. Both of us instantly awake, we headed toward the back of the house, phones in hand, not knowing what to expect. A branch? The wind?
Instead, we met Ralph.
He was large, unhurried, and deeply unimpressed with the motion sensor light that had turned on above him. He strolled through the area with the kind of confidence suggesting he’s been coming here long before we moved in. (He probably had been.)
I should probably clarify: Ralph is a raccoon. And as it turns out, he’s the least of the surprises our little corner of BC had in store for us.
Over the next few weeks, we started getting incredible footage on our security camera. From a black bear ambling through the yard one Tuesday evening to a family of black-tailed deer grazing near the edge of the tree line right around sunrise on a Saturday. We even saw a red fox dart through the yard one evening, pausing just long enough to look directly into the camera. We had to wonder, was that deliberate? Does she know we’re planning on building a chicken coop?
Yes, we moved to the country expecting nature. We just hadn’t realized it would literally be our backyard. Even after visiting the area several times, we hadn’t realized there was so much wildlife in the area. (Probably because we don’t often share the same hours.)
Highlight Reels Over Coffee
The camera opened a window into an adventure that has been happening all along. Overnight footage became a bit of a highlight reel to enjoy over our morning coffee. Who’s visited? A bald eagle landing in the tall Douglas fir at the back of the property? A family of Steller’s jays staging what looked to be a hostile takeover of the bird feeder? A new friend we haven’t seen before?
And then there was Ralph. Always Ralph. He was not a one-timer or even merely an occasional visitor. He’s a regular. He has a schedule. He knows where the compost is. He knows where the garden is. He has opinions on our recycling system, which he has clearly communicated.
In the beginning, we thought the security system would help us deal with him. We’d be able to set up an alert, catch him in the act, and figure out a solution. Ha! Instead, Ralph made us realize we’re the ones who would have to adapt to his neighbourhood.
The compost bin got a latch. And then a stronger latch. The garden got a fence. Which was then reinforced. Recycling now lives in the garage.
Ralph has patiently been helping us reorganize our outdoor life. And we’ve quietly followed along, understanding who the real boss around here is. Do we respect him or resent him? Depends on the day—but it’s usually both.
As for the fox—whom we now call Ms. Fantastic—she’s been back several times. She always comes by at dusk, looking like she’s working out her route. She’s absolutely gorgeous (thus, the name) with his fluffy russet coat and upright ears. We could watch her (or him—we don’t actually know) for hours. But both Ralph and Ms. Fantastic have us rethinking how much we’ll need to reinforce our chicken coop to keep the ladies safe. The chickens will have to have a very, very secure enclosure.
Our Shared Security
One thing most people don’t tell you when you move to the country is that you’re not just moving to a new place. You’re becoming part of an existing world. One with its own rhythms, residents, and routines that have nothing to do with you and everything to do with the land you’re now sharing.
We installed our security system for some peace of mind. We wanted to know if a smoke detector went off when we were away. Or if we left a door to the garage open after bringing in groceries. Or if something was moving around outside. All practical reasons.
We didn’t expect that it would help us feel more connected to nature and our new neighbours.
Before we set up the cameras and sensors, the property was ours on paper. After we started our new morning routine, the land started to feel like ours in a different way. We started to learn the patterns. Who passed through and when. And who was a new addition. We got to know our neighbours—just not the ones we expected.
Our security system has brought us a new kind of awareness. A familiarity with the area. Now, we look back at that first alert that made our hearts jump. Today, if we hear that 2 a.m. alert, we know exactly who it is.
And we have plans to upgrade the compost bin. Again. It could use another level of security.
Just in case.
We do still get alerts that matter. The ones that tell us a door has been left open. Or that something triggered a sensor at an unexpected hour. We still pay attention and lock everything up before heading to bed. And we feel safer knowing our system is monitoring potential gas or water leaks. That all works exactly as it should. The practical and serious protection is all there.
If you’re considering a similar move, or you’ve already made it and are figuring out what rural living means in practice, a home security system might be the most unexpected gift you give yourself.
It delivers safety and peace of mind, yes, but the real gift, in our opinion, is the awareness. The connection. The strange and genuine pleasure of knowing what’s going out outside—even (or especially) at 2 a.m.
You can learn more about home monitoring options—from environmental monitoring to full property coverage—at home-alarms.ca. Because knowing what’s going on around your home isn’t just about keeping threats out. Sometimes it’s letting the right things in. Even if one of them is a rascally raccoon with absolutely no respect for your recycling system or compost bin configuration.