Hedging and Identity at the Edge
“Standing in field looking at hedge. Don't know where to start. A blurred boundary that looks complete enough. From where I stand I can not make out which will be laid and which will be extracted. The field is simple. It is easy to see and maneuver oneself. I have time to reflect and follow the outline and can turn inwards to my breathing. Away from the boundary, I can observe in detachment. It’s almost abstract. Only once in the hedge, with the hedge, does the material begin to make sense. Take out the thorns. Take out the ivy. Take out anything that would choke the health of the native species. Thin out the ground in front of the hedge where it has sprawled into the field. Observing which species are present informs a view of how the hedge might form. Tall hazel leaves little need for resourcefulness, yet asks me to be creative with it’s presence. Blackthorn makes its stubborn demands known by snapping just where one doesn’t want it. Blackthorn mocks my desires for immediacy. When Blackthorn breaks, she is the part of me that has not listened enough and has been too hasty in action. Blackthorn lays well and is a great boundary. Though brittle, it sprawls and offers small creatures protection in the form of poisonous inch long thorns.”
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The field offers no answers about what lies within the hedge, only the assurance of temporary respite from its complexity. To understand the hedge, one must step into it, engage with it, and confront the entanglements it holds.
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Hedging has a few meanings that share some foundations. To many agents of the land, hedges are means of boundary in which to contain livestock and prevent said livestock from moving to another’s pasture. It is a means of exercising control over food/resource supply first by determining livestock on land in a given boundary as owned by x (the rights to these meat/milk/wool tubes are mine) and second in preventing said livestock from moving to land beyond the boundary (these rights are exercised within the parameters of the hedge). In defining the edge of the field, the hedge simultaneously shapes what is within and what is without.
A hedge is also a term used in the risk management sphere to describe a process of taking onboard the opposing direction in a trade to reduce net equity risk. A hedge is a way to remain complicit in both sides of an event while benefiting from the stability the hedge enables. The simplest example of a hedge is with an insurance contract on house damage. You pay a premium in exchange for the delivery of insurance in the event a contract-covered hazard decreases the value of your home.
Insurance differs technically from hedging in that insurance typically involves paying someone else to bear risk, while hedging involves making an investment that offsets risk, but let’s leave semantics for the purpose of this spiel.
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Both forms of hedging are acts of negotiating control over time. They attempt to balance the unpredictable forces of the future with the stability of the present. Whether in land management or financial markets, hedging is a way of maintaining equilibrium.
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Beyond these utilitarian uses of hedge, a hedge is also a potential haven for biodiversity and native species to flourish. In stock proofing a hedge, one also enables sufficient cover for nature to establish herself and do what she does best: diversify. Under cover of a proper Devonshire hedge, dormice can evade the watchful eyes of predators, lichens can continue to grow, soil structure remains moist and does not blow away as easily during heat spells.
So the hedge, although a man made conception, has rootings in a co-existent relationship between our need to preserve ourselves and preserve the world we’re a part of. Should our bets on one fail, the other is likely to suffer too.
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The hedge then also serves as a metaphor for identity at the edge; the thresholds we navigate in our personal and professional lives, the boundaries we draw to protect ourselves while remaining open to growth and connection. Like Blackthorn’s brittle resistance or hazel’s abundance, the elements within the hedge reflect the parts of ourselves that require attention and care. What to flex and where to yield. Now there’s an enquiry.​
Hedging, whether in agriculture, finance, or personal development, is an act of balancing control and uncertainty. It acknowledges the inevitability of risk while providing a framework for navigating it. By tending the hedge, removing what chokes, nurturing what sustains, we may create boundaries that are not just functional but alive, capable of holding space for both security and transformation.
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Standing at the edge of the field, the hedge offers more than a boundary. It is a mirror of our relationship with control, risk, and coexistence. In tending the hedge, we may engage with ambiguity, embracing its thorns and its gifts. Whether as a physical marker, a habitat for biodiversity, or a metaphor for navigating uncertainty, the hedge reminds us of the value in cultivating boundaries that both protect and connect. It is at the edge, with the hedge, that identity takes root and grows.
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