Am I Wrong for Planting Prickly Bushes to Keep My Neighbour’s Kids Off My Property?

When your home office is under siege by bored neighbour kids and their parents refuse to intervene, how far is too far to protect your own space? That’s the dilemma I ran into when I turned to gardening—with thorns—as my last resort.

A few months after moving into a detached townhouse in the EU, I realised my new neighbours saw my driveway and side yard as an extension of their own home. They parked there, turned their cars on my property, stored random stuff, and let their young sons run and play all over my driveway and path that wraps around my house. Repeated requests to stop didn’t work, so I tried blocking access with large plants, a camera, and a no-trespassing sign—enough to keep the cars away, but not the kids.

From constant doorbell rings and window banging to being called a “little b\*_tch” for defending my own garden, I went from polite neighbour to the person who planted a wall of prickly berry bushes and called the cops when my boundary-stomping neighbours started harvesting my plants like it was their personal orchard.

I’m leasing the house for a year, with the option to extend or buy, so I’ve been trying to keep things reversible—no permanent fences or structures. The driveway is wide enough for two cars, and halfway down there’s a path around my house with about three metres of yard that’s clearly mine. At first, the problem was cars and clutter: the neighbours used my driveway for parking, turning around, storage, and letting their kids roam. When talking didn’t help, I added big plants, a camera, and a no-trespassing sign, which finally stopped the car issue but not the people problem. Then, during the “stay home” period, their two boys (around five and seven) started ringing my doorbell multiple times a day, wanting to play with my dog or just get my attention while I was working from home.

"I told him to keep the boys away from my property and door or I’d be planting prickly bushes to teach them to stay away from other people’s property."

Removing the doorbell battery stopped the ringing, but it escalated the behaviour: the boys ran around my front yard, along the path by my house, banged on my doors and windows, and even tried to open the gate to my backyard when they heard me out there. When I asked their parents for help, I was brushed off with a dismissive “boys will be boys” and told they weren’t going to do anything. I warned the kids that if they kept it up, they wouldn’t be allowed to play with my dog at all, and I told their dad point-blank to keep them off my property or I’d plant prickly bushes as a physical boundary. Since fencing wasn’t an option for a short-term rental, the idea of a living, removable barrier started to look like my only real solution.

"To me, them taking fruit from my garden is stealing, and I was ready to call the cops again if the bushes didn’t get the point across."

About a week later, I followed through and planted a “wall” of blackberries and raspberries along the two sides of my garden facing the driveway, carefully placing them about 30 cm from the edge so they wouldn’t hang over the boundary. Behind them, I planted strawberries and tomatoes, making it clear that anyone reaching that far into my garden wasn’t there by accident. For a couple of weeks things calmed down: the kids still wandered onto my driveway, but they seemed to stay out of the actual garden. Once berry season hit, though, I caught the boys picking and eating raspberries, marched them home, told their mother they were stealing, and warned I’d call the police next time. The real breaking point came when I returned home one afternoon to find the dad and both sons deep inside my garden, actively clearing my berry bushes. I stayed back, filmed them, called the cops, and watched as the officers told them they were trespassing and stealing—and that I had grounds to press charges, even though I ultimately decided not to this time.

🏠 The Aftermath

After the police visit, the tone on our little stretch of driveway changed dramatically, even if the neighbours’ attitude didn’t soften much.

The kids still exist next door, but they’re no longer roaming my front yard, circling my house, or treating my garden like a playground or snack bar. I kept my berry bushes, my side of the driveway is now clearly “mine,” and I’m in the process of adding an extra camera on my wall to cover the entire front garden and driveway.

The neighbours were formally warned for trespassing and theft, and I chose not to press charges—yet. The husband seemed genuinely shaken, while his wife reportedly spent the whole time yelling about the “little b\*_tch” next door. I’ve made it crystal clear that if I catch any of them on my property again, I’ll be calling the police and will seriously consider pressing charges next time.

Sometimes the only way to make people respect your boundaries is to involve people in uniforms and plant a few thorns along the line.

I’m not celebrating needing to get the authorities involved, but there’s a certain irony in being painted as the unreasonable neighbour simply for wanting to enjoy my rental home in peace. I’m relieved my space is finally being respected, but it’s hard not to feel wary knowing my neighbours still see me as the problem.

💭 Emotional Reflection

At its core, this wasn’t about bushes or berries—it was about basic respect and very different ideas of what “normal” neighbour behaviour looks like. I wanted a quiet home where my driveway, side path, and garden were treated as my space, while my neighbours seemed to believe shared walls meant shared property, and that “boys will be boys” excused constant intrusion.

Because I’m only leasing the house, I tried to handle things with the lightest touch possible at first: conversations, signs, plants, even sacrificing some peace by letting the boys play with my dog. When that failed and escalated into them banging on my windows and trying to get into my backyard, the emotional stakes got higher, and the prickly bushes became a symbol of my last attempt to draw a physical line before resorting to the law.

It’s easy to see how people might disagree about calling the police over kids and fruit, or about whether thorny plants are “petty” or practical. Some will prioritise the kids’ need to play, others will focus on the right to feel safe and undisturbed on your own property. The reality is messy: you can understand that the boys are bored and unsupervised, and still believe that repeated boundary-stomping has consequences.

Unsurprisingly, readers had strong opinions about how far I went to enforce my boundaries.

"You warned them multiple times, used non-permanent solutions, and only called the cops when an adult was literally in the middle of your garden picking your plants—this is exactly what setting boundaries looks like."

"The parents failed their kids here. They taught them that trespassing and taking things from someone else’s yard is fine, right up until the police had to explain that it’s actually theft."

"I get wanting peace, but threatening cops over children and using prickly plants feels intense—could cameras, written notices, or the landlord have handled this before it escalated to this point?"

Overall, commenters agreed the neighbours’ behaviour was out of line, but there was debate about when involving the police becomes appropriate and whether thorny plants are a reasonable deterrent or a petty escalation. The main themes were consent, safety, and how many chances someone should get before hard consequences kick in.

🌱 Final Thoughts

This story shows how quickly “small” annoyances—like extra cars on a driveway or kids knocking on the door—can snowball when boundaries aren’t respected. When polite requests are dismissed and property lines are treated like suggestions, people will eventually turn to more concrete solutions, whether that’s cameras, prickly hedges, or a call to the police.

Some will see the berry wall and the police report as overkill, others will see them as overdue responses to repeated trespassing—but somewhere in the middle sits the uncomfortable truth that good fences (or thorny bushes) really do make good neighbours when communication fails.

What do you think?
Would you have left, or stayed and kept trying to make it work? Share your thoughts below 👇