Etch some sigils in it, shove some candles on top, baby, you got a Hand of Glory burnin'!
There's no chain link fence in the area and for good reason! Some antedeluvian buggers end up moving in and using them as traps like a spider's web. Then you end up with a huge mess of "leftovers" to clean up every time there's a new moon. And if you get lazy and don't clean it up you get all kinds of fustelarian loiter-sacks and grumbletonians moving in. Then every night is like Night of the Living Dead combined with an old BBC documentary on the mating habits of screaming lemurs. Then there's the smell: It's a bit like almonds smothered in parmesan cheese, dipped in old socks vomited by a dog at the end of your bed.
No thank you!