Low-cost stockproof fencing is an art that's hard to master

More and more farms are fenced to a high standard nowadays, and all fields are pretty much considered stockproof.

But some of us can remember back to a very different era, when the mindset was creating a stock-safe barrier for as little cost as possible.

When I first left school, the suggestion of strengthening a weak hedge by hammering in a row of brand-new posts and nailing wire to it would have been met with undisguised horror by my uncle – “You want to do what?!” – would have been a watered-down version of the response.

I vividly recall spending winter afternoons ‘brairding’ sheep fields with only hedge trimmings. The process was as follows: my father ran along the hedge with the finger bar hedge cutter (I think it was a Teagle) attached to a grey Ferguson 35, and two of us walked behind with pitch forks. We gathered the thorns and stuffed them into any holes that ewes or lambs might venture through. This was short-term fencing in the extreme.

If we were forced to push the boat out, then the local contractor was summoned to bring the ancient Roadless and circular saw, with the gappy hedge faced back to within an inch of its life. Sheep wire was then attached directly to the thorn hedge, and everyone congratulated each other on a fantastic job well done.

If there were no cattle in the vicinity, then the addition of a strand of barbed wire along the top was deemed to be an unnecessary expense.

Aged 16, it was best not to offer a contrary opinion regarding inputs, since ‘them wee fellas know naithin’. And of course, suggesting a double fence to help it thicken at the bottom and benefit wildlife was decades too soon for men brought up during the hardships of post-war years. It was just a completely different way of thinking.

Phone call

However, I was reminded of that bygone era last week, following a phone call from a neighbour to say he had put a Mule ewe and her lamb back into my field from the roadside.

This was on a piece of rented land and in truth that run of hedge had been on my ‘to do’ list since last autumn.

I headed off the next afternoon, equipped with sheep wire and all necessary additional tools. This hedge has been repaired a few times, without ever needing the full post and wire refurbishment.

Therefore, the original netting wire is clearly visible which has rusted almost completely and been covered with another layer of wire from sometime in the early eighties? Since then, a few more modern patches have been applied, probably by me.

It is important to point out that this hedge becomes more difficult to work at as the summer progresses, due to a dense barrier of nettles.

Some of it is strong enough to warrant hammering in a staple or two, but for the most part it’s back to the good old days of using miles of baler twine.

After an hour of this laboursome graft, I emerged from the undergrowth absolutely exhausted.

Attaching new wire to new posts is easy compared with crawling in below an overhanging thorn hedge and trying to tie up sheep wire without getting stung, and while keeping one knee off the ground to prevent getting pierced by pieces of thorn.

It must have looked like some sort of weird yoga position – like a halfway cross between gymnastics and ballet (without the elegance).

Proud

Believe it or not, when I had fixed the half dozen weak places along this quiet road, I surveyed my work with a huge degree of satisfaction. I can think of a few long-deceased relatives of mine who would have been proud of my cost-effective methods.

I was going to say the back of my pickup contained the very same materials that would have been carried for the same job forty years ago, but some things have changed for the better.

Back then, a billhook and slasher were the tools of choice to trim awkward pieces of thorn before attaching wire, but these have been superseded.

I now carry a small cordless chainsaw, as well as a set of cordless pruners. Both are useful, but I would particularly recommend the pruners.

They’ll easily cut anything up to about half an inch, the battery seems to last forever, and don’t cost a fortune. I bought Susan a set for Christmas, but they have resided under the seat of the pickup ever since. In moments of rare generosity, I allow her to borrow them.