Notes from Maine - 2025/08/24
It’s a quiet, early morning at the camp. We stayed over last night. Our camp is extremely comfortable and well-appointed (thanks to Maine Cabin Masters), but it’s still not easy for me to stay the night here. I have horses to care for at home and at the moment I don’t even have a fenced-in pasture. After dinner last night, I drove back to my house, took care of the horses and put them to bed, and then returned to the camp where the evening had already wound down. Mom stayed in the camp for the first time. A bunch of friends came up with us as well, and a couple are still asleep. One put up a tent, and the other slept on a cot in the screened gazebo. All is quiet at the moment.
Back at home, the repair of the pasture fence should resume tomorrow. This is a long-overdue overhaul. The fence is about a quarter-mile long (400 meters) and used to be hemlock rails. After 23 years, a lot of it was rotting. The lumber yard told me to expect some repairs after 10-15 years, but it should last about 20. They were correct. After 23 years, I was replacing a lot of it, and the wood was too rough to take paint well. I had a lot of friends help me dig the holes the first time but it still took 48 days of nights and weekends for me to build the fence. I don’t remember how long it took to paint, but I’ve done it several times over the years. It got to the point where it both looked bad, and was difficult to maintain.
I hate the look of the pasture without a fence. It’s jarring and bothersome. I spent so many years scanning the integrity of the fence every time I went outside—always looking to make sure a tree hadn’t fallen and created a gap. The horses love their barn, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t wander. Over the years, I’ve only had one horse slip out. His name was Rocky, and he was good at figuring out latches. Once he got around the electric tape, he found his way to the gate next to the garage (which used to be a simple garden latch on the outside of the gate). I suspect he just reached over and worked the catch with his lips. When I got home, my neighbor (Butch) was sitting next to the maple tree, talking to Rocky. He explained that Rocky was across the road, chatting up the horses there, but Butch brought him home. Nothing was broken—just an open gate and a loose horse.
After that, I Rocky-proofed all the gates and we’ve had no subsequent incidents. Most of my horses have respected the electric fence. I had a wood, three-rail fence enclosing everything but used electric tape to cordon off different areas. As long as I run the charger a few times a month, they get the point. Earl (shire horse) will always test it though. He keeps me honest. His daughter (Lilly) doesn’t seem to care about the electric tape. She slips under and through it all the time. Rocky was like that. When he first came to the house he marched straight to the tape and then pushed through it, taking the shocks in stride.
I have to figure out how I’m going to electrify the new fence. I’m sure it will be sturdy, but I need to discourage rubbing. Nothing is safe when a 2,000 pound (900 kg) horse decides to rub on it. Until the fence came down, I didn’t realize how much daily attention I paid to it. The fence was my first big project after I bought the house. Every rail was cut to just the right angle. Every nail was pounded by hand. I’m hoping that my serenity will creep back once the new fence is complete. I need to be able to look out and know that the horses are safe. And they need space to roam and call their own.