Should I hang it on a wall or rest it on a mantle? That’s what I’ve been pondering lately. Either way would be okay.   

Alger Hill, my maternal grandfather, enjoyed dealing in livestock. He was still buying and selling a few cattle and hogs during my early childhood, but fencing put up decades earlier was no longer needed. It’s gradually assimilated into the landscape for over 70 years.   

Last spring I began pulling up fences in the woods. A few sections are supported by remnants of posts or secured by trees which have swallowed strands of wire. In most places the fence lies flat on the ground and is hidden under leaves.

I’ve stumbled over camouflaged metal a few times and found it with a chainsaw too. Nothing got broken on me or the saw, but I knew the fence needed to be taken up. It will only bring a pittance as scrap iron but hopefully will find reward through new purpose.

There’s probably a more efficient way to pull up fencing, but I’m not on the clock, just getting paid in satisfaction. It’s good exercise and Harriet the blue heeler enjoys having company.

My first efforts were minimally successful. Binding roots grown through flattened wire were not impressed by hand tools nor 70-year-old muscles. The roots stopped laughing when I revved up the engine of the little John Deere.

Using a fork on the front-end loader worked fairly well, except some roots were stronger than the hydraulics. And twice the tractor tilted to one side enough I hastily conceded the match. That’s when I switched methods, looping a chain around the fence and pulling.

That was effective for freeing root-bound wire, but wouldn’t break it loose from trees which had absorbed it. So I began cutting strands as close to the trunks as possible. When a plan isn’t working, it’s best to adopt a new strategy.

Most of the fallen trees and limbs which leveled the fence are long gone with no traces left behind. Others have been easy to move. A few, however, are heavy enough to require a push with the tractor or cuts with the chainsaw.

Several things came to mind during this recent undertaking, such as the cost of procrastination. Years ago, when the fence was no longer needed, removal would have been easily accomplished. Wire could have been tightly rolled and reused to keep cattle in somewhere else. Taking it up now is a cumbersome process and the fence is unfit for even tomato cages.

Mending fences is another point I’ve been pondering. Daddy preferred row cropping over  livestock, but had a small herd of cattle when I was a kid. The antiquated fence around our pasture was so fragile our cows were on the honor system.

I remember helping Miller Lawson as he mended broken barbwire one day. He used a hand puller and made sure it was taut before I hammered staples into the posts. We saw an earthworm crawling on top of the ground, which Miller said meant rain was coming. Instinct is beyond my understanding. I’m just thankful to know the one who created it.           

King Solomon mused, “There’s a time and season for everything.” I guess that applies to fences. There are times for building and mending, and times for taking them down. Whatever season comes, it’s best to address needs promptly. 

 On this recent undertaking, though, it didn’t really matter that I waited so long to start. Harriet is having a splendid time and the rescued metal is destined for new adventures, perhaps for a higher calling. Purification by fire releases untold potential.

An unexpected bonus of delay came through finding a remnant of a post with subtle charm. It was hand-cut, not store bought, with rusted strands of wire still attached. Time has carved away the softer wood and left a solid core, artistry that offers a lesson. Outer layers are just window dressing for what’s inside.   

 Procrastination has led to some extra work, but in this case I don’t really mind. Pulling up fences is not the mundane chore I expected. The slow-paced task has given me a lot to think about, reminding me of lessons from the past and providing some for the future. 

Perhaps that will explain, should someone later wonder, why an old fence post is on display. It will look quite at home, I think, on the wall above the mantle.