For about a month now, our most recently acquired spotted saddle horse, Millie, has been disregarding fence boundaries with abandon. I don’t recall when exactly this became a daily affair; these days Millie simply refuses to be contained. If she’s been left pastured with Stella, as usual, one can expect to find her on the lawn, in the orchard, or standing by the gate at any time of day. We have worked out a system for her return, whereby I “lead” her back to the flimsiest portion of the fence—either with a strand of baling twine looped behind her ears, or simply with a hand below her jaw for guidance. When we reach the fence, I dislodge the top wire from its perch atop the highest insulator, pull all the lines down with my foot, and stand (actually wobble) atop them while she crosses into the pasture.
Earlier this week I watched her migrate through the fence. She begins by pressing up alongside an assemblage of three loosely-strung high tensile lines. After easing her head beneath the highest strand, she begins grazing beyond her pasture until—whoops!—one leg at a time casually lifts itself over the intervening wires. Within a couple of minutes, without seeming to move much at all, Millie stands outside the pasture entirely grazing where she pleases.
For a time she kept the grasses well trimmed in the orchard area, but when she took an interest in grape leaves I decided it was time to ban her from there. Now she is “limited” to maybe fifteen acres, although she tends to stay in the front or up near the horses; she avoids roaming the woods by herself. When I feel the need to keep her penned, putting her in with Lucy and Janet (whose fencing is taught and effective); however, I rather like seeing her out front, roaming at will.
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