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“Girl, Just Keep Your Legs Together, And All Will Be Well!”
Good advice for any female, at any stage in her life, although the context may change as she ages.
As I recently entered my eighth decade on this earth (for those of you in Rio Linda, that means I just turned 70 a couple of months ago), the context these days relates mostly to my life on the farm, because that’s where I spend the very great majority of my time.
Every evening, I trot (well, maybe I don’t trot anymore; maybe I just “totter,” or “stagger,” or perhaps I “wander in a desultory fashion”) down to the barn with a small bucket of grain, to call the sheep in for the night. I didn’t used to do this, but a few years ago I had a couple of ugly coyote incidents which ended badly, and I decided I didn’t want to live through those again, so I try to keep the troops safe by bringing them back to base camp in the evening. Generally, they’re very up for this, and anxious to get to their nightly feast.
Sometimes, they’re too anxious.
After ending up flat on my bum night after night, with the bucket’s contents raining down around me while the buggers foraged around, through, and sometimes within me, I finally figured it out.
Don’t give them an inch!
The inch (or perhaps two or three) that I regularly gave them was that inch or more between my legs, as I entered the arena, moved normally and energetically around (because I am a fairly normal and energetic person), took the latch off the gate, approached the feeders, thrust the scoop into the grain bucket and then shook its contents into the feeder.
Almost every time, I ended up with a couple of (very friendly, let’s be clear) sheep’s heads between my thighs, staring lovingly up at me, hoping for an extra bit of treat. The 150 or 225 pounds they each carried forward while moving towards the feeder, still between my legs, usually upended me, with the especial thrill, from those with horns, of the impression of several dime-sized and painful bruises presenting themselves on my inner thighs a day or two later. I don’t forget. And thank goodness I never ended up in the hospital for any reason where I might have had to explain such awkward presences.
My eventual (and ultimately dispositive) conclusion was that I must have been doing something wrong, and that striding about openly and freely, “like an Egyptian,” (let’s hear it for the liberated peoples of several thousand years ago B.C.) might not have been such a good idea:
So I decided to restrain myself. To try “walking like a lady” as my English Granny, with all her repressive ideas, had instructed me to:
Head up and level, shoulders down, legs together.
Know what? It worked!
They get their treats, and I get to stay on my feet, with my dignity intact.
Who could have guessed?
I always say to my goats when I bring out the grain, “don’t look at me with those coin-slot-eyes.” They got out twice today. Gretchen almost died sticking her face through the electric netting (that wasn’t on) and wrapped it around her neck so tight I had to cut a big circle in the fence before she suffocated. That’s the new way out.
Keeping legs closed is important for guys too. Those are mighty big horns while I’m in a vulnerable position. To them there are only two type of people in this world, those with grain, and those without.
Been there. If it’s the electrified netting that you unwrap, and that has a plastic or fiberglass post built in every 8-12 feet or so, (usually the “squares” in the netting are of increasing size as you move up the height of the fence) I stretch it as tight as I can, and put those “step in” posts (I get them from the local Tractor Supply) every 4′ or so to help keep it taut. Goats are just difficult to fence, because they’re naturally inquisitive, many of them are jumpers, and they want to push boundaries. I’ve done what you did–cut holes in it many times to fix the sort of problem you describe. Then you end up trying to fix it, by knotting into place something like this, that will carry the current and fill the hole.
I have very mixed feelings about electric fence. It’s really designed to keep your livestock in, and isn’t always effective at keeping determined predators out. Best for goats is high-tensile with eight wires, three electrified, second from bottom, middle, and middle-high. But they still manage to get through, if they want to. Woven wire permanent fencing is pretty good and doesn’t need to be electrified, but only works on reasonably level ground. Which I do not have in very many places on my property. Small paddocks can be enclosed with hog panels. They make them specifically for sheep and goats, 4″ squares, welded one-piece units, 16′ long and 48″ high. But it would be prohibitively expensive to use something like that for anything bigger than a barn enclosure or a feeding lot. (I used them as the end panels in my feeders, instructions and references here. Over the last four years, it’s been my most-read post. Go figure.)
I try to use the electrification as a training tool, most recently for my still-young dogs, but it works for livestock as well. You have to really pay attention though, as I would never want an animal to become stuck in it, like Gretchen, while it was turned on. What you hope is that if the current is strong enough, and if they get zapped on the nose while they are testing it and while you have it turned on and are monitoring it, they’ll back off and think twice before they try it again.
Good luck!
Thanks, I’ll need it. I made everything portable. The 10×10 barn has wheels on the back so I can move it with the tractor. The boxes of rocks you see are counterbalance for the gates. That’s built on a skid and portable too. This is why I want the electric fence to be permanent and portable.