Yesterday I wrote about some frustration with my electric fencing. It seems that one day wasn't enough, as I woke up today to find all the pigs out of their paddock again! This time, it wasn't my fault for leaving the fence off, but rather corrosion somewhere along the line that led to a poor connection. After I herded the pigs back yet again, I decided to completely rewire the fence (I had been taking advantage of an old electrical connection to the pasture). Electric fencing is a blessing and a curse: a blessing because it's so cheap and effective; a curse because it is so fragile. The total length of wire leading to my pasture is about 1/2 mile, and any place where the wire breaks, corrodes, or touches a source of good ground (like a metal fence post) will cause the whole fence to stop working (an electric fence works by sending short duration high voltage pulses of current every second or so. There is no return wire, so the pulse returns to the transformer via the ground. Animals (humans too) are very conductive and create the connection between the wire and the ground, hence the shock). When a fence grounds out (by rubbing against a metal post for instance) you can usually hear the spark, but when it corrodes or breaks like it did today, there is no visual or auditory clue. Trying to find those breaks or ground outs, and having smart animals that test the fence regularly, is the curse.
So, the fence was rewired via a much more direct connection, the pigs were back in their paddock, and everything seemed hunky dory. About two hours later, the power goes out to the whole farm. Now, normally an electric fence is a good psychological barrier and the pigs won't test it very often, but since they found it off two days in a row, they hadn't built up their psychological resistance again. I hoped the power would come back on soon...but three hours passed. I figured they had escaped again, and went to go check on them. Sure enough, out of the paddock (An aside: the sow's udder was looking much smaller today, so I decided to give up on anymore forced weaning and hope that she comes back into heat on her own in the next few days. The whole family is now back together). As I was walking back for yet another turn at pig herding, I heard the fence clicking--the power was back on! I turned off the power to the pasture, herded them back in, and ran back to hook the power back on. At this point, the psychological barrier was completely gone, and in the two minutes it took me to run back, a few of the piglets had escaped again! I left the power on this time, and physically picked up each of the escaped piglet and put it back in the paddock. Not an easy feat now that they're at least 60 pounds a piece. The fence was hot, the piglets tested it and learned their lesson. All seemed back to normal.
And then my stupidity reared it's ugly head. I saw that in all the commotion, a piece of wire had fallen onto the ground. It wasn't enough to ground the fence completely, but I didn't want to take any chances. Now, I'm not stupid enough to touch a hot wire, but apparently I'm stupid enough to try to use a wet plastic bucket to move the wire, and apparently that is enough to create a really good circuit--wire, bucket, me, ground. Now, I've been shocked many times by electric fence. It's more of a surprise than actual pain--it gets your attention. Well, this time, it was the mega-shock. I was blown backwards onto my back into the mud. It must have looked cartoonish--reminded of the scene in Jurassic Park where the girl gets shocked. Dripping mud, and with my tail between my legs, I turned off the fence, fixed the wire, and went in to shower.
Here's hoping tomorrow goes smoother.
So, the fence was rewired via a much more direct connection, the pigs were back in their paddock, and everything seemed hunky dory. About two hours later, the power goes out to the whole farm. Now, normally an electric fence is a good psychological barrier and the pigs won't test it very often, but since they found it off two days in a row, they hadn't built up their psychological resistance again. I hoped the power would come back on soon...but three hours passed. I figured they had escaped again, and went to go check on them. Sure enough, out of the paddock (An aside: the sow's udder was looking much smaller today, so I decided to give up on anymore forced weaning and hope that she comes back into heat on her own in the next few days. The whole family is now back together). As I was walking back for yet another turn at pig herding, I heard the fence clicking--the power was back on! I turned off the power to the pasture, herded them back in, and ran back to hook the power back on. At this point, the psychological barrier was completely gone, and in the two minutes it took me to run back, a few of the piglets had escaped again! I left the power on this time, and physically picked up each of the escaped piglet and put it back in the paddock. Not an easy feat now that they're at least 60 pounds a piece. The fence was hot, the piglets tested it and learned their lesson. All seemed back to normal.
And then my stupidity reared it's ugly head. I saw that in all the commotion, a piece of wire had fallen onto the ground. It wasn't enough to ground the fence completely, but I didn't want to take any chances. Now, I'm not stupid enough to touch a hot wire, but apparently I'm stupid enough to try to use a wet plastic bucket to move the wire, and apparently that is enough to create a really good circuit--wire, bucket, me, ground. Now, I've been shocked many times by electric fence. It's more of a surprise than actual pain--it gets your attention. Well, this time, it was the mega-shock. I was blown backwards onto my back into the mud. It must have looked cartoonish--reminded of the scene in Jurassic Park where the girl gets shocked. Dripping mud, and with my tail between my legs, I turned off the fence, fixed the wire, and went in to shower.
Here's hoping tomorrow goes smoother.
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