Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me ride through the wild open country that I love
Don’t fence me in
Few Texans have not crooned this at least once in their life. Don’t Fence Me In, by famed composer (and not a Texan) Cole Porter*, may be matched only by Deep In the Heart of Texas for the go-to tune to croon when looking up at that big Lone Star sky, surrounded by a seemingly endless landscape. But, no matter where you are in Texas, there is an inevitable end to the land you’re on before it changes to different land—land owned by someone else. Sometimes the distinction is visually striking—barren, overgrazed land abutting, lush acres of native grasses and wildflowers, separated only by the cedar posts and thin lines of barbed wire. While Texas is an “open range” or “fence out” state, virtually every Texas landowner has dealt with a fence issue once or twice and is familiar with another Texas favorite: good fences make good neighbors.
Texas is an “open range” or “fence out” state (well, sorta)
Texas has been an “open range” state as a matter of common law since the Texas Supreme Court ruled in 1893 that “It is the right of every owner of domestic animals in this state…to allow them to run large.” The Texas Supreme Court reaffirmed this position in 1999 when, as described in Texas A&M AgriLife’s “Texas Fence Law: Open Range….or Not? (Part 1)” it “refused to adopt a common law duty that required a livestock owner to keep livestock off of the roadways.” Nevertheless, this common law is modified by stock laws which are “are considered by local voters and can apply to all or a portion of a county” and by a statute pertaining to federal and state highways. As explained in the AgriLife article:
“Many stock laws were enacted across Texas during by the 1930’s. The stock laws generally state that certain species of animals (i.e. horses, jacks, jennies, cattle, sheep, etc.) may not be permitted to run at large within the limits of the particular county. Essentially, a stock law changes the area from open range to closed range.
“Because each stock law is different, it is critical to determine the following information: (1) Does a stock law exist in the area; (2) What animals are covered by the law; and (3) Did the landowner ‘permit’ the animals to run at large.”
In short, want to know if your property is in a “fence out” or “fence in” area, you’ll need to contact your county. It’s not uncommon for this question to pop up when the cattle on the overgrazed land next to you figure out a way to get on your attractively lusher wildlife managed property. Simply put, if you’re in a “fence out” county, it’s your responsibility to keep the cattle out. To learn much more on this subject, be sure to check out AgriLife’s “Texas Fence Law: Open Range….or Not? (Part 1)” and “Texas Fence Law: Open Range….or Not? (Part 2).” Another helpful resource is AgriLife’s “Five Strands: A Landowner’s Guide to Fence Law In Texas” (downloadable PDF).
The twisted history of barbed wire
For some Texans, the ground shifted the day you learned it was barbed wire and not bobwire like your PawPaw called (and spelled) it. Barbed wire made so much more sense from an appearance and purpose stance than bobwire but it still felt alien, like you were trying to sound like the Queen of England. Nevertheless, it is those barbs (not bobs) that forever revolutionized fencing. As described in Atlas Obscura’s “The Invention that Tamed America, and the Town Obsessed with It”:
“Alongside the Colt pistol and the railroad, barbed wire is usually listed as one of the three main factors in how the West was won. Following the Homestead Act of 1862, millions of acres of the western United States were opened up to farming and new settlers needed something to protect their crops from free-roaming cattle and bison. Wooden fencing was expensive because the plains lacked trees, and furthermore it was susceptible to fire. Simple wire fences were light, inexpensive, and easy to erect. Wind didn’t blow them down and snow didn’t pile up against them. However when a wire fence was placed between a 1,000-pound Texas longhorn and a patch of lush green pasture, it proved to be something of a pushover.”
In Texas, the advent of barbed wire also led to an era of fence cutting in the summer and fall of 1883. Spurred by that year’s drought, ranchers on property without water access, and now surrounded by barbed wire, took to cutting to give their cattle access to water and grass. From the Texas State Historical Association’s information on fence cutting:
“Much of the cutting was done at night by armed bands who called themselves such names as Owls, Javelinas, or Blue Devils…Some owners defended their property, and at least three men were killed in clashes between fence cutters and ranchmen…By the fall of 1883 damage from wrecking of fences in Texas was estimated at $20 million-at more than $1 million in Brown County alone. The Fort Worth Gazette asserted that fence troubles had caused tax valuations to decline $30 million… Governor John Ireland called a special session of the legislature to meet on January 8, 1884. After a deluge of petitions and heated debates, the legislature made fence cutting a felony punishable by one to five years in prison.”
Good fences make good neighbors
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’
The famous line “good fences make good neighbors” is from Robert Frost’s 1914 poem, “Mending Wall” and, in today’s common parlance, may have deviated from Frost’s intent. “Mending Wall” is about two neighbors who, every spring, walk the fence line (in this case, a stone wall) to see where it needs to be repaired. As, stone by stone, they rebuild the wall together, one neighbor remarks he does not see the need for the wall as his apple trees will never invade his neighbor’s pines. But the other neighbor simply repeats his father’s saying—good fences make good neighbors. In Frost’s poem, as the two neighbors work together, the phrase seems to be more about building their relationship than building the fence.
Maybe the point is the working together, not the fence, that makes the good neighbors. But apple orchards, pine trees, and charming stone walls are not typically Texas, home to 1,000-pound Longhorns. Give us land, lots of land, with a starry sky above and if you’re going to fence us in, better make it bobwire.
*An interesting note about Don’t Fence Me In. In 1934, composer Cole Porter was hired to write a cowboy song for a film (that ultimately was not produced). Don’t Fence Me In is based on poem written by Robert Fletcher, an engineer with the Department of Highways in Helena, Montana. Porter paid Fletcher $250 for the poem which Porter then reworked.
Photo by Umanoide on Unsplash
