Coffee hour after church—something triggered discussion of electric fences.
I was in my early teens when the farmer who leased Cousin Mabel’s farm installed one between two pastures, those not separated by stone walls. Cousin Mabel assured me I was not in danger of electrocution but didn’t go into detail on how it would feel to touch the fence. I assume that was not within her experience.
My friend Meredith and I walked thru the pasture on our way to the beach, walking parallel to that thin wire with its steady click-click pulsation. We wondered how it would feel. We dared each other, “I’ll touch it if you do!” How do you touch an electric fence? Certainly with only the tips of fingers—or maybe we could maintain a degree of separation—with a bobby pin! We each pulled a pin from our hair, held it at the tips of our fingers. “One, two, three, go!” We touched the tips of the metal pins to the fence. The pins few off into the grass and the shock jolted to our shoulders. Curiosity satisfied, bobby pins lost, we proceeded to the beach for our swim.