THE FENCE-ROW 



189 



Pig. 73. May-apple— fine wild herb 

 that lingers in the fence-row. 



bles springing up everywhere, and wild grape, woodbine and 

 poison-ivy climbing up the posts. But, however much grain 

 the farmer may have spilled on the sod, we do not find grain 



growing there. Our cultivated 

 grains are weaklings, requir- 

 ing constant coddling. 



Just what we do for them 

 when we break the sod, may be 

 seen on the furrow side of the 

 fence-row. If here and there 

 be an overturned sod that has 

 escaped subsequent tillage, we 

 see the wild things have been 

 cut off far below the ground and 

 turned upside down. Thus we kill some of them, and give 

 others a bad set-back, and leave the severed roots of all of 

 them (excepting such as sassafras) to rot in the ground. But 

 as our plowshare cuts, our mold-board breaks the sod while 

 turning it over, leaving it more open to the air, and favoring 

 new growth of roots. The difference made in texture may be 

 proved by probing with a stick , and the effect of subsequent 

 tillage as well, if we probe both the sod, turned and un- 

 turned, and the mellow root-free soil of the field. 



As time has run, and farms have multiplied and the wild 

 animals, against whose incursions fences were once built, have 

 disappeared, as methods have become more intensive and 

 greater areas have been devoted to raising forage and less to 

 the ranging of the stock, fences have become less important ; 

 at least, relatively fewer fences are needed; for many fields 

 may now go unfenced. Yet wherever a fence is built and a 

 little strip of accompanying sod remains unturned, there will 

 still appear the same old denizens of the fence-row that nocked 

 at the heels of the pioneer — berry-bearing bushes and 

 brambles and vines. Amid the vicissitudes of tillage, the 

 fence-row is as a haven of refuge for these wild things. 



