THE FENCE-ROW 189 
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 
ieee a ple—fine wild herb 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) torotin 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 anda 
little strip of accompanying sod remains unturned, there will 
still appear the same old denizens of the fence-row that flocked 
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. 
