Editor’s note: we’re looking this week at the many changes brought on by the invention of widespread distribution of barbed wire. This is the third in a five-part series.
By 1879, barbed wire was available at P. Sonna’s store at Main and Ninth. The Statesman brought up a drawback that caused some consternation in the early years. “The only objection to this kind of fence is that stock may be injured by running against it.” The story went on to say, “This can be avoided by placing a board or pole at the top.” The recommendation was a fence made of seven strands of wire. Why so many? To keep rabbits out and hogs in. Denying rabbits entry with a barbed wire fence was likely aspirational.
The 1879 article noted that the cost of barbed wire fencing was about equal to a board fence, but would be much more durable. That cost quickly came down as production ramped up.
Animal injury became a big concern in the early years of fencing. Idaho joined other territories in passing laws to require a wooden top rail on all barbed wire fences. Improvements in the design made the barbs less lethal, and that law was eventually dropped.
But barbed wire found itself tangled up with other laws. Ranchers sometimes illegally fenced off public land. Farmers who used the fence to keep cattle out sometimes found themselves embroiled in fence-cutting wars.
Barbed wire today is as synonymous with the Old West as tumbleweeds, though we tend to forget neither existed in the early days of cowboying. Wire fences quickly marked the end of the cattle-driving men on horseback. Barbed wire did away with the need for many cowboys. A fence simply better-controlled cows on the range.
Cheap fencing made property ownership in the West more obvious. Our culture loves to establish boundaries.
At the same time, the miles of what Indians sometimes called “devil’s rope” further restricted Idaho’s Tribes from following traditional hunting and harvesting patterns. If barbed wire did not tame the West, it certainly cinched it down.
Tomorrow: Wired for War
By 1879, barbed wire was available at P. Sonna’s store at Main and Ninth. The Statesman brought up a drawback that caused some consternation in the early years. “The only objection to this kind of fence is that stock may be injured by running against it.” The story went on to say, “This can be avoided by placing a board or pole at the top.” The recommendation was a fence made of seven strands of wire. Why so many? To keep rabbits out and hogs in. Denying rabbits entry with a barbed wire fence was likely aspirational.
The 1879 article noted that the cost of barbed wire fencing was about equal to a board fence, but would be much more durable. That cost quickly came down as production ramped up.
Animal injury became a big concern in the early years of fencing. Idaho joined other territories in passing laws to require a wooden top rail on all barbed wire fences. Improvements in the design made the barbs less lethal, and that law was eventually dropped.
But barbed wire found itself tangled up with other laws. Ranchers sometimes illegally fenced off public land. Farmers who used the fence to keep cattle out sometimes found themselves embroiled in fence-cutting wars.
Barbed wire today is as synonymous with the Old West as tumbleweeds, though we tend to forget neither existed in the early days of cowboying. Wire fences quickly marked the end of the cattle-driving men on horseback. Barbed wire did away with the need for many cowboys. A fence simply better-controlled cows on the range.
Cheap fencing made property ownership in the West more obvious. Our culture loves to establish boundaries.
At the same time, the miles of what Indians sometimes called “devil’s rope” further restricted Idaho’s Tribes from following traditional hunting and harvesting patterns. If barbed wire did not tame the West, it certainly cinched it down.
Tomorrow: Wired for War
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