Waikato Fog Fence: A tribute to No 8 wire creativity - Glenn Dwight

Glenn Dwight's "Waikato Fog Fence" pays tribute to the region's iconic mist and Kiwis' love of all things fences. Photo / Sarah Ivey

There’s something about Kiwis and fences. We don’t just build them — we bond with them.

Somewhere along the way, a length of No 8 wire and a few wooden posts became a blank canvas for national identity.

Maybe it’s because we’re a country that likes to mark out our patch — whether that’s to keep the stock in or the neighbour’s dog out — but we’ve taken fencing from function to folk art.

Take the electric fence, for instance.

A marvel of rural ingenuity and the fastest way to turn a curious kid into a cautionary tale.

It’s a tightrope of temptation, whispering, “Go on, touch me.”

For generations, it’s been the source of dares, double-dares and the occasional public urination incident that ends in an abrupt and deeply personal lesson in conductivity.

Every rural Kiwi knows someone, or is someone, who’s discovered what happens when curiosity meets current.

And then there are the novelty fences. You know the ones.

The bra fence that waves underwire patriotism to passing motorists.

The gumboot fence.

The jandal fence.

Fences that look like a recycling bin exploded.

Each one more baffling and brilliant than the last.

They start with one item and end up becoming local landmarks.

Tourists don’t always understand them, but they stop for a selfie anyway - and that’s the point.

It’s rural eccentricity on display, nailed firmly to the fenceline.

That got me thinking - there’s one fence we’re missing. The “Waikato Fog Fence”.

Picture it: a fog fence. Obviously, as Bing Crosby would say, “don’t fence me in” — so not technically a fence, but a tribute to fog that resembles a fence (or a wall of fog).

I’m thinking a curtain of long, white plastic strips, like those flappy ones on old bach doors or the fish and chip shop that still proudly displays a faded “Best Fish ‘n’ Chip Shop 1998” certificate.

A gumboot fence in Eastern Bay of Plenty. Photo / Kim Gillespie

But instead of rainbow colours, just whites. Layers of whites. An ode to FOG!

And while we’re at it, let’s go full fog and start rebranding.

Every single all-white paint swatch in the Dulux Colours of New Zealand range? Rename them all Hamilton Fog.

Let’s even re-release the Beatles’ White Album as The Fog Album.

No track names. No cover art. There’s marketing gold here, Hamilton — and it’s just in time for Fieldays.

T-shirts with “Not to be Mist” printed in white-on-white.

Unruled 1A8 exercise books that look like stunning images of a foggy Waikato morning (until you realise they’re just blank).

Come on, Hamilton — let’s make the Fog Fence a reality.

After all, this is the birthplace of the electric fence.

You could say fences are the pulsing heart of the Waikato — a current running through Waikato veins, occasionally zapping our ...

And if nothing else, think back to the pure joy of running through a multi-coloured plastic flyscreen as a kid.

Now imagine doing that at 110km/h, in a Corolla, through a curtain of white.

Iconic. Inventive. Entirely unnecessary.

Glenn Dwight is the studio creative director – regional at NZME and an occasional writer for The Country.