This morning Brian (I was inside, he was outside) opened the front door and called, "Lance is out." We had put the horses on the NW corner of our property so they could eat down the last bit of tall forage, and I don't think the electric tape is 'hot.' Apparently the grass is greener next to the woodshed; this is what I saw when I went out through the front door:
Good thing he's not spooky or reactive, because there isn't a lot of open space where he was standing!
I grabbed his fly mask and he stepped carefully through and over the firewood as I led him back to join his herdmates in the pasture (on the far side of the woodshed).
Before long, Brian repeated his earlier alert. This time I found Lance under the walnut tree:
At this point I said 'uncle' and we led all four horses to the secure lower pasture.
I am so glad that the horse camp we are headed to this weekend has permanent pole corrals at each campsite. I don't know that we could keep Lance contained within a small enclosure powered only with a battery-operated fence charger, or on a high-line!