At this time of year 8 o' clock is already night. But the moon is full, and the snow sparkles underfoot, so it is easy to see the way from the house up to barn. It is also very cold, as often on a clear night, and my boots make that dry crunchy sound, as if the white stuff were brittle and about to break.The horses know it's time to come in for dinner, sweet feed with some carrots, and lush second-cut hay, so they are waiting at their paddock gates across from the barn. Just inside the barn, Augustine and Barney, the barn cats, are expecting my arrival curled up into each other on the old office chair beside the desk at which we do our record keeping. They are always first to get fed, because trying to get work done with two hungry felines trying to trip you up is a challenge. Barney gets the lion's share of everything. He has been with us for years, a black and white presence waddling about the farm. The impression of "roundness" is enahnced by the fact that he has only a stump of a tail, the majority amputated after it got infected last year. Augustine is still young, a kittne almost, but last spring she already presented us with four gorgeous kittens, one of whom lives in the farm house now.
Time to fill water buckets, put grain and carrots around, make sure all stalls have hay. Next, the senior horses get fed. They have access to an indoor area of the barn all day long, and they wander in and out, as they please.
First, there is Sukkah, who is probably well into her thirties, brays like a donkey and has a winter coat like a teddy bear. She is the kindest horse, and we treat her like the princess she thinks she is, always trying to find foods she will like so she can keep her weight up. She also gets lunch and a midnight snack to keep her going and on her feet. When she goes down she usually can't get up by herself, and so I check on her about every three hours around the clock. I would hate to think of her struggling in the cold, frantically trying to get to her feet. I have promised her this last good winter, and if she is to die, I want it to be when the field is lush and green, and she can lie down among the dandelions in peace.
Her favourite companion is Cookie, a little Shetland pony who almost starved to death at his previous home. Hard to tell now, because he's been making up ever since, and he is as round as can be. He only gets carrots and hay to try and keep him from getting truly obese. He's also had a bout with cancer, but seems fine now, fine for an older gentleman of 25.
Aysha is the youngest in the group, a tall, elegant standardbred, who had a short career on the racetrack, and who gets to clean up whatever feed Sukkah leaves over.
Then the younger crowd is brought into their stalls one by one: first CC, dark and handsome, who generally doesn't get along with other horses, but who loves Zorro, Aysha's son, who is meek, and not too bright, and sticks his tongue out a lot. They share the paddock closest to the barn.
In the other paddock adjoining it are Sundance, a little paint who is spunky and thinks he is the cutest thing going (which he just about is). He shares the paddock with Hopi, a litle warmblood, who was born on the farm, and is all of five years old.
Once all have eaten the grain, the noise of shuffling hooves and feed buckets being banged about dies down, and the barn goes quiet. Almost quiet. The only sound is that rhythmic sound of teeth on hay as the horses turn their attention to dessert. Everyone who has ever been around a horse barn at dinner time knows that wonderful noise that speaks of contentment and of everything being right in the world.
I listen for a while, trying to absorb the message. Then I wish everyone a Good Night and turn off the lights.
Comments