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Browsing Tag: #horse
I once owned the best horse in the world. It’s true, everybody wanted him. He was a perfect blood bay, no markings. Oh, he had about four white hairs where a star would have formed if hairs multiplied like fungi, but they don’t, so no star. He was 15.2 hands, and finely muscled from carrying me around for a minimum of two hours every day. I fed him an all-grain mix, heavy with molasses, cut with a bag of 12% sweet feed because I hadn’t been educated. And of course, I added a supplement for hoof growth, one that’s probably not around anymore, replaced by a fancier, daily-dose, with more attractive packaging, and marketed on all the right websites. I fed a supplement derived from seaweed and it worked great but smelled terrible. But my beautiful Saddlebred consumed it willingly. This horse would walk through fire for me. He was spirited, and every time I lost my balance, I could feel him shift to accommodate by oaf-like tendencies. He tried to help me look graceful. But I sometimes still wound up on the ground, and he would stop, and look down at me pityingly…maybe with a touch of disdain. I’d dust my breeches off and climb back on, shaking my head at myself. He was beautiful, and people would stop their cars in the middle of the road to watch us. I’m…
A lifetime ago, I was the new girl at the Co-op. I was continually dazzled and awed by the celebrities that darkened our doors. I’ve seen Phil Fulmer, Bill Landry, countless local politicians, loads of Partons (my favorite is Bobby), and the mule man from Silver Dollar City. Seems like everybody needs the Co-op at one time or another. But some of the ones I remember the fondest are the ones who aren’t famous at all. There was an old gentleman, always neat, always precise, always cordial, that came in regularly. And to be honest, I was terrified to wait on him. I didn’t want to mess up. He frequently had one or two sons with him, and their presence just added to my nervousness. More witnesses to see me mess up. One afternoon I didn’t have a choice but to wait on him and his five pound bag of bolts. Gary wasn’t there to bail me out and I had to look up every single size in “The Book”. That’s not the good book, but it is the Co-op Bible. Before the internet, it’s what we had for information. It was like a condensed farming encyclopedia with item numbers, descriptions, pictures, and prices because plenty of Co-ops still wrote hand tickets in the early 2000’s. Anyway, there were several pages of tables for pricing bolts. First you…
The Day 3: First Kiss & First Love Ugh. First kiss that COUNTED was in the loft of a beautiful old white barn. The barn was much better than the guy it came with. First love. My first true love was horses. I knew I loved them early on, even though I’d never had one. I loved carousels, and had to always have a pony ride at the fair and wherever else we went that offered them. Plus, ya know, I had all the hundreds of My Little Ponies to keep me entertained. But we eventually sold all the cattle off & my Mamaw leased the property to some horse owners. Oh, happy days! They came over each night to feed them and I was allowed to hold the bucket. Sometimes they let me ride when they had their saddles with them…and sometimes I snuck off and rode bareback, with only a halter and some makeshift reins from baler twine. I was a bit of a daredevil. I also took every opportunity to go over to Uncle Roy’s and ride any of his knothead ponies & horses. I would pore over horse magazines and catalogs, dreaming of all the things I wished I had the money to buy. Any horse program came on TV, and I would be glued to it. I would watch for horses out in pastures any time I went out, & loved visiting Churchill Downs and Kentucky Horse Park whenever…
I have a friend who is married to a farmer. They are raising their boys among the cows & corn. The boys have calves they bottle feed & sell, they have horses they check fences astride. They enjoy the day to day life of being outside, helping their daddy tend to the newly born, the ailing, the healthy. One day, I was disheartened to read on Facebook about how one of their sons was being ridiculed at school. A schoolmate called him poor because he lives on a farm. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Trust me, farmers aren’t poor. They meet struggle every day of their life. They are up against it at least fifty percent of the time. Imagine if your livelihood was dependent upon the weather. If it doesn’t rain one day & the sun shine the next, you might be looking for a job in town. And then when hay is ready to cut to feed the cows all winter, you pray for three straight days hot & clear. To get your hay to grow, it must be fertilized. Fertilizer runs around $500 a ton. One ton will fertilize roughly seven acres. If your fields yield well, seven acres of hay will produce maybe 100 rolls of hay. A cow will eat half a roll a day in the wintertime if their pasture is thin. You figure four months of winter, which is 120 days. If you have thirty cows, that…
