I wake up to a gray morning, with all the indications of a rainy day to come. I am staying at a friend’s farm while they are out of town. The house sits about halfway up the side of a hill, which is part of the foothills of the Appalachians and looks down on a gorgeous valley below. There are lots of windows to enjoy the view, as well as a wide deck on which I like to sit and just take in the beauty, and I have five dogs to keep me company. Inside is Bella, a chocolate Lab who is a little on the chubby side, Pepper, a black Lab mix with a white patch and grey on her muzzle, like me. Outside there are three large white friends with black markings. Jack, Toby, and Molly. All are sweet, gentle and friendly.
There is a green topped barn with natural wood siding holding stalls for four horses, two donkeys, Opal and Ruby, and a host of goats and chickens of various colors of brown, red, black, white and speckled. All with breed names that escape me when I try to remember. Below the barn is a well laid out group of pastures, fenced gardens, and fields recently turned, the rich brown soil just waiting to be planted this spring. There are a green John Deere tractor and a 1980 Ford tractor, both waiting their turn to work the fields.
In the middle of the pastures is another green topped building with natural wood sides. This one hold hundreds of bales of hay, winter food for my four-legged friends. If I look to the right, there is a small cottage, beside which sits a water wheel, not used now but on the list for future use. Beyond all this is woods, a pond, and more hills looking back at me.
I head down the steps and go to the garage. A golf cart awaits me, and I load it with buckets of food. Bella jumps up beside me, and we head toward the barn. On the drive down I can already hear Opal and Ruby hee-hawing as they know it is time for breakfast. I do not know if they wear watches, but their internal clock works just fine. They must wait until I feed the horses and they are not happy about it.
The senior member of the herd, Koa, is big with a light brown coat and dirty blonde mane. He is a bit of a bully so I must shut his stall after I feed him so he will not try to eat everyone else’s food. Once this is done, I go to the stall of the other horses. Big Boy, Peppy, and Clover. All three big and a beautiful chestnut brown with black manes, Peppy has a white patch from his ears to his nose and can be a bit of a ham when a camera is nearby. The boys try their best to get in the feed bucket before I can get it in the feeder. One of them reaches over my head with his chin and gives me a good lick on my noggin. I am not deterred and manage to fill each of feeders without giving in to their efforts to steal food. Clover, who has been patiently waiting, escorts me to her favorite feeder spot.
By this time, the donkeys are threatening mutiny, so I quickly put their food in each feeder and then we are friends again. Back to the cart and I carry the food for the goats and put it in each feeder. Goats, like the donkeys, are not patient, but unlike the donkeys, they are not vocal, they just jump in the back of the cart and steal whatever food they can reach.
Then it is on to the chickens, a few dozen in strength, and happy when I spread out their food. They cluck and cackle and run around scratching, searching for the best bits of breakfast. After all that, I take a wheelbarrow to the hay barn, grab a bale, and distribute it to the horses and donkeys. It is time to take care of the water troughs, so I fill them, get in the cart, and go back up to the house.
This may sound boring and too much like work, but I enjoy being, and interacting with the animals. There is something deeper, something spiritual, about working with the animals and working the land. The best way I can describe it is that it feels like home.
There is a green topped barn with natural wood siding holding stalls for four horses, two donkeys, Opal and Ruby, and a host of goats and chickens of various colors of brown, red, black, white and speckled. All with breed names that escape me when I try to remember. Below the barn is a well laid out group of pastures, fenced gardens, and fields recently turned, the rich brown soil just waiting to be planted this spring. There are a green John Deere tractor and a 1980 Ford tractor, both waiting their turn to work the fields.
In the middle of the pastures is another green topped building with natural wood sides. This one hold hundreds of bales of hay, winter food for my four-legged friends. If I look to the right, there is a small cottage, beside which sits a water wheel, not used now but on the list for future use. Beyond all this is woods, a pond, and more hills looking back at me.
I head down the steps and go to the garage. A golf cart awaits me, and I load it with buckets of food. Bella jumps up beside me, and we head toward the barn. On the drive down I can already hear Opal and Ruby hee-hawing as they know it is time for breakfast. I do not know if they wear watches, but their internal clock works just fine. They must wait until I feed the horses and they are not happy about it.
The senior member of the herd, Koa, is big with a light brown coat and dirty blonde mane. He is a bit of a bully so I must shut his stall after I feed him so he will not try to eat everyone else’s food. Once this is done, I go to the stall of the other horses. Big Boy, Peppy, and Clover. All three big and a beautiful chestnut brown with black manes, Peppy has a white patch from his ears to his nose and can be a bit of a ham when a camera is nearby. The boys try their best to get in the feed bucket before I can get it in the feeder. One of them reaches over my head with his chin and gives me a good lick on my noggin. I am not deterred and manage to fill each of feeders without giving in to their efforts to steal food. Clover, who has been patiently waiting, escorts me to her favorite feeder spot.
By this time, the donkeys are threatening mutiny, so I quickly put their food in each feeder and then we are friends again. Back to the cart and I carry the food for the goats and put it in each feeder. Goats, like the donkeys, are not patient, but unlike the donkeys, they are not vocal, they just jump in the back of the cart and steal whatever food they can reach.
Then it is on to the chickens, a few dozen in strength, and happy when I spread out their food. They cluck and cackle and run around scratching, searching for the best bits of breakfast. After all that, I take a wheelbarrow to the hay barn, grab a bale, and distribute it to the horses and donkeys. It is time to take care of the water troughs, so I fill them, get in the cart, and go back up to the house.
This may sound boring and too much like work, but I enjoy being, and interacting with the animals. There is something deeper, something spiritual, about working with the animals and working the land. The best way I can describe it is that it feels like home.
|
Lonnie McKelvey is a freelance writer from Fort Payne, Alabama, and is a regular contributor to Grandparents Day Magazine. |
