Living on the horse farm has to be the most memorable part of my life. Surrounded by fresh air, wide-open space, and peaceful, natural sounds, I cherished every minute spent with the horses. The hot, humid summers were always the laziest parts of life on the farm.
Rising early in the damp morning, I tried to get outside and start my daily chores before the inevitable heat struck the air. Breathing the crisp, morning air, winding through the maze of wagging tails and drooling mouths toward the sliding barn door, I always felt a sense of importance in my life. At the gates, anxious to get their breakfast after a long, cool night in the fields, the impatient horses pawed and neighed, telling me to hurry my step. The beautiful, bay quarter horse, Impressive, was always at the head of the pack. King of the group, he was also the trusty, old horse that I knew and loved. Unlatching the gate, I allow Impressive to walk through on his own accord and trot off to his stall, awaiting the grain and hay he knows will soon come. The rest of the pack is brought in one by one and placed safely into their spacious, clean and, for the meantime, cool stalls. Perfect, Taffy, Special, Max, Arbitrator, Melvin, Rupert, and more, all having their own turn, all knowing their place in the well-established pecking order.
Feeding time is always filled with commotion and seemingly unending, impatient screams. The average outsider would have guessed that the fat, robust horses hadn’t been fed in weeks. Slowly, the ruckus inside the old horse barn quiets and the only sounds are the slurping of water in between the low rumble of the horses munching their feed. The ball of radiating heat rising higher and higher in the mid-morning sky was only beginning to show the strength of its solar rays.
The Term Paper on Mexican Daily Life Air Kiss
Daily Life There are a variety of common courtesies that Americans should observe when in Mexico. Some of the important issues of cultural etiquette are described herein. When in Mexico Americans should refrain from calling themselves "Americans." Mexicans consider themselves Americans too since the whole continent is called America. Another part of Mexican culture that may be shocking to ...
Already, tiny beads of sweat were pooling on my forehead as I made my way through the isles of the barn cleaning and picking up after the morning feeding. As the heat inevitably soared to its summer normality the only sounds were the low hum of the fans cooling the steaming bodies and the soft snores of the sleeping beasts. Taking one last look into each of the stalls to make sure everyone was calm and quiet and ready to sleep the summer day away, I made my way back outside were I was promptly greeted by the all ten front paws of our pack of dogs. Petting and pushing and tossing balls away, I eventually made my way to the side farmhouse door.
Inside, I now have a chance to make myself some morning nourishment. Eggs, bacon and a nice fat, juicy steak have always been my morning delight. Glancing outside over the kitchen sink I quickly decipher that the heat and humidity is too great to do anything productive outside so I climb upstairs to put on my bathing suit for a leisurely day by the pool.
The air hovering right above the cool water’s surface was so much more comforting than the thick, humid air encompassing, what seemed like, the rest of the world. Dozing in and out to the comforting sounds of playful growls and low horse calls, I evaded the brutality of the summer heat. Complete relaxation always has an end. When the white ball in the sky drifted low enough to start cooling the air I dragged myself out of the in-ground pool and quickly felt the tiny goose bumps erupting all over my body. Quickly drying off and making my way to the house to change out of my wet clothes, I once again traveled toward the sleeping barn.
No sooner than I slide the front barn door open did the neighs fill the late-afternoon air. Calling hellos to all that would listen, I cut open the hay bails and transfer the flakes of hay to each stall floor. I grab the wheelbarrow filled with grain and make my way through the aisles dumping scoop after scoop into each greedy horse’s bucket. Every once in a while I have to dodge the chickens that roam free, each wanting her share of the grain spilling from the horses’ mouths. All through with feeding, I begin the daily task of walking the long fence perimeter making sure that the fence is secure and will safely hold the horses in for the coming night.
The Essay on Everyones day starts in the morning
Everyone’s day starts in the morning and ends in the evening or night. It is very important to know when a person usually wakes up, eats or sleeps at night because these all activities affect the person’s biological clock. If a person is not following his/her daily routine, it can put the person in trouble. For example, if a baby is not sleeping when he/she is supposed to, she can have really ...
The sunset tells me it is time to start letting the beasts out into the fields for their nightly romps. I let the lowest in the pecking order out first to have a few uninterrupted minutes before being told where to go by the alphas. Just as the last sunray sinks below the horizon I let the last horse out the gate to gallop of and join the rest of the pack congregating in the far left corner. I stand a few moments watching the beasts, feeling the inner peace and comfort every one of them gives me.
Strolling back into the barn, I look at the mess of the day waiting for me. One stall at a time I pick through the shavings and discard the waste and then smooth everything out to make a nice bed of clean shavings for each to lay on and sleep the next morning. After I sweep the halls and fill the outdoor water buckets I begin my favorite part of the day.
I duck under the fence, careful not to get stung by the electric wires, and make my way to the center of the dark, green field. Once there, I make my way through the crowd of horses to scramble up onto the top of the huge round hay bail. I stay out here for hours every night, watching and relaxing after the day. Nudged every once in a while by a friendly wet snout and licked by a salt-greedy tongue, I enjoy the peaceful sound of crickets and the slow flowing of the grass in the nights breeze.
After waking from a slight doze, I call goodnights and stumble back toward the farmhouse, eager to find my bed and nestle in for the night. No need for an alarm clock, my body will wake when it is time and I will start my day over again.
