Well, I cannot believe I am saying this, but this is my last article of 2010. By the time this is published, I may actually have my Christmas shopping done. If not, there is still time - my family is not celebrating until Tuesday, Dec. 28. Aah, I live a procrastinator's dream.
Speaking of Christmas shopping, I just saw an interesting headline at MSN.com, "Ten Baby Gifts that Parents Hate." This subject always cracks me up. Trust me, a gift giver; every parent wants a break from his or her kid. Gift certificates to a nice restaurant or baby-sitting coupons always go over exceptionally well. Besides, after having walked through scores of kid-oriented store aisles, I can tell you that modern toys are the best form of birth control ever, bar none.
Thankfully, I am not a new (or expecting) parent, so I very seriously doubt that I could receive anything despicable. To the contrary, for Christmas this year I got a pair of horses. Yes, you read that right.
As you know, I am also a dairy farmer. Brace yourself, I am about to say something considered sacrilegious to most dairy producers: I love my horses.
This is something very meaningful to me, perhaps even something I have always wanted. I have a photo of my great-grandfather, taken in Switzerland when he was a young boy, before immigrating to the United States. He is holding a horse, which towers above him. My dad's earliest memory was sitting atop a draft horse. He laughs when he describes how his legs stuck straight out to either side, so flat was the animal's back. My earliest memory was riding my mother's pony, clutching its mane for support. Yes, you could say that I have always wanted a horse.
I also remember when the pony got sick, and the sad day my mom had to sell her. For more than 20 years, this farm has not seen a horse. Until recently I would walk into the old tack room, see the bridles, bits and halters hanging against the wall. In the corner hung an old saddle. Gone was the signature aroma of oiled leather, replaced by cobwebs, dust and a pungent hint of mice. On these days it was difficult to imagine the prospect of ever using this beautiful equipment again.
Growing up on a farm, I longed for the freedom, strength and splendor that such an animal represents. It is worth pointing out that my dad balked at the idea; I guess he doesn't romanticize the notion of galloping down waterways, trotting along the creek, or simply walking through the shade of a walnut grove. So, the idea was scrapped.
After college I came back to the farm. Then, I got married. Seeing my mother-in-law's involvement with horse racing, one day I casually mentioned, "Hey - if you happen to come across a retired race horse, something docile and forgiving enough for me to handle ... " Right around Thanksgiving, I got the call.
Introduce mare Direct and gelding Nukie, two American Standardbreds, aged 17 and 15 years, respectively. Both retired racehorses, Direct was actually rescued from a kill truck. After Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws, I visited the pair.
Those of you who have experience with large animals, particularly horses, know the primal feeling of awe and respect that accompanies a well-trained horse. I spoke softly, walking with caution toward the two. Nukie tossed his head, irreverent of my presence, but Direct approached with soft, gentle eyes. These are such amazing creatures, no taller than a large dairy cow, but agile, commanding and powerful. Eventually, Nukie obligingly came over. After all these years, I finally had my horses. Only one problem remained.
I had the perfect shed with electric water, plenty of grass hay and bedding. Only, my dad, who until now was profusely opposed to horses, owned it all. I had planned on building something, but not until the ground thawed in 2011. Would my dad, the most dramatically outspoken opponent of horses, allow me to house my two until spring? What drama.
Well, it is worth pointing out that even the staunchest of cattleman can appreciate the beauty and grace of a pair like Nukie and Direct. Sitting atop these animals bestows a type of unfettered freedom unlike anything else on earth, including flying or motorcycling. The feeling of attachment is reciprocated; I can hear a whinny as I go about my chores on the farm. Now, rather than a cheeky shun, Nukie comes to the fence to nuzzle me as I approach. Although I love my cows, there is no comparison to a horse. With Nukie and Direct, I get soft affection. Even the nicest cow will inevitably snort, sneeze, or cough a haphazard slug of mucus in my direction, totally oblivious to the nastiness of the gesture.
Aah, yes - what a pleasant change. So then, as 2010 draws to a close, I wish each of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Joyfully, I still have one Christmas to go. As we close, it is worth pointing out that, as opposed to being a parent, there is no "hated" gift associated with horses. When asked what I want, I simply reply, "Anything horse-related."
Besides, if I ever need a break from Nukie and Direct, I need only throw some extra hay over the fence. No babysitters here - they may not even notice I am gone.
Speaking of Christmas shopping, I just saw an interesting headline at MSN.com, "Ten Baby Gifts that Parents Hate." This subject always cracks me up. Trust me, a gift giver; every parent wants a break from his or her kid. Gift certificates to a nice restaurant or baby-sitting coupons always go over exceptionally well. Besides, after having walked through scores of kid-oriented store aisles, I can tell you that modern toys are the best form of birth control ever, bar none.
Thankfully, I am not a new (or expecting) parent, so I very seriously doubt that I could receive anything despicable. To the contrary, for Christmas this year I got a pair of horses. Yes, you read that right.
As you know, I am also a dairy farmer. Brace yourself, I am about to say something considered sacrilegious to most dairy producers: I love my horses.
This is something very meaningful to me, perhaps even something I have always wanted. I have a photo of my great-grandfather, taken in Switzerland when he was a young boy, before immigrating to the United States. He is holding a horse, which towers above him. My dad's earliest memory was sitting atop a draft horse. He laughs when he describes how his legs stuck straight out to either side, so flat was the animal's back. My earliest memory was riding my mother's pony, clutching its mane for support. Yes, you could say that I have always wanted a horse.
I also remember when the pony got sick, and the sad day my mom had to sell her. For more than 20 years, this farm has not seen a horse. Until recently I would walk into the old tack room, see the bridles, bits and halters hanging against the wall. In the corner hung an old saddle. Gone was the signature aroma of oiled leather, replaced by cobwebs, dust and a pungent hint of mice. On these days it was difficult to imagine the prospect of ever using this beautiful equipment again.
Growing up on a farm, I longed for the freedom, strength and splendor that such an animal represents. It is worth pointing out that my dad balked at the idea; I guess he doesn't romanticize the notion of galloping down waterways, trotting along the creek, or simply walking through the shade of a walnut grove. So, the idea was scrapped.
After college I came back to the farm. Then, I got married. Seeing my mother-in-law's involvement with horse racing, one day I casually mentioned, "Hey - if you happen to come across a retired race horse, something docile and forgiving enough for me to handle ... " Right around Thanksgiving, I got the call.
Introduce mare Direct and gelding Nukie, two American Standardbreds, aged 17 and 15 years, respectively. Both retired racehorses, Direct was actually rescued from a kill truck. After Thanksgiving dinner at my in-laws, I visited the pair.
Those of you who have experience with large animals, particularly horses, know the primal feeling of awe and respect that accompanies a well-trained horse. I spoke softly, walking with caution toward the two. Nukie tossed his head, irreverent of my presence, but Direct approached with soft, gentle eyes. These are such amazing creatures, no taller than a large dairy cow, but agile, commanding and powerful. Eventually, Nukie obligingly came over. After all these years, I finally had my horses. Only one problem remained.
I had the perfect shed with electric water, plenty of grass hay and bedding. Only, my dad, who until now was profusely opposed to horses, owned it all. I had planned on building something, but not until the ground thawed in 2011. Would my dad, the most dramatically outspoken opponent of horses, allow me to house my two until spring? What drama.
Well, it is worth pointing out that even the staunchest of cattleman can appreciate the beauty and grace of a pair like Nukie and Direct. Sitting atop these animals bestows a type of unfettered freedom unlike anything else on earth, including flying or motorcycling. The feeling of attachment is reciprocated; I can hear a whinny as I go about my chores on the farm. Now, rather than a cheeky shun, Nukie comes to the fence to nuzzle me as I approach. Although I love my cows, there is no comparison to a horse. With Nukie and Direct, I get soft affection. Even the nicest cow will inevitably snort, sneeze, or cough a haphazard slug of mucus in my direction, totally oblivious to the nastiness of the gesture.
Aah, yes - what a pleasant change. So then, as 2010 draws to a close, I wish each of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Joyfully, I still have one Christmas to go. As we close, it is worth pointing out that, as opposed to being a parent, there is no "hated" gift associated with horses. When asked what I want, I simply reply, "Anything horse-related."
Besides, if I ever need a break from Nukie and Direct, I need only throw some extra hay over the fence. No babysitters here - they may not even notice I am gone.
