The Down and Dirty of Owning Horses

This morning it is raining, and so I have respite from my semi-annual stint of spreading manure. Manure happens when you have a horse . . . and it happens and happens and happens until you have a huge pile which must be spread around. For the last two days, I have loaded my tiny spreader, headed to the field across the street, and dispersed a whole lot of #*$%^. As gross as it may seem, I find I enjoy the process. I'm outside enjoying the weather, sitting in my John Deere gator while thinking about lots of things, and paying some dues for all the pleasure I get from having my own horse.

Of course, I have a few scars from the process. My hands are a bit beat up from dings and scratches caused by digging out a clogged spreader (using a pitchfork, mind you) and from making emergency adjustments on the spreader chain. And I have that pitch and roll feeling one gets after a day in a rolling boat, except my pitch and roll is from bumping along through a unplowed, harvested cornfield in my gator for hours on end.

Despite the banged up hands, at the end of day one, I took some time to get on my horse, Jude, so I would remember why I love horses. We had a wonderful ride. We started by walking casually down our grass airstrip, just enjoying the warmest day yet this spring. When we were warmed up, we trotted large figure eights, working on softness and suppleness. Once Jude was in the frame, we cantered . . . first circles, then long straight lines, up and down the property line. When we finished, and I had dismounted, both Jude and I took that deep, long breath of satisfaction. He asked me to rub his head, and I obliged. We are well matched. He trusts me, respects me, and is my partner. And I trust and respect him.

I'll spread that manure every spring and fall because it is part of the deal, and as such, I'll find the good in it....cleanliness, of course; satisfaction in a job well done, yes; and contentment because the horse life is a good life.