The Inevitable

I knew it from the beginning.  I did.  I knew it by the steady stream of horse books coming home from the library.  I knew it by looking around my daughter's bedroom.  I knew it when I scanned the empty back pastures and the generous hay supply in the barn.  I knew it as my husband's stoic resolve crumbled month by month.  Heck, I even knew it while my son's eyes welled up into an allergic sneezing fit whenever he got within ten feet of a horse.  This day was destined to arrive at the Homestead.

We have a horse.  Her name is Misty.

 

About two weeks ago, my husband, Hank, came home from work, excited about his latest discovery on craigslist (which he scrolls through over most lunch hours).  I could hear the trepidation in his voice when he said, "So I happened to come across a horse today..."  I laughed.  "Happened to?  Like it popped up in your search under horses?"  As the conversation progressed, it became clear that Hank had already done some preliminary research, contacting both the seller and his sister who is the family Horse Lover.  His ducks were in a nice, neat little row before presenting this very convincing case to me.  The horse is older, but healthy, on the smaller side and dead broke, likes children and presumably sheep, and very inexpensive.  The following Sunday afternoon the family piled into the car and took a drive.  It was inevitable.

Our daughter has been interested, no, in love with, horses since the age of four when we took her to the petting zoo.  I never loved horses as a child and have zero experience with them as an adult.  Hank never loved horses as a child, but has some experience and a lot of pluck as an adult.  And our son, I'm not exaggerating when I say he is horribly allergic to them.  But our daughter, the Rancher as we call her now, is calm, quiet, disciplined and persistent.  This experience is just what she needs to build her self-confidence and take her responsibility to the next level (she was in charge of the chicks all summer).  I imagine that coming out the other side of this, we'll find a mature young lady in our house.

Over the past years of horse-getting discussions, Hank and I had impressed upon our little Rancher the amount of responsibility required by a horse.  We'd talked at length about the before and after school chores, the worry of making enough hay and having enough pasture, the potential health problems, the overall costs and the simple fact that we didn't know much about owning a horse.   In fact, we'd done such an effective job of drilling this, that when the Inevitable came, our Rancher was almost afraid to be excited, the thoughts of all those forthcoming responsibilities weighing heavy on her small shoulders.  It took a couple of days before Reality really sunk in, and our daughter realized that Misty was hers, not only her responsibility, but also her joy. 

Each morning the little Rancher is out of bed before Hank and I.  She straps on the headlamp, hauls water buckets and tosses hay.  As soon as she's off the bus, she's back into her mud boots.  Toting her brushes out to the pasture, Misty gets a grooming, more hay, water and a pan of grain.  I'm typically in the kitchen making supper when the Rancher returns, and I get the evening Farm Report.  I'm informed that we need more bedding under the barn eaves because the runoff is making too much mud or that we're running low on sugar cubes.  I hear details about Misty's hooves or how her coat is growing thicker with the cold weather (she's part Curly).  But every day, my heart is warmed by the glow in my daughter's face and the sparkle in her eye.  Okay, it's only been two weeks and we're not experiencing that polar vortex yet, but I know this is a good thing. 

Hank has taken the reins (harhar!) on this inevitable Homestead Experiment.  He's put in the time, done the reading and sets his own To Do list aside when the little Rancher comes struggling around the corner with the saddle.  He knows how much this means to her, and their relationship grows stronger every day as together they work with Misty.  It reminds me how blessed I am to have such a husband, such a family, such a Life that can afford these simple joys.  Simple joys that took us on a family trip to the new Tractor Supply store where we ogled over the pretty halters and matching ropes.  Simple joys that led to an entrepreneurial discussion on how to market Misty's manure as the "world's best compost" (while we were shoveling it).  Simple joys that will involve the sewing of saddle pads and quilted blankets.  As with any new undertaking, Misty seems to have momentarily permeated all aspects on the Homestead.

Right now our goal is to fatten Misty up a little before Winter and, of course, learn the ins and outs of the equine species.  At the Homestead, our animals well-being is our topmost priority.  We aren't in the business of winning ribbons or breeding for perfection or even making money.  We raise animals for our own enjoyment and our own sustainability.  We strive to ensure that they have the best lives they can, with minimal stress and maximum affection.  So it appears that this Fall the sheep have a little more competition for hay and pasture, but as with most deals made over the fence line, I think the Shepherdess and the Rancher can work out something mutually beneficial.  I'll be sure to post updates on Misty, and I would love to hear your advice for a confessed Newbie!