At 6am my alarm goes off. I hear the groan of annoyance from my twin sister’s bed as I slam the snooze button down on the alarm. It is early for a Saturday but it has become routine for me. Once I feel awake enough, I put my feet on the freezing cold floor and shiver, wishing my mom would spark up the wood stove that went out overnight. I shiver again as I put on my fleece leggings and under armor top, jeans, wool socks, boots, sweatshirt, and finally my heavy waterproof work jacket. I grab coffee and a bagel and head out the door to warm up my jeep, being sure to get my yellow leather work gloves on before I touch the freezing steering wheel. It is my first winter with my license and I have learned that the car won’t be warm until I am almost at my destination and for this reason gloves are essential. I enjoy the early morning jazz on the radio as I wind down the back roads. Snow blankets everything around me in the blue tinted winter morning and I enjoy the peace. When I take the familiar left onto Old Mill Road, I put the Cherokee in Full Time 4-wheel drive and pump my brakes as I rumble down the long, icy dirt road I have grown so familiar with. They are waiting.
I pull the latch and slide open the two gigantic wooden doors to the big blue barn. Standing in the center of the aisle, I see white clouds of breath swirling out of the stalls to the left and right of me. I hear stomping, and a few shrill whinnies. Then come the dogs. Two Catahoula Cattle dogs, Cat and Pi, spring down the length of the aisles toward me and I greet them each with a small piece of my bagel.
I am sixteen, and for the next 4 hours I will be the mother of 40 horses, 5+ dogs, and two cats, and I absolutely love it.
I make my way over to the white board where the map of the day’s placements are. Every horse is in their designated night spot, and as the morning farm hand it is my job to move them to their daytime spot – a game I like to call Musical Horses. Before I move each horse, I bundle them up in their coat for the day, and say good morning. They respond with nuzzles, kisses and whinnies. Probably because they know I have snacks in my pockets. Then I bring them where they need to go; one by one, sometimes two by two, or even four by four if I feel like it, taking into account the order in which they must move to execute the puzzle. I reflect on how this was the hardest task when I began this job over 6 months ago, remembering each of the giant animals names, remembering who I had to move first in order to avoid a horse traffic jam. As I walk with two horses on each side of me, I laugh at the times I used to be sheepish about moving one at a time.
Kazam was a painted pony I frequently brought in with 1 or 2 other horses. She was very popular.
I am not sure when or how I got the job at Dunroven Farm, just that I woke up one day and decided I wanted to do something different. I had grown up with horses my whole life on my small farm at home. But I didn’t know what working at the barn would truly entail. Horses are as high maintenance as people, if not more. I experienced horses allergic to grain, allergic to hay, had intolerances to certain fabrics, you name it. I experienced horses that had twitches and compulsions like kicking their stall walls or eating the wooden door, horses that kept their stalls neat and tidy and horses that were filthy. They even had social problems. There were horses that couldn’t play nice with other horses, and some horses that were inseparable. One unlikely pair was a huge black and white horse named Goliath, who was best friends with a miniature Pony named Pippin who was white with blue eyes. They couldn’t be apart from each other, they were truly best friends. I would go about my day, working until the whole lists of tasks were done.
I worked to clean each of their stalls and the outdoor paddocks. I got them fresh water and made their food to order (literally—the horses with allergies were especially picky). I worked among them, and most of the time they ignored me. But on occasion, they would feel social and do something to brighten my day.
Each horse had their own personality and they always knew how to make me smile. Boarders and people taking lessons also were encouraged to bring their dogs to the barn, and at any given time I could be seen with 5 dogs trailing me as I pushed a wheelbarrow full of poo all over the farm.
A few of the loving “Barn Dogs” that kept me company all day long.
When I first started at the job, I was very intimidated. Certain horses knew they could scare me and so they did. They are truly amazing animals, they will challenge you and test you, just like people, and they sense weakness. I was kicked, nipped, pushed over and bullied by some horses. One would purposely knock over my wheelbarrow of poop if they were sick of me being in their space. They would yank the lead rope from my hands and sprint all around the farm if they were sick of me moving them from place to place. For the first month, I would drive home physically, mentally and emotionally drained. I was embarrassed about working there, and hid it from a lot of my friends for the first few months, changing into my barn clothes at a gas station down the road after school rather than at school. I came close to quitting multiple times, but something kept bringing me back.
My boss told me I had to gain their trust and establish my leadership, and I worked hard every day I was there to make that happen. After a few months, I was accepted, respected, and loved. I truly felt this job helped me learn to be around such amazing animals and get close to them. The barn became a therapeutic and peaceful place for me to go and burn off some steam and just be outside. I grew to love the company of the animals, and the people who frequented the barn. At Christmas, a few of the horse owners even got me gifts as a thank you for taking care of their horse.
Carlos, one of my favorite horses, enjoying some flurries.
Just as I seemed to be gaining the animals’ trust, it was winter. On a farm, everything is harder in the winter. Where there used to be water, there was ice. Ice froze to buckets making them three times as heavy, ice froze the hose turning it into a giant leaden snake I had to carry all over the farm; ice froze the ground outside threatening to cause an accident involving a person, or a horse, or both. Poop freezes to the ground, what once was a scooping motion becomes a chiseling motion, etc. Then everyone needs a coat. People and horses alike wore layers upon layers of coats. Putting on a horse coat is like getting a gigantic 4-legged toddler into a snow suit. And I did that for every horse, and every jacket. It was brutal. And yet I stayed. The work was satisfying, but the animal’s company was the true reward.
Muppet is seen here snuggled in a winter coat and hood.
Almost a year upon working there, in the cold darkness of February, me and my high school boyfriend of two years broke up. It was my first real heartbreak. The barn was my sanctuary during that hard time. I specifically remember one day when I was doing my usual task of mucking the paddocks, and a sad song came on my iPod. I felt myself getting choked up, and my heart sank as I remembered all the pain I would have to face back at school the next day. Before I could get too upset about it, one of the horses (her name was Hope, ironically enough) barreled towards me and knocked the pitchfork out of my hand, and my iPod out of my pocket. The mare immediately began nuzzling me and shaking her head around in a crazy manner. “She wants you to play with her!” shouted one of the boarders. I smiled and gave her a few pats, thanking her for cheering me up. Then all the dogs came running into the paddock, splashing water up from the puddles and putting their muddy paws all over me. I started laughing and smiling and felt a million times better.
Hope and I continued our playful friendship for the remainder of my time at the barn. She loved to nuzzle the top of my head and get all her spit in my hair.
I sometimes think of my barn family, and how those days were some of the most introspective and wonderful times I had to myself. I learned a lot about physical and mental discipline from that job. It got me over heartbreak and through one of the hardest times of my life at that point. I am not embarrassed about it anymore, I am proud of my days at Dunroven Farm, and I will forever remember the times I had there with all the animals. I hope that soon I can go back and open those blue doors and see my old friends and thank them for giving me this experience.
A view of the beautiful indoor arena and one of the several luscious pastures at Dunroven Farm in Harvard, MA.