During our farming years, we’d raised Holsteins, Black Angus, chickens (upon occasion) and pigs, and along the way held company with a few cherished dogs and cats. Never ever did we have a horse on the farm.
Until the other day.
When I was a little kid on our family farm, I seem to recall a horse keeping residence. My folks owned a 40-acre parcel of land near Big Falls where we kept heifers. We’d have to run water for them on a regular basis. I think I remember grazing with them was an old shaggy horse — put out to pasture as it were.
I’d asked my siblings if they recall this horse. My brother had no recollection at all but my younger sister thought she’d heard our mom talk about a strawberry-roan workhorse. It was a vague memory.
Nonetheless, while we never had any horses, my husband and I farmed 42 years together, selling our herd of dairy cows May 2016 and afterward, raising Angus for a time. It was during those years we’d dabbled in chickens — at one point getting six laying hens from a guy who helped me get started.
Another friend brought a chicken coop over and I gleefully gathered eggs for two years until the old hens stopped laying. I got disenchanted with tending chickens — especially in the dead of winter — so we gave our idle hens away to someone wanting meat chickens.
Later, at my insistence and really against my husband’s wishes, we bought 40 chicks raising them from babe to full-grown with the intent to butcher them. I got them so big, they looked like lumbering turkeys. I’d kept them on an open smorgasbord. After selling some and keeping some, we decided that endeavor was a one-and-done.
These days, back to tending Holsteins and pigs, we’d settled into our comfort zone.
One day, my husband was outside feeding cows when he called me. “Kay, look outside in the soybean field.”
Immediately, I ran to the back room window and stood there, speechless, as I spotted two horses moseying on down the field toward the cemetery, parallel to our field.
Incredulous, we reasoned who on earth could potentially be the owner of these horses? They looked so out of place in our soybean field it was almost funny.
We thought of one guy and calling him he exclaimed, yes, he was missing two horses and he’d be right over and do we have a cow yard he could round them up in? He’d bring his cattle trailer.
Not 15 minutes later, he came, bringing a couple of helpers with a trailer in tow. They unloaded two saddled horses and taking off at a slow walk, went looking for the runaways. In the meantime, my husband manned a post in our side-by-side and a gal on horseback stationed herself at the opposite escape route.
I noted the girl was intentionally staying off our lawn. Bless her heart, she was being considerate. Her horse was whinnying, excited no doubt about her comrades being on the run. I noticed horse apples the next day. Good fertilizer.
Stepping outside on our deck, I cupped my hands to my mouth and hollered, “Don’t worry about our lawn. Just do what you have to do to get your horses back.”
“Oh, OK. Thank you,” she gratefully responded.
Presently, I saw the lead guy riding his horse slowly up my walking trail alongside what used to be our Angus pasture. Following meekly behind him were the two fugitives. He’d ridden down and around them and kind of backed up his horse toward them. He could tell they wanted to follow him.
The owner had previously backed up his trailer to our cow yard to create a makeshift block and they submissively walked right into our cow yard. One was a feisty sort — a red-haired beauty. She wanted to bolt back out but the helper quickly shut the gate. Backing their trailer tight to the opening, they got them loaded up without delay.
Good thing we have a secure yard with a gate. My husband had chased the cows in the barn and locked them in so the cow yard was empty and waiting.
The two horses had been on the run for a whole day and probably were thirsty, hungry and no doubt tuckered. Glad for their adventure to be over, they cooperated pretty easily.
A car hitting the horses was the owner’s main concern and that someone may get hurt. He was grateful it ended so well.
Cows I understand. Pigs are doable. Chickens have been tried. Horses? That’s a new one.
(“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will remember the Lord our God.” Psalms 20:7, King James Version)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
