One thing is for certain -- he isn't Mr. Ed

10 June 2014

742

R. Linda:

I did not grow up on a farm, nor did I belong to any animal husbandry or agricultural clubs when I was a wee kiddo growing up in the town of Newry, Northern Ireland. This sort of thing just didn't go on in me little corner of the town. I don't think I ever gave a thought to barnyard animals in all me born days so to put me in charge of a large barnyard animal, that the size alone scares the bejesus out of me . . . well it was a unique proposition it was.

Me old neighbour who lets us poor folk in the woods (whose road was taken away -- you remember THAT) use his paved driveway to get to the road out of the woods to the highway, has been nice to never complain about us three neighbours coming and going at all hours up or down his driveway. No, notta word. However, recently he asked us (the men of the households) if we would be kind enough to keep an eye on the old farm while he and his wife went to visit their only child out in Vermont. It would be only three days (Memorial Day weekend) and that would be it. So if we could just feed the animals and clean out their mess well it would be much appreciated.

What can one do when one does not pay to use the man's driveway, and yes I know and he knows there is no other way out of the woods by means of his drive, and he even plows up to our rocky driveways any snow or ice in the winter without being paid for doing so (though we have offered but he always says, "No, one day when I need some help you all can do payment that way") and that is what occurred. Yes, R. Linda, the day had come!

I was the last one down to the meeting in the barn so I got the chore that was left. Oh yes, I did, and that chore will teach me NEVER, NEVER, NEVER be late for a meeting because the leftover chore OR more correctly the one nobody else wanted was saved for yours truly! Oh yes, it was and what a chore it be.

I was in charge of Armageddon. Yes, and you may well imagine with a name like that this animal was trouble with a capital T. He is a horse, a jet black Frisian (I was told that is the breed) just a tad smaller than a freaking shire horse. This big guy I was told was master of the barn, ruler of the farm, and full of himself and I can attest he is all that. And I found this out the hard way.

When I looked in the stall he seemed bigger than I remembered, but to be fair I've always seen him at a distance, all harnessed up pulling heavy stuff for me old neighbour, making it look rather easy. But when I thought back on some of the large trees he'd pull out of the way, or the waggon filled with heavy machinery that was being hauled to fix some broken part, well this be one powerfully strong mother.

I looked at him in the stall as he munched on his hay. The size of the hooves was gi-enormous! He didn't like me looking at his shiny self and to let me know he didn't like me looking, he'd pick up one of those big feet and slam it down on the stall floor making me glad me own large feet weren't underneath his.

"So is he tame?" I asked reluctantly.

"Oh sure," the old man laughed, "once he gets to know you he's like a cat."

"A cat? Not a big goofy dog?" I asked thinking cat? Really?

"Well Gabriel, he's sly like a fox and clever like a cat. Big goofy dog," more laughter, "no, not anything like that."

I was told to come down in the morning and give him his hay first, then his grain and lastly get the water bucket, clean it out and refill it to the top. Because Army (as he is affectionately called by his owner) will drink lots and lots of water. I was to let him eat in peace and come back in an hour, and if the weather was nice to let him out in the field if it rained keep him in. If it rained I'd have to muck the stall with him in it, but just give him hay and he'll be a good boy.

"Oh and Gabe, if he's in you'll have to come down several times a day to make sure he has hay because he'll destroy the stall if he's bored and lots of water because we don't want him dehydrated."

My neighbour Chemical Ali (as we call him behind his back) had arrived first for the meeting and so all he was doing was feeding the poultry. All he had to do was let them out of the coop and spread the stuff they eat on the ground, put the hose in the water thingie and he was out of there until the afternoon.

Charlie the other neighbour got the keys to the house to go in and feed the dog and the cat, let them out for some exercise and then come back at the end of the day for the same procedure.

The cows were up in the fields and Lois was always their caretaker so she wasn't even at the meeting and not really considered one of the driveway freeloaders so she really had nothing to do but keep an eye on the bovines.

I was shown where everything I needed was, and well I was not happy I had heavy shite to shovel and haul away (at least I had use of the tractor) and then I had to shovel sawdust into a wheelbarrow and then spread it around the stall. So I tried to psyche meself into this, I told meself that here it was me opportunity to pretend I lived on a farm and this was the prize stallion I was in charge of, etc., but walking passed me hammock on the way home made me NOT WANT TO DO IT!

So the next day, me first day on the job, I go down at 7:00 a.m. resenting I cannot sleep on me day off, to feed and get Army ready for the day. Unfortunately, the heavens decided to rain the entire day so that meant Mr. Army would be indoors. This unfortunate turn of events, I found out quickly did not sit well with that gi-mougus horse.

When I got there and opened the barn door I could hear him stamping impatiently so I opened the stall window so he might feel a little less confined. I turned the lights on and suddenly forgot what I was supposed to do first. So I went to the tack room and got down the feed bucket and started to fill that when I hear him slamming the stall window. I looked out and he picked the thing up with his teeth and hauled it upward and then released it and BAM it slammed down hard on the stall door. He did this the entire time I was trying to measure out the grains he was to get. I shouted to him I was coming, gees give me a chance I be new at this sort of thing.

I got the bucket and he saw me coming and stopped the banging of the stall window watching me come on. I thought good, he's quiet. I go to unlatch the stall door (oh and there are two latches because he's a Houdini, he can unlatch the top one and has let himself out, therefore a bottom latch he can't stretch that powerful neck to get at with his teeth). So I bend down to unlatch the bottom one and suddenly I feel this awful pressure on me back like someone took a row of clothespins and clipped them to the skin on me back. It hurt! The black devil had bit me and what an unpleasant surprise that was. I dropped the bucket luckily not spilling it because I didn't know how I'd have cleaned it up with those flashing teeth above me, and he was snapping the long yellow choppers as he stretched his long neck out the door trying to bite me again.

Lesson one: Never, never, ever open the stall window until AFTER stupid has feed in his bucket.

I put the bucket down which got him front kicking the stall door with those massive hooves as I went for a push broom which I raised in his face to back him up long enough I could shut the stall window. Once I had that he had moved to the back of his giant stall and was kicking now with one of his hind legs at the back of the stall. I was afraid to go in. I had thoughts of opening the stall door a crack and throwing in the grain, but I thought better of it. So slowly I opened the door after grabbing the bucket and entered slowly, me back up against the opposite wall from Mr. Horse and then very quickly I dumped the grain in the wall feeding station and then quickly hoofed me way out as he came at that feed station like he hadn't had feed in years.

I tell ya! I got that door closed and wondered how I was supposed to complete the rest of the morning ritual. Oi! Neither of me other two neighbours would appear until around 8, as those animals could go longer than Mr. I Am Going To Kill You And Then Eat You.

I will be honest once he was at the grain I quickly got the water bucket out of there, hosed it down, filled it up, lugged it back to its place, clipped it to the wall and ran out. I looked outside the barn and it was drizzling. I checked me phone and it said rain all day. Oh, goody. That meant I had to muck that stall with snappy horse inside with me.

I got the muck buckets, the shovel, and the rake and filled the wheelbarrow full of sawdust. I was all set except for one thing, me good trainers were not going in that stall one more time. I saw me old neighbours Wellies and put them on. They barely fit, but I didn't care. It was then I remembered the hay. I hadn't given stupid his hay ration. I went over to the bale on the floor and took a section and started for the stall but stopped just five feet from it. Mr. Grouchy had finished the grain, didn't want the water but was sizing me up standing there with the hay. His eyes were red in his head R. Linda, I swear they were. The demon horse from hell stretched his neck trying to reach me and the hay and curling his lips back over those long yellow teeth, he started snapping at the closed stall window. He used his teeth to grab hold of a bar but couldn't grip the bars that well.

Talk about intimidation that horse was the epitome of that word. I approached slowly and took a handful of hay and threw it at the window but it was too light and fell shy of the window. Which meant I'd have to bend over and pick that up but at least with the window closed, I'd not get bit again. So I took a bigger and heavier handful and squeezed it through the bars, and he grabbed it and threw it over his head. He looked at where it fell but made no move, instead, he was facing me waiting. I did the only thing I could to keep me safe, I slid the door open a tad and threw the whole section at him just missing him as it landed next to his bad self, but at least it was inside the stall. There he started to rip it apart and munch.

I left him at it deciding to come back later and muck. It was just too much adventure for a man who hadn't his morning Joe.

I did find an ingenious method of looping the water hose through one of Army's outside-facing windows where the water bucket was just beneath. Once I had it lined up I turned it on and easy-peasy water in the bucket without harm to yours truly's life and limbs. I left the hose there all day thinking I would periodically come down and refill the water bucket. Only stupid had other ideas on that score. He must have grabbed the hose with his long teeth and pulled the hose into his stall until it was strung taunt from spigot to window. I had a hell of a time hauling it out the stall window so I could re-set the nozzle up with the bucket. The third time I had to do this exercise, I got just so far and could not get the hose to slide out the window. Frustrated it was hung up on something I went around and inside the barn and there he was, standing on it. I shooed him from outside the stall but it took me getting a horsey treat to get him off the hose. He was turning out to be a real pain in me Irish butt.

I would also feed the hay through the stall window bars so I'd stay safe. But it came time for the evening feeding and the mucking of the stall. Sigh. Gearing myself up for an unpleasant time, I got everything I needed situated outside the stall door. I heaved a sigh and started forward, but he came at the stall door like he was going break it down. That gave me pause it did. I decided to get a section of hay and offer that, get him to the hay rack on the other side of his stall. I started to open the door and as soon as I was half in, he grabbed the hay and ripped it from my grasp. I was not happy. He was in me way now so I kicked the hay towards the rack to where I scooped it up quickly and threw it in.

Whew! He was over there ripping it back out and munching, so his teeth were occupied. I hurriedly got the muck buck and rake and started the back-breaking art of stall mucking. Horse manure when combined with sawdust shavings can get very heavy. I was a sweaty mess in no time. I had been busy on one side of the stall and had made me way to his end. I noticed he'd rip out a chunk of hay and then go to the water bucket, throw it in, wash it around with his muzzle and then clamp down on the twisted wet mess of hay and proceed to eat it! I guess since he wasn't getting pasture grass he was doing the next best thing. I thought that quite smart and amazing until he started splashing me with the wet hay. Then he'd wave the wet hay around over my head so I was dripping in dirty hay water. Yes, R. Linda, he was a real fiend.

Finally, finally, finally, I got the damn stall cleaned out and new bedding spread around but I had help on that last. I had dumped the sawdust in a pile and went back to get the rake to spread it but no, no, no help needed there he was with those giant feet pawing at the stuff and it flew, oh yes it did. Then he got himself down and rolled in it! I thought he was having a fit, I had no clue he was enjoying himself.

He got up shook himself like a giant dog and faced me as if to say, "Where's me dinner?"

I hustled to get the fresh water in first as he stood there watching me, snorting the whole time making me move even faster. Then I got the feed and instead of rushing for it like I expected he stared at me while pawing at the sawdust. I had done something wrong and only realised I didn't get the hay in there before the grain. Mr. Army had a routine and I was not playing by the rules, so as soon as I walked in with the hay, he grabbed it almost biting me hand off in the process and he threw it in the corner! Yes, he did, he threw it all over me clean bedding job. Then he turned his back on me like I was a nonentity and not worth his time. I tell ya!

I'd like to say me three days of horsekeeping got better, but it was touch and go for a while. I had another day of rainy weather so he was in and unhappy. The last day was nice and I was relieved because I was sure he'd kill me if he did not get out. I had to go in and clip the lead on his halter after I fumbled trying to figure out how that thing was put on. I be sure I didn't have it on right, but I didn't know. So I clipped the lead, opened the stall and he shot out of there like there was no one on the end of the lead. I was half dragged to the paddock. I had scuffed me jeans and when I fell he did drag me a good couple of yards before he stopped to look back and horse laugh at me.

Somehow I got him in the pasture, and as I tried to unclasp his bad self he took one big tug and the lead was out of me hands and he was flying around the pasture with it trailing in the breeze.

"Oh please don't fall on that, I be in big trouble you do," I mumbled to meself watching him throw up his heels and kick and then rear and buck and finally rolled around on the grass. He'd show me what freedom was. Freedom from me that is.

I'd like to think it ended there, but alas it did not. I had to go bring him in. I chased his giant arse over that field for two freaking hours! I could not catch him and he wasn't about to let me. He'd stand there looking back at me his giant butt facing me. As soon as I was within four feet of his head, he'd snort and run off. It was a game, a frustrating game. I was near tears, yes I was, like a girl, but you had to be there, the sun had gone down and there I was three hours overdue for me own dinner!

I collapsed me tired self in the middle of the field when I saw this figure in muck boots making her way towards me in the twilight. It was Lois, thank God for naked favours. She said she'd been up on her porch that overlooked the field and laughing at the antics.

"Antics? Right. His antics, me frustration!" I moaned as she walked up to me.

"Let me get him, Army and I have a good relationship," she said, but before she could even go get him, he whinnied and came trotting up to her like she was just the greatest thing on two legs. I tell ya!

She gave him a lump of sugar and he chomped down on that, his eyes for the first time totally content and happy. She picked up the lead and started off to the barn like she was leading a docile dog, but I knew if it was me he'd be anything but docile.

"You go on home Gabriel, I'll close up." She said, waving at me as she and the dark giant faded into the distance.

I sat there for not long at all. I got me defeated self up, brushed me butt off of grass and clover and headed over the fence for home. I could see the lights of me abode welcoming me and I could imagine the smell of a hot dinner waiting for moi. As I stepped in, Tonya came up with a martini and handed it to me.

"Here you need this. I saw you and El horse in the field, gees Gabe if Lois didn't get down there I'm afraid you'd have been there all night."

"IT WAS BLOODY DREADFUL! AWFUL, AWFUL EXPERIENCE!" I shouted letting it all out. I know very ladylike, but you don't know how scary that horse was and how careful I tried to be. I didn't tell the old neighbour that his beloved devil horse was just that. I made him out to be a perfect angel, but the old man knew I was lying.

"Angels and demons, Gabe, angels and demons." He said walking away as we parted the day after.

I thought that's exactly what it was, I was the angel Gabriel come to help the not-helpable demon horse Armageddon and he just can't be saved! Neither can I, yeah I realised I be a helpless wonder when it comes to barnyard animals. As if the turkeys aren't enough and the beavers, don't forget those mailbox-stealing buck-toothed beavers! Now I have a horse to contend with, and I know I will be stuck again because that's Murphy's Law for Irish Gabe!

Doesn't it look at home . . .  and happy? 

Gabe
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