In a recent conversation concerning the debate of race tracks versus nature, it was pointed out to me that the Langley community prides itself on being the horse capital of B.C. I countered with the fact that recently, the town of Enderby has approved corrals and hitching posts in vacant lots, designated horse lanes and elevated walk buttons at cross walks so the ranchers can ride to town.
To me, this sounds like the type of actions you would expect in a horse capital. We all know getting around on horseback would probably be much faster than driving a car through our community these days. The problem is, people still drive trucks and cars on the same streets as bikes and horses and not everybody is a cycle enthusiast or a horse lover.
I am not a horse person. I grew up on a small farm with cows and chickens but no horses. I have never had much luck any time I’ve had to deal with horses. Whether I whisper to them or shout at them, they pay no heed.
My in-laws boarded a couple of horses with another lady at a farm close by. One summer when they went away on vacation, we were saddled with the evening stall cleaning and feeding. As you have discerned from reading my column, I can shovel it pretty good, so the cleaning fell to me.
One night my wife was sick so I had to go do it all. The cleaning went OK but preparing the stalls presented a challenge. Each horse has a different diet. One of them could only have shavings on the floor and grain in the pail because it was allergic to hay. That makes about as much sense as a cow being lactose intolerant.
I got all the stalls done, opened the gate to the corral and four horses trotted in and went in the stalls. I closed the doors and went home. The next morning my wife received an angry phone call from the lady who did the morning duties. Apparently all four horses were in the wrong stalls.
A bunch of dumb old Holsteins can line up at the barn door and proceed directly to their designated stanchions day after day but these equine elitists had to have valet directions? She asked, “Couldn’t you tell the difference in the horses? One had a blaze on the forehead one had white fetlocks, one was at least a hand taller that the other three.”
Sorry, they were all brown and they seemed to know exactly where they were going. What was the harm? I guess one sneezed all day from eating hay, one had the runs and the other two kicked the daylights out of the side of the strange stalls. Cows lie down and go to sleep.
The pitchfork and shovel duty was the highest degree of responsibility I ever achieved again that summer.
I did see a quote on a stable wall that probably applies to me: “Many people have sighed for the ‘good old days’ and regretted the ‘passing of the horse,’ but today, when only those who like horses own them, it is a far better time for horses.” — C.W. Anderson
The only thing I learned that summer is that the best way to cure a constipated horse is to put him in a clean horse trailer. At least that’s what McGregor says
