I traipsed across Minnesota and North Dakota through factory farms and cemeteries this summer. Trying to link childhood memories with physical locations, only to find they were gone. The only building standing seventy years later was a big white barn. Is that how long it takes for things to become unrecognizable? The span of a life?
When I bought my farm, it was the most run-down, trashy, but charmingly affordable property on our road. The horses joined me as soon as I got the pen up and a gate on the driveway. And like all farms, regardless of size, there was work to be done, and I did it. My time here has flown by, but my trip north has me thinking. Remembering generations of animals that have shared my farm. The ways I have changed over these years, my life expanding in ways I could never have dreamed. The only thing that hasn’t changed here is the dirt road out front.
Twenty-six years later, there’s only one neighbor on our road who has been here longer than me. Kids left home and people retired. Some moved to town, tired of the upkeep, and some moved farther out as the population encroached on our quiet. There are upscale McMansions within a mile, but the median income on our road stayed the same. We’re blue-collar here, and so were the incoming neighbors. People live out here because they have habits not welcome in town. I think you know mine.
The farm across the road was sold to a family who brought us all together for the first time, but for the worst reasons. Their dogs ran free through their three-wire fence and maimed or killed the neighbor’s goats and dogs. Those dogs disappeared and a new crop of dogs arrived almost bi-annually but no apologies. They always had horses that whey chased on dirt bikes. Mostly lame and always underfed. Their kids had friends over after school, spinning donuts and fighting in the yard.
They were not great criminal minds. The kids robbed the neighbor whose goat had been killed, so things added up quickly. You would have thought the deputy sheriffs had lunch there, as often as they prowled up the driveway. Nothing brings neighbors together quicker.
It was impossible to look away. Our farms faced each other. For almost fifteen years, that one neighbor cast a dark cloud over all of us. Sadly, I’ve written about this neighbor. She’s the one who shot her horse in their front pasture.
Not long after that, their farm went on the market. The siege was over, and our little road exhaled, sleepy again. Their farm sat quiet for months. I hadn’t noticed until then how much anxiety had knotted up in my gut over the years. The threats, the restraining orders, the constant low-level of fear. I outlasted them.
Over all these years, generations of animals came and went from our farms. Not just horses, but llamas and goats, donkeys and cats, and all manner of chickens and ducks. And of course, we had dogs. Always, dogs. Mister’s ears perked up. You had dogs before me?? I nod, there were eight dogs here before you. He looks betrayed. Inconceivable, he said.
Initially, I was one of seven properties that had horses. Folks rode by in the evening and waved. We helped each other when needed and were peaceful loners the rest of the time. An early horse friend was one of the first to move after a family tragedy. A couple who only rode in parades was next. Over the years, other farms sprouted for-sale signs overnight.
Now there are only two of us with horses on the road. That’s if you count my farm, more of an equine retirement community. My farrier says it’s happening all over. I ask other trainers, barn owners, and clinic organizers to take the temperature of the horse industry. Everyone feels a shift. I see it in my clients who are aging out or downsizing for financial reasons. It’s normal, even expected. What I don’t see is the next generation coming up. The dozens of horse-crazy thirty-something women who rode posse with me.
Like my road, change was happening before we recognized it. Not the farms so much as the people living here. New families arrived who saw the land differently and had different goals. Will my farm become part of a suburban wasteland of jumbo-sized homes with white carpets one day?
I recently spent time with a dear horse friend. She’s a bit younger than me, but no longer has horses. Dogs have become her passion. A lateral change. We went to a dog show and spent most of our time watching dogs compete at fastCAT and dock diving. Jolene says, what? You went without me? I told her it wasn’t her kind of dog trial. Inconceivable, she said.
After a line of dogs had flown yards through the air over water, a small dog got coaxed to the edge. He flew several inches through the air and dropped like a rock. We cheered him as he coughed out the water he had swallowed and ran up the ramp to jump again. Jolene and I mostly stay dry at scentwork, but it’s the same amusement park kind of fun.
As the afternoon stretched, we saw people laughing and cheering their dogs, laying on the grass with them, and the dogs having so much fun barking and running fast and splashing. It slowly dawned on me these dog-crazy thirty-something women would’ve had horses in my generation. Not lost, they have dogs that don’t require a trailer and shoes every eight weeks, and acreage to live on. They played hard, like my friends and me back in the day. Have they gone to the dogs? Jolene says just because it isn’t the change you want to see, that doesn’t make it wrong. When did she get so mature?
Another set of new neighbors has bought the farm across the road. Again, I have a front-row view. It’s a young couple with a toddler. Seeing a child on this road is like spotting a rare bird. They also have five dogs. I think they bought the farm for them. One night the woman was out throwing the ball, and I came to the edge of my property and waved. She put all five of her dogs on a down-stay and walked across the road to talk. The dogs stayed. Times are changing indeed.
The neighborhood has never been more peaceful, I think. Right about then, Jolene body-slams my chest with a tug toy, but she doesn’t quite knock the wind out of me. Mister lifts a disapproving eye. He needs only one eye for that. He says, the future will be what it is. Much will be lost, but also gained. When did he become a politician?
And I have begrudgingly changed. My old horses still nicker at me, but almost by default, I’ve been caught up in change that doesn’t negate my past, so much as it announces my future. And the ghost pack says high time.
Would I rather be cantering a half-pass before my tempi changes on a horse young enough to still have a spring in his back and half a desire to run away with me? Maybe, but whining about the past pollutes the present. And living on a farm taught me to want what I can have.
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Women Aging Cantankerously
I feel your pain. We’ve been on our farm so long that we’ve watched the trashy neighbors come, go, and now they’re back again. We lived through years of constant craziness. ATF camped out on the ridge across, waiting to swoop down and bust the crack house next door. The years of big black pickup trucks parked not on the driveway or on the road, but smack-dab in the middle of the front yard. The loose dogs who killed our neighbor’s pregnant show goats. The toddlers DCF found in the middle of a New England winter, dressed only in diapers and wandering (unsupervised) toward a nearby, fast-running stream. The kids that were young when we moved here grew up, moved away and never came back. Their parents retired, then packed up and moved to be closer to their new grand kids. There was a span of about a dozen years when things were pretty quiet. Almost normal. But we’ve shifted again, and now we’re back to the chaos. I find myself hoping I don’t have to have a “Come To Jesus” moment next weekend. Do the city folk who moved in closest to us even know that fireworks and horses (who are 100 yards from their back door) probably aren’t a good mix? I hope so, but I’m not holding my breath. History has taught me to be a cynic.
Oh, Cheryl. We thought crack house but no ATF. I try to hold hope, mainly in self-defense. How’s the horse population?
The local horse population is hanging in there. My hubby’s best riding buddy (besides me) is just down the road and at at 73, still has two horses. He and my hubby try to ride weekly. Other end of the road hasn’t fared quite as well. A once steady riding buddy and farrier lives on on that end, but his last horse passed almost a decade ago and I don’t think another will take it’s place. None of their (now adult) kids are interested in living the horse life. So it’s just us and the buddy up the road. But hell, I’m turning 70 and our two horses are in their late 20’s so … yeah. My husband says he has one more horse left in him, but he’s only just 65, so we’ll see how that looks in another few years. I’m just thankful our two horses are hanging in there and are still game to hit the trail a couple of times a week. But I also know that could change tomorrow.
That is what I ususally hear, people of a certain age with horses of a certain age. As you say, that could change tomorrow. Then it gets tricky. Good luck to your husband when the time comes. These are precious rides you’re having. Thanks Cheryl.
I lost Rocky last year at the grand age of 32, we’ve got 3 dogs and regularly “dogsit” my daughter’s 2 when she travels as one of her high school’s chaperones… 5 silly dogs zooming in and out of your back dog door as they run around even just a measly acre+, barking at deer, can be a whole lot of crazy 😜🤪😝… wouldn’t change it for the world.
Sorry, I can still see Rocky. Never really gone, but hard to reminisce in the chaos of all those dogs! Good for you!
“…want what U can have.” Sage advice from a wise sage.
Still beats the alternative. Thanks, patti.
I am so very glad for you and your farm to have peaceful neighbors next door. That is a huge relief.
I love the reflective nature of this post – and the kindness in its tone – towards self and others. Thank you and please keep on writing, teaching, coaching and inspiring people.
Thank you. I write what I want to read. I appreciate your kind words.
We’ve seen change too, maybe not in the difficult ways you have. I would ride on my road 35 years ago when I moved in, but not now. It was all farmers then, they would slow down for a horse. Now city people have moved out to the country and built huge homes and drive fast. I think mine are the only horses on my road now, though there a couple of people with them on the cross roads. There ARE still lots of sheep and goats and nurserys and farmers, along with the McMansions. I also agree that the younger generation is not coming along. Our local dressage chapter folded after those of us who had been running it for 20+ years decided we were tired of doing that, none of us were showing anymore and most weren’t even riding. The one or two younger people in the group weren’t interested in running it. Several other local chapters are gone for the same reason. I belong to a trail riding club now, over 100 members, founded in 1969, but we don’t see the younger people coming along to run it either. And yes, Cheryl mentioned the fireworks, worse now than 35 years ago. On the 4th, I’ll bring my horses, who usually are outside 24×7, into the barn for the night, and sit with them into the early hours of the morning, until I’m sure it is quiet outside. The life we live for the ones we love.
Such a wonderful bittersweet comment. Thanks, Helen. I wish I was your neighbor.
We still have that trail outfit just down the road, so an ever-changing parade of horses coming and going. Getting my horse fix periodically rounding up their escapees, since Val’s been retired to Paradigm Farms in Tennessee. Finally took down the paddock fencing last month. Not gonna lie – tears were shed. The doggo helps 🥰
I admit a lump in my throat, thinking about the gift you gave Val. It must have hurt almost as much to see the paddock as to take it down. And somehow the trail outfit endures? What a world.
I so enjoy your weekly messages. Many/Most? things that hit my inbox are immediately trashed but yours, I always look forward to and read as soon as I have a minute! We are close to the same age and though my life has been much different (raised in the suburbs but always a Horse Girl!), I relate to so much that you share as we our bodies continue to downgrade and the world around us changes faster than we can keep up with. Still have one horse–an Andalusian-Arab cross–but I fear both he and I are on our last legs. 🙁 Then what? I guess we’ll see. Thanks again for the wisdom you share. It makes me happy to know I’m not alone in this world! <3
Dawn, thanks for the kind words. Thanks for coming along… we are all switching lanes or thinking about it. You horse’s breeds are close to my heart, I’m sure you have shared wonderful times. Also trying times, but that’s what makes it so sweet right now. Give him a scratch from me.
We haven’t lost the horsey neighbors yet (though many of us are aging) but we have had a lot of infill with neighbors that like ORVs and fast cars. I can ride a mile and a half down what was once a quiet road to get to a park, but I no longer feel comfortable road riding because the drivers don’t know how to slow down and pass horses safely. I haul out to ride more than I used to. Things have definitely changed.
How would those newbies even know about horses? Take care, thank you for commenting, Michelle
I am a septuagenerian, deep into dog agility for about 20 years. Many of us are from horses, in my case as a child up through my thirties. Loved them and still do! But the dogs live in my house, sleep in my bed, hop into the suv to head to a trial, hiking, the beach, or just shopping.
Other changes: my granddaughters are into horse but where I ran around the plains and the hills, they ride in well groomed show barns, do their lessons, put the horses away into manicured stalls. Just not the same!
Thanks for this comment, Nancy. It feels like all the women I meet at dog events used to have horses. I love that we are still horsewomen, now with dogs. And what you say is true. We were wild girls compared to kids these days, but the world does turn.
Still plenty of horses where I am (pacific northwest) but the mild climate makes it an easier endeavor here than elsewhere. Our local pony club chapter has more adult members than kids .. found that out a few years ago when I had my two daughters join to join to get some horsey friends their age. There weren’t any! I am always amazed when they have friends over the total lack of interest in seeing/ being around our horses, though when they were little most of our birthday parties had a pony ride component. I kind of doubt either of my kids will have horses as adults a they see how much work it is. But only time will tell!
Thanks for this comment. It’s bittersweet to think our daughters might not have horses, but I do hear it often… and I didn’t know adults could be in pony club. It’s backwards, but a group is a good thing. Here’s the the beautiful Northwest, where I have my teen years with horses.
A few years ago I used to camp next to a pony club. What I saw horrified me. Parents who are clueless about horses, but worse were the “instructors “!
I have fond memories of my pony club days and the expertise available there.
These days I can’t watch any horse events I come across as maybe 1% don’t break my heart.
Wish I could go to the dogs but all available these days is herding cats- which it seems I’m reasonable at😁
Yeah the instruction wasn’t going to work for us either. In their second lesson the instructor hit my daughters (extremely sensitive) horse. We would never have gone back after that regardless.
“And living on a farm taught me to want what I can have.”
My quote of the day (for tomorrow).
Thank you, Mary. Hope your farm is thriving.
I keep writing the same thing – great post, Anna
You and everyone here make me feel at home. The changes were coming back when I buried Chico & “left the barn” where I had boarded for 12 years. When a friend & I moved up there – our stalls were still getting the bars put in! And there were more draft horses – Belgians, than saddle horses. The couple who owned the place got to be like family. But years went by & the old man who had the pulling horses died, big guys (sweet sweet horses) got sold, and indoor arena built and 18 more stalls with kids who took dressage and hunter/jumper lessons. Both my kids got horse experience and so did my grandchildren.
For the first few years, I would go up & check on Chico’s grave – planted a pear tree & daffodils around it. But it made me miss him and what we had, so eventually quit going.
I think probably one of big reasons fewer kids get involved with horses is the expense, which I’m sure is much more than it used to be – feed, finding a farrier, and veterinary care alone has got to be a biggie.
Thanks, Maggie. I feel my boarding barns were a huge part of life and I hated change there. Later, I trained at boarding barns and boarded on my own farm. I know how hard it is to break even, much less make a living. At least we have rich memories.
Saw a video on Utube talking about UC Davis dropping its Division One Equestrian program ranked No. 7 nationally.
Lots of upset there – and not a lot of opportunities for the students to transfer elsewhere. Spoke about the horses they use for this program are donated. So dropping the program, what happens to them?
And it’s happening across the country. Sigh.
Don’t forget that home ownership, let alone an acreage, is becoming less and less accessible. I want very badly to live with my horses but it just isn’t in the cards for us right now. Fortunately, I am able to board them with my friend whose ethos very much aligns with mine, though her farm is over an hour’s drive away.
When my treasured senior endurance horse died unexpectedly last year I wanted to quit horses all together. I tried other hobbies but turns out I can’t live a satisfying life without them, so now there is a project horse I own and an experienced endurance horse on loan to me. Plus I’ve become an equine professional (hoof trimmer) and I need the creative outlet of my own horses to play and experiment with. So they are a business expense on paper.
Maybe the point is, there will always be a few of us who have horse blood in our veins, no matter how much we wish we didn’t, and we’ll make every sacrifice necessary to have them in our lives. But with the barriers increasing on every front, yeah, you are going to have a lot fewer people casually dabbling in horses.
I don’t think we ever quit being horsewomen. Whether we have horses or not. And then life happens… This is a great comment, Kristine. Thank you.