September 2020 FRC Member Newsletter

Carol-Ann Genevieve Riley
Guest Author, Carol-Ann lives in Alberta, Canada
Owning a farm
Why do we even choose this? We've reviewed all the choices available to us,
and yet we choose this lifestyle, an occupational hazzard within itself. We have to be a jack of all trades.
Mowing. Haying. Mending fences. Repairing shelters. Building things. Taking apart things. Painting. Trying to
figure out why the ride-on mower won't start today, when yesterday it worked just fine. And what was that
ominous clunk sound the truck just made? Operating heavy machinery, and all manner of other equipment,
large and small. Lifting heavy bags of grain and bales of hay. Be the first aid attendant to those who can't
speak, and sometimes to the humans who speak very well - #$£^$ in between grimaces, or the farm accountant
calculating feeding:weight ratios, budget analysis, tax filings, and chequebook balancing. Cleaning
stalls, getting trampled and stepped on, and thumped by big bodies. Trying to be safe at every turn because
this is an every day job, and they need you. There are no holidays here, even for Christmas. No sick days.
There was a birthday last week? Wait, what is the date today? No weekends off (what are those?). Having a
horse farm, any farm really, doesn't have time for excuses. "I'm tired" doesn't mean stop. You stop when the
work is done, no matter how long that happens to take or how early you started. Sometimes, especially during
foaling season, your bed is a stranger, and you're so tired your teeth hurt. It can make you feel elated,
and yet simultaneously feel at your worst. The highs and lows can be epic. Everything here revolves around
the horses, 24/7/365. You are always on call, and always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And yet we revel in it, and love the punishment it hands out. We show up yet another day, hot beverage in
hand, walk out the door and see their faces lined up along the fence, ears pricked up in our direction, and
hear their snuffles and nickers of greetings. And the familiar sense of amazement and contentment at their
warm soft noses nuzzling you for that carrot they know you have for them. You listen to them thumping
their feet, wanting breakfast, encouraging you to be faster about it, and it makes you smile. And then for a
few precious minutes, you lean on the fence, the pile of hay at your feet, and you watch and listen to these
gentle giants, who are woven into your very DNA, munch their hay in contentment, feeling the stress just
melt out of your soul. That is why you choose this.
To my fellow farm owners - a head nod. Another day, another dollar out the window. You have my respect,
and my sympathies.
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