Back in November, our work horses gave us a little extra work to do. Two out of three of the rascals found every bit of burdock in the pasture and came into the barn with manes and tails full of burrs. We sighed and put burr removal on the list.
Since it was both the first two weeks of horses-in-their-winter-paddock and the last two weeks of CSA distribution, the horses were close by for our CSA members to see. As we were thanking everyone for their support of small farms, farmers, and farm horses, the members could visit and admire the horses.
On the first of four harvest days in that two weeks, we told our members that we were a little embarrassed to have our horses looking so unkempt. On the second day, we were a little more embarrassed. By the third and fourth, we wondered if we should try to hide our burdocky horses behind the barn.
It wasn't until a week after harvest days ended that we had time to tackle the burdock. We were cleaning the manure out of the paddock, and I haltered the horses and took breaks from shoveling to work on the burrs. My fellow took a break from shoveling too, to walk with the pooch, who was tired of behaving nicely around the horses.
Then I quit shoveling altogether and worked on the burdock. Fern, who is an easy-going gelding, didn't mind at all. Willow, a high-strung mare, wasn't so sure about it. Once she figured out what I was doing and that I was going to be doing it for a long, long time, she relaxed. She dropped her head. She closed her eyes. I sang to her. She leaned her head towards me, happy to have that annoying burdock by her ear removed.
It was getting later and later and darker and darker, and I got the last burdock bits out by feel. After three weeks and three plus hours of concentrated work, we had two burr-free horses. Actually, we had three, because Molly, our wise old retired horse, never got into the burdock at all.
Instead, wise old Molly, on a very windy day in December, was happy to discover that the paddock gate had blown open. She is a most excellent tip-toer through slightly open gates or tiny holes in the fence.
Some time later, my fellow and I came outside to work in the greenhouses. The paddock was empty.
“Where are the horses?” I said.
He checked the barn. No horses.
Then we noticed the gate swinging in the wind and followed the tracks. Wise old Molly had led the herd out of the paddock, skirted around the end of the first greenhouse, and squeezed along the narrow walkway between the greenhouse and the garden fence. We found all three of them in the tiny patch of land between the first and second greenhouses, happily pawing through the snow to find a bite of grass. Such clever naughty horses!
While I was holding the dog so he wouldn't overexcite any horses in tight quarters, my fellow led Molly back, then Fern and Willow. It was still windy, and the gate almost immediately blew open again while my fellow was checking the rest of the fence.
“Here she comes!” I hollered, meaning Molly, who was gleefully racing right back to the open gate. My fellow darted over to stop Molly while Willow and Fern raced around the paddock in all the excitement. The dog barked by my side. He wanted to join the fun too.
This time we tied the gate shut. We admired all our burr-free, high-headed horses high-stepping it around the paddock, kicking and bucking.
“Glad that didn't happen next to the greenhouses,” said my fellow.
“Or in the dark,” I added.
“Let's take a long walk to celebrate!” said the dog. So we did.
Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, Jan 7 - Jan 13, 2025