Chapter 3
Getting To Know You
Once all the students had arrived, I ushered them to the picnic tables outside the barn.
“Good morning everyone,” I greeted. “I am Annabelle Daughtry, and welcome toEquine Nutrition and Care. These are my two stable hands, Jessup and Cara. If I am not here, treat them with the same respect you would give me.”
They waved to the class before I continued.
“Over the course of this semester, you will learn the basics of caring for horses. I know most of you have been around these animals for most of your life. Some of the things I am going to be teaching you and have you doing might seem tedious or overkill, but trust me, even the most experienced horse lover can learn new tricks and benefit in some way. If you don’t feel that way by the end of this course, just remember it is a requirement to sign up for other classes and graduate so at least you’ll be one step closer to your goal.”
I started handing out the personalized syllabuses to my ten students, calling them out by name. Once each one had their packet, I went on with my typical speech.
“I know you probably downloaded and at least skimmed the generic syllabus I uploaded onto the course’s webpage, but these are your individualized versions. There are ten of you and thirteen horses in my stable—one for each of you along with mine, Jessup’s, and Cara’s. You will care for your assigned horse like he or she is your own. Every morning and evening you will tend to your horse—feeding, cleaning, brushing, and mucking out the stall. Stark, Cara’s Cleveland Bay, and Wilson, Jessup’s Appaloosa, are completely off limits unless they ask you for help with them. The other eleven horses in the barn are Kentucky Mountain Saddles, including mine, Hunter. I am assuming you’ll be able to tell the difference by the color and characteristics of the horses, but each one’s name is on a plaque above the stall, just in case.”
The sighs that emanated from the group were expected and hilarious.
“I know this seems like a lot, but it is part of being a horse person. I suggest you get your fellow students’ phone numbers. Mine, Jessup’s, and Cara’s are in your syllabus. If you have a conflict come up—emergencies do happen—you need to find someone to take over your responsibilities. That does not mean myself, Cara, or Jess is your first call. Your classmates are your team and we’re the managers. Work together because teamwork is important when running a barn, but keep in mind that every time someone else in the class picks up your slack, five grade points is taken from your grade and added to theirs. Trust me, I pay close attention to this. Everyone starts at one hundred points. There are no tests or quizzes. You are graded solely on your knowledge and care for your horse. For example, if I come out to the barn in the afternoon and realize Mr. Henderson neglected to clean out Millie’s stall, I will deduct points accordingly. There is no reason to not get an A in this class, but trust me, I have failed students before. I hate doing it, so please don’t make me. Any questions?”
“Will we get to ride our horses whenever we want?” asked a spunky freshman with a pixie cut.
Looking down at my class list, I took a stab at remembering her name. “Becky Williams?”
She nodded.
“Well, Becky, there is a big rule when it comes to riding: I have to be here, and you have to ask permission. I love when you guys get to ride, so usually I will say yes. You have to tack your horse correctly, I have to inspect it, and your regular chores have to be completed. Any other questions?”
“What if we don’t get along with our horse?” Ella May inquired shyly. I could see her chewing on her lip as the other students laughed.
“That is actually a very good question. It hasn’t happened in the class yet, but if it does, we will address the issue on a case-by-case basis.” I tossed her a quick smile before moving the conversation along. “Do any of you know what to do when a horse throws a shoe?”
Every hand raised, which was impressive, to say the least.
“Miss Cameron,” I called out.
“Contact your farrier or veterinarian,” she answered enthusiastically.
“Very good, Miss Cameron, but you missed an important step that should come before that. Care to take a stab, Mr. Collins?”
The young man cleared his throat. “Check the horse’s hoof? Look for missing chunks of the hoof wall as well as nails that might still be there.”
“Awesome!” I praised. “We had that happen this morning to Hunter, my horse, while I was riding him. Hopefully the farrier will show up while you’re still here and we can do a little lesson on the importance of hoof care and why shoes are important. Now, I think it is finally time for each of you to meet your companions for this semester. Jessup is going to give you some carrots to help butter up your steed.”
I watched as each student went up to him and realized one of the young women was wearing flipflops.
First time for everything.
“Miss Nelson,” I yelled. “A word, please.”
The young girl with mousy features shyly approached me. “Yes, ma’am?”
“First, please don’t call me ma’am, and second, what the hell are you thinking?” I barked at her.
“I don’t think I understand your question.” She stood playing with her hair, refusing to make eye contact.
“Have you ever been around horses before?” I asked sharply.
She nodded shyly. “Not in a while, but I had a horse when I was a kid.”