Week Three: The Horse Farm
At Lofthusgård Horse farm
This morning I awoke to a very satisfying coat of fresh snow blanketed across the farm, and realized I might be in love. In love with the cold and snow of a real winter.
Today I learned that cows in Norway have a summer holiday: by law they are required to spend a minimum of 8 weeks outside enjoying grassy knolls. Inspiring Norway.
In the same conversation I also learned that it is illegal in Norway to trim or cut the whiskers of a horse. Yes, horses do indeed have whiskers, like cats and dogs, though the placement of horse whiskers make their importance more apparent. Gathered around their muzzle, with which horses often explore their environments, these whiskers gather and report sensory information. To cut them, as is done in other countries, would be cruel I think.
I have been walking in the woods most days with my gal pal Molly (the dog). But for the first time today I heard sounds of rushing water I had not noticed before. Constant sunshine during the last three days had begun melting the deposit of snow that preceded my arrival to Norway. The melting snow must have begun to awaken the river and its many branches running down to the farm. As I walked along the sound grew, suggesting a waterfall lay somewhere in the valley below me. I had to find it.
Leaving the path, it was a steep climb down to the river. Thick snow still concealed most of the river and the boulders along its banks, creating a path of moguls. Small gaps in the snow and ice revealed a hidden river rushing quite quickly by. Rushing with a spring in its step.
To the river’s credit, much of the last week had felt like spring. March does like to tease us with warmth and sunshine before often revealing itself to still be winter. The sound of the river rushing under the snow was something I had never heard before. It sounded almost like the rumbling of a subway, or a very distant galloping herd of horses.
The sun was starting to set and I needed to get back to the farm in time for evening chores. Molly and I followed the river through its small valley, back to the farm. We would find the waterfall tomorrow.
And we did.
The next day was another beauty, so after morning chores, breakfast, and a second breakfast of waffles and coffee (a new habit we had all been indulging in) Molly and I headed up stream. Just an hour or so up the river we found the waterfall. It was surprisingly mighty.
There were a series of falls actually. The first one was the largest with a beautiful pool below its falling waters. Though tempted even now, this would be the perfect summer spot with a book and packed lunch. Several falls farther up the river remained frozen. In beautiful hues of glacial blues and subtle icy greens, they glistened in the sunlight.
I had to touch them.
We went to a large riding school near Oslo today (the barn below) to pick up a new pony. Originally from Lithuania she is a sweet looking pony with nice energy, but apparently has some issues. Annicken (owner of the farm I am working on) has decided to give her a go, but unfortunately if she doesn’t work out, this is her last chance.
The pony is free, but the deal is that if she doesn’t work in Annicken’s school then she will pay to put her down.
The fact of putting animals down is an interesting ethical, moral question, but not one faced, contemplated or considered by city folk. However, it has come up several times during my time at the farm.
There are two young horses on the farm that are lame. One is lame in a front leg and the other broke its back as a wild foal. They will never be ridden and thus, do not contribute economically to the farm. It’s sad to call them an economical loss as they are much more than that. They are beings that live and clearly enjoy life - especially when they get loose and gallop around the farm together. We three have warmed nicely to each other and I have had very tender moments with both horses.
Just this morning Lilliegul come up to me and placed her cheek to mine. We stayed cheek to cheek for some time, and it was quite emotional. I have seen these horses do this with each other and it felt like a true initiation into their herd. Their sweetness makes the idea of their inevitable fate even more challenging. What is the kind, compassionate thing to do? I am happy that I do not have to make that call, and greatly respect the one who does.
Then there is the old man, the stallion. At 25 years old, an age we share, I’ve been told he has only one year left of breeding in his hips. Then beloved as he is, he will likely be put down. What do you do with an old horse?
Sadly, being put down is inevitable for these three horses. But perhaps there is solace in what happens postmortem. Not condemned to the sticky and sickening end of a glue factory, but donated to a local world sanctuary through which they can be laid to rest in the circle of life.
I went on a run for the first time in a month and I felt surprisingly good. Surprisingly light despite many, many waffles. The first 4k was a steady incline up to a camp ground perched atop a neighboring hill. At the top I soaked in the views before coasting down the hill. I probably should have run more while here, but hiking in the woods with the snow shoes always won over.
After an epic three weeks and a few days here, I am leaving tomorrow.
I have loved the routine of farm life, grown quite fond of these horses, and found a very comfortable spot among the family hosting me. In this trade of work for room and board, I feel have I have received much more than I have given.
Having enjoyed my experience with Work Away, I am heading to another position on the Island of Manshausen: a private island owned by one of the foremost Arctic explorers, Børge Ousland. Should be cool.