The snow has been falling all day today. It has been a perfect day to stay inside and prepare as Christmas exactly 22 days away. Fortunately for me, the kids had the day off of school so I slept in until this morning. A real treat compared to the wake up of most every other day of the week. I luxuriated over a cup of coffee and welcomed the house awake.
Eventually I made my way down to the barn. As I stepped out of the front door of the house, I felt eyes upon me. Four horses staring at me. “Is she finally coming down?” I thought I heard Charlie say. Then Doc whinnied at me as if to echo the question I had sensed in Charlie’s expression. “Yes Doc, its breakfast time.” I called. “Oh, thank God! I’m starving to death!” Cheval murmured under his breath. “Doesn’t she see that the grass is gone?” “Don’t worry Cheval, I didn’t forget you!” I said as I walked to the fence with a basket of apples.
The horses, being about 20 yards away from the fence, were unsure if they should walk to me at the fence or if they should head the other way into the barn where brunch was sure to be served. I saw Belle, our miniature horse and only female of our herd look up from scrounging for green morsels in the snow. “Belle, will you please show these boys what to do?” I asked. Without hesitation she stepped in my direction. As she approached me her pace quickened, having eyed the apple in my hand extending in her direction. “Good girl Belle!” I praised her. Having reached the apple, she mouthed it momentarily before she bit the daintiest of bites. Her eyes, lit up, as if to say, “Ahhhh, fresh!!” Her paced quickened as she knew that once the boys figured out I was bearing food, that she would be pushed aside. Her petite frame and rank in the herd left her no chance of challenging their advances.
Seeing her eating, the boys finally stepped forward, as if she were the king’s food taster and had just given the “all clear” call to the court. Charlie came up first, too slow to actually get a bite as Doc advanced hot on his trail. After Doc, Cheval graced me with his presence and allowed me the pleasure of serving him. Apples were ingested and we moved in the direction of the grand feast in the barn.
By this time in the morning, the barn has been awake for hours. The Chicken’s spend the night literally “cooped up” so they are always clamoring for the door to get out. During the day, they are allowed to go where ever they want to in the barn and pasture, even up to the house on rare occasions. But at night, our fear of coyote keeps them penned up. As I opened the barn’s entry, I heard the rooster, Chanticleer bellow his “cock a doodle do” a warning to all in the barn that some one had arrived.
Entering the main section of the barn, I saw 3 sleepy faces greet me down the way. The three youngest of the barn cats were still stealing sleep, probably having stayed up too late as I had. “Morning kitties!” I said as I turned on the lights. They yawned and stretched up from their heated bed. The bed, which I am convinced is now folklore amongst the other neighborhood felines, has brought many a belly laugh from locals who think I’m crazy to feed my barn cats, let alone provide a heat lamp and heated bed for their sole use. Don’t even ask me what they think of the fact that I take my barn cats to the vet!
Having progressed to feeding the cats some wet food (I know, I know, who feeds barn cats wet food??) I moved over to let out the hens, and finally ready the horses feed. As I opened the door to the coop, hens poured out running with loud utterances, expressing their individual need to be first out in order to lay first in their favorite spots. I waded across the sea of hens to secure the door and found two remained behind in the coop. One had already secured her most envied nesting box and the other looked on with a pained expression. Never mind that there were 3 other open nests right in front of her, apparently chickens, like women, are very particular about their labor and delivery needs.
Moving on I fed the horses and bunnies, collected two eggs and replenished water buckets. I decided to head back up to the house. I turned off the lights, wished everyone a good day, climbed the stairs and shut the door.
Back outside, the snow was now falling and big light flakes twirled to the ground. I paused and looked back at the barn. The horses munching on their hay outside were the only animals in view.
It is usually at this point, in my twice daily journey to and from the barn, that I wonder what happens in there when I’m not around. Do the kittens get on with catching mice? Does our Miniature horse Belle explain to Agnes (the aged and probably senile hen) “just one more time” why she has to stay in her stall and eat only grass hay, while the other horses are out in the pasture eating alfalfa hay?
I imagine Cinabunbun, the lion faced rabbit, express her desires for the grey Aracauna hen to please lay her egg somewhere other than in Cinabunbun’s burrow. Or does Cinabunbun actually like the company in her pen? Do the Chickens dare each other to walk out into the deep snow, or see who can stand on the ice the longest before their toes freeze? Do they all like the classical music selections I play, or is Earl, the big grey male rabbit, “just dying for a little Def Leppard?”
Who knows? Isn’t it true, that no one really knows what goes on behind closed doors except for those closed in behind them? I might be dead on about the happenings in my barn or painfully off course. Do I assume too many human traits occur with my animals? The farmer down the road from me might think so. But that is my perspective. I can’t escape it. It is what I see from my vantage point processed through my thoughts and analyzed by a database of my experiences. It is nothing more, nothing less.
Why does this matter? With out intent my perspective can make me hurt others. It can help me rush to judgment. I know I do this all the time. It is a hard habit to break. But it is an important wall we each must work to tear down if we truly seek to reach our full potential as human beings.
So, the next time you think you have a situation behind your closed barn door, all figured out, think again. Take time to open the door and interact with the players in the scene that you find there. Seek to understand rather than to rush to give advice. Acknowledge that we are all fallible and let humility be your guide as you enter the barn. And when you mess up, which you will, you should take the advice of my friend Glenn and be “convicted, not condemned” by your mistake. Make a change, not a federal case.
I guarantee that this approach will keep you from having to save face as often, it will help you to have closer relationships, and it will give you the opportunity to be appreciated. But most importantly, when you allow others to SHOW you what is behind their door and you diligently work to leave your perspective AT the door, you can be the different light in the world that leaves a positive and lasting impact on others.
Remember to always leave others better than when you found them!
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