Strait View Farm

11/25/2021

I'll be in the barn.
When people have come to visit over the years they commonly hear from me I'll be in the barn.
When life gets hard I'll be in the barn.
When things are just right I'll be in the barn.
When the sun shines,
The rain falls,
Or snow covers the ground,
I'll be in the barn.
If things seem to be falling apart or if I'm celebrating the simple things, I'll be in the barn.
When I'm looking for answers or trying to clear my mind, I'll be in the barn.
When I'm looking for myself, I'll be in the barn.
If I'm working or trying to relax, I'll be in the barn.
Even when I'm not in the barn my mind drifts there, I find myself thinking about being in the barn.....
soaking feed for the next day,
mucking or spreading manure,
how to fix a problem I've been having with a horse,
tack that needs cleaned or changed or mended,
wounds that need doctored,
if I need to put on blankets or fly masks.
It's where I keep my riches.
All my wins and my failures.
Everyone of my hopes,
Dreams,
Hardships
And memories.
You can find them all in the barn, buried in the hay, hiding under a saddle, spilling out of the feed bins, or glimmering with dust in the evening light.
I may be covered in dust, dirt, a mash feed, hair, and hay, smell of sweat and manure, and sometimes there may be blood or tears but I'll be there. I'll be in the barn.
So if your wondering where to find me, I'll be in the barn. If I'm not there, I promise I'm on my way.
-Author Unknown-

07/07/2021

07/06/2021

Heifer calf for Fury just before 2pm July 5th.

06/29/2021

Bull calf for Lillybelle evening of June 25th and bull calf for Fern June 28th afternoon.

06/29/2021

Had to share this one 🤣

05/21/2021

Wayyyyyy cheaper 🤣

05/11/2021

04/25/2021

🎈 🎈It’s Ivy’s Birthday today !!! 🎈🎈One year old already. She measures 14hh at her withers, 14.2hh on her bum and weight tapes at 720 pounds. She’s a big beautiful girl with the sweetest personality. We love you sweet Ivy 💕

04/17/2021

Farm work doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t make you anything. It reveals you.

There’s gym strong and then there’s farm strong. They’re mutually exclusive.

The toughest women you’ll ever meet spend their days on a farm.

There are more uses for twine than you can possibly imagine. You can tie up a hole in a slow feeder, fashion a tail strap for a horse’s blanket, mend a broken fence, and use it as a belt.

“Well that certainly didn’t go as planned,” is one thing you’ll say quite a bit.

Control is a mere illusion. The thought that you have any, at any given time, is utterly false.

Sometimes sleep is a luxury. So are lunch and dinner. And brushing your hair.

If you’ve never felt your obliques contract, then you’ve never tried stopping an overly full wheelbarrow of horse manure from tipping over sideways. Trust me, you’ll find muscles that you never knew existed on the human skeleton to prevent this from happening.

When one of the animals is ill, you’ll go to heroic lengths to minimize their discomfort.

Their needs come first. In summer heat and coldest winter days. Clean water, clean bed, and plenty of feed. Before you have your first meal, they all eat.

When you lose one of them, even though you know that day is inevitable, you still feel sadness, angst and emotional pain from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And it’s a heaviness that lingers even though you must regroup and press on.

You’ll cry a lot. But you’ll never live more fully. You’ll remain present no matter what because you must. There is no other option.

You’ll ask for so many miracles and hold out hope until the very last.

You will, at least once, face-plant in the manure pile.

You’ll find yourself saying things like, “we have maybe twenty minutes of daylight left to git ‘er done” whilst gazing up at a nonspecific place in the sky.

You’ll become weirdly obsessive about the weather.

You’ll go out in public wearing filthy clothes and smelling of dirt, sweat and p**p. People will look at you sideways and krinkle their noses but you won’t care.

Your entire day can derail within ten seconds of the rising sun.
You can wash your coveralls. They won’t look any cleaner, but they will smell much nicer.

Farm work is difficult in its simplicity.

You’ll always notice just how beautiful sunrises and sunsets really are.

Should you ever have the opportunity to work on a farm, take the chance! You will never do anything more satisfying in your entire life.

Copied and pasted *** original author unknown

04/11/2021

Lilli and Mira have started their 4H showmanship practice.

04/01/2021

💕💕

03/30/2021

Seven is the number of years I serve my owner, trotting, walking, loping, quiet, and gentle. I carry her children, husband, friends, neighbors. I have plenty of hay, horse friends, and time to myself. Green pastures, blue skies, I am at peace.

Six is the number of months I carry on in pain after falling. I do it for her, anything for her. She is impatient with me. I try hard to keep up, but the pain slows me down. Every step hurts. No one wants to ride me, a new horse arrives to carry on in my place. I do not know this word: "useless."

Five is the number of hours I stand in the small pen at the auction. I hurt, I do not know these horses, I do not know these people. I'm far from my pasture. I search for comfort, switching weight off my painful leg, the people notice. I do not know this word: "lame."

Four is the number of times my value is calculated by my weight. I don't understand their words but I can read their eyes. Hard stares. I try to be invisible, but they see me. I do not know this word: "slaughter."

Three is the number of sniffs I take of your face through the pen before deciding you are kind and safe. I like your eyes, they are soft. I like your hands they are gentle. Please don't leave me here. I try to pick my feet up for you, it hurts. I try hard. I rest my muzzle in your hand.

Two is the number of minutes it takes for me to pass through another pen. I am scared, I am trapped, I am alone, people are shouting, it hurts to walk. A man is talking, his voice echo's all around me, there are so many people watching me, hard stares. Suddenly it's over.

One is the number of hours it takes before I walk onto a trailer. I am alone, I am scared, it is moving. The door opens, I hold my breath and brace at the light. It's you!! I stand still and breathe slow. Kind hands, soft words, I'm not afraid now.

Two is the number of xrays the vet takes while I stand quietly for you, anything for you. Many days have passed. I have energy now, my pain is less. I like my new pasture, I like my new stall, I like my new hay. I don't know why we have a vet but I stand still for his visits. So many visits. I do not know this word: "rehabilitation."

Three is the number of months before the pain is all the way gone. I am relaxed with you, we start to ride together. I'm afraid the pain will come back, but you are gentle, so I try. I try hard for you, anything for you.

Four is the number of weeks I learn a new way of riding. Another person rides me every day. I'm becoming strong, I understand my lessons, I am proud to work, I feel you are happy with me, visiting me and learning together. I do not know this word: "training."

Five is the number of years I work hard for you. We travel to shows, we work cows, we ride with friends. We do hundreds and hundreds of miles together. You trust me and I trust you, I give you everything I have, everything for you, anything for you. I memorize your rhythm, your looks, your moods. I know when to be wild and when to be still. We are a team.

Six is the number of minutes I try to hide the pain after a fall, but you see through me. I stand for the vet, still as a stone. The pain leaves but I sense your sadness. I remember a word from before when I had pain, "useless", but you never say that word. You no longer ride me but I see you every day, for carrots and treats and long walks. I relax again, you will not abandon me. This is a new way of being together. I do not know this word: "retired."

Seven is the number of breaths I take in your arms. It has been many years, we have grown old and wise and slow together. I lay down like so many times before but could not rise. You came right away. I tried for you, but I could not stand. You say its ok, sink down next to me. I breathe slow. You are very close, holding my head, weeping, I feel your sadness so I put my muzzle in your hand one last time to comfort you, anything for you. I breathe out. Green pastures, blue skies, I am at peace. I know this word: "loved."

**Shared from a friend's page...author unknown to me**

03/30/2021

Equine gastric ulcers are extremely common, especially in performance horses. But ulcers can also occur in the horse's hindgut and have negative consequences for digestive health. Hindgut ulcers are also known as colonic ulcers. Veterinarians often refer to the condition as Right Dorsal Colitis (

03/29/2021

03/20/2021

☀️ Everyone’s a little wild after 24+ hours stuck in the barn ☀️

03/19/2021

Got a new present for myself !! Finally found a low profile that doesn’t look like a bucket on my XL head.

03/16/2021

Mad Barn - Day #2

I added beet pulp to everyone’s meal today. Success!! Chance and Abby still refused
but everyone else happily gobbled it all up. I’m calling that a win. Tomorrow I’ll take the Visceral away from Chance to see if he’s happy with just the Omneity. (I was told some horses don’t like the Visceral).

Just to add...none of my horses have been diagnosed with ulcers. I’ve been noticing some behavioural differences in a few of them and after reading about some of the symptoms of ulcers and researching the Visceral product benefits I decided to try it for 2 months (as suggested by MadBarn). How great would it be if the minor behavioural issues could be attributed to pain and solved with a supplement?! I’ll keep sharing updates for those who are interested.

Feel free to use the following coupon code if you’d like to try any of the MadBarn products.

5%-OFF-FROM-GEORDA