Friday, January 29, 2010
Double Life
Monday, January 25, 2010
Sensitivity
Only in America
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Job Jumping
Bouncing Baby Boy
Monday, January 11, 2010
Desk Work
All Darley, All Over the World
Night Shift
With names like Mr. Prospector, Storm Cat, A.P. Indy, Dixieland Band and Seattle Slew stamped across the stall doors, walking the aisle of mare barn 6 (the foaling barn) at Lane’s End feels more like walking on egg shells than concrete. This weekend I worked two night shifts in the foaling barn, which translates into 28 hours with 28 regally bred mares and their unborn foals. Some of these mares include the half sisters to Fusaichi Pegasus and Mineshaft, a full sister to A.P. Indy, and numerous grade one winners and producers. And this is just the first lot to foal. I’ve learned quickly that things work quite differently on a large farm than a small farm. I will not have as much opportunity to develop bonds with the mares or their foals, but at the same time 130 plus foalings in a year leaves room for invaluable learning experiences. The next three months for me will have a focus on gaining experience foaling and sharpening my skills in that area.
*Note to “farm designer people”: if you’re going to have 3000 acres of land, at least make some of the barns look different, or put up inner-farm road signs so that one does not get brutally lost and have to call for help every time they wish to get to or from their barn.
Thank you and best regards,
Newbie with no sense of direction.
(Note: I managed to find the appropriate exit without getting brutally lost after my Saturday night shift. I was incredibly proud of myself.)
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Places to Go, Horses to Meet
Snow Day
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Road
Driving into Versailles, Kentucky is like driving into my own personal paradise. Although I must admit, my perceptions could have been skewed by the 10 hours I spent in the car yesterday. I departed Brantford, Ontario, Canada shortly before 7 am on Tuesday. After ducking into the nearest Timmies to grab my final double-double for the next few months, I trekked on towards Windsor. With the help of many radio stations and even more windshield washer fluid, I arrived at the border shortly before 11. This was the most eventful part of my trip, as the immigration office was apparently designed to act more like an interrogation room. I got through smoothly, but not before seeing others get rudely interrogated, and one especially angry customs officer violently crumple a man’s papers and throw them on the floor. Boy, was I glad I didn’t end up in her line!
For photos, click here