Sure every one of you must rise on a cold winter day and take your showers, fuss with your hair, do your makeup and choose an ensemble that reflects your careers goals. Well. I am here to remind you of the whole other sort that gets up on a cold winter day. People with animals to care for, farms, boarding facilities, and stables. Now granted, my “farm” is pretty small, only three horses and two dogs. It’s laughable really to those with dog lots and no dog handlers, cows, chickens or boarding stables with thirty horses. None the less it does depend on your routine of morning animal care and how much time that consumes. Since I was raised by the best of the best in the animal care department my small farm regimen on a cold winter morning is nothing to scoff at.

I usually wake up between 5AM and 6:20AM it’s a pretty big difference from morning to morning but what I’ve learned is that it isn’t when I wake up, it’s the moment I crack and eyelid that things start moving and shaking around here. Did you know that a dog hear your eyelids open? I did not know such a thing until I became the primary care giver of my dogs. It’s astonishing really and I say this deeply serious… Ahem. The second my eyelids really open both dogs rush to the bedside in a flurry of fur and excitement. It’s no use laying there, they know that my mind has formed its first conscious thought of the day and that conscious thought = dog breakfast. So maybe I’m not giving my dogs enough credit here, they don’t hear the eyelid, they hear my thought! Wow.

Mornings when the mercury is a tad low, and I use the term “tad low” loosely considering this morning our cheap Walmart thermometer that was clearly made for somewhere like Florida and doesn’t go below -20 was sitting in the area I call “God Knows Where Below” because there just aren’t numbers on that space. Clearly we must research a thermometer made for idiots like us who live in the north where -20 has a lot more numbers that come after it with a little “-“.

I digress. What I meant to discuss here was layers. Have you ever seen the Christmas Story? Where Ralphie’s little brother has so many clothes on he cries and can’t run away from the bullies? His little brother just shuffles, whines and bobs like a penguin while the bullies chase them only to fall over in snow bank and lay there like a dead slug because his clothes hinder his movement. My morning ensemble is something akin Ralphie’s little brother. I start with the “base layer” and I could write a whole page on the importance of a base layer. Outdoorsy folk prefer something with fleece that wicks; I generally use whatever is on the top of the dirty laundry pile from the night before. It’s usually fleecy and already has hay on it. From there it’s a thermal, a hoody and this morning I even put on my husbands camouflage fleece. I’m pretty sure Victoria’s Secret never intended her cute pink sweatpants to have both hay on them and be worm with Cabella’s. Victoria Secret would just roll over in her silk nightie if she knew.

At this point I’d like to pause and ask any of you if you have ever had assistance while dressing in the morning? And no I’m not speaking of a maid or butler who hands you your freshly ironed shirt. I’m speaking of assistance from a four legged, wet nose puppy. This in particular is my Aussie Shepard puppy Ruger. Who manages to grow twelve legs and five mouths when I’m trying to get dressed in the morning. How he manages to get so wrapped up in my pants is a miracle that I’d need slow motion filming to figure out. It’s especially fun when your still half asleep which I usually am. I usually end up with mismatched socks because I’m trying to escape him assisting me in the sock department as well so I just grab and go.

The shuffle downstairs is accompanied by both dogs that usually roll down the stairs with excitement. I go to the kitchen for what’s left in the coffee pot that my husband didn’t gulp down earlier. If I got up at 5AM instead of 6AM I’d get my share so I won’t complain. I would like to mention that if a coffee pot came in a twenty cup size we'd certainly buy one. After a half a cup of coffee which is all I can find patience for because at this point the dogs sound a bit like Sumo wrestlers with claws in the living room and I’m afraid if they don’t out soon someone will have an accident of the excitement sort on my floor.

Now enters the other layer which is a fine art and changes with every morning’s weather. This morning since I could see breath when I poked my nose outside of the comforter I know that I need more than just the standard coat and hat. It’s everything I own and nothing less. Again dressing with the puppy who’s a great big help, usually halfway through my outer layer between the Carhart layer and the shoes both dogs get unceremoniously booted out the door. So I can have some peace and quiet and maybe finish that other half cup of chilled coffee. On the way out the door I go headlamp hunting. Did you know headlamps grow legs and hide? Mysterious creatures! Every few days our “herd of headlamps” dwindles as they migrate to who knows where south of the glove storage pole. I’ve learned in the winter to hide one headlamp in a coat pocket, it seems that if it doesn’t know its part of the herd it won’t wander off and stays put. I should pause and define headlamp to my out of state readers, but I’m not going to. Google it.

On mornings such as this I don’t bother with the trying to read our Florida thermometer, it’s no use, the little arrow is in “Heavens Knows Where” the reason I know this is because my first step out the door takes my breath away and my outer layer is already crinkling because it’s frozen before I even get to the bottom step. I do however have an entourage that is fit for a queen; dogs prancing, leaping, and running around me. It’s a very royal treatment provided nobody trips you and lands you cussing in the ice. I think in the dog world they get extra points for tripping you.

First stop is the shop, to feed dogs because quite frankly at this point I hate them both and once they are fed I can have some peace and quiet. I mix their afternoon food while they eat. Since it’s so cold, I mix horses a mid morning mash to be fed when it’s light out (this time of year that means 11:30’ish). The mid-morning mash is really just a cup of beet pulp and a cup of grain that’s mixed with hot water, electrolytes and handfuls of carrot pieces. It’s a warm treat because I feel bad for them when it’s this cold and the more water they get the better.

Next is the hay portion of my morning. We are not proprietors of a barn just yet so hay storage is on pallets covered with tarp. There is no tarp digging for me in the morning though, the night before a bale is drug out, snipped and ready for me. I’m pretty sure I’m speaking from a place of expertise here when I say digging under a tarp covered with snow “spelunking” for a hay bale and -25 is not a fun way to spend your morning. It usually gets you hay and snow in your pants and none of us like that much. My horses are the most polite of the creatures about morning feeding; they all shuffle up, sleepy eyed and sweet faces covered with frost. That is until the herd leader my 23 year old bites everyone and runs them off because he gets first dibs on morning affection. After that it can look like a stampede or if the other herd members stand their ground…. Let’s just say it’s scary….

By poop shoveling stage my hair is white from my breath, and my pinky fingers are aching with cold. Poop removal takes anywhere from 10 minutes to half an hour depending on just how lazy my horses were the night before. Once poop has been moved, hay gets brought in. This is where you can tell who has been to spanking boot camp and who has not. Carbon the oldest at 23 has not been to any such camp, he’s 23, I’ve owned him for nearly 18 years, and he is a product of everything I did not know when I got into horses in the behavior department. Whatever good behavior he has, which is considerable provided there is no food around, I did not teach him, he was born with it. I can’t figure out that he’s such a smart horse and still hasn’t learned the paddock fence opens in, meaning he should move when the gate shoves him in the chest. Alas – I work up a cussing, hay spitting sweat wrestling my way in every single morning trying to teach him that THE GATE OPENS TO THE INSIDE!

Once hay is spread out and I’m certain that everyone is up, accounted for and interested in food. Because if you’re a horse owner you know that if your horse doesn’t want breakfast call 9-1-1 especially if it’s this cold out. I check legs via headlamp, pick ice balls from feet if there are any, and fix blankets, which is my second wrestling match of the day. See if everyone had animals there would be no need for a gym workout. People always ask me when I’m at the gym (sitting in the steam room because I haven’t worked out in ages) where I got my shoulder and bicep definition. I tell them hay bales and poop. They don’t seem to like that too much, and I’m here to tell you. I come from a long line of poop movers and all of us have glorious definition in our arms and shoulders. Give it a try!

After a half an hour, I’m not sleepy anymore. I’m wide awake. Wired to be exact; I also can’t feel my hands. Horses are happy; I’m ready for a hot fire. Once I’m positive that everyone is as comfortable as they can possibly be at this temperature I go inside to microwave what’s left in the coffee pot. I capture my morning with sarcastic humor, because really I love it, it’s the best part of my day (almost). I’m proud to be part of the human race that is an animal caregiver and I would not trade it for the world. Or well. Ask me if I want to go outside at 5AM and see what I say, but once the chores are done, I am truly content and those of you out there reading this that are also caregivers I’d be willing to bet that not only do you have spectacular definition in your shoulders and biceps but you love your mornings too.