May 7 or 8, 2015. Morgen itches–her neck, her rump, her spine, her udder. I’ve seen her poke her head through a fence in the middle of the paddock, when…
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Sometimes I wish times were simpler, where we could leave our doors unlocked, unafraid someone would break in and rob us. But times are not that simple, and maybe never…
My perceptions are tinctured with fear, so let me tell you a story about a horse that scared me. Morgen arrived between snowstorms that were so bad I didn’t…
“I was carrying Number Seven to the chicken shed when Bruce said, ‘You might want to let her stay in the barn. They’ll kill her if you put her with…