Fear and the R-Word

My Mom was terrified of mice and rats.  Her next door best friend, Joyce, was just as terrified of snakes.  They had a deal.  My Mom took care of Joyce's snakes and Joyce dealt with my Mom's mice.  The agreement worked well for both of them for many years.

So guess what fear I inherited?  Yup, my fear of mice/rats is famous.  My story of fear is well told by my friends, who woke up at my parent's cabin on a 'girl's weekend', to find my bed empty, my car and clothes gone.  They had no idea what had happened to me.

I'd been laying there WIDE awake watching the mice 'rule' the cabin while my friends all slept soundly.  At 4AM, I'd had it.  I got up, packed my bags and headed home on a 2 hour drive.  I just couldn't deal with the mice running around the cabin floors, across the furniture, etc.  It was like they owned the place!  My pals never heard a thing.

Doesn't quite fit in with horses does it?

In our previous barn, the hay for our horses was up in a loft.  There were around 20 ladder rings to reach the loft.  Every time I went up the ladder, I'd take my metal rake and swing it with all my might against the ladder before I started the climb.

My message was, "I'm coming up, get out of my way"!  The rats and mice understood my message.  In all the years I climbed up to and worked around the loft, I never encountered a single...ugh.....hate this word....."R-o-d-e-n-t....."

The rats (huge Warf rats), mice (big fat ones) and I (5'3") had an "agreement". When I was up in the loft they kept out of my way.  But I still faced the fear of running into one and was always tentative on my climb up.  So much so that I named the last ring on the ladder "Commitment". 

Once I stepped off Commitment I slid on my stomach onto the loft floor and then stood up.  Leaving quickly wasn't an option, what happened after I left Commitment was something I had to deal with.  I had to face it, I couldn't quickly retrace my steps.

When there were 4-tons of hay up in the loft, there wasn't any room for doubt when you stepped off of Commitment.  I had less than a foot to negotiate getting on the loft.  With my face pressed up against bales of sweet smelling hay, I'd struggle for room to get my legs under me and stand up.  I was in a vulnerable position and dreaded I'd come face-to-face with some "R-Word's" visiting, uneducated, kin.  Thankfully, they did a great job of educating their family and friends.

I pitied the poor kids who fed for us when we were out of town.  The "R-Words" didn't get the iron rake warning.  They didn't know someone was coming up the ladder until they met them face to face as the poor kid climbed off of Commitment.  The screams of terror were heard across the fields.
Today our hay resides in one of our stalls as we don't have a loft.  I miss turning the barn radio up full blast, climbing up and leaving Commitment to play "Rock Star", using my pitch fork as an air guitar and facing the flood light shining in my face from across the other side of the barn.  Gotta tell you, it was a real thrill to be the Star of your own loft!

My husband and I, both professionals faced times of incredible stress while we climbed our career ladders.  I'd be up in the loft sitting on a bale of hay, and my husband would be down below.  On evenings after a rough day at work, we'd talk for hours about our days, how we'd endured, what we'd do better tomorrow, how we'd deal with conflicts.  We'd cleanse our souls, mend our minds and repair our hearts.  I'd climb down and we'd walk home, arm in arm to dinner, refreshed and better for our "barn time".

I miss seeing the horse's backs from the loft, coming into the mangers below, to get the hay I'd just slid down into their feeders.  I used to like watching them from up there, wondering what they'd think if I jumped down onto their backs (probably wouldn't care for it too much).  I loved hearing them munch and snort as they rummage around to get the best parts of their feed first.

Yes, those "R-words" are here at my present barn.  But they don't seem to be as smart as the one's at my old barn.  I seem to run into them more often, although I'm a seasoned barn person now and I don't (usually) scream (very) often. 

I love our 5-stall barn, the loafing sheds and pastures through the doors on the various sides, the heated tack room, etc.  But I'll always miss Commitment, having a loft, being my own rock star, and ...ugh, I must admit, my relationship with the "R-Words" that lived up there.