A stall is born.

(I have been waiting so long to make that joke. I do so love a good pun.)

When we left to pick up Sergeant Major Friday morning, we were far from ready. The fence was not only unfinished in the sense that it required more work to contain chickens, turkeys and goats, it unfinished in the sense that it needed work to contain Great Danes, children and…horses.

And the stall remained unfinished, lacking hardware, bedding and window bars. The Man lugged and assembled the horse mats in the stall before we left at 9am. He had four in there before I helped him with the last one, and helping him with that one just about damn near killed me. He is a marvel.

We left, horse trailer in tow, believing in good faith that JJ would show to complete the stall before our return. This was vitally important, as we were going to need to stall Sergeant while The Man finished the fencing.

Home again, we pulled into the driveway to see JJ hard at work, and Sergeant backed out of the trailer, into his forever home (which, for a 5-year old horse, is saying quite a bit).

The finished stall, closed, looks like this:

photo 3

She is nice, yes? In the background, you can see that JJ crafted conduit to make bars for the window. It’s great to have windows in a stall (it cuts down on stall boredom, which can lead to undesirable behaviours), but it’s important to protect the horse from his own nature. Come summer, we will also be able to leave this window open for ventilation. The other stall will have two windows.

The stall has a water bucket in the corner left of the window:

photo 4

And a hay rack to the right of the window:

photo 1

The hand prints made in silver paint were left there by the children of former owners. There was a family with seven children living here in the 70s; maybe the hand prints are theirs. In any event, we will not be covering over them, as we love that we live in a house with a long history of families.

So, Sergeant is home, and now…the real adventure begins.

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