sounds of summer

This morning when I went out to the barn I realized we've gone full-blown into summer routine and its unique chorus of sounds. First out the gate is Rafer Johnson's bray, which is a combination of "good morning" and "I'm ready for my breakfast!"

In the barn, the new nest of swallow babies chirp madly because they too want breakfast. Fortunately someone else is in charge of that, and her flapping wings are, for now, the next note in the unfolding barn song.

On these warm summer mornings I turn on the fans, and once I flip the switch, the barn fills with the low rush of air blowing. We have three big industrial fans, which are hung up high so they create air flow without blowing directly into horses' faces. The effect is nice, and it keeps the barn comfortable. The sound ends up being much like that of ocean surf - it takes on a constant, background quality that can be quite soothing and hypnotic.

Once I get into the feed room, Keil Bay's melodic voice is the next bit of music to my ears. He has a very special whinny that conveys his eagerness for breakfast and love of all things "food."

Like Keil Bay, I love the little sounds of black oil sunflower seeds being scooped, the shhhh sound as I pour in the supplements, and the snap snap of carrots being divided up between feed tubs. The apples make a satisfying thump.

Depending on how slowly I'm moving, there may be a loud BANG when Keil Bay uses his knee on the stall door to hurry me along.

Even with the fans going, the crunching sounds of four horses and a miniature donkey eating their breakfasts are clearly heard, often in sync. Salina does a brief trumpet call if she finishes before I close everything up in the feed room, signaling that she's ready for Rafer Johnson to return to her side.

After breakfast there is munching of hay and mucking of stalls. The mucking is a relaxing WHUMP sound that becomes more and more muted as the wheelbarrow piles up. By the end it becomes silent. Walking the wheelbarrow down the hill, birds sing and insects buzz, although in the growing heat of midday, things can get very quiet out in the open.

It always amazes me as I walk back up the hill when the blowing of one or more of the horses carries so that it seems they're right beside me.

In no particular order, the morning chorale continues with water from the hose falling into buckets and tanks, the brushing of coats and velcro'ing of fly masks, and the soft whoosh of herbal fly spray being applied. The barn doors on the sunny side of the barn rumble closed, and the metallic clank of the backyard gate latch signals the end of our morning song.