Hay

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  • Horse Abuse: A Short Story

    “Okay, well, all I’m saying is that you should maybe at least give them some decent hay every day,” I said matching his matter-of-fact tone. “Maybe I just might,” he replied. The next day, I went to a horse festival, and a guy with a name tag that said Dragon Horse Farms: Matthew. He was very forcefully promoting anti-horse abuse, and then I saw Todd with him, holding a sign up that said NO MORE HORSE ABUSE. I pulled him aside and imitating his 20-year-old-guy voice, I said “Oh you all know that horse abuse is bad and you shouldn’t do it. But wait, I’m going to go and help run a horse abuse farm!” At that, he looked very ashamed but made no effort to stop his boss. About a week later, I rode Epona past Todd’s farm, and saw once again that the horses were no better than before. Because of this, I decided to take more action…

    Words: 1433 - Pages: 6
  • Inequative Essay: My Mother's Life In The Summer

    He would know what to say to make the days go by easier when I did not feel like working, especially on the days when we would have to square bale hay. Which is one of the most excruciating jobs I ever did on the farm. Baling hay would require an immense amount of back and arm strength. The hay would find its way into every little crevice possible. But our relationship really blossomed the last summer I worked with him. When the day of one summer came to an end, he told me to follow him into his…

    Words: 1021 - Pages: 5
  • Why Smell Is Important To Me Essay

    I would often nap on the back of my horse while he ate hay, my face buried in his mane. I learned to ride before I could crawl. I sat in the saddle in front of my mom, until eventually, I learned to sit up for myself. It was not too long after my sixth birthday that I boldly announced that I was going to ride on my own. Of course, my overconfidence led to the inevitable event of falling off for the first time. I quickly learned that the phrase “get back up on the horse” holds much meaning. The…

    Words: 773 - Pages: 4
  • Personal Narrative-Deer Hunting

    Most of my hunting opportunities were taken up by sports, FFA contests, and my dad taking my little brother hunting. That evening my dad asked me if I wanted to go with him feeding cows in chance of seeing a deer in one of fields as we drove through the farm, like we had many times before over the years. As I got in the hay truck I had an overwhelming bad feeling, but pushed it aside to focus on spending time with my dad. Not listening to my gut was my first mistake. “It’s kinda windy out, we…

    Words: 1528 - Pages: 7
  • My Uncle Leroy Analysis

    They helped me to my feet and looked at me. There were fresh and free flowing tears that kept welling up in my eyes. That hit marked the end of the game. The one thing that I dreaded more than brain damage or death anything else was the taunting that I would take from my Uncle. As we neared the house, I asked someone for a baseball cap. I think the swelling went down to a smaller knob faster than I expected. We still had time to waste, so we headed inside the barn. We jumped off many…

    Words: 1472 - Pages: 6
  • Descriptive Essay On Barn

    sliding doors stand open wide; never in my life have I seen these doors shut. I take a few steps and dust is kicked up into the air and left there, floating and glittering in the sunlight. Cobwebs cling to the hanging boards along the ceiling. Usually it is my job to knock them down with a broomstick, but I am always left with a haunting feeling that I am covered in the sticky silk and infested with the creatures that call it their home, so there they will stay. On these boards is an old…

    Words: 1187 - Pages: 5
  • The Great Fire Analysis

    eight-thirty, but he, too, left when he heard the family was in bed. Fifteen minutes later, Sullivan decided to go home. As the driver of a wagon, he would need every ounce of strength come morning. It was while pushing himself up that Sullivan first saw the fire—a single tongue of flame shooting out the side of the O’Leary’s barn Sullivan didn’t hesitate a second. “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!” he shouted as loud as he could. Running clumsily across the dirt street, Sullivan made his way directly to the…

    Words: 891 - Pages: 4
  • Personal Narrative: Dad, I Hate That Field Below The Shop

    The boot was recovered -- the mitten was not. I hated that field. But soon enough, spring melted those large piles of manure, and it would get stuck on my muck boots with straw and hay making it hard to walk. The cows just after having their babies were waspy and intolerant to a little girl’s desire to play with the wobbly legged babies. ‘So rude,’ I would think, as I sprinted to the 4-wheeler to dodge the protective mama from booting me in the britches. I hated that…

    Words: 940 - Pages: 4
  • Essay On Personal Narrative: My Hero's Journey

    Of course Nevaeh started bucking. Katy reacted a different way than I did when she started bucking. She just whipped her even harder until she was done bucking. After awhile Katy walked over on top of Nevaeh. She swung her leg over the saddle and got off the disobedient horse. Katy smiled a smirk and said, “I could probably break this horse but, when I send her off she’ll probs start buckin’ again.” My face got red for a second. I was embarrassed that Nevaeh was a bad horse but, I also hated the…

    Words: 1324 - Pages: 6
  • Lennie Monologue

    Lennie entered the barn to play with the puppy that was going to be his to tend. The barn full of hay, hay in every place of the barn. The sun coming in from the windows. You could see the dust from the sun light. It was quiet but you could hear the noises that puppies make when they want to be fed. Lennie loved soft things and those puppies were soft. Lennie was a nice guy, if he hurt anything it sure was an accident. Lennie also didn't know his own strength. He was a big guy but a little…

    Words: 1105 - Pages: 5
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