Assiter Punkin Ranch is a real Pumpkin Farm offering Retail, Wholesale and Tours.
03/22/2025
Reminds me of a farmers or cowboy life.
There is an old pony in a big pen by the barn. He has no real purpose. No kids ride him, he is not a companion to another old horse.
We have no history together. He came into my life by happenstance. There are no fond, warm fuzzy memories. I owe him nothing. But he’s polite and kind, and nickers to me as I come out the door in the morning.
He eats a princely sum of special food, and has a premium round bale of irrigated grass that the other horses can only dream of. His water is fresh, and warmed in the winter. I’ve gone out there late at night to make sure he has food, and he’s the first thing I attend to after morning coffee.
Why? Why not send him to the sale where ‘someone’ will want him? At 40 cents a pound, he’d be worth a nice steak dinner and drinks in town. They’ll load him on a truck with 30 other old ponies and horses, and somewhere down that line, if he doesn’t fall from his bad knee and get trampled in the transport, he will become dog food.
There’s a bum calf in our scale house on this cold frosty night. He’s little and scrawny, with p**p stuck to his butt, and a bit of a runny nose. There’s a heater in there keeping the temp above freezing. In the morning I’ll make him a bottle of warm milk replacer and try to convince him to eat some of the pony’s special food. Bob will clean his little house and put down fresh bedding. It would be easier to have left him in the field with the 500 bigger, stronger calves, to steal milk from the occasional tolerant cow, to eventually freeze to death and feed the coyotes that lurk about the herd for just such an opportunity.
There is a wild kitten in the barn who most likely jumped off a utility truck a while back. We’ve been leaving food just for him, and making sure the heated water bowl is full, so he doesn’t have to go outside and perch precariously on the horse waterer to drink.
I guess we sound like saps, the old cowboy and I. Sort of wimpy and un-ranch like.
I guess we are. But at our age, with certain infirmities starting to creep into our daily routines, and the realization that we are not perfect, we are thinking that kindness is a virtue and care is our purpose.
Care of not just the healthy robust animals that make money and pay the bills, but care of everything we are capable of caring for - those creatures that, like us, are in need of a bit more attention to get through the day.
We didn’t go about seeking these creatures- they came to us and landed here not of their own choosing, or ours. But here they are, and off I go to town to a business that provides enough to buy the expensive milk replacer, premium hay, and special pony food.
There may be some karma in all this, or maybe not, but in the end we’ll know we did the best we could for those that needed us.
Peace. Really, I mean it.
