I savagely ripped through its guts, pulling and clawing through its innards. The rotting corpse stench pained me. Disgusted, I threw the hay aside, frustrated that such a beauty on the outside could be rotten in the core.
I feed my horses the best hay I can find. The lush, green orchard grass is from Riley Peck in Leslie. I pay $10 for a 50-lb square bale.
Sometimes, though, I get a “heavy bale.”
Heavy bales are the kind I dread. When the farmer collects the grass from his field, sometimes it isn’t completely dry. When it packs into bale form, there’s nowhere for the moisture to go. Unfortunately, though it looks tasty and dry from the outside, the inside can be full of mold.
Yesterday I recieved an email from my best friend. She told me that she and another boarder found a “suspect” bale–one that had already been opened.
I groaned when I read the email.
The bale, when I opened it yesterday, seemed fine on the end flakes. It seemed a little heavy, sure, but not heavy enough to cause me worry.
I should have second-guessed myself. I should have ripped that bale apart.
Instead, I blithely filled hay nets in a few of the stalls; thinking of how exciting my evening would be. (Did I mention yesterday was my birthday? I had other things on my mind.)
Yesterday evening, when I recieved the email, I sat back in shock. I should have known. I should have KNOWN.
But I didn’t.
I make mistakes. Luckily, I have an amazing best friend and a phenomenal boarder who corrected yesterday’s error. I’m grateful other people here are on top of things. I try to catch it all–but nobody can do it alone.