The Meadow

Charlie felt a tap on his shoulder. “Wake up, Charlie, it’s time to do your chores,” his mom said. Charlie groaned. The Russells were early risers, up before the chickens even, and each day started around 5 a.m. Charlie hated doing the chores, especially if it was cold out. It was October, and autumn had settled in the West Virginia mountains, which meant it would be cold early in the day. Charlie always noticed it was a few degrees colder in the mountains on the family farm than in it was in town, even though it was only 15 miles away. “Okay, mom, I’m up,” Charlie said, and he pulled himself from under his conglomeration of covers. Charlie didn’t know why, but his mom always got him up first, then she woke his siblings. Maybe it was because he was the oldest; he wasn’t sure. She also went by age, going down the narrow hallway to awaken Patty, then John, and lastly Rose. Charlie was proud to be the oldest child, but sometimes he resented it, because he thought his parents expected more from him than the others. But that’s the way it was; there really was nothing he could do about it. The Russells were hard workers. Before school each day, the four children were responsible for feeding the goats, chickens, and horses, and helping to set the kitchen table for breakfast, which Alice Russell, the mother of the brood, prepared. At least they didn’t have to milk the cows anymore, since the family had sold their last two heifers the year before. After breakfast, the four children cleaned themselves, brushed their teeth, and changed into their school clothes, before waiting by the gravel road for the school bus. The children rotated their pre-school chores, and everyone was expected to do his fair share, even little Rose, who was only five. The horses were fed hay and carrots, which were brought into their stalls. Next the goats were tended to, then the chickens, as they clucked and cackled about. Charlie loved all the animals, and so did his dogs. With two horses, two dogs, five goats, two cats and countless chickens, Charlie often thought his house was something of a Noah’s Ark. Martha was so calm and serene; she probably would have been relaxed among a herd of elephants. She frequently went to the goat’s pen fence, and gently nuzzled the goats from the outside of the circle, one at a time. After spending some time with the goats, Martha would amble over to the horse stalls inside the barn. Martha liked old Buck, the 20 year old gelding, but she adored Sue, the younger mare. Sue was eight or nine years old. The horses reciprocated Martha’s adoration. Buck’s coat was a deep brown, and he could be temperamental when the mood struck. Every family member knew to always approach Buck from the front, and to speak softly before approaching him. He had once kicked a neighbor from behind, and just had just missed kicking him in the head. But Martha was Buck’s favorite animal, and more than once Charlie found Martha asleep in Buck’s stall. Charlie held the opinion that Martha the Lab calmed old Buck’s nerves a little. As ornery as Buck could be, the family loved him. He was a part of the group! The mare Sue was the antitheses of Buck. She was a beautiful gray, and substantially smaller than Buck. When the children went for a horse ride, they rode Sue, not Buck, since Sue was smaller and more loving. Martha liked all the animals at The Meadow, but Sue was her favorite. Charlie noticed if the two horses were ridden together, Martha always walked beside Sue, not Buck. Martha spent some time with Buck, but much more time with Sue. If Martha wasn’t in the house, she was probably in the horse stalls, moving from one to another. Charlie thought the sight of Martha with her horses was just about the cutest thing he’d ever seen. For George the giant yellow Lab, every morning on the farm was like Christmas. He charged at the chickens to his heart’s delight, moving from one bird to another, the poor, dumb chickens flapping their wings rapidly, sprinting as fast as their little legs would take them, and jumping as high as they could to avoid their gigantic tormentor. The children delighted in seeing the daily morning show George gave them, although they sometimes felt a little sorry for the chickens. Charlie thought it must have seemed to the dimwitted birds like a tyrannosaurus rex was invading their territory. As soon as the chores were done, the children, followed by the dogs, would go into the kitchen for breakfast, which they knew Alice would have waiting for them. Before he sat down to eat, Charlie would feed the pups, and the cats, Theresa and Eunice. Watching George eat was akin to looking at a pack of lions devouring a wildebeest. George was so enthusiastic about eating that Charlie had to separate the bowls for the dogs. Martha was a patient eater, nibbling her food and gently and slowly chewing her meal. George ate so quickly and with such force, his metal bowl clanged against the walls. After he tended to the dogs, Charlie went to feed the cats. His siblings sometimes helped take care of the animals, but mostly it was just Charlie tending to his special friends. And he didn’t mind the responsibility of being the animal’s helper; he was glad to do it. Charlie was so happy to have his pets in his life.