The Realities of Winter Horse Keeping: When “Must Be Nice” Freezes Over

The Realities of Winter Horse Keeping: When “Must Be Nice” Freezes Over Owning horses sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? The picturesque countryside, the soft nickers as you approach, the flowing manes caught perfectly in the golden glow of the setting sun. And then… winter happens. Winter horse keeping is not for the faint of heart—or the weak of back. It’s a full-contact sport that involves battling frozen water troughs (even with a heater), deciphering the science of blanket weights like some kind of equine meteorologist, and, in our case, shoveling an ungodly amount of food into an underweight Belgian named Vlad. Spoiler alert: putting weight on a skinny horse in the dead of winter is a full-time job, complete with a meal schedule that rivals that of a newborn baby and a carrot bill that could fund a small vacation. And then there’s the hay. Transporting it down slick, winding country roads is an adventure all on its own. Nothing quite makes you question your life choices like watching a truck full of winter forage teeter its way toward the hay shed while you hold your breath and pray it doesn’t slide into the ditch. Meanwhile, the snow piles up so high around the paddocks that normal entry points are no longer an option. Gates? Completely blocked. Paige has resorted to hoisting Landon over snowbanks like a medieval catapult so she can pass buckets over to him—because digging out the gate every day is simply not on the agenda. But despite all this, the comment we hear the most? “Oh, you have horses? That must be nice.” And you know what? It is nice. But here’s the thing—everything nice is work. A lot of work. And winter work? It’s a whole other level of commitment. The kind that involves layering up until you resemble an overstuffed burrito just to go outside and spend hours shoveling, feeding, and breaking ice out of buckets (because let’s be real, heaters don’t work miracles). It means trudging through snow up to your hips to make sure the animals are cared for, even when the windchill makes your eyelashes freeze together. It’s knowing that while some people get to enjoy their horses from May to October, we’re out here every single day, battling the elements to keep ours happy and healthy. And yet, come summer, the fair-weather visitors will emerge from hibernation. The same people who wouldn’t dream of helping with chores in February will suddenly remember how nice it must be to have horses and will show up, camera in hand, ready for their aesthetic countryside moment. They’ll snap their photos, soak in the farm vibes, and move along, leaving us to resume the never-ending cycle of care that ensures these animals look like the idyllic Instagram posts they came to capture. This winter is our first with livestock, and if we’ve learned anything, it’s that adjustments will definitely be made for next year. More storage, better hay logistics, and perhaps some sort of pulley system to transport Landon over the drifts instead of relying on his sister’s brute strength. But no matter how much work it is, we wouldn’t trade it for anything—except maybe a snowblower and a heated barn. So, to those who think horse ownership is all scenic trail rides and peaceful morning muck-outs: come spend a week in February with us. Bring a shovel. You’ll leave with a new appreciation for what nice really looks like.