Part of what this blog is supposed to be about is the journey I'm making from novice horse owner to prospective horse farm (as in working horse farm business) owner. I have been in the quiet negotiations phase of buying into the boarding/breeding/training farm where I keep my horses for the past few months. It's a long story, but here is the short version:
- In February 2007, I moved my horse to this small boarding/breeding/training facility.
- The farm was owned by three people-- a husband and wife team, and their friend, the trainer. Shared ownership of the business, the farm, the house, and all facilities in a 3-way, shared partnership LLC. The husband and trainer had always done all the horse work-- all the farm care, horse care, facilities maintenance, and horse training. The wife took care of all the typical "farm wife" duties-- housework, cooking, cleaning, feeding, etc. She did not participate in the business of running the farm, and for many years worked outside the farm--at a bank-- to supplement the farm's income.
- By 2007, all three partners were in the range of 70 years old. The husband and trainer were in great health, very active, working farmers. The wife's health had not kept pace-- she struggled with diabetes, osteoporosis, high blood pressure, and the other "typical" maladies of a 73 year old woman in this day & age.
- In July 2007, the husband of the team was diagnosed with a rapid-acting cancer, too late to treat.
- While he was sick, I stepped in and took on horse chores, morning and evening, for the 15 horses on the farm around my day job. I expected this to be temporary and short-term until he got better or they found other help.
- Over the next 5-6 weeks, my crash course in horse care was accompanied by a crash course in horse farm economics, which led me to understand that there wasn't the money to hire help. Wanting to ensure the best possible care for my own horse at the very least, I kept at it.
- In August 2007, the husband died, and the partnership was re-drawn 50-50 between the surviving wife and trainer.
- Since August of 2007, the 70-year old trainer and I have been operating the farm. She does most of the work, since I am still working full time, but I put in a lot of blood, sweat, and tears in my hours there, and we have had many, many discussions about just how long I can possibly keep this up. And what's in it for me.
- Since August of 2007, and all this work, I have come to realize that the work is a calling, one I am answering from my heart despite the protestations of my head. I have had the incredible opportunity to apprentice with a master horsewoman, to live with horses of a quality I could never afford (and without guidance would never have known were worth affording!), and to learn, learn, learn everything I have learned and just how much I still have yet to learn.
- In the fall of 2008, I tentatively offered that this new life was one I could see living for the rest of my life, and that it had become incredibly important to me to see that the farm went on, at least through the life of the youngest horses born there, including my bay baby boy, a 2007 colt-- so, for another 30 years. At 70, the trainer recognized she would not likely be able to operate the place alone for that long, so a fledgeling partnership discussion was born.
- We have both been very aware of three things with the surviving wife-- that her physical condition does not allow her to do any work to participate in the running of the farm, that farm living (independent of the farming work) is very challenging and hard on her body at her age-- with steep stairs, a drafty old farmhouse, a long, unpaved driveway that needs shoveling and plowing-- and that she is the surviving widow and we need to be sensitive to her needs. So we have quietly considered what to do, without asking her, without wanting to upset her or feel that we're driving her out.
Well, this week, the doors blew off that subtlety bus!
A boarder in the barn, who knows a portion of the story (how hard it is for the wife, and how little she contributes, which makes it harder for the trainer) but not the whole thing (about me wanting to buy in) suddenly says to the wife in quiet conversation, "So, what about you? When are you going to retire and move out of here? It can't be easy to live in this house, and your family is all in XXXXXXville, down the road. Don't you want to go live near them?"
Trainer's jaw hits the floor as she anticipates the shit hitting the fan.
But lo and behold, the wife says, "Yes, I'm thinking about it. It's very hard here, and I'd like to go be with my family...."
Trainer's jaw hits the floor again.
Long story short, trainer and wife have had several conversations this week, culminating in the decision today by the wife to resign from the LLC and move on, trusting that the financing of a buyout will follow soon. (For all sorts of farmholding legal & real estate reasons, the buyout is a bit complicated, and may take up to 6 months to accomplish, so waiting for the money would slow things down.) Wife is already considering senior apartment accomodations in XXXXXville, near her family.
Holy Crapoly.
What this all means is that soon, sooner than I'd thought, I guess, the way will be paved to buy in and become a partner in this horse business.
On the one hand, it's very much what I want. I want the work, I want the responsibility, I want the assurance that my barn owner isn't going to have a heart attack one day and suddenly close up shop, leaving me nowhere to keep my horses.
But, wow, suddenly the responsibility, the scariness, the concept of debt and uncertainty of farming-- crap! That's huge!
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