Notes from Maine - 2026/10/26
It’s just about time to retire the hose for the year. The horses have four buckets per stall and two big buckets outside. It’s not uncommon for them to drink eighty gallons (three hundred liters) in a day. When there’s no frost, I use a hose to fill the buckets. It’s not faster, but it’s less effort than carrying each bucket from the spigot to the stalls. Restricted by the hose, it takes more than a minute to fill each bucket. Direct from the hydrant, the buckets fill in twenty-six seconds. With it wide open, I have just enough time to carry a bucket to a stall, lift it over the half-wall, and hang it on the hook while the next bucket is filling. That’s what I’ll be doing in a couple of weeks.
The outdoor buckets are more difficult to fill without the hose. Those are twice as far from the water, so I have to rush back and forth. The last thing I want is for a bucket to overflow in the winter. The ice leaves a tripping hazard that won’t go away until spring.
I was filling a bucket with the hose yesterday when the end got away from me. It slipped out of the bucket and reared backwards, powered by the force of the jet. In an instant it was through the bars as I tried to grab it. Earl was pressed back against the wall of his stall with wide eyes as the snake evaded my grasp. The next thing I knew, the end of the hose had flopped down into the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. The hose has a tiny lever on the end to open the valve. I tried to remain calm and extract the hose from my pocket as water rushed down the inside of my sweatshirt and into my pants.
The lever caught on the sweatshirt fabric. Water flowed into my boots.
By the time I turned it off, my clothes were soaked through. I finished filling the buckets, shivering from the cold, and then sloshed back inside to shed everything into the washing machine. It’s just about time to retire the hose for the year. Maybe next year I’ll find a different valve for the end of the hose.
Maybelle and Earl (the parent horses) stand back while I fill buckets. Lilly (their little foal) loves the bubbling water. She pushes her nose down into a bucket while it’s filling and splashes around. She’s such a sweetheart. Lilly turned seven months old the other day. Friday will be her first Halloween. I don’t know if she’ll stand for a costume. It might be too scary.
We saw a costumed horse at the “Nightmare on the Ridge” a week ago. It’s a haunted walk that winds through an orchard. Between two buildings there was a covered bridge and a Headless Horseman passed by. Mom reached over the railing to pet the horse.
“You’re not supposed to touch the actors!” I said.
Mom didn’t listen to me.
The person on the horse said, “I say she can pet the horse!”
So that’s what Mom did.
I went again a couple of nights ago with friends. It was raining a bit, so the Headless Person was there but not the horse. I thanked them for letting Mom pet the horse. That haunted walk is one of the best I’ve been to, and I’m very lucky that it’s so close to my house. I’ve been a bunch of years in a row and sometimes we even go twice. This last time I was buried alive in a giant coffin. For five dollars, they let you climb in and then they shut the lid tight. You hear the hearse drive off and feel it bump and thump into the cemetery. The gravediggers chat and then dirt bangs against the lid. I loved the concept, but the script and audio needed work. It’s not terribly important to hear what the gravediggers are saying—I think it would be better if their voices grew more and more muffled with each shovelful of dirt. Some subtle white noise would increase the feeling of isolation. Maybe the sounds of insects inside the coffin would add to the creepiness.
I would also give the patron a ribbon that was hooked to a bell.
Looking them in the eye, I would say, “Pull this if you need to get out. Don’t be a hero—this ride can evoke some powerful emotions. If this bell rings we’re going to get you out immediately.”
Then, of course, if the bell rings I would leave the person in the coffin. I might even abandon them in there for longer.
One thing that makes this haunted walk so good is the animatronics. They have a number of pneumatic mannequins who come to life when a sensor is tripped. Some are pretty authentic—it’s just the jerky, repetitive motions that give them away. Because the animatronics are so good, when you come upon a motionless figure you can’t be certain if it’s just a statue, if it’s going to jerk to life, or if it’s a real actor who just happens to be really good at standing still. Some of the actors are uncanny. They wait until you’ve gotten close, looked carefully at their outfit, and then once you start to walk away they’ll come to life. You’re never sure where the next jump scare will come from.
Between buildings we had to stop to let throngs of rushing people go by. We like to go through the walk carefully, absorbing every detail and getting the most out of each gag. If you trip a sensor too soon, the display might not have reset yet, so we’ll wait until things quiet down before we enter.
Every year I think how cool it would be to design one of those attractions. I think it would be way too much work though. I have a deep appreciation for the effort they put in. Can’t wait to see what they come up with next year.
