For some, it’s the most wonderful time of the year…. with the kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you be of good cheer, but I swear to God if one of those freaks walks into the barn on Christmas morning while I’m chipping frozen horse excrement out of the solid igloo-cornerstone-worthy block of ice that was once a water bucket and tells me to “be of good cheer” I will show them the true meaning of Christmas.

“Snow day” takes on a whole new meaning. Photos Courtesy of Alice Peirce.

For roughly three months of the year, every barn’s primary caregiver takes on their true form. Gradually layers of stall bedding and clipper-hair-covered clothing build up over their hunched figures. Less and less flesh is visible until only windburned eyes squinting from layers of tightly wrapped fabric are the last discernible human feature.

Cold climate barn “fashion.”

Barn Krampus has arrived. It won’t be gone until March. Even as I write this I feel the metamorphosis closing in. I don’t have much time before my Barn Krampus mittens hinder me from typing at all.

For those of you who aren’t versed in Norse Christmas mythology, the Krampus is a hideous half goat, half human that goes around with Santa to punish the bad children, or in this case, holiday barn well-wishers. A word of advice to barn visiting civilians, do not mistake the custom stockings hanging from each stall as the Krampus catching the Christmas spirit. It just likes the horses better than you and hasn’t the heart to tell them Santa is a slacker and only brings gifts to bratty human lesson children.

The Barn Krampus will not be in good cheer, so it’s best to avoid the subject matter altogether. Your best bet is leave a hot cup of coffee and maybe some carbohydrates somewhere the Krampus might smell them (barn aisle is fine). Back away slowly and avoid eye contact. In the morning the offerings will be gone, just like Santa!!

Christmas claims another Krampus.

Most holiday tunes run the risk of sending your Barn Krampus spiraling into despair. But this Christmas carol? Fellow Barn Krampuses, this one is just for you.

I’m dreaming of a warm Christmas
Just like the ones without the snow
When the horse eyes glisten, their adrenaline risen
They chuck their riders in the snow

I’m dreaming of a warm Christmas
Just like those jerks in Aiken say they know
Where the grass only thickens, and the horses listen
To riders when they’re screaming “WHOA”

I’m dreaming of a warm Christmas
With every frozen turd I spike
May your mounts hop on the van without a fight
It’s warm in Cabom and you cannot miss that flight

I’m praying for a warm Christmas
Just like the ones with zero snow
When they’re in for the day and out at night
And when all your clips last and stay real tight

I’m dreaming of a southern equatorial Christmas
With every iced bucket I smash
I hope Santa brings me lots of cash
Because horses break banks and spirits super fast

May your feed, hay and vet bills all be light
And may the global warming experts all be right

May your Christmas be anything but white.

Nothing goes together like coveralls and champagne.

Alice Peirce was raised as a self-described “feral horse farm child” in Howard County, Maryland. She’s made efforts to leave the horse world over the years but always comes back and has worked for a number of people in various disciplines. Currently she’s working for the Maryland Horse Breeders Association, attempting to teach her draft Mule Olive how to jump, and training foxhunters in Monkton, Maryland, where she hunts with the Elkridge-Harford Hunt. Read all of Alice’s blogs.