In truth, the old ladder had always scared her even before it had lost its rung. Someday she would replace it, and with sadness as well. The replacement would surely be a strong metal piece of modern equipment that would support her. But it would have no feeling, warmth, or personality of its own. Standing, finally, at the top of the ladder, looking down into the aisle of the barn, she could see into each of the stalls from above. She smiled at each animal's impatience. They knew what the climb meant, and they were in no mood for her nostalgia, they wanted to eat. Tossing a pretty head, the young mare in the stall directly below where Karen stood, nickered her desire expecting her owner to hurry at her insistence. "Okay, grouch. I'm hurrying," Karen scolded with a smile. A snap from a wire cutter broke the baling that bound the long rectangular bales, and it fell apart in thin, square leaves of dried hay. Picking up several pieces she threw the first armful down and it landed with skilled precision in the stall of the impatient lady below. Another armful fell with well-aimed grace into the hay bin of the next stall, and then the next, until Karen stood at the end of that side of the barn. She looked across to the opposite side and the tossing heads that were below it. Carefully she stepped out onto the catwalk that crossed the great expanse of the aisle, holding on to the crossbeam above for balance. The old wood may be creaky, but it did its job. At least she prayed it wouldn't pick this day to give its last breath. As she turned to a bale prepared to snap its wire, she heard a nicker below her. That was a sound she recognized. It was familiar, and distinct, in its communication-there was company in the barn. Hunger or no, her horses would welcome any visitor with a warm friendly greeting before turning their concentration back to the situation at hand. They each had their own personality, but always, they were polite. "Who's down there?" she called out.