Excerpts from Grapes of Wrath
And when a horse stops work and goes into the barn there is a life and vitality left, there is a breathing and a warmth, and the feet shift on the straw, and the jaws champ on the hay, and the ears and the eyes are alive. There is a warmth of life in the barn, and the heat and smell of life.
Those fine bays, matched they are, matched in color, matched the way they walk, stride to stride. In the stiff pull–straining hams and buttocks, split-second timed together. And in the morning, the light on them, bay light. They look over the fence sniffing for us, and the stiff ears swivel to hear us, and the black forelocks!