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Boxer’s split hoof was a long time in healing. They had started the rebuilding of the windmill the day after the victory celebrations were ended. Boxer refused to take even a day off work, and made it a point of honour not to let it be seen that he was in pain. In the evenings he would admit privately to Clover that the hoof troubled him a great deal. Clover treated the hoof with poultices of herbs which she prepared by chewing them, and both she and Benjamin urged Boxer to work less hard. “A horse’s lungs do not last for ever,” she said to him. But Boxer would not listen. He had, he said, only one real ambition left—to see the windmill well under way before he reached the age for retirement.
At the beginning, when the laws of Animal Farm were first formulated, the retiring age had been fixed for horses and pigs at twelve, for cows at fourteen, for dogs at nine, for sheep at seven, and for hens and geese at five. Liberal old-age pensions had been agreed upon. As yet no animal had actually retired on pension, but of late the subject had been discussed more and more. Now that the small field beyond the orchard had been set aside for barley, it was rumoured that a corner of the large pasture was to be fenced off and turned into a grazing-ground for superannuated animals. For a horse, it was said, the pension would be five pounds of corn a day and, in winter, fifteen pounds of hay, with a carrot or possibly an apple on public holidays. Boxer’s twelfth birthday was due in the late summer of the following year.
Meanwhile life was hard. The winter was as cold as the last one
had been, and food was even shorter. Once again all rations were
reduced, except those of the pigs and the dogs. A too rigid
equality in rations, Squealer explained, would have been contrary
to the principles of Animalism. In any case he had no difficulty in
proving to the other animals that they were NOT in reality short of
food, whatever the appearances might be. For the time being,
certainly, it had been found necessary to make a readjustment of
rations (Squealer always spoke of it as a
“readjustment,” never as a “reduction”),
but in comparison with the days of Jones, the improvement was
enormous. Reading out the figures in a shrill, rapid voice, he
proved to them in detail that they had more oats, more hay, more
turnips than they had had in Jones’s day, that they worked
shorter hours, that their drinking water was of better quality,
that they lived longer, that a larger proportion of their young
ones survived infancy, and that they had more straw in their stalls
and suffered less from fleas. The animals believed every word of
it. Truth to tell, Jones and all he stood for had almost faded out
of their memories. They knew that life nowadays was harsh and bare,
that they were often hungry and often cold, and that they were
usually working when they were not asleep. But doubtless it had
been worse in the (...)
(......)
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