Archive for October 2013
Mostly Unscathed
It is finally the last day of October. What took it so long to get here? Geesh. Trick or treat?
I was thinking it would be fun to do a surprising reversal of tradition and visit all our neighbors on this day to ring their doorbell and offer them a treat from us. Great idea, huh? Too bad that is all it is: an idea. I thought of it while tending to the animal-care chores all by myself during the time Cyndie has been out-of-town. Were she here, I could have tested the idea on her, whereupon she would become inspired to bake something incredible, and then the treat-full trick would be on.
Ah, but Cyndie is home now and the animals get to receive her masterful attention once again. I am happy to report that they all survived, mostly unscathed, under my care. The “lowlight” of the time I was the sole care giver was the morning I brought Delilah with me to the barn to feed the horses. She had been so good the day before, I figured she deserved a day off-leash. I had it in mind to do some work that would accommodate her roaming in the vicinity.
I left her enclosed in the barn while I was out under the overhang with the horses. I walked across the paddock to open a gate to the big field so the horses could wander out there after gulping down their feed. The “chestnut-three” were particularly squirrelly during the feeding, startling each other and doing their merry-go-round rotation of chasing each other off the feed pans.
Unbeknownst to me, Delilah was picking up on this through the wall of the barn. I shrugged it off. I had the gates opened that I wanted open, the feed distributed; my work was done here. I was prepared to take Delilah and move on to the next project I had planned. I was not attuned properly to our dog.
I cracked the barn door open enough to step out and Delilah bolted like she was shot from a cannon. She bee-lined a circle around the barn to where the horses were eating, despite my hollering to stop her. If none of the horses had moved a muscle, she would have barked a lot, but nothing would come of it, but the chestnuts were already on edge from their own shenanigans, so they jumped and ran when Delilah showed up. The chase was on.
It is such a helpless feeling when Delilah tunes us out and goes into predator mode. I shouted, the horses neighed, bucked, ran, and kicked, and Delilah barked and chased. The only result of that formula is escalation. Two of the horses headed out into the big field, but that just inspired Delilah more. She picked one out and stayed right on its heels. In the frantic moment, I wasn’t able to notice which horses she was picking on. Luckily, whoever it was, they ran back into the paddock again and I was eventually able to reclaim the dog’s attention and get her to come out of there. I unleashed my meanest alpha dog routine and rescinded her chance at frolicking off-leash that day.
After I put Delilah in her kennel, I returned to the horses to give them my humble apologies. They seemed to have already forgotten the incident. In fact, it appeared to have helped settled down the chestnuts, as they finally parked themselves, each at one of the 4 feed pans, and were now calmly munching away.
Here are a couple of shots from two distinctly different days:
Mulling Possibilities
I spent some time trying out my hedge idea yesterday, and whether it ultimately proves adequate for a fence, or not, at least it looks a whole lot better. It also will make it easier to mow all the way up to that border.
Unfortunately, this thicket of mostly buckthorn doesn’t run all the way to the road. There are a couple open spots along the way, so we will still need a fence in those places.
This frustrates me a bit. We need to put up fence for part of that border, but we want to keep as much existing growth as possible, which pretty much prohibits us being able to route any fence through the worst of it.
There is always the possibility that we could locate that northern border fence of the grazing pasture just inside the “hedge line” I am creating, but doing so would, over time, be construed as the property line, which I’d rather not see happen.
This may be an ‘either/or’ situation that I am trying to conform to a ‘both/and’ outcome. There is also the fact that by trying to turn that thicket into a hedge, I have created another task that will need attention during the growing season. To keep it looking nice, it will need to be trimmed regularly. Of course, if the horses can reach it, they will be happy to trim it for me.
The hedge shows potential. I’ll see what Cyndie says when she returns, and together we will mull over the possibilities. But like I wrote above, regardless what we decide, it sure looks a whole lot better now that it has been trimmed.
Buried Wires
Our search to locate the rusty old barbed wired fence that demarcated the northern border of our property has reached a temporary pause. We made it to the end of one section of visible rusted T-posts and wires, but now the wires disappear beneath years, maybe decades, of eroded soil that makes its way down the slope from a plowed field above.
I tried pulling up on the wires, but they are so old and rusted, especially having been buried for years, they just broke. I ventured ahead, further along our property line to a new section of scrub brush, to find someplace where the wires show up above ground again, hoping to work my way back from the other direction. What I found was a batch of grape vines so thick that it makes the thorny area we had previously been working in seem like a luxury.
On the positive side, it appears we could grow grapes! This vine sure looks fruitful! Maybe if I give it good attention for a few years, pruning and supporting it, I could nurture a harvest-able crop. Fresh squeezed grape juice would be a real treat.
I did also find where the wires come up out of the ground onto another T-post. As I followed the wires into the ground there, I discovered that they can’t be pulled up from this direction because they are now running beneath years of growth of the thick wood shoots of the grape vines.
At this point, my plan is to just run our new fence in a line between the last posts I did locate. 
The property line is supposed to be straight, anyway, so there’s no real mystery as to where the fence should be. And, there is no sense digging up the buried barbed wire, just to get rid of it. In this case, buried wire is the same as no wire at all.
I have also decided that for the remainder of the thick sections in the direction toward the street, we can forego trying to cut away enough brush to put a fence down the middle, and instead, just use the entire mass of trees as our fence. I will trim the branches on our side so they form a clean line, creating the impression of a tall hedge.
That’s the theory, anyway. We’ll see if my idea works after I spend many hours and a lot of energy pruning trees to test it out.
Flying Solo
For the first time since the horses arrived, I am home alone while Cyndie is out of town. I am trying to keep calm and project a positive confidence, but… oh. my. god.
So far, so good. Our animals are eating the food I cook, er… serve. I know I don’t do things the way Cyndie does, but so far, the dog and horses are politely tolerating my methods. We’ll see how patient they are with me after a few days without Cyndie around.
The cats behave like cats, and take care of themselves for the most part. Speaking of cats, it was over a week ago now that I spotted a white and gray cat beneath our bedroom window, savagely dining on a very recently deceased rabbit. A rather graphic depiction of the circle of life. I don’t know whether that cat gets credit for the kill, or if it was some other critter. If it was Delilah, I don’t think she would have parted with it long enough for the cat to have access.
Whoever it was, the cat didn’t get a chance for seconds after its first meal, because Delilah did find the carcass and had her way with what remained of it, making sure to show everyone around that she had a special prize.
Delilah and I are already missing Cyndie’s extraordinary skills of removing burrs. My skills seem to be in the realm of getting Delilah into more burrs. Yesterday afternoon, we were down by the labyrinth garden and I was clearing a path into the woods nearby that will meet with an old trail we plan to clear and re-open. Then I wandered over to do a little work on a tree that had fallen back in May, when the late-season heavy snow storm hit.
Delilah was exploring everywhere in the area, occasionally stopping by me to bite on a branch as if to help. By the time we got back to the house, she had some burrs that I haven’t seen before. I brushed her for a while, and then we had burrs on the floor, burrs stuck to my shirt, a pile on the table, and some on the counter.
As I was getting ready for bed, I discovered I brought back one more thing from my chores by the labyrinth: a tick. I think it was smaller than a regular wood tick, so that could mean the dreaded deer tick. Unfortunately, he/she was attached and dining on me. That’s the first bite I’ve had in the year we have been here, which I consider pretty good luck. None of our activities here fall under the guidelines of ways to avoid ticks. I was bound to run into this sooner or later.
It gives me something to tell Cyndie about, since I don’t plan to have anything newsworthy to report about the horses or Delilah. Now I gotta get back to work, tending to animals. There is no copilot available to cover for me for a few days.
Gnawing Challenge
Why, yes, in case you were wondering, we do have a tree, two of them, in fact, inside the fence of one of our paddocks. (I just wanted to see how many commas I could fit in a sentence.)
We have been informed by many different sources, that we need to protect our trees from the horses gnawing on the bark. Some folks, we were told, put a fence around trees in this kind of situation. We didn’t want to go to that extreme, so we planned to wrap the trees in something that would block access.
My first attempt involved some left-over plastic fence material from one of Cyndie’s previous garden projects. The horses quickly showed me they are more than happy to chew on plastic, which wasn’t a surprise, so I moved on to the next left-over material I could find lying around. There was some chicken wire that might do the trick, if I could make the limited amount stretch far enough.
It didn’t. I ran short of being able to get high enough up the willow tree, and somebody in the herd decided it was time to show what they could do if given the opportunity. When I noticed some bark had gotten chewed, I figured I needed to take it to a new level, and go the route of a fence. I don’t know why I was limiting my focus to only using materials we had on hand, but it occurred to me that we kept some old cattle fence that would work to keep them from reaching the trunk.
That effort was doomed to having been under-thought and poorly executed. Cyndie reminded me that the size of the squares were large enough to get a hoof through, so we needed to wrap it in a mesh like we did on the big field border fence. Then I noticed that they were just pushing and mouthing that structure to a degree that I would need to keep adding upgrades that would soon have it looking like a Rube Goldberg contraption.
While exploring Fleet Farm the other day, I stumbled upon some material called hardware cloth that wasn’t too expensive. It resonated with me and I decided to give it a try. We dismantled the cattle fencing completely and went back to just wrapping the trunk of the tree, leaving the earlier vinyl and metal chicken wire attempts as a base layer. Now it has a look of medieval chainmail armor from a distance.
I feel like it’s a challenge to the horses, inviting them to try their worst, by allowing them to get right up to it. They can rub their bodies to scratch themselves, then find a weak spot where they could get a grip with their teeth to pull and tear at it until something gives and it looks a mess.
I was hoping Cyndie would just ask them to refrain from chewing on the bark, but apparently it doesn’t quite work that way.
Spunky Behaviors
I don’t know if it was the wind, or that the daytime temperatures rose into the 50s (F), but the horses were really charged up in the afternoon and evening yesterday.
Cyndie had fed them in the morning, and before she left for work she told me that she had opened two gates from the paddock, allowing the horses access to either the big field in front, or the small area behind it that is enclosed by temporary fencing. As I was heading out to visit the hardware store later, I noticed the herd had split, with the three chestnuts grazing in the big field and Legacy near them, but on the other side of a fence in the back area.
While I was out, I visited Fleet Farm for the first time since we moved here. The place has a whole new meaning to me now, compared to when we lived in the suburbs. I am not fond of shopping, so I do it as rarely as possible, but it works out because Cyndie shops enough for the both of us. In fact, I was surprised at how many items I recognized in the store as things Cyndie has “acquired” for the ranch in the last year.
When I pulled back into our driveway, I noticed right away that the horses were in the same location as when I left. It occurred to me when I saw them the first time, that they might not want to be separated, but had probably lost track of how they ended up on different sides of a fence. After parking my car at the house, I headed right down to see if I could guide them back together.
I think I was spot on about them not wanting to be separated like that, because when I showed Legacy that he had a wide open gate available to travel through the paddock out to the big field, much revelry ensued. The herd went a little nuts, galloping around at full power, leaping in the air and kicking up their heels. Do horses have heels? You know what I mean. It was a spectacularly fascinating sight, as well as a bit nerve-wracking. They were so wild I thought they might run into each other, or fail to pull up in time as they tried to “downshift” from a full sprint before running into a fence.
After that, it appeared that all the celebrating had put Cayenne in the mood for some specific attention from the boys. She did everything she could to egg them on, but other than a few brief hints that they noticed, the geldings showed no interest whatsoever. Back to grazing.
When the usual time for their afternoon feeding of grain rolled around, they walked into the paddock where I was working on bolstering my inadequate tree bark protection scheme, and they announced themselves with a whinny. I obliged them and went in the barn to get their grain. When I stepped out again, they were long gone, out in the big field again. No problem for me, I set out the feed pans and went back to work.
They did finally come back in, but they were uncharacteristically timid about going up under the overhang to get to the feed, which is where we have served it to them almost every time since they arrived here. Even after they broke down and walked up to munch, it was in a completely unsettled manner, and they either chased each other away while trying to get a bite, or all 4 would bolt in the well-practiced emergency evacuation drill.
It was probably just the wind, but I wouldn’t be surprised if their being separated –against their wishes– earlier in the day, was contributing to their nervous behaviors.
Healthy Perspective
It would be so great if we could get it all done. There are dead trees to be cut down, logs to be split, a trail to be improved, the round pen needs to be graded/raked, there is rusty barbed wire to be removed and new fencing to be installed in its place, waterways need to be cleared, motors need maintenance, paddocks need to be cleaned, horses need attention, our web site stalled at the “under construction” page… It goes on and on.
The challenge is to maintain a state of mind that is at peace with the reality of right now. 
There will always be more to do than we are able to get done. Each moment deserves our best selves to be present, regardless any number of unfinished projects awaiting our attention. There is an art to maintaining a healthy perspective about what matters most, and being able to radiate a positive peacefulness to people and animals around us.
It is not an art that I have strong skills at practicing, but I am motivated by a desire to not be the guy who short changes himself and others by devaluing the present moment by excessively fretting over all the things that haven’t happened yet.
Clandestine Surveillance
Have you noticed the headlines in the news lately about a number of national governments expressing outrage over the revelation that the U.S. is spying on them? I suppose it is the politically correct reaction, to publicly complain about being violated in such a way, but come on, it’s spying. Clandestine surveillance is likely happening everywhere, from every direction, so I find it humorous to read the protestations that sound like they are shocked and upset to learn that it is happening.
How do you demand that other people not spy on you? Spying is not something that is done by permission.
I fully expect that other countries are using whatever technique they possibly can to collect information on the United States. It’s what countries do. Heck, it’s what people do. Our neighbors have admitted that they spy on us.
If they were watching yesterday, they would have noticed Delilah helping me choose what to split next from the pile of cut logs by the shed. They should have noticed the FedEx truck come up our driveway. Weber grills customer service sent us a replacement regulator for our grill. Delilah got some doggy treats from the friendly driver.
Maybe they even noticed that we got a package in our mailbox. My two new pairs of work pants arrived. I needed to order some with a smaller waist, because all the activity we do around this place is burning more calories than I have been consuming.
Of course, all of this information is private, so if you are secretly reading this, then you are spying, too.
Maybe the next time I lose track of where Delilah wandered off to when we are letting her run off-leash, I should ask the neighbors which way she went.
Too Fun
It is a good thing that I chose the 8-cubic-foot sized wheelbarrow when I recently shopped for one with two wheels. Anything smaller and we would be making a lot more trips in and out of the paddocks to dump it, and anything larger and we wouldn’t be able to push it when it was full. I have been removing between 16 and 24 cubic feet of manure at a time, every few days, when I get around to tending to the task. When that wheelbarrow is full, it is very heavy to push.
Unfortunately, my grip is failing me, which doesn’t help when moving a heavy wheelbarrow, because the inflammation through my carpal tunnel (both left and right) is raging day and night lately. It seems that everything I do is an irritant, and my thumb and first two fingers go numb when typing on a keypad, when gripping a rake or shovel, scooping manure, moving the wheelbarrow, holding a steering wheel, gripping the wood splitter, or sleeping at night. It even bothered me while trying to hold a fork during dinner last night.
One would hope that the sleeping wouldn’t be a problem, because my doctor prescribed wrist braces to keep the hands in a neutral position all night, but 4 o’clock in the morning is a time when the pain and numbness seems to bother me the most.
It probably doesn’t help that I have started to frequently throw a ball for Delilah to find. My arm is killing me from repeated attempts to throw farther than I am realistically capable. But hope springs eternal, and I continue trying to throw that thing as hard as I can. It is just so irresistible to watch Delilah use her nose to hunt the ball down, returning so proud when she comes back to me with it clenched in her jaw.
It took her a while to get the hang of the game, but now she behaves as if she understands exactly what I am saying. If she didn’t see where I threw it, I tell her she needs to find it with her nose, and she will start traversing back and forth across the yard in front of me, nose to the ground, as fast as she possibly can. At first, I would just throw into the mowed grass, but I quickly increased the difficulty by throwing into the woods. It boggles my mind that she can find it in there, especially when she has lost track of what direction I threw toward. I will go back to splitting wood while she hunts, often expecting she will never find it, and then suddenly, she is at my feet, with that ball in her mouth, hoping I will throw it again.
It is a game that has become too much fun for both of us.
October Cold
It doesn’t always work to compare one year with the next, and I was doing just that last week, as we approached the 1-year anniversary of moving to this fabulous property in Beldenville, WI. A few days after we arrived last year, the temperatures were warm and we cooked dinner outdoors over the fire, then went to sleep with our bedroom window open.
Yesterday, I went outside with my usual work gloves on and rather quickly discovered they were now insufficient. It is time for insulated gloves again. I assumed the air temperature would warm up as the day went on, but it seemed to just get colder. Clouds blocked the sun most of the time, giving the day a classic cold October look. I ended up involved in more outdoor activity than I really wanted, and my body started to absorb the chill as the hours accumulated. Snow fell on and off, occasionally dense enough to start to collect on surfaces.
There is something to the adjustment of our bodies to the environment, and in October, temperatures in the neighborhood of freezing feel painfully more cold than they do in March. Yesterday the outdoors were harsh and bitterly uncomfortable. In 5 months, the same temperatures will have us opening our coats and basking in the relief from the deep freeze.
The horses have started to grow out their thicker winter coat of hair, but it isn’t quite full yet, and the cold rain in October gets right through to their skin. We brought them into the barn on Sunday because they were shivering.
Last week, before the rain, Hunter showed up with a mud mask on. It looked like he was getting ready for Halloween at the end of the month. I wish I could have seen him in action when he did it. The finished product looks so perfectly applied that I’m thinking he had a mirror or something. Probably, he was trying to improve the insulating value on himself, in preparation for the October chill that felt so wicked out there yesterday.
Relative Something 