Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Learning Again
It’s another first for us. Last night, on day-7, we “candled” our incubating chicken eggs. Honestly, I had no idea what we were going to see. I’ve left the research up to Cyndie. I was under the impression we would see blood vessels growing. That’s about the extent of my expectations.
The first thing I noticed was that it is hard to see through the dark shells. We almost always were able to detect some definition of a darker area and a noticeably lighter air cell, but rarely perceived actual veins. That can’t be taken to mean there weren’t any there, just that we couldn’t see them.
I didn’t know how much any of this really mattered until learning that an incubated egg that isn’t growing a chick will instead grow bacteria and eventually burst or even explode into a stinky mess.
We suddenly have a new incentive to learn how to correctly interpret what the bright light reveals inside the shell.
I took this picture of one of two odd ones that appear to be more porous than all the others. At least this made it easier to see inside. The darker portion on that egg is much, much smaller than all the others, whatever that might indicate.
Cyndie marked all the eggs with a checkmark or a question mark so we can compare progress the next time we try out our candling skills. Next week.
Hopefully, well before any bad ones threaten to erupt. I really don’t want to learn about that experience first hand.
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Push Pull
The world is in the midst of a bizarre pandemic contrast of simultaneous good progress and bad outcomes. The calamity of skyrocketing cases that are overwhelming hospitals and crematoriums in India has been widely reported at the same time we hear about travel opening up in the EU. In the US, states are ending mask mandates, and relaxing restrictions.
I heard a story on NPR about the lack of vaccines in the Philippines creating a massive crisis of surging cases. In Colombia, violent rioting has erupted, triggered by a proposed tax fix for their pandemic-battered economy.
Things seem to be getting better and worse all at the same time. I suspect there will be a time lag of ramifications that continue to appear for quite some time.
The US Surgeon General, Vivek Murthy, made a good point advising that people not focus so specifically on the percentage number of citizens vaccinated (be it 70% or 80%) toward achieving herd immunity. He pointed out that it doesn’t work as a switch when a specific percentage is achieved, suddenly ending transmission.
Realistically, there will be a gradient of improvement, one we appear to be seeing early hints of locally. It feels odd to be enjoying the reduced pressure to isolate when other parts of the world sound like they are getting so much worse.
Causes a real push-pull on the senses.
I suppose it’s not unlike a lot of things in life where good things and bad are in perpetual interplay.
While our horses are showing good signs of becoming more comfortable with their situation here, Cyndie needed to call for the vet yesterday to check on Light who appears to have a possible sinus infection. While he was here, Cyndie was able to confirm our suspicions about Swings suffering from a bout of rain rot, a skin infection.
A little odd that they both seem to have an infection at the same time, but we are told they aren’t related.
I hope they don’t tell us the horses should be wearing masks.
You can bet that would be a real push/pull.
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Slowly Becoming
We sat beside one of the gates to the large paddock with friends yesterday afternoon and looked in on the four horses as they grazed. They showed awareness of our presence, but little in the way of interest in interacting with us. There have been enough other interactions where they chose to walk near us as we stroll around the perimeter of their pastures that we sense the early hints of a relationship between us.
In the weeks they have been here we have become increasingly aware of the differences between these horses and our previous herd of four well-loved Arabians.
One issue that Mix is experiencing is food aggressive behavior around feeding time that could easily be a relic of being starved sometime in her past.
Our old herd would commonly show up at a gate for social interaction and treats when people would visit. These mares show no sense whatsoever of this concept of “treats.” It’s a little sad to imagine the neglect they might have endured that has left them so uninterested in what humans might have to offer.
I suspect that too much of their experience with people in the last half of their lives has been negative.
These rescued Thoroughbreds have now become familiar with all the borders of their new confines and appear more than satisfied with the accommodations. They seem to understand that we clean up after them and serve pans of feed pellets for supplemental nutrition. Also, they now sense we aren’t a threat, but I don’t know that they are interested in making any hasty leap toward framing us as completely trustworthy.
While I was standing in the field among them around nap time the other day and three of them decided to lie down, I pulled out my camera to record the moment. While I was filming Light and Swings in front of me, I started hearing some strange sounds from behind me.
When I turned around to check, I found Mia’s snout was resting on the ground and it was causing a sort of whistle on her inhale, and then she snorted upon exhale. She was sleeping so soundly, she was snoring!
I took that as a great sign she was thoroughly comfortable with her surroundings and also, my benign presence in the middle of all of them.
We are slowly becoming connected to this herd and they are slowly becoming adjusted to us and our fields.
I anticipate this summer will provide plenty of opportunities to use idle time to continue deepening our precious connections.
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Two Minutes
It sure seemed like the fastest two minutes. Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie and I watched the Kentucky Derby with a new perspective. We have four horses living with us now who started their lives as racehorses but went on to become neglected and ultimately taken on by a rescue organization.
Ultimately, we are not supportive of the breeding of animals for the purpose of racing them for a few years. At the same time, we recognize the fascination with the power and speed of Thoroughbreds.
The Derby is referred to as “the most exciting two minutes in sports.” The 2021 winner was “Medina Spirit” with a time of 2:01.02.
Check out the images posted on kentuckyderby.com. The beauty and athleticism are mesmerizing.
It’s intoxicating. Until we consider the rest of the lives of all the horses at all the racetracks around the world.
We are giving our hearts to four rescued Thoroughbreds with the hope of allowing them to reclaim their wholeness as equine beings, living safely and comfortably for the rest of their lives.
If they choose to run, it’s a brilliant spectacle. Given their own choice on our property, it has never come close to lasting two minutes at an all-out sprint.
We’ll probably watch the next two Triple Crown races to see what transpires, but it is with conflicted hearts. After yesterday’s race, we walked out into the field with our four Thoroughbreds to recalibrate. There was nothing but walking and grazing happening, but they were no less impressive creatures.
Zodiacal Light, Pleasant Mix, The Yellow Sheet [Mia], and Gate Swinger are all champions in our eyes.
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Watching Change
How often do we notice that we are witnessing change? Consider the perspective that everything is changing all of the time. We are watching transitions and adaptations happen every single second.
This time of year, the metamorphosis of our dull brown forests from open branches to a thick fabric of green leaves is very easy to notice. The significance of the difference is truly dramatic to experience first-hand. One snapshot is entirely inadequate to represent the vastness of what is happening, but that didn’t stop me from deciding to take a picture of one moment when the early sprouts of green are just becoming visible.
It was a moment when I was witnessing the continued adjustment of our horses to their new home. I stood among them as they luxuriated in the calm comfort of our hayfield. Cyndie captured the view as it appeared to her from the driveway.
Meanwhile, major change is now underway in the pile of composting manure, as revealed by my thermometer.
The modifications underway that will transform this pile of shit into rich soil are happening right before my eyes, even though there isn’t much to see except a little steam, depending on conditions.
I did the first lawn mowing of the season yesterday and kicked off the oscillating changes of long grass/cut grass that will play out for the next many months.
Change is happening all the time and we are witness to it whether we are paying attention or not..
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May
don’t thank me it was bound to happen despite conflicting interests everyone’s got an alibi the cat says she was sleeping behind the pillows on the bed beneath the spread the dog is playing dumb denying any knowledge which forensics verified the mice are laying low who knows where they all go there’s nothing left but crumbs the eggs are all intact no sign of any cracks deliveries haven’t stopped as life just races along don’t bother calling cops April has run out of days and tomorrow turns to May
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Grazing Big
It was a big day for the horses yesterday on the front hayfield. The sun was out and they had already scouted the perimeter on the previous day, so now it was nothing but calm grazing in the increasing warmth of the morning rays.
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Their precious energy is such a treasure to experience. The impressions conveyed by the photos offer a mere fraction of what it is like to actually stand in their presence long enough to feel like you’ve become a member of their herd.
Another First
It’s been a while since we tried something for the first time at Wintervale, so I guess we were due. Last night we started the 21-day incubation period toward hatching our own chicks. I never had this one on my list of things I wanted to try.
We have set our expectations low, but are striving to meet the specific parameters laid out [hee… laid] in the instructions as closely as possible to improve our odds. Since we weren’t planning ahead for this, some of the eggs spent time in refrigeration, which isn’t recommended.
If any of them hatch, we’ll have even more appreciation for what Rock contributed in his short time with us.
Candling to see if they are viable is scheduled to occur in seven days.
Yesterday, Cyndie gave the horses a new first by opening the gate to the front hayfield for them to explore. The four of them have already chomped the back pasture grass down so much we need to give it a rest.
Looking at how crazy-fast the lawn grass is growing around here during the latest series of rainy days, I expect regrowth in the back pasture shouldn’t take long. The first lawn mowing of the season is definitely imminent, pending the next dry, sunny day.
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Thinking Positively
It makes simple sense to me. Repetitive thought develops paths and synapses in our brains. What we are thinking grows pathways and releases chemical reactions in our bodies. When something difficult comes to us, we can simply be with the experience, but we don’t need to hold on to it. We can let it go and replace it with something positive.
We had a wonderful time with our chickens. Rocky was a great addition to our experience. Cyndie and I are working on filling our minds with the best memories of our hens and the challenge of finding their hidden eggs. We hear their calm chicken conversations and Rocky’s blustery crowing still in our ears.
We have eggs and plans to incubate some of them.
The sooner we release the tragedy of the dramatic losses that happened in such a short span of time, the better. We are noticing the flowers blooming across our forest floor. We are growing pathways in our brains with visions of a world we want to bring into being.
We are thinking positively.
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Today’s Lesson
Today, Cyndie and I are trying to process what lesson we might learn from the ultimate demise of our entire brood of 14 chickens over a span of two weeks when previous years have allowed us so much more time. Whether the most likely threat was coyotes or possibly hawks, we feel completely outsmarted and helpless against these forces of nature.
Yesterday, when the last four birds were taken from us, a leftover pile of feathers in the middle of our back yard, just steps away from where I was obliviously lounging on a recliner beside the fireplace, provided a particularly harsh stab of our inability to protect them.
Should we have changed something about our routine after the first attack? After the second?
It’s a moot point now. Except, there remains the probability we won’t give up trying. After the second attack, Cyndie decided to order an incubator to hatch some of our own eggs. If predators are going to keep taking our birds, we might end up just raising even more.
Evidence pointed to the latest attack playing out in uncomfortably close proximity to the horses whom we are striving to make feel safe and welcome. For now, our focus of attention shifts much more in their direction.
They provide both solace and distraction from our grief over the decimation of the chickens. We are learning how to frame our recent experience losing chickens and trying to soothe the angst of relocated rescue Thoroughbreds.
It may be today’s lesson, but I sense it is going to take a lot more time than a single day to fully absorb.
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Relative Something 