Looking Around
Our neighbors appeared to be having a pretty big barbecue last night. It was curious because we couldn’t see or hear any human activity around the vicinity of that rather large bonfire. Thankfully, the gale force springtime breezes of the previous few days had calmed significantly.
Between sessions of pounding down fence posts yesterday, I tinkered around with the Ritchie® waterer in the paddocks to see if the last few days of dry weather had dropped the groundwater level below the valve lever. I haven’t been able to turn the water back on and I suspect the valve is seized in the closed position by corrosion.
The problem with solving this conundrum is that the valve is below and behind so many obstructions that it involves a blind reach that would be best facilitated by having one or two additional joints between my wrist and my elbow. When I finally achieve a grip on the lever, the fact that it doesn’t easily turn leaves me frustratedly defeated.
Yesterday, I took a fresh look with a bright flashlight to see if I could figure out a different way to approach the challenge. What the flashlight revealed was that my previous attempts had sheered the line off just above the valve. At this point, I’m really glad I wasn’t able to open the valve the last time I tried.
Time to have the original installer visit with his tools and we will lift the upper portion off the base and repair the valve and water line when it will be easy to reach.
As Cyndie approached the house last night after closing the coop and barn doors, the dark silhouette of the house was nicely complimented by the fading color in the evening sky.
I was already inside, watching a bit of NCAA Men’s Final Four basketball. How ’bout that Minnesota kid, Jalen Suggs’ overtime buzzer beater 3-point desperation shot for the win last night! Spectacular.
.
.
Fence Maintenance
I’ve tried a number of methods in dealing with fence posts that get pushed up by the freezing and thawing cycles that occur in our location. Our land has areas where the level of ground water sits just below the surface. It will drop during extended drought, but otherwise it doesn’t take much digging to reach moisture.
Every time it freezes, the water expands and the pressure slowly but surely pushes fence posts toward the sky.
Upon consultation with the owner of the company that originally installed our fencing, I learned that they would likely use a skid-steer tractor and press down with the hydraulic bucket. He suggested I save their time and my money and use the same method with my diesel tractor.
So, I did, and was amazed at how easily that pushed posts down. Almost too easy. It requires painstaking control and mental focus to avoid wreaking total havoc by overtaxing the limits of the posts or cross planks. One wrong slip and I risk doing much more damage than improvement.
There is one other complication with that method that pretty much stops me from even driving up to the fence. The ground in many of the areas of pushed up posts is so wet that my big tractor would sink into the mud and create an even messier problem to be solved.
That led me to desperately trying to simplify the task by just pounding down on the most obvious posts that had pushed up. Several different techniques to protect the post from damage and get the right angle and leverage all brought minimal results.
Yesterday spawned a new insight. I had a hand tool with a square steel pad for tamping soil that I figured would work to pound the top of the posts without damaging them. I also thought it wouldn’t hurt to add my 170 pounds of pressure to stand on a plank when slamming down on the top of a post.
The thing is, I couldn’t feel if it was doing any good. I enlisted Cyndie’s help to watch for progress, which ended up providing great encouragement when she would report how much it was working.
I was thrilled. Right up to the point the steel tamper began to shatter under the mis-use. I tried to carry on, but the loss of weight in the tool seemed to diminish progress. Another tool was needed. We don’t have a specific sledge hammer, but I contemplated rigging something to use the wood splitting maul for the purpose.
That’s when the next inspiration struck. I could modify the broken tamper to make it the handle of a weighty block of wood that would match the fence posts I was pounding.
Look out fence posts. Here I come.
.
.
Morning Sky
The sky that morning before the horizon rolled over to expose the sun showed no intention of revealing what kind of day lie ahead.
It’s as if the view was just one more manifestation of another pandemic mask.
.
.
Remembering Cayenne
Cayenne was a most elegant Arabian mare and a particularly precious member of our initial herd of four horses that christened our new Wintervale property as a horse ranch back in the fall of 2013. Yesterday, she departed this world to join Legacy’s spirit in the world beyond our knowing.
Cayenne was foaled from Dezirea in 2005 and lived 16 years, which can roughly be translated to the equivalent of 48 human years of age. For the five years she lived with us, she seemed to split her time equally between palling around with geldings Legacy and Hunter, but Hunter was her lifelong buddy.
In the image on the right, the two of them were giving me a wonderful reception upon my return from a week of biking and camping one summer.
That’s Cayenne on the right.
Last night, Cyndie and I reminisced about the time Cayenne scolded Hunter after he petulantly farted his displeasure toward Legacy for being driven off a preferred grazing spot. She amped up her energy and pushed Hunter twice as far as he wanted to go, making her point very clear and assuring he got the message.
Cayenne always looked well kept. When others had rolled in the mud or tangled their mane into a knot, Cayenne looked ready for show. The aroma of her hide was always sweet. I loved to bury my face in her neck and inhale her healthy horse scent.
The word that often came to mind when thinking of Cayenne was, royalty.
One other word that came to mind was, magical. As in, magician. One morning we found her calmly grazing all by herself inside the web-fenced arena space despite the gate being closed. She somehow either jumped or high-stepped her way over that webbing without tipping a post or tangling a hoof.
Cayenne also maintained the neatest stall out of all four horses. Despite her penchant for painting the back wall with her poop, the rest of the shavings on her floor basically remained clean. I guess she reserved her mess for the water bucket in that stall. She had a habit of soaking her mouthfull of hay or feed pellets in the water as she ate. Made her bucket a murky disaster by the time we came around to refill them.
Wednesday morning the horse manager discovered Cayenne on the ground and in bad shape from an overnight episode of colic that the equine veterinarian assessed as beyond treatment.
Hunter was already grieving and they gave him an additional moment to come close to pay his respects. He brought his head down to the flank of her lifeless body and took a breath to confirm she was no longer in there. As he picked up his head, he smacked his lips in acknowledgement and turned to look out over the distance beyond.
Cayenne is gone but she will never be forgotten.
.
.
Cheering Underdogs
Warning: Men’s college basketball sports-speak ahead.
As the March Madness NCAA Men’s basketball tournament whittles its way toward the final four, I realize I’ve had no connection to any of the teams involved from the very beginning. With no loyalty influencing my preference for either team in each game, I found myself rooting for the underdog in almost every case.
The thing about having underdogs in a competition is that you need the stronger, favored team to go up against or there wouldn’t be an underdog. Thanks, higher ranked teams, for being in the tourney but I’m cheering for the other guys.
The energy involved in vanquishing a better team is more entertaining to watch. The players get more amped up. The guys on the bench get increasingly more animated. The announcers voices rise in emotion. The underdog fans in the stands go wild.
It’s contagious. I can’t help myself cheering along for a group of people for whom I have no other connection.
There were an 11 and a 12 seed team in the Elite Eight. There were also three number 1 seeds (from three of the four regions) and a number 2. I guess the rankings look justified at this point.
It’s not as exciting, but I do admire the individual and collective abilities of these powerful high-seeded teams. I respect them, even as I am cheering for their downfall.
.
.
Satisfying Progress
It’s not all that hard, but oh, so satisfying to finally buckle down and give home equipment the annual maintenance inspection it deserves. Yesterday, we did that for our variety of carts and wheelbarrows.
Just like so many manuals often instruct, periodically checking bolts for tightness, adding air to tires, and greasing moving parts proved to be a well-deserved exercise. I found one missing a nut and one had lost both nut and bolt. As is usual in the spring, all tires needed air, but one tire was practically flat.
With our wheelbarrows in renewed shape for heavy duty, we put them to work hauling things and old, moldy hay out of the hay shed.
It almost looks like new and is prepped and ready to receive any hay that may be warranted for feeding the horses before our pastures have sprouted eight new inches of spring growth.
Just like taking care of regular maintenance on equipment is well advised, periodically giving barn and hay shed a thorough going over is worth it whether or not you have the incentive like we are currently enjoying. The effort uncovered several wasps nests we were able remove, which will force them to start over from scratch.
The progress of cleaning up the hay shed was even more satisfying than the wheelbarrows. That’s an excellent motivator for the next target of our attention: the barn.
.
.
Thirteen Eggs
We now know that all thirteen of our hens are producing eggs. Friday we collected one egg for each hen in our brood. Our little chicks are all grown up.
They are thriving in their first exposure to spring and full access to free ranging our fields and forest. Crawling insects are under an all out assault.
When I was primping the paddock in preparation of our anticipated new equine tenants, the chickens showed up to join the fun; happy to help.
Now I’m going to go outside and clear out the last remnants of moldy hay from the hay shed and de-clutter the barn and I couldn’t be more excited about the reason so to do.
New horse companions are slated to arrive in less than a month.
.
.
Prepping Paddock
My Friday started with a visit to the Pierce County Fair grounds in Ellsworth where I received my first vaccination shot against COVID-19. The county health department does a wiz-bang job processing people through at maximum speed. I was very impressed.
I experienced no noticeable effects from the shot and headed straight to Hudson for an annual eye exam. No problems found, I’m happy to report. Then, it was back home to work on sprucing up the paddocks in preparation for the pending arrival of horses.
First order of business was to push down fence posts that the frost has heaved up. I used the loader on the diesel tractor and succeeded in avoiding making things worse by breaking boards.
.
It isn’t easy to see what is happening on the far side of the bucket from my vantage point behind the wheel, but with Cyndie spotting (and taking pictures), she helped keep me from any catastrophes.
Since I didn’t sink or get stuck in mud, we decided to try scooping up some lime screenings from our reserve pile to put a fresh layer down under the overhang.
After that, I got out the trimmer to knock down some of the old growth and give the new grass beneath a little more sunshine.
I was hoping to get the automatic waterer back in operation but the shutoff valve is in standing water beneath the unit and out of sight. I had to reach into the freezing cold water and blindly feel around to find it among a tangle of zip-ties and wires.
It took several tries to locate it, almost requiring more joints than I have in my wrist and elbow. Too bad it wouldn’t budge after I finally got my fingers around the handle. Since it has been under water for so long, I’m suspicious that it may be corroded.
It’d sure be nice if I could simply look at it to tell. If I had to guess about what my numb fingers were feeling, I’d say it feels corroded.
There will be time enough to contact the original installer and get his help before the horses arrive. He is going to stop by to quote excavating our old blacktop and preparing a new base for fresh asphalt. The decaying old driveway pavement is now causing increasing drainage problems.
By the end of the day, having succeeded in improving the wooden plank fences without destroying them was enough accomplishment to provide a feeling of satisfaction regardless of what else we achieved. The other paddock enhancements became something of a bonus.
Cleaning the barn and hay shed are next on the list of preparations for the return of horses.
.
.
Like That
.
Sometimes, between the choice of a soft, comfy bed and a hard floor…
…I’ve been known to choose the floor.
Bathed in warm sunshine, either location may prove to be a good choice for a little daytime snooze.
.
.
Relative Something 