Posts Tagged ‘barn’
Hay There
We woke up to an icy coating yesterday that ranked in the top 4 slipperiest conditions we’ve dealt with since moving here. The saving grace was how quickly the temperature warmed to a level where everything softened and footing was a little less treacherous. I needed to transfer some hay from the hay shed to the barn but decided it could wait until it wasn’t so slippery.
Our hay stores are down to a little under half the total amount delivered last year.
I’m hoping we won’t need another delivery until after the snow melts because the plowed mountains around the turns won’t accommodate the poor turning radius of our hay guy’s lengthy truck and goose-neck trailer.
In the early afternoon, I moved three bales per trip from the shed to the barn under the watchful eyes of the horses. Mix seemed to be counting the bales as I rolled back and forth. Maybe they were just looking to see if I’d slip.
Twelve bales in the barn is a number that works to keep me from feeling like I’m constantly making this transfer. Any more and the stack would be over my head.
While filling hay nets a few days ago, I felt a wave of summer memories as I pulled flakes off a bale. I pondered about what the field was like where this grass had grown and how hot it was when they were raking and baling this hay.
I wonder if the horses can tell the difference between bales from different parts of the hay field as they chomp bite-fulls through the nets or from the hay boxes. They certainly know when a bite is good to eat or deserves to be dropped to the ground.
Hopefully, they are sensing the solar energy stored in the dried blades of grass. Maybe that contributes to how horses eating hay helps keep them warm when the weather is cold. They are eating that echo of warmth from back in the hot summer days when the hay was baled.
There must be something to it. I tend to get warmer when I’m breaking open bales and stuffing flakes into net bags, one after another.
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Even Frostier
Yesterday morning, Wednesday, September 28th, was even colder than the day before. Instead of a few random spots of frost, our entire back pasture was white from ice crystals on the grass.
It was a hard enough freeze to quickly dispatch some of the plants in the labyrinth. The leaves of hydrangea plants had begun to turn black and shrivel by the afternoon.
Once the sun got high, the temperatures were ideal for toiling in the late September rays. We were on the final stretch of weeding around the rocks lining the paths of the front half of the labyrinth. First, we rolled the rocks away to make it easier to pull weeds. Then, using a guide stick to determine proper spacing, I repositioned rocks to define the lanes again.
Having started at the center of the labyrinth where the distances of each circuit are short, dealing with the increasing spans of the much longer outer rings began to grow a little tiresome. Upon reaching our goal, we rewarded ourselves with a second session of the day hanging with the horses as they freely checked out the barn.
It was their second opportunity of the day and every indication is that our plan is working wonderfully. We placed a small amount of feed in each of the stalls as enticement and by the end of the last session all but Mia had ventured in and out of different stalls to nibble. Swings was taking advantage of the water available in hanging buckets in each stall.
It’s looking like we are making good gains toward adjusting their attitude about coming inside the barn during harsh conditions.
Compared to last winter, they are certainly giving us a much less “frosty” reception to the opportunity.
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Just East
The most severe portions of the storm front slid past just east of us last night. I can’t wrap my mind around how much snow I needed to move last weekend. Yesterday, when I got home from work, there was almost none left. The outrageously warm temperatures throughout the day and the first half of the evening were worlds away from the experience I was having just days before.
In the face of the many advanced warnings of a severe thunderstorm with extreme winds and possible tornadoes targeting our region, Cyndie decided to bring the horses inside the barn so they wouldn’t get soaked.
I arrived with two horses in their stalls and two nervously pacing around in the barn, unconvinced they should enter the confined space. In the face of their large nervous energy, Cyndie looked really small and at the mercy of their willingness to cooperate.
The longer it took Light and Mia to enter their stalls, the more upset Mix became. She worked herself into a tizzy that included a lot of kicking and flailing about. Unfortunately, although we were hoping to keep them dry by bringing them inside, Mix worked up a lather of sweat in her little tantrum.
Eventually, the two chestnuts stepped into stalls but it took a bit longer for all four of them to settle down. Swings started to demonstrate some anxiety that echoed the pacing behavior she enacted shortly after first arriving here with us.
I got the sense there was a lot of post-traumatic stress triggered by the unexpected confinement.
We lingered in the barn for longer than we wanted to, hoping our calm presence would help them to settle enough to take advantage of the generous servings of feed and hay awaiting their attention. When the time seemed right, we slipped out to feed the dog and cat up at the house.
Before the storm front arrived, we did a follow-up check on the horses and found them all calm and collected, so we turned out the lights and left them in place for the rest of the night.
When the lightning became visible and the thunder triggered Delilah into a barking fit, we invited our pets to join us in the basement to await our fate. A short while later, the first intimidating gust of wind stressed the house and whistled above the chimney. A few blinks after that, the worst was over.
We took a short walk outside to check for results near the house and found nothing out of order.
Happy is having a threatening weather forecast not come to be.
Crazy is having over a foot of snow disappear in a couple of days in December along with summer-like severe weather outbreaks.
We didn’t even lose power.
Counting our lucky stars, and thinking of those who suffered damage just to our east.
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As Predicted
The weather on Saturday and Sunday played out just as the forecasters predicted. Windy, cold, gray, wet, snowy, lightning & thunder, and did I mention, windy? I have to go back to work today, and what are meteorologists saying about how today will shape up? Sunny and mid-50s (F). It figures.
We had standing water in the labyrinth. That’s a rarity.
The next shot is not the drainage swale, it’s the North Loop trail. I coulda used a kayak.
The water was even making its way into the barn.
Delilah and I did the morning walk yesterday in a snow shower.
She had her eyes on a robin that seemed oblivious to the presence of a potential predator. I think the birds act that way around Delilah because they know they can fly out of reach in the nick of time.
The presence of robins in the yard is a sure sign of spring. Another inspiring sight to witness is the first shoots of allium making an appearance.
I have a feeling the greenery is going to burst forth with dramatic swiftness when the sun finally replaces the gray skies of the last two days.
It would be a welcome bonus if we could get a decent number of dry days in a row, as well.
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Another Thought
Well, tomorrow brings another thought. And, yesterday’s tomorrow, is today’s today. I have another thought this morning about how I might respond to the milestone of completing ten years of daily blogging. What if I did it for ten more? That’s another way to look at this interesting opportunity.
It has definitely become a comfortable habit that continues to offer me multiple benefits, and occasionally, surprising rewards. Also, by writing about my life every day, I avoid accumulating a build up of some wild idea about someday writing an autobiography.
I should try an experiment where I choose a memory from my past which I have already chronicled here years ago, and write a fresh version to compare how different they might come out. Last night, Cyndie and I met our friends, Barb and Mike for a fine dinner out in Red Wing, MN. One of our conversations touched on the fact that memories get reshaped a little each time we recollect them.
One way I have been contemplating a recognition of ten years of Relative Something is to mine the archives for a variety of gems from years ago and repost them anew. I’ve also begun seeking possibilities for resurrecting a couple of my old “games.” One involved guessing images from an extreme closeup, and another required readers to conjure their own picture in their minds from a description I write. A day later, I provide the picture I was describing for comparison.
Meanwhile, there is no shortage of new stories worth telling happening every day around here. The flooding wasn’t catastrophic for us, but it still caused me more anguish than I care to experience. I think part of that came from the fact that Cyndie was dealing with it alone, while I was so far away at work during the days.
The days of rain have passed and the return of below freezing nights has eased the worst of flowing water for now, but there is still a ton of snow yet to melt, so who knows how long this will last.
The horses were absolutely heroic in allowing Cyndie to guide them out of the barn through the standing water without panicking over the scary reflections and sounds, of which they have had little exposure in their time with us. They’ve dealt with a lot of mud over the years, but rarely, if ever, been asked to traverse water over their ankles.
Oh, the horses.
Man, we are going to miss the horses.
There will be much to write about with the pending re-homing of our herd, but it’s hard for us to even think about, let alone put into words. Maybe that contributes to my pondering the idea of ceasing to write.
If you know me, that is a pretty unlikely result. Writing is how I best process my thoughts.
Here’s to the possibility of ten more years of somethings you might find relative.
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Fine Love
I was clinging to life yesterday, what with an intermittent drippy nose and a congestion headache invading my otherwise stellar health, and from beneath my snuggly blanket, I kept hearing lyrics from a John Hiatt song, over and over in my head.
I’ve seen an angel or two before
but I never asked one to be my wife
Cyndie and I have taken turns caring for each other over the years, and when it’s my turn to be the patient, Cyndie becomes an angel of mercy for me.
She took this picture yesterday morning that gives the impression of some kind of energy emanating from our barn. I expect it is a couple of dissolving jet contrails that painted the morning sky in such dramatic fashion, but I’m happy to imagine that it means something about our place.
Love is one of the pillars by which we live our lives, and it continues to inspire our imaginings of what might be possible on our precious property in the rural countryside. The last few years have been a struggle, in a variety of unrelated ways, not the least of which was the passing of our herd-leading horse, Legacy.
The ongoing painful dysfunction of our government that for over two years has been providing a daily scourge of depressing results hasn’t helped, either.
Cyndie and I are in a bit of a holding pattern as to what comes next. It was a response to her discoveries working with horses, and our time spent with Ian in Portugal that brought us to this property. I was happy to join her in this adventure to unknown possibilities.
Back to John Hiatt’s song…
I left my map way back there baby
I don’t know where we are
But I’m gonna pull my pony up
Hitch my wagon to your star
“Real Fine Love” Written by: JOHN HIATT Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
I’m not sure what comes next, but it seems to me that it would likely have a focus that emanates from that barn.
Whatever it is, it will be infused with a real fine love.
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Lone Straggler
Apparently, a pattern is developing with one of our Buff Orpingtons, that she lags behind the group when it comes time to return to the coop for the night. Cyndie describes a funny scene that happened the other night when she was feeding and cleaning up after the horses.
The chickens tend to congregate under the overhang at times, but we don’t want them in the barn, so it becomes an added hassle to navigate the door while going in and out during chores when they are present. Cyndie had shooshed them out, but one Buff stayed after the others wandered off toward the coop.
After the sun had disappeared below the horizon, that Buff showed signs of wanting to return to the coop, but acted rather timid about trekking through the snow to get there. She would get only so far and turn and run back to the preferred confines with the horses under the overhang… several times.
Cyndie finally made the trip herself, and had to coax the hen to follow her the whole way.
Silly bird.
Last night, I went down to shut the chicken door for the evening, and when I got there in the dim light of dusk, it was all quiet, but for occasional sleepy cooing from inside. I spent an extra minute or two clearing the track for the door so it would slide all the way, and that was enough time to give me the feeling all was settled in there for the night.
It was a pleasantly quiet time and the fading gradient of orange glow transitioning to blue-black of night on the horizon was gorgeous. I was just about to head back to the house when my conscience urged me to truly confirm all were present and accounted for before leaving.
Thank goodness for that.
I opened the big door to peek in and counted eight bundles of feathers. Luckily, in the low light remaining, I could tell it was a Buff that was missing. Not thinking of Cyndie’s recent tale, I feared the worst. I had already lingered long enough to know she wasn’t anywhere near the coop.
Where would I look for her body, I wondered.
I stepped away from the coop, toward the barn, and what do I find?
That lone straggler timidly trying to decide if she wanted to walk all the way back to the coop all by herself. Silly bird.
I can’t help thinking how sad it would have been for her to finally make it all the way, only to find the door sealed for the night, if I had dashed back to the house without looking inside to count them first.
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No Idea
It’s a complete mystery to us, and an entirely unexpected circumstance for the demise of another chicken. I fully expected it would be a predator killing and running off with our next victim.
Jackie found an ominous scattering of black chicken feathers inside the barn yesterday afternoon when she arrived to tend to the horses.
We leave the bottom half of the split doors closed all day to dissuade the chickens from getting inside and leaving their calling cards all over the barn. They are certainly capable of hoisting themselves high enough to get up and over the half doors, but we have yet to catch them doing so.
Our first question is, then how did she get inside? Did she come in of her own accord?
The scattering of feathers were generally confined to two separate spots. What caused the loss of feathers?
Eventually, the trail of feathers led to the discovery of a body, curled up like a little napping kitty, back behind a stack of rakes and shovels leaning against the wall. The deceased hen was completely intact, with no visible wounds.
What was the cause of death?
We have no idea.
Did it get inside on its own and then have a panic attack? Did a predator chase it inside? Carry it inside?
Would a potential predator leap over the door? A cat would.
Did the chicken come inside and then surprise a predator inside? Most likely guess would be a neighbor cat that was trespassing in our barn.
This would have happened sometime in the middle of the warm sunny day yesterday. Cyndie and Jackie said it was really windy around here during the day. Did that have anything to do with how or why the chicken ended up in the barn?
No idea.
We are now down to 9 chickens, three each of the three breeds we purchased. In fact, we only paid for nine. We received 1 extra chick for each breed back in March. This marks the end of the spares provided to cover for possible loss due to any hardships for day-old chicks traveling through the US Postal service.
We received other news from Jackie last night. After a couple of weeks back in classes at UW River Falls, she has decided she needs to move back on campus. Our live-in helping hand will no longer be available to provide the coverage for us like she did through the summer. Jackie has allowed us a good number more weekends away than we’ve been able to achieve previous years.
Our basement “apartment” may be back on the market for someone who knows and loves horses. Also being able to handle a diva of a Belgian Shepherd would be an added plus.
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Horses Endure
Our horses seemed about as pleased with the monumental April weekend of snow as we were. Despite the weeks of being confined to stalls at the beginning of the year, the relentless onslaught of blowing snow had them eager to get back indoors again.
In the picture above, you can see that Cayenne seems to have stepped up to the front position, which hints at her moving into the leadership void that was left by Legacy’s departure. We’ve noticed several instances lately where this new hierarchy appears to be normalizing. Dezirea, the senior mare, looks to be comfortable maintaining her usual position as the assistant manager, overseeing things from the back of the line.
There was a fair amount of urgency in their attitudes when it came time to bring them in each afternoon. Once inside, out of the wind and wet, the horses calmed significantly.
In the mornings, they willingly step out again for some fresh air, but after a few hours in the storm, they start to look for signs we are preparing to bring them back in.
When we didn’t get to it as quickly as they wished on Sunday when the snow was falling fast and furious, we started to hear a fair amount of vocalizations from them, expressing rather clearly that they felt they had endured enough of the harsh conditions.
It’s going to be a muddy mess out in the paddocks for a while now, but I think the arrival of some sunshine today, and again later in the week, will go a long way toward soothing their recent frustrations.
As it will for us all, I’m sure.
I can’t wait for April weather to actually get here for real.
As for this “Apruary,” we’ve had enough.
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Wind Wins
There is no question about who has the upper hand in our never-ending battle against the wind. I figure we are running about 2-to-1 against, between us and the wind in the years we’ve been here.
One of the more spectacular fails we experienced happened in 2014 when my first version of our wood shed was tossed over by a particularly blustery thunderstorm.
We have lost more trees and limbs to wind than I can count.
The winter wind has created havoc on our driveway numerous times, filling it with drifted snow that piles up multiple times the amount that actually falls out of the sky.
Monday’s blizzard of snow and wind racked up another victory over our feeble attempts to protect ourselves and our animals from the ravages of the gusts.
Cyndie reported that upon opening one of the doors to the barn yesterday morning, she needed to shovel a drift… on the inside.
The chicken coop suffered a more evenly distributed coating of snow on the inside. My ingenious design of the mesh ceiling beneath the roof panels was no match for blowing snow at the angle and rate mother nature dished out for hours on end.
I asked Cyndie what the chickens thought about the situation.
She reported a cacophony of upset hens.
I guess I understand their angst, after our forcibly removing them from the expansive barn (despite the one drift) to the extremely permeable confines of their small coop.
I bow to the prowess of the wind.
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Relative Something 