Posts Tagged ‘broken fence’
Busted Post
When we noticed a large gash on Swings’ side a few days ago, I probably should have searched further for the possible cause but I assumed it was either from one of the other horses or the fence up by the overhang where they spend the majority of their time.
Yesterday, we had a farrier appointment that had me closing gates and putting halters on the horses in preparation. When I came to the gate by the round pen I found an alarming sight.
I’ve worried that the individual cross boards might not hold up against the weight of the horses when they push against them but I never expected they might snap off one of the 4×4 posts. Oops. Most likely, too many horses were trying to squeeze through that gate opening at the same time, and at high speed and Swings smacked into the fence. That must have been quite a scene.
I won’t be able to replace it until the ground thaws so I’m planning to splint it for a temporary fix. I need to buy some big wood screws first, though. Until then, that gate is closed to further traffic.
There was a bit of wind yesterday that contributed to unsettling the horses before I started putting halters on them and closing gates. Getting haltered just riled them up even more. I worried that this would make things much harder for the farrier, Heather, but she breezed through all except for Light. The delays of Light’s skittishness over being constrained and having her feet picked up were not atypical behavior. We’ve changed our minds several times about what her issue might be but we’ve found that simply out-waiting her reluctance without adding to her anxiety has allowed Heather to give reasonable attention to all four feet during the last two sessions.
We are grateful that Tom and Johanne from This Old Horse always show up to support Heather, which takes some pressure off us in managing the horses’ behavior. It also feels good to have them get a fresh look at how the horses are doing.
Other than a broken fence post and a big scuff on Swings’ side, the horses were assessed as looking good and doing well.
Now it’s time for me to put on my fence-repairing carpenter’s hat.
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Venturesome Cows
We had never imagined this day. It wasn’t unprecedented that Delilah would serve as our alarming alarm clock, with her loud barking outburst at the screen door of our bedroom to disturb the quiet early morning solemnity.
I astutely commented to Cyndie that I was surprised that I wasn’t hearing the usual dog in the distance that typically sets Delilah off.
After the second outburst in quick succession, Cyndie gave up trying to snatch a few extra minutes of lingering in bed and got up.
“There are cows outside our window!”
Oh? I sprung up to witness the spectacle for myself. Yes, indeed. No question about what Delilah was trying to tell us. I spotted three cows standing in the most unlikely place I could think of.
They were by the wood shed, at the top of the big hill trail coming out of our woods.
I sleepily stumbled after my camera, which was on the far side of the house. When I returned to the bedroom, there were no cows in sight. Ghost cows?
Cyndie invited me to get dressed and join her in morning chores, wherein we could also investigate that bizarre sleepy visual we had just witnessed.
Unsurprisingly, from the top of our back yard hill, we could see the rare sight of white animals down by the labyrinth. By the time we got down there, the shifty cattle were gone again, though not out of earshot. The sound of their navigation through our forest can best be compared to a herd of bulls wandering the aisles of a china shop.
Branches snapping left and right, a bovine face appeared out of the trees. Then another, and another. We counted ten at one point, though it was never clear we were seeing the whole picture.
While Cyndie tried to shoosh them out of her garden labyrinth, I set out to see if I could tell where they had come from. Tracking them wasn’t hard, as the 40 heavy hooves left a trail that looked like a rototiller had rolled along our soft wooded trails.
They had tromped everywhere! It made it difficult to determine where they had busted out of a neighbor’s fence, because they had moved to and fro in every direction.
We tried coaxing them into our back pasture to contain them, but the boring grass offerings there must have paled in comparison to the adventure and foliage they were finding throughout the forest. They bushwhacked toward the most difficult wooded passages in lieu of our pasture gate.
Eventually, while trying to get back with the main herd, they busted a strand of wire in the fence and very slowly, one at a time, most of them figured out their own way through. When we found them trying, Cyndie stepped on the bottom wires and lifted the top one, cooing to the stragglers to take that last step.
I tried coaxing them with a branch of leaves. That brought the main herd toward us, which was the opposite of what we wished to happen. I tried my best at novice cow whispering and turned the herd around, bringing two of the last escapees back into the fold.
For some reason, the last cow either panicked or just decided it was never going back. It turned and disappeared deep into the woods.
Unable to find the loner cow, Cyndie and I decided to reattach the broken fence wire (I had learned the neighbor was gone on a motorcycle trip in Iowa) and called an end to the big distraction of our day.
We were hours beyond our planned departure for the lake place.
With a note to Jackie about the possibility of an odd cow showing up while we were gone, we hit the road.
That was one very strange day at Wintervale.
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Relative Something 