Posts Tagged ‘caring for horses’
Dodging Downpours
Thunder and lightning dominated our morning, all the way from the wee hours when I was trying to stay asleep, through our walk with Asher in the woods, and tending to horse chores. It wasn’t a constant storm, though. The rain was intermittently gushing and then stopping completely for varying spans of time.
We chose to delay even starting out the door until one obvious radar blob cleared our airspace. Our walk was pleasant, and we stayed dry everywhere except our boots, awash in the sloppy footing.
During the interval we were with the horses, we ended up trapped under the overhang two different times, waiting out short cloudbursts that suddenly occurred. Each lasted only a short time, allowing us to continue with our tasks without getting soaked.
Cyndie noticed a new level of hair rubbed into the braids of twine we wrapped around the overhang support posts. The mares were biding their time under the protection of the roof with some self-grooming while the deluges were pouring down.
Now that the rainstorms have moved beyond us, the world outside looks too soggy to be inviting. A little sunshine would do wonders to inspire us away from otherwise leisurely indoor pursuits.
I expect that Asher will encourage us to get back outside on his regular schedule, no matter what the weather offers. That’s not a bug, it’s a feature!
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Random Crashing
It’s all about the weather. The conditions we awoke to yesterday morning were right up there with the most challenging we have faced, primarily due to the precipitation falling while temperatures were right around freezing. It wasn’t a harsh cold like a winter day, but a little bit worse in the way of bone-chilling, soaking wet cold.
The horses were shivering more than we liked to see, and Mia’s blanket was half off and dragging in the mud. Luckily, she stood still while we removed that and put on a fresh dry one. While the horses were occupied with their morning feed, Cyndie began cleaning out the inside of the barn so we could offer them a chance to come inside. We decided on a plan of leaving the stalls wide open and giving them the ability to come in or out as they wished without restrictions.
Since the last two times that we put them in stalls and closed the doors were disastrous, mostly due to Mix’s PTSD tantruming, we wanted to test whether they would choose to come in on their own to get a little extra shelter if we didn’t lock them in. There was fresh water, hay, and a small serving of feed in each stall.
They were all pretty skittish about coming in and showed no sign of being comfortable enough to relax and take advantage of the shelter. There were frequent moments of urgent exits and crashing into doors and each other, but then they would wander in tentatively again for another try. Swings was confident enough to spend extended time eating and drinking in the first open stall. She was comfortable enough to pause for a pee while in there.
Eventually, she made her way to the opposite corner stall and spent a little time checking it out. Mia barely made it inside the front door because Mix and Light were busy not making their minds up and nervously rushing out as quickly as they had tiptoed in.
After we grew weary of waiting for them to calm down, we kicked them out and closed the door so we could get back to the house to feed Asher and have some breakfast for ourselves.
When we came out around noon, the ice accumulation on tree branches was growing to between 1/4 and 1/2 inch thick. Whenever a gust of wind shook loose the ice, the crashing sound on the metal roofs of the shop-garage, and the barn made it sound like entire branches were coming down.
It was good the horses weren’t inside the barn because that would have freaked them out big time. The temperature was climbing a few degrees above freezing, and the horses appeared to have warmed up enough that they had stopped shivering.
We decided to keep the barn shut, but we swung the alleyway gates out so they could have access to the center space under the overhang that is normally reserved for us, leaving the door into the barn closed. Watching them on the surveillance camera, we saw Mix claim the center spot, which left Mia with an entire side of the overhang to herself.
They were done crashing around, so all that remained were large shards of ice raining down out of the trees at random when wind gusts shook them loose. It was no less unnerving for us.
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Week Apart
At the risk of belaboring the point, here are two images of our home, one week apart:
Sunday, March 15
Sunday, March 22
The temperature swing from Saturday to yesterday was a drop of more than 40 degrees. March weather can be dizzying. I won’t deny an enduring urge to stay snuggled in bed instead of getting up to slog through all the mud on our trails and in the paddocks.
Thank goodness we’ve got the horses to warm our hearts, no matter what version of early spring weather is dished out. They don’t let the mud underfoot bother them. No, they consider it a valuable asset for skin and hair treatments.
Cyndie found that two of them were ready to have their caked-on hair brushed out, while the other two preferred to keep wearing their mud packs. To each their own.
A week from now, it will just as easily be the other way around.
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Momentary Panic
It was a beautiful morning yesterday, with a thick line of fog hovering low across the valley. It completely obscured the view of our neighbor’s buildings on the property south of ours.
The horses were quietly eating from their feed buckets, and Cyndie and I were working together to scoop up manure drops out in the paddocks. Cyndie had her back to the horses, and I was facing them toward the overhang.
Suddenly, a ruckus occurred, and I looked up to see Swings struggling to get out from between Light and the wood fence. When she burst free, it was done very awkwardly. In an instant, before Cyndie could even turn around, Swings was moving right for us, stepping oddly sideways, like she didn’t have control of her body.
I’m not sure how she missed us, because we hardly had time to move, but she brushed past us, flailing sideways the whole way out to the middle of the large paddock. It looked like she was having a seizure of some sort. If not that, my only other perception was of her body being possessed by some entity other than her own.
She stopped moving and dropped her head down low. It reminded me of the way Light behaved when she was in pain from a head wound. After a moment or two, Swings regained her composure. She took a few steps and then laid down to do a normal-looking roll. When she got up from that, she had a moment of shakiness before slowly making her way up the slope toward the overhang to where she was before the whole drama unfolded.
It was the strangest thing I have ever seen in all the years we’ve had horses, but for some reason, not as unsettling as I would expect. It was good to have been there to witness it together. We kept our eyes on Swings for a little longer, but saw no indication of anything out of the ordinary in the time following.
Cyndie immediately reported the incident to the folks at This Old Horse. Since Swings had returned to normal, they felt that no action was necessary beyond watching her closely the rest of the day.
We spent some extra time with the horses in the middle of the day, and Cyndie was able to do some grooming on several of them to varying degrees. It was particularly rewarding to see Mia be so receptive to attention. Cyndie was able to completely brush out her mane, which had been a severe tangle of fairy knots.
Swings seemed fine the rest of the day, leaving us a little mystified about what caused her moment of panic, but it serves to keep us cognizant that she is 31 years old, and each day she makes it through without trouble is a blessing to be cherished.
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Melting Begins
After all that fussing we did about covering Mia, and her not wanting our help, it appears our fears over her fragility were unfounded. She has fared the storm looking totally in control. Through wet snow, then blown snow, and finally, bitter cold, Mia coped just fine and looks no worse for wear.
A toppled and snow-packed birdhouse currently out of service.
Our ATV, on the other hand, has failed to start since I parked it in the middle of the storm after clearing a rudimentary path from the road to Cyndie’s side of our house garage. I will try again when it has warmed up significantly to see if anything changes.
I have never enjoyed battling gas engines, and as a result, my troubleshooting skills are minimal when they fail. My primary methods involve trying the same thing over and over, hoping for different results.
Without that to plow, and my resistance to cranking up the big diesel tractor to clear a little snow that will soon melt, we have resorted to hand shoveling a large amount of snow, while leaving other significant areas to (hopefully) melt quickly in the coming days.
Yesterday, Cyndie took a heroic turn clearing the snow from in front of my side of the house garage while I worked to shovel a wide path to the propane tank. The level has dropped below the trigger point to order a fill, and the dispatcher put us on the schedule for the next time a truck is in the area. Based on past occurrences, it won’t be a long wait.
The forecast teases that temperatures will be above freezing today and stay there for four consecutive days, ultimately reaching the low 60s (F) by Saturday. It is our hope that further shoveling will be unnecessary as a result.
Those rain sheets will come off the three horses today, and we will prepare for the paddocks to become mud-sasters for the foreseeable future. It has become obvious that to regain the solid base we had years ago, a new layer of lime screenings should be applied.
That’s a project that requires more oomph than either of us is feeling inspired to muster at this time. As long as there remain a few spots where the horses can get relief from standing in deep mud, we can get away with delaying doing anything about the issue. It becomes a mental health exercise for me to practice not constantly ruminating about it in the meantime.
Here’s to a quick meltdown across the land. It’s time for the snow to go.
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Snowstorm Underway
As of this morning, I would say the weather service delivered accurate warnings about this “historic” winter storm. Unfortunately, Asher decided the snow gave him freedom to do whatever he pleased, leading me on a near heart attack march through the deep drifts, following his tracks up 650th St. to convince him to get to the barn, “NOW!”
Not sure if his e-collar was not tight enough or if he had gotten out of range, but it is now much tighter and set to a higher level of getting his attention and cooperation.
Before he disappeared on me, I paused to take a picture of the drift off the roof.
Down the hill in the woods, I saw him stop to poop. After a few steps of trudging through the snow somewhere near where our trail should have been, I looked for his fluorescent orange vest and couldn’t find it. Hustling through the deep snow to find his tracks, I could see he was off on a leaping run and never spied him again until I had huffed and puffed my way across most of our acres to the road. Then it took cresting the hill to the north and spotting him a mile ahead of me. It was so far that I struggled to identify whether he was still moving away from me or coming back.
It took losing sight of him behind a rise in the road to figure it out.
The horses are coping the way horses do. I don’t know if they experience regret, but I hope Mia is cognizant of how hard I was pleading with her to accept a cover before the storm arrived.
Sadly, the wind direction at the start of the snow was from the east and blew right under the overhang. It has switched now, so they at least have that level of relief from the blizzard.
Now I’m headed out to see if I can put a mid-storm dent in the drifts over the driveway with my Yamaha Grizzly 660.
This is one instance when I will have no problem allowing “good enough” to prevail over the usual target of perfection.
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Mia’s Resistance
It’s hard to help a horse that doesn’t want to be helped. In this case, it’s our sweet little mare Mia who repeatedly shunned our attempts to provide a little extra protection against the elements. For some undetermined reason, Mia is becoming something of a diva, despite continuing to be firmly established at the bottom of the herd hierarchy.
Last Friday, when we were haltering horses for their session with the farrier, Mia held out until the very end and even then, resisted with aggressive gestures of biting and posturing for a kick before Maddy got her haltered. Well, she behaved the same way again for us yesterday afternoon when we were attempting to put rain sheets on all of them.
With Cyndie gone, I asked Maddy for help figuring out which sheet would best fit each horse. She made short work of covering Light, Swings, and Mix, all of whom stood calmly while getting blanketed. Light even patiently allowed the process to happen twice, after Maddy changed her mind and switched to a different sheet.
Mia stands alone on the hill of the hay field while the others are eating the afternoon servings of feed under the overhang.
After those three were done, all we needed to do was convince Mia that she should be covered, too. Historically, she is the one most needing a blanket when conditions get wet. She emphatically resisted our every attempt.
Despite patiently trying to outwait her objections and ply her with treats to coax her cooperation, we ended up leaving her to fend for herself against the coming precipitation because she never ceased her aggression.
I wish I could understand what her gripe is.
Still feeling like there might be some hope, I tried on my own one last time after Maddy left. Mia’s attitude didn’t change a bit.
There was one more trick up my sleeve, though. I called our friend, Michelle, who lives relatively close and has a special relationship with Mia, thinking she might get through to the stubborn mare.
Nope. Michelle reported that she had briefly visited on Sunday to see Mia and was treated badly with those same aggressive behaviors —and she had no agenda at the time other than to say hello.
After dark, when I took Asher out for one last chance to pee for the night, I decided to give Mia one more opportunity to accept a rain sheet, more for my sake at that point than for hers. She immediately walked out into the hay field. I went so far as to walk through the muck of standing water at the bottom of the paddock to follow her, in case being out in the open, away from all the other horses, might soften her resistance.
It didn’t.
I hope she doesn’t suffer as a result of her decisions. It’s heartbreaking to be unable to help, even though I tried so many times.
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Old Horses
Even though the racing world considers January 1st the birthday for all Thoroughbreds, we still know the actual date our horses were foaled. Today, February 13th, is Mia’s real birthday. She was born in the year 2000.
Our friend, Michelle, is planning to stop by with a treat for the birthday girl later this afternoon.
All four of the horses have been pleasantly mellow lately, and we have been thoroughly enjoying their peaceful spirits.
As we lingered with the mares after feeding them yesterday morning, Cyndie and I remembered the descriptions of the desperate situation Light had been rescued from (twice!), and the level of food insecurity three of them had endured. The most critical of their physical health concerns had been addressed before they were brought to Wintervale, but their residual trauma still lingered large in the first months after they arrived.
The first day they were with us, we found them standing together in the middle of the small paddock, and even fresh apple slices we offered didn’t entice them to greet us. It looked to me like they were showing us that they had had enough of human interaction. This location was just another stop on a lifetime of being trailered to places they were forced to run, places they were forced to be bred, or eventually, to places they were neglected to near starvation.
Swings began to repeatedly pace back and forth along the paddock fence anxiously. Mix would lash out when a horse or human got too close during feeding times. Mix is also the one to react in panic whenever we’ve tried enclosing them inside the barn stalls. When we set out pans of feed for them, they rarely stayed in place, setting off a “musical chairs” rotation of moving from one pan to another to eat each other’s serving.
Over a period of years, we’ve enjoyed the blessing of witnessing their behaviors gradually normalizing as they rediscover their true equine nature.
They are so much more comfortable in their horse-ness these days. We have learned plenty along the way, adjusting our care as their responses dictate. Long ago, we ditched feed pans for buckets we hang at feeding time, always following a set pattern that positions each horse in a specific location.
Now, each time they calmly take up their positions before we bring the filled buckets out, it brings us such a feeling of appreciation. Giving them open access to the fields most of the time allows us to enjoy them choosing to stay by the security of the barn overhang or journeying out to the far reaches of the fields, depending on their whim.
On the eve of the big day of lavishing Valentine’s love on those you hold close to your hearts, I’d like to offer you a way to show some love to horses being rescued by the private, volunteer-based non-profit organization, This Old Horse, through a link to their donation page:
DONATE
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We donate our fields, facilities, and time and labor caring for Swings, Mia, Light, & Mix, but This Old Horse covers the costs of hay and feed, maintaining their hooves, routine checkups, and as-needed vet visits. If you have it in your heart to help give horses a chance to live out their days with dignity and surrounded by love, this is a truly deserving organization. ❤️
Oh, and tip your hat to our Mia as she reaches 26 years old today! Momma Mia!
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Softer Days
Winter has loosened its icy grip by about 35-40° (F) [think about going from 20-below to 20 above], providing the horses with a break from blankets for a little bit. Mia’s regular blanket went back on for a while because overnight temperatures were still dipping into the single digits. I’m guessing she might be able to go “au naturel” again later today.
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The last few mornings have been a lot less stressful without the body’s natural tendency to stiffen in defense against the wicked Arctic cold we were facing last week. The first minutes of sunshine not only painted the horses in a golden glow, but it also made the labyrinth look pretty grand, too.
The low angle of light made for quite a shadow show. The days around the full moon on the 1st were just begging for us to get out and do a moonlight circumnavigation of the labyrinth, but remaining warm beneath the layers of blankets on our bed won out every time.
When Cyndie stepped out to give Asher one last chance to pee before we all turned in, she captured a view of the evening sky and moon-illuminated landscape at 8:00 p.m. on Monday.
It’s hard to know for sure how long this softer version of winter will last, but we will not be taking it for granted. I got my car in for scheduled maintenance yesterday, and it was warm enough that they were able to include their complimentary car wash, which I always perceive as a cherry on top of an otherwise dreary responsibility.
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Silent Communication
The morning started out like most every other with a walk through the woods with Asher that brought us to the barn to feed the horses. Cyndie put out feed buckets, and I wandered around cleaning up manure. Then Mia walked away from her bucket and made her way over to where I was working.
The fact that she walked away before eating everything in the bucket wasn’t something new for her. Neither was the fact that she approached me, really, even though she is the least social most of the time. Mia lives in her own world to a degree, and we are getting used to her acting on a unique agenda.
Something about her behavior yesterday morning struck me differently. I paused what I was doing and stood waiting to see what she would do next. Mia moved her body so close to mine that I could touch my forehead to her side with barely a lean.
The sound of her digestive process was rumbling beneath her blanket. She was completely calm. I quieted my mind and longed to perceive something she might be telling me.
I got nothing.
When I tried putting a hand under her blanket to check her warmth, she let me know that wasn’t welcome with a turn of her head and her characteristic nip at the air. When she moved again to leave me standing squarely behind her, I opted to go back to what I was doing.
I wasn’t able to shake the feeling that she was silently communicating something to me, so when I finished all my tasks, I returned to where she was standing, leaving enough space to show respect. Mia looked my way, noticed I was without any tools, and returned her head to look forward.
She was definitely operating on her own terms. Eventually, while I stood silently nearby, she slowly moved her body so that she was right up against me again. I willed myself to sense something physically in my body or a thought or vision in my mind.
I got nothing.
Whatever Mia might have been telling me, I wasn’t picking it up. When I finally wandered away toward the house for breakfast, I was left with a feeling that we had shared something, even though I had no idea what.
Maybe she was merely giving me credit for trying.
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Relative Something 