Posts Tagged ‘Delilah’
Rinse, Repeat
February is beginning to feel like a lot of the same thing over and over again for me. It’s all good, so I don’t want to complain, but I’m finding myself increasingly thinking that a little more variety in the weather would be nice. I need to be careful what I wish for, or I could end up facing the kind of epic weather that Boston has been enduring.
To keep things interesting, I have taken to purposefully trying to widen the trails Delilah and I walk everyday, by tromping down the edges on each side so it becomes about 3-times wider than just a single person walking footpath. Most places that is pretty simple to do, but out in the open the trail keeps getting obliterated by drifting snow. It’s like starting over each time when I run into drifts, and it packs down on top of the previous path, so the trail gets higher and higher instead of deeper. If you step too close to the edge, it becomes a dramatic drop through all the unpacked snow to a level much below the packed trail.
Delilah doesn’t like to walk in the drifts, so when we come to them she will move over to a nearby ridge and trot along easily as I bullheadedly try to forge my way straight through the deepest part. I’m sure we make quite a sight.
The later sunsets are becoming very noticeable now and even though it is still very cold, the added light seems to be enticing the animals toward shedding already. Information about Delilah’s breed, Belgian Tervuren Shepherd, suggests she should be brushed weekly, which I don’t come close to achieving. We prefer brushing her outdoors because it creates a blizzard of dog hair, but it isn’t much fun in the extreme cold.
I tried to do just a small bit inside, grabbing hair off the brush at every stroke, but soon the air flowing through our heat vents was carrying stray hairs aloft in spectacular numbers. One of those comical disasters.
Can you see Legacy’s breath in the cold air?
Unlike this picture, the horses are currently wearing their blankets. I think Legacy’s blanket is really bugging him. I keep spotting him trying to scratch his itches and he hooks the blanket on everything possible, making it look like he is trying to rip it off. He rarely tolerates me putting hands on him, but the other day he leaned hard into my hand as I scratched his neck and chin for him. There was plenty of hair floating loose, so I think the horses are on the verge of changing their coats.
Other than issues of shedding, our routine is on repeat from the day before, and the week before that. Walk the dog, feed the horses, clean up after the horses.
Not that I’m complaining, mind you.
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Soul Collages
On Saturday, our friend Julie came over, despite the frigid outdoor temperatures. We were able to go for a short walk and then visited the horses twice, but the majority of time was spent indoors. Spontaneous inspired conversation blossomed and we soon found ourselves watching a prized “TED talk” video of Brené Brown giving her Power of Vulnerability speech. If you have never watched/listened to this talk, I hope you will find a way to claim 20 minutes and click the link. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
“The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. They didn’t talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating — as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, “I love you” first…”
Later, Cyndie was thrilled for the opportunity to go into the basement and pull out her extensive collection of crafting resources in order for us to make individual soul collages. We were in a mode of being mindful and in the moment, and this was an exercise in creating a collage that captures and reflects messages both from and for our soul.
Delilah was so thrilled with Julie’s presence, she made every effort to be near her. You can see in this image that she had laid down to nap, making sure to hold a paw in contact with the tray Julie was using.
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We shared a couple meals of great food and strengthened our bonds of precious positive energy and inspirations. In what felt like just a blink of an eye, evening arrived and our day with Julie was over.
Now, two days later, what is lingering with me from the day is having been able to again re-watch Brené Brown’s message. There is a good portion of it that resonates with the depressive tendencies in me.
It’s too good not to include an additional excerpt, but please, if you at all can, do watch her give this talk. She describes her research with wonderful humor and the insights she uncovers are valuable and revealing.
“We live in a vulnerable world. And one of the ways we deal with it is we numb vulnerability. …you cannot selectively numb emotion. You can’t say, here’s the bad stuff. Here’s vulnerability, here’s grief, here’s shame, here’s fear, here’s disappointment. I don’t want to feel these… You can’t numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness. And then we are miserable…”
Here’s to embracing our vulnerability, and to sending love into the world with our whole hearts, despite a lack of any guarantees.
Thanks, Julie, for blessing us with your presence for the day! We love you!
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Never Question
Well, we have another classic canine carnivore story for Delilah’s scrapbook. I don’t know why I ever question her nose. Over and over again she has keyed on something when I see absolutely no evidence to support her suddenly manic focus. My tendency to doubt her level of excitement comes from the endless number of times she has torn up a good part of our grass in her quest for a mole or pocket gopher, and come up with nothing but a dirty nose and messy yard.
However, each time she surprises me with an unexpected success, I am led to believe the likelihood of a critter having been mere centimeters away from her bite all the other times is probably high.
Monday, it was her tenacity that had me fascinated enough to give her all the time she wanted as I stood patiently and observed. We were almost back to the house after a long walk around the property when she inexplicably diverted off the trail through some trees. There were no tracks in the snow and her nose wasn’t to the ground, so I couldn’t tell why she was straying course.
There was a portion of a tree trunk coming out of the ground at an angle that had been cut off about 5 feet up. The amount of bark that was sloughing off indicated there wasn’t much life to it. Wait a minute, that’s the wrong way to describe it, because according to Delilah, there was definitely some life there.
She got increasingly worked up over her find and searched for some access to the prize her nose indicated was inside. She started peeling the bark off, getting a flap in her teeth and ripping it loose, then spitting it out emphatically before going back for another piece.
There were two knot holes where branches had once been that she could stick her nose in while balancing on her hind legs. Doing so just fueled her zest for this conquest. There was definitely something in there.
I walked over to get a closer look. Sure enough, when Delilah put her nose in one hole, I spotted the face of a mouse as it peeked out of the other hole. I think it saw me and decided to retreat in hopes of riding out the attack.
Had Delilah seriously smelled this mouse from over on the trail? I can see why this breed is often used in police work for bomb or drug sniffing. Something kept her fixated on harassing that tree until the rodent had no other choice but to bail and make a run for it.
There was a frantic scramble as both creatures dashed, turned, leaped, and ran, but Delilah got her prize in the end after the mouse made an oddly fatal decision to loop back and head directly toward Delilah’s menacing jaws.
Yesterday, I gave her a chance to return to the scene, curious as to whether she would show the same interest. Nope. Not this time. I guess that tells me there were no more mice in there. I’m sure her nose would have brought on a much different response if it had been otherwise.
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Seriously, Horses
Not all that long ago I was living in a suburb of the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul, in Minnesota, where my wife and I raised our children, and I was driving a mere 11 miles to a day-job that occupied my weekdays. As often as I could, I would participate in team sports with a couple gangs of like-minded friends, playing soccer and floorball for fun and exercise. I can honestly say I had no idea about the changes that lie ahead for me.
Seriously. Horses?
Turned out, yes, horses.
Now I find myself spending each day tending to our herd of 4 horses. In a short time I have gone from having no experience with horses to having a personal relationship with 4 of them.
Last week there was one night when the temperature dipped below zero, and it felt even colder due to a brisk wind. I gave the horses a night inside the barn.
We usually move them in one at a time using a lead rope temporarily draped around their neck. I succeeded without incident with Legacy and Dezirea. As I attempted to bring Cayenne in, Hunter quick-stepped his way through the gate before I could push it closed behind her, getting past Cayenne as I held her in place with the rope.
She did well to remain calm and respect my control as he entered her stall despite my verbal objections. He went straight to the feed bucket in there and chomped up a mouthful. I stood at the opening to her stall with her on my right shoulder and tried talking him out of there. My mind raced through options.
It wouldn’t be the first time we swapped their positions because of something like this, if I just put Cayenne in Hunter’s stall. My intuition moved me to do otherwise. Risking potential disaster, I walked Cayenne into the stall along with him. She went right for her feed as if he wasn’t in there, basically wedging him against the back wall. He looked totally stunned.
Suddenly he went from the frisky little “I can do whatever I want” guy to looking like a confused child. Since Cayenne was ignoring him, I stepped in to push her butt over so he had space to exit, which he did without hesitation. Hunter rushed out of her stall and headed directly into his own, appearing very happy for the opportunity.
For some reason, I don’t feel a tendency toward panic when things don’t go the way I intend with the horses, which may just be a function of my relative naiveté. I give credit for some of my control to Dunia and Cyndie for the horse wisdom they have provided me. It also helps that I have the benefit of daily interaction with our herd. Our horses seem to recognize my contributions of serving up their input and cleaning up their output, and demonstrate total comfort with my presence in their midst.
Yesterday, Cayenne came to me as I exited the paddock through a gate while holding Delilah on a leash. Similar to the precious shared moment she gave me a while back, Cayenne pushed her cheek into mine and we lingered together, breathing in each other’s smell while Delilah patiently waited her own turn for my attention.
My life has changed a lot from 4 years ago, and I couldn’t be more honored to be doing what I do now.
Yeah, horses. Seriously.
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Winter Comfort
Yesterday was the “day after” our little snow event and the sun was shining, birds were singing, and the chilling wind just didn’t feel all that cold. Much to my dismay, my little pocket camera only had enough battery power for a couple of pictures in the beautiful light of the rising sun, before it said goodbye and powered down.
The scenery was extra special with the powdery snow crystals glimmering in the early sunshine. Very few animals had ventured out yet, so Delilah spent most of our first perimeter patrol of the day fervently checking the scent of the tracks she had made in the snow the night before.
After breakfast, we headed outside to do some shoveling to tidy up the edges of the plowed areas I’d done in the dark Tuesday night, and then tackled the nooks of the shop and the barn that the plow doesn’t get. When I say, “we,” I mean that Delilah stands guard on her leash nearby while I do all the work.
She is a pretty sweet partner. Twice I looked up to discover that she had found a frozen mouse that I had unceremoniously tossed out of traps in the house garage and the shop, days or weeks earlier.
My “toss” is an attempt to get them to land well into the trees, but if you have ever tried flinging a mouse out of a trap without handling it, more often than not, somehow the motion of ejecting it counters the swing meant to make it land far away. It then flops down almost at my feet. Not my proudest moments.
The unquestionable highlight of the day came after I had finished shoveling and switched to scooping up manure in the paddock. By this time, I figured Delilah was on the brink of having had enough of not being the center of my attention, but I wanted to get the chore done before heading in for lunch.
The horses were out in the hay-field, soaking up the bright sunshine and Delilah had squeezed under the wood paddock fence from where I had hung the handle of her retractable leash, scouting out the poo piles. It was feeling about as comfortable as a winter day can get. Soon the horses began laying down for a nap.
They had moved into two groups of two, with a short distance between them. One horse in each group stayed standing while the other two lounged on the snowy ground. I love witnessing this routine. In minutes, I looked again and saw that a third horse had joined the two lying down.
Next time I looked up, they were all on the ground. My clomping and clanking of the wheelbarrow and tools didn’t seem to disturb them a bit. Then I spotted Delilah. She was joining them in a solar snooze, head down and eyes shut, sleeping on the snow in the paddock.
It was so serene I was tempted to lie right down and join them.
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Still Winter
Our general region has had it pretty easy as far as weather goes this winter, especially as compared to the heavy snowfall events that have occurred in the northeast of the US. We’ve had less snow and warmer temperatures than usual. But the past doesn’t define the future. It’s still winter, and yesterday we enjoyed a return of both snow and cold.
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With the temps low, the snow crystals were perfect and we received about 2 inches of wonderful powder snow that came floating down in a windless calm. The woods took on a mystical appearance with snow cradled in every “Y” of all the branches.
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As is typical for our horses, they stood out in the middle of the hay-field during the heaviest snowfall. I coaxed them back under the overhang by bringing some loose hay and putting it on top of the slow-feeder grates. It probably would have been wise to put their blankets on prior to the snow, but they aren’t showing any signs of having a problem with the relatively small amount of precipitation.
Poor Cyndie had to endure a prolonged evening commute as a result of the backed up traffic, but that gave me a chance to get the driveway plowed before she got home. Since the snow was dry and light, that chore was a breeze.
I was walking Delilah when I decided the precipitation had slowed enough to justify some shoveling and plowing. She sat calmly while I shoveled the front steps, walkway, and apron in front of the garage doors. Then she began to demonstrate an interest in moving on. I willingly accommodated her since it was already past her usual dinner time, setting the shovel down to head indoors.
I still wanted to get to the plowing, so I left my jacket on and rushed to put food in her bowl, before heading back out. I figured she should be fine on her own while I worked.
When I opened the door 45-minutes later, I found her laying right inside of it. She looked uncharacteristically subdued. Then I noticed food in her bowl. That is an anomaly. I worried that something was wrong with her and bent down to give her some love and attention. As I stood up to remove my outdoor gear, she got up and walked over to eat everything in her bowl.
To my great surprise, she chose to wait by the door for my return rather than eat her food! I had no idea. It does add meaning to a behavior I have noticed during our routine of coming in the door after a walk. I make her wait in the entryway with me while I remove her leash harness and blaze-orange vest. Then I tell her, “Okay,” as a release to run off and do whatever is tempting her more: chase Pequenita the cat or madly chomp on any available squeaky toy.
I’ve noticed that she doesn’t run off until she sees me taking off enough outdoor wear to feel satisfied I will be staying inside along with her.
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Gruesome Find
Eventually, all the clues began to make sense. Not a day goes by that Delilah doesn’t find something outside our windows that drives her into a barking frenzy. Nine times out of ten, it is beyond me to identify what has triggered her reaction. If it’s squirrels, they are long gone by the time I arrive. If it is gunshots or thunder, she hears it long before I am able.
Yesterday, Delilah began to go nuts with the barking. Attempts to distract and calm her seemed futile. Minutes later, Elysa and Anne stepped in the door announcing their arrival for a visit. Was Delilah barking at them? I was willing to believe it.
As the afternoon wore on, we headed outside to spend some time with the horses. We found them uncharacteristically jumpy. I tried several times to brush the remaining snow off their backs, but not one of them stood still long enough for me to finish. The wind was gusting a bit, so we thought maybe that was making them uneasy. It gave us an excuse to move on toward the pasture to toss discs for Delilah to chase.
Out in the open, the wind was cold enough to drive us onward so we headed for the trail in the woods. I had already traveled this trail earlier in the day with Delilah when we did our usual morning patrol after feeding the horses. We had enough snow overnight to just cover the ground, so it was easy to spot recent tracks along the trail. There were very few at that earlier hour.
As the four of us walked along with Delilah, it was easy to spot something laying on the trail up ahead. My first thought was that the wind had knocked down a tree branch, but what my eye was seeing looked larger than a typical fallen branch.
Yep. Not a branch.
It was the largest limb from a carcass that I had ever come upon. My guess: it was the leg of a cow and coyotes were likely to blame. Why one or more of them had dropped this leg in the middle of our trail is a mystery to me. Of course, it was a prize beyond Delilah’s wildest dream. It was too much for her to carry, so I picked up the frozen leg and carried it for her.
She didn’t know what to do. Walk in front of me? Walk behind me? Jump up and bite it while I walked? We made our way back to the house where I left it on the ground for her to gnaw on. She instantly morphed into one of the pack.
Based on the size of this limb, I’m expecting to see the local coyote hunters busy at work around here in the near future. Farmers aren’t very patient when their livestock are being culled by predators. For those with sensitivities about such images, I am including this shot as a thumbnail to give readers an option of viewing it or not. Click per your personal tolerance for the gruesome, but natural, cycle of life involving wild carnivorous animals.
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In Between
Lately, it feels like things here at Wintervale are in a state of being between, in a variety of ways. In large part, I think it is a function of the time of year and the type of weather we have been experiencing. The big blizzard in the northeast of the US has been the main focus of weather-related news. Here, we have had very little in the way of newsworthy winter weather. I have been able to carry on with my daily activities relatively unaffected with needing to plow and shovel snow.
After that long cold spell ended, caring for the horses has gotten a lot more relaxed. They have required little in the way of care beyond their twice a day feeding sessions and some limited paddock cleaning. I can only do so much in the way of manure management when the paddocks are frozen solid.
My daily patrols with Delilah have begun to get a little too routine, so I have started looking for ways to mix things up for her. After already having switched up the route in every way imaginable, I tried letting her choose her own path through the thick interior of our woods beyond the trail, while keeping her leashed. That meant I needed to follow as she explored through trees that I could barely maneuver. I suppose it ended up being more invigorating for me that it was for her.
Yesterday, I decided to bring along a new toy of hers that Cyndie recently brought home. Delilah had quickly accomplished beheading it to rip out the stuffing and chew the plastic squeaker. I brought the colorful remains along on our walk and periodically dropped it out of her sight while she was otherwise occupied. Then I would stop her and give the command to find her toy using her nose.
This game of having her hunt down things we hide, by tracking the scent, is as much fun for us to witness as it appears to be for her to play. It has the added benefit of keeping her attention focused on our place and not on the neighboring properties that she would prefer to explore. Those wild animal smells she keeps picking up are coming from somewhere nearby, she seems to assume.
There’s something even bigger that feels in between for me. We are in our third winter on this property, and after taking on some significant projects to improve the infrastructure supporting our horses during the first two years, we have taken a pause. There are still projects to be accomplished, but they aren’t so urgent.
At the same time, we have delayed taking some essential steps toward formalizing the equine training Cyndie wants to offer, which remains an ultimate goal. Her hip problem was a big contributor to our reasons for waiting, and now we will be in a period of rehabilitation for a while.
We are in a time between the busy activity of our initial efforts, and the point of actually offering training sessions to paying clients. The fact that this is on my mind tells me a next new phase of planning is likely to happen soon.
In the mean time, it will serve me well to allow myself to accept this period of being between. I want to enjoy the everyday moments of apparent stasis. I expect to find myself missing this when things begin to thaw and days become filled with more to be done than time allows.
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A Saturday
Yesterday was another warm winter day for us. There was a hint of fogginess out the window when morning darkness faded, which suggested that moisture was breaking loose from the confines of ice and snow. Cyndie gifted me a chance to linger in bed by tending the morning routine of taking Delilah out and feeding the horses.
I was able to return the gesture after I got up, as she laid back down to read and put herself back into sleep mode, falling into a late-morning nap. I cleaned the kitchen of the tools she had used to whip up a delectable batch of fresh blueberry muffins, and then took Delilah outside where I was planning to play lumberjack.
It was warm, and the hint of fogginess was becoming just plain fog. I had chosen an over-shirt instead of a jacket, but it was too much for me at the get go. I even opened the front of my flannel shirt to cool down as I carried the chainsaw from the shop to the woods behind the house. I was going to cut up more of the limbs of broken trees that litter the hill below the wood shed.
Cyndie has asked me to refrain from using the chainsaw when I am alone during the week, so Saturday becomes my first chance. Despite the likelihood I was about to shatter her nap, I wanted to take full advantage of my opportunity without further delay. The morning was quickly fading.
The fog was beginning to fade, too. I glanced up from my labor to catch the sun beginning to appear, looking a lot more like a typical view of the moon.
Eventually, Cyndie came out to join me and help process wood that has remained piled here for a couple of years. I now have plenty of wood ready for splitting, a chore I have permission to do when I am home alone.
By early afternoon, the air had cleared and there was so much sun and blue sky that I had long since shed the flannel shirt and the horses were laying in the snow. I got the impression they were too hot to exert themselves with any effort, and the cool snow felt good against their bodies.
It felt like a perfect Saturday scene. One that I will remember and revisit when I get back to toiling away at the splitter during the week ahead.
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Few Photos
Our friend, Ian, was hoping for photos of our frolicking with the dog and horses… The weather yesterday was particularly warm and very sunny, but the horses weren’t in much of a frolicking mood. It was so serene that I think they were lulled into an irreversible calm.
It was quality time for all, regardless. Cyndie brought out her camera and captured some of the action. I unclipped Delilah to play a little “Oblio and Arrow Triangle Toss.” I’m pretty sure we won.
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We then mingled with the horses.
Except for an occasional outburst from someone’s dog down the valley, it was amazingly quiet outside. The fact that the Green Bay Packers were playing in the NFC Championship game at that hour may have contributed to the absence of any outdoor activity. The barking dog was irresistible to Delilah, so to keep her from running off to answer its call, I had to reconnect her leash after we finished our play. We wandered up to the horses, who had moved to the shade of the barn overhang to get out of the hot sun.
Or maybe it was to eat hay.
I crouched down to mediate potential interaction between the horses and Delilah, then snapped a shot of the view Delilah sees when she looks up at Legacy. I can see why she is a little intimidated.
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Everyone was very calm and relaxed during our visit. I think it helped to burn some of Delilah’s extra energy before our interaction with the horses at such close proximity. It is nice to spend time in the horse’s space when we have no actual demands to ask of them. We just lingered together and that was enough.
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Relative Something 