Posts Tagged ‘Delilah’
Momentary Bliss
We had some blissful moments yesterday, working in the paddocks and round pen with the horses grazing around us. Cyndie decided to allow Delilah to accompany us, off-leash. That exercise went surprisingly well, until it didn’t. More on that, later.
Like happens so many times around here, I set off with one project in mind, and then found myself drawn to work on another. I was intending to cut down some small trees in the recently cut field north of the driveway where the brush cutter wasn’t able to mow. I never made it out there. The allure of the herd was just too great.
I needed to stop by the paddocks, because I had offered to bring in the wheelbarrow for Cyndie to harvest the latest crop of fertilizer. That’s when I noticed that Cyndie had included the gate to the round pen when she opened up the gates to grazing fields after she fed the horses earlier in the morning. While we have been busy with other things, the dirt of our round pen area has been getting overgrown with grass. They have been grazing the area around the pen, but the grass inside was untouched. Horses to the rescue!
Cayenne was the only horse inside the pen, when I showed up. I decided I wanted to pick up where I had left off last week on the task of turning over the soil in the round pen while the horses were around. It didn’t take long for the other horses to notice my presence, and in no time, I had 4 helpers. With all 5 of us inside the round pen together, Cyndie came over to take a picture:
After a break for lunch, I moved just outside the round pen to cut down growth that had sprouted from a stump left over from last fall’s project to clear that area. Delilah was with me, alternating between being entirely fascinated with piles of poop she came across, and digging and chewing on the stump and sprouts I was cutting.
Once again, the horses moseyed over to graze right beside where I was working. I looked up at one point and paused to absorb the bliss of Delilah nosing around in the grass among the four grazing horses, beside Cyndie and I toiling away on our respective tasks. Delilah had had a spectacular day off-leash. Cyndie had walked her up and down the driveway, practicing commands and rewarding her with treats. Delilah had stayed close to Cyndie, following her commands, when Cyndie was cleaning the paddocks.
At one point, Delilah and Hunter greeted each other, nose to nose, with no adverse reaction from either of them. Cyndie and I instantly shared the same hope that those two might somehow become fast friends. Delilah continued to receive treats rewarding her good behavior and the horses remained calm despite the dog wandering among them. We were enjoying things working the way we envisioned they could.
I have no idea what changed. Maybe it was that Delilah still has a lot of puppy in her, and just couldn’t hold herself any longer. She wanted to play a game of chase, and the horses make such irresistible targets. While Cyndie and I hollered at Delilah, the pursuit spun around the outside of the round pen fence. With me brandishing a shovel and Cyndie, a rake, we eventually collared the dog to put an abrupt end to the disruption, and an instant revocation of Delilah’s off-leash liberties.
Realizing how quickly things can go awry is probably why the moments of perfect harmony seem so incredibly blissful.
Important Lesson
Legacy is showing signs of growing a bit shaggier in preparation for the onset of winter weather. That same growth hasn’t been as noticeable on the others yet. “Legs” doesn’t hesitate for a second to walk over to the fence to command our attention when there is something he wants. On this day, he was getting tired of being wet, and wanted to go in the barn for the rest of the evening. It was the day Cyndie returned home, so we were able to give them all a chance to get dry.
I don’t like it when he approaches when I am not at a gate. The top wire and the third wire are electrified. We have not witnessed them getting shocked by the fence yet, but I’m confident they know about it, one way or another. Still, I don’t want him to accidentally get bit by it when he is focused on communicating with us and neglecting to pay attention to the fence between. I would rather it happen only when he is being mischievous with the perimeter of his confines.
Last night, well after dark, I was walking Delilah on a leash and Cyndie was putting hay out for the horses as she was bringing them in from the big field for the night. We were up the driveway a bit, and Delilah noticed Cyndie’s head lamp moving about in the distance. The dog walked up to the fence to investigate, but got too close and received a shock. She let out a series of yelps as she ran off in a circle around me.
That scared the horses and they ran out of the paddock before Cyndie had gotten the gate closed.
It was the second night in a row that Cyndie was caught in the darkness when the herd startled and ran away in a thundering escape. She said the previous night was a result of some exclamation I made up at the house when I stepped out the door to greet our single surprise Trick-or-Treat visitors. Oops! I got so excited I scared the horses.
They were neighbors we hadn’t met yet, who took advantage of Halloween to come up and say hi, so I was thrilled.
Our horses are showing signs of being comfortable with their new home, but they continue to be quick to exercise their emergency response reactions. Cyndie is learning to make sure she is highly visible when she is inside the paddocks with them after darkness has set in. That’s an important lesson, because I don’t think I can be trusted to keep from doing something that might end up startling the herd while she’s in there.
Mostly Unscathed
It is finally the last day of October. What took it so long to get here? Geesh. Trick or treat?
I was thinking it would be fun to do a surprising reversal of tradition and visit all our neighbors on this day to ring their doorbell and offer them a treat from us. Great idea, huh? Too bad that is all it is: an idea. I thought of it while tending to the animal-care chores all by myself during the time Cyndie has been out-of-town. Were she here, I could have tested the idea on her, whereupon she would become inspired to bake something incredible, and then the treat-full trick would be on.
Ah, but Cyndie is home now and the animals get to receive her masterful attention once again. I am happy to report that they all survived, mostly unscathed, under my care. The “lowlight” of the time I was the sole care giver was the morning I brought Delilah with me to the barn to feed the horses. She had been so good the day before, I figured she deserved a day off-leash. I had it in mind to do some work that would accommodate her roaming in the vicinity.
I left her enclosed in the barn while I was out under the overhang with the horses. I walked across the paddock to open a gate to the big field so the horses could wander out there after gulping down their feed. The “chestnut-three” were particularly squirrelly during the feeding, startling each other and doing their merry-go-round rotation of chasing each other off the feed pans.
Unbeknownst to me, Delilah was picking up on this through the wall of the barn. I shrugged it off. I had the gates opened that I wanted open, the feed distributed; my work was done here. I was prepared to take Delilah and move on to the next project I had planned. I was not attuned properly to our dog.
I cracked the barn door open enough to step out and Delilah bolted like she was shot from a cannon. She bee-lined a circle around the barn to where the horses were eating, despite my hollering to stop her. If none of the horses had moved a muscle, she would have barked a lot, but nothing would come of it, but the chestnuts were already on edge from their own shenanigans, so they jumped and ran when Delilah showed up. The chase was on.
It is such a helpless feeling when Delilah tunes us out and goes into predator mode. I shouted, the horses neighed, bucked, ran, and kicked, and Delilah barked and chased. The only result of that formula is escalation. Two of the horses headed out into the big field, but that just inspired Delilah more. She picked one out and stayed right on its heels. In the frantic moment, I wasn’t able to notice which horses she was picking on. Luckily, whoever it was, they ran back into the paddock again and I was eventually able to reclaim the dog’s attention and get her to come out of there. I unleashed my meanest alpha dog routine and rescinded her chance at frolicking off-leash that day.
After I put Delilah in her kennel, I returned to the horses to give them my humble apologies. They seemed to have already forgotten the incident. In fact, it appeared to have helped settled down the chestnuts, as they finally parked themselves, each at one of the 4 feed pans, and were now calmly munching away.
Here are a couple of shots from two distinctly different days:
Flying Solo
For the first time since the horses arrived, I am home alone while Cyndie is out of town. I am trying to keep calm and project a positive confidence, but… oh. my. god.
So far, so good. Our animals are eating the food I cook, er… serve. I know I don’t do things the way Cyndie does, but so far, the dog and horses are politely tolerating my methods. We’ll see how patient they are with me after a few days without Cyndie around.
The cats behave like cats, and take care of themselves for the most part. Speaking of cats, it was over a week ago now that I spotted a white and gray cat beneath our bedroom window, savagely dining on a very recently deceased rabbit. A rather graphic depiction of the circle of life. I don’t know whether that cat gets credit for the kill, or if it was some other critter. If it was Delilah, I don’t think she would have parted with it long enough for the cat to have access.
Whoever it was, the cat didn’t get a chance for seconds after its first meal, because Delilah did find the carcass and had her way with what remained of it, making sure to show everyone around that she had a special prize.
Delilah and I are already missing Cyndie’s extraordinary skills of removing burrs. My skills seem to be in the realm of getting Delilah into more burrs. Yesterday afternoon, we were down by the labyrinth garden and I was clearing a path into the woods nearby that will meet with an old trail we plan to clear and re-open. Then I wandered over to do a little work on a tree that had fallen back in May, when the late-season heavy snow storm hit.
Delilah was exploring everywhere in the area, occasionally stopping by me to bite on a branch as if to help. By the time we got back to the house, she had some burrs that I haven’t seen before. I brushed her for a while, and then we had burrs on the floor, burrs stuck to my shirt, a pile on the table, and some on the counter.
As I was getting ready for bed, I discovered I brought back one more thing from my chores by the labyrinth: a tick. I think it was smaller than a regular wood tick, so that could mean the dreaded deer tick. Unfortunately, he/she was attached and dining on me. That’s the first bite I’ve had in the year we have been here, which I consider pretty good luck. None of our activities here fall under the guidelines of ways to avoid ticks. I was bound to run into this sooner or later.
It gives me something to tell Cyndie about, since I don’t plan to have anything newsworthy to report about the horses or Delilah. Now I gotta get back to work, tending to animals. There is no copilot available to cover for me for a few days.
Clandestine Surveillance
Have you noticed the headlines in the news lately about a number of national governments expressing outrage over the revelation that the U.S. is spying on them? I suppose it is the politically correct reaction, to publicly complain about being violated in such a way, but come on, it’s spying. Clandestine surveillance is likely happening everywhere, from every direction, so I find it humorous to read the protestations that sound like they are shocked and upset to learn that it is happening.
How do you demand that other people not spy on you? Spying is not something that is done by permission.
I fully expect that other countries are using whatever technique they possibly can to collect information on the United States. It’s what countries do. Heck, it’s what people do. Our neighbors have admitted that they spy on us.
If they were watching yesterday, they would have noticed Delilah helping me choose what to split next from the pile of cut logs by the shed. They should have noticed the FedEx truck come up our driveway. Weber grills customer service sent us a replacement regulator for our grill. Delilah got some doggy treats from the friendly driver.
Maybe they even noticed that we got a package in our mailbox. My two new pairs of work pants arrived. I needed to order some with a smaller waist, because all the activity we do around this place is burning more calories than I have been consuming.
Of course, all of this information is private, so if you are secretly reading this, then you are spying, too.
Maybe the next time I lose track of where Delilah wandered off to when we are letting her run off-leash, I should ask the neighbors which way she went.
Too Fun
It is a good thing that I chose the 8-cubic-foot sized wheelbarrow when I recently shopped for one with two wheels. Anything smaller and we would be making a lot more trips in and out of the paddocks to dump it, and anything larger and we wouldn’t be able to push it when it was full. I have been removing between 16 and 24 cubic feet of manure at a time, every few days, when I get around to tending to the task. When that wheelbarrow is full, it is very heavy to push.
Unfortunately, my grip is failing me, which doesn’t help when moving a heavy wheelbarrow, because the inflammation through my carpal tunnel (both left and right) is raging day and night lately. It seems that everything I do is an irritant, and my thumb and first two fingers go numb when typing on a keypad, when gripping a rake or shovel, scooping manure, moving the wheelbarrow, holding a steering wheel, gripping the wood splitter, or sleeping at night. It even bothered me while trying to hold a fork during dinner last night.
One would hope that the sleeping wouldn’t be a problem, because my doctor prescribed wrist braces to keep the hands in a neutral position all night, but 4 o’clock in the morning is a time when the pain and numbness seems to bother me the most.
It probably doesn’t help that I have started to frequently throw a ball for Delilah to find. My arm is killing me from repeated attempts to throw farther than I am realistically capable. But hope springs eternal, and I continue trying to throw that thing as hard as I can. It is just so irresistible to watch Delilah use her nose to hunt the ball down, returning so proud when she comes back to me with it clenched in her jaw.
It took her a while to get the hang of the game, but now she behaves as if she understands exactly what I am saying. If she didn’t see where I threw it, I tell her she needs to find it with her nose, and she will start traversing back and forth across the yard in front of me, nose to the ground, as fast as she possibly can. At first, I would just throw into the mowed grass, but I quickly increased the difficulty by throwing into the woods. It boggles my mind that she can find it in there, especially when she has lost track of what direction I threw toward. I will go back to splitting wood while she hunts, often expecting she will never find it, and then suddenly, she is at my feet, with that ball in her mouth, hoping I will throw it again.
It is a game that has become too much fun for both of us.
Partial Accomplishments
It was kind of a slow day yesterday at Wintervale. We are approaching the first freezing overnight temperatures, so it is time to pull the pump out of our little landscape pond, and drain all our hoses. I got part way through that project. It has been that kind of week for me. I seem to only get part way to completion on everything I choose to do.
We had some luck with Delilah behaving well, a couple of days ago, so I gave her some time off-leash. I was walking around the area that I recently mowed, on the north side of the driveway, taking measurements for future fencing, and she was having the time of her life. She was running back and forth at amazing speed. It was going so well, I offered to take her for a walk through our woods. She bolted down the trail, getting way ahead of me. When I got to a place I could see her, she was facing the neighbor’s woods, locked in on something.
I called her, but she had tuned me out, and then she darted through the rusty barbed wire fence that separates our properties. I didn’t see her again for about half an hour. Our period of lucky good behavior had come to an end. While waiting for her to come back, I killed time by pulling Buckthorn up by the roots. Upon her return, she got shuttled directly to her kennel where she spent the rest of the day.
I tried to do some work shaping the main drainage channel beyond the paddocks, but it was too soon after a recent rain, and my boots and tools became a comical mud disaster. I switched my focus to the deck, where I proceeded to dismantle our gas grill to troubleshoot a problem with gas flow. I hope it is the regulator, because I have exhausted all other logical possibilities. That’ll require a trip to the store where I bought it, to swap out that part.
As the afternoon wore on, a little sunshine appeared, so I headed down to mow the labyrinth pathways. It was still a little wet, but manageable. I guess that one did get accomplished, although it doesn’t feel like completion because, by walking the path to mow, I keep seeing all the things we still want to work on down there. I’m wondering how well it will survive the winter, and whether we will be able to walk the path throughout the complete snow season.
It wasn’t one of those dramatically rewarding days here, but that’s okay. There is something valuable to be gained from days like this. The horses have a way of dealing with things, and then just going back to grazing. At one point yesterday, I decided to go down and be by the horses, to immerse myself in that kind of energy. Being with them can provide a sense of calm.
It was good for me, but I must admit, I don’t think I could rate the visit as being anything more than just a partial accomplishment, in that regard.
Spectacular Views
Up before sunrise, to feed the horses, we are rewarded with some spectacular views. I had Delilah with me, on her leash, and needed to get into the paddock to open the far gate that provides the horses access to the big field. We were slow to get in there, and the herd was miffed that I had made them wait.
They crowded us at the gate, and Delilah got excited to be surrounded by such big, fascinating creatures. They were full of vim after eating their grain. There was a lot of movement, and some hooves were swung in Delilah’s direction, as I fumbled to hold the leash and work the chain that holds the gate.
When I finally got that gate to swing open, those horses bolted with gusto, leaping and kicking their joy. It was the most spectacular viewing of the morning!
Not Proud
Out of respect for the whole truth, I must report that it isn’t always sunshine-happy-roses here at Wintervale, despite all my blissful stories. Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie got out of her car after work, hobbling on a sprained ankle. She reported that it happened as she was squeezing out time before work that she didn’t really have, trying to walk Delilah one last time before leaving. Delilah ran off with gusto, pulling Cyndie off-balance.
With me trying to help out, doing more of the walking chores, we headed down to the barn to invite the horses into the paddock for their evening grain. I don’t know where he had been rolling, but Hunter arrived with dirt covering him, head to hoof. He was an absolute mess. Regardless the hindrance of her painful sprain, Cyndie wanted to try to clean him up. She worked her way into the paddock, with brushes and cleaning supplies.
He wasn’t interested.
She turned to Legacy, who had a fair amount of dirt on his back, giving him the option of being groomed. He didn’t seem to want to hang around, either. As we stood at the gate, after exiting, Legacy appeared to want to give us one last message. He presented his backside and lifted his tail. Message received.
We left the sorry-looking geldings to strut their muddy body art.
I dropped Cyndie off at the house and headed around back to retrieve Delilah from her kennel. Yes, she is still behaving like a puppy, despite our impression that she should be beyond portions of it now. For the second time in three days, she has ripped and de-stuffed articles of bedding. I found her insulated blanket torn open and puffs of white stuffing spread all over the place. It is so frustrating, especially when she presents such an obvious look pride for her “accomplishment.”
On Saturday, Delilah was confined to her crate in the house, while we entertained guests. She made quick work of the bed Cyndie had tossed in there while cleaning. Ever so quietly, Delilah pulled the green stuffing out of it to surround herself, before lying down to nap.
Shortly after coming inside with Delilah yesterday, as I brought a cold pack for Cyndie’s ankle, while she propped her foot up in the living room, I stepped in a pile of poop Delilah had covertly dropped on the rug the day before. That afternoon was when Elysa was over, and both she and I smelled something, but weren’t wily enough to follow our noses to the source. Discovery was delayed for 24 hours.
Maybe we can blame Delilah for all the flies in the house. There has been an epic population explosion of flies around here this summer, and now that we have an unending supply of manure, the flies are thicker than ever. With Cyndie on the couch, pointing them out, I swatted at flies in a fruitless effort to curb the infestation.
This was not one of our proudest days.
New Me
I spent most of my life in the carefree world of not needing to take care of a pet. Yesterday afternoon, as I fed four horses, then our dog, and finally, two cats, it occurred to me how much things have changed. Luckily, it seems to fit rather seamlessly into the days here, especially compared to my old life during the years we lived in our previous home. I didn’t want that kind of commitment back then, but it is proving to be a natural extension of our new routine.
The part that doesn’t fit anymore is my sitting in front of a television watching sporting events, or any program, for that matter. Lately, it has also meant not playing my guitar or mandolin, or doing much in the way of bicycling, but I hope to reclaim some of that time in the days to come. Our days are now filled with managing operations on our 20 acre ranch of fields and woods.
I miss being able to play soccer in the mornings with my friends, but I am reaping the rewards of all those years of that brilliant exercise, transferring the stamina, strength, and breathing capacity I acquired into the physical work done around our property.
The new routine appears to be burning more calories than I am consuming, so I am actually in better shape now than I have been in years. I’m hoping I will notice the difference when biking, in that I won’t be hauling as much weight up the hills.
Last night, as I moved the horses into the paddock from the open field, I had an opportunity to put into practice something that I learned from Cyndie and our friend, Dunia, at the Epona seminar they led in Arizona. The horses were loitering just outside the open gate as I arrived to encourage them to come in. Legacy, the leader, acknowledged my arrival, but made no motion to enter. If he doesn’t come in, the others won’t either.
I knew I was talking to the right guy, but he wasn’t buying what I was selling. Conventional wisdom would be to use a treat or bucket of grain to entice him to approach, but I learned another method to inspire a horse to follow me. I walked an arc in front of Legacy, back and forth, increasing my energy as I went. If you walk far enough around the horse, they will be inclined to move a hoof in a step to keep you in view. That step is the one I was looking for, because if you play that first step properly, it will lead to another, and then off I went, walking into the paddock up to the grain I had set out for them, and Legacy followed me all the way up.
On Sunday, I put into practice another essential lesson I learned at the Epona seminar in Arizona. When you approach a horse, the horse gets to set the boundary. When the horse approaches you, you get to set the boundary. When I unexpectedly found myself facing four horses running right toward me in the open field, standing with nothing but my camera in my hands, I remembered what Dunia, Cyndie, and the other leaders taught about setting my boundary.
I motioned with my hand to display an arc of my boundary in front of my body. Legacy, leading the group charge, suddenly came to a halt, just short of that virtual line I was projecting.
The person standing on that hill with those four powerful animals was not the guy I remember from a year ago. That is the new me, tending our property and caring for all our animals. It is feeling like a pretty good fit.
Relative Something 