Posts Tagged ‘feeding horses’
Ages Advance
Happy New Year!
Since it is now the year 2024 I am going to do nothing different. It’s just the way I am. Step outside and look around, it doesn’t look any different than 2023. It’s different for the horses, though.
In a tradition dating back to the 18th century (ref), thoroughbred racehorses’ ages are incremented on January 1st. New Year’s Day is a 4-x birthday at Wintervale Ranch. The months of our horses’ actual births are February, March, April, and May, but their ages are bumped up on the first day of the year to standardize all horse ages.
This puts Swings at 29.
Next oldest is Mia at 24.
Light is 21.
Mix is 20.
In a rough comparison with human ages, Mix and Light are in their early 60s. Mia around 70 and Swings over 80. The average lifespan of a thoroughbred racehorse is 25-28 and with good care and healthy life, they can live beyond 30. I don’t know how much impact the hardships our four rescues may have endured in their lives will have on their ultimate longevity but we are offering them the best care we can while they are here.
None of them are showing any sign of slowing down.
I was just noticing yesterday that we have settled into a pretty consistent feeding routine with the new buckets by splitting them into specific pairs. There has been a lot less shenanigans between them after the feed is served. We continue to deliver Mia’s feed moistened and in a flat pan. The others seem reasonably satisfied with the buckets. I like that we’ve eliminated the mess of Light stepping in and kicking over the pan as she was prone to do.
Here’s hoping they continue to enjoy their lives with us in the year ahead. They are a big part of the love energy we strive to nurture.
May you discover new and increasing amounts of love today, this new year, and always. If you choose to set new intentions at the turn of a year, consider a supernatural dose of growing and spreading love in your goals.
It fits well with our salutations of making a new year happy!
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Getting Coffee
We are not comedians and are not in cars but I’d like to pretend you and I are out together for coffee just like Jerry and his guests on his internet series, “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” I’ve been binging the series lately and it’s got me missing the days of idle banter with my various accomplices in the fine art of waxing lyrical about all manner of minutiae.
I would describe the futility of cleaning hay bale shrapnel out of winter boots.
When a new pair of boots I ordered arrived recently, I struggled to decide what to do with the old pair. They had been repaired once, but now the rubber base was cracked and ripping away from the upper leather. Feeling they were beyond repair, Cyndie advised me to throw them in the trash.
The laces were worth saving, so I pulled them out. That helped me to notice the leather was in really good shape and could be used for some future project, I was sure. I decided to cut the threads holding the leather to the rubber.
That is when I discovered how much of the nooks and crannies were filled with hay remnants. That new consciousness led me to try to empty my new boots yesterday after hauling nine bales from the hay shed over to the barn.
After dumping all the hay out of one of the new boots, I took a picture to convey the futility of trying to get it all.
A while back, I wrote about how the horses, Swings and Light, drool food over each other’s heads when they eat close beside each other. Yesterday afternoon, Asher and I showed up at the barn after Cyndie had finished serving up the feed.
Cyndie described the challenge of getting the filled buckets clipped to hang as quickly as the horses preferred. She decided to let Swings have a first and then she bent over to hook the handle of the bucket. Do you see where this is headed?
She said, “Now I have a bunch of slobbered feed pellets down my neck.”
While Asher and I were making our way along the north loop trail I was impressed by the power of the low-angled winter sunshine to melt snow despite our daytime temperature remaining below freezing all day.
Is it obvious which direction is south? In the picture, Asher is facing the direction of the setting sun. It never gets high enough to shine on the whole path, but the areas that receive direct sunlight are completely clear of snow.
Based on the present weather forecast, the rest of the snow doesn’t stand much chance, even in the shade. Temperatures will rise well above freezing for the next few days.
By the way, I don’t drink coffee. Make mine a chai latte and bring on the humorous back-and-forth wisecracking about our perceptions of this crazy world in which we live.
Say goodbye, John.
“See ya later, gator!”
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Another Choke
The new buckets for feeding the horses have been working well for me. Cyndie arrived home from a weekend away and I was excited to show off the new routine for her yesterday evening. Her ankle is still a little sensitive to the pressure applied by her winter boot, but she made a go of it and joined Asher and me in the barn.
Naturally, things didn’t go as smoothly as the last three feedings. Mia was overly anxious about moving past both Light and Mix to get across to where I’d been hanging her bucket. Instead of simply moving the strap for her bucket to where she was standing, I focused on trying to coax her over.
In hindsight, I fear we may have contributed to her subsequently inhaling her food too fast. It seemed like the horses had finally all settled down to eat. Cyndie and I were about to wrap things up, after practicing a few back-to-basics training with Asher in the barn. Then I noticed Mia had returned to the far side and she was lying down.
Uh oh. That is not normal behavior. Well, not normal for healthy, happy horses during feeding time. I looked into her bucket and verified she hadn’t even finished eating. She was rolling back and forth, getting up, then laying down again. Her early signs were mostly indicative of colic but eventually, she began coughing which is very normal behavior for having choked on her food.
When we initially suspected colic, it became important for us to get Mia up and walking. It was a bit of a trick to get a halter on her in the anxious and uncomfortable state Mia was in, but Cyndie eventually succeeded. That allowed us to attach a lead rope so I could coerce Mia into walking as a way of preventing her from lying down.
That was a little dicey for me at first because the other three horses had gotten a little jumpy and were crowding us which was making it hard for me to feel safe. Meanwhile, Mia began to cough up great blasts of air and spray I was dodging as well.
Daylight was fading, Cyndie had taken Asher back to the house, she was calling the Vet, and looking for meds that would help Mia if it was colic. I was trying not to panic and stay out of trouble while attempting to keep Mia up and walking.
As fast as the chaos started, things seemed to calm considerably. Mia’s productive coughing and the walking appeared to be easing her discomfort. The other horses decided to leave us alone and stood over by the dying willow tree. Cyndie returned with instructions from the Vet.
For the next few days, we need to monitor Mia for any after-effects. We will also return to adding water to moisten her food like I did a year ago after the first time she choked.
It’s a hassle but will be worth it to protect her from the unsettling discomfort and risks of an equine choke episode.
Horse fact: Choke in horses doesn’t interfere with the ability to breathe. So, unlike choking in people, it does not pose an immediate threat to life.
Here’s hoping Mia suffers no additional problems from yesterday’s dramatic affair.
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Incremental Improvements
We have tried a variety of solutions to address the issue of Light kicking over her feed pan with a spastic leg flex when she eats. None of them have proved to be all that effective. Recently, we came across a method that looked like it would better fit our situation. Cyndie did a little research and ordered us some new buckets and straps.
Swings took to it instantly, gleefully even.
Mix didn’t have a problem with the change, either.
This is what happens when the vendor decides to split the shipment between two of their stores…
Mia gets served with the same old feed pan as always until the fourth bucket arrives.
Light appeared to make a bit more of a fuss about it than the others, but that didn’t stop her from munching away.
At the same time, it also didn’t stop her from flexing her leg.
I kept hearing her bucket getting bounced around but I missed seeing if it was from kicking it or knocking it with her snout. Each time I looked back in her direction, she was munching away normally.
It was quickly apparent that sharing will be a lot harder to do compared to the big round pans. They can only fit one nose at a time so when Mia finished first and came over to borrow extra bites from Light, it required a lot more finesse on Mia’s part and acceptance from Light.
Based on yesterday’s first feeding, I think the buckets will work well as a solution that will produce less wasted spillage. It will take me a few tries to figure out the most efficient steps for serving up the feed in them, but I’ll come up with something.
It’s a promising step of improvement on our methodology at feeding time. I’m looking forward to perfecting the minor details.
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Our Turn
It arrived with a vengeance yesterday. It is our turn to cope with Earth’s new reality of oppressive heat waves. Tropical dew point temperatures push the high heat to feel ten degrees hotter and land us well into three-digit heat index numbers.
As with every weather extreme, the horses just seem to roll with it. We left fans on high under the overhang and they didn’t expend any more effort than necessary all day long.
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Wearing masks to give their eyes a break from the never-ending harassment from flies, they stayed in the shade where the attack of solar energy was ameliorated by a degree or two. Well, except for Mia. When we showed up to serve their evening feeding, she was out grazing in the back pasture all by herself.
Cyndie decided to walk down and offer Mia a pan in the shade which she promptly accepted. It was uncomfortably hot but not intolerable with pockets of cooler air wafting out from under the shade trees on an occasional breeze.
Asher came out with us and pounced into the woods to force squirrels into hasty retreats to the highest branches above. When horses were tended to, Asher was more than happy to return with us to lie on the cool tile floor of our air-conditioned living space.
I took advantage of avoiding outdoor work by giving in to a delicious afternoon nap in the recliner. What a privileged life we live.
I shudder to comprehend how people in places where this kind of heat lasts for months deal with nights that don’t get cool. We went down to the barn just before sunset to close things up, turn off the fans, and remove fly masks but the heat had barely budged from the peak in the afternoon.
Light was sweating, which wasn’t visible when we fed them earlier. The heat of the day was still accumulating.
Our turn dealing with the blast furnace of this over-heating planet will be mercifully short. After today things will moderate a bit and by Saturday the forecast looks almost chilly in comparison.
The horses give me a sense that they understand this and use that superpower to bolster their impressive art of coping when conditions are just plain miserable.
Our retreat to the geothermally cooled house is a less impressive method of coping, but it is oh. so. effective.
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Daily Transformation
Some mornings when I open the door and step from the barn to the space under the overhang, I discover a scene that makes me imagine the horses must have had a wild party overnight. Did they have other horses over or is all that poop from just the four of them? They must have hosted a dance from the looks of things.
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I took those pictures yesterday morning even though that mess was rather mild compared to some of the scenes I’ve come upon. I had it in my mind to post a little before and after demonstration to show the regal accommodations we provide for the horses. Before I serve their morning feed, the horses wait for me to clean up after them.
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I appreciate their patience. It gives me a feeling of being connected with them. They recognize what I am doing and cooperate by allowing me to finish before taking up positions for me to set out feed pans.
Every morning I transform their space from being a crazy mess to looking like a royal suite. Maybe that is why they decide to have parties under there every night.
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Mostly Fine
For the most part, we are good for now. The driveway is plowed, including the circle around the hay shed, allowing vehicle traffic. The weather looks to be settled for a few days of gray skies and temperatures below freezing. The thing that nags at me is that a change in either direction will produce complications I would prefer to avoid.
Here is a shot revealing the amount of pavement that has been lost to the mounds on the sides of the driveway that have gotten too high for my plow blade to be effective:
Ideally, I would plow the snow one blade width beyond the pavement to have room for the next big snowstorm.
Conversely, when temperatures climb above freezing and our snowpack begins to melt, I will be faced with a long period of water draining across the slope of pavement by the shop garage because I gave in and left a large amount of snow on the asphalt.
Water draining across that slope re-freezes most nights and becomes a real nuisance.
I suppose I could crank up the diesel tractor, scoop up the snow in the loader, and dump it on the downhill side of the pavement. I’m a little wary about the chains on the tires abusing our new asphalt. It’s like not wanting to see the first scratch in a new car’s paint.
More in the moment, this morning’s session with the horses was a delight in the magical frosty calm of a perfect winter day. After making it through the last storm without blankets, the herd seems content with their situation. They are all (mostly) dry and the footing is reasonable –not icy, not too deep or sticky.
When no vehicles were traveling past our place it was particularly calm and quiet. Not even a single neighboring dog could be heard making its usual announcement of existence.
“I’m here! It’s ME! Can you hear me barking over and over?”
After devouring their feed, the horses showed zero urgencies about switching to munching hay. There was nothing except a powerful sense of contentment.
I stood silently observing them for a few minutes before quietly making my departure toward the house for my breakfast.
For now, everything is perfectly fine.
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Coffee Carafe
It appears that the “answer” image to yesterday’s guessing game was not as revealing as I suspected. The pictures are of a thermal coffee carafe.
One thing you can be sure of, I didn’t recently become a coffee drinker. Why was I carrying the carafe with me on my walk through the woods the other day? The simple answer is that it was holding warm water for soaking Mia’s serving of cereal, but I have an insatiable urge to make short stories long.
Travel back in time with me to the bitter cold days in December when Mia experienced an episode of choking on her feed pellets. It was recommended that I soak her feed in water to soften it for her. With below-zero temperatures quickly freezing everything, I put hot tap water in the thermal carafe and brought it with me to the barn.
I’ve asked a couple of times about how long I need to continue doing this for Mia and without telling me explicitly to do it forever, the consistent advice has been to continue soaking Mia’s feed indefinitely.
To me, that seems a little like doing it forever.
I haven’t decided if I believe Mia needs her food softened from now on, but at this point, who am I to make that decision? So, thus far, I have continued to bring warm water with me when feeding the horses. On the day I decided to walk through the woods on my way to the barn, I carried the carafe with me. I set it down in the snow to take a picture of the trail where one measly branch lay across it in the snow.
When I looked down to pick up the carafe, I saw the fish-eye reflection of the trees above and experimented with a few iPhone camera pictures.
I figured a thermal coffee carafe would not be the first guess that occurred in people’s minds.
Thanks to all of you who played along on yesterday’s edition of my image-guessing challenge!
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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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Grief Grind
The confluence of stressors we’ve been facing this fall has combined to make my days a repeating pattern of responsibility that is almost more taxing mentally than it is physically. There is a possibility that I will be learning how to bake Christmas cookies this year as Cyndie’s able-bodied kitchen assistant.
One of the more painful repetitions I’m enduring is the lonesome walk to and from the barn three times a day. With Delilah gone and Cyndie unable, I am on my own –morning, noon, and night– on excursions to feed and clean up after the horses. I am curious about whether or not the horses recognize Delilah’s absence.
She didn’t have a close relationship with any of the horses, but I would think the lack of being barked at might seem refreshing for them.
Oh, how that repeated barking annoyed me. Too bad I am too grief-stricken to enjoy the serenity now available in its absence.
Being a little shorter on patience than my more happy self, horse shenanigans quickly raise my ire. I was granted some respite this morning as they cordially volunteered to assume convenient positions and stayed put to finish each of their own pans of feed. Cleaning up under the overhang is an imperfect science during extreme cold but the horses seem to understand my process and kindly grant me unhindered access.
They have grown more interested in eating hay from the boxes which is nice for me because putting an entire bale in a box is less work than filling multiple nets with a couple flakes from bales. I’m filling both for now since they still seem to prefer eating from the nets but there may be a day when just the boxes will be enough.
Probably not until the fields are green again next spring, but a guy can hope. Maybe by then, my heart won’t be so broken over losing Delilah and Cyndie will be able to walk on both feet.
Surviving the grind of fresh grief is helped by envisioning the future time when immediate stressors have abated. In the meantime, it’s one foot in front of the other.
My daily grief grind.
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Relative Something 