Posts Tagged ‘grazing’
Independent Streak
It would be fair to say that each of our four horses demonstrates a bit of an independent streak on occasion, but Mix often stands out from the others for more reasons than just her coloring. She doesn’t seem to need the others’ company as often as they choose to maintain a tight proximity. It came as no surprise to me yesterday when Mix came back to the overhang when the other three ventured out to graze in the hay field.
Since I was lingering to watch from the half-door of the barn, I surmised that Mix might be coming back to check on what I was up to. When she started trying to find a firm edge to rub her muzzle against, I stepped out to see if I could provide some hand scratching to soothe an itch.
She didn’t want my hands on her head but seemed to appreciate my robust scratching everywhere else on her body.
When she’d had enough, Mix moved slowly out of my reach and then moseyed down the slope toward the hay field gate. I continued to lean on the gate in front of me to observe.
At the exit of the paddock, Mix suddenly broke into a run toward the other horses with a dramatic pounding of hooves on the turf. None of the three even flinched.
Arriving with all that energy, Mix trotted around them some, shook her neck, and looked to see if she had inspired any of them to match her excitement.
They continued to basically ignore her.
Mix gave up and lowered her head to join in the grazing.
A short time later I noticed Mix rolling around on her back in the grass. I wasn’t around when they returned from the field but the next time I looked in on them, they were all standing around together in the small paddock.
When I showed up for their second feeding of the day, Mia was the one showing some independence from the herd. She was grazing grass along the outside of the paddock fence while the other three were under the overhang.
It’s never a concern if they are not in the immediate vicinity when we show up to feed them. I busy myself with housekeeping duties beneath the overhang, raking up spilled hay, scooping poop, and sweeping off their placemats. At some point, I turn to find (in this case) Mia standing right next to me. We are always amazed when these thousand-pound beasts demonstrate the ability to close distances swiftly, yet silently and suddenly startle us by showing up at our shoulder without warning.
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Party Food
Brunch was a treat at Hope Breakfast Bar yesterday. The restaurant had a wonderfully eclectic menu from which Cyndie selected the pina colada french toast that came with very festive-looking cotton candy on the side. Yeah. Made my teeth hurt just looking at it. The egg sandwich on an everything bagel was more to my liking.
After having just watched the final episode of Ted Lasso season 3, the giant “BELIEVE” on the wall behind our table was a welcome sight.
It was a little loud for conversation at the table but the overall experience was perfect for our family party. It had a very celebratory vibe. I don’t think the birthday girl felt old at all while consuming that sugar party on her plate.
I bailed on my plans to do any weed control in the simmering heat by the time we got home. The visible haze of poor air quality helped convince me less work would be more advisable. I played with Asher, instead. The birthday girl wanted a break from going out at all so I took the pup out for some off-leash time. After he bounded into the woods close to the house, we made our way down the backyard hill where he sprinted away again.
I busied myself pulling vines growing across the trail when I heard him bouncing through the brush and looked up to see a deer leaping through the trees. That wasn’t the dog I thought I had heard. A short while later, it was Asher making the noise, following the same path the deer had just run. It was pretty obvious what the deer was running from.
When we went down to feed the horses dinner, all four were still standing in front of the fans under the overhang. Later, as the sun was setting and Asher and I went out for one last walk, we found the horses finally making a party of the freshly cut back pasture.
I knew it wouldn’t take them long to get after the shortened blades for grazing. Everything in its time.
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Calm Existence
It is a blessing indeed to make it through a day with animals and a wife recovering from surgery and experience no unexpected drama. Maybe I am feeling particularly appreciative because the day before yesterday was noticeably less so.
Not surprisingly, the Siamese cat with the pretty blue collar showed up on our deck again. I figured a return visit was likely given the way the neighbor’s big Pyrenees guard dog chased after the kitty when I returned it the first time. We chose to pay it no attention in hopes it would return home on its own.
All was going well, in terms of our ignoring it until Delilah got up from a nap and went ballistic over the presence of the uninvited feline visitor. I don’t know what it is about this cat that the dogs become so worked up over while other cats nearby walk around unnoticed.
Ultimately, the plan appears to have worked because there was no sign of the Siamese anywhere yesterday. I didn’t want to do anything that might invite continued future visits.
I also didn’t see the barn cat that we thought might be living in our hay shed, but I wondered if it might be hiding in there somewhere and had possibly been near a skunk. The unwelcome aroma was vague but present when I opened the big door to the shed. Something about the presence of the odor led me to believe it wasn’t coming directly from a skunk. Seemed more believable that it was a “second-hand” stink.
It was time yesterday afternoon to move more bales to the barn, even though there are moments when the horses are showing more interest in biting the fence boards than eating more hay this time of year. They loiter near the fence to the pastures and hope I will notice and give them what they want.
Cyndie has approved a plan I devised yesterday to rig up a way to allow them access to the round pen later today. With little activity in there the last few years, grass has overtaken the sand. It would be just fine with us if they grazed that grass down to nothing like they are doing in the paddocks.
That should buy us a little time of entertaining their cravings until we deem the grass in the back pasture ready for being stomped on and eaten. The first day they get on that tall grass, they will only have 15-30 minutes to munch. Access will be granted after they have already eaten the morning or evening servings, so they don’t feel overly hungry in the moment.
Each day their time on the pasture will be increased by 15-30 minutes. The microbes that inhabit a horse’s gut vary depending on what is being eaten. We want to allow time for the microbial population to change in balance with the new green grass being offered.
They’ll be excited enough as it is to be grazing in the pasture. We don’t want to spoil the otherwise calm existence by introducing new digestive problems.
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Mental Break
Last night, Cyndie and I watched the movie, “A Private War,” about journalist Marie Colvin who died in 2012 while covering the siege of Homs in Syria. It was some heavy, intense subject matter of the awful horrors civilians suffer in war zones. As soon as it was over, Cyndie said she needed a mental palate cleanser.
She took Delilah for a little walk in the direction of the horses. I chose to catch up and meet her out in the hayfield.
On the way, something grabbed my attention at the gate from the paddock to the back pasture.
The horses have worn a very specific path they trod when wandering into the field. For some reason, instead of meandering randomly out of the paddock to graze in the pasture, they regularly walk a precise route quite a way out before dispersing.
Inside the small paddock, the snag we left standing for their use as a scratching post had been pushed askew. The bottom is rotting enough that stability is almost gone.
Both Cyndie and I walked out into the hayfield and the horses happily followed. Then they kept going past us, climbing the rise and continuing over it to the far side facing the road.
The sounds of their contented chewing and ripping bites of grass have a soothing quality to them. The evening air was cooling nicely and the endearing sounds of nature surrounding us, combined with the munching horses as daylight faded, provided everything we wished for in terms of clearing our minds.
It is such a truly divine privilege to have horses living with us again.
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Happy Grazing
Late yesterday, Cyndie captured some great shots of the horses out on the big field as the sun was low.
Mix was walking around with only one fly sock on.
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It was nice to see Mix out there with the others because she has been lingering back under the overhang for a few days whenever the others wandered out. It’s difficult to gauge her reasons so our concern rises a little bit and we watch for any indication it is health-related.
Maybe she just doesn’t want to venture very far in the heat of the day.
The other possibility might be the low value of grazing that is available during the increasingly troublesome drought.
I wondered if she just didn’t feel like walking that far, so I’m very happy to know there doesn’t appear to be any physical limitation keeping her from moving out there.
I ended the day doing some trimming along the back pasture fence line and by the time I stopped, I didn’t feel like walking any further than necessary.
We are prone to repeating an old phrase around our house with respect to how our feet feel at the end of a long day: “My dogs were barking.”
After getting covered in dog shit shrapnel from the power trimmer upon inadvertently hitting a poo Delilah had previously deposited, I had a strong interest in doing just enough walking to get myself into a shower as fast as possible.
Living a privileged country life isn’t always a glamorous endeavor.
At least our horses maintain a pretty respectable sense of decorum when they are out grazing on the big field by the road.
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Guessing Game
With our fields all freshly cut for hay, we have been inviting the horses out to graze in the pasture again. They have shown much less interest than I expected to see. I think they know how dry it all is and find it no better than what is available closer to the water and their preferred territory inside the paddocks.
Last night, Cyndie and I walked out into the back pasture to see if they would join us. Mia eventually made her way into the round pen.
Swings and Mix followed along after a bit, Swings stepping inside and Mix choosing to circle around outside.
Light chose to stay back under the overhang until much later. After we had exited the pasture and moved our focus to the chickens, Light showed up to graze just inside the pasture, parallel to the coop.
Can you tell the difference between the older Buffalo Gals and the younger Rockettes?
It’s difficult to tell unless we focus on the breed. Of course, with the mixed results of the chicks we hatched that Rocky the New Hampshire Red fertilized, the breeds are not entirely obvious. It’s still not obvious which of the Rockettes are roosters in hiding.
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Those two faces are looking much more rooster-like than the rest of the young ones, but they aren’t visibly bigger yet and their legs don’t stand out as distinctly thicker/longer.
With 25 birds constantly in motion, it’s hard to keep track of which one is which. I’m pretty sure I’ve counted the same one twice every time I’ve tried since we merged the two groups. Until the size becomes obvious or they grow rooster tails, it’s pretty much a guessing game about the ultimate outcome of our hatched chicks.
One thing is for sure, though. None of them look like chicks anymore.
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Another First
It’s been a while since we tried something for the first time at Wintervale, so I guess we were due. Last night we started the 21-day incubation period toward hatching our own chicks. I never had this one on my list of things I wanted to try.
We have set our expectations low, but are striving to meet the specific parameters laid out [hee… laid] in the instructions as closely as possible to improve our odds. Since we weren’t planning ahead for this, some of the eggs spent time in refrigeration, which isn’t recommended.
If any of them hatch, we’ll have even more appreciation for what Rock contributed in his short time with us.
Candling to see if they are viable is scheduled to occur in seven days.
Yesterday, Cyndie gave the horses a new first by opening the gate to the front hayfield for them to explore. The four of them have already chomped the back pasture grass down so much we need to give it a rest.
Looking at how crazy-fast the lawn grass is growing around here during the latest series of rainy days, I expect regrowth in the back pasture shouldn’t take long. The first lawn mowing of the season is definitely imminent, pending the next dry, sunny day.
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Got Ribs?
We have been unable to enlist the help of our tiny herd of horses with improving the regeneration of our grass fields this summer. They have been allowed very limited access to the rich green grass in order to control both weight and the younger two’s penchant for laminitic hoof problems.
Yesterday, Cyndie allowed the horses a little time on the grass beyond the barren paddock and we both made the same observation. All three have slimmed down enough that faint lines of their ribs are detectable, even seen through their new growth of shaggier winter coats.
They’ve got ribs!
They certainly aren’t skinny, but the hint of rib definition helps to convince us they aren’t as overweight as they had been previously. We’ve made progress.
To celebrate, they were allowed a few extra minutes of grazing.
Hopefully, they will put more of the fuel toward filling out their winter coats, and not so much to just storing fat around their rib cages.
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Brief Treat
Just before sunset last night, we let the horses have a few minutes to graze on the mowed arena space. They were thrilled with the opportunity.
It is so precious for us to see them grazing on the grass outside their paddock. Be it ever so brief, it provided a compound reward.
The chickens seemed pretty excited over the activity and came running to join in the fun.
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Do they look like they are getting bigger? They are.
After we returned to the paddock, I crouched down to visit with the chickens, but it was Hunter and Cayenne who moved in to love me up.
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Apparently, they wanted to offer me a brief treat of my very own.
Love, gratefully accepted.
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New Information
Sixty years ago today, before I was even born, the best thing that could ever happen for me took place. With eternal gratitude to Fred and Marie Friswold, today, June 4th, I boast to the world that it is Cyndie’s birthday!
Happy Birthday, my love!
After a jam-packed weekend of social events and more, we begin this week with new information and new energy.
First, after a scheduled appointment for our vet to visit and give the horses their spring shots, we came up with a plan for how we will proceed into the summer grazing season. Both Cayenne and Hunter are showing signs of good health with their sensitive laminitic front hooves. The diet of reduced portions has their weight under control, and more importantly, it has been achieved with minimal evidence of angst from the horses.
Going forward, we are going to work on getting them used to wearing muzzles to slow down their pasture grazing. We will then feed them dry hay in the morning to fill them up and give them muzzled access to a previously mowed (shorter grass = smaller bites of cake) pasture in the afternoons. They will be confined to the dry paddocks overnight, with no added hay available until the next morning.
Most important for us will be the attitude the horses have about their situation. If they are okay with it, that will be the definition of acceptability. If they balk over any of it, we will work to adjust accordingly. Our goal is to keep their weight down, yet give them some time to enjoy the freedom to move about in the open pasture and “graze” as close to normal as possible.
The next big thing that we learned came as a result of a visit from our local DNR Forester yesterday. My key takeaway from that consultation was the value of cutting trees beneath the canopy of mature trees we favor. Growth that reaches up to encroach on the lower branches of the favored tree should be removed.
He asserted that the primary focus is on providing the most sunlight to encourage growth, but protecting lower branches from competition will also help keep the mature trees healthy.
My first inclination is never to cut down any tree, but our Forester convinced me that cutting some will enhance others. I need to get more comfortable pruning entire trees, in the way I am comfortable pruning a few branches to shape a single tree.
He suggested clear cutting some areas, like stands of aspen, to open up sunlight and entice energized bursts of new growth to expand the grove. It seems so counter-intuitive. I want more trees, not less. Apparently, a little loss now, produces bigger gains later. In his mind, it doesn’t take that long.
Time is a relative thing. I’m not feeling that patient.
I was surprised to learn that he felt our highest priority should be to work on removing invasive garlic mustard. I did a quick Google search and the response was rich with states battling the troublesome intruder. Our Forester said we should pull the plants, bag them in plastic garbage bags and throw them in the trash.
Among the many other battles we are already waging, like vines, common buckthorn, and poison ivy, we now will move garlic mustard to the top priority.
Oh, joy.
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Relative Something 