Posts Tagged ‘horse behavior’
Horse Raincoats
While our thermometers were reading temperatures in the 50s (F) yesterday, the angry-sounding wind kept it from feeling nearly that warm. Still, snow melting continued throughout the day, as well as some melting of the ground beneath. Even with that, the meltwater isn’t able to soak into the deeper layers, so the resulting hydrostatic pressure is pushing up onto the dirt floor of the barn.
With a looming threat of a chance of rain, we decided to put raincoats on the horses. Three of them accepted it without a fuss.
Mia chose to be totally noncompliant. After a few objections, where Mia just moved away each time Cyndie approached, Cyndie got the sheet tossed over Mia’s back. Before we could connect any of the fasteners, Mia took off down the slope in the paddock, kicked the sheet off, stomped on it once for good measure, and took a few steps beyond it.
After retrieving the now-wet sheet, Cyndie came out with a different blanket and a lead rope to toss over Mia’s neck. While Cyndie held Mia in place with the lead rope, I draped the blanket over Mia’s back.
Mission accomplished. Let it rain.
It’ll be great. Most of the ground is still frozen, so the water will push up inside the barn and erode new pathways across surfaces toward the drainage swales.
The bigger drama while we were down there tending to the horses was the wind. Strong winds automatically ratchet up the horses’ anxiety level.
While Cyndie was filling feed buckets and I was scooping poop, a gust of wind pushed open one of the gates we had positioned to block the alleyway. I looked up to find Light about to walk inside the barn. That got the other horses worked up when they noticed Light was in unauthorized territory.
Cyndie emerged with hands busy holding feed buckets and met Light face-to-face. Light didn’t automatically want to back up, and I couldn’t swing the gate back until she did, so we had a moment of pre-catastrophe concern. We all remained almost calm. Ignoring the gusting wind for a moment, I took buckets for Mix and Mia and got them situated on their side while Cyndie coaxed Light to turn herself around and get back on her correct side of the fence.
It’s a little like Olympic figure skating. You never know what is going to happen, but don’t be surprised when the results don’t turn out as expected. In the end, everyone gets to take a big cleansing breath, accept the outcomes, and move on to the next challenge.
I’m looking forward to the Olympic men’s and women’s Ice Hockey elimination games for the next few days. You never know how that puck might bounce. I’m hoping it’s in our team’s favor.
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Old Horses
Even though the racing world considers January 1st the birthday for all Thoroughbreds, we still know the actual date our horses were foaled. Today, February 13th, is Mia’s real birthday. She was born in the year 2000.
Our friend, Michelle, is planning to stop by with a treat for the birthday girl later this afternoon.
All four of the horses have been pleasantly mellow lately, and we have been thoroughly enjoying their peaceful spirits.
As we lingered with the mares after feeding them yesterday morning, Cyndie and I remembered the descriptions of the desperate situation Light had been rescued from (twice!), and the level of food insecurity three of them had endured. The most critical of their physical health concerns had been addressed before they were brought to Wintervale, but their residual trauma still lingered large in the first months after they arrived.
The first day they were with us, we found them standing together in the middle of the small paddock, and even fresh apple slices we offered didn’t entice them to greet us. It looked to me like they were showing us that they had had enough of human interaction. This location was just another stop on a lifetime of being trailered to places they were forced to run, places they were forced to be bred, or eventually, to places they were neglected to near starvation.
Swings began to repeatedly pace back and forth along the paddock fence anxiously. Mix would lash out when a horse or human got too close during feeding times. Mix is also the one to react in panic whenever we’ve tried enclosing them inside the barn stalls. When we set out pans of feed for them, they rarely stayed in place, setting off a “musical chairs” rotation of moving from one pan to another to eat each other’s serving.
Over a period of years, we’ve enjoyed the blessing of witnessing their behaviors gradually normalizing as they rediscover their true equine nature.
They are so much more comfortable in their horse-ness these days. We have learned plenty along the way, adjusting our care as their responses dictate. Long ago, we ditched feed pans for buckets we hang at feeding time, always following a set pattern that positions each horse in a specific location.
Now, each time they calmly take up their positions before we bring the filled buckets out, it brings us such a feeling of appreciation. Giving them open access to the fields most of the time allows us to enjoy them choosing to stay by the security of the barn overhang or journeying out to the far reaches of the fields, depending on their whim.
On the eve of the big day of lavishing Valentine’s love on those you hold close to your hearts, I’d like to offer you a way to show some love to horses being rescued by the private, volunteer-based non-profit organization, This Old Horse, through a link to their donation page:
DONATE
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We donate our fields, facilities, and time and labor caring for Swings, Mia, Light, & Mix, but This Old Horse covers the costs of hay and feed, maintaining their hooves, routine checkups, and as-needed vet visits. If you have it in your heart to help give horses a chance to live out their days with dignity and surrounded by love, this is a truly deserving organization. ❤️
Oh, and tip your hat to our Mia as she reaches 26 years old today! Momma Mia!
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Big Wings
A slow disappearance of snow is happening right before our eyes this week, despite the sky being mostly cloudy. Each morning, we find ourselves surprised by the appearance of more exposed ground.
Yesterday morning, we had an eagle soar just above our heads on our walk to feed the horses. The herd was milling around just outside the large paddock, and the arrival of the large wingspan so close overhead unnerved Light and sent her running back inside the wooden fence line.
The eagle looped around and landed on the high point of the hay field, quickly revealing that a field critter was about to be breakfast. Instead of running away, Mia took a few steps toward the regal raptor and stared confidently. It looked to us like she was flaunting her absence of intimidation from the great predator.
Asher was oblivious to it all, keeping his attention to the ground where the residual scent of all the nocturnal wildlife activity that had occurred the night before still lingered.
I have watched eagles soaring so far above our land that they look like a little dot in the sky that becomes invisible if you look away, and then try to find it again. Having them also fly so close that you can almost reach up and touch them is a memorable experience.
The wing pattern in yesterday’s Words on Images post was made by a much smaller wing than that of the eagle in our hay field, but it was in the snow near the top of that same hill.
This theme of wings is a recurring one this week. A couple of days ago, as Asher and I were strolling past the old chicken coop, our arrival flushed an owl out of the branches right over our heads. I had no idea it was there until the whoosh of its departure. It soared straight away from us, and I was granted a clean view of the graceful motion of a grand wingspan propelling the bird through the air.
The bounty of walking among these revered winged creatures leaves me feeling a little small as I plod along the packed snow of our frequently traveled pathways, but it also fills me with an appreciation for being able to share space with them.
It serves as a reminder to look up more often to see what might be perched in the branches overhead.
Rarely are we ever as alone as I sometimes feel on these rural acres.
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Silent Communication
The morning started out like most every other with a walk through the woods with Asher that brought us to the barn to feed the horses. Cyndie put out feed buckets, and I wandered around cleaning up manure. Then Mia walked away from her bucket and made her way over to where I was working.
The fact that she walked away before eating everything in the bucket wasn’t something new for her. Neither was the fact that she approached me, really, even though she is the least social most of the time. Mia lives in her own world to a degree, and we are getting used to her acting on a unique agenda.
Something about her behavior yesterday morning struck me differently. I paused what I was doing and stood waiting to see what she would do next. Mia moved her body so close to mine that I could touch my forehead to her side with barely a lean.
The sound of her digestive process was rumbling beneath her blanket. She was completely calm. I quieted my mind and longed to perceive something she might be telling me.
I got nothing.
When I tried putting a hand under her blanket to check her warmth, she let me know that wasn’t welcome with a turn of her head and her characteristic nip at the air. When she moved again to leave me standing squarely behind her, I opted to go back to what I was doing.
I wasn’t able to shake the feeling that she was silently communicating something to me, so when I finished all my tasks, I returned to where she was standing, leaving enough space to show respect. Mia looked my way, noticed I was without any tools, and returned her head to look forward.
She was definitely operating on her own terms. Eventually, while I stood silently nearby, she slowly moved her body so that she was right up against me again. I willed myself to sense something physically in my body or a thought or vision in my mind.
I got nothing.
Whatever Mia might have been telling me, I wasn’t picking it up. When I finally wandered away toward the house for breakfast, I was left with a feeling that we had shared something, even though I had no idea what.
Maybe she was merely giving me credit for trying.
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So Tired
Mentally weary and physically tired from the persistent pressure of daily rallying to convey our objections to ICE operations in Minnesota and to support friends and family in the vicinity of the attacks. This has been happening while we are simultaneously coping with the added stress of caring for our animals during the last few days of frigid temperatures.
A full night’s sleep is hampered by the lingering grief of citizens being murdered by our own government agents. We sleep because we are exhausted, but it is fitful sleep because we are in a battle for our constitutional rights.
We kept a fire burning in the fireplace yesterday, more for the mental and visual comfort it offered than for the added warmth it gave off.
During the afternoon, I cleaned snow remnants off the driveway that I’ve been ignoring since the last two dustings days ago. I barely had the energy reserves to finish what I started.
The horses seemed very distracted during the morning feeding, staring at length to the south. Eventually, I saw an electric power company utility truck pull into the neighbor’s complex of two houses and multiple outbuildings. Were the horses privy to an issue over there before the line workers even showed up? I was oblivious to whatever they were so curious about.
We haven’t suffered any power interruptions as a result of the Arctic cold. Well, not electric power, anyway.
I’m operating on my reserve tank, hoping for some morsel of good news to counter the endless doom and gloom being orchestrated out of the White House. It can be a battle for those of us who work every day to conquer depression when depressing reports of depressing actions become the order of the day.
Thank goodness for my music library and the ‘random play’ feature that offers a healthy distraction and moments of respite from harsh reality. My digitized record collection sends me love that feeds my soul. I don’t even care if it’s some form of AI algorithm behind the magic.
I know I’m too tired when I can’t be bothered to skip selections it picks that miss the mark.
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Mia Active
On a mid-morning visit to the horses during a very picturesque cloudburst of snow yesterday, I noticed Mia standing alone by the wood fence of the large paddock while the other three were up under the overhang. I decided to talk to her, calling from uphill where I was standing, inviting her and encouraging her to come up out of the snow and be with us.
She was standing with her butt towards us, but turned her head for a second to look my direction as I talked. When I turned around, Light was coming straight toward me, and I bent down to greet her, nose to nose. She paused politely for a moment, but then continued around me and went right down to stand with Mia.
Nice. While I was trying to get Mia to come to us, Light decided to meet her where she was. Works for me. I just feel bad seeing Mia looking so alone.
Next thing I know, Light is coming back, and Mia is with her! My heart swelled. I quickly grabbed some treats to show my appreciation to both of them. I took advantage of the opportunity to offer Mia a mid-day snack of Senior Feed, something the Nutritionist had suggested as an option for Mia.
I held the bucket and let Light sneak a couple of bites, too. I was enjoying seeing them being so friendly with each other.
Shortly after that rewarding interaction, Asher and I were on a walk on the far side of the back pasture, and I noticed Mia and Light walking out into the field and coming in our direction. I stopped and acknowledged Mia, thinking she might be coming all the way to be near us.
Suddenly, Light turned and bolted back to the barn, as if having been startled by something. I felt bad that it left Mia alone, but she only remained there for a second before turning and sprinting back as well. I don’t know what bothered them, but I took pleasure in seeing Mia run with such vigor.
She may not be feeling her best, but she’s certainly showing plenty of healthy signs of life.
Before Asher and I had walked much farther, I spotted both horses meandering back out into that field a second time, leaving me curious about what it was that had spooked each one, just seconds apart from each other, but happy they felt safe enough to try again.
The weather forecast includes warnings about a severe cold wave coming with temperatures lower than we’ve seen in seven years. That means colder than these horses have experienced since they’ve lived with us.
At least they are sheltered from the wind. We are crossing our fingers that we get through the Arctic conditions without any incidents for the animals or equipment.
Baby, it’s gonna get cold outside!
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Gut Feeling
Not being inclined toward appearing alarmist, I hesitate to leap to extreme conclusions; however, there is a saying that I believe came from our government… If you see something, say something. Who am I supposed to tell when I see that it’s my country that is abusing its power?
I don’t know how we can ever apologize enough to the rest of the world for the ridiculous situation we have allowed to occur.
This morning, I am also struggling with making the wrong conclusion about the way Mia was behaving. I’m not confident in my ability to trust the accuracy of my intuitive sense of feelings triggered by what I witnessed. Since nothing I saw indicates an obvious problem or a need for immediate action, we are not doing anything more than planning to keep a closer eye on her for a while.
When I described my thoughts to Cyndie after returning to the house, she admitted having had a momentary similar thought. Could Mia be sensing her life coming to its end?
Unfortunately, our weather is expected to become more stressfully cold for a period of days, so if Mia is not interested in putting in the effort to cope, a fatal result would not be a surprise. One of the things Cyndie and I talked about triggered an insight. Mia has always been the lowest in the herd order and appears ostracized all too often. Cyndie posited the possibility that these horses are not behaving in the natural ways of a healthy herd with fully intact horse senses.
Before the abuse of severe neglect they suffered, they were forced to race in competitions against other horses. Our offerings of love and comfort since they’ve been with us haven’t necessarily undone all of the compensating behaviors they adopted to deal with all the different situations they have lived through.
I felt like Mia was showing signs of not caring about staying with the other three this morning. It could have been a passing grudge that won’t endure, and we will soon find her reengaged with one or more of the others.
Whether it’s my country or our horses, I find myself experiencing an unpleasant gut feeling.
It would be just fine with me to be wrong about Mia.
As for the country, I’m afraid things have already gone further than should ever have been allowed.
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Horse Time
It was a quiet morning with the horses today. They were all business when the buckets of feed were served. I found a fresh clump of tail strands on the ground that has us wondering why. It’s the second time in a few weeks, but we witnessed the first strands dragging off of Light from beneath her blanket.
They are blanket-free currently, and their shaggy hair looks great on them.
When Swings walked over in front of me, her hooves clomped in the classic “horse sound” (knocking coconut halves together) as if she were walking on concrete. The temperature has dropped below freezing, and the rain-soaked, well-packed snow surface probably is as hard as concrete.
We’ve been collecting all the dropped hay to be scattered over the icy surface beyond the overhang to provide a little better footing for the horses (and us).
Yes, Swings has a funky laying mane. It used to bother my sensibilities, but I’ve gotten used to it.
It being January, we’ve incremented all the horses’ ages for 2026, in the convention of Thoroughbreds and the horse racing industry. So Swings is now 31, although her true date of birth is in April.
Mia is next oldest, coming in at 26 this year. Her birthday is in February.
Light is 23 (May) and Mix is 22 (March).
Mia tends to grow the least shaggy coat of winter hair among the four of them, but even she is looking good and fluffy this morning.
Mix’s winter growth tends to look wet even though it’s not. We would brush it out for her if she preferred, but we don’t bother them if they don’t want to be touched.
This morning, Cyndie bent over to fill in a hole dug by a critter, and Swings backed into her butt. Taking the friendly bump as a message, she stood up and offered Swings a scratch. It didn’t take much, and Swings moved away when she’d had enough.
If a person wants to turn their back on the ugliness occurring in the world for a while, spending time with horses is hard to beat. It is sure working wonders for me lately.
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Transcendent Ambience
With our weather taking a mild turn, I took the blankets off three of the horses yesterday, leaving Mia covered because she doesn’t grow as thick a winter coat as the others. Blanketing horses is interesting in that it seems like they’d just as soon not have them on, but they appreciate the added protection against the elements when the weather gets crazy.
As such, they will cooperate by standing still while we put them on. It is a treat to be able to reward them by taking the blankets off again as soon as the conditions allow. Happily, Mia doesn’t fuss over keeping hers on.
She finished her feed and came down to where I was tying a freshly-filled hay net on a fence post. I did my best to read her intentions in case she preferred to get rid of the blanket, but she gave me no indication that was the case. She seemed more interested in gobbling bites of hay.
With the warm temperature, I was working without a hat and wearing uninsulated gloves. After finishing all the chores and collecting empty feed buckets, I paused to lean on the gate and enjoy the moment. It was a wonderfully quiet night. As darkness approached, Mia was wandering from one placemat after another to scrounge any remaining spilled feed pellets. The other three horses were each at a different hay net, munching away.
In the distance, across the road in a grove of pine trees, an owl started hooting, adding to the transcendent ambience.
It was the kind of solitary experience that wouldn’t have been as special if someone else were there, but as I was enjoying it, I found myself wishing everyone could have the same opportunity.
I don’t know how I ever got so lucky to live in this remarkable place and have a relationship with these precious horses.
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Nasty Conditions
Today’s quiz question is: What is John’s least favorite weather condition in the winter?
If you guessed rain in the great snowy north, you are oh-so-correct.
What a way to wreck perfectly good snow for outdoor recreation. Yuck. It stayed warm throughout the rain, so we dodged the dreaded icing that usually happens when the precipitation changes over to snow. There was a pause during which the temperature began its return to real cold again before the arrival of high wind and flying flakes.
I found the horses’ Jolly Ball had been carried or kicked out into the hay field. I regularly pick it up from wherever it rolls in the paddock and set it up where I hope it will entice them to play with it. It’s rarely obvious whether it gets kicked or the wind pushes it downslope a ways, but I keep resetting it for their benefit.
I’m pleased to see it occupied one or more of them long enough to end up so far from where I had left it most recently.
As we headed out into the nasty conditions to feed the horses yesterday late afternoon, I became aware of the difference between the ways Cyndie and I face the challenging weather. Largely due to the suffering she endures from the cold, Cyndie is more on the defensive against it. I hear it in the sounds she makes and the comments she utters. It leads her to be concerned that the horses might be feeling as bad about the Arctic gales as she does.
I try to play more offense, using comments that diminish the harshness and telling the horses how well they are doing as we all brave the cold and windblown snow. I talk my way into winning the battle of man against the elements.
If the weather wants to go nasty, I’ll dish out my own dose of nasty-level positivity in the finest of contrarian ways.
Take that, old Man Winter.
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Relative Something 