Relative Something

*this* John W. Hays' take on things and experiences

Posts Tagged ‘horse hooves

Changing Landscapes

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As I so often do, I ended up choosing hand tools over the diesel tractor for reclaiming some of the lime screenings that have washed into the drainage swale in the field beyond the paddocks.

It was just a lot easier to start the task when the moment presented itself, I have way more control over what I am doing, and I could work without bothering to isolate the horses.

The washout isn’t all that dramatic in the picture above, where I had already dumped several loads back on top, but the erosion was beginning to get a lot worse with each batch of heavy rainfall we had been getting. I’d like to interrupt the pattern of increasingly greater washouts as early as possible.

It would be grand to add something like a grid or fabric to hold soil in place but hoof traffic through that space tends to destroy that kind of thing. We’ve got some thick rubber mats under the overhang where we place feed pans and the horses’ hooves do a surprisingly good job of tearing them up.

They have been stomping their feet to knock biting flies off their legs and that tends to bust up their hooves a bit. I spotted a big rock that had recently surfaced on a slope of one paddock. It appeared to have scuff marks on it so I asked Cyndie if it should come out. Her response was, yes, because it can be bad for their hooves.

When I finally pried it out, it fell into two pieces. I think a horse had already broken it by stomping.

I took “before and after” pictures of a different project yesterday afternoon.

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We cleared out this path along our northern property border last year to create our newest walking trail. Everywhere I had cut a tree, new shoots sprouted with a vengeance from the stumps. I hadn’t given this any attention since spring and the weeds and tree shoots were taking over. Now the path is much more inviting.

This coming weekend we are hosting a Hays family gathering that will include a scavenger hunt for one of the events. I now have one more trail where I can think about sending hunters in search of some unique item or landmark.

Cyndie and I have already agreed that no clues will require digging, moving anything large, looking under manure piles, or climbing trees to find designated items.

The scavenger hunt beat out my idea of a treasure hunt where increasingly helpful clues would be provided each time a task is completed. What kind of tasks?  I was thinking of things like splitting some firewood, filling in erosion ruts, hauling hay bales, or turning compost piles. The treasure was going to be a seat in our reclining easy chair and a glass of ice-cold lemonade.

See ya this weekend, Hays siblings and offspring!

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Split Second

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I thought Delilah had tripped. She appeared to stumble as one of her paws slid out from under her on the landing in front of the door to the house.

We had just returned from tending to the horses for the afternoon feeding where Delilah had uncovered one of her prized possessions: hoof trimmings. She had retrieved it from a hiding spot and was clenching the precious find in her teeth as we walked straight back to the house.

There are no detours at this point, because Delilah knows that the next order of business involves serving her dinner. I’m sure the cut of hoof was intended for dessert.

I guess she wasn’t expecting there would be appetizers, too.

As I was sweetly questioned Delilah about what had just happened, using a soft, comforting, albeit confused tone, the wingtip of a songbird appeared out of the side of the dog’s mouth.

I stuttered in surprise for a second and before I could utter a command for her to drop it, the bird let out a little tweet. This brought about two reactions.

I switched to my loud voice to demand that she drop it, and Delilah quickly began chomping.

Sorry about the image that may create, but keep in mind, I had to see and hear it first-hand. You get off easy.

All it takes is a split second.

Then, in one complete second, Delilah swallows and bends down to pick up her piece of hoof. She looks up at the door handle, and then me, ready to go in for dinner.

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I’d lost my appetite, but it didn’t slow her down one bit. For my part, I cut back her portion of canned food in her serving. She just had her protein.

If you could use some consolation, there was a mark on the glass of the storm door that revealed a reason for a bird to be laying on the front step. It might not have been dead when Delilah snatched it, but its demise may have already been determined.

I’m sure Delilah’s intentions were entirely directed by compassion.

Mmm hmmm.

She’s such a dog.

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Written by johnwhays

September 2, 2018 at 9:47 am