Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Muddy Mia
In the middle of my housekeeping task under the barn overhang yesterday afternoon, I suddenly heard great splashing sounds. I had to step around the three horses surrounding me to see what was going on. It was Mia. She decided to go swimming in Paddock Lake before their dinner.
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She came right up afterwards, but oddly showed no patience for eating feed out of a bucket. She wandered out into the back pasture. She has always been sort of the odd horse out of the herd, but lately, Mia is behaving like quite the loner. The other three appear to be just fine with that and show little stress over her frequent solo departures.
I left her bucket hanging in the usual spot and went about my business. Eventually, I spotted her back to have a bite or two, but she didn’t stay. It has me missing the days when they voraciously gobbled every last morsel of their servings. There is something unsettling about animals choosing not to eat food served to them.
Mia’s mud bath appears to be just the beginning of the messiness awaiting us in the days ahead. We’ve enjoyed two days without new precipitation, and while many areas are wetter than ever, the high ground shows a hint of drying out.
I’ve grown fond of being able to see where we are stepping on walks recently, but the next few days look like the ground could be covered with snow again. Slushy snow, one source predicts. That hint of drying out will soon be a thing of the past.
Oh, joy.
Look at that! John is showing signs of losing his passion for all things snow-related.
I must be getting old.
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Sounds Matter
Of all the night sounds reverberating throughout our woods –coyotes howling, raccoons arguing, rabbits getting caught– I cherish the conversations of owls more than anything. Last night, I took Asher for an extra walk in the dark because he had patiently slept through the entire length of the documentary, “Cover-Up,” about investigative journalist Seymour Hersh.
Asher deserved a last bit of exercise before entering his crate for the night. We probably walked right beneath the owl that began loudly revealing his presence after we got back inside the house. I like to think they are using their night vision to supervise the goings on of all the nocturnals around here.
Asher is not particular about where he decides to rest his head. The height of the bottom shelf of the coffee table worked out just fine the other night.
More often than not, he demonstrates that no pillow is required for slumber.
Asher was incredibly patient with being confined to the barn and the limited space under the overhang yesterday, while I worked longer than normal to tidy the grounds of accumulated hay scraps dropped by the mares. We are anticipating a visit from Maddy and the Farrier, Ralph, sometime this morning.
From Florida, Cyndie texted Maddy to share concerns we have about how Mix is doing. I had sent Cyndie a picture of the fence post Mix was biting as if it were an apple.
It’s possible she’s just bored, but her stiff movement and other behaviors might be signaling Mix is dealing with some pain. We are already suspecting she has some arthritis in her joints, and are giving her a daily pain med to treat that.
I don’t see how they can be bored with the ice on Paddock Lake shrinking right before their eyes.
Lost in my own thoughts yesterday, I startled all four of the horses as I was rolling the empty trash bin back from the end of the driveway. They mostly ignore the familiar sound of the plastic wheels rolling on the asphalt, although Mia still always picks her head up to stare as if she’s unsure whether it’s a threat or not.
My normal behavior would be to roll the bin on the pavement beyond the hay shed and then park it there while I walk to the barn to deal with chores. However, my mind was somewhere else when I reached the gravel on the front side of the hay shed and followed Asher toward the barn.
The quiet rolling wheels suddenly changed to a raucous clamor on the gravel that sent the horses scrambling in an emergency response drill. I was so distracted that it was the reaction of the horses that jarred me back to reality, and not the sudden noise the bin was making.
Horses provide plenty of opportunities to help keep us attuned to the present moment. Always remember, sounds matter.
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Thawing Happening
The most significant sign that we are making progress on breaking loose from the icy grip of winter is that I was able to wrench the large barn doors free and slide them open yesterday afternoon. That’s just in time for the next delivery of feed bags scheduled for today.
I bet I’ve taken this picture many times over the years, but it always fascinates me when the ground thaw process causes rocks to drop away from the surface. Later, when everything is equally thawed, the moss will be back to flush against the rocks.
I watch it happen every year, and I still don’t completely grasp how it works.
The footing is very treacherous in the woods where the blanket of leaves is thawing, causing each footstep to slide upon the slurry of mud on the still-frozen ground below. That layer between the leaves and frozen ground acts like ball bearings.
When I walk in the paddocks, I strive to place my boots where the surface looks like it will support my weight. If I make enough trips back and forth, I can pave a smooth path. At the same time, any ground that is thawed where a horse places a hoof becomes a deep crater. A 1,300-pound body can sink its feet more than half a foot into the soil.
However, if they decide to lie down, they can pack the surface smooth over a wide area. I found four spots where Mix had lain down and left behind a significant mat of shed hair. I gotta believe the other horses are doing the same, but their hair is harder to spot unless there’s a lot of it.
They are all taking advantage of rolling to scratch their itches as the winter coat is beginning to shed.
When the mud stays on their coat and clumps their hair together, we try to brush them out. Cyndie was able to do a cursory pass over three of them while they ate their morning feed, but Mix was very expressive about not wanting to be touched.
Cyndie leaves today for a couple of weeks to visit her mom in Florida, so grooming may not happen until she returns. I’ve never enjoyed much success in enlisting their cooperation when I’ve tried brushing them out. Luckily, Maddy will be here on Friday with the farrier, and I’ve seen her accomplish great things when brushing the mares.
Of course, there is a chance of rain on Friday, so any mud they’ve rolled in won’t be dry for brushing if that happens.
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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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Softer Days
Winter has loosened its icy grip by about 35-40° (F) [think about going from 20-below to 20 above], providing the horses with a break from blankets for a little bit. Mia’s regular blanket went back on for a while because overnight temperatures were still dipping into the single digits. I’m guessing she might be able to go “au naturel” again later today.
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The last few mornings have been a lot less stressful without the body’s natural tendency to stiffen in defense against the wicked Arctic cold we were facing last week. The first minutes of sunshine not only painted the horses in a golden glow, but it also made the labyrinth look pretty grand, too.
The low angle of light made for quite a shadow show. The days around the full moon on the 1st were just begging for us to get out and do a moonlight circumnavigation of the labyrinth, but remaining warm beneath the layers of blankets on our bed won out every time.
When Cyndie stepped out to give Asher one last chance to pee before we all turned in, she captured a view of the evening sky and moon-illuminated landscape at 8:00 p.m. on Monday.
It’s hard to know for sure how long this softer version of winter will last, but we will not be taking it for granted. I got my car in for scheduled maintenance yesterday, and it was warm enough that they were able to include their complimentary car wash, which I always perceive as a cherry on top of an otherwise dreary responsibility.
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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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Chilly Bones
We have survived our second night in a row with temperatures reaching – 20°(F) outside, where wildlife and domestic livestock live and cope with whatever Mother Nature dishes out.
Despite how extremely frosty-looking Swings was this morning, the horses are faring impressively well against the elements. None of the other three was covered with as much frost as Swings, but they all had frozen eyelashes and ice in their noses.
It is damn cold. This far below zero is where tree trunks start splitting open. It sounds like a rifle shot when they do. We have been hearing it happen, but have yet to spot clear evidence of which trees have ruptured. Air this cold is also dry and thin. Sound waves travel to the degree that vehicle tires on the pavement a mile away sound like they are right next door, similar to the way voices carry across the surface of a lake.
Boots on snow squeak like a bearing needing lubricant.
It is startling to imagine that such brutal weather as this didn’t sway a sea of tens of thousands of concerned citizens from amassing on the streets of Minneapolis yesterday to voice their objections to the abuses being dished out by the fascist regime currently sh**ting all over our democracy.
Is there any possibility that the level of dissatisfaction it takes to drive this behavior will sink in with the powers that be? If not, I shudder to think what it will take.
We decided to try giving Mia the added protection of a neck covering, but the attachment that Cyndie found in the barn wasn’t a match for the blankets we have. Maddy, from This Old Horse, stopped by with another blanket for Mia that worked a little better.
It’s funny to think that it will be twenty degrees warmer in a day or two, and even though it will still be near zero, it will feel so much less stressful for the animals. It’s all relative!
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Relative Something 