Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Memory Tests
Here’s a simple tip for managing undeveloped property: After you cut back any growing tree or plant, always follow up and cut back new sprouts that emerge from the stump. My challenge is remembering where to look for the new shoots that pop up since I tend to forget where I have left behind fresh cuts.
That grapevine sent out at least six new shoots that spread out in every direction. It had been a while since we cleared out this area and I discovered some of the shoots had traveled several trees away to climb branches. I think we need to start putting little flags in places where we cut something off to trigger me to come back sooner rather than later to follow up.
Our pile of extracted vines is getting pretty tall. It’s too bad I can’t seem to make progress on the thought of building an archway out of vines. At least I’m able to remember that I was considering the possibility.
Yesterday, I spotted a horse that I thought was Swings lying down for a nap and was planning to sneak closer to take a picture. Then she picked up her head and I saw it was Light, whom we wished would get more deep rest because she was acting sleep-deprived. I stopped my approach and took the picture from a distance because I didn’t want to disturb her.
She ended up getting to her feet shortly after my aborted approach. Hard to say whether it was my doing or a choice she would have made regardless of my presence.
Last night we had a humorous lapse in our memory for a dinner date with our friends, Paul and Beth. Cyndie picked a new restaurant to check out in Stillwater and made reservations. As I made the final turn into the parking area, I realized we’d been there before.
I recognized the front seating area where we’d sat with Paul and Beth the last time we’d been there. They had picked the restaurant at that time because they had been given a gift certificate to eat there.
At least I remembered that the food was good.
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Everything’s Changed
The rule of law seems to be melting into meaninglessness right before our eyes. When insider trading is happening out in the open, in the highest government office, it sends a pretty blatant message to the rest of us. I’m so happy to be on an expedition avoiding sights or sounds of HeWho (as in “He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named”).
Every day that I give ZERO attention to awful people who feed on attention is a day when my power wins the battle.
In our herd of horses, the role of muddiest mare has changed from the usual pair of either Mix or Light to Mia this week.
Mia displays a trait of flicking her head with a feigned biting gesture to ward off unwanted contact. It is very easy to read and respect when she is not feeling touchy-feely. If I approach her with kind words and a gentle hand, giving her time to sniff me and judge my intentions, she may not feel threatened, but she will usually still give that little biting-the-air motion as a proactive protection/personal space preservation.
I usually tell her that it’s not necessary, but I don’t take offense. The other day, she approached me as I was doing my usual housekeeping chores in the paddock. She came very close, so I stopped what I was doing and let her do all the sniffing she wanted. I was happy to have her initiate such intimate contact.
Then she made her little nipping toward me move, which triggered a quick response of objection from me.
“Uh uh. Not this time, girl. You approached me! Don’t be bitin’ in my general direction in this situation.”
You know what else has changed for me? Every time I see something about Canada, I experience a deep disappointment over being a citizen of the U.S. of A.
Disrespecting our good neighbor to the north really didn’t need to happen. If HeWho and his minions weren’t such (expletive deleted), that relationship could have been preserved.
At this point, I don’t see how we will ever be able to regain the goodwill we had before.
I guess not everything has changed. I’ve been told that a certain group of people still blame Biden for anything that is going wrong today. And, you know, Hillary’s email.
I wish there was a way to make America intelligent again. Not that it ever was to a degree we liked to pretend, but at least this current tide of idiocracy didn’t always have unobstructed access to the controls other than in the movies.
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Taxing Effort
It took a toll on our patience and stamina but yesterday, we finished installing barriers to all the rafters under the overhang to stop pigeons from roosting there. Our hands took a lot of abuse from the stabbing ends of hardware cloth we cut into short pieces we attached to the beams.
Amid the clatter of banging aluminum ladders, two cursing adults, and my noisy power driver, the horses accepted all the racket as white noise to help them nap.
I quickly realized how much of a total body workout it is to work overhead while standing on a fully extended ladder. I had switched from a staple gun to driving screws to secure the pieces of metal mesh. Reaching above my head meant I barely had enough leverage to put sufficient pressure against the head of the screws. That forced me to flex every muscle in my body to stiffen up enough to keep the driver engaged with the screw head.
Meanwhile, the bottoms of my feet on the ladder rungs kept getting increasingly irritated from needing to hold all my weight on such a narrow portion of my sole. When I climbed back down to solid ground, my right knee let me know it was unhappy with the stress of standing on the ladder.
All that abuse sure better produce the result we are seeking. We’ll soon find out if the pigeons will get the message we are sending. I’m looking forward to working on our next project with my feet on the ground.
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More Splashin’
If there was ever any question about how Paddock Lake seems to keep getting deeper and deeper over time, the following video provides a pretty clear demonstration of what it’s like when the horses decide to play in the water.
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When we first heard the ruckus, all three of Mia, Light, and Swings were kicking at the water at the same time. That was quite a sight. By the time Cyndie was able to pull out her phone to record the action, Swings and Mia were yielding their time to Light.
Light went at it with gusto. I am curious about whether she was trying to accomplish anything or just splashing for the sake of splashing. She certainly was achieving at least that much.
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Tolerance Reached
We have tolerated the ever-increasing number of pigeons roosting in the eaves of the barn overhang for the last few years but we’ve reached our limit. Their panicky flapping of departure and arrival each time they come and go gets incredibly annoying but the constant build-up of their shit coating every surface is the worst.
Short of resorting to methods of lethal force, we decided to put up barriers to close off their access to the eaves. Before covering the open areas, we decided to clean out the accumulation blocking the slots in the soffits.
That ended up being more nasty than we suspected it would be. If we don’t end up getting some form of bird flu or other illness from exposure to everything we found up there, it will be a shock.
In addition to the slabs of petrified pigeon droppings, there was a surprising amount of dismembered wings and other pigeon parts, including one entire body. We succeeded in doing some population control by removing several eggs. I was startled several times when a pigeon I didn’t know was still in there suddenly felt the time had come to escape, blasting past my face and almost knocking me off the ladder.
Now when they show up to roost, there is a lot of fluttering like a hummingbird as they struggle to figure out that their favorite spot is no longer available. Cyndie found a whole bunch had chosen to make do by perching on the 2-by-4 rafters for lack of other options.
If they persist there, we will need to add some disincentives to those spaces, as well.
I’d rather not spend any more time on a ladder for a long while. It was exhausting work to wrestle the hardware cloth into position and operate the staple gun at imperfect angles with my back and legs aching and my feet growing more tired of the rungs on the ladder by the minute.
The dang DeWalt heavy-duty stapler I have is supposed to have an “anti-jam magazine to prevent jams and misfires” as well as “easy squeeze technology.” Not on my model. I struggled mightily with both problems. It made for a frustrating combination up on the ladder where leverage is greatly compromised at extended reaches.
The horses were surprisingly calm tolerating our intrusion on their space and showed reasonable patience while we made them wait longer than usual for their afternoon feeding. They may understand what we were up to and appreciate the effort, although they will end up suffering some increase in frustrated pigeon wing-flapping for a little while.
I think they have tolerated the pigeon population explosion about as well as could be expected, but won’t be disappointed if the birds find other places to roost.
If this works as we hope, I will be overjoyed.
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Feeling (C)old
Three days ago, our temperatures were around 80°F. Welcome to spring in the Northland. That unseasonal warmth brought an overnight storm with heavy rain and loads of lightning and thunder. Most of the day yesterday dragged on with a dreary occasional mist and temps hovering in the very chilly mid-30s.
Around dinnertime, the temperature dropped below freezing.
Just 47 minutes later, it looked like this outside:
Hot and cold weather always bounces back and forth this time of year, so we should be well-adjusted to coping with the changes, but the return of wintery chills and snow never fails to feel like an undeserved punishment.
It’s the final day of March. I could hope that this is the last blanketing of snow we will get for the season, but ever since going through the extreme experience of receiving 18 inches of snow on May 2nd, 2013, I won’t assume we are in the clear until the calendar flips to June.
Cyndie tried convincing Mia to wear a light blanket for protection against the wetness, but Mia wasn’t interested. I figure she didn’t want to look different than the other Mares. All four of them seem to be coping just fine, as they almost always do.
I’ve got coping skills of my own that I’ve been executing. Lounging in the recliner by the fireplace, eating more than I should, adding a few inches and pounds of insulation around my middle, and napping whenever my tired eyes keep trying to stay closed. It feels an awful lot like my impression of what getting old must be like.
My initiative to maintain an exercise routine for back health and strong core muscles has done a disappearing act. Now in my mid-60s, I seem to have experienced a shift of my own from hot to cold. My morning workouts now tend to involve more cerebral pursuits like Wordle, Strands, and Connections in the NY Times games suite and sporadic stabs at Words With Friends competitions.
My aging is getting more obvious now that mental exercise has become just as tiring as my physical workouts once were.
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Unintended Kick
I got kicked by Mia the other day. Sort of. It was rather cute, really, since no damage was done, and I don’t believe either of us was at fault.
Cleaning up manure while the horses milled about before we brought out their buckets of grains, I was moving through the short alley between the two sides of the overhang. I had my back toward Mia as I walked, and I didn’t notice her decision to follow in my direction. I suspect one of the other horses caused Mia to suddenly pick up her pace, and she sped up to make it through the alleyway and stay out of their reach.
It is almost unbelievable how quietly such a large animal can move. As I was in mid-step, my heel was up, and the bottom of my boot was exposed behind me. I felt the contact of something on the bottom of my foot before I knew what was happening.
In a blink, Mia’s large body was brushing past my shoulder and into the clear ahead of us. That bump against my boot didn’t make sense. A fraction of a second later, I knew exactly what it was.
Most special for me, as I was carrying on with my manure cleanup, Mia approached in a way that very much felt like she was attempting to offer an apology for the strike.
I think I should do some work on my awareness of an entire 360° around me at all times when in proximity of the horses. Obviously, relying on my ears is not sufficient.
I’m lucky I didn’t suffer a bad outcome this time. It’s best I don’t expect luck to save me when it comes to the next surprising horse movement that is bound to occur while I am standing near.
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Plastic Goats
Sure, we could get goats to control the patches of poison ivy on our land, but we don’t need large swaths eaten down to a moonscape. We want a more targeted approach and one that will cost us less than goats. We are taking a shot at using plastic and/or cardboard to cover specific patches where the problem plant is most entrenched.
The hope is to turn just a select strip into a miniature moonscape. Since this method kills everything beneath the plastic, it’s not different from spraying entire swaths with a solution of vinegar/salt/dish soap concoctions, so we may experiment with that in a different location. Cyndie donned protective gear and worked to cut out the woody stems of poison ivy with berries that are very easily seen right now. She left her good gloves behind with Asher to stand guard.
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The horses came over to see what was up and lingered in the vicinity for a short while, grazing the dead grass and any new sprouts beneath that might be showing up.
I decided to make myself useful and worked to cut out the grapevine stems from the other side of the brush where Cyndie was working.
Anywhere on our property that we don’t regularly walk through is pretty much guaranteed to have grape vines seeking to become the dominant species, bending branches and entire trees down into submission. Trying to keep them at bay could be a full-time job. I yanked as many strands as possible from the branches of the bushes that were being swallowed and made a pile of vines.
I guess we worked for longer than Asher could stay awake.
We’ll wait a growing season and then see if we can encourage a desirable ground cover to fill in areas that have been under our plastic version of leaf-munching goats. The weather patterns of the last two years produced the largest expansion of poison ivy since we’ve lived here. It would be nice if we could make some headway in the other direction this year.
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Awaiting Winds
A day or two ago, we were on alert for another dump of snow from a winter storm the Weather Channel has named “Nyla” that will pass over us today. As of last night, the forecast was adjusted to most likely not produce blockbuster amounts of snow but will be noteworthy for its strong winds.
I am not a fan of high winds.
Yesterday, Asher and I took full advantage of the calm before the storm and lounged against the hay shed to watch the horses and listen to the pheasant squawks and the honks of low-flying goose pairs in the filtered sunlight shining through thin clouds.
Tucked up against the nook of the shed doors, the breeze was minimal, and we were able to bask in the radiating solar energy absorbed by the metal. When you know that the following day will be dramatically less inviting for such leisurely pursuits, the value of moments like that becomes noticeably heightened.
I always wonder if the horses have any inkling of the change coming our way. I try to warn them, but I suspect they are disinclined to pay much heed to my bantering.
Yesterday afternoon, when I showed up to start my routine with cleaning up under the overhang, Swings made a rare approach to my immediate space. I greeted her and carried on with my tasks. When she twice followed my movements and then finally rubbed her entire side firmly against a hay bag as she passed it, I got the message.
I set down the manure scoop and gave her a full-body scratching and loving massages. It is one of the more precious moments with these mares since they hardly ever show interest in receiving prolonged touch from us. I was also grateful to the other three for allowing us the uninterrupted time together. That is also a rare occurrence that one of them doesn’t want to nose in on another horse getting special attention.
On one of my walks with Asher earlier in the day, I took a picture that captures the orientation of all of our buildings, although the house is still mostly obscured behind trees.
It shows how the hay shed doors capture the sunlight. You can see how the barn is positioned so the overhang is protected from winds out of the northwest, both from its orientation and the fact it is tucked beneath higher ground behind it with plenty of tall trees providing additional windbreak. Just above the roofline of the hay shed is the shop garage. Uphill from that garage and directly behind the barn from this vantage point is where our house is located.
Here’s hoping no trees suffer damage from any accumulation of snow that will add stress to the pressure of the harsh winds blowing our way today.
Hang on to your hats when you’re reading this!
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Light’s Leadership
Observing the herd yesterday, I can understand why Light might be exhausted. I didn’t catch any of the horses napping throughout the day, but I spotted repeated evidence that Light is working to deserve the role of “Boss Mare” despite not being the eldest one in the herd.
After the morning feeding, I noticed that Swings was heading out of the paddock into the back pasture. Mia and Light were all in on the idea, but Mix showed no interest and was grazing at a hay net bag near the waterer. That caused Light to pause at the gate so as not to leave a horse behind.
Light hovered in that spot, keeping an eye in both directions but looking like she wanted everyone together. After a bit, she chose to walk back into the paddock toward Mix, which was just enough to persuade Mix to leave the hay net. As soon as Mix showed movement, Light departed for the pasture with the other two.
I thought it interesting that Mix then ramped up her energy in an almost petulant response and bolted into the pasture at a full sprint, kicking at the air for a little added spice.
At dusk, when all sorts of night critters start coming out, Asher and I found the horses hyper-focused toward the direction of the drainage swale. Neither Asher nor I noticed any animal movement in the distance, but that’s no surprise. Light maintained watch from several different vantage points when the other three decided it was safe to munch some hay.
Eventually, Light made her way down to a hay net, but she still stayed vigilant about any possible movement to the south.
Honestly, it looks rather exhausting to keep watch with such tenacity. I don’t know if she is proving herself to the others, but Light has earned my respect for all the effort she has been putting into it.
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Relative Something 