Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Turkey Feast
In classic Cyndie fashion, we did not have one turkey for our Thanksgiving feast; we had two. She soaked one in brine and purchased a smoked bird from a local barbeque joint.
A Thanksgiving feast deserves to be served on a royally set table so Cyndie pulled out family heirloom china and silverware and augmented them with her hand-crafted dried leaf place markers.
Speaking of leaves, we put all five extending leaves in the old Hays family table to provide generous elbow room for our modest-sized gathering.
While dinner was cooking, I guided a group down to the barn to offer the horses a few Thanksgiving carrot bites to brighten their day. I was greatly impressed with Light’s quick acceptance of my message that I had no more treats for her. She is prone to prolonged, insistent begging for more when we start offering treats. In this case, she reacted as if she totally understood what I was communicating and turned around to walk away and stand beside Swings, who had already given up on a chance for any more bites of carrot.
When we returned to the house, there was time for a little word-guessing game in front of the fireplace before Chef Cyndie made the call for “hands.”
Much feasting ensued.
All visitors were sent home with generous servings of leftovers, but due to some strategic pleading by me earlier, they made sure to leave a little for me, as well.
Today, Cyndie and I are heading north to spend the weekend at the lake, because we can. Our leftovers will be going on a road trip along with us.
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Talkin’ Sh✴︎t
Not really talkin’ shit, but that was an irresistible two-word title. More accurately, I’m talking compost, but since it is made from horseshit, that’s not far off. In the many years that I have been experimenting with ways to compost and reuse the horse manure produced by the herds living with us, I’ve developed a pretty reliable system.
The main variable that I have neglected to control effectively is the moisture level of my piles. The area I have chosen for composting piles is not covered by a roof. If it rains too much, my piles can get so wet it disrupts the thermophilic decomposition.
My composting methods are far short of academic control of the carbon/nitrogen ratio or covering the piles with a tarp to control moisture. Honestly, the primary goal is to reduce the volume of manure by getting it to break down. The fact that it produces wonderfully fertile soil in the end is a welcome bonus.
By simply piling the manure and turning it as needed, I’ve been achieving desired results.
Throughout the summer months, I create individual piles in the spot just behind the barn, visible in the photo above. Yesterday, I moved out the last of the season’s composted piles, leaving two active piles in the back and plenty of space to dump more if needed over winter.
Once the winter freeze sets in, I look for alternate places to dump the wheelbarrow since the manure piles won’t break down and shrink, and there have been years I’ve run out of space. One place I have resorted to has begun to produce more impressive black dirt over time than any of my individual piles ever have.
There is a spot in the large paddock where the end of the buried drainage tile from the spigot in the barn comes to daylight. After trying several unsuccessful tricks to keep the horses from stomping around in the area where the drain tile is close to the surface, I got the brilliant idea of covering it with a mound.
The most readily available fill material we have is horse manure, so I piled up frozen wheelbarrows full during winter months and left it throughout the year to settle. The horses can’t leave anything alone so their curious kicking around on the pile through the summer helps break it up and conveniently aerates it.
Every time they mess with it, I rake it back into shape and make sure the deepest part of the mound stays over the drain outlet. This week, I’ve started adding to the mound again because the piles in the composting area are bound to stop being active soon, and mornings have been freezing the manure.
Adding fresh manure to the pile made for a sharp contrast to how very wonderfully soil-like the previous seasons’ dumpings have become. If I keep this up, that little mound will become a fine horse-compatible rise offering safe cover to the drain outlet.
Ain’t that the shit!
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Winter Hints
Can’t complain when the first vestiges of winter show up in the latter part of November. If you were worried that Paddock Lake might dry up before all the horses got a chance for a good mud pack, we can report the opportunity is still there for them if that urge strikes.
It’s uncertain whether it will last long enough for the coming drop in temperatures below freezing. Today, the forecast indicates daytime temps will stay below 32°(F) starting in three days and could dip into the single digits overnight by next Sunday. If the water holds, that would be more than enough cold to create a skating rink for the girls.
The mares just had their hooves trimmed, so they should be able to fit into their figure skates without too much difficulty. It’s pretty comical watching them try to tie the laces using their teeth. Is there anything more beautiful than a gorgeous Thoroughbred doing a camel spin or Lutzes and toe loops out on the ice?
Up in the house, there are no skating shenanigans happening despite the potted Bird of Paradise leaking enough water lately to fill a skating rink. We have no idea what triggered this event, but after Cyndie slid the huge pot away from the window to allow access for professional window washers to show off their mad skills, I think maybe the saucer under the pot cracked.
That’s only part of the mystery. The real unknown is where all the water came from. We honestly began to wonder if someone from the cleaning crew dumped a bucket in there. Cyndie reports that for months when she watered it, excess flowed into the pan where she could soak it up per instructions.
In the last month, she noticed that no water was coming through into the saucer, so she tried increasing the frequency to twice a week, but no water was showing up in the pan anymore. Meanwhile, the plant appeared to be thriving. We’ve been surprised and thrilled with the new growth in the time since Elysa gifted us this gem.
Maybe it likes soaking more than we knew. Yesterday, we replaced the saucer with a brand new one, and this morning, we verified the old one had a leak because the new one is holding. Unfortunately, it is still mysteriously draining in unbelievable amounts that we are sopping up with a sponge.
Cyndie found a moisture scale and measured the soil this morning at the middle of the range of dry to wet. She won’t be adding any more until the scale shows movement to dry.
It’s possible the drain path was plugged and opened up when the pot was moved, but the plant is doing so well that it has us thinking it liked being that wet, despite information that Bird of Paradise does not thrive in soggy soil.
At least we learned how slanted our floor is by the length the leaked water flowed toward the fireplace when we first discovered it.
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Love Is
LOVE is: Letting your horse get as muddy as she wants and not fussing about it.
It appears that Mia was engaged in a little horseplay in the dregs of the shrinking Paddock Lake.
LOVE is: Holding the feed bucket for your horse when she is too jittery to stand over her station when the wind suddenly kicks up and the pigeons react en masse in a racket of slapping wings
Cyndie held a bucket for Mia, and I walked one over to Mix this morning when they were too unsure to return to their regular feed stations. Of course, I ended up with the slowest eater of the herd.
Doing something as tedious as holding a bucket for an awkward amount of time is made a lot less awkward by the energizing warmth of love.
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Big Unveil
If all goes as planned, today should be the unveiling of our new chimney crown after 4 days of curing. It was Monday when the guys hauled bucket after bucket of cement up three ladders to pour into the frame they constructed around the rocks of our chimney.
All week we have had the doors to the fireplace open along with the flue damper to allow warm air from the house to rise up in an assist toward fully curing the cement. The new crown has been covered with a tarp to keep off the rain showers we experienced yesterday.
I hope everything looks good up there when they peel back the tarp because I have no intention of climbing up to have a look for myself.
Since they have been very eager to share pictures they’ve taken of the old crown, I am expecting they will be equally happy to show off their completed handiwork.
Meanwhile, I was outstanding in my field with horses. I mean, out standing.
Cyndie and I walked out to spend some time with them in their space when we had no specific demands to ask of them. They saw us approaching but otherwise acted as if we weren’t there, which was just fine by us. We enjoyed observing them just being horses and not changing behavior because of our presence.
Ultimately, about the time we were turning around to head in, Light came up to each of us and put her head to our chests. We weren’t going to turn down a personal greeting.
Yesterday afternoon, it was time for a weigh-in. A special tape is used to determine a horse’s weight by the inches measured around its body. Our representative from This Old Horse, Johanne, did the measuring.
Our mares all have maintained a steady weight throughout the year.
The big unveil of the results…
- Swings (age 29) = 1225 lbs.
- Mia (24) = 1200 lbs.
- Light (21) = 1305 lbs.
- Mix (20) = 1275 lbs.
It’s sobering to see the actual numbers after standing among them and having one step up to you and put their head in your chest.
Sometimes, when I am cleaning up around them under the overhang and they try walking into the space I am occupying, I stand my ground to see how they will react. Knowing those giants wouldn’t even notice if they pushed me over makes it all the more precious when they have been kind enough to respect my presence and stop.
Now, it’s a whole nother thing if there are two horses moving together under there. In that case, I do need to get out of the way because the first one may not have an option of stopping if the horse behind them is forcing the advance.
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Eagle Visit
It was a cold morning yesterday and if we had any pumpkins there would have been frost on them. We do have a lot of leaves, though.
The temperature dropped far enough below freezing that the surface of “Paddock Lake” developed a layer of ice.
Since I’ve been pondering our role in the ongoing rescue of our four thoroughbreds, I took a few pictures of them in the early sunlight as they were gobbling their mix of cracked oats and corn.
Swings with her fresh application of mud.
Mix’s nose.
Mia
Light
Eight hours later, we showed up for the afternoon feeding. I was out scooping manure, and Cyndie was inside, measuring portions into their buckets. Mia was halfway down the slope toward the waterer, munching hay from one of the nets hung on the fence. Suddenly, I noticed Mia had flipped around 180 degrees and was standing on alert, looking to the south.
I scanned the distance to see if I could find what was grabbing her attention. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, my eyes moved back toward Mia, and that’s when I spotted what she was reacting to. A very large bald eagle was standing about five feet in front of her on the shore of the now iceless Paddock Lake.
It’s odd that I hadn’t noticed it when I looked around the first time. The eagle’s bald head stood out with its bright whiteness, and it was so incredibly tall compared to all the little pigeons that are about to get their own zipcode due to a population explosion.
I couldn’t be certain how long it had been there, but because Mia had just noticed, I’m guessing it hadn’t been very long. I don’t even know if it had enough time to drink because, as Mia approached the eagle took off.
Luckily, I had gotten Cyndie’s attention quickly enough that she came out just in time to see the big bird’s departure.
A huge eagle landing in our paddock while we were milling around felt like a nice ‘hat tip’ of appreciation from the universe to let us know things are good here.
It also tells me I’m not the only one noticing that little puddle seems to be forming into more than just a puddle. I’m feeling all the more justified in granting that watering hole a real name.
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Rescued Forever
How long does it take to rescue an animal? I suggest that it takes forever. Once a horse is rescued, it is (hopefully) never not rescued after that.
Think of the hypothetical question: How long will you be a parent? Forever, of course. Kids don’t stop being your children when they turn into adults.
Every time we serve up the buckets of cracked grains in the morning and afternoon, I feel the sensation of rescuing these horses from a time in their past when they weren’t being given enough to eat.
In the three and a half years these horses have been living with us, we’ve witnessed a lot of changes in them. However, even after all that time, I don’t believe they have fully processed the neglect they suffered. They all still show disinterest in being hugged, although they now allow us to get face-to-face with them and occasionally accept some hand scratches.
Nurturing their horse spirit as often as possible is part of the forever rescue. I watched them strike poses of high alert when I showed up outside the back pasture fence line on the ATV pulling a trailer filled with broken blocks of the demolished old chimney crown.
I’ve seen them lay down to nap when I am roaring around on the 4-wheeler plowing snow so I don’t think that was what they were reacting to. It was more likely the trailer that was bothering them. Plus, I was lifting blocks and tossing them into the drainage ditch. That may have looked suspicious to them.
It’s good to see them run around and then move in for a better view. This is their environment, and they are policing it accordingly. If something potentially threatening is unfolding, they want to know as much about it as possible.
The good news is that they are able to settle down quickly and get back to lounging around like royalty once they determine the odd thing in the area is not a threat.
And isn’t lounging like royalty something every forever-rescued creature deserves to be able to do?
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Appreciating Here
Day two of my intentional news avoidance exercise was a smashing success yesterday. The resulting calm was doubly rewarding when compared with the week before when junk mail and phone spam were at an all-time high. The morning began with a thick fog, which gave the early routine a wonderfully mysterious feel.
Sometimes, the fog puts the horses on edge because they rely on visibility to survey for potential threats. Yesterday, they weren’t showing heightened nerves and promptly buried their noses in their feed buckets, which puts them in an almost vegetative state after one mouthful.
Asher was incredibly patient with me as I traipsed around the paddocks, scooping manure into the wheelbarrow. I rewarded him with an extended walk in the north loop field before heading back to the house for his breakfast.
We revisited that field later in the afternoon, and he went wild following the scent of some creature. There were several circles where deer had laid down that interested him but it is known that bunnies live in that field, too.
Other visitors we’ve seen in that field include skunks, raccoons, foxes, pheasants, turkeys, and grouse. However, the culprit that probably most interests Asher is the neighbor’s cat that makes regular incursions into our territory.
Standing in the field while Asher rooted around, I felt a wave of renewed appreciation for this place we call home. We’ve had some rain to take the edge off the drought, and the sun was out all afternoon, warming things considerably.
We stopped for a pause in the rocking chair at the lookout knoll on the top of the first hill on the driveway. From that vantage point, we couldn’t see anything wrong with the world. We all know that isn’t true, but it makes the tranquility here all the more precious.
It practically obligates me to banish harsh news media from disturbing our peace.
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Perfectly Wet
Precipitation fell slow and steady all day yesterday, giving us the perfect moisture for growing roots to soak up before the ground has frozen solid for winter.
We didn’t let the shift of clocks back to standard time influence much of our normal routine, but our later morning arrival at the barn seemed to surprise a large rodent. We had entered through the back door, and as I was moving through the darkness toward the light switches, I heard a squeak and noticed Asher hop and twist.
A flip of the switches revealed a rat out in the middle of the floor. I suspect Asher had chomped the poor thing once as it was making no effort to dash for cover. I scooped it up with the manure rake and, after one last bonk to end any suffering, offered the barn pest a hot burial in a compost pile.
Based on the vast network of tunneling occurring in the sand floor, it is easy to assume that there is probably more than just that one culprit lurking about. It is really difficult to discourage unwelcome pests when feeding horses cracked grains that result in endless spillage.
The mares aren’t very fastidious about constraining the leakage from their mouths exclusively within the edges of the mats we put out for that purpose. There are cracked oats and corn scattered far and wide in the vicinity of the barn overhang.
The barn pigeons are in their glory, and the flock has grown to city park proportions with this abundance of food. The rats are probably getting their fair share.
We are employing a variety of attempts at eradication or, at the very least, discouragement to avoid the rats reaching a population approaching the pigeon flocks. Apparently, the neighbor’s cat that regularly prowls our grounds doesn’t put much pressure on rats residing in the barn.
Walking toward the house after chores, I noticed Cyndie chose the grass over the pavement. The wet conditions have left the paddocks muddy, so striding across the grass is a way to wash some of the grime off boots before entering the house.
The moisture was so needed, so perfect; I’m of no mind to complain about a little autumn mud.
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Random Distribution
Our wet driveway near the big willow tree served up an interesting display of randomly distributed fallen leaves yesterday morning. Nature providing opportunities for digital desktop wallpaper patterns or something along those lines.
By this morning, everything had dried up and most of those leaves had been scattered by the wind. What a difference a day can make.
Thursday, stepping outside was an exercise of stoicism in the face of 40 mph wind gusts blowing sleety rain and snow into our faces. Hunching against the onslaught, we wrestled our trash and recycling bins from the house to the end of the driveway.
The brain interprets the harsh conditions, triggering the autonomic response to put the body into survival mode despite the lack of that extreme level of threat. The difference this morning is striking.
Asher and I were on our own for morning chores and enjoyed calm and comfortable early November conditions. The horses were angelic and mostly calm. Mia was a little jumpy about approaching her feed bucket because it was hung under the overhang where we had moved her due to the rain and snow. The electric fence near there can be annoyingly snappy from moisture and she doesn’t like it when that happens.
I unplugged the power to appease her and allow feeding time to commence without further fussing.
On the way back to the house, as the sun’s rays were just beginning to appear through the thick pine grove that forms our eastern horizon, an almost perfect orange circle with a shadow in the middle lit up on the green shingles of our roof. It honestly looked like someone was shining the “bat-signal” distress alert on our house.
I wondered if someone had mistaken me for the caped crusader.
As I got closer and more sunlight was beginning to speckle other places along the peak of the roof, I could actually discern the outlines of the pine branch that was creating the bat-symbol-looking shadow across the curiously circular spray of sunlight.
Very unexpected from so far a distance to the trees.
A random distribution of a fascinating moment bestowed upon us to complement the wild weather conditions experienced just two days prior.
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Relative Something 