Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Calamities Dodged
Sometimes, I feel as though the horses must think we make the silliest decisions. I have no idea how much sense they have about approaching weather systems. We are greatly influenced by forecasts from meteorologists. When the weather service issues a winter weather advisory, we consider how it will affect the horses.
Monday afternoon, we put their rain covers on due to the likelihood of a rain/sleet/snow mixture falling overnight into Tuesday morning. It held off just to our south overnight, but sleet finally started falling just as we were feeding them yesterday morning.
Invasive Garlic Mustard is easy to spot in November.
It was hard to tell whether they appreciated the extra protection or not. Now the extended forecast is showing highs for the week in the mid-to-upper 40s(F) with mostly sunny skies. When it dried up by late afternoon yesterday, I decided to remove their rain sheets.
Cyndie was in the Cities overnight with friends, so I was on my own with the horses. Mix was first and seemed very eager to have the shell removed. Mia came up as soon as she saw what was happening, so I offered to help her out of her cover next. She was fine with me undoing the clips in front and stood mostly still while I disconnected the two straps around her belly. Then, she decided to bolt before I could unclip the small strap on the back.
With the blanket open at the front, it blew into the air as she took off, and Mia just stepped her back legs free of the rest of it as she ran. I walked down the slope to pick the sheet up off the dusty ground, trying to act like it was the normal procedure.
“Nothing to see here. Carry on.”
Mia’s little burst of energy got Swings and Light to come up to get in on the action. I unclipped the front of Light’s raincoat and one of the two belly straps before she decided to copy Mia and suddenly took off running, kicking her way out of the rest of the still-clipped straps.
“Really?”
Thankfully, Swings, the oldest and calmest of the four, stood in place while I wrangled the clips apart and slid the cover completely off her back. As a group, they seemed like they were of a mind that they didn’t need the extra protection we went through the trouble of providing.
We prefer taking precautions, in contrast to waiting to try and help them after they get wet and cold if conditions turn sour.
So, we dodged a few potential calamities this time, as Light kicked dangerously while Cyndie was in the vicinity, situating the back of Light’s cover, and the two horses bolted with straps still attached while I was in the process of removing them.
It serves as a fresh reminder to keep alert to risks every time we are interacting with these huge and sometimes unpredictable beauties.
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Animal Activity
When out on a walk around the property yesterday, Cyndie came upon a love message from the burrowing gophers that wreak havoc on our turf.
I guess they’re trying to get on my good side. We definitely don’t have any problems with soil aeration. I assume all the mole and gopher activity is an indication that the world below the surface has plenty of living organisms on which they are feeding.
It would follow that the large population of moles, voles, and gophers around here is why we also have so many snakes, owls, hawks, and coyotes, too –the circle of predators and prey.
The horses were quietly chilling in their post-feeding morning lethargy when the backup-warning beep of the forklift vehicle down at the road put them on alert.
Light ran down to the gate of the paddock, which didn’t provide her much of an advantage because the truck was out of sight over the hill. She stood there for a second with her head held high and ears perked, then returned to the higher ground under the overhang.
I don’t know if the horses have come to recognize the pallet of white bags as their sustenance yet, but as soon as the funky vehicle appeared over the rise, they all relaxed their attention and returned to their previous stupor.
Later, when I rolled the trash bin down to the road with Asher just after sunset, I spotted the horses all grazing in the back pasture. Yes, there are horses visible in that photo, hiding in the darkness below that orange glow in the sky.
When Asher and I got to the road, there was a grain trailer parked in the field yonder that I felt might tempt him to leave our property to investigate. As I tried to park the bin precisely, I was also fumbling to get my hand on the controller for his e-collar in case he didn’t obey my command.
I saw the white flash of a cat dart away from the trailer about the same time that Asher did. My commands didn’t stand a chance. He disappeared after it into the tight rows of dried cornstalks before I could find any of the buttons.
Beeper. As if.
Vibration. Whatever.
Shock. Nope.
Is this thing working? I started pushing all the buttons, trying to hit the control to increase the shock’s intensity. The moderate breeze rattled the dried stalks enough that I couldn’t tell if it was wind or Asher, and I couldn’t see any sign of him in there.
Before anything truly problematic occurred, Asher reappeared around the corner at the near end of the cornstalks as if nothing had happened.
I use the controller so rarely that I need to remember to pay better attention to what I am doing, but I also think we should tighten the collar so it won’t be easy for him to ignore the signals at his choosing.
The day provided a powerful feeling that we are but a small fraction of the much larger amount of animal activity going on around us all the time.
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Faint Dusting
We have officially received our first snow of the season overnight. With temperatures well below freezing, the flakes were dry enough that there was no threat of the horses getting wet, which is a relief. We hadn’t ended up putting blankets on them.
Cyndie did, however, put blankets on two of the evergreens in the labyrinth.
They are wrapped in burlap to protect them from freezer burn during the winter.
When I saw the wind chill was down in the single digits (F), I pulled out my quilted Carhartt overalls, which are a significant part of what I call my “spacesuit” against the winter conditions. It’s that time of year, I guess. I hardly needed them the last two years. Maybe this year will be different.
We have had an orange cat behaving more boldly about being on our property lately, which is putting Asher in a bit of a tracking frenzy. Two days ago, the cat showed up in our barn while Cyndie was down there to retrieve the feed buckets. Luckily, she had left Asher in the house on this occasion.
The cat kept meowing at Cyndie and approaching her, so she decided to walk toward the closest neighbor’s place to see if the cat would act like that was where it belonged.
Yesterday, the cat showed up again, this time while I was cleaning up manure among the horses, and Asher was watching behind the gates of the overhang.
When I spotted it and hollered to Cyndie in hopes of her confining Asher, the dog saw it, too. Chaos ensued.
Asher squeezed under the fence and raced toward the cat. The horses startled and took off in a sprint, just missing clobbering me. I hollered at the dog, Cyndie hollered, and the cat waited until Asher circled just enough for it to dash off for the nearest tree.
We succeeded in luring Asher away with the help of his e-collar, but the cat remained in that tree for long after.
Cyndie posted a notice on the Nextdoor app in search of a possible owner. She feels the cat was behaving less like an outdoor stray, of which there are many in the area, and more like an indoor cat with a relationship to people. I’m not equally convinced.
There was no sign of it this morning, so maybe Asher’s harsh confrontation was enough encouragement to persuade the cat to seek attention elsewhere. That would be great for my heart. Facing the possibility of getting trampled by the horses was a little more adrenaline than I care for first thing in the morning.
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Fourteenth November
We are in our fourteenth November on these twenty acres and marveling over the thought that we have been tending these fields and forests for that long. Thinking back to when we first arrived, one particular vivid memory stays fresh in my mind. The very first time I ventured off-trail in our woods, I came upon the fresh, blood-red skeleton of an 8-point buck in a circle of hair and paw prints.
We had heard the excited yips of a pack of coyotes during the night a week before that, but didn’t realize how close to our house they were or what the ruckus actually meant. We’ve heard similar howling packs over the years since, sometimes triggered by an emergency vehicle siren, but haven’t come upon any similarly obvious evidence on our land like that carcass.
A stray bone is not uncommon, though.
Cyndie recently trained me in recognizing the invasive garlic mustard plant she has worked for years to disrupt, and we spent some time during an afternoon last week pulling sprouts in the areas off-trail that are less obvious. I found it a little overwhelming because it seems to be everywhere. We did what we could until my ability to cope was exhausted.
I can see why she just makes it a habit to pull whatever catches her eye when on our walks. She stuffs her pockets with plastic shopping bags to always have a way to bag and dispose of what she pulls up, an essential step in eradicating the highly destructive invasive.
There was a tiny oak sprout that caught my attention, barely tall enough to stand above the dead leaf blanket covering the ground in November. The leaves were so perfect. Apparently, too young to keep up with all the bigger trees that have the fall routine figured out.
It looks like today’s precipitation is sliding to our south, which is both good and bad. It’s nice that the horses will get a break from needing to deal with wetness in these cold temperatures. Their natural winter coats are coming in nicely, but their shaggy look quickly flattens out in the rain or wet snow.
The bad part of missing out on some rain or snow is that Paddock Lake is dry and will make for lousy skating this year. The residual growth was almost fluorescent green in the low spots.
My footprint was a result of retrieving the horses’ Jolly Ball that had rolled into the middle of the muddy remains of the “lake.” It’s always interesting to find the ball has been relocated from the spots where I place it, handle up, in hopes of enticing them to play.
We rarely have the privilege of catching them in the act. Occasionally, the ball disappears from the paddock. When it happened one time when the hay field grass was tall, we didn’t find it until the hay mower had sliced into it.
Fourteen Novembers of wonder and joy.
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Sail Down
Since we seem to be on a roll lately of preparing in advance for the coming winter, we decided to take down the shade sail yesterday. By saying, “in advance,” I am referring to how we have been taking care of things while the weather is pleasant instead of waiting until it starts getting nasty outside and we are forced to do it without delay.
I’m relieved that we barely had any wind to deal with because when a slight breeze occurred, the loosened sail suddenly pulled with surprising force. I can’t imagine trying to take the sail down every time the wind appeared to be getting too strong. Luckily, Mix showed up to hold the ladder for me when I started spinning the first turnbuckle.
When I moved the ladder to the opposite corner, Mia joined us to see if she could help, too.
It’s rewarding to see the horses remain calm while we are behaving in unusual ways. Yesterday, it was our working with the ladder and gathering up the large sail in our arms right in their midst. They showed a healthy curiosity, but didn’t startle over our strange activity.
For winter storage, I decided to hang the sail by its corners inside the barn, like I had done in the beginning, before the posts and framing were in place in the paddock.
I tightened the turnbuckles up to suspend it out of the way over our heads. It helps that Cyndie and I are both short people.
Without the sail, the framing still looks pretty good to me. It’s got character.
The extended weather forecast currently mentions a 30% possibility of a frozen mix of precipitation on Saturday. Having the sail taken down frees us from any concerns about how it will fare if that happens. It also allows us to keep our attention on how the horses will be coping in the event of cold, wet, and freezing conditions.
This time, they may be getting blankets instead of the rain sheets if it’s going to get as cold as is being predicted. The high temperature on Sunday may not even rise above freezing.
Oh my, that’s almost like the normal November weather of the good old days! Bring it on. This year, we are about as ready for winter weather as we’ve ever been. It’s kind of a reverse psychology thing. If we prepare for the worst, then maybe it won’t happen.
Especially since we also always hope for the best.
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Good Life
We woke yesterday morning with a glee hangover from our amazing David Byrne show Monday night, and it lingered throughout the day. Blessed with a fabulous climate-warmed summery-feeling November morning, we danced our way through the woods with Asher before approaching the barn to feed the horses.
We found the mares luxuriating in the emerging sunlight and mellow as ever. It got me thinking about how they stand so stoically to endure the miserable conditions when the weather is gruesome, as if they are aware that it never lasts, and that there will eventually be rewarding days like this as compensation.
Lately, mornings as nice as this one was –when the horses are calmly munching their feed and the natural world is as peaceful as ever– serve as a balm, soothing and comforting us. Coming on the heels of our evening of super special entertainment, it felt like we were getting a double dose of feel-good medicine.
Asher seemed to be enjoying the unusually nice weather as well, and it had him romping playfully all over the place. When I decided to try raking some leaves, he behaved like I was making piles for him to race through and kick all over the place.
For what I hope is the last time this year (never say never), I got out the riding mower to mulch the leaves in the backyard grass. Most of the trees that drop leaves have finished doing that, so it seemed like a reasonable time to finish tending to the grass in back.
When I put the mower back in the garage, I moved the ATV to the front and parked the mower behind it, a symbolic gesture in anticipation of the change from mowing season to snowplowing season.
After that, I started picking off little nuisance tasks that had been nagging at me for a while. I drove my car to the shop garage to put air in the tires. Then I brought our three most-used wheelbarrows up from the barn to inflate tires on those. I attached a recently purchased battery manager to the diesel tractor battery. It instantly kicked into “charging” mode. That tractor doesn’t get driven enough to keep the battery charged.
Cyndie cleaned and mended horse blankets. I moved a fresh batch of hay bales from the shed into the barn. We moved her picnic “door table” and chairs from beneath the big oak tree in the woods into the barn for winter storage.
Working outdoors felt like we’d been given a gift to accomplish all these things on such a pleasant weather day. With all of our animals showing irrepressible joy and contentment, it felt like we were living the (really) good life.
If only I could train my brain to retain the sense of this goodness with more weight than it does with the challenging days of harsh weather and difficult problems, I would be ever so grateful. That would be living an even better life.
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Sound Carries
Continuing with the theme of how serene it can be in our little paradise, particularly in the early morning, Cyndie and I caught ourselves being the “loud family” yesterday on our walk with Asher on the way to feed the horses. Sounds carry, we know that. Our immediate neighbor to the south has a phone ringer on one of his outbuildings that must be out of an old Bell Telephone rotary dial model. When it rings, it seems like it’s coming from within our paddock fence line.
When we emerged from the woods yesterday morning, the cloudy sky was particularly fascinating with a dramatic swirl directly overhead. I knew a photo wouldn’t capture the full essence of what our eyes were perceiving, but snapped a shot anyway.
When we walk and talk in the morning, it is common that one of us will get ahead or fall behind, pulling a weed or vine, so the projection of our voices picks up a bit as we carry on conversations. Suddenly, I’ll become aware that we are shouting at each other on an otherwise silent outdoor morning in such a way that the neighbors and the horses wouldn’t be able to miss.
Anybody outside yesterday would have heard us marveling over the spectacle in the sky, or how Asher was about to chase after a deer that had waited until he and I were only about four feet away before it bolted off through the trees, and our boy perfectly responded to my command to “Leave It!” and stayed with me.
The kind of conversational stories that a person can be so involved in telling that one loses track of how loud their voice has become. Yeah, way too many mornings, we are the loud family marching through the woods and along the back pasture to the barn, carrying on at the top of our lungs in the otherwise blissful serenity of our little valley.
“The Hayses are up and about,” the neighbors will announce.
With a chance of rain in the forecast and verifiably chilly temperatures, we put rain sheets on the horses yesterday morning while they were eating from their feed buckets. The precipitation didn’t show up until much later, but Light had made her own decision about being covered by the time it started to fall.
Cyndie found the blanket wadded up on the ground in the middle of the afternoon, bottom straps still clipped, and nothing ripped open. It must have been a fascinating sight to witness her Houdini performance of getting herself free of that. I’m confused about whether she pulled it up over her head or down off her butt. Had to be over her head. There’s no other way.
I’m glad to have missed it. Catching her in the middle of that would have been frightening. I wonder if she made a lot of noise while wiggling and wrangling it off of herself.
The way sound carries, the neighbors probably knew about it before we did.
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Foggy Scenes
Blocking out any problems in the world, life at Wintervale is filled with beauty, even when the weather conditions are frosty and foggy.
Ice crystals created an attractive white border around the edges of the leaves.
Did I mention it was foggy?
Despite the horses continuing to show fondness for the old willow tree in the small paddock, there continue to be signs that they are chewing it to shreds.
I used to think they were going to push it over by rubbing against it, but now I’m inclined to believe they will give it the beaver treatment and chew through the base.
Silly horses.
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Unplanned Accomplishments
We expected yesterday to be a rainy one, so I didn’t have it in my mind to tackle any big outdoor projects. In the middle of the morning, I grabbed a pruner and took Asher for a walk in our north loop field to trim a sprout of growth that looked like a willow tree in bush form. I am trying an experiment to see if I can cut off the outer shoots to push that energy into one main trunk to get it to become more of a tree than a bush.
That took mere minutes, as anticipated, allowing my attention to turn to Asher so I could burn off some of his energy before we got stuck indoors while it rained. However, it didn’t rain. After some running around and tug-of-war, we hung out and watched the horses taking a rest out in the hay field.
After lunch, I came out thinking I’d head to the shop to work on some heart carving, but it was nice enough that I decided to hop on the mower. I’ve been wanting to make one last pass around the inside of the fence lines this season, and just needed a time when the batteries were charged and the rest of the grass wasn’t the higher priority.
Bang. Check that off the list.
The horses spent most of the day out in the fields, so there was hardly any manure to clean up in the paddocks when we showed up to serve their afternoon feeding. I took advantage of that and moved my attention to clearing out a dormant compost pile. That is another task that is rarely urgent and thus lingers in wait for an opportunity to get around to it.
We often hear comments of wonder over how we are able to take care of all the work that needs to be done around here. It occurred to me yesterday that all of the things I accomplished were unplanned, and that becomes the secret. Take small bites of the large pie of things that need doing whenever the chances arise.
The rain finally showed up after dark while we were snugged in watching the 4th game of the World Series. I was smugly enjoying unexpectedly getting multiple things done and checked off the mental to-do list.
It’s a little sweeter because none of that was in my vision when I started the day.
Horse Happenings
For the record, my legs are feeling stiff from Wednesday’s up and down, crouching, kneeling, walking, and bending effort to clear the weeds. Just in time for a planned bicycling outing this Sunday. How soon do I get to say I’m too old for this?
I took a picture of Mix receiving a syringe of medicine in the side of her mouth from Cyndie. Mix makes ridiculous faces after Cyndie squirts the dose into her mouth, vividly demonstrating her disgust at the insult. Cyndie has taken to adding an equal amount of applesauce in hopes of masking the flavor that bothers Mix.
The reaction was less extreme with the flavor enhancer.
Maddy, from This Old Horse, was over yesterday, and she thought Mix looked like she was moving with less pain, so the icky medicine is probably helping to some degree.
The reason Maddy was here was for an appointment with a new (to us) farrier. He seemed like a young guy to me, especially considering his name was Ralph, which aligns more with my dad’s generation. Ralph came across as a man of few words, but he let his work do most of the talking. He was efficient and handled the horses’ occasional resistance with gentle patience. That is a welcome change from the previous person who was doing the job.
We were graced with a day of much-improved weather yesterday. All it takes is a clear blue sky and wind speeds of zero for the sunshine to soften the blow after a night cold enough to produce a block of ice in our rain gauge.
The low sun brought a golden glow to the dry corn stalks in the fields and cast a long shadow in the late afternoon hour.
We removed the rain sheets from the horses for a few days because of the nicer weather. As much as possible, we want to encourage the growth of the horses’ natural winter coats, and providing the artificial warmth of blankets can send their bodies the wrong signal, reducing the need for more insulation.
I don’t know if science supports that idea, but it satisfies our intuitive perceptions, so we go with it. If the horses shiver, they get blankets. In the meantime, they gotta grow more hair.
That’s some horse happenings as we reach the last week of October, 2025.
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Relative Something 