Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Survivor’s Guilt
Every time incredibly tragic situations are reported in the news for days on end I begin to question my luck. How is it that I was born into the comfort I enjoyed throughout my lifetime? Lately, it has been the crumbled concrete buildings in Turkey and Syria that are causing me to wonder about how my life experience compares to a baby found alive in the rubble, still attached to its dead mother by the umbilical cord.
How many challenges lie ahead for that child and the rest of the survivors in the damaged areas?
Secure in our warm house with a solid roof and sturdy walls, I tucked myself beneath comforting blankets in a wonderful bed and slept safely last night. How do I deserve such luxury?
Even while a large number of people were attacking my nation’s capital in an attempt to overthrow our democracy in 2021, I was safe at home experiencing no physical threat. I felt a lot of shame and embarrassment, but otherwise, the impact on me at home was imperceptible.
People around the world live in situations of war, droughts, famine, overcrowding, poverty, or crime that impact their daily existence. Why have I been able to live free of these challenges? Obviously, there is no guarantee that I won’t suffer this kind of fate in the future, but at my age, I will still feel lucky that I had so many good years if things all of a sudden turn bad now.
There but for the grace of God, go I.
I gained a new insight yesterday about how the hay boxes get pulled away from the back wall of the overhang. Don’t know why I never considered this before. I had set out the feed pans for the horses and while they were eating, I was scoopin’ poop and filling up my wheelbarrow. I didn’t see what provoked it but I looked up just as Light was lunging toward Swings.
In her moment of panicked reaction, Swings’ emergency evacuation from the vicinity cause her to knock the hay box almost 90°. The repositioned box had nothing to do with frivolity or overzealous efforts to consume hay. It was simply collateral damage from a dramatic escape.
I verbally shared my unhappiness about the incident with Light but she showed little interest in my opinion about the issue, whatever it was.
Ending on a positive note, I’m pleased to report that Cyndie has recovered enough to drive a car on her own again. It’s been 3-and-a-half months since she drove a vehicle. That’s a very large step in regaining her independence.
I can say that my survival of being her full-time chauffeur during that period has been entirely guilt-free.
However, there have been moments of wondering how I’ve been so lucky as to not be the one who broke an ankle last November.
.
.
Fun Frolic
For those who don’t have concerns about melting temperatures during winter, yesterday was gorgeous on the ranch. After feeding two of the horses an extra portion at noon, I decided to walk out into the hay field to see if any of them might follow me out into the deeper snow.
Light and Mia took immediate notice of my unusual behavior, walking to the opening in the fence to think about their next move. Mia decided to approach me. Light turned around and took a few steps back toward the barn.
Mia made her way right up to me and stopped for an exchange of greetings, sniffing to make sure I was who she suspected me to be. Then she decided to just keep going and walked past me further up the hill.
When I turned back around toward the barn, I was shocked to see that Light had made it all the way up behind me without making a sound. I have no idea how horses are able to approach so quickly with such stealth.
I stayed put as the horses meandered off on their own, heading toward one of their favored corners of the field. Making their way toward the fence line, Light started to pick up the pace. A trot became a run and after making a turn, the two chestnuts broke out in a glorious top-speed sprint back to the paddock.
After navigating the sharp turn through the gate at high velocity, they vented all their amped-up energy by rearing on their hind legs and vigorously turning around in loops. It’s incredibly invigorating to witness up close, horses choosing to exert themselves to such extreme on their own terms.
I think I had as much fun watching the horses as they had frolicking in the uncharacteristic warmth of the beautiful afternoon.
.
.
Winter Lull
We are enjoying a pause in the harsh, cold winter temperatures this week. It truly is a welcome relief for those of us who have to do things outdoors every day no matter what the weather is like. Hanging out with our horses, cleaning up around them, and feeding them, I get a very good sense of how much more at ease they are now that we’ve come out of the latest blast of extreme cold.
Those wicked cold mornings have the horses looking so stoic as they stiffly brace themselves against the stinging bite of the frigid air. They do very little moving to conserve what little warmth is lingering under their winter growth right up to the moment they prepare for the delivery of their feed pans by romping about, running, and kicking to jump-start their circulation.
In contrast, their lack of stiffness yesterday morning energized me. The horses radiated a feeling of ease and contentedness that stood out more than usual because of how different it was from just days before.
There has been a lull in snowfall for many more days than the cold temps, and the snow in the paddocks is getting thoroughly beaten down as a result. It remains deep enough in the fields that they have barely ventured beyond the fences but there are some tracks out there.
It’s unclear to me how many of those footprints are evidence of new activity or old tracks emerging as sunny afternoons have started to shrink back some of the coverage.
Yesterday afternoon, I lingered for a long time, leaning against a gate to watch their activity after they had all finished eating from the feed pans. They were just being horses with no urgent agenda.
It made me want to be a horse along with them —a horse during a warm spell on a February day.
When it’s cold again, I want to be a human living indoors.
.
.
.
.
.
Every Step
I spotted an impressive phenomenon of nature after heading down to the barn yesterday morning.
Each and every small animal footprint through the snow had captured a fallen oak leaf.
The latest air mass of bitterly cold temperatures has left us for the east coast. At noon today, I plan to give the horses a break from wearing blankets again. Other than the off-and-on annoying sounds of snowmobile engines passing by, it is calm and quiet under the hazy sunshine in our valley.
As the air warms it becomes obvious that the thick snowpack becomes its own refrigerant, radiating cold from below. Even though the daily high temperatures are forecast to rise above freezing, it doesn’t guarantee it will feel as warm as thermometers indicate.
However, with all things being relative, any above-zero temperatures offer welcome relief after extreme cold spells like we endured Thursday night/Friday morning. The horses seemed to begrudgingly tolerate the pain, gritting their teeth and standing still in a meditative state that hid any spark of life in their eyes.
This morning, they looked much more alive and were a smidge more active. I think they will be as happy as me to be granted several days of ease, free of the brutal grip of dramatically cold air masses.
.
.
November Third
It was a Thursday, almost three months ago on November 3rd, when Cyndie took Delilah for a walk while we were up at the lake place. We had just spent two days watching some major tree trimming and removal on the Wildwood properties. As Cyndie reached the top step of the bridge that crosses a lagoon, Delilah bolted after a squirrel and yanked Cyndie back down to the ground. The impact snapped bones at her ankle.
Today, she sees the surgeon who screwed plates to her bones for an assessment of the healing and, hopefully, the doctor’s permission to begin physical therapy to walk again.
This has been our life since that fateful incident:
- Thu Nov 3 – Anxious trip to Hayward Hospital emergency room with a suspected broken ankle.
- Fri Nov 4 – Drive home from the lake with Cyndie in the back seat calling around for an appointment to be seen by a surgeon.
- Mon Nov 7 – Drive to Woodbury for analysis by a trauma surgeon, then to Stillwater for a CT scan and COVID test.
- Wed Nov 9 – Cyndie has surgery on her ankle in Stillwater, receiving metal plates and many screws to hold things together.
- Thu Nov 10 – Delilah’s stomach issues (vomiting) becoming increasingly worrisome.
- Fri Nov 11 – I bring Cyndie home from Stillwater hospital. Delilah has the first of a series of vet appointments.
- Sat Nov 19 – Delilah has been refusing to accept prescribed medication and a new diet.
- Mon Nov 21 – Delilah was put to rest by the veterinarian due to suspected acute pancreatitis.
- Tue Nov 22 – Discover cut on Mix’s leg that requires a visit by the equine vet for assessment and treatment, including medications.
- Wed Nov 23 – Mix refuses to accept medications I added to her food. Johanne from This Old Horse starts coming twice a day to administer meds.
- Mon Nov 28 – Drive Cyndie to Woodbury to have stitches removed from her ankle.
- Tue Nov 29 – First big snowstorm of the year that needed to be plowed.
- Wed Dec 14 – Drive Cyndie to Stillwater for bone density test.
- Thu Dec 15 – Second big snowstorm requiring plowing.
- Thu Dec 22 – Mia gives me a big scare with an episode of choking in the middle of eating her evening feed. Minor snowfall forces more plowing.
- Mon Dec 26 – Plowing required to clear drifts from the driveway as a result of blowing snow.
- Wed Dec 28 – More plowing is needed to clear drifting snow.
- Tue Jan 3 – Another brutal snowstorm.
- Thu Jan 5 – More snow. As soon as one session of plowing is done, the process starts all over again.
- Tue Jan 10 – Farrier visits to trim all four horses.
- Thu Jan 19 – Heavy, wet snowfall triggers another round of plowing and shoveling.
In the previous ten and a half weeks, per the doctor’s order, Cyndie has avoided putting any weight on her right ankle. We have had our eyes set on this day as the time when she might be allowed to begin the process of returning to the fine art of walking on two feet again.
It feels like it’s been a long time since November 3rd but the time we anticipate it taking Cyndie to recuperate fully will be magnitudes greater, along the lines of possibly a year or so, if not longer. It’s a rather harsh notion to consider, given the challenging terrain of our property.
Today’s assessment by the trauma surgeon about the amount of healing that has occurred in her broken bones is very important to both of us. It makes January 23rd the next milestone after November 3rd from which we will begin measuring her ultimate recovery to safely walking on both her feet without supplemental support.
Here’s hoping for some great news!
.
.
Mostly Fine
For the most part, we are good for now. The driveway is plowed, including the circle around the hay shed, allowing vehicle traffic. The weather looks to be settled for a few days of gray skies and temperatures below freezing. The thing that nags at me is that a change in either direction will produce complications I would prefer to avoid.
Here is a shot revealing the amount of pavement that has been lost to the mounds on the sides of the driveway that have gotten too high for my plow blade to be effective:
Ideally, I would plow the snow one blade width beyond the pavement to have room for the next big snowstorm.
Conversely, when temperatures climb above freezing and our snowpack begins to melt, I will be faced with a long period of water draining across the slope of pavement by the shop garage because I gave in and left a large amount of snow on the asphalt.
Water draining across that slope re-freezes most nights and becomes a real nuisance.
I suppose I could crank up the diesel tractor, scoop up the snow in the loader, and dump it on the downhill side of the pavement. I’m a little wary about the chains on the tires abusing our new asphalt. It’s like not wanting to see the first scratch in a new car’s paint.
More in the moment, this morning’s session with the horses was a delight in the magical frosty calm of a perfect winter day. After making it through the last storm without blankets, the herd seems content with their situation. They are all (mostly) dry and the footing is reasonable –not icy, not too deep or sticky.
When no vehicles were traveling past our place it was particularly calm and quiet. Not even a single neighboring dog could be heard making its usual announcement of existence.
“I’m here! It’s ME! Can you hear me barking over and over?”
After devouring their feed, the horses showed zero urgencies about switching to munching hay. There was nothing except a powerful sense of contentment.
I stood silently observing them for a few minutes before quietly making my departure toward the house for my breakfast.
For now, everything is perfectly fine.
.
.
Coffee Carafe
It appears that the “answer” image to yesterday’s guessing game was not as revealing as I suspected. The pictures are of a thermal coffee carafe.
One thing you can be sure of, I didn’t recently become a coffee drinker. Why was I carrying the carafe with me on my walk through the woods the other day? The simple answer is that it was holding warm water for soaking Mia’s serving of cereal, but I have an insatiable urge to make short stories long.
Travel back in time with me to the bitter cold days in December when Mia experienced an episode of choking on her feed pellets. It was recommended that I soak her feed in water to soften it for her. With below-zero temperatures quickly freezing everything, I put hot tap water in the thermal carafe and brought it with me to the barn.
I’ve asked a couple of times about how long I need to continue doing this for Mia and without telling me explicitly to do it forever, the consistent advice has been to continue soaking Mia’s feed indefinitely.
To me, that seems a little like doing it forever.
I haven’t decided if I believe Mia needs her food softened from now on, but at this point, who am I to make that decision? So, thus far, I have continued to bring warm water with me when feeding the horses. On the day I decided to walk through the woods on my way to the barn, I carried the carafe with me. I set it down in the snow to take a picture of the trail where one measly branch lay across it in the snow.
When I looked down to pick up the carafe, I saw the fish-eye reflection of the trees above and experimented with a few iPhone camera pictures.
I figured a thermal coffee carafe would not be the first guess that occurred in people’s minds.
Thanks to all of you who played along on yesterday’s edition of my image-guessing challenge!
.
.
Hay There
We woke up to an icy coating yesterday that ranked in the top 4 slipperiest conditions we’ve dealt with since moving here. The saving grace was how quickly the temperature warmed to a level where everything softened and footing was a little less treacherous. I needed to transfer some hay from the hay shed to the barn but decided it could wait until it wasn’t so slippery.
Our hay stores are down to a little under half the total amount delivered last year.
I’m hoping we won’t need another delivery until after the snow melts because the plowed mountains around the turns won’t accommodate the poor turning radius of our hay guy’s lengthy truck and goose-neck trailer.
In the early afternoon, I moved three bales per trip from the shed to the barn under the watchful eyes of the horses. Mix seemed to be counting the bales as I rolled back and forth. Maybe they were just looking to see if I’d slip.
Twelve bales in the barn is a number that works to keep me from feeling like I’m constantly making this transfer. Any more and the stack would be over my head.
While filling hay nets a few days ago, I felt a wave of summer memories as I pulled flakes off a bale. I pondered about what the field was like where this grass had grown and how hot it was when they were raking and baling this hay.
I wonder if the horses can tell the difference between bales from different parts of the hay field as they chomp bite-fulls through the nets or from the hay boxes. They certainly know when a bite is good to eat or deserves to be dropped to the ground.
Hopefully, they are sensing the solar energy stored in the dried blades of grass. Maybe that contributes to how horses eating hay helps keep them warm when the weather is cold. They are eating that echo of warmth from back in the hot summer days when the hay was baled.
There must be something to it. I tend to get warmer when I’m breaking open bales and stuffing flakes into net bags, one after another.
.
.
Best Thing
It was a farrier day on the ranch yesterday. That is when the horses get the 8-10 week growth of their hooves trimmed back. One of the best things about farrier day is that Cyndie always wants to serve treats to the farrier and the two folks from This Old Horse who show up to facilitate the process. That meant I took off my “horse wrangler” hat for a couple of hours in order to wear my “baker’s assistant” hat in the kitchen.
The aromas in Cyndie’s kitchen when she is baking cookies always beats the aromas wafting around down at the barn.
Imagine, if you will, the smell of the ginger biscuit cookies, mingling with the almond spritz, and the chai spritz cookies fresh out of the hot oven. Really, the cookies aren’t the best thing as much as the aroma of the cookies is the best thing. Anticipation usually beats out a real event when it comes to our perceptions.
The satisfying crunch and the explosion of sweet flavors certainly deserve plenty of votes for the best thing, but that aroma is tops. Maybe it’s because the delicious smells show up first and hang around longer than it takes to finish baking them.
I was able to receive a moment of satisfaction after putting my “horse wrangler” hat back on, upon successfully getting halters on all four horses before the crew showed up at the appointed hour. I started with Swings but ended up leaving her until last when she made it clear she wasn’t interested. The other three accepted their halters without hesitation, much to my relief. Swings required my patient persistence before she finally stayed still long enough for me to get a strap over her nose and another one over the back of her neck to slide through the buckle.
She just needs to flaunt her bad self several times until she can convey that she’s choosing to wear the halter on her terms, not ours. There’s probably a term for humans who behave that way but I hesitate to assign any such labels to our mares, especially since Swings is the oldest.
She’s probably earned the right to demand a little extra respect.
I could argue that the best thing about the day was that the farrier succeeded in hitting all 16 hooves within the hour she had available because it might be the first time one of the horses (can you say, Light?) didn’t pitch a fit and lose trimming privileges on one or more feet by the end of the session.
Granted, Light did end up receiving only rudimentary filing on her fronts, but none of the horses’ hooves required much more than that this time around so we are calling yesterday’s session a victory.
Plus, there are cookies left over for John and Cyndie to enjoy. That’s just the best, don’t you think?
.
.
Greatest Accomplishment
I’ve been contemplating a life well-lived after remotely participating in a funeral online last week and then learning of an anticipated death in our friends’ family. Being in the phase of life when I’m closer to my death than I am to my birth, it occurs to me that my greatest accomplishments are quite possibly behind me as opposed to yet to come.
Most days, I feel that my greatest achievement happened when I took action to get treatment for depression. After many years of self-denial about what I was battling, receiving the confirmation of a professional diagnosis was the key that opened the door for my journey toward healthy thinking. Initially relying on medication and talk therapy to interrupt a life-long pattern of dysfunctional thinking, I eventually gained enough command of my faculties to cope on my own, medication-free.
One book I found helpful is “Undoing Depression: What Therapy Doesn’t Teach You and Medication Can’t Give You” by Richard O’Connor.
I still need to treat my natural inclination toward depression every day with healthy thinking, a reasonable diet, regular exercise, and good-quality sleep habits, but reaching the point where I don’t require support from the medical health industry is something I am proud to have achieved.
Last November and December brought a fresh challenge for me in managing the chemicals bathing my brain in the face of grief and fatigue. The combination of needing to first put down our cat, Pequenita, and then our dog, Delilah, mixed with striving to cope with Cyndie’s unexpected injury pushed me to my limits. I was the sole person tending to the horses (during which two highly stressful horse-health challenges arose), cleared snow after two significant snowfall events, and took over all tasks caring for Cyndie and the house while she is laid up.
The physical fatigue left me susceptible to allowing my old familiar depressive behaviors to return. I don’t find that worrisome because years of good mental health have provided a fresh setting for “normal” that I use for reference, allowing me to notice when intervention is warranted. I have a variety of options to employ but the key to being able to self-treat my depression is the “noticing” and consciously changing something in response.
Mostly, I change my thinking. My thoughts are a major trigger to the chemical reactions going on in my brain and body. Sometimes I just need a nap. Often times I just need more time. Especially when the trigger is grief.
Speaking of grief, the horses were giving me some grief recently. This is a case where it would have been nice to have a camera recording what goes on under the overhang when we are not around.
Somehow they picked up the grate in one of the slow feeder boxes and turned it sideways. I guess they’ve got some great accomplishments of their own to neigh about.
.
.
Relative Something 