Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Spring Scenes
Among the range of memories lingering from our night out to see Neil deGrasse Tyson’s talk about a cosmic perspective, these have been prominent: The earth wants to kill us and the universe wants to kill us. As if supporting evidence for these statements were even necessary, Neil provided simple lists.
Earth:
- earthquakes
- volcanoes
- hurricanes
- tornadoes
- droughts
- wildfires
- floods
He introduced this segment with a reference to people who rhapsodize longingly about flowers and trees and all the romance and beauty in Mother Nature’s spectacular displays. Brings to my mind amazing sunrises and sunsets, waterfalls, ocean waves, golden fields, and gorgeous forests.
The contrast provided one of the many chuckles evoked throughout his presentation.
Universe:
- solar flares
- radiation bursts
- black holes
- supernovas
- asteroids
- meteors
Bringing this information forward in my consciousness had me looking at things with a fresh reference on our walks around the property yesterday. It’s impressive to survive long enough that we generally grow callous to most all of these hazardous natural threats. Some of the earth weather risks don’t get buried all that far away in our minds, but I have tended to view them as more neutral threats than as earth’s intended attempts to snuff me out.
The spring scenes we came upon in yesterday morning’s snowscape included the barn towels that were hanging out to dry from the day before.
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When the horses don’t finish eating before we head back to the house, we leave the feed pans out. It makes for some interesting finds upon our return.
Muddy hoof prints are the least offensive version of soiled pans we’ve had to clean out.
After the sun showed through the thinning cloud cover, the snow evaporated except for places that were shadowed. It made for some cool scenes in the woods.
This morning there is no snow left and we haven’t received new precipitation in the last 24 hours. A big sigh of relief for a day or two.
It looks to be another day when the earth won’t kill us. I can’t say for sure what the universe has in store.
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New Treats
We just put out new-style treats for the horses that will also double as boredom busters. It’s an “Uncle Jimmy’s Hangin’ Ball” and it must smell pretty yummy to a horse, based on Mix’s reaction.
She immediately gave it a few long pulls of inhalation as the ball bobbed to and fro and then…
A perfect demonstration of the flehmen response by a horse. It is a way horses perform a little deeper investigation of a scent and Mix was very interested in the way this treat smelled.
We hung two, one on each side of the overhang, where they can’t push the ball up against a firm surface. The intention is to occupy more of their time and ingenuity as they work to sink their teeth into successful bites of the swinging treats. I suspect they might just end up licking their way to the centers.
If they take too long to consume the flavored balls of grains, I won’t be surprised if these colossal treats get the attention of every bird in the surrounding vicinity who will gladly show the horses how it is done.
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Synchronized Sleeping
Our herd of four like to pair up in twos and yesterday at their mid-morning nap time they looked downright synchronized.
Mix and Swings have their snouts on the ground while they are sawing zzzzzs and Light and Mia are about as side by side as possible pretending that they are not nodding off during their shift on watch.
During the afternoon feeding, Cyndie took advantage of the food distraction to detangle a snarled dreadlock in Mix’s tail that was never going to come out naturally. Mix seemed to understand what was going on back there and gladly tolerated the activity.
I have no idea how wild horses must deal with this kind of thing.
In ever so small steps, the horses are showing hints of developing the beginnings of a possible bond with us. If I could hedge that statement any more, I would. I’m not sure that it is any more them adjusting to us or the other way around.
Yesterday morning, they were almost perfectly matching our intentional routine without a fuss until Mix made one slight gesture toward Light and Light accidentally smacked her neck against the corner of a fence post in her frantic attempt to instantly exit stage right.
Think of how you feel when you stub your toe in a major way and that will inform you of how Light looked in the ensuing seconds.
She stood on three feet while flexing her front right leg for long enough I began to wonder if there was a bigger problem than just stinging pain. Then she set it back on the ground and shook her head like she was trying to get out cobwebs. She repeated both actions one time, in shorter intervals and then seemed to be over the worst of it.
I looked at the fence post and found a surprising tuft of her hair lodged on the corner. My gosh, that must have hurt. Checking her neck, the spot of impact was obvious but hadn’t broken her skin. It looked a lot like the places on their butts where they get bitten by each other.
Makes me think about how much those nips must hurt. That explains why they react so frantically to get the heck away when aggressors pin back their ears. Keeping their butts just out of reach of a biting threat is a high priority born of experience.
Next thing you know, they are napping together peacefully.
Thunderstorms and sunshine.
War and peace.
Do we really need the first in order to appreciate the second?
I could do without the warring part of the equation, thank you very much.
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Ridiculous Reality
Reality can be downright absurd. Still, we take what we get and forge ahead because reality doesn’t go away no matter how much we sometimes pretend things are otherwise. Regardless of how many distractions we find to escape into fantasy, reality is always there, waiting for us to return.
Our reality this morning at Wintervale is a rock-hard freeze of 13°F (-10°C), locking the mishmash of mud in the paddocks into an almost unnavigable pockmarked surface. Too bad that didn’t prevent the two chestnuts, Mia and Light, from almost running me over in a panicked retreat from the aggressive posturing of Mix. She has an annoyingly consistent need to disrupt the bucolic serenity by encroaching on the feeding space of Mia and Light.
At least we were able to enjoy a quick return to calm after forcing Mix back to where we could close some gates and allow better-protected feed pan grazing to resume.
The clear blue sky and bright sunshine are beautiful, but the ridiculous winter temperature at this point of our early spring is a bit of a slap in our faces.
On a stroll yesterday afternoon we took a moment to cut some branches with a handsaw in completion of a mid-way walking route through our woods. We added the first half of this shortcut path last fall and have enjoyed walking it so much we were inspired to complete the last portion. It will be nice to have the route adequately established before all the greenery explodes that would otherwise obscure it.
When we reached the clearing of our perimeter trail, I took a moment to re-stack a couple columns of balanced rocks that winter toppled.
How long do you think it will be until those views turn green again?
It’s gonna take a lot warmer temperatures than we are enduring lately, I know that much. A few warm days in a row and green growth will start showing up everywhere.
It hasn’t arrived yet, but we can see the month of April from where we are standing. It makes it all the more ridiculous that it feels like January today.
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Not Deep
If there is any consolation to be found in the mud we are currently enduring in the paddocks, it’s the fact that it isn’t very deep. Now, I’m not sure how much of that is a result of the underlying frost that has yet to thaw or the base of limestone screenings we’ve established over the years.
It is an entirely slippery, sloppy mess to move around on, but at least it doesn’t swallow my boots like deep mud does. I keep wanting to simply pack it down smooth but it doesn’t really pack. It just squishes out from under our boots or the horses’ hooves and leaves a new impression.
You can see my frequent back and forth path while returning to the wheelbarrow to dump scoops of what is now mud-poop. I’m collecting a mix that seems about 60% mud and 40% manure lately. It was actually easier to scrape the winter’s worth of mushy droppings off the mostly frozen ground than it is trying to scoop daily fresh poop this week.
Yesterday afternoon, Cyndie offered the horses a little grooming while they ate feed from the pans. Light accepted a little attention but didn’t last long before she decided she’d had enough.
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They seem to prefer their muddy coats for the time being.
Think about it. If Cyndie did succeed in brushing any of them head to toe, you know what they would do? Walk out, lay down, and roll around as soon as she finished.
It’s what they do.
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Foot Work
With a fresh glaze of wet snow covering the ground and mud reaching its peak on the trails and in the paddocks, yesterday the horses had an appointment with their farrier. Convincing the horses that they should accept a halter for a few hours even though they weren’t particularly interested in doing so became a challenging dance of slippery, muddy footsteps.
With the added help from two representatives of the rescue organization, This Old Horse, the process went just fine and the herd is good for another 8 weeks.
We already had the herd separated between the two paddocks so Cyndie just had to occupy one horse while another was getting trimmed.
The last few times these four horses have been trimmed, Light was the least cooperative about standing on three feet and only received partial service. Yesterday, she didn’t relax entirely, but she did hang in there long enough for the farrier to complete all four hooves.
I’d say they all look really great now, except for the fact it’s hard to notice because their feet are submerged in mud most of the time.
When we are done at the barn and ready to head back up to the house, it’s time for the boots on our feet to get some attention. The residual piles of plowed snow provide the perfect boot scrubber.
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Too bad the snow is disappearing so fast now that these few remaining piles will be gone long before the mud is.
The boot scrubbing brush outside our front door is an alternative, but it doesn’t work nearly as well as the old snow.
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Spring Cleaned
It is with much pride I can report the paddocks are now cleaned of the winter’s-worth accumulation of manure. It only took two and a half wheelbarrow loads. Loads that I will point out were much heavier than usual due to the highly saturated wetness of the droppings.
On top of that, movement of the multiple heavy loads was made particularly more difficult by the soft, slippery, muddy paddock surface highly pockmarked by water-filled hoof divots.
Therefore, my pride over the ignoble accomplishment. It was no easy feat, but that contributes all the more reward to having this spring cleaning job done.
I started while the horses were eating and when Mia finished she came out to join me. For some reason, it is not uncommon for one or another of the horses to take an interest in the wheelbarrow when I am plying my collection skills. It was as if Mia was standing guard while I ventured off in every direction to pick up piles.
It wasn’t until I decided to pause and take a picture of her that I noticed the other three horses had gathered at the waterer in what looked like a meeting of their minds. None of the three showed any urge to drink. They just stood in place for the longest time, facing each other.
As I resumed my spring paddock cleaning, I could hear Mia making contact with the wheelbarrow with her legs. One might assume she was rubbing against the object to scratch an itch except that there was little in the way of rubbing. She would push up against it and then stand stationary until deciding to adjust her position a little and push against it again and just stand.
Eventually, since there was a lot of old, wet manure and I work rather slowly, Mia began to get sleepy.
The ambient outdoor sounds and my methodical plodding/squishing to and fro, frequently tapping the fork against the edge of the wheelbarrow to release the messes I picked up, became a white noise that seemed to lull the horses into drowsiness. The other three were still standing together at the waterer, looking equally sleepy.
My stopping to take another picture of Mia as her eyes drooped broke the spell. By not continuing to walk around and periodically tap the wheelbarrow, I changed the routine sound of their white noise. Mia noticed instantly.
It was as if she was looking at me to convey, “Why did you stop and become quiet?”
Maybe she didn’t want me taking a picture of her muddy appearance with her eyes half-closed.
Yesterday afternoon, when I was cleaning up the day’s new manure, I discovered the next challenge for the wet weeks ahead will be differentiating between new manure piles and mud pushed up by a heavy hoof.
Keeping paddocks pristine is definitely an imperfect science.
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Horses Shedding
It’s that time of year when horsehair starts showing up everywhere. When you touch them, their hair gets on your gloves. When you rub them, the shedding hair gets in the air. With hair floating on the wind, it gets in your face. If you reach up to swipe the hair from your face, you get more hair than you bargained for.
Case in point:
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Cyndie’s brother, Steve, paid me a visit while his sister is in Florida. We stopped by a paddock gate to visit with the horses and found several of them showing interest in allowing us to give them scratches. Swings stopped by first. She stood for a bit with her nose just at the gate, breathing in our scent. I turned away for a moment and when I looked back, she had stepped forward and was reaching her head completely over the gate.
Steve and I both happily obliged her willingness and rubbed our gloved hands on her head and neck where she seemed to want some scratching action.
Upon receiving her fill, Swings stepped away and Mix moved in for her own dose of similar attention. Mix has a bit of a runny nostril and appeared to think Steve’s jacket served as a fine “tissue” for wiping her nose. Undaunted, Steve served her up a good massage around her head, coming away with two hands full of Mix’s hair.
Steve was playing in a hockey tournament in River Falls this weekend.
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I was able to show up and watch their first game on Friday night and then Steve and I visited a sports bar with live music on Main Street for a late dinner. He came back to our house to spend the night before heading back to River Falls for his second game, after a leisurely morning that included a walk with Delilah and the time with our horses.
Hopefully, Steve wasn’t still finding horsehair clinging to him while he was trying to chase the puck around in game two. I stayed home to enjoy all the shedded hair showing up in our house, and on my clothes, stuck to my boots, on our furniture, getting in my mouth, blowing like tumbleweed across the paddocks…
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Ground Visible
The change of seasons is marching full ahead with great results. I appreciate that our snowpack’s meltdown has been happening at a perfectly gradual pace. It’s been cool enough during the overnights that melting pauses so the runoff has been controlled, for the most part.
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Delilah and I found the fields entirely bare when we emerged from the woods where there was still snow covering the ground on our morning stroll.
By afternoon, water was flowing as the melting of remaining snow picked up again. It is very rewarding to witness the unimpeded drainage flowing where Cyndie and I worked hard to correct the grade in front of her perennial garden last year.
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My “swale” in the paddock hadn’t maintained its shape nearly as well and the water was draining randomly across the main travel path of two gateways where hoof prints in the soft earth disrupt any coordinated drainage. While cleaning up manure yesterday afternoon, I did a rudimentary job of stemming the flow as best I could, using the flimsy plastic tines of my fork scoop tool.
I want the water to flow out of the paddock to the left of the gate opening to the hayfield, not across the primary travel pattern of the horses. Any attempts I make toward achieving this goal end up getting stomped on by horses who don’t seem to notice what my efforts are intended to accomplish for them.
It’s almost like they have no idea how much they weigh and the amount of disruption in soft, wet soil they create.
One other creature who has no idea how much of a disaster she creates is Delilah. She prances around everywhere she pleases in the snow and mud and then assumes a little toweling off when we come inside the house and she’s good to go.
Sweeping the floor is an adventure after practically every outing.
Yeah, the ground is visible alright.
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Complex Threads
When headspace is getting cluttered by whatever the catastrophe of the day is, it becomes a struggle to maintain a healthy effort toward cultivating daily awareness of the goodness that surrounds me. The innocent joy visible in Delilah’s eyes reveals she isn’t thinking about the ills of war currently happening in Ukraine. I’m not so lucky.
I wish I didn’t have to know about the complexities of what Russia’s Putin will do if he doesn’t get what he wants.
My present concerns about the challenges faced by the people of Ukraine bring up complicated questions I find myself asking about why this deserves any more attention than similar traumas in all the other regions of the world where large populations of civilians have been displaced by lethal conflicts.
Meanwhile, the calamities unfolding every day from the impact of human-driven climate change rage undiminished by any other distractions that succeed in grabbing my attention. How many billion dollars of damage occurred somewhere in the world from flooding rains, wildfires, or wind storms this week?
That doesn’t take anything away from a blissful moment of interaction I was able to experience with Mia yesterday. While a very spring-like snow shower made it look like we were in a snow-globe scene, I wandered up to one of the paddock gates to visit the horses. Mia came up to meet me.
In a rare instance where she didn’t choose to make it a short visit, I found myself looking for ways to give her whatever attention she might desire. After she satisfied herself with facing me and breathing in my smell, she turned around and very obviously waited to see if I would scratch her butt.
How could I resist? While it is true that presenting their butt can be a way a horse shows disrespect or harmful intent, given the circumstances, I read Mia’s behavior as totally benign.
It was snowing and she was wet, plus my reach was limited through the gate, so she received a rather rudimentary scratching. Regardless, she definitely seemed receptive to the attention and followed it up by turning around again to present her mane, which I spotted had quite a dreadlocked snarl.
To my great surprise, she stood patiently while I feebly struggled to make meaningful progress toward detangling the incredibly tight twists of several sections of hair. I did what I could, trying to take advantage of her willingness, but this was a project that needed more than I could provide through a gate amid wet, falling snowflakes.
She decided to present her butt for more attention one last time before I departed from my little impromptu visit.
Before bedtime last night, as I stood at the mirror in the luxury of my bathroom to brush my teeth, I thought about the complexity of my joys and comforts as they contrast with the simultaneous hostility others are suffering.
Somehow, it seems I shouldn’t allow the ills of the world to squelch the goodness I enjoy, but it would be easier to reconcile the dichotomy of the two if my happiness had influence toward easing the difficulties others are forced to endure.
Complex threads, indeed.
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Relative Something 