Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Animal Escapades
I don’t think I’ve written much about the success we’ve been having with Asher mostly staying in contact with us when we let him be off-leash outside. We’ve been training him with an e-collar, but I don’t think he is as influenced by the collar so much as he’s just maturing and becoming ever more aware of our routine and understanding our property boundaries.
He is frequently content to sit and watch the scenes across our landscape, taking in all the scents that pass his way.
Yesterday, he was taking a particular interest in the horses. I looked up from a project I was working on when I heard the thundering sound of hooves and caught a glimpse of Mix running in from the hay field.
Asher didn’t even twitch. He just watched her approach. I don’t know what got into Mix, but she then ran right back out again. It was as if she just wanted the exercise, but I knew that wasn’t true.
Although, she did then run right back in one more time. That was too much for Asher. He jumped up and ran to the paddock fence to meet her energy. Of course, he didn’t have any plan once he got there. They just stood for a moment, looking at each other with blank expressions.
Meanwhile, the other horses showed no concern for the excitement and stayed up on the high spot of the hay field, calm as ever.
At one point, Mia lay down to nap. As soon as she was done, Swings took a turn.
It was a humid day that had started out foggy. We had received over two-and-a-half inches of rain overnight from a very raucous thunderstorm. Other than the weird burst of running from Mix, the animals all seemed unfazed by the weather.
Mix had been a little gimpy for the last week, and Cyndie has been giving her something for pain relief. I wondered if the running was because she was feeling better. Later, I decided that wasn’t the case because it looked like the running might have left Mix feeling a little more achy than before.
Maybe Asher wanted Mix to stop running around because he realized she might hurt herself if she kept it up. Mix is the youngest in the herd, so it seems odd to have her appear the least comfortable.
We are in the process of slowly transitioning from feeding the horses grains to giving them a manufactured “Senior Feed.” I don’t think Light likes it. She has been dumping a lot of the feed out of her bucket in apparent frustration. Last night, both Cyndie and I noticed an audible increase in gut sounds in all four of the horses.
I think the new feed is giving them rumbly tummies.
Asher doesn’t seem to mind the change. He tries eating what they spill, regardless of what it is. When he refuses to obey the “Leave it!” command, he ends up back on a leash in the barn. We are disinclined toward using the e-collar to train for those violations.
We reserve that for more serious escapades.
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Wet Mowing
Wetness abounds this morning. After a first round of mowing yesterday, I parked the rider, put the batteries on their chargers, and went in for some lunch. A peek at the weather radar revealed I had limited time to make much more progress on mowing. While the tractor batteries charged, I grabbed the push mower and hustled down to the labyrinth.
I was maybe 4/5s of the way through when the droplets started sprinkling down. I finished anyway, hoping that the electric mower wouldn’t be hypersensitive to working in the rain. The shower was of short duration but long enough to make it too wet to do any more mowing.
Cyndie put a rain cover on Mia because the last time it rained, the old mare shivered significantly when she got wet. This time, it wasn’t as cool or windy, but Cyndie chose a little extra caution, just in case.
I didn’t think it was necessary, but soon after, another round of precipitation arrived and soaked things even more, and my thinking changed. It’s a good thing Cyndie’s intuition is so keen.
As we emerged from the woods this morning on our rounds, it was hard to tell whether the moisture droplets on the horizon were steam rising up from the heat of the rising sun or fog settling down toward the ground.
Water droplets were clinging to new spider webs, accenting the mastery of the intricacies of the structures.
Just a couple of steps in the yard had our boots soaking wet. Hopefully, the declining angle of September sunshine won’t delay the drying of grass blades too long. I have plenty of mowing left to do and dwindling days to accomplish it all. We need to leave somewhere around zero-dark-thirty Tuesday morning to meet Mike and Barb for a ride to the airport to catch a flight to Boston. Today and tomorrow are all I’ve got left to finish another week’s worth of groundskeeping tasks.
It seems like travel adventures with the Wilkuses in September are becoming an annual event. Last year at this time, we were all headed to Iceland together. Much earlier this morning, I was dreaming we were already underway and driving to a destination that took the car around a corner too fast while Cyndie and Mike were somehow joint-driving in classic reality-defying dream logic.
I felt myself clinching in preparation for a crash as the car rounded a corner on only two wheels, with the rest of the car hanging in mid air over a dropoff. Thank goodness the gravity in dream-world didn’t pull us down.
It’s not like I have any lingering subconscious aversion to traveling or anything…
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Usual Elevation
Home again at an elevation my lungs are more accustomed to, my mind lingers in the Black Hills of South Dakota and the priceless fellowship of precious friends sharing an affinity for bicycling.
Yesterday, I drove from sun-up Mountain Time to sun-down Central Time in a completely different muscle-stiffening endurance exercise than pedaling nonstop for hours on end. I crossed most of South Dakota and Minnesota to get back to Beldenville in Wisconsin, where Cyndie and Asher were awaiting my return.
It’s good to be home.
The wide open expanses of South Dakota offered a stark reminder of how small our little rectangle of fields and forest really is. The massive hay production underway for mile after mile was remarkable to see now that I know a little more about the process.
The horse ranches are just as impressive. We saw real cowboys wrangling cattle as we whizzed by at over 80 mph on I90.
As I made one of the last few turns around a cornfield toward our driveway, the clouds looked busy in the sky. When I pulled in, I came to Cyndie walking in my direction. She was looking for Asher, who was chasing after a cat that appeared on our property.
He came running to me soon after in a special “welcome home” that only dogs excel in performing to such a degree.
This morning was a treat to reconnect with our horses. I smirked to myself while cleaning up their manure after a week of dodging cow messes on the trail. I’m glad I don’t have to clean up after cattle herds.
I’ll be thinking a lot about the previous week while I am mowing the overgrown grass that grows so thick at our much lower elevation compared to where I huffed and puffed while pedaling that marvelous gravel Mickelson Trail.
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Different Realities
The world is a collection of independent realities simmering away at varying distances from one another. Currently, I am home alone for a few days with our animals. It feels so very far away from when I was in Chicago for the wedding last weekend. Cyndie is gone for a few days with a friend who will be having a surgical procedure done.
The countdown has reached three days until I depart for a week of biking in the Black Hills. That will definitely be a different reality. Shortly after I return from that, we travel to Boston to visit the world Barry and Carlos inhabit.
Yesterday, a friend shared a “Letters from an American” entry by history professor Heather Cox Richardson that featured Illinois Governor Pritzker’s response to tRump’s announcement that he was planning to send troops to Chicago. The sorry excuse for a President is definitely living in a unique and independent reality.
The Governor addressed the members of the Press who were in attendance, asking for their “courage to tell it like it is.” If only the media were able to present one true, unquestionable reality to the world about what exactly is going on behind the curtains in Washington.
I like to dream of a reality where Republicans at every level start rising up to admit that their king has no clothes.
At Wintervale, a current reality unfolding before our eyes involves the ripening of a robust-looking crop of fruit from the wild American Plum trees scattered across our property.
I don’t know if Cyndie’s reality for the near future involves producing some wild plum jam or not. It feels wasteful just to let all the fruit drop to the ground. But harvesting can be laborious unless we are both around to spread out a sheet to catch the plums as one of us shakes the trees. It’s possible we won’t both be at home until we get back from Boston in the middle of September.
This morning, I hope to meet another new This Old Horse volunteer who might be able to help feed horses when I leave for my bike trip. It’s pretty easy to train folks who are familiar with horses. Introduce them to the herd, then show them where the bags of grain are. They know the drill from there. The horse world is a more universal reality than an independent one.
Yesterday evening, I witnessed some beautiful “mutual grooming” going on between Light and Mia. It really warms the heart to see signs that members of the herd are taking care of one another.
I sure wish there was a more universal reality where all humans took good care of each other. I’d like to see a reality where anger and fear of others are replaced with a universal love and acceptance for all people.
Sing it, Jesse… “Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.”
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Return Assessment
Our drive home yesterday took us through one downpour that lasted about two minutes, after which I needed to switch the wipers on and off to intermittent for the rest of the way home. The total in the rain gauge upon arrival at Wintervale read five inches.
Our grass was desperate for a cut, but it was soaking wet. Cyndie’s brother, Steve, met us at our house to pick up their mom and transport her the rest of the way to her place in Bloomington. We were thrilled to see that he brought along his new Havapoo puppy, Vern, for us to meet.
I’m sad we didn’t take any pictures of Asher timidly inspecting the little pup. He showed no concern over the appearance of a strange creature in his territory and acted as if he recognized that this young dog deserved special respect. Before they left, Steve let Vern explore a bit in the grass, and the little guy appropriately used the opportunity to poop.
Cyndie said Asher investigated that spot after Steve had picked up the droppings and left it alone to walk over to the other side of the driveway to pee. I think he already senses that Vern is family.
Before I headed to the barn, I stopped by the piles of composting manure to see how things looked after a weekend away and multiple downpours of rain. It was easy to turn over the most active pile and reshape the others to bring everything up to my overly-tended standard.
The paddocks and the horses weren’t as much of a muddy mess as we feared possible. Paddock Lake was full to overflowing. The friends we employ to stay at our home and care for our animals while we are away do a fantastic job of maintaining order regardless of the challenges the weather throws their way.
This week, we have a time scheduled to meet a new volunteer willing to feed the horses for us when needed. That would be a real boon if she chooses to accept the responsibility.
Mix appeared to be telling us about how well the shade sail stood up to all the wild weather that bombarded the place over the weekend.
I am so happy that we don’t need to panic and pull it down every time there is a threat of high winds. I think that having it nestled in a low spot between the barn and the hill of the hay field protects it from suffering the brunt of harsh conditions.
The only issue reported as a result of the heavy rain was a couple of dripping spots from the ceiling of our bathroom. It reminds me that we should be shopping for a roofing company to quote replacing our 15-year-old shingles.
They aren’t completely shot, but they’ve suffered a bit of abuse over the years. We think the leak over the bathroom might be related to the plumbing vent or exhaust fan coming through the shingles there. It only appears during exceptionally heavy downpours and has never amounted to much.
Overall, our assessment of things upon returning home was rewarding. We are very grateful to have superb house sitters who take such great care of our home and animals.
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Body Condition
The horses were reasonably less rambunctious yesterday morning when the Nutritionist appointed by This Old Horse showed up to assess the herd. With the dwindling number of Swings’ teeth newly evident and signs of quidding (dropping partially chewed food from the mouth) in Swings and Mia, the Vet questioned whether we were giving them Senior feed.
We aren’t. Yet. This Old Horse scheduled a visit with the nutritionist to help with deciding whether or not to change their feed.
We were very happy to meet Michelle, the nutritionist, and to receive a refresher on how the equine body condition score is evaluated. Horses are scored 1-9, with 1 being poor and 9 being extremely fat. Most horses should be in the 5-6 range.
The main thing I noticed is how much room there is for subjective variation in the observations and measurements. Even something as simple as a change in position by the horse while measuring can alter the numbers.
If you can see their ribs, that is a lower score, but if you can’t see them, you should be able to feel them, or the score will be higher than ideal. Michelle used five places on the body to observe for visible mounds or bulges of fat and to feel for the squishiness of fat (as opposed to the firmness of muscle).
Our herd of rescued Thoroughbreds received very good body condition scores in the range of 5.
I was most impressed by Michelle’s technique for determining a weight for the horses. With a tape, she measured their girth, neck, height, and length and then entered the measurements into an app that calculates the result. Previously, the weights for these horses have been determined using a specially marked tape that bases the result on just the girth measurement.
In the end, it sounds like there are multiple reasons supporting a change to Senior feed, but discussions still need to be had based on financial factors and utilization of the full pallet of bagged grains we just received.
For now, there are no concerns about the horses getting enough calories to maintain their health. Can’t say the same thing for me. I’m pretty sure I most often tend to be somewhere beyond the level of “enough calories.”
Here is a photo Cyndie took of a bee visiting her dahlia blossom to balance the dry discussion of horse scores. A wonderful spectacle. It was too precious to leave unused. Enjoy!
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Leadership Dispute
After three days of less than adequate sleep, I found myself struggling to keep my eyes open after dinner last night. It was great to know my body was willing to make up for what I had denied it, but if I went to sleep too early, I’d wake up way too soon. Postponing sleep until closer to my usual time was worth it to get back on a more normal overall schedule again.
I arrived home yesterday to a report from Cyndie that Mix and Light had entered into a phase of heightened conflict, maybe in competition for the role of herd leader.
She described a change of increased aggression from Mix toward Light. For a while, we were seeing just the opposite between those two.
At the second feeding yesterday, Cyndie found Mix standing firmly in Light’s usual feed bucket spot, without protest from Light. That is the station we serve first, and Mix appeared to be claiming it.
Light just stood back and didn’t attempt to eat from any of the buckets.
I asked where Swings was this whole time. Cyndie said Swings has been hanging out with Mia, which she doesn’t usually do because Swings doesn’t like Mia. They were grazing grass together and showed little interest in coming up to eat grains.
I’m just fine with Mix wanting to be the herd leader. More valuable to me would be to have her demonstrate some visible leadership on a consistent basis. If Light gets relegated to the second or third rung on their level of hierarchy, I hope it doesn’t mess too much with her self-image.
Light was rescued from a kill pen on two different occasions and was spookily skinny when she came to This Old Horse. Even though she looks outwardly healthy now, I would guess she suffered enough psychological trauma to leave her mentally fragile ever since. That hasn’t been the way I have looked at her in the past, but since that last Vet visit, my perspective has been readjusted to a more realistic interpretation of the horses’ ages and the abuses they have suffered.
While discussing the horses last night with Cyndie, we jointly came to the recognition that Light’s clinginess to Swings could be a reflection of an insecurity, not a desire to lead. Although we don’t know exactly how she ended up in the kill pen, it occurred to us that she might never be sure that it won’t happen again somehow.
Whatever it is that the horses might be trying to work out among themselves, I hope they come to an arrangement that satisfies each of them soon. It’s much more soothing to have them be loving with each other than to have disputes.
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Ugly Air
I’ve lost track of how many days in a row we’ve been suffering under a “poor” and “low” quality air alert due to wildfire smoke. This morning, it shows up as “Moderate,” but the cumulative impact is lingering to the degree that we aren’t feeling much better. The lethargy I have been experiencing has helped me to avoid doing anything that requires heavy breathing, but we haven’t stayed indoors or worn masks while outside.
The horses and Asher appear to be responding to the nasty air in much the same way as we are. 
They are moving pretty slowly. I watched as Light stepped away from her bucket this morning and turned around toward Swings’ station. She then stood there for a minute or two, as if contemplating whether it was worth the effort to walk over there. When she eventually did, Light slid her nose into the bucket without asking, so Swings lifted her head up out of the way and chewed with her mouth open directly above Light’s head. Light ended up with a little crown of grains on top of her mane, where it covers her slowly healing head wound.
Horses are masters of taking things in stride.
Asher seemed to be looking for better air underground.
One complaint we don’t have during the bout of bad air quality is high humidity. It’s really sad that the dryer air that would otherwise feel so refreshing is being tainted by the smelly smoke particles.
When Asher was taking pauses between digging toward the center of the earth, he plopped down on the cool soil in hopes it would give him a little of that refreshing feeling that we are all longing for.
We are feeling a new level of appreciation for clean air and fresh breezes. If only they would arrive in a more gentle form than the hurricane-wind thunderstorms that seem to be joining wildfires as the new normal on the planet.
I’m afraid my lethargy has me feeling a little more gloomy about the state of things in the world this morning. Luckily, we have a lunch date planned today with friends, Rich and Jill. That will do oodles to bring me to my happy place of love and laughter again.
May you all find a way to spend some time in your happy place today, despite any of the gloom that may be crimping your styles!
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Erratic Storming
What a day of weather we experienced at Wintervale yesterday! Despite all the fence trimming I was hoping to accomplish, the repeated downpours we received prevented me from achieving that goal. The dew point temperature was in the low 70s°F when we woke up, and none of the storms throughout the day did much to change that. The air stayed thick, feeding that energy to the waves of storms that rolled over, one after another.
Before we stepped out the front door to walk Asher and tend to the horses, Cyndie commented with surprise that it looked like it had already rained. I thought that strange, as I walked through the house from our bedroom, because the deck was still dry.
Then Cyndie figured out she had left a sprinkler on all night. Oops. That was probably helping to keep the humidity up.
We were expecting a delivery of a pallet of food for the horses, so we opened the barn and hoped it would come soon. Thankfully, it didn’t arrive so soon that it got caught in the first energetic thunderstorm.
When we received notice that they were a half-hour out, I headed down to the barn to be ready to guide the delivery. I found the horses calmly sharing space under one side of the overhang.
Every time the other three don’t chase Mia out from under the roof line during bad weather is a victory in our eyes. I had to capture the moment with a photo. Of course, the whole other side was wide open for shelter, but for some reason beyond my understanding, the horses seem to have an aversion to taking advantage of such a simple solution.
The rain suddenly paused just long enough that the feed delivery was completed without getting soaked. The driver said that wasn’t the case on his prior stop, after which he followed the storm the whole way to our place, watching the brilliant lightning strikes on the back edge of the squall. While I was standing with the horses waiting for him to arrive, we witnessed one of those fascinating strikes split into two zagging streaks, followed so closely by the bang of thunder that both the horses and I flinched because it felt too close for comfort.
Each time we thought the worst had moved beyond us, and the sky was getting lighter, a blast of thunder announced the arrival of another dose of heavy weather.
Around dinner time, Cyndie checked the rain gauge and announced that 5 inches had been collected during the day. That seemed a bit of a shock to me, so I asked her to find out what was in the gauge down by the labyrinth next time she walked Asher. It struck her as odd that it only held 1-and-a-half inches.
A while later, she figured it out. The first rain gauge by the house was where she had left the sprinkler on all night. Yeah, oops. Sometimes, we humans can be our own worst enemies.
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Sheltered Lives
Every so often, I notice that I don’t have to fret over the likelihood of masked armed government gangs in unmarked cars showing up to roughly wrestle me to the ground and cuff my hands behind my back to haul me away to some unidentified detention facility.
Having chosen to consciously avoid all forms of news media since the last US Presidential election, my world has shrunk significantly. Morsels of world events come to my attention through friends and family or through my participation in an international online community, as well as occasional discussions in sub-Reddits that the app algorithm steers my way. Other than that, my days are filled with life on our 20-acre sanctuary or the lake place up in Hayward.
In some ways, it feels like I have stepped into a fog. I am aware there are things happening around me. I just can’t see them right now. My life experience has brought me an awareness of the threads of connection between people, as well as animals, in a transcendental realm that cuts through distances and fog.
When we are thinking about each other, we are connecting. Our love and hopes, and empathy reach each other just as easily as radio frequencies that are beamed to distant antennas. When you read tales of my adventures, you become participants along with me.
You feel the drama of an injured horse or a runaway dog, and you are aware when green growth is overtaking the land or weather events are ruling the day.
Upon reflection, we are not as sheltered as a first impression might hint.
Yesterday morning, while Cyndie and I were tending to the horses, we started rehashing the crazy incident of Light’s mysterious head wound. I was pleased at the veterinarian’s impression that there was nothing that looked unsafe for the horses in our facility. One thing they surmised as a remote possibility was that Light could have reared up in line with the metal fascia edge of the overhang.
As Cyndie and I talked about it, I glanced up at the metal edge from a different angle compared to the day of the incident and immediately noticed a distinct bowing in one spot. I can’t definitively say it wasn’t like that before, but it sure could be another piece of evidence about what happened.
I’m happy to report that all four horses seem to be doing well since the doctor visit. No noticeable lingering negative effects from the shots or the dental work, and Light appears to be recovering well from her wound.
Maddy, from This Old Horse, successfully got fly shields on the front legs of all the horses and brought a new fly mask for Mix. She looks good in Superman colors. I’m a little surprised the leg sleeves have stayed on for several days so far. When we’ve tried them in the past, in less than 24 hours, they have found ways to get out of them.
I like to think the horses are soaking up all the good vibes you readers have been sending them over their years with us.
Keep up the good work.
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Relative Something 