Posts Tagged ‘horses’
Equine Perception
This weekend, our friends, Mike & Barb, visited for dinner. Before sitting down to a sumptuous feast, we took a walk around the property that culminated in a visit with the horses. Mike brought some apples, so I opened a gate to serve up treats from within the paddock. Being unfamiliar with horses, Barb was more comfortable waiting just outside.
When it comes to treats, the horses are never bashful. Cyndie, Mike, and I moved among the herd to assure each of the 4 received a fair share. After they’d eaten all the apples,
Legacy walked right up to Barb at the gate.
.
I commented that he was probably fond of her color scheme.
.
Especially considering the color pallet that Mike was sporting.
.
.
.
Hunter seemed to pick right up on Mike’s playful spirit and soaked up his smell with big yawns and an outstretched tongue.
Cyndie pointed out that as herd leader, Legacy’s role is to make sure everyone is safe, connected, and part of the group. He chose to connect with Barb as a way to include her and acknowledge her reticence and sense of vulnerability over being among such large, and sometimes unpredictable animals.
As we discussed this, I was struck by the memory that I was in that very same place of unfamiliarity with horses when we bought this place. I would never think of stepping inside a fence with such large animals.
After one weekend of lessons on horse communication, and learning to understand my energies of mind, heart, and gut, I was significantly transformed. Before the end of the very first day of that weekend, I had moved from being completely naive about anything to do with horses, to finding myself successfully interacting with a horse I had no knowledge of, alone with him within the limited confines of a round pen.
It was monumental for me. It laid the foundation for everything I’ve learned since, now living as a co-owner of four beautiful Arabian horses.
I feel like I’ve come farther than should be possible in such a short time. I also feel like I still know so little. Every day there is more to grasp about the remarkable dynamics of equine perception.
More often than not, I get the sense that they know more about me than I do.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Tidying Up
With temperatures climbing into the 40s yesterday, Cyndie and I saw an opportunity to do a little tidying up around the property. After the most recent bouts of quasi-winter rain-sleet-snow precipitation, an annoying icy, glazed mass of packed snow had become the surface of our driveway.
I took out an ice scraper and pushed away at the soft, wet edges of the ice pack in front of the house. The portion that will come up without resistance is visibly obvious. I focused on that, picking the low-hanging fruit. After working the edges and then pushing the crumble of snow and ice to the side with my shovel, I looked back to see there was already a whole new measure of visibly obvious portions that begged attention.
How could I not keep going? After three times around, I had the whole upper platform of our driveway clean to the pavement. The melt was happening at an amazing rate.
Cyndie was down with the horses, planning to give each of them some individual attention and grooming. That was my next stop, thinking I could hang out with them and clean up manure while she brushed them out. Even though there was a cloud cover painting the day with a hue of gray, the air was absolutely calm, allowing the warm temperature to feel perfectly comfortable without getting hot.
Legacy’s tail has always grown long, but Cyndie noticed it had reached a point where he was stepping on it, so she decided to give it a trim.
After scooping fresh manure from under the overhang, I fanned out a little further around the paddock and picked up some of the newly exposed piles emerging from the melting snow. Like the last couple of winters, we have been dumping much of the season’s worth of manure right inside the paddock.
Since much of the manure is frozen by the time we get around to scooping it up, there isn’t much in the way of composting that goes on in the pile, so it just keeps getting bigger and bigger with every passing day.
Continuing with the theme of tidying up, I decided to try giving the giant mass a little more shape by cleaning up around the edges. I was surprised to discover over the last few winter seasons that despite the dark color of the pile, if it starts out frozen, if left alone, the center can stay frozen well into May or June.
We placed this pile at a spot that we would like to fill in effort to reduce the amount of slope, but it becomes a long slow process to move from an ugly pile of manure to an unnoticeable natural ground cover nicely filling a low spot.
All part of the ongoing process of running a neat and tidy ranch operation, regardless what the weather presents.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Sunrise Greeting
Wednesday morning, as Cyndie was making her way in the sub-zero cold with Delilah for the first walk of the day, she captured this wonderful view of Dezirea, alone in the back pasture as the sun climbed above the eastern horizon.
Thank you for sharing, Cyndie!
Last night, when I stepped out with the dog for her last walk before bed, and to roll the garbage bin down to the road, we were met by the magical glow of winter moonlight. It is such a striking contrast from the inky blackness we experience here on a moonless summer night.
Our end to the day was a nice bookend to the start that Cyndie captured at dawn.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Teamwork Challenged
Yesterday, I experienced a classic example of a frequent challenge Cyndie and I have been navigating to varying degrees over the 35+ years of our life together as husband and wife. Our minds sometimes tend to operate out of sync from one another, despite our best intentions.
It was a beautiful winter day outside, with a lot of blue sky and sunshine, a comfortable temperature, and minimal breezes. We headed out to give Delilah some exercise by letting her run loose in the pastures while throwing discs for her to chase. We walked right past the horses, cutting through their paddock to get out into the hay-field.
On our way back in, Cyndie said she wanted to pay a little visit to the horses. While milling around with them, Cyndie decided to scoop some of the fresh manure under foot. That inspired me to grab a pitch fork and clean the edges of the large pile we have been creating during the snow season.
When she was done cleaning up, Cyndie said she would take Delilah out for one last session of running loose in the back pasture. In a very short time, I was commenting on their quick return.
“Delilah’s tired and I’m getting cold, so we are going to head up.” she reported.
I told her I would finish what I was doing and then follow them shortly. Earlier, Cyndie had asked me what shovel I had used in the past to make a winter path through the labyrinth. I told her the trick is to just walk the route wearing snowshoes, implying we could do that later in the day, after lunch.
As I walked up to the barn to put away my pitch fork, Cayenne turned and approached me for some loving. I soaked up her attention and lingered for what seemed like a long time to me, staying engaged as long as she maintained interest. It’s funny how much hot breath, wet nose, and sloppy tongue seems perfectly acceptable when a horse is choosing to nuzzle and mingle. I searched for a sweet-spot of scratching for her, moving between her ears, neck and chest.
Eventually, what ended our little love fest was Legacy, coming over from the other side of the overhang. I don’t know what reason he had to finally interrupt, but I tried spending a little time with him to see if he was just hoping for similar attention. Since he’s not as accommodating to hands-on affection, it comes across more as though he just doesn’t want her to be getting all the fun.
I finally made my way up to the house, ready for a break and some lunch. Stepping inside, I found no one there. Cyndie must have gone down to the labyrinth already, I thought to myself. Looking out back, sure enough, I spotted Delilah moving around down there. I rallied my energy and decided to join her.
First, I looked in the garage for the snowshoes, but couldn’t find them anywhere. Did we leave the second pair at the lake? Oh well, I’ll grab the plastic shovel, just in case I can find a way to use that to help. The shovel wasn’t where I keep it, either. Frustrated that I couldn’t execute my plan, I walked down empty-handed.
I arrived just in time. Cyndie said she needed my help with figuring out where the turns should be.
Imagine this, it turned out she had brought down the second pair of snowshoes and the plastic shovel, in case I wandered past on my way up to the house.
Now, why didn’t I think of that?
Welcome to my world.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I’m Thinking
I’m thinking of changing my writing style. Making it great again. Really great. You already know —and people tell me this— that I write about what I know. I know a lot. I’m smart. Very smart. I’m the best friend blogging has ever had. They love me. I tell all the stories about our dog Delilah; the best dog. Best breed. Very, very smart.
We have horses —Arabian horses— that I write about when I blog. Incredible horses. Our horses love me. When I go down to clean their manure —they create a lot of manure; 50 pounds per day from each horse, every day. You could power a small factory on the heat their composting manure creates every day. Daily— I can walk right between each of the horses, right between, and they know why I’m there. They will come right up to me, Hunter does this, they walk over to piles I am raking, while I’m still raking the piles, and deposit a fresh contribution for me to collect.
Their manure is so smart, it composts itself. I don’t do anything. Just make a pile. It cooks on its own. Hundreds of degrees. 160° right in the middle of the pile.
Okay, enough of that dung. Except maybe the narcissistic part where I bragged superlatively. That part was pretty great. Well, sort of great, anyway. I want to give some credit to the article I spotted on Vox while researching linguistic stylings, which inspired my little adventure in changing my writing style for a few paragraphs.
Back to my woe-be-gone tales of our paradise called Wintervale… where all the horses are strong, the dog is good-looking, and the cat is probably above average. We are wallowing in the purgatory of “between-snow.” That’s a phrase I use to categorize the amount of snow which is messy and should be cleared, but isn’t enough to deserve shoveling or plowing. It’s a common winter hassle, especially during periods between real snowstorms that dump so much snow at one time you have no choice but to plow if you want to get in and out of the driveway.
The best way to solve the conundrum is to simply plow as soon as it falls, even if it is barely enough to warrant the use of the machine. My problem in this case is a limited opportunity (or to be more precise, limited energy), after getting home from the day-job. An inch or two isn’t worth the push to get off my butt and plow after work, whereas three or more inches would inspire me to rise to the occasion.
Since I’m home today, I will do some plowing. It will give me an opportunity to test out that tire repair I did before leaving for Florida, and allow me to clean up the paths I want to have open for the tree trimmers, whom I hope will be here in a week or two.
That’s what I’m thinking, anyway.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Look Up
Some very interesting images can be found by looking straight up. A few days ago, I posted a shot looking up a concrete utility pole in Florida. Here is another version of the same pole, after walking around to the other side.
They probably deserve to be shown as a pair. I like the contrast of the opposing direction of the light source between the two.
Meanwhile, I’m back at the day-job, digging out from a backlog of work that piled up while I was away. I was so exhausted when I walked in the door after work yesterday, I laid down for a minute. Pequenita immediately took advantage of my presence and pummeled me with kneading and head-butting in a quest for attention.
I think she missed me.
In a blink, I was no longer blinking. My eye lids stayed down and my brain checked out. It just so happened, my labor wasn’t immediately needed outside. For the first time since Cyndie’s knee surgery on the last day of November, she handled the outdoor ranch duties!
I think the chance to do some extended walking while we were in Florida, away from the icy, snowy terrain, boosted her confidence. Monday night she walked Delilah while I cleaned up manure and filled hay boxes. Yesterday, she did morning and evening chores, drove to a physical therapy appointment, did exercises there, and then went grocery shopping.
Talk about getting back into action. Of course, after dinner it was quickly time to get horizontal for the rest of the night and ice the knee. Fair enough.
It feels like I have come out of the tunnel. Things are definitely looking up.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Welcomed Home
Despite some fleeting moments of inclement weather early in the morning (after a really nice little thunderstorm in the middle of the night) our flight home was on-time and without incident. That part about no incidents is a little surprising because of the number of babies and infants on board.
I spotted the youngster sitting closest to us was under headphones and being mesmerized by programs on a tablet for much of the 3-hour flight. What a great invention when it comes to really, really wanting a child to be occupied for an extended time. Too bad that advantage gets offset by the greater number of times when parents would like their kids to be present and engaged with others in a moment when they instead choose the oblivion of a tablet.
When we landed in Minneapolis, instead of having George and Anneliese pick us up, we took a taxi to Cyndie’s parent’s house in Edina to borrow her mom’s car while mine is in the body shop for repairs. That had us on the road for home at about the same time I would normally be driving home from work on a Monday.
That’s one way to quickly put an accent on the fact we are not on vacation any longer.
We were met at the door by a very friendly dog who seemed very happy to see us again. Before unpacking a thing, we changed into work clothes and headed out to walk Delilah and tend to the horses. Cyndie decided to put her recent gains in mobility to the test and grabbed ski poles to support her first foray into the snow and uneven ground of our trails. She had done some good walking on multiple surfaces and outdoors while we were in Florida.
We made our way to the horses and got right back in the swing of the usual routine.
Anneliese made a wonderful dinner, followed by a card game at the table, making us feel completely and warmly welcomed back to our home.
Just to get myself fully back into things at Wintervale, I did a little repair work on a problem spot on the electric fence. It was arcing something fierce at the insulator that Legacy had pulled off the t-post. Turns out he cracked it. It was a quick fix of swapping out the bad one with a replacement stolen off a post that wasn’t currently being used.
With that task accomplished, I felt like things were well in order after 5-days away.
Now we have new snow expected tonight and tomorrow, which will serve as a final punctuation mark to our welcome home.
No doubt about it, we are no longer in Florida.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Prob’ly Shoulda
What a mess of weather we endured Monday night. I was aware of the forecast for potential freezing rain, so I left work a little early, just in case. Inside of a mile from home, I came upon the first hint of speckles on the windshield. By the time I was feeding the horses, the drizzle was steady enough that I could tell we were in for a messy night.
It was at that point that I probably should have put the horses in the barn. Instead, I banked on a hope they would stay under the shelter of the overhang to keep dry. To hedge my bet, I set out some extra hay in addition to what was in the two boxes. The horses seemed very pleased, and appeared content to stay put.
It didn’t last. I had my suspicions, and made a point to check on them later, when I took Delilah out for her evening walk. We stepped out the door and found the worst case scenario of ice buildup. I had no footing whatsoever on any solid surface that wasn’t snowy. The snow, although getting crunchy, offered some traction.
When we arrived to the barn, the area under the overhang was empty. Through the darkness, and the continuing drizzle, I was barely able to perceive the shapes of the horses out in the hay-field. At that point, with the slopes around the barn dangerously slippery with a serious coating of ice, the herd was safer in the better footing of the snow in the field. They would have to endure the wetness for the night.
Luckily, the warmth that brought rain instead of snow worked in our favor. It wasn’t going to be a dangerously cold night for them. Still, I felt bad that I could have prevented their predicament if I’d just have moved them in when I had the chance.
I’m happy to say that by the time I got home from work at the end of the day yesterday, they looked no worse for the wear. Like usual, Legacy had developed his curls that look like he had just gotten out of the shower, but the others, especially Hunter, looked almost groomed. They were dry and perfectly comfortable.
I took Hunters smooth coat as a testament to the art of rolling on the ground. He tends to be the first, and most frequent, to get on the ground and roll around.
Even though there is barely enough room in the stalls in the barn, if they come in wet, Hunter will lay down and roll around, banging his hooves on the walls in a startling clamor.
His classy looking sheen doesn’t just happen. He makes it happen.
I probably should put more trust in the horses’ ability to manage themselves in the face of inclement weather. They seem to know what they are doing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Not Electrified
With horses, if you happen to leave the power off the electric fence, they will eventually mess with it. In our case that trait is usually demonstrated by Legacy. If he gets bored, something is going to get chewed. If the fence isn’t electrified, it becomes a prime target.
Over the weekend I noticed one of our web fence lines was loose. Leaving the plowed pathway, I climbed through un-energized fence wires to get to the source of the problem. Somebody had busted the plastic mount holding the web anchor. 
Why do we turn off the electric fence? Sometimes it is simply because company is visiting and we don’t want anyone to accidentally get jolted. Other times, it is due to excessive arcing occurring for a variety of reasons where circuit isolation has been compromised. Most recently, it was because of an overall load pulling the voltage down to a level where it wasn’t really effective.
I’ve been hoping to get through the winter before really diving into the problem spots to fix whatever needs fixing.
Legacy is letting me know I probably shouldn’t wait that long.
When I stopped by to replace the broken anchor yesterday afternoon, the horses were on the far side of the paddock, loitering around the watering hole. Despite the distance, Legacy decided he wanted in on whatever I was up to and came over to help.
He seemed to take great interest in what I was doing. Probably because he could see I was messing with something that he had just “fixed.” He didn’t want the new anchor re-attaching this fence he’d just gotten rid of.
When I finished installing the replacement, I wanted to turn it on to see what the voltage was —as well as give Legacy a little surprise, should he continue to mess with it— but I needed to clean up under the overhang and feed the crew first.
When I got up to the house after feeding the horses, I realized I’d forgotten to test the electricity on the fences.
I sure hope the new bracket is still intact by the time I get back down there to power the fence for a test later today.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Slow Feeding
After serving up pans of feed to our four horses, I make sure their slow feeder hay boxes are topped off and ready for the long and cold winter night. They emphatically chomp down the small dose of nutrition provided in the pellets and then move directly to the hay to fuel their internal furnaces against the sub-zero chill.
Last night the evening was so serene I paused with them and recorded the scene.
The slow feeders are a great success for us. Especially when we fill them with hay the horses like.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 