Posts Tagged ‘Wintervale Ranch’
Horse Mischief
Lest you think my incessant blathering about the muddy mess we are suffering is excessive, I offer a couple of images as evidence of the saturation in which we are wallowing. After a few days without additional rain, and even some sunshine yesterday, we are enjoying some long-awaited progress in drying of the intermediate areas, but the wettest sections continue to hold standing water.
Those areas remain a magnet for Delilah, who rushes to sink her feet into the muckiest of muck when we arrive to feed the horses each morning, rendering her abolished from the house until we can get her washed. I think she measures the quality of her days by how many baths she gets in the kiddie pool stationed by our front door.
I lied in my post yesterday when I wrote that I wouldn’t get any mowing done since I would be biking and barbecuing. We had a fantastic ride in beautiful weather, and then dove into eating everything in reach as fast as it arrived to the table. It was a wonderful time that I enjoyed thoroughly, and I arrived home in time to help Cyndie get the horses fed and then do some mowing.
My main objective was to cut the back yard, but after feeding the horses, I noticed the jungle of growth on the uphill side of the big paddock behind the barn. It was twice as bad as the yard, so I decided to give that first attention before moving on.
The horses took great interest in my actions. Instead of moving away from the loud noise of high RPM tractor engine and mower, they came right up to the fence to witness the horror. I got the impression they were galled at the audacity of my cutting down the green growth right before their eyes. I guess I could have taken a moment to convey the reason we have been unable to give them access to this area outside their fence, but something tells me they wouldn’t have bought it. The growth was fresh, green, tall, and surely rich with sugars that would give them the rush they seek.
My drain hose from the trough that sits beneath the downspout on the barn was strung across that area I was mowing, and I flipped it toward the fence, out of the way after I had made the first pass. This morning, when I showed up to feed the horses, I immediately spotted that garden hose pulled way into the paddock!
Had I tossed it too close to their fence yesterday? No. When I started pulling it back out of there, I quickly discovered that it had been pulled in from the other end; the end that had been attached to the trough. How did they get a hold of that!? Lo and behold, the trough itself had been dislodged from its position. Someone had been up to some mischief overnight.
Message received. I think they were clearly letting me know how they felt about my decision to mow that area right before their eyes, at a time when we are firmly limiting their minutes of grazing on the new spring fast-growing grass.
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Dirty Pants
If I venture outside on our property, especially if I expect to traverse the horse paddocks, I will trash my pants with mud. When we walk in the door, we remove our muddy boots, but my pant legs will sometimes be just as bad as the boots. I have been known to remove my pants at the door, too.
It doesn’t make sense to me to put these in the wash every day, as the next pair I put on will get just as dirty in a single outing, so I have taken to wearing the same pair for days, or even weeks. They pretty much stand up by themselves after a day or two.
When I decide to finally wash them, I will lay the pants on the driveway and spray the mud off with a hose, before running them through our washing machine. They get that bad.
It feels a little weird to be saving my dirty pants at the end of each night. It’s even weirder to be climbing back into them the following day. I have to be delicate about sliding them up when putting my boots on, to minimize how much debris breaks loose and falls on the floor, or into my boot. When I come in for lunch, I can’t sit on the couch or nice chair, and try to step carefully around the house.
Our cat, Pequenita, isn’t bothered by the mud at all, and climbs on my leg regardless how grimy they are. As an indoor cat, it’s her chance to be close to the earth.
I suppose I could step into the kiddie pool we have out the front door for washing Delilah before she comes in the house. It seems only fair. Of course, the mud I get covered with is incidental to the tasks I get involved in, whereas Delilah’s mud is a result of her deliberately getting herself into the worst areas and marching back and forth or digging. She needs daily washing —sometimes multiple washings in a single day.
My system of keeping dirty pants gives me many more wearings between eventual necessary washes.
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Animal Images
We can look at these guys each day, but you have to wait for me to post pictures. Here are some shots taken in the last two days…
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Yesterday, when we put the horses out to graze on grass, Cyndie and Delilah and I had a little picnic lunch beside them. It was rather idyllic. Well, truth is, every day that we get to enjoy the views of these fine animals could be described as idyllic.
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Gaining Experience
It is not surprising that the horses experience a little anxiety about being surrounded by fields of fresh green grass they can’t access.
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We have to control the horses’ amount of time grazing on lush springtime grass to avoid the condition called founder, or laminitis.
For the second day in a row, yesterday we opened the gate to a small section of grass and let them freely graze for about 30 minutes. Cyndie had come out again to watch them, and I consulted with her about options for coaxing them off the grass and back into the paddock. I was hoping to avoid the panic response they demonstrated on Monday.
She suggested I try using a lead rope around Legacy’s neck to guide him, with the hope the rest would follow. Her idea was brilliant, because it worked like a charm. I figured it would be a challenge to even get the lead around his neck, so I brought a treat to encourage his cooperation. I approached respectfully, and he returned the courtesy by pausing his grazing and lifting his head. I rewarded him with a treat and he let me drape the rope around his neck. We calmly walked back toward the gate to the paddock, and without hesitation, the three chestnuts followed. Two of them came with us into the paddock, but Hunter stopped to get a few last bites of grass. I walked back around him and guided him the rest of the way through the gate.
They made me look like a pro, or at least, like someone who knew what he was doing. Obviously, I do know a little bit, it’s just that I have no previous practical experience to work from. I told Cyndie that my success with the horses is entirely based on confidence I gained from the one weekend of training I received at the Epona seminar where Cyndie, Dunia, and the other trainers did their “student teaching” at the completion of their apprenticeships.
It comes easy to me because the methods they taught for interacting with the horses make total sense to me and resonate with my intuition. The positive feedback of the horses’ responses serves to verify my perceptions.
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Grazing Gratefully
We seem to have turned a corner and there are finally areas starting to show signs of drying out. It is a very uneven process, and the spots that are still wet remain ridiculously saturated and a muddy mess.
We let the herd graze together on fresh grass yesterday! I pounded down the posts for our temporary fence to the desired depth, and when the ground around them dries out, it will be like they were cast in cement. 
With the posts ready, I was able to string up ribbon fence lines that will be electrified, but not before I first had to fix a connection on the existing fence.
I found a splice that wasn’t sufficiently crimped. While I was troubleshooting the problem, I had Legacy’s full support. I’m pretty sure he sensed I was on a project that would lead to him getting access to better grazing. He stood front and center on the spot where I focused my attention.
I wish I could have talked him into using his powerful bite to accomplish something positive for once, and get him to clamp down on that splice. My hand tools were all sub-par for the job. I achieved enough of a crimp to give me electrical contact for the time being, which allowed me to prove the concept and proceed.
Cyndie made a heroic journey on crutches, navigating the uneven and uncertain terrain, to provide moral support, showing up in time to witness the completion and testing phase. All that was left after that was to convince the horses that the gate was open.
It was late enough in the day that we needed to put out their afternoon pans of feed, and that had their undivided attention. It also seemed to temporarily satiate their appetite, so they lolled around in a just-fed stupor, paying little notice to the fact I had opened a gate to the grass.
Hunter was the first one to show some interest in why I was walking around in their paddock. I was able to entice him to come toward me, but only up to the area where the mud got thick. They will cross mud, but they need a big enough incentive to do so, and he hadn’t yet figured out why I was urging him to come across. Before long, Legacy wandered over to see what was going on.
I pulled out the trick that I learned from Dunia at the Epona seminar, walking an arc in front of Legacy until he took a step, and then I turned and lured him along by my energy. We pulled Hunter and Cayenne right behind him. I needed to go to the hay feeder in the far paddock to convince Dezirea to join the fun.
While they grazed, I wandered back to the paddocks to restock the hay feeders. When I returned, Cyndie had gone back to the house, so I phoned her to confirm how short a time they should be limited to on this rich spring grass.
“Now would be good.”
“How do you suggest I do that?” I asked.
I tried calmly coaxing them to head back into the paddock, but these Arabians move from calm to panic in a blink, and you’d think I had slapped them on the butt and fired a shot from a pistol.
Of course, they were all juiced up on fresh grass. They carried that sprint into the paddock far longer than was necessary, from my perspective, but who can blame them? They had finally gotten what they wanted for so long, and that quick, had it taken back again.
I will not be surprised if I find them lined up and waiting at that gate when I show up to put out their feed this morning.
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Special First
Yesterday was one of those days when I found myself saying, “I did not picture myself sitting here when I woke up this morning!” My day felt so full that I can’t believe I was able to fit it all in. We entertained new friends visiting for the first time, discovered The Roost, (check it out!) where we ate pizza cooked in a wood-fired oven, and then I went for my first bike ride of the year. But the highlight for me was time I spent with the horses in the morning before all the rest of that started. Let me tell you about it. It’s what I do.
After amazing myself with completing both a blog post and getting the horses fed, I was trying to clean up manure in the paddocks. Legacy had other priorities. He really wanted a chance to get out and have a taste of that sweet green grass growing up everywhere surrounding his fence line. Up to now, I had yet to even place a halter on one of our horses, but with Cyndie laid up, my time had come.
Legacy was so persuasive, with his calm and subtle closing of any distance I attempted to create between my nose and his. Finally, he stepped forward to stand on the pile I was working to create, and I realized that the task I was on would be impossible to complete.
While pondering whether I would be able to pull off what I was now considering, I stepped inside the barn and picked up a halter. After several tries to decipher which end was up, it fell into place and became exceedingly obvious. I looked up and found Legacy had been watching my progress and was positioned as close to me as he could possibly get, at the door. How could I deny him?
I climbed the fence to enter the paddock and showed him the halter, even though it was clear that wasn’t necessary. He was all in. He helped me get it on him and off we went, to my next and probably biggest challenge. I needed to manage his position, the opening of the gate, and the continued containment of the other horses, all at the same time. I’ve seen Cyndie do it, so I just followed that image in my mind. It helps that the horses all know the drill, as well. They behaved perfectly, and suddenly I had Legacy out on some grass, and he was almost as happy with that as I was for successfully getting him there.
In succeeding turns, I got each horse out on their own for some time grazing fresh grass, and then a short walk. While I was out with the last horse, Cyndie arrived on her crutches, clinging to a bag of carrot treats. She was able to see me survive Cayenne having a little panic attack, spinning around on me, toward the end of her walk on a trail.
This time with the horses was a significant milestone for me, a very special first time of managing that level of care. I am very lucky and extremely grateful to have this wonderful herd serve as my teachers in this adventure we are on here. Something tells me they feel the same way about having Cyndie and me.
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Nature’s Course
If you live on a river, or have ever paid attention to flood stages, you are probably aware of the time it can take for a river to crest. That phenomena is playing out in our paddocks now, as the first day of sunshine after the dreadful week of soaking rains produced wetness and mud that is the worst we have seen. There will be a time-lag before we get the drying for which we so dearly yearn.
The horses are beginning to show some impatience with not only the enduring mud, but probably more so, the wait to get on the fresh green grass they can see all around their corral. I began work on installing temporary fencing to allow them limited access to some grazing just outside their paddock, and was able to push the posts in most of the way by hand because the ground is so saturated. Even if I get the fence up, we can’t put them out there until it firms up enough to support their weight without them churning it into a mud bath like the sacrifice area of their paddocks.
After the rain finally stopped, and the temperature rose out of the 40s, I took the blankets off the horses. They really wanted to be brushed after that, even though a couple of them played hard to get and made us wait out a few dance moves of avoidance before settling down so we could go to work. Yesterday, I got a hint that we didn’t give them as much brushing as they wanted. Cayenne and Hunter took it upon themselves to cooperatively work on removing each other’s shedding coats.
When I first spotted them, I was amazed at the vigor with which each horse worked. It was so obviously a joint operation of sheer pleasure that I found myself mesmerized and wondering if I should maybe be embarrassed about peeping at their moment of shared passion. Hunter’s mouth was open, teeth bared, and he was grinding back and forth on Cayenne’s flank, bringing up vast tufts of hair that easily rivaled what our brushing produces. She was working with equal intensity on his back.
It was as vivid a presentation of “you scratch mine, I’ll scratch yours” as I have ever seen. It was such a classic scene that I figured I should take a picture, but I hesitated, figuring it would be over by the time I pulled out my phone. After staring at them with increasing fascination for a couple of minutes, it occurred to me that I could have long ago had my phone out for pictures. I snapped a few, but of course, none of them really do the scene adequate justice.
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Two Incidents
With Cyndie laid up in recovery for a while, I have sole responsibility for tending to the horses. After only one day, I already have two incidents to report. The common denominator for both situations happens to be our lovely dog, Delilah. If I didn’t keep letting her tag along when I head down to feed the horses, things would probably have come off without a hitch, but she needs to get out just as bad as I need to go feed the horses.
Most of the time, Delilah is getting along well with the horses. It’s similar to the way she is with our cat, Pequenita, in that there are still too many moments out of the blue when she works herself into a tizzy and begins barking and baring her teeth at them. Our cat is small enough that it appears that Delilah just wants to play when she gets all riled up and pouncy. The significant size of the horses appears to be more intimidating, and Delilah comes across as trying to establish some control and to prove her skills at herding. She is a shepherd, after all.
After I got Cyndie home from the procedure on her hip, I discovered that the straps that run under the belly of Hunter’s blanket weren’t connected properly, and it was flipped up over his back. He seemed calm enough to allow me to monkey with it, so I tried to quickly unhook and then re-hook the two straps. Off they both came, and then the first one clicked right into place, at which point Delilah went nuts and did some ferocious barking at Hunter. The horse lurched back and I lost hold of him and that second strap, which was now dangling precariously under his belly as he maneuvered in response to the canine troublemaker.
Our muddy troublemaker
I definitely have not succeeded in teaching Delilah what “No!” means. Apparently, she thinks it means she should keep doing whatever it is that she was doing when I suddenly burst forth with the word, repeating it in ever-increasing intensity.
Eventually, I fooled Delilah into approaching me close enough to allow me to grab her collar, after which she was dragged unceremoniously into the barn and tied up. It took a little patience, but after a short wait, Hunter allowed me back in position to reach under him and pull the strap through to hook it up properly.
Yesterday, I had finished filling the hay feeders at their dinner time, when I noticed that Hunter seemed to be following me wherever I went in the paddock. I allowed myself to linger longer than I really wanted to, finally choosing to just stand in his space when he repeatedly closed any gap that I created by my movements.
When I spotted Delilah beginning to bare her teeth and revving up to bark at him, I decided to intervene swiftly to alter her focus. I tried kneeling down and holding her next to me, soothing her anxiety as Hunter nosed around, taking in big whiffs of her scent. I was hoping to nurture a calm, close-contact interaction between them in hopes it might set a precedent for them developing a more congenial companionship.
Without warning, Hunter suddenly lunged forward and tried to bite Delilah as I held her. I felt awful that I had put Delilah in that dangerous proximity, despite her anxiety of the risk. In fairness to Hunter, he was only returning the treatment he has been receiving from her for far too long. Delilah wrenched out of my grip quickly enough to dodge any real harm, and we both decided it was time to hustle out of the paddock and out of Hunter’s reach.
Hunter went back to grazing.
I have added a couple of notches to my belt of experience managing our dog while in close proximity with our horses. I’m looking forward to my coach soon being able to use her crutches to come down and supervise my lessons, hopefully before any more risky incidents play out.
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Choosing Hardship
Things are not going very easy for us on the ranch right now, but despite the difficulties we face, we are still basking in the richness and fullness of this life we have chosen. The primary frustration is the current weather pattern we have been under for a week. It has been chilly and rainy every day. Too rainy, for many of them. The wind has calmed a bit in the last couple of days, so we do have the benefit of that misery being removed from the rest of the miserable onslaught we have had to endure.
In direct correlation to the troublesome weather is our plight in caring for the horses in the manner we aspire to maintain. We just can’t alleviate their predicament of too much mud. We anticipated a certain amount of hassle, but this week of rain is just over the top. Not just the rain, but the cold, cold temperatures, too. We have tried to provide some relief, by allowing them time in the barn, but that is a temporary solution for a problem that has far exceeded being of temporary duration.
The amount of work required to manage our property is significant, but adding the universal difficulty of non-stop wetness compounds the burden dramatically. Every building is leaking, including my wood shed! The grounds are a mess. That makes the house a mess, and clothes a mess. It’s hard!
But it’s good. It’s a good hard. There are easier life styles a person can choose. Mankind spends a fair amount of energy devising ways to make life easier. I make jokes about the situation where life gets so easy a person has to join a fitness club and pay money to engage in sessions of doing hard work. People will workout in a gym, running in place or moving weighted levers up and down to get sweaty, develop strength and muscle tone. But, dig in the dirt? Carry heavy objects long distances? Walk the hills of 20 acres? Why would someone choose to do that?
Maybe we choose to live like this precisely because it is hard. A life of hard work offers special rewards that more than justify the effort. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself whenever our hard life starts getting really hard. Of course, I’ve got the benefit of being in proximity of Cyndie’s positive outlook, which she graciously shares, encouraging me to check my focus and recognize our many blessings.
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Sticky Sweet
Our three chestnuts had their heads out when I visited the barn on Thursday. Legacy was turned around with his butt to the door. We are so grateful to have this barn with stalls. It is obvious to us that they are, too. We have never once had any of them make a fuss over being confined inside.
Yesterday, everyone was back outside in the sunshine, after the fog burned off. Cyndie surprised me with a last-minute suggestion that we go out for breakfast before she went to work. It was the first day of a local syrup farm’s open house event, and they were serving pancakes with fresh blueberries!
They also provide free maple-syrup sundaes, so I had ice cream for dessert first thing in the morning, too. It was pure sticky, sweet goodness.
We learned last year that you can bring your own containers and purchase syrup at a discount. We bought a gallon in two Ball jars, brought from home. It’s that good, and it’s easy to keep. Since it wasn’t sealed in these containers, we’ll refrigerate it.
We are still “new” folks here, meaning we weren’t born and raised in the area, and that shows when you attend an event like this where everyone else knows each other well. Since it was a weekday, the primary crowd we encountered were retirees and their parents. I’m sure we appeared out of place, but we were doted on just the same.
After pancakes, Cyndie dashed off to work, leaving me to chat about the syrup season (it was average), and the art and science of knowing when to start tapping trees. If you try too early, while time passes until the sap runs, the tree will have been busy healing the spot where the tap was inserted. If you start too late, you miss some of the sweetest, best sap for syrup.
I killed a little time in the morning, working indoors while waiting for things to dry out as much as possible, then headed out to see if I could mow more of the fields. It was borderline, as some spots still have standing water.
I forged ahead regardless and ended up cutting what I could, working around the wettest spots. Based on the forecast, it could be my last chance to mow for quite a while…
Just as predicted, the rain has brought out the greenest of greens in the lawn and portion of the back grazing field where I did the first cutting last week. It makes it look like the areas cut yesterday don’t match, but I’m confident they will come around soon enough. I was concerned that these remaining areas all had thicker grass already, and that is causing more piles of cuttings that get left behind. This should become less obvious before long, though.
I’m all about the aesthetic impression aligning with my goal of better grass. I believe this will improve the forage in our fields, but at the very least, I would like it to look like improved forage. If nothing more, I would enjoy having that justification for spending all this time out there trying to mow farm acres with a lawn tractor.
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Relative Something 