more rain, more editing, and playing catch-up

We've had another string of rainy days, and a predicted thunderstorm with high winds for tomorrow evening, so life on November Hill has been a little quieter as we try to keep up with barn chores, and keep the house from becoming a mud pit - our boots/shoes are easy to take off at the door, but 8 Corgi paws and 20 cat paws can track in a lot of gunk!

I've tried to use the extra indoor time for editing, which is helping to offset those lovely sunny days from last week when I got almost nothing done on the ms.

I'm also behind on my equine nutrition class homework, so I am vowing to be caught up with all my figuring by Sunday night. Right now I'm working on how many grams of protein each of my herd members needs for their weight, age, and level of work. It's not rocket science, but there are a lot of things that factor in to balancing an equine diet, and I'm just grateful for the support of the class to walk me through this.

I've said it before - only horses and/or children could get me to deal with needles, and the same holds true for math!

a little blessing from third grade

For the second time in two weeks I awakened to dense fog, and today I've been infatuated with the way the soft white causes other things, like open barn windows, and wet tree trunks, to stand out in stark relief. Which is intriguing, that something so untouchable and ethereal brings out the sharp edges of the things it surrounds.

For some reason, today's fog made me remember third grade, which was the year I was skipped ahead to a fifth grade class. It was a hard year for me, but for a part of that year we had a student teacher, whose name I can't recall, but I do remember the way she looked.

She had an intense passion for teaching and particularly for literature and poetry, and one of our assignments was to write a poem and then prepare it for display.

The poem I wrote was titled Mr. Mist and although I do not remember it entirely, I can recall a few lines, and the fact that the poem personified mist as a man who came wearing a "brown hat and cloak." I clearly remember being very excited about using the word cloak, which I'd obviously read in a book and while no one around me ever used that word, I loved it and wanted to incorporate it into my poem.

We had to read our work out loud, which was difficult for me, as I was very shy. It was also difficult because my audience, the fifth graders, had all written very funny, silly limerick style poems and mine was so serious and full of metaphor and imagery they just sat there while I read it, which I took as negative critique of the highest order.

The student teacher had pulled me aside earlier in the day to tell me how wonderful the poem was, and to praise the various elements I'd used, most of which were new to me. She was clearly excited about my work, and I remember her giving me a little hug, and saying how proud she was to hang the poem on the bulletin board. I'd copied it in newly-learned cursive handwriting and taped it onto a piece of bright yellow construction paper, and the incongruity and intention of that choice also made her smile. I explained that I wanted to make the contrast visible - the sunshine yellow paper for a poem that was all about mist and darkness.

That I recall all these details so vividly, all these years later, makes it obvious that her attention that day meant a lot to me, and I'm sure it was one of the earliest moments when I felt like someone else saw me for what I felt I was - a writer.

And how perfect it is that today, surrounded by mist and fog and the dark shapes made more intense, that wonderful feeling has come forth again, fully formed, a little blessing.

horse show season and reconciliation

It's the time of year when my email in-box is filling with announcements of horse shows, Pony Club rallies, and various horse activities that require hauling, and in some cases overnight stays.

I woke up this morning feeling bombarded with my own mixed feelings about all this. My daughter is in Pony Club, and greatly enjoys the activities they offer, and she also enjoys the Combined Training shows and cross country schooling opportunities that seem to be everywhere this time of year. Her trainers are active and frequently available for coaching at these events, and it's been fun to get a taste of the various horse sports over the past few years.

We are not a dedicated horse show family, however, and I find the logistics of these travels incredibly stressful. Plans have to be made for horse care for the herd members who stay home. With a few exceptions, hauling to these events requires completely altering the regular routines of the horses going. I fret about ulcers and colic and accidents and break-downs on the side of the road. Even more, I worry about what the horses are thinking and feeling as they drive off down our driveway and head off to a strange setting without the comfort and security of their herd.

Every month that passes I seem to be increasingly dedicated to a way of horse-keeping that makes traveling with horses a more difficult decision, and I find myself trying to reconcile my beliefs about what is good for horses with the enjoyment of horses in sport and competition.

It's even more difficult right now because I'm not reconciling on my own behalf, but on that of my daughter. It's become pretty clear to me that I will probably never choose to get up at the crack of dawn, load the Big Bay into a trailer, and haul him off to a show so that we can compete together. The idea that I would put him up for overnight stays in a setting where he couldn't go out to graze and roll and move freely is unthinkable for me personally.

I'd be just as happy to pay a judge to come watch us do a dressage test or two here, and give me feedback. I'd probably enjoy dressing up in all the right clothing to make the ride special. But otherwise, I don't have the desire to prepare, go through the process of getting to a show, and insert myself into a schedule that, imo, has nothing to do with what's best for horses.

But it's so clear to me that my daughter, who also loves our horses and obviously cares about their welfare, really does enjoy the excitement of a show setting. It's also clear that many people I like and respect enjoy the show atmosphere as well.

And I enjoy seeing horses and riders performing together at these events. It's impressive, and fun, and inspiring. But along with the successes, I have to witness some of the truly upsetting scenarios that invariably occur. Frightened horses. Riders who mistreat their horses. Accidents that the human has chosen to risk, but the horse hasn't been given that choice.

I'd love to know how any of you reconcile these things in your own lives, with your own horses. Or for that matter, dogs, or cats, and shows, and things like agility trials.

How do you balance all the factors? How much weight do you give your own pleasure and satisfaction versus that of the animal? How do you know when the animal actually gets something out of the experience so the risks and the stress of travel are outweighed?

For me, when we haul the pony or Cody, the best part is when they return home and step off the trailer, and I see the relief on their faces as they walk through the barn and through the gate to rejoin their herd. I'm not sure if that's an argument for going or not going, but it at least ends the travel on that particular day on a good note.

flying by the seat of our pants

This week has been chaotic in a lot of ways. Chase, our male Corgi, has a tumor in the same area as a cancerous one that was removed several years ago. While this one appears to be very different, we have to talk to the vet and create a treatment plan. Apollo Moon, our older cat, is having mini-seizures again, and suddenly sneezing off and on, so I've been trying to monitor him more closely the past few days.

My head is swimming with information for feed routines, and equine nutrition.

When I went out to open a new round bale last night, I discovered that both the round bales we had here were wet all the way through and spoiling. It was nearly 7 p.m. on a Saturday night and I had no hay!

My daughter and I managed to fill hay nets with the little bit left from the previous bale, and my husband and son returned home early from a weekend trip so that my husband could go get more hay early this a.m.

I reconfigured feed time last night to try and make the most of what we had, fretting that the temps were dropping to the 20s and the equines would need more than what we had.

In the midst of my worry, I forgot to soak beet pulp for this morning's breakfast.

My husband found the empty pitchers this morning and made up a batch, but by breakfast time, the pellets hadn't yet dissolved. He left to go get a new round bale, and I sat in the feed room, in the middle of the floor, surrounded by feed tubs, picking hot beet pulp pellets apart with my fingers. The horses and donkeys stood in the paddock, ready for breakfast but so patient. Every now and then I heard the chain on the gate being rattled, but I'd told them what was going on, and the usual impatient hubbub never happened. They stood and waited.

I called out periodically to let them know I was still working on the pellets. At some point a goose seemed to be circling the barn, honking repeatedly. Ted Andrews says in his book Animal Speak that the honking of the goose is a call to a quest. It all seemed funny suddenly, me sitting there, all the craziness with the hay and the beet pulp, and all the other things that never truly seem to be quite under my control, even given my tendency to be organized, fooling myself that planning and organizing are enough.

My husband got back with the hay just at the moment I finally served the breakfast tubs, and I realized we'd gone through the feeling of feast, famine, and then feast again within a 12-hour period.

Even with all the chaos, we are having a gorgeous springtime day, and I have spent much of it cleaning one small corner of the dining room, inch by inch, clearly a way of soothing this weekend's unsettling reminder that in fact, we're all pretty much flying by the seat of our pants, on a daily basis.

And remembering that, for the most part, flying by the seat of one's pants is okay.

week's end and the first day of spring!

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Addendum for anyone who is interested, up top so you won't miss is:

The Ontario Dehy Timothy Balance cubes are indeed the equivalent of horse crack. In fact, if you're like me and are a total horse nutrition/food geek, they're probably better than human crack! (not that I know about that, but... sticking with the analogy here)

I wet them down in my mixing bowl in the feed room and the smell was heavenly. The color is beautiful. They 'melt down' really quickly and look, truly, like something I would eat.

I made up a bit too much for the donkeys and the pony this a.m. and the donkeys couldn't eat all theirs! So I stuck their little tubs out in the paddock so anyone who wanted to could lick them out as they headed out to pasture.

None of them made it to the pasture - there was a total logjam of horses right up near the barn, all wanting the cube mix. It got a bit scary as Keil Bay was protecting both the tubs, Cody was hovering to get what Keil didn't eat, and Salina was determined Cody needed to leave the area ASAP.

Whew! All I can say, is, big hit with the cubes, and don't make my mistake with leftovers!


*******


Yesterday was another beautiful sunny day, and after doing the morning chores I went to the feed store to replenish some of my bins. I was excited to find that the feed store had gotten in my first bag of Ontario Dehy Timothy Balance cubes.

These are made from timothy hay, beet pulp, and have the correct mineral balance so that they are a complete feed if fed at the right % to body weight of the horse/donkey. They're often used for IR/Cushings' horses, but I'll be trying them with the pony and the donkey boys in an effort to simplify my feed routine and keep the easy keepers happy and healthy without high sugar/starch.

They do have to be soaked, and I'll add their loose salt, ground flax, and vit. E as needed, but otherwise, all the mineral work is done. (assuming nothing is really out of whack with hay/pasture analyses)

The bags are plain brown with the info printed on front and a lavender tag with the nutritional info. It reminded me of years ago when I worked in Perkins Library at Duke and the French shipments would come in brown paper lined with the most stunning lavender/purple paper. I used to ask for it and take it home, and for years all the gifts I gave were wrapped in that paper. Very understated and classic, but lovely.

So I was impressed when I saw this feed bag! The first thing I did when I got it in the bin in the feed room was open it up and check out the cubes. They are lovely too, very green and really, like something you'd pop into a pot of soup cooking on the stove. I'll be trying them out this morning, mixing a few into the existing mix to let the pony and the donkeys get used to them. I have read that they are like "horse crack" for many horses - we'll see.

After Salina had lunch, my daughter helped me get Cody cleaned up for a ride. He was a mud cake, again, and it took awhile! But then I had a lesson with my daughter as instructor, although it probably wouldn't be too far off base to refer to her as a drill sergeant.

She stood on the mounting block with my dressage whip and issued her commands while waving the whip about. Cody didn't mind, but it was very disorienting to ME. She tends to push me really hard in these lessons she gives, and I get a lot of feedback on my position.

Keep those heels bouncy. Fix your wrists. Stop pulling on his mouth. Don't use your leg every stride. Bigger trot!

And I thought I was doing pretty well!

She's a no-nonsense instructor.

At one point I balked at something she told me to do, saying I'd already done that, and she responded:

No talking back!

I finally had to inform her that my thighs were jelly and she would have to hop on and finish Cody's canter work. Which she did, but with a few comments about me pushing harder.

It was an interesting ride. We're doing a new protocol with Cody right now and are closely monitoring his movement. We're seeing a much more relaxed, swinging walk, and a bigger canter, but the trot is slower to change. Yesterday, I noticed that the canter was so big it almost felt like the early cantering I did on Keil Bay. I can usually sit Cody's canter easily, but yesterday found myself going up in the saddle and riding it in two-point the first few strides.

There were two sequences of trot where he got on the bit and really pushed from behind, and it felt just like it does when Keil Bay turns on his Big Powerful Trot. So I think we're on the right path.

I realized again about myself that daily riding is the secret to all good things. If I miss days my back gets what I call "the hinge" and I get the blahs (not mentally so much as physically) and my riding stamina decreases.

After sponging Cody down and letting him have some time in the barnyard, my daughter got the pony going for his ride, while I cleaned Cody's bridle and watched.

During the course of her ride, we went from sunshine to a very ominous deep blue/black sky, and the wind began to whip up. When she got off, we had to move quickly to get the barn set up for evening.

Especially touching was Keil Bay walking with me to the back field to get Salina's fly mask, and to close the back gate. The wind was really blowing, and there was a bit of lightning, but he had gone into protector mode and didn't want any of the herd wandering out.

Believe it or not, we had a rainstorm last night! The sun is back today, and I hope we haven't completely reverted to mud outside. Certain areas hadn't even dried out completely from the last rain spell.

Today, the first day of spring, is sunny and bright. I have two family members heading for the beach and the other one off to a sleepover/party. So by this evening I'll be celebrating the vernal equinox on my own.

The redbuds are blooming, I've pulled the first tick of the season off the Big Bay, and I received notice that the first batch of fly predators has been shipped. Spring really is here.