Rafer and Redford - Donkeys Extraordinaire

Rafer Johnson and Redford started out 2012 as puffballs.

Rafer Johnson battled white line disease in both front hooves and won - thanks to a wonderful new trimmer his hooves have now grown out completely healthy again, and he is running around like his regular self.

When she was here last week he lined up to get his feet trimmed first just like always, which made me happy. His trust is something to treasure and maintain, and she has done that with him. He knows who helped him feel better!

Here he is more recently, without some of that winter coat:

And here is Redford donkey, who as you can see, has fully recovered from the slightly nightmare gelding experience and is back to his full of life, full of laughter self.

It's just one hilarious moment after another here on November Hill:

it's a Keil Bay day!

It's a Keil Bay day... it's a Keil Bay day-hay-hay-hay... it's Keil's day, he has it his way, it's Keil's day...

Insert musical notes above. This is one of the many nonsensical songs I sing to the Big Bay, and this morning when I woke up I knew in fact that it WAS going to be a Keil Bay day - just me and Keil doing what we wanted to do, with no time frame, no goals, just playing the song and the time by ear.

It's been awhile since I posted photos, so here are a few from this year. The first one is me and Keil Bay, all bundled up on a chilly winter afternoon, getting ready for a ride:

And eating hay:

Surveying his November Hill:

With his best buddy Cody:

This morning after breakfast I did a long grooming session while the Big Bay had his hay from the hay-barrow in the barn aisle. He had asked pretty loudly for some hay as daughter was serving it out, so I asked her to bring the hay-barrow right to him so he could eat while I worked on him. I brushed him from head to tail three times: first with hard brush and curry, then with medium brush and rubber mitt, and finally with a soft brush.

I did a tick check, brushed and combed out his mane and tail, and then trimmed his tail - it was nearly dragging the ground.

The Big Bay indicated that it was time for a sheath cleaning, so I used my fabulous electric kettle to heat up some water, made a bucket of warm water using that and some cold from the tap, and got out the ExCalibur.

After that I cleaned Keil's hooves out and dusted them with my own mix that approximates the ingredients of the product called No Thrush - we have used that over the past year or so and I like it, but it's terribly expensive, imo, so I made my own. I did substitute one major ingredient for one of theirs, based on what I know about antibacterial herbs. My version is vastly less in cost and it works great.

After all this leisurely grooming, I moved Keil to a dryer spot in the barn aisle and tacked him up. He was clearly ready for it - at one point the donkey boys had come into the barn aisle and pulled Keil's lead line out of its loop of twine - and he turned to the tack room and just waited for me, watching for me to bring out his saddle pad, the first step in tacking up.

With this too I went slowly - stopping at each step to watch and make sure he was still in agreement. I did the girth up one notch at a time, using the minutes in between to do another little task. When he was all set, we headed to the arena only to realize that I had forgotten my stirrups AND my riding boots, so back we went to the barn for those items. Keil stood quietly while I slid the leathers on to his saddle and got my boots on.

It's a gorgeous day today - pretty much perfect temp, with a cool breeze to keep the flies away. We did walking only. After a bit of warm up, and then a bit of me focusing hard (too hard) on every little detail of the ride, I decided to do one of my "what the hell" days and just forget all about dressage and all about riding lessons and theory and just sit on Keil Bay's magnificent back and let my body go to its own "happy place."

I looked down at Keil's mane as I reached forward to give him a big pat - and woohoo - there was a silver corkscrew "wild hair"!  They're coming out all over the place here on November Hill and we treasure each one and love what they represent for our aging, wiser, selves. :)


Lo and behold, everything got better. Things had been good before, but suddenly there was an ease of movement in both of us. We rode around in Keil Bay's huge rhythmic walk stride and as far as I was concerned in that moment we were just traveling together through the world.

There's a time and a place for goals and focus and all the things we think about when we try to do the right things in our riding. There's also a time and a place to let go of all that and just enjoy the moment. Sometimes I get too caught up in what I'm doing, if and how Keil Bay is doing what I'm asking, and I get very stuck in thinking I have the ability to control/cue things perfectly. I don't, and even if I did, I'm not the kind of rider who expects a horse to respond like a trained monkey. (I wouldn't even expect a MONKEY to respond like a trained monkey!)

For me, riding is always going to be a conversation, and I'm always going to allow the horse to have an opinion and some say about what happens in the process.


It almost always happens that when I let go of trying to do something very specific while riding, the good stuff happens on its own. So I let go, and did the Sally Swift soft eye thing, and just let my body sit in the saddle the way it felt most comfortable, and let Keil Bay take care of his own self and walk his normal walk, which is beautiful and bold and panther-like, and you know what? He was just born with that walk. No one has trained him to do it, and I don't have to do everything an exact way to get him to do it.

We had a lot of lovely, aimless, walking once I gave up on my overthinking. I gave up thinking at all.

After the ride, Keil Bay got two big handfuls of oats and stood completely connected to me while I untacked him, and even after I was done brushing him down again, he stood and kept me company in the door of the tack room while I oiled his saddle and bridle, my riding boots, and tidied things up a bit in there. This took at least half an hour, and the Big Bay stood relaxed, his big head and neck inside the tack room, calmly watching me and simply being there with me.


I had to convince him that it was okay to go in the open stall next door to have some hay and enjoy the fans.

He eventually ended up in the stall eating hay, with everyone in different stalls today - the pony right beside Keil Bay, Cody across the barn aisle in his own stall, and Salina and the donkey boys taking up two stalls that were open to the back paddock.

As I gathered my things to come inside, Keil walked out with me into the big barnyard, and then he went back and stood by Cody's stall door. So I opened it up - and after one last pat, Keil Bay and Cody walked off into the barnyard together, to graze.

It's a Keil Bay day - and when I let things go his way, when I listen to him and follow his lead, he never steers us wrong.

Corgi Fun

If the felines of November Hill are featured then you know what has to come next - Corgis!

We have 12-year old Kyra and almost-2-year old Bear. Bear came to live with us as a puppy, about nine months after we said goodbye to Kyra's litter mate brother Chase, who died of a cancerous tumor.

Chase was a loyal, sweet boy who loved to play fetch. Kyra had never lived without him, and she grieved for several months after his death. She also developed a severe skin allergy that took a lot of effort to figure out - and I feel certain part of it was her sadness over losing her constant companion.

The day Bear came home to November Hill, I took the crate he was in and set it down in front of Kyra. She needed to meet him first and I held my breath hoping that it would be a good thing that we had brought home a puppy. She took one sniff and her entire Corgi butt began to wag. Bear has been the best thing ever for Kyra - in a few minute's time she got her spirit back, and her spunk and the two of them have been best buddies ever since.

Bear was and is smart enough to know that Kyra is the Queen, but he was and is spunky enough to test her just the right amount to keep her on her toes.

Here they are doing yoga together:

And playing Corgi tag:

It's hard to believe that that cute little puppy is now all grown up:

The thing about Bear Corgi is that he is EVERYwhere:

Doing EVERYthing:
 

He's always coming to see what's going on:

Or digging someplace he's not supposed to be:

 Which is probably why he almost always has a slightly guilty expression on his face.

Kyra says there are more pictures of the Wild Nosy Banshee because she is a Corgi Who Minds Her Own Business.


But those who live with her know that she gets involved in EVERY conversation that goes on between Bear and the Five Aforementioned Felines.


There are good reasons behind the nicknames Ka-bear and Kyra Crotchet. :)

UVA Torturing Cats to Train Medical Students

I opened my email just now to find this:

http://www.change.org/petitions/uva-president-stop-cruel-outdated-trainings-on-cats?utm_campaign=DfDUPbFetJ&utm_medium=email&utm_source=action_alert

You can cut/paste or just CLICK HERE to sign this petition.

Once again I am mortified and ashamed about what humans think is okay to do in the name of science.

This has pushed me over the edge this afternoon - I just cannot believe this.

the November Hill Pride

Husband left a huge folder of photographs on my desktop earlier this evening and suddenly I have a treasure chest to explore!

Here are some updated photos of some of the November Hill crew that are not equine - although Dickens E. Wickens was surely a horse in a previous life.

Here's Osage, aka Muffine Eloise, resident princess:

She knows how to live the life of feline leisure, venturing out to the back deck to take a bit of sun before napping:

Here is Dickens E. Wickens, resident cowboy. He patrols the fence lines, herds horses and donkeys, does a little bit of equine training on the side, sits by campfires and thinks about women and glasses of beer, and takes care of the day to day running of the farm. He was convinced to pose for this somewhat formal portrait:

Here he is in a more normal pose - stretching on one of his favorite look-outs - on the side of the horse trailer in the big barnyard:

And here we have the handsome, mysterious, stealth-cat, Mystic:

 

 His domain tends to be the front porch, the front field and the driveway, and my daughter's room. He finds all kinds of sneaky ways to get in, which he has to do because of a certain Bear Corgi who can't resist chasing a cat that runs. And Mystic almost ALWAYS runs!

 

This is Apollo Moon, most affectionately known as Moomintroll. He has had a rough year but was just diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and is on a month-long homeopathic treatment. We'll recheck bloodwork and see if it's helped. If not, we'll proceed with the medication usually given to cats to help with this issue. Moomin sleeps by my head nearly every night. He snuggles up on my shoulder while I read and purrs in my ear. We don't know exactly how old he is because he arrived one day at the barn as thin as a rail and has been here ever since. We think he is somewhere in the 15-17 year old range. He's polydactyl, has no front claws, and packs a powerful smack with his big mittens. He's a sweetheart with spunk.

 Moomin goes on the front porch periodically and occasionally goes out into the front or back yard. Once in a very blue moon he goes out to the barn - but from the moment he arrived here he wanted to come into the house and that is where he mostly stays. Speaking of moons - he has a perfect white moon on his belly that makes rare appearances when he stretches out and lets his belly show - hence his name, Apollo Moon. Here he is on his favorite chair. He is often draped across my husband's chest as he sits here working on his laptop.

And finally, our black cat Keats, aka Weets-Anne.  She is a huntress and very sweet. She is also HUGE and could possibly stand a few weeks in a kit-meow weight-loss spa. She can be found anywhere on November Hill, although occasionally she gets chased by her brother Dickens who has been known to make both his sisters scream.

Keats in the arena, where she sometimes visits and watches the action:

And that's it! All the fabulous felines who keep us company here on the hill.