please read and act for the donkeys TODAY!!

GO HERE for all the info you need.

There are 40 donkeys waiting to be used for donkey roping this weekend. There is a rescue standing ready to take ALL of them and release them from this torture.

Call the owner and proprietor, Jason Owens, who earns a living putting donkeys in arenas to be roped fore and aft and stretched out like a rubber band. Over and over again.

Tell him why donkeys do not deserve this kind of abuse.

Call the Texas Attorney General's office too and tell them to look into it. Just because something is a tradition doesn't make it right. Supposedly humans have the ability to grow and change and enlighten ourselves - why not start now, with THIS!!

Please help stop donkey roping!

Linda Carson at 7MSN has posted two blog posts giving information about an upcoming donkey roping debacle in Van Horn, Texas. This is an extremely cruel sport in which donkeys are prodded with electricity to frighten them into running, then roped fore and aft by two different riders who stretch them out between the two horses.

Needless to say, the psychological and physical injuries that result are hideous.

GO HERE for the update and then go back to the post right before if you need more info. If enough people protest this horrible sport they will stop it. Shame is a powerful motivator. And maybe enough folks will stop and THINK about what it means to the donkeys.

No, this will not save all the donkeys in the entire world from this cruel fate. But for the donkeys lined up to be roped in this particular 'fiesta' it will mean the world.

This is what happy donkeys look like:

the magic of three

Three planets in the sky, earlier this year. I had planned a brief blog post as proof of barn magic.

This morning, husband away, I went out early and found Salina, who only yesterday looked so good I marveled at her swinging walk, flat out in the barn aisle, head and neck and withers right up to the barn aisle wall.

Two amazing, incredible teens and I managed to get her turned and calmed and one very special donkey boy, when I put down the ropes and said "maybe this is it," brought me a lead line and laid it at my feet and looked up at me saying without words but so very clearly "no, it is not! get her up!"

She got up. Vet came and proclaimed it Not That Time. Tweaked meds. Cleaned re-opened hip point wound. By the time the vet truck rolled out the Grand Old Mare was banging and whinnying for her breakfast.

We are grateful for every day. And I am thankful for barn magic.

home is where the heart is

Ever since the first day we drove into our driveway and saw the view above (without the fog though!), I have felt like November Hill, as we later named our little farm, is HOME.  As I just typed that line, movement outside my window pulled my attention to the front field and there was Keil Bay marching up the hill, followed by Apache Moon, followed by Cody. The three of them in a line, in full stride, at that moment, is the perfect example of why November Hill, on a daily basis, feels like a living, breathing presence in my life. The horses are the life's blood of November Hill. Things seem to connect here, and I feel like the entire farm is in sync with me.

Yesterday we woke up to Salina lying flat beneath the barn shelter, and it was obvious she had been struggling to get up. She was surrounded by her herd, who I think were protecting her at that point. She had created a sort of hole, in which she was tipped back a bit too far, and close enough to the wall of the barn that she couldn't roll over and get up the opposite way.

After a couple of tries to get her up we called the vet, who was contacting someone who has a small crane that can be used to help get a horse up. My husband decided to turn her to see if the change in angle might help.

Initially it didn't seem to. I wondered if we were looking at That Time. But then Redford brayed and Salina whinnied back, and her whinny was strong and clear and I felt like she just needed some help. I decided to go in the barn and start my normal morning routine - to do the things I do in the barn that one does in one's home. I turned on the fans, started gathering the feed tubs, and began to measure the various feedstuffs into the tubs.

Salina suddenly went into action and my brave husband stood behind her and supported her as she heaved up and got her footing. He continued supporting her until she was steady. And she walked through the open gate and into the barn aisle just like she does every morning. As smart as she is, she walked on through and into the barnyard, keeping moving, getting her legs back.

We did a few things we thought would help - had given her a dose of Banamine already, but offered her a handful of oats in water to get some fluid in, which she took. Then some wet hay. She ate a bit of that but preferred the grass in the barnyard, which was the right choice. She slowly walked around the entire perimeter of the barnyard, nibbling and stretching and moving.

Within a few minutes she had dropped manure, and within an hour, urinated. We slowly started seeing all the signs one wants to see after a horse has been down and is now back up again.

Throughout this ordeal, I was extremely stressed but mostly calm. What helps me in these moments is the sense of place that exists here, the feeling that the view of the farm, as above, represents not just a still photo of the place we sleep at night, but the face of a complex, living, breathing, full of life character who holds, as in the cupped palms of safe hands, all of us who live here.

Home.

Through the course of the year November Hill offers me many moments of discovery. On Monday I found an unfinished arrowhead in the dirt paddock. I suddenly felt a connection to someone who lived here many years ago, living a different kind of life but perhaps attached to the land and nature the same way I am.

Yesterday in the middle of the turmoil I looked up and saw a lone dove perched on the very top of the dead but still standing tulip poplar at the top of the front field. I had seen the dove on Monday when I found the arrowhead and wondered which one of the couple the dove was - male or female - and what had happened to the other one. It was a sad moment but then I wondered if it might be a young dove, not yet paired up, looking for his/her partner in life. An ending or a beginning - I had no way of knowing which.


When I saw the lone dove at the top of the tree, I immediately thought of Lonesome Dove, a favorite book, a saga, and somehow it felt comforting. We all live our own sagas. What was happening with Salina was one page in the bigger story, and that helped me know that we would get through it one way or another. An ending, or a beginning.


On my way to the feed store yesterday I felt some anxiety as I neared the end of our driveway. I didn't want to leave, but needed supplies. Just as I neared the road, a reddish-orange bird landed on the fence to my right. I slowed to get a closer look, thinking it was a cardinal, but it wasn't. It actually looked like a variation of a mini toucan. I've never seen such a bird before, but it felt special, like the bird had come from a distant land to give me a message. It felt hopeful, so I drove on.

I saw the bird again yesterday afternoon, in the back field, where it once again landed on the fence and watched me for a few moments before taking flight again.

The first day we visited November Hill and in fact made the offer to buy it, my children found an empty turtle shell in the back field. Last week I saw what is probably the grandchild of that turtle, making its way down to the fenceline, in no hurry at all. I picked it up and gazed into its copper eyes and the turtle gazed back. I put it down and off it went, continuing the journey.

It occurs to me that November Hill is a place, and our home, but it's also the home for many other creatures. We feel safe here and we all exist together, all on our separate, but interconnected, journeys.

Salina is the heartbeat of November Hill. She keeps her eye on everything, much like I do, and with the two of us we don't miss much around here.

I've been thinking of a blanket of warm healing energy surrounding her, and thinking of heart, and fire, and the heart of a home, and the hearth of a home.

And the photo my husband left on my desktop recently and how it represents all of that and so much more.

I was going to take a break from the internet after Memorial Day weekend. I tend to need a few hiatuses a year from the online world to get myself centered and grounded in the real world.

I'm going to start the time off today, with this post, and focus for awhile on the earth and fire, the water and the fog, and the life blood of my home - the horses and the donkeys and the teenagers and the cats and Corgis and a brave husband who is willing to stand behind a 1200+ pound mare and hold her up with all his might.

If anything too wonderful for words comes up, I'll pop back in and post, but for now, until later this summer, I'm going to be out at the barn, or writing, or spending time with this November Hill crew. Keep an eye out for new titles from November Hill Press. There are two very close to publication right now.

Travel well, stay safe, until the next post!

ADDENDUM:

Just had to pop in and add that yesterday one of the signature November Hill box turtles was discovered trying to get into our garage door, parked there like a little car. Husband brought it up to show me and it was tight inside its shell, but I asked him to come out and he opened his shell the tiniest crack and let me see his eyes, then as I talked more, he came all the way out - head, then neck, finally legs fully extended and then he went into fast walk mode in my hands! We relocated him to the back field hoping he had relayed his message and was ready to get on with his regular turtle travels.

Salina is doing well - turning out with the geldings for several hours each evening before coming back to her paddocks with the donkeys for the rest of the nights. Scrapes are healing, swelling is gone, and we are getting ready to extend her grass paddock to allow more room to graze. For now I'm not comfortable with her having access to the barn shelter in the early mornings - fortunately we have a number of options to explore to find what works well for her.

couple of PSAs for horse folk: HA gel and sink holes

The first one I meant to post about previously but it keeps slipping my mind... for anyone who uses or wants to use HA (hylaronic acid) for your horse as a joint supplement but feel the products one can find are too expensive, here is a very cost effective way to add this to your horse's diet.

My understanding about HA is that it is best absorbed in gel form. I buy pure, human-grade HA powder from My Best Horse (click above tab to get more info on this super online shop for horse supplements) and make my own.

You'll need a 30cc dosing syringe. The instructions for mixing up a dose for a 1000 or so lb. horse are as follows:  mix 1/4 tsp (about 350mg) of the HA powder with 20cc of water in the dosing syringe. Shake, refrigerate, and shake a few more times over the next hour or so. You'll see this turns to a beautiful clear gel which is ready to squirt into the mouth of your horse. This amount is two doses - I give half to Salina and half to Keil Bay so we make up a new syringe each day for the two of them.

I gave Salina a double loading dose for the first 3 days with good results.

A wonderful benefit to doing this... I mix my powder and water in a little glass before pouring into the syringe - and when I'm done I swipe out what is in the glass and rub it into my hands and face. Works just like the expensive face creams that use HA as a main ingredient. :)

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The second thing: this morning I was walking around the front field. I tend to be out and about in our fields regularly as we muck and compost our manure. I was actually this morning bemoaning the fact that I took a break yesterday and no one else pitched in. Okay... I admit, bemoaning is not quite the right word for what was going through my mind!

But then as I jammed the muck rake through a pile of manure, I saw the giant, just bigger than hoof sized, knee-deep sink hole. It was one of those holes that you just almost have to sit down and catch your breath when you see one in your field. Did they see it and walk around it? Were equine angels taking care of them?

I don't know, but I am completely grateful that none of this herd managed to run through that area and hit that hole. It makes me shudder even now to think about it.

I collect any rocks I find in the fields and stack them by fence posts and by the bottoms of our trees. Sometimes they get pushed back out into the field area by busybody equines, sometimes we get a huge deluge of rain and they wash back out a bit, but it only takes a few minutes to stack them back and on a day like today, when there was a big, deep hole that needed to be addressed immediately, all I had to do was walk a few feet in any direction and find one of my rock stashes to fill it.

There are days when I wish for barn help, other days when I wish for the pasture equivalent of a RoomBa, days when I think I have just gone over the top thinking I can compost every piece of manure that falls on this farm. But when I see one of these holes I realize how good an idea it is to get out and walk the areas our horses live in. There are all sorts of things that can be noted and repaired while doing so, and the likelihood that anyone else would be so attentive... I'm not sure I could find anyone quite as OCD as I am about watching for these things!