We made it through the July 4th craziness with not much fanfare (on the 5th I had to make a drive up the lane in my pjs to stop some very late night fireworks and was helped by a sudden thunderstorm that rolled in out of nowhere), but have had lots of little chores to do here this week that have taken up all my time.
Salina has been going crazy with a very badly placed tick bite (the bite itself happened over two weeks ago) and in the process scraped up the wrinkly flesh right between her hind legs. I'd been washing it and gently scratching it for her each morning, using a calendula tincture which had helped it to heal. I realized late one evening when she went out that she was backing herself into our reclining bonsai pine tree and using a section of dead branches to very indelicately take care of that itch! We spent that evening pruning the pine tree of all its dead branches, cleaned up a few other trees, and ended up with a fairly large pile that needs to be burned. Which we couldn't/wouldn't do yet because of the dry landscape.
I was afraid she would back into the pile itself and get tangled up, so we rotated the herd to the front field. She immediately went into the copse of trees up top and found a new place to rub on - I had visions of her impaling herself so she had to stay in with the donkeys that night as it was already dark and we couldn't see to prune!
That area got taken care of yesterday so she was able to turn out as usual last night.
We've had rain Tuesday night, rain yesterday during the day, more rain last night - it's finally starting to catch us up to where we need to be for grass to grow again. But between fireworks on Tuesday night, thunder and lightning several days in a row, us pruning at odd hours, and Bear Corgi going on a wild chase last night in the dark, the herd has been stirred up.
Our wildlife neighbors have been stirred up as well. Yesterday I heard a crow cawing while I was doing chores in the barn. Cody was standing in the end stall nearest the house looking out so I walked to where I could see what he was looking at. The crow - I actually think it was a raven because of its size and the shape of its beak - was perched on the fence post right by Cody's back door, looking and cawing. Cody seemed to be communing with him. If I'd had my camera, it would have been a fabulous photograph!
Later in the evening I saw a doe and tiny spotted fawn right by the fence line. They didn't run, but stood so I could see them. The doe seemed too small and young herself to have a fawn. Husband said maybe the deer herd who share the property around us are having a teenaged pregnancy issue!
It's been a bit of a hectic week here.
I'm declaring today the official end to unrest on the hill. It's time to get back to the lazy days and nights of summer!
billie hinton’s camera-obscura:
life and lessons on November Hill Farm
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
sad news: Fugly blog is for sale
I have not been a daily reader, but periodically loved getting a hit of someone so to the point and honest in her reporting about bad horsemanship and bad horsekeeping practices. Sometimes it feels good to hear someone say what really needs to be said in a situation.
Go read THIS POST for a wonderful list of things she hopes folks have learned from reading the Fugly blog over the years. It should be printed out and posted on every horseowner's wall.
Go read THIS POST for a wonderful list of things she hopes folks have learned from reading the Fugly blog over the years. It should be printed out and posted on every horseowner's wall.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Saturday, July 02, 2011
more on Schmersal's reining footage
Three top veterinarians have responded with concern to footage of Craig Schmersal riding his horse in warm-up in the recent reining competition in Sweden, two of them former chairmen of the FEI Veterinary Committee.
http://epona.tv/uk/news/show/artikel/olympic-vet-its-rollkur/?tx_ttnews[backPid]=388&cHash=2a51608d5b245572a1624b925f10a0f2
The U.S. Humane Society's response: no comment.
http://epona.tv/uk/news/show/artikel/hsus-no-comment/?tx_ttnews[backPid]=388&cHash=11e728977bb21d2d5b307e65a83241f5
Although HSUS took a strong stance against Patrik Kittel and the blue tongue video that horrified many people last year, I suppose it's harder to call a spade a spade when American so-called "cowboys" are doing the riding.
Shame on you, Humane Society. And shame on the sponsors who are waiting on the FEI to crack down on Schmersal, which we all know is like waiting for molasses to slide down a brick wall.
Take a stand based on what your own gut tells you when you watch that video.
Wouldn't it be refreshing if two American riders took a stand in reining and decided to use their status in the sport to make a difference for horses? Stop the abusive methods, use real horsemanship, and treat the horses like the incredible partners they are. Then you'd not only win the trophies and the cash, you'd be heroes, too.
http://epona.tv/uk/news/show/artikel/olympic-vet-its-rollkur/?tx_ttnews[backPid]=388&cHash=2a51608d5b245572a1624b925f10a0f2
The U.S. Humane Society's response: no comment.
http://epona.tv/uk/news/show/artikel/hsus-no-comment/?tx_ttnews[backPid]=388&cHash=11e728977bb21d2d5b307e65a83241f5
Although HSUS took a strong stance against Patrik Kittel and the blue tongue video that horrified many people last year, I suppose it's harder to call a spade a spade when American so-called "cowboys" are doing the riding.
Shame on you, Humane Society. And shame on the sponsors who are waiting on the FEI to crack down on Schmersal, which we all know is like waiting for molasses to slide down a brick wall.
Take a stand based on what your own gut tells you when you watch that video.
Wouldn't it be refreshing if two American riders took a stand in reining and decided to use their status in the sport to make a difference for horses? Stop the abusive methods, use real horsemanship, and treat the horses like the incredible partners they are. Then you'd not only win the trophies and the cash, you'd be heroes, too.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Barn Time, 1: and then the rain came
As if I don't have enough series rolling, here's a new one which seems to fit these hot summer days: barn time.
I've been going out to the barn each morning and getting lost in the routine of readying six equines for their day. They've been out all night, grazing hay, much like they do in the winter. After a month of no rain the grass has dried up almost completely, as has the ground.
I was thinking the day before yesterday that in some ways this level of drought, speaking only of November Hill, works pretty well. With a herd of easy keepers and really wonderful organically grown hay (hay grower lives in another part of the county with decent rainfall this summer) that tests below 10% sugar/starch and is easy to balance mineral-wise, cutting grass mostly out of the forage equation works well for this crew. As does the dry earth on hooves.
A few minutes after having that thought two days ago, it started to pour rain. For about a minute, until I lost my focus and raised my arms up to the sky saying THANK YOU - then it stopped.
Yesterday I decided to stay in the moment and not think about all the implications of rain/no rain. I walked out in the heat, which was more intense yesterday than it had been, and felt the dry ground under my muck boots, perused the crunchy brown stuff, the dried out red clay soil, and started thinking about Cormac McCarthy novels. West Texas and Mexico, dry heat and cracked earth, brown dust on boots. Extremes. When I think of Cormac's novels, I think of extremes.
After swaggering around in the sun for a little while, I went back in the barn and got in the moment with horses. Keil Bay stood in the feed room door while I made tubs and his happiness at being given that privilege made me smile. He is happiest when he's my partner in all things, without the divisions of gates and stall doors and lead ropes tied to things. Recently he found me in his stall, mucking, and he was in the barn aisle. We had the most wonderful moments of role reversal as he walked up to the stall door and I hung MY head over from the inside and let him nuzzle me. I was closed in and he was free. He seemed amused and then his eyes took on a questioning air, almost as if he was worried that I might not be able to get out.
We enjoy freedom here on November Hill. Although you might think a nearly 1400-lb. Hanoverian whose nickname is The King would be bossy and rude, he isn't. He responds very well to simple and polite requests, and goes further - he is often quite helpful.
Like yesterday morning, when I had set feed tubs up but needed to run back into the house to get something I'd forgotten. I told the horses I'd be right back, sailed down the barn aisle, and then remembered I'd left the feed room door wide open. Not a great idea with two donkeys and Keil Bay standing there gazing at all those full feed tubs. I stopped, turned around, had the thought I need to close that door and Keil Bay reached around with his nose, hooked the edge of the door, and slammed it closed with a nice resounding bang.
How's that for being helpful?
The horses and donkeys are all laid back and happy on summer mornings. They've been out all night, are ready for fans and breakfast and nice clean stalls where they can hang out during the heat of the day. They get brushed and checked over, they get herbal fly spray and full mangers. We try to make things comfortable and pleasant for them. I'm rotating one gelding over to the other side of the barn each day, to give that one a break from the pony, who is really making a big play for herd leader this summer. Usually I go to the paddock gate and call out, and one of the geldings will come out and walk through to the other side. They actually do a decent job of alternating so the rotation is equitable.
After I got inside yesterday I made a comment on Facebook about the farm feeling like a Cormac McCarthy novel. An hour later, the sky was dark and we had a huge thunderstorm. Extreme. Lightning struck numerous times right beside our house, so close that sitting on the front porch I could hear the sizzle before it hit. The goldfinches were fussing in the sweetgum tree, darting in and out in flashes of yellow.
Kyra Corgi was shaking, so I came in and offered Rescue Remedy, which she took, and Bear Corgi wanted a dose too even though he wasn't shaking, so I gave him one as well.
It rained solidly for about 40 minutes, steadily but not so hard or so fast that we got water washing around - it soaked in, which is exactly what it needed to do.
My daughter and son were in the barn feeding Salina and giving more hay. At one point Keil Bay and the pony ran out into the front field and got under a tree. My son convinced them to come back to the barn. Teens and equines weathered the storm together.
Last night I was in the barn for evening feed. Salina got her Summer Whinnies off for laundering and we put some ointment on her eye when we took her fly mask off for the night. She and the donkeys were staying near the barn for the evening in case more rain came, but I opened the arena gate so they could meander around in there and be close to the back field where the geldings were.
Keil Bay was out scouting the back field but appeared, almost as if by magic, as I checked the water troughs. I stood with him while he had a drink, and then we walked off together, my hand on his wither, connected. A few times since moving here with the horses I have felt like their energy carried me along with them - my feet not needing to move, not really even on the earth. Last night was one of those times. It's like being grounded, but through the horse's body, not my own.
Earlier I'd been grounded by two donkeys as I sat in the barn aisle giving neck scratches and ear scratches and a butt scratch for Redford. The donkeys both have silky smooth areas now and a few scruffy areas that haven't fully shed out yet, and the sensation of winter coat and then silky summer coat on my fingers was wonderful. I had the thought that it would be nice to be able to see each of their deep, all-knowing donkey eyes at once, but with my human eyes, could only gaze one way into Rafer's and then the other into Redford's. Still, I soaked in that donkey calm. It's a potent mixture that anyone with donkeys knows can cure you of almost anything, at least for a time.
I think I've written this here before, but there is sidereal time, there's kairos, and I think there's a good case for yet another kind of time. Barn time. There is nothing else like it.
I've been going out to the barn each morning and getting lost in the routine of readying six equines for their day. They've been out all night, grazing hay, much like they do in the winter. After a month of no rain the grass has dried up almost completely, as has the ground.
I was thinking the day before yesterday that in some ways this level of drought, speaking only of November Hill, works pretty well. With a herd of easy keepers and really wonderful organically grown hay (hay grower lives in another part of the county with decent rainfall this summer) that tests below 10% sugar/starch and is easy to balance mineral-wise, cutting grass mostly out of the forage equation works well for this crew. As does the dry earth on hooves.
A few minutes after having that thought two days ago, it started to pour rain. For about a minute, until I lost my focus and raised my arms up to the sky saying THANK YOU - then it stopped.
Yesterday I decided to stay in the moment and not think about all the implications of rain/no rain. I walked out in the heat, which was more intense yesterday than it had been, and felt the dry ground under my muck boots, perused the crunchy brown stuff, the dried out red clay soil, and started thinking about Cormac McCarthy novels. West Texas and Mexico, dry heat and cracked earth, brown dust on boots. Extremes. When I think of Cormac's novels, I think of extremes.
After swaggering around in the sun for a little while, I went back in the barn and got in the moment with horses. Keil Bay stood in the feed room door while I made tubs and his happiness at being given that privilege made me smile. He is happiest when he's my partner in all things, without the divisions of gates and stall doors and lead ropes tied to things. Recently he found me in his stall, mucking, and he was in the barn aisle. We had the most wonderful moments of role reversal as he walked up to the stall door and I hung MY head over from the inside and let him nuzzle me. I was closed in and he was free. He seemed amused and then his eyes took on a questioning air, almost as if he was worried that I might not be able to get out.
We enjoy freedom here on November Hill. Although you might think a nearly 1400-lb. Hanoverian whose nickname is The King would be bossy and rude, he isn't. He responds very well to simple and polite requests, and goes further - he is often quite helpful.
Like yesterday morning, when I had set feed tubs up but needed to run back into the house to get something I'd forgotten. I told the horses I'd be right back, sailed down the barn aisle, and then remembered I'd left the feed room door wide open. Not a great idea with two donkeys and Keil Bay standing there gazing at all those full feed tubs. I stopped, turned around, had the thought I need to close that door and Keil Bay reached around with his nose, hooked the edge of the door, and slammed it closed with a nice resounding bang.
How's that for being helpful?
The horses and donkeys are all laid back and happy on summer mornings. They've been out all night, are ready for fans and breakfast and nice clean stalls where they can hang out during the heat of the day. They get brushed and checked over, they get herbal fly spray and full mangers. We try to make things comfortable and pleasant for them. I'm rotating one gelding over to the other side of the barn each day, to give that one a break from the pony, who is really making a big play for herd leader this summer. Usually I go to the paddock gate and call out, and one of the geldings will come out and walk through to the other side. They actually do a decent job of alternating so the rotation is equitable.
After I got inside yesterday I made a comment on Facebook about the farm feeling like a Cormac McCarthy novel. An hour later, the sky was dark and we had a huge thunderstorm. Extreme. Lightning struck numerous times right beside our house, so close that sitting on the front porch I could hear the sizzle before it hit. The goldfinches were fussing in the sweetgum tree, darting in and out in flashes of yellow.
Kyra Corgi was shaking, so I came in and offered Rescue Remedy, which she took, and Bear Corgi wanted a dose too even though he wasn't shaking, so I gave him one as well.
It rained solidly for about 40 minutes, steadily but not so hard or so fast that we got water washing around - it soaked in, which is exactly what it needed to do.
My daughter and son were in the barn feeding Salina and giving more hay. At one point Keil Bay and the pony ran out into the front field and got under a tree. My son convinced them to come back to the barn. Teens and equines weathered the storm together.
Last night I was in the barn for evening feed. Salina got her Summer Whinnies off for laundering and we put some ointment on her eye when we took her fly mask off for the night. She and the donkeys were staying near the barn for the evening in case more rain came, but I opened the arena gate so they could meander around in there and be close to the back field where the geldings were.
Keil Bay was out scouting the back field but appeared, almost as if by magic, as I checked the water troughs. I stood with him while he had a drink, and then we walked off together, my hand on his wither, connected. A few times since moving here with the horses I have felt like their energy carried me along with them - my feet not needing to move, not really even on the earth. Last night was one of those times. It's like being grounded, but through the horse's body, not my own.
Earlier I'd been grounded by two donkeys as I sat in the barn aisle giving neck scratches and ear scratches and a butt scratch for Redford. The donkeys both have silky smooth areas now and a few scruffy areas that haven't fully shed out yet, and the sensation of winter coat and then silky summer coat on my fingers was wonderful. I had the thought that it would be nice to be able to see each of their deep, all-knowing donkey eyes at once, but with my human eyes, could only gaze one way into Rafer's and then the other into Redford's. Still, I soaked in that donkey calm. It's a potent mixture that anyone with donkeys knows can cure you of almost anything, at least for a time.
I think I've written this here before, but there is sidereal time, there's kairos, and I think there's a good case for yet another kind of time. Barn time. There is nothing else like it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)