Animal Speak

It's a Saturday morning in May and when I went to bed last night, very late, I told myself I would sleep in a bit. This past week, I have been going to bed much too late as just about every evening I've been binging on astrology charts and reminding myself of all the glyphs involved. When a Sagittarius dives into the next topic of interest, it is all consuming.

As it goes in life with animals, your plans are mere pipe dreams.

So it was at some time shortly before 7:00 a.m. that something woke me up and got me out of bed to look out my window. And there he was, Alibi, standing still but whipping and winding his neck around the way he does when he's got something to say.

A couple of weeks ago, just as I was heading to bed a little earlier than usual and feeling proud of that, I feel him trotting back and forth across the paddock. Then I hear his high pitched and forceful nostril snort. Something is not right out there and Alibi wants everyone to know.

I went out onto the deck, the goodles were standing back and watching Alibi for any signal telling them what to do next. I turned on all the outside lights while I hurried back in to put on jeans, grab my mag light, headlamp, gloves because you never know, sturdy shoes ready for whatever. Out with me go the dogs. In the event it's a cougar or coyote, or wandering human, I hope their barking will disrupt the intruder's thinking.

Alibi comes up to me but not taking his eyes off behind him. He's making sure I'm fully aware that he is not comfortable. With his energetic tether, he leads me to the corner of the paddock and directs me to look across the road to the treed landscape. Like any momma protecting her herd, I put a gentle hand on him recognizing his skin is tense and twitching, but just enough so he can feel that I have things under control now and he can let down a bit. He knows this.

With fresh batteries in my headlamp, I head out through the gate onto the road shining my mag light through the bushes and up into the trees, back and forth, looking for any reflective eyes looking back at me. I check back with Alibi to see where his gaze is focused and explore further.

In the end, I find nothing and I head back through the gate not knowing what caused his alarm. He came back over to me and over came the goats. The four of us stood together in the quiet night, letting go of any fear. When I could feel their tension slip away and I could hear Alibi's breath soften, I knew I could start contemplating bedtime again.

Getting back to this morning, unlike the other night, Alibi was not snorting. There was no audible sound from him but he most certainly called me. As I noted his neck wringing, with really really tired eyes I started to take in the scene. He had managed to get his hind leg caught in the electric net fencing around the pear trees.

For my convenience only, I do not have the fence energized. For the most part, they all assume it's always hot...until they don't.

Here we go again, dress up, head out. The goodles are once again standing back and side by side, not in fear this time but in concern. They understand that getting closer to him may stress him out.

Alibi knows me so well he knows I'm there to solve his every problem. He recognizes his hind leg is caught. If you know anything about an animal, you know that anything around their legs generally sets them to panic, particularly animals considered prey. Their legs are their escape. But rather than panic and try to pull out of the fence, which really would be typical of many other horses, he was standing still trusting I would hear his call.

As I approach, not speaking a word, he poops. Ha! Finally he can relax. He cooperates and lifts his hind leg for me so I can untangle the fence and kiss him with reassurance that he is safe to move. Once again, the goodles come over now that everything is clear, and the morning carries on like any other day.

The thinking goes that I might as well scoop poop, let the girls out, and put out some hay while I'm out there.

Tomorrow. Maybe I'll sleep in tomorrow.

If you want to hear what a horse snort sounds like to alert others to danger, this is a good example:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtxecUYUH8A

Alibi freezing mid-bite to key in on a deer friend across the road

Fierce Protectors

This has come up before and again in the past couple of weeks, and that is how protective my animals are of me.  It isn't until someone else points it out that I am aware of it.  I don't think of them as protecting me, but only of how protecting them is my mission, part of my commitment to them.

When I stop and think of it though, we are a family and very bonded to one another, regardless of species.  Thinking about my own human biological family, we are fiercely protective of each other if someone else criticizes one of us or makes life difficult for one of us. It only stands to reason that my pack family would be the same.

Aside from the poodles, all of the animals are prey species, meaning, they are not predatory. But each of them has at one time or another come to my defense. I can recall very specific stories. And it isn't that I've been threatened all of those times, but it is what they have perceived. Sometimes, it has been one defending me from another, mainly Pippin.

I know that can be humorous but there have been a couple of instances where I have needed help because he turned on me without warning.  It has been a long time since I've needed to call on Shadow to help me. All I would do was call out, "Shadow!" with a very certain sound in my voice, and that angel of mine would come running from wherever he was. Pippin would back off immediately and proceed to be broadsided by all of Shadow's might if he didn't move quickly enough.  And then Shadow would stand tall beside me until I let him know I was safe. (And then I would proceed to comfort Pippin after being charged by his big brother.)

There are other stories like this that I can recall, when there was no denying one of them was looking after me. It makes me think how proud and fulfilled they must feel because when I care for them, when I command Shadow off of Pippin, or catch Alibi wanting to nip at Shadow's little behind, I know how strong I feel.

It is an honor to protect another. I think we all wear that badge of love with pride.

Animal Communication

Today I had lunch with my friend, April, and as usual our conversation covered a multitude of topics over the course of a couple of hours. One of them was about animal communicators and animal communication, and horses. We talked about just how sensitive horses are, and how intuitive they are.  They know what's on your mind before you get down off the porch.  I was telling her just how trippy Alibi is and how I can ask him to do something and he does it.  I mean, verbally ask, not through body language related to conditioning.

When I got back home, I went out to enjoy my animals and noticed Hy Note's eye area and right side of his face looked discolored.  They roll in the dirt and sometimes he's just dusty, but this was different.  I moved his thick forelock out of the way and saw a little blood in his tear duct and then upon a complete body check, I noticed his cannon had blood from where he must have been rubbing his eye.  Looking again, I saw a very small cut on the lower eyelid.  Another half a millimeter and it would have been his eyeball--it was that close.

Naturally, I asked Hy Note what the heck he did.  What poked him in the eye? For a while it was just late afternoon horse scratching and loving time, so end of discussion there.  I realized it wasn't serious; I would get a warm cloth and wipe his eye and wash his face and soothe him a bit.

When I came out with the feed cart a little later, instead of standing over the bucket he has declared to be his, Hy Note walked away and over to one of the feed bags hanging on the fence.  It hadn't yet been filled, so this was significant.  He stood directly in front of the bag and then looked over at me to be sure I was paying attention.  I acknowledged that I saw him and that I would come look, so he left the empty bag and came to meet me at the feed cart and resumed his usual routine.

When I went over to the feed bag with the suspicion that whatever cut his eye was there, sure enough I found a long strand of chicken wire that had snapped off the netting and was sticking straight out right beside the feed bag.  Knowing how the horses eat from the bags, I was certain this was the culprit.

I have a gal coming for a few hours each week to help me with chores and we started moving the chicken wire that runs along the bottom of the field fencing to the outside of the fence.  The goats put their horns in it and pull, Faramir puts his hoof in it and pulls, it does no good on the inside of the fence and just gives me a constant maintenance project. Yesterday, we got as far as the section just before the feed bags.

One thing you learn when you have horses: if there is anything at all that can remotely possibly cut, hurt, or trip a horse, they will find it.

The other thing you learn is: if you pay attention and listen, a horse will tell you everything you need to know.

How I Love Thee

Where does one begin to count the ways?  I simply adore my friend, Alibi.  I love him from the deepest recesses of my heart.  Why?  What is it about an animal that would make me feel this way?  His soul is so pure and his intentions so honest, to break it down into human constructed numbers would belittle his magnitude.

Tonight, Alibi's favorite farrier, Randy, was here to clean up his hooves.  While Randy trimmed, picked and finished up with the rasp, I brushed out Alibi's wind knotted mane.  The three of us have great conversations every eight weeks.  Alibi always turns around and gives Randy's hat a tug or nudges his back in the gentlest of ways just to let him know he appreciates the care with which Randy works.  And then Alibi and I cuddle, stare into each other's eyes, breathe into each other's noses.  It's such a harmonious and calm half hour.

It was dark by the time Randy got here this evening so we worked under the light at the barn.  Alibi was alert to the night movements out yonder, Faramir and Hy Note were at the fence, not only keeping us company but prepared to take any cue from their alpha. The goodles were bedded down chewing their cud not far from the herd, the hens closed in for the night and the dogs in their kennel until I'd have time to pick up the hoof trimmings.  Quiet.  Peaceful. Safe.

As Alibi and I were heading back to the paddock, we stopped so I could hear what Randy was saying and Alibi could stare off into what seemed like the black abyss to me.  I said to Alibi, "how about a thank you to Randy?"  Around he bends his neck, deep eyes wide open, nostrils large and relaxed, and he's looking at Randy who is packing his truck, not for second taking his eyes off of him.  I said, "Randy, Alibi says thank you."  Randy turned around, saw and felt the gratitude being extended to him and came right back over to give his thanks as well.  Then went back to the truck to get a cookie.

For another moment we shared a few things about Alibi that we mutually admire and respect.  It doesn't take confirmation from someone else to let me know how special this horse is, but when it comes from someone who can recognize and appreciate the most subtle of unique qualities, I am again honored and humbled to have this precious being in my life every day.

New Rules #107

If you're going to take a horse off the property for a walk, you must be sure to lock the goodles in the dry lot before setting out.

It was Faramir's turn for a good walk around the neighborhood.  The goats were out tearing through my nicely stacked hay bales, the dogs have learned to sit by the corner of the fence until they see us coming back up the rise, the hens were scratching in the softening earth.

As we head out on my road, the dogs run along the fence to the furthest corner they can and then sit and wait for our return.

Faramir and I got about 1/4 mile out on our walk when it dawned on me that when the dogs run, the goats run.  And what's in that furthest corner where the poodles wait?  The hen house.

"Argh! Come on Faramir!" I blurted as we did an about face and attempted a respectful jog back home.  As we came up the rise in sight of the hen house, I called out and I could see Pippin outside the hen house, which only meant Shadow was inside.  Goats are definitely not supposed to eat grain and once they get a taste it's good luck momma trying to get a 180lb horned goat to give it up.

We made it back, heart in my throat, Faramir wondering what that fuss was about, got the gate unchained, convinced Pinkie not to nip at the horse, chained the gate again and breathlessly stumbled our way to the hen house.  As predictable goat behavior would have it, I made a really scary sound and Shadow came bolting out eyes wide open looking for that big monster.  I lunged forward and quickly closed and latched the door. "Whew." I let my breath catch up and turned for Faramir who had walked off to take in his own moment of exploration.

All was well.  All secured.  Faramir was a bit disappointed that he didn't get to meet the neighbors I had told him about but Alibi sure was glad we were back early enough for him to get out for a walk.

I followed my new rule and delighted in an easy pace until the sun set with my horse.

A Fire Sign

The sign posts all around me have been pointing to infinite potential, endless possibilities, getting acquainted with the heart mind.

Having come through the other side of a major life transition, my eyes are open and my ears are perked.  Where does my path want to lead me?  What does that next stone under my well-danced feet feel like? I am wildly curious and tickled pink.

Lately, I have taken note of just how much I gaze up into the sky.  It is fascinating.  It is inspiring.  It is magical and mystical.  I used to dream of rainbows and shooting stars.  My dreams have come true.

The Full Cold Moon energy of this month has my body tingling.  I wake up in the wee hours and go look outside.  With the snow and the moonlight, everything is glowing, the hour uncertain.  Last night the sky cleared.  This morning at sunrise, I walked to the west door and greeted the day with a sleepy grin.

Invigorated by the crisp winter air, I spent a good part of the day outdoors.  Alibi and I took a walk to the mailbox at the end of the road to pick up a package I have been expecting.  It was just us on the road.  My boots crunching in the cold snow and his hooves steadily keeping pace.  Our hearts are in rhythm.

When I finally came in, the moon was just rising in the east.  I completely relish being able to see both the east and the west from my windows.    As the December moon rose up over the pasture in front, I put my tarot cards and their pretty purple brocade box on the sill to be cleansed by the full moon energy.

The poodles and I needed to get to the feed store before it closed.  I am breaking down and buying a heater for the water trough.  Although I revel in the increasing daylight hours, I cannot be fooled by the calendar.  It tells me I may be breaking ice in the water for quite some time to come.

Before taking another step toward departing, I knew I had to look to the west.  The Cascades always perform.  The three Sisters were crystal clear, snow covered and basking in the setting sun.

As we were driving home from Big R, I stole a glance up toward the clear winter night sky and there it was!  A shooting star.  It was as if it came from behind my reliable winter transport, over my head, hooked on to my front grill and coaxed us forward chasing its fiery tail.  It said, "this way."

Look.  Look up.  Look forward.  Look inward.  There lies your path.

Tripper's Day

Tripper and Dad

Tripper is in spirit and he is 23 years old today, May 15.  We all celebrated him today, even the few who didn't know him on this earth.

He was a noble horse, so stoic, proud, full of horsepower and full of incredible love.  Tripper was my first horse.  He taught me to love in a fuller, richer and more open way.

I have said many times before and I most certainly will say it again, he was my friend.

My Friend (and Jess the dog)

When I brought Shadow home, his eyes looked up at me and they were alive with old souls.  I could feel them and I could see them in his eyes.

On occasion when Shadow and I are walking, he will come beside me and put his nose in my hand, just as Tripper used to do. Aside from the 1,000 pound difference between them, I sense Tripper.  Tripper is so present and Shadow is the generous host.

Tripper and Alibi

Alibi and Tripper were good friends.  When Alibi became my horse, I moved him and Tripper to the same pasture.  It was anybody's guess who would be the dominant horse.  Tripper gave Alibi a good run for his money and hung in as the alpha as long as he could.  Eventually Alibi moved in, as he does.  But there always remained respect.  Today, Alibi sighed a birthday wish to Tripper.

In my bedside table drawer is a braided heart of Tripper's tail hair.  It's beautiful and lasting.  Fitting for my friend.

Meet Alibi

Alibi. He is a special horse. An Arabian, CMK, and looks just like the horse you find in your coloring books or a cartoon or a Hasbro play horse. Really.

I was introduced to Alibi last January as a remarkable endurance race horse: one who wins all of his races. Intense 100 mile races, in all conditions, dangerous courses, rider on board, and he wins every time. Everyone at the races knows Alibi. Impressive.

To catch Alibi to get him ready for a race generally required 2 people to corner him and halter him using snacks, ropes, whatever it took. Alibi did not come to the halter and definitely not to the person holding it. "Uncatchable."

Well, Alibi has recently retired from racing due to an injury. He is back on our ranch after spending a couple of months with the neighbors in hopes of rehabilitating him. He came back with just as much intensity, power and determination. Always ready to GO!

For the past 3 months, I have been working with Alibi with the intention of re-languaging people, approach and touch, and in particular people with halters.

It started very slowly. Just standing beside him, not too close or he'd scoot away. The days progressed with touching while he ate to then touching his nose. Our encounters eventually evolved to him coming to me before I feed the horses. He approaches me. He initiates contact. I of course, reciprocate, lavishly so. Kisses and all.

Then we moved to my putting my arm over his neck, the start of putting on a halter. At first he pulled back a bit and then he settled in realizing there was nothing but a hug attached. So we did this for weeks: 15 seconds, 30 seconds, 45 seconds, even a minute of just holding him and him allowing me to do so.

I cannot put into words how significant this was. Not just because Alibi hasn't been known to do such things, except when in a halter, but that he came to me and allowed me to handle him in a very vulnerable way. I have gone to sleep at night with the biggest smile on my face, still smelling him on my cheek.

So, the day came when we both knew he was ready to put his head in the halter. A few weeks ago he actually put his nose in and out of the halter and I just let him play, without buckling it. But this day, it was different.

He came to me, and I had the halter in my hand, and he just looked at me with a definitive message that I was ready to receive. I said, "Alibi, I had a dream that you were in the halter. I think today is the day." There was acknowledgement in his eyes, he extended his neck toward me, twisted his head sideways as he does and breathed a relaxing sigh. I told him, "It's all okay. You will be safe." Alibi lowered his head, I put my arm over his neck, waited for him to slip his nose into the halter and I attached the buckle.

Wow. Tears in my eyes. An ear to ear smile on my face. And more of "good boy!" than one can say in a reasonable amount of time.

We walked around the dry lot where he calls home. Just a comfortable walk. We walked up to the high spot, looked down at the other horses who I just know where equally in awe, we enjoyed the view of the pastures, the blue sky, the mountains. We took it all in, together, trusting each other with our hearts.

We walked back to our departure point and I slowly unbuckled the halter and slipped it off his muzzle. I expected him to turn around and bolt--he didn't. Instead, he nuggled me, and then lowered his head again. Twice? Not only once in one day, but twice! This was such a blow me away moment that we had to call friends to tell them we'd be late to pick them up. There was no way I was passing up this date.

Since then, Alibi has come to me and played with the halter. We move in baby steps. And yesterday, I asked him if he was ready to do this again. And he was. This time we went up to the barn, had some grooming time, treats, and put a blanket on him. He hasn't been out of the dry lot since September. Imagine the excitement for both of us! And what a special time that was. Oh how we ga-ga'd over each other with praise and thanks and confident satisfaction.

One thing everyone who knows Alibi says is, "he's a trippy horse" or something else along those lines. "He's smart." "He anticipates your every move." "He knows what you're thinking before you even get to him." And I'll add, "He talks directly to you with his eyes, head and energy." He is no ordinary horse (as if there is one of those.)

I know what we started is just starting, but I am so excited about what has transpired. What happens tomorrow? Who knows. I know what happened this week.

My soul has been touched in an unfamiliar way. And I am giving thanks for that special gift that Alibi gave to me.