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

Strengthening the Arab Voice

It's horse fever, I'm certain.

When you read the title of this post, what did you think?

I was perusing a back issue of my Mount Holyoke Alumnae Quarterly magazine and saw an article with this title.  I flipped directly to page three.  There I found a photograph of a man standing beside a horse in a web halter.

I looked at the horse's face first, naturally, and didn't see the typical Arab characteristics, such as the dish.  The nostrils and eyes didn't look very Arab like and the body seemed larger than most Arabs.

Curious, I proceeded to the text, after all this was an article.  The article was about Mohammed Jiyad, a senior lecturer in Arabic language and literature at MHC, and how he has seen the interest in Arabic studies change over the 25 years he has been at the college.

When he first started teaching, he had about six students in his class.  This past year he had 30.  He talks about the need for Arabic speakers in government, banking and business and mentions students studying overseas.

Mohammed grew up with horses in Iraq and has several Arab horses of his own.   Aside from this brief mention of his horses, no more than those few words, there was no discussion or question about horses in this article.

Here I am thinking the article was about strengthening the interest in Arabian horses somehow by showing a man with a Quarter Horse, when it was about the Arab language and its role in global affairs.

The piece was interesting.  I prefer my interpretation of the title.

Back in the Saddle Again

This robin keeps appearing just across the lawn, perched on the fence between our house and the guest house. His belly is copper red. Just about every time I look over there, he's there. I'd like to think he is a sign of spring, but I'm not so sure he ever left.

It is almost one week ago that I returned to Bend. I wondered what it would be like to come back after being away just about 5 weeks. Would the animals still remember me? Would all my training have gone out the window? Would I still be so enamored by ranch living?

Thankfully, a resounding yes to just about 3 out of 3. Some minor retraining is in order.

The weather has been very agreeable. We haven't had full on sunshine each day, but at least some sun and it's been warm for January. The other day was 56 degrees with bright sun--that feels close to 70 in most other parts. The nights have not dropped down to the 20s or teens, or even much into the 30s. There are trade offs: cloud cover = warmer nights but no star gazing.

We have 3 new horses on the ranch: High Note, a very sweet gentle gray Arabian, Belle, a rather stout dark bay Quarterhorse, and Zak, the fiesty bay, son of Belle. The addition of these 3 has shifted the hierarchy in the dry lot. And in my absence, Lola has taken the lead role. What does this mean? Alibi does not come to the fence to greet me before eating. He has been pushed back in the pack, literally and in the food receiving line. Rest assured, he is just as kind and loving as he was before I left. Now, I have to feed everyone first and then go out to exchange affections with him.

The chickens are still going strong. We are grateful that we got the "cold hardy" breeds. I suppose it wouldn't do the feed stores any good to sell anything but that. It was luck on our part, we didn't know any better at the time. I must reiterate, it is an absolute joy to go collect eggs and have fresh farm eggs for cooking. We bought eggs at the super in Long Beach---hardly appealing.

The other day I checked out the garden and harvested a big sack of carrots! Yes, we still have carrots in the ground. They are in a raised bed, so they have a much better winter survival rate. I shared them with the chickens, the horses and my neighbors and still have a few in the refrigerator. I gave the garden a little water and left one or two more pickings in the ground.

Felon has become accustomed to sleeping in our mudroom at night. Well, she thinks she should be in there all day. I like going to bed knowing she is warm and cozy inside and it gives me a sense of security knowing she's in the house. On occasion, I let Jess come indoors during the day. He is a smelly boy, but it keeps him from tearing up the barn or the seat of the electric cart--ay ay ay.

And Pooker is happy as a lark to be back home. She did really well at our friends' house and she was well cared for. For the first couple of days, she would not leave my shoulder. It was all about reconnection and not letting me out of her sight. I would walk to the bedroom and she'd call out to me the minute she couldn't see me. Yesterday she decided to spend no less than 4 hours in the pantry. No kidding. I went in there, she wanted down, I put her on the shelf with cans and boxes and there she stayed. She just loves to walk on all the textures a pantry has to offer and she likes to "hide" on top of something tall. It puts her close to the next shelf up, making the open space smaller.

I put bird seed out and have seen one bird come in a couple of times. The others will be back. They are around, I hear them. I suppose it will take a few days for them to realize the food has returned.

In a sense I feel like an Italian grandmother: I feed all the hungry mouths and they happily eat up what is served and they love me for it. Don't they say food is the way to one's heart?

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.