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

How Sweet It Is

It is exactly three weeks ago today that the poodles, Pooker, and I moved to the new house. And today, exactly three weeks later, the other feathers and furs joined us. They moved in like they have been waiting to arrive, waiting to demonstrate their new routines. And they got right to it.

At some point I'll be able to articulate what I am feeling in this moment. For now, I'll use words like relief, contentment, satisfaction, pride, exhaustion, hopeful, encouraged, grateful, humbled, determined, protective, accomplished.

Today, it's mostly about the word gratitude. Heaps and buckets, rivers and pools, an endless supply.

Moving the ranch is not easy. Moving while renovating is not easy. Moving while leaving half your family behind is definitely not easy. Without my friends, well, let's just say I was fortunate enough to not know what that would mean.

I thank you, my friends and family, for your support, your time, your encouragement, your talent, your car, your trailer, your truck, your generosity, your caring, your strength, your humor, your effort, your thoughtfulness, your food, YOU.

I love you all. You all have your own spot in my heart. And while my animals are not sure who some of you are yet, I know they too send you love because they know who and what is important to me, that is for sure.

So, as I sit here worn out from the day's physical activity and emotional experience, I am freshly showered and comfortable on my sofa. The night air is cooling. I can hear the night bugs, I can hear my pups breathing in deep sleep. And I can hear my boys outside my window moving around, Shadow calling up to me on occasion, and I can reassure him quite easily no matter where I am in the house.

This is how sweet it is.

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.

My Bags Are Packed and I'm Ready to Go

There must be a "How to Pack Efficiently and Pause Free" manual somewhere.  Aside from the physical breaks one must take from packing to move, there are the occasional stops along Memory Lane which can bring the momentum to a screeching stop and smell the roses halt.

Packing up the colored ceramic dishware my mom painted for me reminded me of the day I opened the UPS box she sent.  Not only did it have the dishware but it had colored place mats and colored tapers with square holders.  What a thoughtful gift!  She knew I like to make a pretty table at meal time and there she sent me another excuse for preparing good food.

I came across a card written in elegant penmanship from my much missed godmother, Aunt Dolly, who passed on this last December.  For as long as I can recall receiving mail, she had been sending me a birthday and Christmas card every year.  Something was missing in December.

Oh! and the photo of me holding a carrot with the utmost tips of my fingers for a horse to eat.  Gingerbread Man became my good friend and trusted teacher who welcomed me into the horse world.  What a bond we shared.

My poor backgammon board.  It has been tucked away, lonely, at one point a reminder of lamentable sportsmanship.  I always loved playing board games.  Naturally, I would play to win and I play by the rules and I insist on being the banker in Monopoly, but having fun was always the priority.  I prefer playing tennis with someone better than I so I can play hard and work for a win.  If I didn't win, which in all these years of game playing, there were many times, I laughed, congratulated the winner and either set up for a rematch or moved on to whatever I was doing next.  I saw no point in any resentment or anger or frustration with losing.  It was a game!

In the early months of our dating, I would hear the stories of the backgammon marathons at the hospital.  They played at such an expert level because their minds thought this way.  I enthusiastically initiated a game because it had been a while since I had played, but when my much beloved backgammon board was opened, I felt the foreboding of a helpless loss.  The problem was, I didn't lose.  In fact, the game never was finished because the spike in heart rate that my advantage brought about, also brought about a slamming shut of the board with pieces flying all over.  What a shock!

My game companion was only opened another time or two and the experience was so opposite of the fun I brought to the table that it seemed disrespectful to my board to unclip the buckles again.  So there it stayed, in a closet, move after move.

But this move is different.  My backgammon board will hide no more!  And I welcome anyone to a fine roll of the dice.

Sunday Accomplishments

While repairing the perimeter fencing was high on the priority list, I'm not sure it was on my list for this day.  Like most days around the ranch, what is on the list of things to do often gets replaced by what the ranch decides needs to be done.

That very generous snow storm we had a couple of weeks ago really did me in.  Not only did I have to turn off my perimeter electric fence as the "hot" lines were buried in snow, I couldn't do anything about poop scooping with that much snow.  Once the snow melted off, the rains came and the dry lot was a mud bog so scooping any poop was impossible because it would be more like scooping mud and besides, I couldn't pull the cart through the boot sucking quicksand!

As things have been drying out, I've started to catch up on 3 weeks of neglected poop management.  For the past week, I've been keeping up with the daily output and grabbing up a bit more.  Having the dry lot fully cleaned out again will take some more work.

Today, Bodie went chasing something out the back of the property, which is an odd place for anyone or anything to be, except the deer.  When I went back to look, I noticed entire sections of the top line of my perimeter fence were down.  This immediately interrupted my attempt at cleaning the dry lot.  So, I took Shadow with me, gathered up a bunch of yellow baling twine strands and out we went.  Shadow browsed as I tied twines together and started replacing the fence.

The top line is what the deer take down so I have already replaced a few sections with baling twine and have discovered its benefits: 1) super cheap because I already have it on hand; 2) recycling material; and 3) for the most part, the deer don't rip it.  Rather than just replace the sections that had come down, I went around and replaced it all, converting the string to twine.  It was a good time to check the electric lines of the fencing, clearing away any debris.

The hot lines had a few spots that needed to be adjusted.  The snow had pulled on the lines, causing a couple to cross one another or touch the ground, thus causing unsteady current around the property.  I set out to adjusting the lines, turning the fence back on, and walking around testing the lines.  The goat pen is now hot again, for which I am grateful, you never know with those two.  I found one spot that needs a different connection but that is for another day.  At least 98% of my fence is hot again.

I went back to the dry lot and got one entire section of accumulated poop cleaned out.  I dragged the water trough out and scrubbed that down for a clean refill.  In between projects, I was switching out laundry.  In one trip to the house, I managed to clean the guest bath shower.  It had been driving me nuts.  The guest bathroom had become my horse blanket dripping and drying station during those wet weeks of weather.  The bath itself was a muddy mess and the floor had its share.  Done.

One of my neighbors rode by on her bike and we managed to squeeze in an enjoyable five minute conversation.  Earlier, another neighbor texted me that she wanted my coffee order and she came and delivered me a decaf latte!  And all animals have been completely kissed, loved and given fruits and vegetables in addition to their breakfast.

There is still much to be done.  I have to head out soon to teach a private lesson so that will break my stride, but I am quite satisfied with today's accomplishments.

Holy Coldiculous!

That's right, there's a new adjective in town and I'm registering it: coldiculous.

It's the word that describes perfectly the frigid night air that is so crystal clear it could slice the tip of your nose, the kind of temperature in which your eyes go on overtime to keep them watered to prevent them from freezing up in their sockets, that wicked little chill that turns your digits into icicles even when wearing thermal lined gloves.

This happened fast.  Just last evening it was delightfully pleasant out there.  Is this what they call a snap?

The thermometer on my porch read 20 degrees.  Aside from the horse water which is heated, all other water buckets are already frozen, and I don't mean just a layer of thin ice, I mean break the ice and bring them all into the garage to thaw out so I can refill them in the morning.  It's so cold already at 8:30pm that scooping horse poop was more like scooping poop cubes, scraping across what felt like concrete rather than loose dirt.

The time has come to pull out the official cold weather wear.  Liners under jeans are laughed at by that below 32 wizard.  It's time to get serious and face these coldiculous nights like a true super shero.

A flight to Hawaii anyone?

The Sweetest Kiss

My right arm over Hy Note's back, my left arm cradling his chest, I am resting my head on his withers.

  

As he chews hay out of the feed cart, I gaze up.  

The night is perfectly adorned with magnificent stars dancing around the waxing moon.  

Quiet. Pure. Precious.  

Holding him tight, dreaming I disappear into his nobility.

I inhale deeply, the corners of my mouth turned up, 

so glad that I know the earthy candy-like smell of a horse.  

Holding him tighter to move with his breath, I close my eyes.

This is my sweetest kiss goodnight.

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.