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.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Bodie and His Ball
Pinkie and Bodie with the "other" ball.
The dogs have this yellow ball, just about a hair bigger than a baseball. Truthfully, I cannot recall where it came from but it has outlasted all but one other ball, both of which have been run over by a tractor.
Well, the obsession with this yellow ball has arisen again. You may recall my recent cruel joke on Bodie where I lifted it from him without his seeing and then I proceeded to watch him return to the same spot over and over, just certain that is where he left that ball.
He brings me this ball at 7am, at midnight when I'm washing up for bed, after dinner when he believes it is prime ball time. The latest trend is rolling the ball under the sofa and then whining as if it's a life or death matter until I get down on the floor and retrieve the ball. Both Bodie and Pinkie are guilty of this charade. Hmmm, as am I, I suppose.
When I tell you that the ball must have a tracking device implanted, I do not jest. Bodie can leave that ball in a particular place, which is no place in particular, and he will go about the business of a dog day or a night of sweet doggie dreams and when it's time to play ball, he knows just where he left that oversized rubber lemon.
Today, for example, he continues to impress me. I saw him with the ball around 8am when he took it outside with him for his morning piddle. In he came to eat and then we went out to feed the other animals. We had a full morning of chores, played fetch with the rubber frisbee (in a safe place of its own, I'm sure.) I did an hour's worth of work at the computer. We ran errands, came back for an evening walk and then completed our evening chores. After dark, Bodie, Pinkie and I came in the house, they ate, I ate. And then it happened.
Around 8pm, Bodie started whining. It's a very definitive whine, one that clearly suggests he is going to die if he doesn't get his fix. But this time, he was not at the sofa. For a moment, I thought I misread his whine; it seemed as if he needed to go out to go pee-pee.
"Arf!" he said in his high-pitched drama queen tone. So I opened the slider and out he went. He didn't go to the lawn to tinkle, no, he went to the opposite corner of the deck and picked up that rascal of a ball!
Now, amongst our activities for the day, was a dog fight in the back of the car as I was driving on the Parkway. We had stopped at the feed store and picked up a chewy for each of them and there appeared to be a serious dispute over who was getting what. I actually had to pull over on the side of the road, screaming at the top of my lungs as I saw bodies gyrating and the dog barrier shifting from its fastened place against the roof. They stopped. I scolded. They sulked. They took their corners in the back and didn't make a peep for the rest of the ride home.
I share this because they are giving each other space this evening. Still a little mad at each other, blaming the other, yet fighting their instinct to love each other. Bodie is not over it yet.
He didn't bring that ball in the house. He sat out on the deck, a place Pinkie only goes if I go, with his ball between his front Panda paws. When he came back in, an hour or so later, I looked...he had put the ball back in the same place on the deck where he picked it up earlier, out of Pinkie's path to the lawn in the morning.
And tomorrow morning, I assure you, just as those Cascade Mountains are going to shine under the eastern rising sun, he will yelp for me to open that door and he will aim straight for that ball.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Thrive on the Vibe Thursday
As I was rinsing away the evidence of a good night sleep, I looked out my bathroom window, as I do every morning, to see who else was stirring. In between the trees by the canal, I caught the white tail end of a mule deer crossing through properties. Then another, and another.
This is their path in the mornings; I see them often.
Shortly after, I was out feeding and I heard a sound. It wasn't a crack of a branch or a bang of sorts. Really, I cannot recall very well or describe very well what it was. But I looked up. And there he was, a medium sized buck with only one antler looking straight at me. I'm not convinced he didn't call me. Just as I know their travel through here, he must know who I am.
Instead of standing frozen still as deer often do, or jumping off in flight, he moved his head in acknowledgement as I greeted him "Good morning, angel!" There was very much an interaction between us. I loved it!
After we were certain we understood each other, he put his head down and casually started off over the rocks of the canal. I called out after him, "Thank you!"
The sun is now setting and I'm still thriving on that vibe.
This is their path in the mornings; I see them often.
Shortly after, I was out feeding and I heard a sound. It wasn't a crack of a branch or a bang of sorts. Really, I cannot recall very well or describe very well what it was. But I looked up. And there he was, a medium sized buck with only one antler looking straight at me. I'm not convinced he didn't call me. Just as I know their travel through here, he must know who I am.
Instead of standing frozen still as deer often do, or jumping off in flight, he moved his head in acknowledgement as I greeted him "Good morning, angel!" There was very much an interaction between us. I loved it!
After we were certain we understood each other, he put his head down and casually started off over the rocks of the canal. I called out after him, "Thank you!"
The sun is now setting and I'm still thriving on that vibe.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Reiki
Sharing your energy to give someone Reiki is just as enjoyable as receiving it. Maybe, maybe, even a bit more.
My table is set up in my room. I have yet to name my room. It is my yoga room. My meditation spot. My space to read tarot. My haven to give Reiki. The view is to the east and it is so energizing. So energizing that big energy shifts occur in my room. For me and others.
I have my ritual of setting up my table as well as taking it down when not in use. Many of you know, I use sage and incense probably more than deodorant. Well, maybe you didn't know exactly how much. But I know you know how good and earthy it can smell in my house. It gives me peace.
Next on my list is a furniture adjustment. That will create the flow I know exists but at the moment has to find the alternative route.
My angels are with me. They reassure me.
What goes around comes around. This time when you repeat that phrase, embrace the power of the positive effect rather than using it when someone does something to hurt you.
Send it out. Send it strong. Send it sincere. Send it with love.
And all will be yours.
My table is set up in my room. I have yet to name my room. It is my yoga room. My meditation spot. My space to read tarot. My haven to give Reiki. The view is to the east and it is so energizing. So energizing that big energy shifts occur in my room. For me and others.
I have my ritual of setting up my table as well as taking it down when not in use. Many of you know, I use sage and incense probably more than deodorant. Well, maybe you didn't know exactly how much. But I know you know how good and earthy it can smell in my house. It gives me peace.
Next on my list is a furniture adjustment. That will create the flow I know exists but at the moment has to find the alternative route.
My angels are with me. They reassure me.
What goes around comes around. This time when you repeat that phrase, embrace the power of the positive effect rather than using it when someone does something to hurt you.
Send it out. Send it strong. Send it sincere. Send it with love.
And all will be yours.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
1:11
When I pulled out of Maverick's parking lot this evening, or this morning, it was 1:11am. I thought, "Oh Noelle, pay attention to those numbers!" Something is amiss.
It was a first, I believe, for me to leave at such an hour. My feet are actually sore and feeling well spent.
The drive home was mine. Only 3 other cars on the road between the tired dance floor and the return to my animals. The sky was radiant with moonshine and the clouds were remnants of a recent rain shower. In between the billowy sky characters, the stars and planets were peeking out. To really make the moment clutch, I was listening to a little Cheryl Lynn, Got to Be Real, on my 70s on 7, courtesy of Sirius XM.
After getting inside and being greeted by the dogs who have no sense of time, something told me to step onto the deck and just listen. Maybe Scout, my reliable Great Horned Owl, would be around. Now, the clouds were really thinning out, much like a celestial archipelago. The air refreshed by the light rainfall. The earth had softened under the sunny agreeable days of late, and it is such a rich, fertile smell, one of sprouting life not far off.
And then, hmmmmm? What is that most unusual sound? It sounds like it's coming from the goat pen. With my super sized mag light I looked out and I could the reflector patch on Alibi's rain sheet, in the goat pen. I just had that feeling that my evening was not going to be considered complete without additional horse and goat love.
So, at 1:30am with a change of clothes and rubber boots to navigate the mud, I head out to assess the tomfoolery of my hoofed ones. They really did it! I cannot begin to imagine how or who but the panel attached to the tin sided goat shed was pulled away, straps broken, and completely perpendicular to the perimeter fence. When things are secure, the panels meet at a V and create a haven for my goodles. It was the most preposterous arrangement. And so, enter the horses, or shall I say King Alibi, to shoo away the cashmered ones in order to eat their hay.
On my way out to the dry lot, I passed my little sleepy goodles giving me a drowsy "ma'aaaa" from inside the horse shelter. The big bad boys had chased the little bad boys from their pen and they were telling me of the injustice.
Fortunately, that 1:11 was telling me I've got time but don't dawdle. From the amount of the remaining hay in the feed bag, it could be reasoned that their seizure of the otherwise cordoned goat domain was recent. Whew! A greedy consumption of herbage by one dominant equine averted.
Thinking about the clock, I took advantage of being out there and spread some green love for my Arab princes. I am hopeful I can take advantage of a little extra shut-eye on a weekend morning as well.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
It was a first, I believe, for me to leave at such an hour. My feet are actually sore and feeling well spent.
The drive home was mine. Only 3 other cars on the road between the tired dance floor and the return to my animals. The sky was radiant with moonshine and the clouds were remnants of a recent rain shower. In between the billowy sky characters, the stars and planets were peeking out. To really make the moment clutch, I was listening to a little Cheryl Lynn, Got to Be Real, on my 70s on 7, courtesy of Sirius XM.
After getting inside and being greeted by the dogs who have no sense of time, something told me to step onto the deck and just listen. Maybe Scout, my reliable Great Horned Owl, would be around. Now, the clouds were really thinning out, much like a celestial archipelago. The air refreshed by the light rainfall. The earth had softened under the sunny agreeable days of late, and it is such a rich, fertile smell, one of sprouting life not far off.
And then, hmmmmm? What is that most unusual sound? It sounds like it's coming from the goat pen. With my super sized mag light I looked out and I could the reflector patch on Alibi's rain sheet, in the goat pen. I just had that feeling that my evening was not going to be considered complete without additional horse and goat love.
So, at 1:30am with a change of clothes and rubber boots to navigate the mud, I head out to assess the tomfoolery of my hoofed ones. They really did it! I cannot begin to imagine how or who but the panel attached to the tin sided goat shed was pulled away, straps broken, and completely perpendicular to the perimeter fence. When things are secure, the panels meet at a V and create a haven for my goodles. It was the most preposterous arrangement. And so, enter the horses, or shall I say King Alibi, to shoo away the cashmered ones in order to eat their hay.
On my way out to the dry lot, I passed my little sleepy goodles giving me a drowsy "ma'aaaa" from inside the horse shelter. The big bad boys had chased the little bad boys from their pen and they were telling me of the injustice.
Fortunately, that 1:11 was telling me I've got time but don't dawdle. From the amount of the remaining hay in the feed bag, it could be reasoned that their seizure of the otherwise cordoned goat domain was recent. Whew! A greedy consumption of herbage by one dominant equine averted.
Thinking about the clock, I took advantage of being out there and spread some green love for my Arab princes. I am hopeful I can take advantage of a little extra shut-eye on a weekend morning as well.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
A Wednesday Read
"Be content with what you have,
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you."
~~~Lao Tzu
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Silly Hen
It's a bit after 11pm and the poodles and I just got back in from a late evening feed and then a 15 minute forensic search for one of my hens.
I went down late to lock them in and only counted 11. One of my black and white Barred Rock hens, either Alice or Baby, was missing. It's never a good feeling.
My headlamp wasn't strong enough to do a thorough search on a winter's night of the new moon. The stars are magnificent but still not enough wattage for a hen search. So, back to the house to get my mag light and back down to continue looking.
Oh, the temperature is about 9 degrees. I wasn't so cold but I was concerned that if I couldn't find her that my hen was in a safe place where she alone could keep herself warm. They have quite a suit of downy feathers these days, but at night they nuggle together on their roosting bar. I'm not sure if it's for warmth or safety.
Going through my list of previous experiences with missing hens, I felt optimistic that she had not been snatched by a predator but for some reason did not return the hen house when everyone else did. This is when I wish my dogs were trained to flush out a bird. There is a lot of sage bush around and plenty of trees where she could hide.
After coming around for the second time, I started to look up. Maybe instead of digging in to the dirt as they do during the day, she went up to roost. Whew! Big sigh. There she was perched on a branch of their favorite Juniper tree. It's so big and full with very low hanging branches and plenty of loose dirt around the bottom that there is where they spend a lot of their time.
Thankfully I could push through the branches enough to pick up my hen and bring her back home. Red the rooster had much to say about her clucklings; perhaps a welcoming back home, perhaps a disciplinary comment. It was a satisfying feeling to close up that door knowing all 12 of my chickens are safe and sound and settling down for a long winter's nap.
I went down late to lock them in and only counted 11. One of my black and white Barred Rock hens, either Alice or Baby, was missing. It's never a good feeling.
My headlamp wasn't strong enough to do a thorough search on a winter's night of the new moon. The stars are magnificent but still not enough wattage for a hen search. So, back to the house to get my mag light and back down to continue looking.
Oh, the temperature is about 9 degrees. I wasn't so cold but I was concerned that if I couldn't find her that my hen was in a safe place where she alone could keep herself warm. They have quite a suit of downy feathers these days, but at night they nuggle together on their roosting bar. I'm not sure if it's for warmth or safety.
Going through my list of previous experiences with missing hens, I felt optimistic that she had not been snatched by a predator but for some reason did not return the hen house when everyone else did. This is when I wish my dogs were trained to flush out a bird. There is a lot of sage bush around and plenty of trees where she could hide.
After coming around for the second time, I started to look up. Maybe instead of digging in to the dirt as they do during the day, she went up to roost. Whew! Big sigh. There she was perched on a branch of their favorite Juniper tree. It's so big and full with very low hanging branches and plenty of loose dirt around the bottom that there is where they spend a lot of their time.
Thankfully I could push through the branches enough to pick up my hen and bring her back home. Red the rooster had much to say about her clucklings; perhaps a welcoming back home, perhaps a disciplinary comment. It was a satisfying feeling to close up that door knowing all 12 of my chickens are safe and sound and settling down for a long winter's nap.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
