Freedom!

Well, mostly. I took Maverick out for his daily trip to the yard for grass tonight and he was "playful" to put it nicely. Walking along right beside me I could see him start to duck his head, but too late, he was up in the air kicking out his back feet with a squeal and a fart. He landed and looked at me as if to say "Sorry, just couldn't help it." Then we continued out to the yard for our grass. He's been coming along really well and will walk up to us now and let us put our hands on his halter without jumping back or stepping away. I was planning on letting him out in the pasture with Junior this weekend, but that jump and kick made me decide that earlier is probably better. So I ended up pissing off two horses today and making three more VERY happy. The girls went into the back pasture which has a good bit of grass coming up and Maverick got to run around with Junior tonight. What fun!

After I had separated the others, I led Maverick out of the cattle pen and unsnapped his lead rope while scratching an itchy place on his neck. I stopped scratching and he looked at me like, "now what?". Once he took a few steps and realized I was no longer attached to him he was gone! Months of frustration at being cooped up was released in a matter of minutes as he flew around the field investigating everything he could find. Eventually he made it to Junior, who was very grumpy and unhappy about the separation from his soul mate. Semi was also miserable, standing on the other side of the fence mooning at Junior. The young girls had already made a gallop around the pasture to find the best grazing and were busy stuffing their faces. I had thrown out some alfalfa for Junior, but Maverick just walked by it -- all he wanted was GRASS. I was able to get within a couple of feet of him and didn't try to get closer. I sat on the ground with the dogs for awhile and he came up right behind me and nudged me in the back. So I'm hoping tomorrow's breakfast will go well and he'll let Glenn rub him. Being out with the herd will definitly improve his health and mentality, so I think we'll see a lot of progress in the coming days!

A Day of Pics, and Whiskey's New Name

I ended up giving Whiskey his new name. Of course I did. After all the moaning and groaning about wanting to be the one to name him, Glenn couldn't come up with anything good. Shadowfax, Legolas, Gimli, Spitfire... blech. So from now on, Whiskey's name is Maverick. Not the Tom Cruise Maverick of Top Gun fame, but more the Mel Gibson type Maverick in the corny, yet entertaining western.

We made some pretty good progress yesterday during our two walks to the yard for grass. He stood still and let me curry him from head to butt on both sides, AND I was able to actually spray his mane with Show Sheen and comb out all of the knots! Now if I could just take a pair of scissors to those turd balls on his stomach I'd be thrilled! While out in the yard I had a slight doggy emergency and had to run in the house. I didn't want to tie him up to anything, and he looked so happy eating that I just dropped the rope and ran into the house. A few minutes later I came back out of the house and expected him to be running around the yard free as a bird. He hadn't moved. He was still stuffing his face with grass and allowed me to walk right up to him and pick up the lead rope. Woohoo! It's the little things in life that tickle me pink these days. :)




He's slowly starting to learn that humans might not be all that bad... especially when they know where to scratch.



He's still in the cattle pen for now, the weather has warmed up nicely even tho it's still rains almost every day. The pastures are growing like crazy and I'm hoping to turn him out with Junior before it gets so lush that I have to worry about founder. I don't feel comfortable turning him out in a 10 acre pasture until he's more comfortable with being caught. Catching a horse in a 20x20 cattle pen is hard enough when he doesn't want to be caught!

A few weeks ago, Glenn joined the Arbor Day Foundation for a whopping 10 bucks and got 10 free trees and a Lilac. What a deal. Of course, you couldn't pick which trees you got for free and they're so small they suggest planting them all in a little group with some protection and let them grow for a year. Then you can rip them up transplant them to their "forever home". So today I let the little buggers soak for awhile, then went out with the "crew" and planted: 2- Sargent Crabapples, 2 Eastern Redbuds (these grow wild on the side of the road in VA where we came from), 2 White Flowering Dogwoods (doesn't EVERYONE have these??? how boring), 2 Washington Hawthorns, 2 Goldenrain trees, and 1 fragrant Lilac. This wore out the crew and they are all currently napping. Jilly Bean finds curling up to Heidi's butt warm, but a little stinky now and then.



Jack prefers to have the couch to himself so he can stretch out and really get in a good nap.

And to end this post on a rainy, dreary, and chilly day I post a pic of our place from last summer, the first time we came here to look at the place. Here's to dreaming of warm sunny days and green pastures.

Successful Failure

Whisky, who's name will change as soon as Glenn makes up his mind and picks a new one, decided to take off his own halter Friday night. He still wasn't letting us touch him and our only way of getting a hold of him was that halter. So yesterday morning I took his feed up, but didn't dump it in his bucket this time. I sat down in his hay and held his bucket out and just waited. We talked about all manner of things, but especially how the weather was nice and warm and wouldn't he like to be caught and go for a walk in the grass? Either he got tired of listening to me blabber on or he just got hungry and decided I was harmless while sitting on my butt, but he finally walked up and shoved his head in the bucket. I still wasn't allowed to touch him -- as soon as I so much as moved my thumb towards his nose he would jump back. So I left him alone to eat, just happy that he was that close to me and hadn't swung his butt towards me for a kick yet.

Last night we went thru the same process, but this time after eating out of the bucket for a few minutes I put some in my hand an offered that instead. He didn't think twice and gently lipped it out of my hand. Woohoo! Now we're getting somewhere! Maybe I'll be able touch his nose now... nope! He didn't jump back, but he threw up his head and shook it at me. I spent the rest of dinner handing him food and behaving like a good human. At that point I thought it would be at least another week before he trusted me enough to come to me and let me put a halter on him. I didn't want to lasso him again and force myself on him. The truce needed to be on his terms.

All that went out the window this morning when I woke up and looked out the window. Willow had gotten out of the field and was enjoying the lush grass in the yard. But there were still four horses in the pasture and none in Whiskey's little run. Oops. He had freed himself at some point during the night, probably around the same time Willow decided that barbed wire was really not enough to keep her away from our yard. At least she didn't lead the rest of them out for a midnight tour of the neighborhood! So now we have Whiskey sans halter in a six acre pasture with the other horses. Yippee! This will be fun.

Glenn grabbed the lasso and I had the feed in my hand. Once we were up at the barn our other four came running as usual. Whiskey followed up to the barn, but then decided it was too scary so just ran around it a few times. After the others were tied up and eating we led Willow back out as bait. He loves the younger mares and they are now in full season thanks to him. Good thing he hasn't dropped yet, we certainly don't need any more babies!! He got fairly close to Willow and I was able to prove to him that I had food in his bucket and fed him out of my hand for a bit. Every two bites I'd move back a couple of steps and he'd slowly follow until we got him right in front of the barn door, then he wouldn't come any further. We took a few minutes to stew things over, him just staring at his food bucket, us staring at him. I finally put his bucket down and stepped away. He dove for it without hesitation. A few bites later I walked over and moved his bucket back into the barn. Again, he walked right in. Once his butt was past the gate, Glenn shut the gate on him and now he was effectively penned in the barn (machine shed in disguise as a barn) with Willow and Kita.

We tied Willow up and asked her to flirt with him to bring him closer. She had no problems raising up her tail and looking lovingly at the little guy. Good thing he still thinks girls have cooties because I doubt he's tall enough to do any good. After a few minutes Glenn got in a lucky shot with the lasso and we had him! He panicked just a little, but as soon as he realized he wasn't going anywhere he settled down for the rubbing and petting and finished up his breakfast. WHEW! I got a halter on him with no problem then we took off the lasso and he just stood there chewing. Once he finished breakfast and we were frozen it was time to move him back to the cattle pen so we could fix his fence. He led beautifully this time! It helped to have Willow and Kita walking ahead of him, but he only walked a few feet away from me this time and wasn't trying to escape.

When we were halfway to the pen I stopped walking and said "whoa". THE LITTLE BUGGER STOPPED AND LOOKED AT ME. Could he be that smart?? Or did he have some remedial handling at one point in his life and now everything was coming back to him? When I started walking, so did he right beside me. Oh, maybe just maybe this was going to be easier than I thought! Once in the cattle pen we rubbed his face and neck for a few more minutes then dropped the lead rope and let him do his own thing while we got hay and water. A few minutes later I walked over to him to see what he'd do. He walked away a few feet then turned and walked TO me! Note the lead rope is behind him in the pic below.

I grabbed the lead rope with little fuss from him and with only a little tug on the halter we took slow steps over to the water buckets. Once he had some water we made much fuss over him and got more photo ops.

These hardened manure balls may not come off until he sheds, but with a little more time and a lot more patience I may get a pair of scissors under there to take care of things.

He must have rubbed his neck raw when locked in that stall. I'm just not sure what he would have found to rub it on. He isn't tall enough to get that part of his neck over the stall wall.

Time to put some warmer clothes on, grab the carrots and brushes, and go see what kind of fun we can have. :)

Kissing Cousins

My cousin Ricky died today. He was 39 years old and had three kids. He went to see his doctor about back pain earlier this week and ended up in intensive care after they found his body was ravaged by cancer. The pain became unbearable and the doctors medically induced a coma.

They pulled the plug today.

We grew up several states apart, he in New Jersey while I was in Virginia. But we saw each other at least once a year, whether it was a family reunion or just his parents visiting my grandparents. He was always kind, funny, mischievous and light-hearted. I remember when I was 6 how he used to steal kisses behind my grandparent's shed when he thought the "grown-ups" weren't watching. We were kids then and thought life went on forever.

I haven't seen or talked to Ricky in over 10 years, since we met again at a family reunion. This time he was fresh out of the Navy, a caring husband and a doting father. I can't tell you the name of his wife. I don't remember the names of his kids. I'm not even sure where he lived in Florida.

But I miss him just the same.

Rain rain go away!

And don't come back until July! It's done nothing but rain since yesterday morning. It needs to stop soon because I don't think there's enough room for everyone on the bass boat. But, boy, is the grass ever growing and turning that really lush Spring green! It's almost time to dust off the muzzles for the fat girls. The above pic is our ancient Willow tree that's in the yard not far from the house. That "wet weather" stream hasn't dried up since we moved in. It heads behind the house and into our close-to-overflowing pond.



Last night we went out and got the fence up in front of the small barn for Whiskey. Catching him only took a couple of minutes (he's getting better!) and he was shivering quite a bit. Walking the few hundred yards from cattle pen to small barn wasn't too bad as long as Glenn walked behind him and clucked some encouragement now and then. He'd still rather back away than walk with me, and when we do have forward motion it's at the end of the 10' lead rope. But he doesn't buck or try very hard to escape and I didn't end up being drug thru the mud. These are all pluses in my book.

Once in the small barn he ran in to check it out and paw at his hay... and make sure he had water. Sometimes when we're standing there watching him he checks his water buckets every few minutes just to make sure he's still got water. I don't think he can believe that he gets hay AND water whenever he wants. Now if the demanding humans would just leave him alone and not insist on catching him and rubbing on him he'd be really happy. He does seem to enjoy our company though. Or maybe it's just the dogs that he likes. Brie and Zues both hang with the little guy, laying down in the hay and watching him eat. He likes them and tries to sniff them whenever possible.

Zues is a shelter dog that we've had for about a month now. He's a year and half and weighs about 110 lbs. The vet thinks he's part St. Bernard and part Golden Retriever. He's dumb as a box of rocks and as needy as a three day old kitten. I am NOT allowed to do anything around the house alone and his company is required for everything. I am finally getting into the habit of looking behind me before turning around because I grew tired of tripping over him.











I've had Brie since she was 5 weeks old. You could say she was another rescue since her ignorant owners said they were drowning the puppies if they didn't find homes before they were 6 weeks old. If they didn't want puppies maybe they should have kept their female Husky HOME instead of letting her roam the neighborhood. Brie's mom was full Husky and who knows what Dad was. I've heard guesses like german shepard, chow (???), black lab, malamute, and wolf. My mother seems to think Brie is the devil incarnate, but I think she's just misunderstood.

Whiskey pic

It's raining this morning, but the little guy didn't seem to mind standing out in it. We weren't able to get the fence around our small barn done in time yesterday, so he doesn't have any shelter. But it's in the 40's and his winter coat is so thick he's in no danger of even shivering!

We had left a lead rope attached to his halter yesterday to make catching him a bit easier. He managed to break the snap last night, so catching him today will be an adventure! I caught him yesterday and spent 15 minutes just rubbing his neck and head and made sure when I was done that I was the one to leave him and not the other way around. This morning he actually took a few steps towards us when we brought in more hay and didn't turn his butt towards us as usual. There's hope!

Whiskey is home!

The animal control officer, Jamie, called at 10am this morning "I've got a deputy, we're on the way, meet us there in 10." After being up since 5am in anticipation and worry about how we were going to get our hands on him, we were off and running. We got there right after Jamie and the deputy, halter, lead rope, and lasso in hand. Jamie took a look at him and said there was nothing she could do as far as prosecuting the owner because the horse was not emaciated. It didn't matter that he had been locked in his stall for three months with access to food and water only when caretaker "felt like it", and was standing on two feet of his own urine and feces. It didn't matter that he had obviously been beaten and abused. According to the law, this was nothing that she could prove in court. And unless he was terribly starved and on his death bed, there was nothing she could do. But there was plenty that we could do. We could get him out of that stall, into the trailer, and take him home. Somehow.

With one person on the outside of three stall walls to force him around to me at the door, I was able to slip the lasso over his head after just a few minutes. The ceiling was only inches above his head, and throwing the lasso would have only encouraged explosions and injuries. Once the lasso was securely around his neck I handed the one end to Glenn who was equipped with heavy gloves. As he kept Whiskey's head to me and kicking back hooves away, I walked sideways with eyes downcast down the lasso to Whiskeys head. He wasn't happy and I'm sure it took almost Herculean strength on Glenn's part, but I was able to get a lead rope attached to one side of his halter. Then Jamie came up on the other side and got a rope on the right. This was still not enough to get the little guy out of the stall. We then got a long cotton rope and got it wrapped around his butt. With the deputy pulling on the right, me on the left, Glenn on the lasso, and Jamie on the butt rope, we eventually wrestled him out the door.

Once in the sun, we let him stand still for a bit and relax. He kept squinting his eyes to get them used to the bright daylight. How pathetically sad is it for an animal who should be allowed to run wild to have to take a moment to get used to sunlight?? Walking to the trailer went without a hitch, but still required the butt rope. Fourteen months old, and he has no clue how to lead. Getting him on the trailer was easier than getting him out of the stall, and once safely on board he dove into the hay net.

He rode well on the windy back road to home, but he's so small I doubt we would have felt it if he had made a fuss. Once the ramp on the trailer was down, he backed slowly out without a problem. He took one look around at the pastures just turning green with Spring and at our other horses in the far back field who were now curiously watching and wondering what Mom brought home this time. Then he calmly walked up to the cattle pen which is to be his home until he gains some trust in us and I feel comfortable letting him out in the big pasture. He ate every blade of grass he could find, nibbled on the hay, drank two buckets of water, and played with the dogs. We saw him from the house trotting around his pen then throwing one buck after another just testing his legs and new-found freedom. He was exhilarating in the fact that he COULD trot and buck. And so were we.

Pictures were taken, then accidentally deleted from the camera. It's dark now and late, so more pic opportunities tomorrow!

People Suck

I hate people. I truly truly HATE people. I'm so angry right now I'm ready to kill someone. On my way home from town today I saw a guy and his son hitchhiking on our backroad. So I stopped, they jumped in and only needed to go another mile or so. When I dropped them off the guy came up to the window and said "you know anyone interested in a saddle horse?" Curiosity got the best of me and I said sure, I'll take a look at what you've got.

Well, these two mares were just brought to his place this morning by the owner. The one supposed 4 yo (lucky if she's two) is pretty darned skinny and very spooky. He's going to start "breaking" her tomorrow since that's what the owner wants.

"He brought her 275 miles down here for me to break her."

"What breed is she?"

"She's a pullin' horse."

Um, ok. On to the next mare. They want $400 for this mare. You would have to see her to believe her. She's a light palamino under all the mud (I think), she's about 15.2 h and she's preggers. That's not the problem. The problem is that her top jaw is so shifted and twisted, it doesn't meet the bottom jaw at all. Her right nostril is half closed due to the defect and there's just no way you'd ever get a bit in her mouth (unless you're really cruel). Otherwise, she's a little skinny for being preggers, but not altogether in that bad of shape.

Then he takes me to the back of the barn to another horse that I never would have known was there. Mind you, there is NO pasture at this place. Nothing is fenced in and what little grass they have is littered in trash. I peeked in the stall window and wanted to cry. What I saw was a 14 month tricolor stud colt with a too tight halter cutting into his nose, clumps of hair missing from here and there, compacted clumps of manure hanging from his stomach, and he looks like he's got a great big wormy mess in his distended belly. There was no hay in the stall and the water bucket was on the floor filled with manure. On the outside of his door was the leftovers of some old moldy hay roll. It took 15 minutes for me to pitchfork it out of the way to get the door open enough to get him out... in case I was able to catch him. He was standing on at least 2' of manure. The roof was slanted and I bumped MY head on it a few times. Good thing this guy was still pretty small or he would have been on his knees. After an hour of trying to coax him close enough with hay or grain, his "caretaker" told me just to give him some water cause "he'd for sure want some water".

"How long has it been since he's had water?"

"Couple of days, I guess. They don't need much water when they're not bein' worked."

There was a rain barrel FULL of water right outside the stall where the colt could see it and smell it, but not drink it.

Puking at this point would not have gotten me anywhere, no matter how much I wanted to. He did want water, and drank almost two buckets. But every time someone reached for his halter, he'd spin away and stand trembling in a corner.

"Oh, he's really man-shy!" Like he hadn't already mentioned that 20 times. "He used to bite, but then I took that 9 volt cattle prod and got him right on the nose so he don't bite no more."

I drove the few miles home, called Glenn who then called the owner -- who just happens to be a farrier who says he's been "docterin'" the horse. According to caretaker, the responsible owner has not been out to even look at the horse since he dropped him off three months prior. The owner also said the colt was sick because he bought him at an Amish auction. On the way home to help me Glenn accidentally ran into our neighbor Steve, who was delivering hay to another farrier. Talk ensued and it came out that the farrier had GIVEN that colt to this other farrier -- the current owner.

We scrounged up $200 for this poor colt, but no matter what approach I took I could not get hands on him to get him out of that stall and into the trailer and quickly ran out of daylight. Caretaker said he could catch him tomorrow come feed time. So I gave him my number to call me in the morning when he was caught. Then I cried the whole way home and left a message with the local animal control officer that we had met a couple of months ago. Glenn had called her earlier to tell her about the situation and she was going to come out to our place tomorrow morning to look the little guy over. Hopefully, she'll be able to help us get him out of the stall and into the trailer as well.

Pics and a continuation of the story tomorrow when we finally bring "Whiskey" home. I don't mind the name, but I think he needs a new name for a new life.

Getting Started

Ah, the beginning bloggers first post. What to say? Where to start? How much can I babble on without losing you? I guess there's nothing for it but to hit the ground running and see what happens!


We bought our first property in September 2007 and moved up here in November. Woohoo! I never thought owning my own place could be so fulfilling and so... unbelievable. I walk around the place thinking about things I'd like to change in the house and I sometimes get that thought in the back of my brain that says 'you need to check with the landlord first'. Ack! Maybe the fact that I am the landlord will sink in eventually, but it hasn't yet. The other day I noticed the cats were tearing up one of the window screens in the living room. When they want to come in the twins climb the screen and hang there until we notice them and let them in. No matter how cute this is, it does very little to increase the life of the window screen and the first thought that popped into my head was 'we'll have to replace that screen before the lease is up'. How long will this last??


We've got a fairly secluded 40 acres here and some mighty grand plans, to include huge organic garden and orchard, riding ring and barn for the horses (that's really for me, the horses couldn't care less), milking goats for making my own cheese, a small beef cattle herd, and chickens. We want to tear down this house and put up something that doesn't have two stair steps going into every room and looks like it was all built at the same time instead of a room here and there over the years. And where does all this DUST come from?? We cleaned the house last night and included the dreadful dusting chore this time. Now I remember why we gave up on dusting for the winter. This morning there was a visible coating of dust on everything again. Ugh, the dust battle goes on.


I would also like to dally a bit in bee keeping and the love of my life (because he may read this) wants to go off grid and experiment with solar power. The place already comes equipped with a high-technology spring-fed cistern that uses some new process called gravity to provide water to the house. This is all fine and dandy, until it rains and our crystal clear delicious water that comes out of the faucet turns into brown silt-laden, do I even want to boil pasta with it, mud. This area had a very bad drought in 2007. People had to haul water in big tanks for home use and livestock all summer, and some are still hauling water on a weekly basis. We listen to the locals tell us all about it and just nod our heads like we believe it... it has done nothing but rain or snow since we moved in! Oh to be able to step outside and not sink into 6 inches of mud, or walk thru the grass without water squishing up to your ankles. This whole place is like a big sponge coated in red indian clay - which makes the sponge very slippery! I have hit the ground enough times to permanently turn the backside of my blue jeans brown. But even with all the problems we've run into so far and the ones I'm sure are still to come, we love this place and wouldn't trade it for anything!


Still here?

If I haven't lost you yet, then check back later for gardening tips, horsey talk, canine hijinks's, feline jokes (I'm almost always the butt of these), and home improvement adventures that will probably never end!