I've reached my limit

We brought home four more horses in the rain yesterday. Yes, they were from the same rescue. All three of Dolly's daughter's: Classy, Baby, Meg, and a TB gelding named Indy. This is it until some leave. No more. The pastures are full, more hay is on the way for winter, and I've got plenty to keep me busy from now until 2028.

Baby is a 13yo dark seal bay and she's definitely the alpha mare of the three. She came home with Indy yesterday and protected him from all the other horses, even though he really didn't need protection. Today she herds around her mother and sisters and chases away any other horses that come near. Glenn fell in love with her right off the bat and proclaimed her as his new mare. "We're not adopting her out, she's MINE." Well OK then. And he's decided to name her after one of my coworkers that he likes to flirt with, Tabatha. Tabby for short. Yuck. No offense, Tab.


Classy fits her name to a T. She's a big, beautiful bay and has a ton of class. The other three loaded reluctantly on the trailer yesterday, but Classy didn't even bother to take a sniff and just marched right on. When turned out once they got here she had a huge trot, her tail was straight in the air and her head was high. She was friendly towards all the others and her reunion with her dam was like a quick peck on the cheek. She seemed very regal indeed! This morning she discovered treats and put all the royal class aside to beg for more treats like a kid in a candy store. She's also in love with Junior and nuzzles him over the fence. Semi is less than pleased.


Megalia is a 19yo bay mare. She's the only lame one out of the bunch that came home yesterday. She's got a puffy tendon that isn't sensitive to palpitation, but was making her gimp around a bit yesterday. But they'd all been locked in their stalls for about 24 hours because of the rain and she seems a lot better today. The swelling is gone and I haven't seen her gimpy at all.


A lot of people have inquired about Indy since I started taking in these horses. When I first saw him a month ago standing in his stall, dripping sweat, thin as a rail, and hanging his head in the corner I thought to myself that this is a horse that really didn't care if he lived or died. He had no interest in the humans standing outside his stall looking in and no interest in the hay a couple feet away. I didn't take him then because I was concerned that with his history of founder he'd have trouble on all the pasture I have. When I went back to look at him yesterday he had put on weight, he was inhaling his breakfast, and he was friendly and inquisitive. Surprisingly, he trotted off sound when he got off the trailer yesterday. We'll be working on those feet tomorrow!

Last Saturday saw the first ride on Meghan. Anne came over and we took Meghan and Willow out for an hour trail ride. While I was tacking up Meghan she was sweet, in my pocket, and acting like she was ready to ride. Once the bit was in her mouth she was a panic-stricken wild thing, flinging her head and trying madly to push it out with her tongue. Once I took the bridle off she was back to normal. Hmm.. she'll be going to the vet to get her teeth checked, but I believe this is probably a fear reaction from some bad experiences. I put a halter on her instead, and hooked some reins to the sides. When I was ready to mount she was also tense, wide-eyed, and acting like she was ready to explode. Once I sat down easy in the saddle and she realized I didn't have spurs, she gave a big sigh and relaxed.


She continued to impress both Anne and myself during the trail ride. She was OK in the lead or behind Willow. She didn't spook once, even though there was plenty to spook at. To get to the trails we have to ride through our neighbor's junked cars and piles of tires and she was a champ through it all. She was point and go, no hesitation, ears forward, loving every minute. Log across the trail? No worries, she found a way around it. She never took a bad step and I never had to pull her back. The whole ride was at a walk, except for a couple of very short trots here and there. Her only problem was on the way home when she was tired and didn't want to trot anymore. If I squeezed her forward she'd swing her head around and bite at my foot. She'd trot on her own if Willow got too far ahead, but she didn't want it to be my idea. And I didn't want it to be hers. So we've got that to work on still, but I think she'll be ready for adoption in no time.

Pictures of the newbies tomorrow once the camera battery is charged again.

Setting the Record Straight

It was brought to my attention over the weekend that there are some people out there on this great wide internet that have come to the conclusion that I am a horse dealer. They don't know me, other than this blog, nor did they care to know me before passing judgement. Why do they think this? Because I took on six horses from another local rescue that could no longer feed them and they can't understand why. Perhaps because they wouldn't have had the heart or means to do so? This makes me a horse dealer? Didn't all rescues start out this way... by "rescuing" horses in need? Now I could understand the horse dealer label if I had only taken six well trained and sound horses and immediately had them up for sale before even riding them. But come on people, use your brains and whatever little common sense you may have to actually consider the facts.

Out of those six horses, this is a rundown of the ones I chose to take:
1 - rideable, but has minor training issues that make her undesirable to adopters right now.
3 - old or unsound horses that I knew would be pasture ornaments.
1 - a supposedly "dangerous" mare that couldn't even be haltered when she came here
1 - a two year old that will be a pasture ornament until at least next year, and may never be rideable due to defects/old injuries on his left hind.

So are these horses that a horse dealer would have taken? Maybe so... but that dealer would have taken them straight to Sugarcreek auction and not even bothered to bring them home.

Am I a horse dealer because I'm not begging for donations? Because I'm not whining and moaning about the price of feed or hay? Or is it because here I am, all of sudden, willing to help out horses in need when the economy is so bad? How can anyone who is not a dealer do that? Is that your pathetically flawed logic?

Well let me set a few things straight for you. I have a job. A good job that allows me to work from home and afford to feed all of these horses. Glenn also has a job -- a new job that allows him to set his own hours, drive a company vehicle, and pays him much more than he was making before. We don't require donations to feed these horses and if I did have to rely on the kindness of others I never would have taken them in the first place.

I have been riding horses since I was five years old. I have ridden and trained with some very good riders over the years -- I haven't just been hacking a pony through the woods on the weekends. I have also been a working student, barn manager, trainer, and groom. I have volunteered with the HSUS, AHPA, and ERL in Virginia. Horses have been my life and somehow I have never been mistaken for a dealer. In my 31 years of owning and riding horses I have sold THREE. That's it, just three. One OTTB gelding became the best friend to a 13 yo girl in Maryland who taught him how to jump and made him a reserve champion. The other two were horses that I had bought one at a time for the man in my life and neither one worked out for him. I have given away a few rescues to good homes and still to this day get updates from the owners. Does that make me a dealer?

This will be my only response to the nitwits who call me a dealer. Unlike them, I don't have time to berate and insult others on an internet forum. I'd rather be doing something productive. Please people, get off your butts and off the internet, leave the rest of us be, and go be with your horses.

Random thoughts for the day

"What do you think they are?"
"Food"
"Well, duh, but do you think they are white meat or dark meat?"
"Who cares?"
"Good point. Do you think mom put them in the cage to keep them in or us out?"
"I dunno"
"Do you think they'll grow more? They wouldn't last us long as they are now. And it's hardly sporting to kill something so small."
"I dunno"
"What do you know?"
"I'm hungry."
"Me too."


Don't worry, no guineas were harmed in the making of this post.



This is what the terrible three look like when they are behaving. Take a quick look, it doesn't last long.




Tonight's harvest. Kohlrabi (already peeled), beets, and baby carrots for munching on with some Ranch dressing tomorrow during work. That tomato in the back is not from my garden, but from a farmer's market. One of those roadside stands where you think you'll get fresh veggies. Nope. The tomatoes I got from them did a really good impression of cardboard.



I really have no idea what to do with those beets. I sliced them up and threw them in a ziploc for now. I'll look up some recipes later, but if anyone wants to share their favorite recipe, I'm all ears.


These two luscious little beauties came off my Tristar everbearing strawberry plants tonight. Usually I snatch them off the plant and pop them in my mouth before they even have the chance to know what's happening. But the other night I made the mistake of mentioning to Glenn that the strawberries have been really good so far.

"We have strawberries?? Why haven't you been saving me any???"

Oops. That was supposed to by my little secret. My guilt made me bring these in the house tonight, clean them up, and put them on the counter for Glenn when he gets home. They're still sitting there. Just waiting to be eaten. All by themselves. I wonder if they're lonely? Maybe I should go sit with them.




My tomato theory: the plants grow a foot a week. AT LEAST. These cages are 5' tall and it's not even July yet. I also feel that if the plants are this big then they need to be putting out some ripe maters. Is there a tomato plant union that I don't know about?




I had an awesome ride on Kita tonight. I've only been riding her a few times a week lately because of everything else on my plate. Even though she's 9 years old, she's still what some would consider "green". When down in VA I had very little time for riding because of work and my 3-5 hours a day spent commuting to and from work. The barn I was at didn't have a riding ring and no outside lights, so finding time to ride was difficult at best. Kita doesn't rear or buck, but sometimes the steering is broken and the gas pedal sticks. So we've been working on circles, transitions, and a little collection. She's got a great natural head carriage for a Standardbred and she's a decent mover. But my goal in life with her is to make her a steady and trustworthy trail horse that can also be used to pony the younger horses. Tonight, she was incredible. She was flexible, responsive, relaxed, and totally into it. She stopped throwing her inside shoulder around the corners, she never stuck her nose out and made faces while trotting, she stayed on the bit and collected the whole time, and she seemed very happy. Those are the kinds of rides that I live for.

I'm hoping to have time this weekend to hit the trails across the road on the neighbor's farm. A nice relaxing trail ride on my favorite girl is just what the doctor ordered.

Babies, Birds, and Baby Birds

No, I'm not pregnant.



But a great big happy dance happened on Monday when my friend's mare finally had her baby. Anne has been sleeping out in the barn for weeks waiting for the stork and on Monday morning at 1:30AM the little one finally made an appearance. She's absolutely adorable. But what foal isn't? I have lots of pictures from Anne, but don't want to steal her thunder. But I did get permission to put this one up on the blog. I love this picture and it was a total accident according to Anne (who I believe is a professional photographer in disguise).













Here's another great picture not taken by me (hey, I never claimed I was a good photographer). Ever since we hung up the hummingbird feeder on the porch we've been accumulating more and more hummingbirds. We started with one, then two days later we had three, now two weeks later we have seven that I've counted. They fight over the feeder constantly and when I sit out on the porch working I get dive bombed regularly. Glenn only had to sit out with the camera for five minutes before he caught this one. I may just let him take all the pictures from now on.








Over the weekend I took the table that Glenn had built for my seed flats, flipped it upside down, and wrapped it in hardware cloth. The guineas are much happier in their new home, even though it's really ugly.

Little guys are getting big fast, aren't they?? Some of the older ones are starting to spread their wings and fly a foot or two around their cage. Guess it's time to put a top on the cage.

Can you tell I really have nothing to say, but just feel guilty for not blogging in a few days? Oh, but I can tell you about dinner tonight because I was especially proud of it. Not because it tasted awesome, but because it was completely horrible to look at and Glenn ate it anyway. Glenn calls dishes like these my "concoctions". They're nothing special, but I guess when you're used to hot dogs and mac n' cheese, pasta with basil & spinach pesto and chopped tomatoes seems pretty fancy.

Ingredients:
boatload of fresh from the garden sweet basil
one or two spinach leaves, depending on size
cup or two of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
tons of Parmesan cheese

Cook pasta, combine everything else in the food processor. Chop maters. Put everything together and stir it up till it looks green and disgusting. See, so easy and quick. I felt so Rachel Rayish, but only because as I was adding the olive oil I called it EVOO.

Boy was I ever wrong

I slept like a log last night. No baby raccoon faces or whimpers floating through my dreams. I slept so soundly I don't even remember my dreams. I could have slept another four hours this morning. I certainly didn't want to get up and start work. Why did I sleep so well when I'm usually an insomniac? Lemme tell ya, 3.5 hours of push mowing lawn in my yard would make anyone sleep well. As long as they took some ibuprofen for the achy back, sore calves, and screaming hips! What a workout! If I keep this up I'll definitely lose those unwanted pounds by August.



Anyone want to pay me for the privilege of mowing my yard? It beats those gym memberships! And you'll be outside in the fresh air! And the view of the horses can't be beat while you sweat those pounds off!



Yeah, didn't think so.

Speaking of horses, Stride and Dolly dined alfresco yesterday. After their meal they enjoyed grassy dessert in the back yard. Neither one of them even thought about eating my garden. Good Ponies. You can see Brie performing her job (when not killing baby raccoons) -- whenever a horse is eating grain, she's right there to clean up any mess left behind. Now if I could just get her to clean the house that well, I'd have a lot more free time.





When I got up this morning, Stride and Dolly were standing patiently at the small gate, waiting to come into the yard to eat. Spoiled already??


Remember the cherry tree I bought this year from Raintree? It HAS A CHERRY ON IT!! Oh boy oh boy oh boy! One this year, 100 next year!



But I also found these little buggers on my cherry tree. These are the first Japanese beetles that I've seen this season and I'm not happy. Those little guinea hens couldn't grow fast enough!



Speaking of garden pests, my other worst enemy has always been flea beetles. They always destroy my eggplants. The past few years I've put remay over them as soon as I plant them and have had healthy plants that produce eggplants out the wazoo. I wasn't organized enough this year to have remay on hand when I planted the eggplants. The eggplants have been in the ground for a few weeks now, but I finally got remay ordered and rec'd it yesterday. I already have cage supports around each plant, so I figured this year I'd just wrap the remay around the supports and tuck the bottoms of the remay into the dirt. This is what the finished product looks like. Not pretty, but hopefully functional.



Time to get to work. Please tell me it's really Friday and I'm not still asleep just dreaming about the end of the work week.

When Good Dogs Go Bad

Brie is a killer. I've known this since she was a pup. Her first summer, when she was only a few months old, she started bringing home ground hog corpses. MANY ground hog corpses. 23 dead little beasties that summer, and those were just the ones I saw. Some of them were as big as she was. But I didn't mind. Fewer ground hogs meant fewer ground hog holes for the horses to step in. I even considered renting her out to cattle farmers and other horse owners as pest extermination. The only problem I had was that she brought them home to marinate them in the horse trough before devouring. The horses weren't at all crazy about this and Junior would regularly tip over the 100 gallon trough and kick it around the field after she got her ground hog out, and sometimes before.

Today while I was out in the strawberry patch pulling weeds I heard her up in the trees barking and yapping at something. I jumped up and ran up the hill with the other dogs once the screaming started. I was just hoping it was the ground hog that had dug a ginormous hole in the side of the hill in the horse pasture, instead of the stray orange tabby that I've seen now and then at the barn. At one point the screaming sounded like a cat and my heart sunk. But then I got to the top of the hill and saw that she had a little brown body in her jaws and was just standing there tossing it around like a toy. When she saw me, she dropped the corpse and looked at me waiting for approval. That's when the corpse raised it's little baby raccoon head and whimpered.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I love animals. All animals (except ground hogs). I have a huge amount of compassion for animals and very little left over for humans. I know this is the way animals die. How few wild animals die of old age anymore if they're not at the top of the food chain? I know all this, but still. It was just a baby, only about 10 or 12 lbs. And it was adorable. I used to know an orphan raccoon by the name of Tiffy. Tiffy grew up well loved in a home with a family of cats, then after raccoon finishing school she was turned loose to live in the wild. I hear she has a great career, four well behaved children, and a loving husband now. Tiffy was awesome. She had this big orange plastic ball (I think it was actually a tacky 70's light shade) with a big hole in the bottom. Tiffy would curl her 25lb body into this little ball and roll herself around the floor. We used to say she was bowling for cats because at times it seemed she'd aim right for them.

And now I had a baby Tiffy lying there on the ground dying and whimpering at me. I had a brief huddle with myself to discuss it. Be strong, be tough, finish the little guy off and don't let him suffer. Raccoons carry rabies. Brie was just doing her doggie job in life. He would have probably raided the chicken coop eventually anyway. This is the way things are in the country, now toughen up and do what has to be done!

I didn't have my pocket knife on me for some reason. I always carry that thing. I wasn't going all the way back down to the house for a gun because it would take too long and I have no idea where Glenn keeps the ammo (maybe he's smarter than I thought). So I went in search of a large rock, all the time preparing myself for what I had to do. By the time I found a rock large enough to do the job, it wasn't needed any more.

Brie didn't even want to eat it. She just killed it because she could. Or because it was on her territory. Or because she was PMSing. Who knows. I just know I'll be thinking about his cute little face and hearing that whimper in my head for the rest of the night.

Playing Catch Up

Go get some coffee now, because this is going to be a long one.


Ready? Too bad, I'm starting without you.


First of all, what a week. Between my job keeping me at the laptop well into the evening, trying to get as much ground work as possible in on Jewel and Meghan, riding Kita and Willow, building tomato cages, numerous errands, and working my buns off on Saturday, I've just been way too busy to blog. Strike that, I've been way too tired to blog at the end of the day. Let's start with Saturday.


My new buddy, M, came over on Saturday ready to work. I had met M before and she's young, full of energy, and loves horses. She wanted to volunteer here and work with the rescues as part of her community service for college. Slave labor? Sure, I'm all for it! Little did I know that I would be the slave and M would be carrying around the lunge whip. The plan was to clean up the upper barn area, inside and out, to make it less of a hazard for the new horses. The previous owner of this place was a scrap yard owner as well and he had no problems bringing his work home with him. This was a project that I had been putting off because it was just so huge that I knew if I tackled it myself I'd never get it done. Then depression and self-butt kicking would ensue and it wouldn't be pretty. So I kept the horses out of that pasture and convinced myself that I'd get it done before winter. Then the new horses came around and had to go into that pasture. I just hoped that everyone would have enough sense to stay away from the junk until I could get it cleaned up. M resolved that for me on Saturday.

All the junk in the barn has been cleaned up and pallets laid down in preparation for the 200 bales of hay we're going to start stockpiling for winter. Most of the junk outside of the barn has been cleaned up and all of the broken wooden pallets have been thrown onto the burn pile. Once the burn pile was about 15' tall M was worried that passing satellites would pick it up when we lit it, so we started another burn pile. After the next big rain there will be wieners, s'mores, and beer for all, come on over.


When we were done, filthy, tired, and sore (well, I was sore) we headed back down to the house and as M was coming through the gate a little red car stopped in our driveway. Two young men got out and said those magical words "got any scrap metal you need hauled out of here"? DO WE EVER. I understand that scrap metal is paying pretty well right now and we could probably make a pretty penny if we wanted to haul it away ourselves. Let me share something with you... there would be no "us". Glenn just got promoted and starts working full time in a couple of weeks and he got a part time job doing manly mechanical things. So "me" doing all this scrap metal cleanup, taking care of garden and horses, push mowing the whole danged farm (feels like it some days!), and working my full time job would just be pushing the envelope of sanity. So being the hard driving bargain hunter that I am, I told the nice young gentlemen that they could have all the scrap metal on the place... if they hauled off the trash as well. They took one look around at all the metal that was visible from where they were standing, thought about the deal for all of 1/2 of a second and said "OK". I'm convinced those two boys (Am I that old that I call 20 somethings "boys"??) are my karma for taking in those horses. :)


Speaking of the new horses, I have a few things to say. This first picture is Momma Doll the day she arrived here. It's not a great picture because once her halter was off she wanted nothing to do with people and wouldn't let us near. Is it me, or does she just look miserable (and very thin, that much is obvious). Yes, she's 30 years old. 30 year old horses DO NOT need to look like this. So of course I tried to feed her. Her teeth are a mess, which explains why she's thin. But she also had no interest whatsoever in food. She would graze, but she'd turn up her nose at sweet feed. Until a few days ago. I've been watching her in the pasture and the past few days I've noticed a change come over her. She became more active, more alert, and more friendly towards the other horses. On Sunday she decided not to turn her nose up at food (soaked Equine Senior - yum). In fact, she shoved her face in the bucket and did not emerge until the bucket was licked clean. Since then she's been fed three times a day and I've been upping the amount every day by just a bit. Now she walks right up to us and let's us pet her and groom her and she seems to enjoy it. And there's a new sparkle in her eye that says "yeah, I want to live".








Meghan and Jewel. I keep hearing from people that knew her, that Jewel is dangerous. Be careful. Watch out for her. She's a kicker. Not once since she's been here has Jewel even laid back her ears at us. She's always been inquisitive and mostly friendly, as long as we weren't trying to pet more than her face. So we'll see what happens when I start asking her to work and learn. Maybe that's when things will get rough?


Meghan is a turd about having her feet trimmed. She tries to fall on you, dance on your feet, jump on your head, and generally make things very difficult. But we got her done the other night and her feet look a hell of a lot better than they did. They weren't quite elf shoes, but they were way too long to be comfortable.








Got Treats?


I tried moving Manny and Chief in with the bachelors this past weekend. It did not go well. I figured since Manny was such a tyrant that he and appybutt would butt heads for a couple of minutes then be ok with each other once it was decided who was king of the dwarfs. Manny turned out to be an extraordinary wimp. He and Chief found a way out of the field and into Juniors realm, then scooted across that without being molested and hid themselves in the woods by the road. M and I panicked when we didn't find them where we had left them and drove around the fields looking for downed fences and missing wusses. Chief had a little cut on his nose when we found them, but they were both otherwise ok. They went back out in their old pasture so that Manny could continue to terrorize Stride and the young girls at his leisure.


This made me consider appybutt's aggression. If he's going to be so aggressive with outside horses, maybe I should take him back to worthless horse owner next door? He wouldn't be far, I could keep an eye on him and make sure he stays healthy, trim his feet every month or so and make sure he gets wormed and fed. This was really starting to sound like a plan. Until I walked out of the house this morning and saw this.





Appybutt was guarding the Hunter dwarf while he takes a snooze in the morning sun. Maverick was way up on the hill maintaining his blimpish figure and not close enough to protect Hunter from lions or tigers or bears if the need arose. So it's a darned good thing appybutt was there. And they are just so adorable together that I don't have the heart to separate them.




On to all things garden. My calendulas started blooming a week ago. I just love these little flowers, however they've never grown as big as they did this year. How could you not adore something that colorful and happy? And don't forget to throw some flower petals in your next salad!







Remember the Litchi Tomato that I'm trying for the first time this year? I haven't even gotten any fruit yet, but I love this plant already. The flowers are attractive and what's not to love about a plant that protects itself with thorns like that (click on pic to blow it up)?














Oh baby oh baby oh. Come on, maters! Hurry! I just can't wait much longer!

This was dinner the other night. Beets and beet greens, swiss chard, broccoli, peas, and kohlrabi. I threw a pork loin in the crock pot, smothered it with chopped parsley and rosemary, chopped swiss chard stems, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a little water, salt and pepper then let it cook for 5 hours and 35 min. This is when the smells became overwhelming and I couldn't wait for Glenn to get home from work. I wilted the beat greens with some onion, garlic, salt and pepper. I boiled the beets and peas of course, and steamed the broccoli. The oregano and chives were chopped up and thrown on the salad along with the kohlrabi. Can we say healthy and delicious? I love my garden!

Tonight I picked up the newest additions to the family -- 20 guinea hens! They're a week to 10 days old, and just little fluff balls of cuteness. In about six weeks our bug problem will be history!

I have really got to stop keeping horse treats in the Jeep.

Random thought of the day

A long long time ago in a far away galaxy I was a kid. And I had a mother who was nothing like me. I know I know, it's the daughter that's nothing like the mother. Stay with me, I'll get there.


I grew up outside of a small podunk "town" with only one stop sign, two gas stations, a community center, elementary school, and two trailer parks. We had to borrow the zip code from a real town 12 miles away. The elementary school started combining grades when I was in the fifth grade because there were so few of us. There were 15 kids in the fourth and fifth grade combined.

[Johnny B Good]

The house I grew up on was only on three acres, but was surrounded by mostly farms and woods. I had an on again off again step-brother that couldn't stand me and the feeling was mutual. I spent my free time running through the woods, riding my horse, camping with my bestest buddy, or swimming in the pool. I wanted at least 10 pets, but satisfied my pet need by playing with snakes and frogs. I hated wearing dresses and once I was old enough to put my foot down about what I wore, I didn't own any. I was a jeans and t-shirt kind of gal from the start. I went through a phase one year in middle school when I wanted to be girly enough to wear makeup. But I knew nothing about putting it on so looked more like Bozo the Clown instead of Farah Faucett. Most of my friends were boys. Needless to say, I was never a cheerleader.

[Don't Give Me No Lines and keep your hands to yourself]

During this time my mom was the embodiment of girly. She wore makeup from the time she got out of the shower to the time she went to bed. She wore nice clothes every day. Her nails were perfect and she had regular manicure and hair appointments every month. She wanted nothing to do with dogs, but we were allowed a cat and had one small terrier for a short time that I was told went to a nice farm to live. Uh huh. I had to have been switched at birth. Whenever I'd bring that up she'd reply with "Oh no, you're definitely my kid. You came out ass first and have been causing me grief ever since." Don't hold back mom, tell me how your really feel.

[Sweet Home Alabama]

My mom tried really hard to turn me into a girl. She bought me pink and yellow girly clothes -- back then jeans didn't come in pink or yellow. My bedroom was originally painted pink. I rebelled by getting my bedroom painted in khaki. She'd by me jewelry which I promptly lost. And sometimes I gave in. I agreed to get my ears pierced, then let the holes grow back in a few weeks later (I did eventually pierce them again myself with an ice cube and needle. All for the sake of a boy named Billy). I think my mom finally gave up on turning me into a girl the day she admitted that I really might have been switched at birth because I obviously had way to much tom boy in me.

[Freebird]

Years after I had moved out she and my step-father got divorced after something like 25 years. My mother met another man, fell in love, moved to Texas, and started raising goats. No kidding, check out her out-of-date website (get on that mom): http://buttingheadsranch.biz/ . My mother gets just as dirty and grimy now as I do with my horses. She has dirt under her nails and no longer whines about it if one breaks, and she hasn't had a manicure in years. She lets her hair grow for several months before cutting or coloring it. The nice clothes have been shoved into boxes and thrown into storage. She rarely wears jewelry or makeup anymore. And you know what? She looks better.

So my mother has grown up to be just like me. :)

[Hippie Hippie Shake?]



If you're wondering why there are song titles littering this post it's because one of our neighbors owns a local bar and they are either having a party at their house or they're auditioning a band for their bar. These are the songs that have serenaded me as I sit in the dark on the porch and type up this post. The band sucks. Bring back the crickets and bullfrogs.

One Day at a Time

It was another scorcher here today and the horses spent most the day in the run-ins hiding from the bugs. Stride and Manny were sound this morning when they were trotting up on the ridge before it got too hot. Stride and Dolly are still afraid to drink from the shared trough when my horses are standing too near. They also don't like the spring-fed tub, or maybe they just haven't found it yet. Chief (I keep wanting to call him Chicklet) and Manny constantly play bite face over the fence with my bachelors so I turned them out in the back pasture today. Chief went tearing around the field with the boys having a grand ol' time, while Manny stood at the gate giving me a dirty look. Once the boys were done running around Chief joined him and gave me an equally dirty look. I was out numbered so I put them back in the front pasture with the rest of the new crew.



This weekend or next I'm hoping to put the young girls in with Junior and his harem and Manny and Chief back in with the bachelors. The old married couple, Stride and Dolly, can stay in the front pasture since they are the only ones I'm graining right now. Everyone else is pleasantly plump, but if they start to drop weight on just grass I'll supplement with grain.

I only got a few pictures tonight because I actually remembered to bring my camera with me, but forgot to check the battery.

This is Jewel, and yes she's standing on a hill. She actually let me touch her face today. Small miracles. Isn't she adorable?





Meg, the maybe Morgan cross, but who really knows mare. I just know she's cute, adorable, and likes to be in my pocket. This was the only picture I got of her before she turned to come see if I had any treats and follow me around while I took pics of Manny. Check out that mane!




Manny the Wonder Horse. I'm in love with him already and it won't bother me one bit if no one adopts him. Even if he does give me the evil eye once in awhile.




Anyone out there want to do a rescue website pro bono? I'm a computer programmer, but I SUCK at web design. I hate it. HTML is a big mental block for me. Please, for everyone's sake, someone do a website and save us from my ASP ineptitude. Save us all from another terrible website that's hard to read and causes spastic convulsions.

Getting to Know the Crew

Today was another miserably hot and humid day. I spent the day out in the sun mending fence, making tomato cages, and generally just sweating my butt off. Most of the horses spent the day under the trees in the shade. We're not lacking for shade around here, but for some reason most of the new crew chose to stand out in the sun snoozing and swatting flies. Maybe tomorrow they'll figure it out.


I spent the evening grooming everyone, except for Jewel. She quietly stood to the side and watched, but turned away whenever I approached her. She's still not nearly as bad as Maverick was when he came here, so it shouldn't take her too long to come around -- especially when her best buddy Meg is such a pocket pony.


Let's start with the character of the bunch, Chief. He's a grade 2yo-ish sorrel gelding who reminds me a lot of Maverick. He's a bit skittish, but if I've got treats or food he's there in my pocket. He thinks Mav and Hunter are great and plays bite face with them over the fence. When I walked out into the pasture earlier they were all hanging around the spring-fed tub playing in the water. Chief likes to dip his whole head in the water up over his eyes. I've never seen a horse dip his head that far. I should probably get him a snorkel. Then he and Mav started splashing each other and OF COURSE I didn't have the camera. I'll get started on his training this fall along with Mav and Hunter, then back them all next summer. Let's hope my health insurance is up to the task.


Manny - 20yo registered Morgan gelding. Manny has some nasty clubbed feet in the front and was lame on the left front yesterday when we put him on the trailer. He was also a turd in the stall and did not want me putting my hand on his halter. He pinned back his ears and spun away as soon as I walked in his stall. If was outside of the stall he was as sweet as could be. Once we got him out of the stall and out to the trailer he made it known that he was very much in control of the situation and he knew he was bigger than me. He drug me over to the grass and it was a game of tug of war to get him back to the trailer. Once he knew I meant business about getting on he behaved himself and hopped on the trailer. Today he was only slightly off and every time I went out into the pasture he was the first to walk over and say howdy. He and Chief are joined at the hip.


Jewel - 4yo appaloosa. Jewel is cute, definitely cute. She's been ridden before, but there was some trouble with the last "trainer" that rode her and now she has trust issues. Once I get past the trust issues this mare is going to make some little girl a really nice horse. Since no one could get a halter on her before, her feet are pretty long and need to be done NOW. I ran out of daylight (and energy) today, but tomorrow I'll start working with her as I did Mav and see if I can't get a halter on her. We had to herd her out of her stall and into the trailer to get her home, but once she was in the trailer I tried petting her. She didn't explode, but she was as tense as she could be. She was just waiting for me to hurt her. :(


Meg - 5ish? We're not really sure on the breeding either, but she looks like she's got some Morgan and Quarterhorse in her somewhere. She's a bay with a couple of socks and the thickest, longest mane and forelock I've ever seen. I haven't ridden her yet, but she's supposed to be a nice riding horse who is just a little "lazy". I was going to get on her tonight just to putz around the pasture, but got the "don't you dare get on a strange horse when I'm not here" lecture from Glenn. He's not going to be here tomorrow evening either, but some friends of mine will be here. What he won't know, won't hurt him. Meg and Jewel are rarely more than a few feet away from each other.


Stride - 20yo registered QH. Stride has done it all. He's got a racing record and he's been there and done that in the western show ring. He's also a total gentleman with great manners and a very affectionate personality. I fell in love with him immediately when I met him Friday night. And if he doesn't find another home that would suit me just fine. He was also pretty lame when he came here yesterday morning. I'm thinking navicular, especially in his right front. He's been barefoot for awhile and not had any supplements. I'm going to start him on some homeopathic supplements for arthritis and see if that helps. I'm also on the search (again) for a farrier that can do corrective shoeing to see if that will help. Today he was trotting and cantering around the field with barely a limp.


Momma Doll - 30yo Standardbred mare. You can't help but love Dolly. She's a little on the thin side, but after her teeth get floated she should start putting the weight on. She's the sweetest mare in the world. Honest. I put a fly mask on her today and could tell that she wasn't sure what it was. But she stood perfectly still and let me put it on. When she walked away she snorted and held her head funny for a few steps, then got used to it and ignored it. When I took it off again tonight she almost seemed a little regretful. She just kept standing there looking at it in my hand until she realized I wasn't going to put it back on and walked away. She and Stride act like they're married. When Jewel or Manny chases Dolly, Stride jumps in to protect her. And when Stride didn't want to drink out of the trough because Junior was standing there on the other side of the fence, Dolly went over and bit Junior on the butt (I had never seen Junior so shocked!). As soon as Junior walked away Stride came to the trough for a drink.


Junior still isn't sure what to think of everyone. He tries to sniff noses with everyone, but only Chief is amiable enough to return the greeting. Everyone else ignores his attempts at friendship and keep pretty much to themselves. But it's only been a day so we'll see how things progress over the next week or two.


I didn't take any more pictures tonight. By the time I trudged up the hill of death to the barn for the evening grooming there was no way in hell I was going back down the hill to the house to get the forgotten camera, then back up the hill again. Tomorrow, I promise. But I do have one pic to share of Hunter, trying to get to the bag of treats on the floor of the truck while I was filling up the water troughs yesterday.




Or maybe he was just calling shotgun.