Introducing…

I promised introductions to the new horses tonight, so here goes.   Anne and I made notes about gender and personality and named everyone on Sunday.   The horses really didn’t look as bad as I thought they would, but the sheriff said the owners had been feeding them alfalfa and letting most of them out to eat next door at the quarry since Monday.  He said they looked a lot better in just a week and were no longer eating their own manure.   Bonus.

We named this gelding Chester.  He’s the friendliest one of the bunch and is more than happy to stand around and be loved on.   He’s a little guy, only around 14h tall.  He’s missing a bunch of hair thanks to the lice and being chased and chewed on by the bigger stallion.

 

This Tennessee Walker mare is Dahlia.  The neighbors told me that they used to see her being ridden up and down the road, so I assume she’s broke.  But like most the others, she would prefer not to be caught.  I was able to catch her tonight while she was eating and get her wormed.  She wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t fight me about it.

 

This is Don Juan, the Buckskin (Dun?) stallion.  Of course he was running with all of the mares, so let’s just hope Don Juan didn’t impregnate any of the mini mares!  He’s also got a lot of bald spots from lice, but his hair has started growing back already.  He’s getting friendlier by the day and I was able to get my hands on him to worm him tonight.

 

We named this little girl Sierra.  She’s also very shy, but once in awhile I can sneak up behind her and scratch her butt without her taking off.   She seems like a youngster, but I haven’t had a chance to check out her teeth yet.

 

This is one of the two yearling(?) colts that have obviously never been touched before.  They were both extremely difficult to catch and had no idea how to lead.  They are still very skittish and are terrified of us, even when we have food.  We named this one Fraggle.  I can’t tell you how much I just want to tackle him and take a shedding blade to him!

 

This is Apollo, the biggest surprise of all.  He’s a palomino AND he’s gelded!   Unbelievable!  He’s a long-legged boy who has been catchable since being rescued.  He loves a good scratching and was more than happy to be wormed with apple flavored ivermectin tonight.

 

That’s it for tonight, I’ll introduce you to more tomorrow!

Where Do I Start?

The past five days have been a whirlwind of chaos for me and I finally got a good night of sleep last night to recover from everything.  I’m really not sure how to tell you everything, so I suppose I’ll just start at the beginning and see where we end up. 

First, there’s that place outside of Fairmont with the 21 dead animals.  By the time Friday rolled around, three more animals had died.   See that pile of “stuff” slightly to the right and in front of the big black horse?  That’s a dead mini horse. 

 

Yes, I was there.  I told the sheriff that I’d take whichever horses did not get rescued by the other 40 people that called the sheriff’s department and said they would help by fostering.   But when they finally got the go-ahead from the judge to seize the animals on Friday, guess who showed up?

NOBODY. 

Just me and a buddy with a stock trailer.  23 surviving horses and not one other person who said they’d help even showed up.  And here I was thinking my faith in humanity would be renewed when we got there to see a chaotic mess of trailers and people all over trying to help.   The one thing that did change was my outlook on the police of Marion County.  I take back everything I said about those guys!!  They were awesome!  Without those deputies and the sheriff helping us out, we would never have caught some of those horses.  And if they hadn’t been there with their 4WD to haul our fat butts back up to the ridge after bringing down a set of horses, we would have died somewhere between horse 10 and horse 14.

I didn’t get many pictures that day.  There just wasn’t any time.  You’ll just have to believe me when I say you’d probably not want to look at them anyway.   I wish I could clear away the memory of the burn pile with unburned horse legs sticking out of the bottom.  Or the several piles of decaying dead animals.  Or the huge bull hanging from a tree over a stream, eviscerated – his guts still in a pile below his feet.  

Not ONE horse on that place was easily caught.  They all had to be tricked/cajoled/lured/lassoed or just plain wrestled in order to get them down to the road and trailers.  Once they were caught, most of them settled down and were docile, but there was no way they were going to be caught easily.  It makes me wonder what their lives were like when they were caught by the guy that had them.  I have 26 horses here on this farm, and all but two will walk right up to a stranger in the pasture and put their head in a halter. 

It took two whole days to get everyone to the quarantine farm about five miles away from here.   Stallions and mares were running together (of course) and it looks like a couple of the minis are ready to foal any day now.  The horses have to stay with me (and can’t be castrated) until a judge decides that the asshat isn’t getting them back. 

I’ll post tomorrow with pics of the new guys at the quarantine farm.  But now it’s time to go feed everyone and unload the hay we got late last night. 

WHAT THE HELL???

Back in March I told you about some starving horses outside of Fairmont, WV.  The authorities did nothing and the really thin horses disappeared quickly and have not been seen again. 

Shortly after that, there was this story about five dead horses found on land owned by someone that works for the Humane Society -- just outside of Fairmont.

The latest is an animal graveyard, just recently discovered thanks the warm weather making the neighbors wonder where the stench of rotting flesh was coming from.  First of all, the dead horse in the video does not look starved, nor do the live horses and minis in the video.   The cattle don’t even look that bad… they look a lot worse across the street at Cattle Baron’s place.  So why are all these animals dying?  Toxicity in the grass or water?  Intentional poisoning?  Dehydration?  And you guessed it, this place is right outside of Fairmont.

When I say this was just recently discovered, I mean the media is finally in on it.  Authorities heard complaints about it back in February, but obviously did nothing. 

I want to know what it takes to get the authorities to actually get off their collective asses, put down the doughnuts, step away from the computers, and actually do their job???

Oh, wait.  This is West Virginia.  Our state motto should be “Ignorance is Bliss”. 

Marion County authorities have a lot to answer for! 

 

*****UPDATE

I just got off the phone with the vet that went out with the sheriff.  This asshat actually did get arrested on 21 counts of neglect and was fined $1,000 per count.  He volunteered that he had already “been run out of Kentucky” for animal neglect.  Per the vet, there were 60 animals on about 30 acres of wooded, brushy pasture.  He had about 30 mini horses and cattle fenced in on ONE HALF ACRE!!!  Dude was feeding them straw.  The vet said there was not even a weed to be eaten in the pasture.  One mare was found dead with her water bag half out because she had died giving birth.  There were three pigs locked in a stock trailer and one was leaning against the wall.. the vet reached in and tried to push him and the pig didn’t even react.  He doubts it will be alive tomorrow.   He’s got the same doubts about one or two of the horses still alive. 

Another horse was found dead with two feet entangled in the fence.    There are three larger work-type horses, 1o minis, and about seven other horses, that may be Shetlands or just very young and malnourished horses.   There are about 20 Scottish Highland cattle that have survived out of the 75 that the guy first brought home last year.

The neighbor that alerted me to this story may have already found a home for the work horses, and someone else may be taking a couple of the minis.  That leaves a lot of horses that need homes!  The sheriff wants to seize them, but has nowhere to take them!

And now I’m the Turkey Killer

About a month ago I found one of my hens alive, but torn up with gashes on her back and all her feathers missing.  I put her in the bunny hutch with Travis and cleaned her wounds as best I could.  She lived on for about 10 days before finally succumbing to her wounds.   Shortly afterwards, I found two more hens with the same type of wounds, but these two were dead already.  I blamed the dogs for those, specifically Thor and Xena who had been out at the time of the deaths.

I caught the true killer in the act yesterday evening.

Major Tom had a hen pinned under his feet, trying to mate with her.  But she was so small that he couldn’t complete the act, so he just kept doing his mating dance on her back.  That is, until I kicked the crap out of him.

 

I put the poor hen out of her misery since she was so torn up that I could see her heart beating.  I couldn’t believe the poor thing was still walking around!

I couldn’t find the hatchet that Glenn usually uses to butcher the chickens, and wasn’t sure I’d be able to catch Tom, hold him down, and chop his head off by myself.   So I pulled out Old Faithful, filled her with shells, and blew Tom to pieces.   I did this with a maniacal grin on my face and saying “be verwy quiet, I’m hunting turkey!” in my best Elmer Fudd voice.

Junior and Stride were in the yard grazing when the gun went off.  Junior took off up the driveway and crossed the road into the neighbor’s pasture.  Stride never even looked up.  Thor and Xena took off behind the house, and Lucky came running to me to see what I had shot.  Silly kitten.

I just hope I don’t have to shoot anything else for a long time.  But at least I’m becoming a pretty good shot and no longer fear the recoil.  Silver lining… :)

I am the Turkey Whisperer

Last year we bought a young Bourbon Red turkey girlfriend for Major Tom the Royal Palm.  Unfortunately, they are both more interested in me than each other.  Major Tom follows me everywhere, strutting his stuff, puffing out his feathers, and thrumming in an effort to get me to do his bidding.  Whatever that might be.  I’m not really sure I want to know.

 

Then there’s the Bourbon Red.  I haven’t come up with a name for her yet, at least not one that I can ever remember when I’m trying to yell at her.

 

She’s with me wherever I go outside.  If I sit down on the ground, she sits behind me, right up against my back.  If I’m in a chair, she’s either jumping into my lap, or sitting on the back of the chair and resting her head on top of mine.  She loves to be petted and stroked and closes her eyes and makes a funny noise when she’s really happy.  Do turkeys “purr”?  I swear that’s what it seems like. 

 

If I’m not paying attention to her, she just plants herself at my feet until I either notice her or trip over her.   I’m waiting for her to start rubbing up against my legs like a cat.

 

When I pick her up, she always cranes her neck around so that her head is up against me.  Please tell me what I’ve done to deserve such annoying unconditional love so that I don’t make the same mistake with the next turkey!

Finally, a happy ending!

When I got back from town with feed this morning there was a message on my machine from the Pleasants County ACO asking for my help in picking up and transporting a rescue back to her place.  I thanked her immensely for not asking me to take the horse and told her I’d be there as soon as I unloaded the truck and hooked up the trailer.

The story on this mare is fairly odd and I have to keep quiet about it.   Suffice it to say she’s got happier days ahead of her now!

She’s about 15 years old and we don’t know her breeding or her history.

 

 

It was obvious the way she jumped into the trailer without being led and backed out on her own as soon as the butt bar was down, that she’s been pretty well trained and used.   But those days are over, thanks to her many arthritic joints and those huge calcified knees.

 

 

Thanks to the ACO’s mom, this mare has many happy years of being a pampered pasture ornament ahead of her!

So Much for Spring Fever

 

It’s group snooze day around here.

 

And I would just love to be curled up snoozing in the sun with Summer right now.  Except it’s cold, windy, and muddy.   So, nevermind.

 

 

I should be starting up with training next week, and will try to keep up with the Training the Unwanted blog.   Sassy and Miles are still my two holdouts, but both are starting to come around and see that I’m not totally evil.  Sassy follows me down to the house after every feeding, braying at me as if to say she’s still hungry and why did I not give her 10 times more food?  Miles allows me to lock him into a standing stall to eat and I’m allowed to touch his head while he’s eating.  Otherwise, he keeps one eye on me at all times, just to make sure I’m not going to turn into a lion and devour him whole.  Next week I’ll try luring him into the round pen at feeding time and see if I can convince him that halters aren’t all that bad.  What fun!

Stress

There are days when I look at my life and wonder how the hell I get through the day.  I’m sure we all have those feelings some days, but we muddle through the best we can and tell ourselves that tomorrow is a new day.

Of course, that new day could bring complaints about horses like this in Monongalia County:

 

Or articles like this.

 

Or a new day could mean coming home to find Calvin dead in the house without any wounds or sign of struggle.  I buried him next to Woogie a couple of hours ago.

 

At least my day started out pretty well.

 

Hopefully, tomorrow really will be a new day and not just a sequel to this one.

Welcome to Spring

Yup, I’m a day late.  Story of my life.  But yesterday, it was as if Mick and Milo both knew it was officially Spring.   They spent about 20 minutes just running back and forth on the ridge, bucking and playing, trying unsuccessfully to get the other horses to run with them.

 

 

 

 

 

I think they’re happy.  But it’s so hard to tell. :)

Calvin Will Never Be the Same

Calvin is normally the BIGGEST feline wimp in the world.  When in the house he stays on a shelf in the kitchen.  He never moves.  Never.  He’s afraid to get down because there are monsters lurking on the floor, just waiting to crunch him up into little monster kibble.  Every morning I have to pick him up and throw his furry butt out the door -- just so he can climb up onto the roof and stay there all day until I come to get him and put him back in.  I’ve tried letting him stay there for days until he comes down on his own, but he just won’t budge until he sees me coming to get him.

Who says cats aren’t high maintenance??

Surprisingly, he actually came out to the garden to help me yesterday.  I was shocked, amazed, and slightly worried.  Was he sick?  Injured?  What could possibly persuade him to leave the relative safety of the roof to walk on the ground?

Then it all became clear.  Calvin had discovered catnip. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s hope this new bravado of his isn’t just a fluke and he starts acting like the mighty hunter that he was born to be.

Because you just never know where the real monsters are hiding.