Baltic Bon Vivant

My best friend Julie (of Reinbow Valley Farm) is trying to reduce her herd numbers, so I thought I'd promote her Swedish Warmblood mare Vivian (Baltic Bon Vivant) on my blog for her. Vivian was born in 2004 and inspected/ approved/ hip-branded by SWANA in 2005. She's a very solidly built mare and an easy keeper. Here is her Warmbloods for Sale ad. There is a video of her on Julie's website.

Vivian is a wonderful mare. I feel honored to have been just the second person to ride her. Even though I'm far from the most experienced equestrian, Vivian took care of me.

Vivian's sire is the SWANA registered, Grand Prix Dressage stallion, L.A. Baltic Sundance. Here is his information on the SWANA website.

L.A. Baltic Sundance, Swedish Warmblood stallion

Vivian's dam was Julie's dressage mount until she was injured and became unrideable. Ursala McMajor was a grey Thoroughbred mare, built like a tank.

Ursala McMajor, Thoroughbred mare

When my sister and her family came to visit, my three year old niece rode in front of Julie on her trusty mount, Vivian. Vivian has been on numerous trail rides. She has packed around children and inexperienced riders. She has also been used to pony my Caly girl when I was trying to get Caly to go down the road for the first time under saddle. She is very responsive and ready for low level dressage competition. She has also been schooling some higher level dressage moves. Here are some more pictures of this awesome mare.

Adorable baby Vivian

Vivian after inspection and branding

Our friend Deb riding Vivian in Sept 2009

My niece Sammie in front of Julie, Sept 2009

Me, driving Vivian July 2009

Pony rides on Vivian and Kate, July 2009

Julie and Vivian at Cunningham Lake, Aug 2009

I had better stop or I'll be posting pictures of Vivian all day! So if you know anyone looking for a talented dressage (or jumping) candidate with a solid educational base, this is your lady! Contact Julie or send me a message for more information.

Phoenix is back up for sale

I'm not ready to post about my beautiful bay girl yet. I'm still trying to distract myself from thinking too much about what happened.

Instead, I am passing the word that the lovely Arabian mare I sold back in August to a lady named Shannon from Adel, IA, is back up for sale. Shannon told me that her situation has changed, and she has to move from the farm she lives on currently with her two girls and three horses. I really appreciated her contacting me to give me the first option of buying back such a sweet mare.

Unfortunately, this is a familiar story in the rough economy we face today. I hope my situation is resolved before I have to seek desperate measures of my own.

I told Shannon I would help in any way I possibly can to find a wonderful home for Phoenix (now Bella). Shannon said there wasn't a rush; she has Phoenix pasture boarded at a friend's house for now. I'm not sure how much she is asking for Phoenix, but if anyone is interested/knows of anyone interested, I can always relay the information.

Basic information on Phoenix:
1999 chestnut Arabian mare
registered AHA as Praire Park Gerri (I know, I know, very unfortunate name)
previous posts with some background/breeding information here and here

This mare really is a nice girl, but she needs a lighter rider (which is why I sold her). A light adult or intermediate child would be great for her. She has been on many trail rides and was bred for endurance. Like most Arabs, she has a lot of "go," so she needs a rider confident enough to handle that. She is very level headed and not spooky at all. Not a mean bone in her body, but she is an alpha mare, so she needs someone assertive enough to remind her of her manners on the ground.

Here are some photos from past trail rides I shared with Phoenix:

Friday Before Mother's Day Ride (FBMDR) 2009, Valparaiso, NE - love the cute fuzzy ears!

Loess Hills Saddle Club Ride, Preparation Canyon (Moorhead, IA), September 2008

Our first trail ride together at Cunningham Lake (Omaha, NE), August 2008

And some pictures from just riding in the area around my house (Julie on Phoenix, me on Zeplin):

June 2009

June 2009

August 2009

So please spread the word! This lady deserves a great home!

A tragic end...

... to the shittiest week of my life. I had my beautiful, sweet Caly euthanized yesterday. She cut her left rear pastern clear through the tendon sheath and into the tendon in a pasture accident (I haven't figured out exactly where/how yet). I can't write much about this now, the pain is still too fresh and raw. I just wanted to make note of the date so that I would never forget it.

Thanks to Janet and Chuck for helping me get Caly to the clinic and staying with me through the heartbreaking desicion. The staff at the Nebraska Equine Veterinary Clinic was wonderful.

I especially want to thank Julie for leaving work to be with me and say her own goodbyes to my gorgeous bay mare. I know you loved her just as much as I did, Julie, and I know you are hurting, too.

Rest in peace, my wonderful Caly girl.

Calypso (Caly) July 31, 2006 - January 22, 2010

When it rains, it pours

I don't want my blog to turn into an endless stream of complaints and issues, so this will just be a brief note on the latest calamities in the catastrophe that is my life. Last night, the truck wouldn't start. Had to find a mechanic who could come out after 8 pm to get it started. Too much rust build up/corrosion on the starter, so the cable wasn't making contact. Got it started by tapping with a hammer. Followed mechanic to his house so he could take the starter off and grind off the rust. Way overpriced, but my truck starts now (but he said I need to get all the rust on the underside of my truck checked out soon). At least I found someone who could work on my truck late in the evening. Didn't get home until after midnight.

When I arrived home (finally), the power was out. No heat, no water (electric pump). I threw the horses their hay and went to bed. Power was still out this morning when I woke up. The electric co-op informed me that they had called in help from around the state and Missouri to try to get everything up and running. Power outtage most likely caused by all the ice build up everywhere. My yard is a sloggy, icy, mucky, manure-covered mess. Melting snow and crunching ice underfoot. Had to dodge ice falling in large chunks from the trees.

No power yet when I left for work--I waited until after eleven because I was hoping to be able to fill the horses's water tank. If I don't have power by the time I get home tonight, I'm going to have to locate a source of water for all of my animals.

Winter can't be over soon enough!!

Having a hay day

This winter it's been problematic trying to find a source of round bales of horse hay that can be delivered. Economically and storage-wise, I prefer to feed the big rounds all winter to my hairy nags. I purchased five bales back at the end of September, but the grower turned out to be very dishonest. He advertised one price, it was more when I called (the advertised price was for "cattle hay" he said), and by the time he reached my house the price had gone up yet again. Delivery cost also had increased from what I was quoted on the phone. The quality of hay wasn't as nice as I was led to believe. Overall, the experience left a very sour taste in my mouth, and I didn't purchase anymore hay from him.

I utilized all of my normal pathways to continue my search for round bales. While I found plenty of big rounds for sale, no one offered delivery. One guy advised that I rent a trailer and pick it up myself. In theory, that doesn't sound too unreasonable. The associated costs add up quickly, however. My truck is only a half ton, so it is certainly not designed to pull more than one heavy round bale at a time without straining the transmission (maybe two if they are smaller). That would mean anywhere from three to five trips back and forth to deliver the hay to my house. The grower's place was located 60 miles south of my house. Any way I looked at it, the logistics didn't pan out.

Meanwhile, with near-record low temperatures and a few blizzards, my furry kids burned through five bales in no time (and what they didn't eat was quickly buried in snow). I needed to pick up the tempo of my fruitless round bale search. I called even more random strangers as well as good friends who also had horses. Have I ever mentioned before that I hate cold calling strange people? Part of my social anxiety.

Having no luck on the big round quest, I contacted the hay guy (Bill) for one of my friends and arranged to have some squares of brome and some of alfalfa delivered to tide me over. I had Bill offload my last batch of hay at the end of the driveway where it was cleared of snow. The ponies were able to break out a couple times by reaching over the electric wire in their desire to raid the hay supply. My electric fence had been rendered useless by piles of snow burying the wire in various locations. My roundpen was also out of commission due to a huge mountainous drift that covered more than 75% of the pen and blocked the gate from closing, so I couldn't shove the horses in there for holding. I'd never seen so much snow since I moved into my house.

I reinforced the area of fence by the hay with a couple more wires. Damn smart ponies.

That hay didn't last long, and I had yet to locate what I needed for the rest of the winter.The ponies had to eat. In desperating I called Bill again, and he had a solution for me. He would bring over his Bobcat and clear out my roundpen so that we could place square bales there, out of the reach of the horses and not tempting them to trample over the fence. Some hay would go in the garage so that it wouldn't spoil in the spring thaw.

If you look up the definition of "lifesaver" in the dictionary, I'm sure you will see Bill's name there.

Bill's word was good as gold. This past Sunday he brought his crew of two nephews and one other relative (can't remember the relation) as well as his cute little four year old boy, Austin. The Bobcat scoffed at the challenges presented by high, heavy snow drifts. In no time at all my roundpen was again functional. Most of the hay fit on a tarp in the garage. It's amazing how quickly the work went by with plenty of help!

Now I'm set for the rest of the winter. It did cost a lot more than using round bales, but I don't have to worry about this hay disappearing under layers of snow. Bill's square bale prices were extremely reasonable for the area, and each bale was very heavy and with sweet-smelling grass. I purchased 2/3rds as grass hay and the other third as alfalfa. If I'm still here next winter, Bill will definitely be my hay guy (although I'll ask him to package rounds for me).

Sometimes life goes flat...

I had every intention of posting about my weekend yesterday. Things changed, however, when I ran over a metal object in the road (a wrench?) on my way to work in the morning. KU-CHUNK!! "Oh, crap!" I thought fleetingly, "I hope that doesn't give me a flat."

Wishful thinking.

Whump, whump, whump, whump! The noise in the cab crescendoed as my front driver's side tire rapidly bled out precious air. Since I was almost at work, I coaxed my limping vehicle to the parking lot and pulled into the first available spot I found. Fortunately, it was at the end of the row, so no one would park next to me.

This is never a welcome site. My truck's full size spare was already in use, having replaced a different flat last March. I had checked over that tire previously and determined the damage was due to a simple nail. An easy fix, it just needed a patch.

Of course, lazy me, I had yet to take the tire in to have it patched.

Now there wasn't a choice. I had to fix up my only other tire. "Well," I thought, "if I get this taken care of quickly, I can still get some work done today."

Haha!!! Keep dreaming, Cindy!!

Murphy's Law states that "anything that can go wrong will go wrong." Hence the flat tire.

However, an little known addendum to Murphy's Law, the Krazy Cindy Clause, adds that "anything that should have a simple fix will always become extremely complicated." Never heard of that clause? Well, let me explain.

My friend Sudhir took me to the tire shop where I purchased my truck's set brand new about a year and a half ago. They told me to come back later in the afternoon, and it would be repaired. We returned, picked up the tire, and I paid for the inexpensive repair.

Sudhir had never changed a flat before, and I only had the pathetic jack and tire iron that came with my truck. Those kits aren't particularly exceptional. I contacted a friend who told me he had a REAL jack and had changed many tires himself. Basically, he was pretty well qualified for a job with NASCAR.

My friend Matt arrived promptly as we were getting back from picking up the tire. He pulled up, jacked up the truck, and expertly removed the cap and lug nuts. So far so good. Matt grasped the wheel firmly and pulled hard.

The tire didn't budge.

Matt exerted more force. Still nothing.

Out came the hammer. Tap, tap, tap all around the rim to try to loosen the wheel's grip on the axel. Another attempt with bare hands to yank the tire free.

Not even a wobble. The tire was fixed fast.

"Do you have any WD-40?" Matt asked. Well, I did at home, but that didn't help any. I tried to think what might be on hand in the truck. "We can try windshield washer fluid," he said.

After dousing the bolts and rim in washer fluid, Matt and Sudhir attempted again to pull off the tire.

A reluctant bovine could've taken lessons from that stubborn tire.

"There might be something in the lab," I told Matt. I tried to think of something I might use at work that could loosen the tire. Maybe the grease for the tissue homogenizer? Sudhir and I drove around to the back of the building and parted ways, each going to search in our respective labs.

Sudhir hit the jackpot with a gallon size container of WD-40 as well as a small spray container. Back to where we had abandoned Matt to wrestle with that damn tire.

We generously applied WD-40 all over the bolts and rim of the tire, anywhere it remained attached to the truck axle. After allowing some soaking time, Matt and Sudhir again tackled the recalcitrant wheel.

Nada.

More tapping with the hammer, liberal spraying of WD-40, and heavily engaged muscle power.

The tire laughed and remained glued to the axle.

Time for the big guns. We wrapped a cloth tow rope around the spokes of the wheel and attached it to the hitch ball of Matt's little Ranger. He slowly accelerated, applying pressure gradually and consistently along the length of the rope.

The jack wobbled and the truck threatened to slide right off its tentative hold. Matt halted his efforts and we regrouped to consider the problem. Matt called his mechanic friend for suggestions.

The solution, said Mr. Mechanic to Matt, was a BFH. Big Fucking Hammer.

As we did not have a BFH with us, just the standard sized one Matt brought, Matt and Sudhir took turns whacking the back of the wheel with our only weapon. After several forceful blows, the tire would be rotated several degrees, and the pounding would resume. Debris and heavy crud loosened and fell from around the rim.

And then... success!! The tire budged a small fraction!

With renewed vigor, Matt and Sudhir continued their assault on my truck's obstinate wheel. Eventually, with much protest on the part of the tire, it parted company with my truck's front axle.

I think all in all it "only" took about an hour and a half to change out the flat tire. So much for Matt's future NASCAR career.

The end result was a freshly patched tire on the truck's axle and a newly destroyed flat in the truck's bed.

Matt and Sudhir, I really appreciated all of your help. Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I don't need it again anytime soon.

My first dogs, part I

Every country-dwelling residence needs at least one dog, right? I grew up with only barn cats, so I hadn't been around dogs much when I moved to Iowa. I didn't have a clue how to train them or how much trouble they could cause. I'd been to a few dog shows with my aunt, who breeds and shows champion AKC Irish Setters. I'd played with my older brother's Cocker Spaniel, Bailey, when I visited him and his wife. That was pretty much it.

My idea of the most beautiful dogs was the breeds with more of a "wolf" look (like Alaskan Malamutes and Siberian Huskies) and German Shepherd Dogs, with their beautiful black masks. I certainly didn't care for yippy little lap dogs or dogs that really didn't even LOOK like dogs (like the hairless rats, the Chihuahuas).

Since I didn't plan on breeding or showing my dog, I checked out Petfinder to find a GSD or GSD mix available for adoption from an animal shelter not too far from where I lived. I made the naive assumption that pretty much any dog from a shelter would have the basic training. Ideally, that's how it would be, but reality is far, far removed from idealism.

First I visited the Nebraska Humane Society, since it was located in Omaha and not too far from work. I found an adorable 5 or 6 month old puppy I wanted to meet online, and I planned to stop by after work one day. I filled out the required forms, and they told me to wait in a visiting room because another family was currently meeting the dog.

Long story short about the NHS (a place I wasn't crazy about anyways because of a previous situation involving a cat I owned who died because they never responded to calls to come help her), I didn't even get to play with the puppy. They wouldn't adopt out a puppy to me because I wouldn't be able to come home every lunch hour to let the pup out to pee. They wouldn't adopt a dog out to me because I wouldn't promise to keep it as a house pet only. It is my view that dogs are primarily outdoor pets. I wanted farm dogs.

Feeling sour about the NHS, I continued my search online for rescue operations with more compatible philosophies to my own. I inquired about a few pets before I saw the photo of Hannah.

Hannah, January 2006

Hannah had the classic GSD face, although she was a mixed breed. She was listed by the Platte Valley Humane Society, which wasn't very close to me. However, I'd checked into everything closer and hadn't found any dogs to peak my interest. I emailed the lady about Hannah, and she didn't have a problem with a dog that lived mainly outdoors.

I drove all the way to just outside Columbus, Nebraska, to meet the puppy. The PVHS didn't have a building; all the dogs lived in foster care. The lady I corresponded with directed me to her house, where many of the dogs for adoption lived. She had an extensive kennel system set up around her house. There were at least twenty dogs, not including her personal pets.

Hannah definitely was a sweet girl and loved attention. She and her sister, Tasha, came from an abusive situation. They were about 7 months old when the lady picked them up, but she couldn't adopt them out for several months while the sheriff investigated the case. Now they were about 11 months old.

Tasha differed greatly from her sister. Hannah weighed at least ten pounds more than her little black sister. Tasha, while clearly part GSD, appeared shorter and stockier. I'm pretty sure they had different fathers (it's possible for puppies from the same litter to have different sires).

Tasha, April 2006

Tasha huddled in a little ball as far away from me as possible. She perked up her ears when the lady called her, but she remained at a distance. The lady caught her while I waited and brought both Hannah and Tasha to the garage so I could visit with them.

Hannah enjoyed visiting. Tasha trembled and hid behind the lady she knew. Her eyes showed wariness and some fear but no aggression. They had suffered beatings as little puppies, growing up in a trashy trailer park before being rescued a few months prior.

I elected to adopt both so they would have each other for company while I worked.

I signed the paperwork and wrote a check for the small adoption fee. Hannah hopped right into my small blue Ranger, but Tasha needed coaxing. On the drive home, Tasha cowered on the passenger seat next to the window, as far away from me as possible. Hannah lay next to me, drooling on the upholstery. She threw up once all over the floor.

That was only the beginning of the excitement to come with two wild pups.

To be continued...

Starting ponies under saddle

Warmer temperatures this week have me dreaming of spring, my favorite time of year. This afternoon we actually reached 40 F!! Snow is melting, but that means possible black ice on the roads tonight when we drop back down below freezing. I'm inside, wishing I could actually feel the sun on my face. Spring can't get here soon enough!

Last spring I had four horses needing attention, three of whom had never been ridden. Phoenix was my "go to" horse as the only one with any experience.

I first sat on Zeplin's hairy back on Easter Sunday when my friend Sudhir brought his buddy Anil out to meet the ponies. Zeplin had just turned three in March. Sudhir held Mr. Fuzzball for me while I mounted. I sat there for a few minutes, had Sudhir lead him forward a few steps, sat there again, then I dismounted and called it good. Zeplin was bewildered about the whole affair. It wasn't long, however, before we were taking solo trips farther and farther away from the "safety" of the herd.

First time on Zeplin's back, Apr 2009 (Sudhir holding him)

My first time on Jazzy's back was in May. Julie led her around while I acted as "passive" passenger. The second time I climbed on her, this time with no one else around, she didn't want to move forward when I squeezed my legs. I urged her with a little more pressure but still nothing. After asking the third time, I wielded my crop, prepared to tap her on her generous rump for added motivation. She began to back up. I thought, "Ok, at least we have some motion." Then she folded her legs under her and sank straight down to the ground!

At first, I thought maybe something was wrong. Nope, perfectly healthy and sound mare under me! I hopped off and smacked Jazzy hard on the butt with the crop. That certainly captured her attention, and she surged back to her feet. I climbed back on, once again asking her forward with a gentle squeeze. She started backing again, but I would have none of that! Whap onto her butt, and we moved forward. After that she didn't give me any more sass. I didn't allow her to even think about backing until I was sure that she wouldn't try such a stunt again.

Jazzy moving out nicely in July 2009

Caly didn't turn three until July. Putting time on the other three horses kept me extremely busy when I had time away from work that summer. I finally set aside time in August for starting her under saddle. As with Jazzy, I had Julie lead me around a little, and then I slid off her back. Riding solo, she became "sticky" and didn't have much forward motion. Julie assisted with this problem. I had her pony Caly from Vivian with me as a passive passenger until I felt Caly would move freely on her own. Now Caly has plenty of "go!" Her Arab side has truly come out in a very pleasant manner.

Caly before our first solo ride, Aug 2009

That brings me back to the present and thoughts of the future. This spring I have three greenies to condition and continue their education under saddle (unless Caly sells before then). Each of them presents different challenges but also different strengths.

I feel lucky to have such wonderful, willing ponies as my own :-)

Feed a rescue horse

If you have a website or blog, check out this link for more information on how you can feed a rescue horse at NorCal Equine Rescue for two weeks. Thanks to Jessie of Rose Valley Ranch for passing on the information. Here's to the horses!!

After Caly's first big trail ride, Sept 2009 (can you pick her out?)

Memories of Russia through music

An email conversation with a friend, about obscure music we enjoy, caused me to reminisce about some of the Russian music I listened to while in Veliky Novgorod many many years ago (wow am I ever getting old!). I studied in this historic, beautiful city with nine other college classmates in the summer of 2000.

The most popular album of the summer was the soundtrack to Brat 2. I never saw the movie, but I heard that it was kind of the Russian version of Pulp Fiction. This was obviously the sequel to the immensely popular movie Brat ("Brother"). A person couldn't walk by the kremlin and across the pedestrian bridge into Yaroslav's Court without hearing that cd blasting from some shashlik vendor's stereo (sidenote: I'll have to do an entire post on the experience that was shashlik).

The easiest song for non-native speakers (such as myself) to learn from the soundtrack was called "Sekret" by Agata Kristi. The lyrics were extremely repetitive and the whole song basically asked, "Do you love me or not?" I could still sing that part now and it's been ages since I studied or regularly spoke Russian.

On the same album "Iskala" ("I've been searching") turned me on to the talented singer Zemfira. I purchased her cd Prosti Menya, Moya Lyubov ("I'm sorry, my love"). I haven't figured out the meaning of all of the songs yet, but I definitely dig the music.

Pirated cds of prominent American artists abounded on the streets of many Russian cities. I met one boy, Sergei (about 12 or 13 years old), who spoke excellent English and loved Metallica. He owned quite the collection of pirated American music.

While living in Russia, I attended a DDT concert. I forget who opened for them. I don't even remember how we came upon the tickets--I think one of our Russian friends obtained them for us.

It's common for fans to camp out hours before the start of such a huge event here, and the same held true in Russia. Once the security guards opened the heavy iron gates, the throng surged forward, carrying me with it. I felt crushed on all sides. Rabid devotees, many extremely inebriated, pushed and shoved in their rush to reach the stage first. The current of humans pressing around me dragged me into the venue almost involuntarily.

The concert was performed in a large soccer stadium with the stage set up on the field. About fifty feet away from the stage were cold bleachers. Between these structures the "pit" writhed with exuberant and intoxicated groupies.

I didn't understand a word blaring from the loudspeakers far away, but that didn't matter. I was caught up in the excitement of the now. Cheering fans, squealing guitars, thundering drums, and I was one with the crowd. For the blink of an eye I belonged, no longer a foreigner but an accepted part of Russian culture. The blanket of roaring rock music that crashed over us in unending waves of energy was the bond that held us all together in that moment.

While details of the event itself fade over time, the incredible overall impact of the experience remains with me to this day. I bought two DDT cds to commemorate this unforgettable chapter in my life. From time to time I'll pull them out and smile, allowing my mind to wander back to that long ago summer.

First time horse ownership, part V

Zeplin

I made my way through knee high grass and weeds and down the rutted path towards the location where I spotted Zeplin's chestnut tobiano coat. He stood still at my approach, clearly exhausted and soaked in sweat, head drooped past his knees. His blonde mane stuck in soggy clumps to a glistening wet neck. Zeplin wore a bright red, brand-new, yearling-size halter that hung loosely over his young Arab head, to which I attached the first leadrope.

The miniature gelding, Chester, appeared from the brush nearby. I caught him handily and attached a second leadrope to his small green halter. His sides heaved rapidly from exertion, but he remained upbeat and energetic.

I led both of my errant boys past my motorcycle and onto the gravel road towards home. We were about six miles away from the house. I'm not sure how long our journey lasted. Poor baby Zeplin had clearly been pushed past his endurance. He wanted to stop again and again, refusing to budge when I tugged on the lead. I realized that if I dropped the line and continued walking Chester, the colt would stand his ground for awhile, and then rush to catch up so he wouldn't be left by himself.

The sun burned brightly on my neck as we reached our yard. I offered the boys water, then put them back in their pen with a happy Eddie. Eddie brayed a welcome to his best buddy, which perked little Chester right up and added spring to his step.

I rested for a moment and contemplated my next move. Now I had to retrieve my motorcycle as well as the other three horses. I dreaded walking the distance over and over, but that seemed to be my only choice.

As I grabbed the leads and headed down the driveway again, a green Chevy truck pulled up to me. The driver rolled the window down, and I stepped up to address the white-haired gentleman behind the wheel.

"Hey, I noticed that you have horses now," the man began.

"Well, I did," I replied, my frustration creeping into my voice. "They ran off last night, and I have to go back and get the others." I gestured to the fence behind me where Zeplin, Chester, and Eddie were happily munching on hay.

"Do you need some help?" the man offered. The lady with him smiled at me as I nodded silently. "Hop in!" he replied, indicating the crew door on the passenger's side.

Gratefully, I slid into the dark leather bench seat. "My name's Dennis," the man said. He introduced his lady friend as well, but for the life of me I cannot remember her name anymore. "Do you know where they are?"

"Yes, they are in a farmer's field by the river," I answered. I directed him while he drove.

Before we reached my abandoned bike, I looked down a dirt lane between two corn fields and saw Phoenix's shiny red body. "There they are!" I pointed. "I'll walk down and grab them then we can take them home."

 It took some effort to capture my reluctant mares. I only found Jazzy and Phoenix; Caly was nowhere in site. Jazzy still had very little human interaction and had not yet been halter trained. My only chance at getting the wild mare home was by catching the alpha Arabian mare first.

Phoenix played hard-to-get for awhile, trotting up and down rows of growing soybeans whenever I neared. I finally snagged her and attached the lead to her halter. Once caught she followed me willingly back down the dirt track towards the waiting truck.

Jazzy whinnied after us. She didn't want me to halter her, but she feared being left behind. I handed Dennis Phoenix's lead then softly approached Jazzy again.

Finally, Jazzy allowed me to to pull her heavy nylon halter over her face and buckle it around her poll. All fight left her, and she walked behind me quietly to where my new friends waited.

Dennis put down the tailgate of the truck and motioned for me to sit there. "We'll each hold a horse's lead and she can drive," he said, nodding towards his female companion. "If you need her to slow down, just holler at her."

The truck pulled forward slowly. I held Jazzy's lead, and felt it go taut when the vehicle moved. At first she resisted, then she gave to the pressure and began walking.

Whereas Phoenix paced briskly behind the truck, head up and ears pricked, Jazzy stumbled tiredly, dragging her feet along the gravel road. Several times, I indicated to Dennis that we were going too fast for Jazzy. Numerous times, when Jazzy slowed to the point of almost stopping, I would hop off the back of the truck and walk her by hand. Dried sweat clung to her copper-colored coat, and her flazen mane hung limply over her sagging neck.

Along the way, Dennis decided we should take a break to offer the mares water. There were only two houses along the road, but he knew the owner of one. Kevin was an area farmer who lived alone in his old white farmhouse. I learned from Dennis that Kevin had his driver's license revoked after too many DUI arrests, so now he took his combine into town for transportation.

Fortunately, Kevin was sympathetic to our needs, and I was able to offer my girls cool water from a dog bowl under the hydrant in his yard. They drank deeply, barely giving us time to refill the bowl before plunging steamy muzzles back into the water. After a few refills, we gently tugged them away from the bowl to continue our trip home.

I think it's safe to say that Jazzy was well broke to halter and lead by the time we finally reached my yard.

Phoenix and Jazzy joined the boys, burying their noses deep in the hay. Dennis and his friend gave me a lift back to my bike so I could continue my search for Caly. "Give us a call if you need anything," he told me before they left.

Jazzy

Hot, worn out and worried, I climbed back on the blue motorcycle. I compressed the clutch, grabbed the brake and pushed in the electric start button. My bike roared back to life.

To be continued...

Today's entertainment

This was posted on my Yahoo horse group. It's been around for awhile, but I hadn't seen it before. Very appropriate for the weather we've had lately. Author unknown.

Diary of a Snow Shoveler...

December 8 - 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9 - We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a more lovely place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years and felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. Tthis afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12 - The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry; we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.

December 14 - Snow lovely snow! Eight inches last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish l wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15 - Twenty inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and 2 extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska , after all.

December 16 - Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour which I think was very cruel.

December 17 - Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for 5 hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20 - Electricity' s back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Goddamn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22 - Bob was right about a white Christmas because 13 more inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt till August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel and then I had to piss. By the time I got undressed, pissed, and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel. Tried to hire Bob who has a plow on his truck for the rest of the winter but he says he's too busy. I think the asshole is lying.

December 23 - Only 2" of snow today. And it warmed up to 0. The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What is she, nuts?! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did but I think she's lying.

December 24 - Six inches. Snow packed so hard by snowplow, l broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the son of a bitch who drives that snow plow I'll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at a hundred miles an hour and throws snow all over where I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the goddamn snowplow.

December 25 - Merry fucking Christmas! Twenty more inches of the goddamn slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a frickin' idiot. If I have to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.

December 26 - Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27 - Temperature dropped to -30 and the pipes froze, plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him, he only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28 - Warmed up to above -20. Still snowed in. THE BITCH is driving me crazy!!!

December 29 - Ten more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?

December 30 - Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver and he is now suing me for a million dollars---not only for the beating I gave him but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine inches predicted.

December 31 - I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8 - Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. Why am I tied to the bed?

New feature!

Below my profile and interesting links you will now find a dose of cuteness to brighten your day. Welcome to The Daily Puppy feature! Dedicated to my good friend Erick who really wants a puppy but isn't quite ready for the commitment. You'll get your furry bundle of joy and mischief someday, Erick.

Enjoy!

What's another storm?

My drive to work on Wednesday wasn't horrendous, but plows kept only one lane of the interstate open while the snow was flying. I didn't press my luck attempting to pass extremely slow motorists in the slick passing lane. Already some cars had slid off the road.

I waited to leave work until well after "rush hour," hoping that most of the traffic would've cleared by then. Roads weren't a problem in town so long as one used common sense and drove accordingly. After crossing the Missouri River into Nebraska, the roads appeared clear--but looks can be deceiving. I averaged about 40 mph driving home. Anytime I sped up a little, I could feel the back of the truck starting to slide, especially when I reached open interstate without hills or trees around to block the wind. Cars and semis roared by me, but I didn't care. The cars I passed in the ditches appeared to have met the ground with some violence. Most of them rested on their sides or completely flipped over, instead of merely slipping off the road.

Yesterday I stayed home from work. The wind screamed constantly all day, building drifts and closing the road in front of my house yet again. The sun was shining, but its brilliant, cheerful rays belied bitter cold windchills and breathtakingly low temperatures.

Sad as it sounds, though, I would've rather been at work. My house feels like an ice palace. I couldn't even run the dishwasher, and I think it's because the water hose is frozen. Fortunately, I haven't had frozen pipes since I added foam insulators around them a couple years ago (knock on wood). Prior to that, even leaving the sink cupboards open and letting the faucet drip didn't prevent freeze because the air in my kitchen didn't feel much warmer than the outside.

The horses huddled around my house, shielded from the wind as much as possible. I supplied them with tons of grass hay, extra alfalfa hay, and an extra serving of grain (Purina Omolene 200). I also offered them warmed water periodically throughout the day so that they didn't have to brave the wind to seek out their water tank. Quimby whined and grumbled whenever I sent her outside to do her business. We all survived!!

Today the plow freed me from my chilly prison. The wind had died down sometime over night. The horses played in the snow, feeling frisky and happy to stretch their legs again. I pulled a three inch thick sheet of ice from the top of their water tank to allow them access. I fed them in the normal location rather than right by the house.

On my drive I didn't keep count of the cars flung from the road haphazardly. There were certainly many more than when I returned home Wednesday night. The interstate was clean and clear of black ice.

A few (local) photos from various news sources:

The best winter exercise: sledding

It's snowing. Again. The wind is supposed to pick up later, causing white out conditions. Again. The THIRD blizzard of the winter. Usually we average maybe one big blizzard a winter. This is only the beginning of JANUARY!!

In an effort to combat cabin fever this past weekend, I headed over to Julie's house to go sledding with her. As I've mentioned previously, there just aren't any hills around me. That certainly doesn't make for prime sledding conditions.

I didn't have a sled, and neither did Julie, so I stopped in the town near where she lives to pick up a couple for us to use.

Do you know the definition of the word extortion? Apparently Pamida (the store) does.

Extortion would be charging $20 for a PLASTIC MOLD SLED. Not even one with a handle!! Just a flimsy plastic toboggan! Maybe I'm out of touch with sled prices, but this really seemed outrageously overpriced. I think they can get away with that kind of pricing because the nearest competitor is at least 15 miles away if not more. They were correct in surmising that I had no plans to venture far out of the way to find a sled.

Later, I checked on Amazon.com and found 3 sturdier looking sleds for $35 (sold as a pack). Still steep but not as bad. Shipping would be a bitch, though.

I settled for the "cheap" plastic runner-type sled with two holes for your hands. They were too short, only a couple of feet long, but we would make do. They were $4 each (still a rip-off in my opinion). I just can't spare $40 to buy a couple of crummy toboggans!

Julie's pasture has seen a lot more snow this winter than most of my yard. The trek up the hill proved difficult. Neither of us is in the best of shape. We took turns forging a path through the sometimes waist-high drifts, taking several breaks to catch our breath. The person following had it easier. Julie's little Mini Schnauzer, Tyler, cheerfully bounced along behind us. He looked like he was swimming, with powdery snow fleeing beneath his woolly feet.

At the apex of the hill, Julie and I stood in knee deep snow and viewed the slope below us. We had no point of reference, and so we couldn't judge the depth of the white blanket. We positioned our plastic runners and sat back, using our hands to shove ourselves downward.

The first trip, I only made it about twenty feet or so before a burgeoning mound of snow plowed up by the sled halted my progress. Julie had similar luck. I pushed myself down a few more feet, then decided I should climb back up the hill and build momentum to blast a little further through the fluffy, cold blockade a little more.

Climbing back up through virgin snow sapped away more energy. I could feel my heart rate increase with the effort. The experience certainly was proving to be an excellent form of aerobic exercise! Sliding down again, my track increased by a few more feet.

I glanced back up the hill to see Julie roaring down. Her legs were bent at the knee, her flailing feet in the air, and the plastic sheet was held by gloved hands between her thighs like a giant blue diaper. Tyler flew after her as fast as his furry legs could move, slinging snow along the way.

I collapsed on the ground, holding my sides and shaking with laughter at the sight. Gasping for breath, I inhaled a large mouthful of powdery snow. "You look like you're wearing a diaper!" I wailed at Julie between fits of hilarity.

Julie found it just as funny, and the rest of the afternoon we joked about wearing our "Depends" on the slope.

We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, but we had to work hard for every foot of ground gained down the hill. After awhile, we had laid the start of a decent sledding path, but my feet were soaked and nearly frozen. I still need decent winter boots.

Before heading into the house to thaw, Julie and I spent some time with her herd of five.

I stayed for dinner and watched a couple of episodes of Moonlight with my wonderful friend. In case you haven't seen Moonlight, it is a television series about a vampire who is a private detective. The actor who plays the vampire is very, very sexy. Most of the acting was horrible, but I personally wasn't watching it for the acting ;-)

Provided we aren't snowed in this weekend, Julie and I hope to go out again and expand our sledding range.

Tyler, incognito

State of confusion

Uncertainty a daily companion

Each hour brings me closer

The Crucial Moment

Existing in darkness

I rarely see the sun

Mind is fuzzy

Eyes are weary

Constantly frozen by fear

What will happen?

My grip on the present

Slipping, fading, falling

No ground beneath my feet

Reaching out, grasping

My fingers stretch to hold

White with strain

Numb from cold

Hoping for the far off dawn

(Photo by Julie Abbott, Reinbow Valley Farm)

Zeplin the pest

*Warning* Lengthy and photo rich post ;-)

I looked out my window the other morning (before my camera declared itself on strike) and observed what seemes to be a rather common occurrence when it comes to my goofy gelding and the head mare, Jazzy.

I've mentioned before that Zeplin is an instigator. He loves to attempt to initiate play with the girls, even if they aren't receptive to his overtures.

Jazzy tends to be extremely lazy and won't move if she doesn't feel the need. I suppose Zeplin takes that as a challenge. What can I do to make Jazzy follow through on her threats to me? he thinks.

Jazzy was minding her own business, standing next to the house to keep out of the wind. She was probably also searching for grain that had spilled the prior evening during feeding (When it's this cold out I just call them to the front step and put their feedbags on from there. Yes, I suffer from my own touch of lazy. Hey, why not if I can do it? :-P). Zeplin moseyed on up to her, looking innocent.

Jazzy ignored the Spotted Boy Wonder as he approached. Zeplin deliberately reached his muzzle out and nipped at her cheek. Jazzy was nonplussed, but tried to keep her peace.

Zeplin persisted and Jazzy's ire increased. She pinned her ears back and grabbed for the annoying gelding's neck. Her feet remained planted and Zeplin merely avoided her grasping teeth. By now, Caly was observing the scene with pinned ears of her own.

Zeplin didn't seem to be deterred at all. He continued pestering Jazzy relentlessly.

In spite of Jazzy's efforts, Zeplin remained steadfast in his determination to rile her.

 Jazzy finally made Zeplin move his front feet...UP!

However, the Problem (aka Zeplin) still wasn't going anywhere!

Time for drastic measures!

She was moving! She really meant it!

Mouth opened wide...

...CHOMP!!!

Ok, I'm going, I'm going!!

Jazzy could finally relax...

...Don't you start anything Caly!! I've had enough!
Jazzy was understandably irritable.

Caly decided to split...but look who is coming back!

I'm warning you, Boy!! You better not come close!

It took ONE...

...TWO...

...THREE kicks...

..for the Problem to finally settle his interests elsewhere.

Boys!!