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...