Vetting Horses

Sorry the prior post was all over the board. I should have gone on to say that while I am sad that we lost Pretty Kitty, I wasn't that attached to the cat. It can be said that I'm a dog person. I enjoy the 24/7 companionship I get from my dogs; their unconditional love. Cats? Not so much. While I enjoy having cats around the farm, I am not keen on having them indoors. But I'm a softy and when it gets so cold out, I feel better when they are inside, too. And that little one-eyed Mickey kitty has tugged at the heart strings a bit.

But about the horses….

A few weeks ago, my friend, Anita, found a skunk in her corral. It was literally between her horse's legs, biting at the pasterns. She quickly shot the skunk and called the vet. The skunk would be tested for rabies, but she was to assume it was rabid and take appropriate precautions. Luckily, her horses were all vaccinated for rabies, although she was advised to vaccinate them again that day.

I've always been good about vaccinating the horses each year with what I deem appropriate vaccines for this area. However, last year was the first year I ever vaccinated for rabies. In retrospect, that should be one of the top things I vaccinate for as it is always fatal. When I heard about Anita's horse being attacked by a skunk, I quickly checked my records to see when it was time to revaccinate, as horses need boostered once a year. I was surprised to find Windy was past due; the others were due this next month. Windy always seems to get on a different schedule; she travels more, so I use the vet more often with her because she needs health papers more frequently and sometimes it is just easier to have him do it all. Most often, though, we buy the vaccines from the local vet supply store and administer the shots to our horses.

The rabies vaccine can be purchased at the veterinary supply store. A 10 ml vial costs $22 and will vaccinate all five of my horses. It is probably one of the most inexpensive vaccines. We picked up a vial along with the other shots and today was vetting day in the barn. The weather was cold and damp and the wind blowing. The horses were all fresh but settled down to get their shots. And I am glad to have all 5 of them on the same schedule now.

Please consider vaccinating your horse for rabies or at a minimum, visit with your vet about the risks. Anita could have lost all her horses the day the rabid skunk entered her corral had they not been vaccinated for protection against rabies.

Vetting Animals

Today's blog was supposed to be about vetting the horses. But when I started writing it, it took a weird turn and before I knew it, I was telling you about my dog, Macy, that I lost in 1998. Although I was truly devastated at the time (and still am), having her illness hit so suddenly, I found myself three paragraphs into the Macy story when I realized I would never get back to what I wanted to talk about today. It's kind of like when I go out to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and notice the kid's socks on the floor and pick them up and take to the laundry room and then see the laundry from two days ago is still in the dryer. So I start to fold those and decide I should start another load. So then I start wondering from bedroom to bedroom picking up clothes to complete the load and stop at the computer on the way through to check email and then before I know it, the coffee I poured 40 minutes ago is now cold and long forgotten.

Now if you are still with me after that paragraph, I congratulate you for hanging with me. And the true intent of this post had to do with rabies and horses but somehow, I got sidetracked on the cats. So let's go with it.

Tom was born in a feed bag the same month and year as Windy. So that makes him 9 this year. A neutered tom cat, he stays outside mostly and will come in the house every few weeks for a little human comfort and warmth and then off he goes again. The longest he was ever gone was probably over a week; long enough that I noticed. He came back skinny and weak. Spent several weeks in the house and then was off again.

A few years ago, we had this kitty hanging around. He was a black and white tuxedo kitty and very, very pretty. We appropriately named him Pretty Kitty. It took a while for the kids to catch him, even longer for them to tame him. We had him neutered and treated for some bad congestion and he stayed inside any chance he got.

The other cat is Mickey, the one-eyed cat. He came wondering out of the cornstalks and into our family. Another male, another clipping (you'd think those boys would learn!). Mickey lives in the barn most of the time, but comes in on cold days. He is laying behind me on the wing chair as I type.

The there are the dogs: Maddie, Ritz and Bo. I think you are familiar with them – they seem to be more blogworthy than their feline counterparts.

Okay, where was I going with this? Vetting.

Last week or so, Pretty Kitty was once again going through respiratory problems which had plagued him most of his life. Treatment would work for a little while and then he would get all congested and snotty again. Truth be told, he wasn't very pretty when he was like this. This last bout was worse; he was listless and wouldn't eat. I decided he had suffered enough and called the vet to take him in to be euthanized. I realized at the time, the dogs were in need of vaccines, too. So I put Pretty Kitty in a laundry basket and loaded the dogs in the Durango and made the short trip to the vet. He gave Pretty Kitty a sedative first and then went to the car to take care of the dogs. (We are pretty casual with our vetting here.) And then we went back in and put Pretty Kitty to sleep. Being a lifelong pet lover, it was the first time I ever watched euthanasia.

There was a point to this post - and it was horse related. But I realize now I have missed it and once again, my coffee is cold.

Life on the Farm

Having missed the arctic blast, I arrived home to a chilly, but fair, 22 degrees. The only casualty from this last weather assault was the death of our rooster. Since he made it through the winter of hell (2010), I can only surmise that he meet his demise by hoof, not climate – most likely that of Butter, who I saw go after him on more than one occasion. I can’t say I blame Butter, if she was truly the perp, as he was a mean rooster. He had become a somewhat infamous barnyard icon around here making his mark on more than one of my kids’, their friends’ or cousins’ legs. He will be missed, for no other reason than we were so used to walking softly around him to avoid an unprovoked attack.

And for those who wonder if perhaps Bo finally got his rooster? He’s got an alibi. It happened overnight when Bo was tucked warmly in the house.

Ritz has become such a pest when I am grooming or saddling the horses, his impatience showing by circling my work area, trying to herd me along. So yesterday, when I tied Windy up to saddle, I also put a lead rope on Ritz and tied him to a post. I ignored his crying while I took no more than 5 minutes to quickly brush the grime off Windy and toss on her saddle. When I turned my attention back to Ritz, I noticed him wrapped in the lead rope with it in his mouth. “Cute,” I thought, as I pulled out my Blackberry to snap a picture of him. Before I could put the camera away, Ritz had gnawed through that lead rope and was free. I guess he showed me. Ah-ha! We’ll see how well he works a chain next time! Brat dog!

It was nearing 45 degrees and the big thaw was on. I picked out some dry spots in the pasture, driveway and arena to ride, but quickly bored of the mud and the muck and a somewhat feisty mare. When I came in to grab a bite to eat, I had an email from a friend, Mary, who was riding at her place not far from me and asked if I wanted to join her. She didn’t have to ask twice. I hooked up my trailer, loaded my horse and drove the short 20 miles to meet her at her home.

Mary’s rides and drives Morgan horses and has a good eye for horse flesh. She had her gelding, Duke, tied to the hitching post when we arrived. He is coming off an injury from last season and she is slowly trying to get more time on him now that he is sound. I saddled and we headed over the the CRP land across the road, blasting through some pretty deep snow drifts. When we got back onto the road, I noticed Duke had a cut on his foot, so we took him back and she quickly saddled her mare, Sarah, and we rode off once again.

This time we rode through the cornfields, the dirt (muddy) roads and up an old railroad bed. The wind was getting stronger, but the sun felt good on both our backs and for our disposition. My mare had settled down and I got the good ride I was looking for. We looped our way back through her nearly unincorporated home town, riding down its main street. We rode just shy of two hours, beating the sunset by only a half an hour or so.

I have decided I am going to send Windy over to my trainer, Brenda Messick, for a few weeks this spring. There are some things I would like fine tuned with her that I know Brenda can help with. It’s always fun to have someone else work with your horse, especially when they come back better as a result of such training.

Missing

It's been a week of back to back events that leave little time at home. Go to work, go to a basketball game. Go work work, go to a school concert. Go to work, go to a basketball game. I swear the schools try to kill the parents the last week before Christmas. And for good measure, the Big Fat Lying Weatherman throws in an ice storm just to keep things interesting.

We came home last night, after the last basketball game of the season, and I noticed tracks on the icy/snowy driveway. I commented to Case that I hoped those were dog tracks, but stopped and opened the door to the Durango and looked closer. Granted, the ground is hard ice, but I was pretty sure I was looking at horse tracks. Damn!

I ran into the house and changed shoes and headed to the barn. The gate to the corral was closed, which was a good sign, but there wasn't a horse to meet me, which was unusual. I walked toward the barn, praying they were huddled inside, but it was quiet. I turned on the light to find the barn empty.

Case and I jumped back in the Durango. After the last escape, I keep a couple halters and leads in the back. We followed the tracks out of the drive and across the gravel road. They appeared to have gone into the cornfield or the alfalfa field – it was hard to see in the dark and with the corn stubble and alfalfa, it was anyone's guess. John started driving the perimeter of the corn field and me, the alfalfa field. John called and had picked up their tracks in the cornfield, so I headed that direction, too. In the meantime, I called the sheriff to see if anyone reported seeing any horses. "No," he said. And told me he would make note of it in case anyone called.

It was so dark. John went north; I went west until I came to a fence line. As I followed it around, I saw what appeared to be a figure in the middle of the field. Yes, there they were. I didn't want to spook them and have them run toward the road & ultimately toward the highway, so I tried to stay in front of them. I stopped a distance away and started to talk to them through the window, calling them by name. Initially, they trotted away and we followed, keeping a safe distance. I then got out and walked toward them, continuing to talk to them. I reached Blue first and attempted to slip on the halter.

When I put halter and leads in the trunk of the Durango, I grabbed older ones that I didn't use much. Crap. I must not have checked for size because no way, no how was this one going on Blue's big head. Ginger had worked her way up and she can be skittish about being caught, but I had to get one of the herd bosses, Blue or Ginger, to get the rest to follow. Luckily, Ginger waited while I put my arm over her neck and slipped the halter on.

We started to make our way back across the field; I was leading Ginger, the herd following and Case behind the herd in the Durango, the headlights helping me to see a little better. The snow and ice on the ground helped, too, but the field was rough. It wasn't easy going. Then, something spooked the herd. They started to rush past me. It took a moment for me to realize what I was hearing with the sound of the ice and the cornstalks and I didn't have time to react. Ginger pulled from my grasp. When I tried to pull her in, I slipped on the ice and went down hard on my back. I heard horse hooves near me and then they were gone.

I slowly got up and looked for my shoe – somehow it had slipped off in the struggle. Man, did I hurt. I heard every vertebra in my neck pop upwards and felt the familiar tinge of pain in the tailbone, an old injury that had finally stopped hurting last spring. I slowly got up, caught my breath and Case pulled up next to me in the Durango and I got in. The horses had run into the night toward the road. I called John and gave him the new destination and prayed they went to the next field and not toward the highway. I was relieved to find them in the cornfield across the road.

I told John that Ginger still had a halter and lead on; I grabbed the other one and started walking toward them. I had Butter's attention and she met me halfway. I easily slipped the halter on her and John caught up with Ginger. The other horses fell in behind and we started the slow procession back to the corral.

I never worry too much when they are in the corral. It is pretty secure with the high panels interlocked and then each wrapped with wire. But, evidently not secure enough for a panicked draft horse. We surmise she was scratching her hind end on the panels and her tail became tangled in the wire. She must have freaked and in her struggle to free herself, brought down the panel. We found a big strand of her tail hair hanging on the panel.

As much as I damn the snow and ice, in this case, it was in my favor. Had I not seen the tracks, I wouldn't have realized the horses were out until daylight today. They probably would have stayed in that cornfield but you never know. I'm glad I didn't have to find out.

Barnyard Shots

It's the shortest day of the year! It's all uphill from here on out!

Our holidays begin this weekend with my family coming up. Prime rib is primed, two different soups are in the crock pot. McCain has a recital this afternoon. There won't be much time to post until things quiet down.

Here are some pictures I took over the last week. The snow still lingers, but it has warmed up to the 20's. As miserable as the weather feels, it makes for nice pictures.

Revelry

Most of August, I have slept with the window open. I love hearing the night sounds; even the sound of the highway is comforting. And now that I have chickens, I hear the roosters in the morning. As they get bigger, their “cock-a-doodle-doo” is more robust.

This morning, I am in that half-awake state. The alarm hasn’t gone off yet, but something has awoken me. I hear it again. It’s farting and it's not coming from John’s direction. Our Springer Spaniel, Maddie, is usually sleeping on the floor at the bottom of the bed but maybe she has moved next to me. I reach down to feel for her and she isn’t there. Surprisingly, there is no smell either. A few minutes pass and I hear another fart. My gosh, can is it the boys? Can I hear them farting from their rooms?

I dozed back off until the alarm went off and after hitting the snooze button a few times, I finally rolled out of bed. I look outside as I always do to catch a glimpse of the impending sunrise, too dark now at this time to see the horses clearly in the pasture. Then I hear a fart again! I look down. My small herd of horses has gathered outside my bedroom window. Two lying down; I can’t make out which ones. Butter and Ginger are standing up. As I watch from the window, Butter lifts her tail slightly and passes gas. What a way to wake up.

Couldn’t help thinking…. you might be a horseperson if, you wake up to horse farts outside your bedroom window.

Fresh Salsa

This blog is not about home & gardens. So I apologize in advance for going off topic. But I thought this was worth it.

I try to stay out of the kitchen as much as possible. John is by far the better cook in our family. But it is August and if you are like me, you have some fresh produce. So I really want to share a quick salsa recipe with you.

A little history. The Pioneer Woman has become a sort of cult hero in our house. If I even breath her name while standing at the stove, the kids know whatever we are having is going to be good. And don’t think I’m lying! I am 48 years old and never ate a sweet potato in my life until The Pioneer Woman introduced us to her way of doing sweet potatoes. And now the kids say sweet potatoes are their favorite food. And they are pretty high on my list, too. Who’d of thunk?

The Pioneer Woman recently launched a new website called Tasty Kitchen. This is compiled of recipes submitted by her readers. I’ve become quite a fan in short time, as I have found some "little work" recipes. Although they aren’t technically “Pioneer Woman” recipes, I just tell the kids they are & they eat it.

But back to the salsa. It's awesome and easy and fresh and sassy! Don't get all nervous - you don't can it. It makes about 3 pints; just enough to put in your refrigerator. We put a jar in our cooler and take camping with us. If your family is anything like mine, you’ll be through it in a week. All you need is a blender or food processor and quart or pint sized jars with lids (mayonnaise jars work).

Fresh Salsa (or Fresco as John calls it)
1 large can of whole peeled tomatoes OR
6 or 8 small peeled tomatoes from your garden
1 green bell pepper
1 to 3 jalapenos (your taste preference)
1 medium onion (peeled)
3 cloves garlic (peeled)
1 bunch cilantro
½ sm. can tomato paste
Seasonings to your taste to include
Sugar or Brown Sugar

Salt
Pepper (I use fresh ground)
Italian Seasoning

Start with tomatoes in blender or food processor. Add the rest of the veggies one at a time. Finish with the cilantro. (You can reduce or eliminate the cilantro if you aren't a fan). Pour in canning jars and serve when cold. This is fresh & not canned, so you’ll want to use in the next week.

The last time I posted cooking pictures on Horsetales, someone caught a glimpse of a spur on my counter. So I paid a little closer attention to what I was photographing this time!

And I'll have a horse related blog to follow quickly. I promise.

The Dog (and chicken) Days of Summer

The Dog Days of Summer. Hot, sultry. Stagnant. And it seems to be the time the horses have amassed every fly in the county on every body part. I remember the first time one of the farmers saw our horse in a fly mask: “John,” he said, “Those horses can’t see!” John assured him they could. Up until this year, I haven’t bought fly sheets, but poor Blue is getting bit so bad that I think if any of them warranted one right now, he would. I can about imagine what the neighbors will think when they see the horse in the complete ensemble – sheet and mask! I’ll get back to you on that….


McCain thought he wanted to be a chicken farmer this spring and bought some chicks. Thinking back, it was kind of a weird project for an almost 10th grader who spends little time at home as it is. His interest in the poultry lasted about 1.2 weeks. We now have “free range chickens.” Surprisingly, I’m kind of enjoying having them roam the yard. They are very colorful and quite animated! You should see them run! They are so funny! John caught me saying "my chickens" last night. So I guess they are. But I think the horses think they are their chickens. And they seem to have attached themselves to each other – I’m sure lured by the swarm of flies at the horse’s legs.

One day I was quite amused to find the black chicken by my black horse, Blue.

The red two-toned chicken who’s coloring remarkably resembles Butter, who is a red dun.

And a sorrel colored chicken by Ginger, who is a sorrel herself! Yep, it doesn’t take much to amuse me.

Last year, August was unusually pleasant and I racked up more riding hours than in any other month. I’ve given up before I even started this month. We just finished the weekend of temperatures nearing 100. Instead of riding, I’m just taking care of business. Got the dog neutered. Had the farrier out. Car shopping, school shopping. Haircuts. Trying to figure out how to get rid of a bumblebee nest. (You should see Case & Ritz run when the bees are in hot pursuit!)

In case you were wondering, according to Wikipedia, the phrase "the dog days of summer" refers to the hottest, most sultry days of summer. In the northern hemisphere they usually fall between early July and early September. Dog Days can also define a time period or event that is very hot or stagnant, or marked by dull lack of progress.


The term "Dog Days" was used by the Greeks after Sirius (the "Dog Star"), the brightest star in the heavens, rose just before or at the same time as sunrise, which is no longer true, owing to precession of the equinoxes. The Romans sacrificed a brown dog at the beginning of the Dog Days to appease the rage of Sirius, believing that the star was the cause of the hot, sultry weather. Dog Days were popularly believed to be an evil time "when the seas boiled, wine turned sour, dogs grew mad, and all creatures became languid, causing to man burning fevers, hysterics, and frenzies" according to Brady’s Clavis Calendarium, 1813.

There. So now we know. I can kind of relate to “growing mad” and having “hysterics and frenzies!” Thank goodness school starts next week!

Sunday Stills - Toys

This week’s Sunday Stills challenge is “Toys”. And mine are fur, leather and steel. And it’s not what you are thinking! Once again, I’ve taken my camera to the barn and the farmyard to capture this week’s pictures.

Everything I have related to my horses are my toys, so to speak. We have 5 horses and they each have their own bridle or two. Or in Windy's case, three. My idea, not hers. I've never had a daughter, so I get to play dress-up with my horse.




And of course each of us have our own saddle and trail gear. And then whatever ointments, sprays, wraps, and other supplies that are in the tack room of the barn are duplicated in the trailer.




When we first got our horses, I guess I didn’t think much about riding beyond our own pasture or driveway. But after about 6 months of horse ownership, I came home to find a “new to us” one ton truck in the garage and before we even got it licensed, we were trailer shopping. Today we have a 4-horse gooseneck trailer with living quarters that we use when camping. (I know it's sick and wrong, but most often the trailer is cleaner than my house.)




Time went on. The boys got older and had better things to do than riding horses with their mom. John works out of town a lot in the summer. It seemed like such a waste to load just one horse in that big trailer to meet a friend for a short ride. So I started looking for a smaller trailer to use when it was just me. A majority of the time, I hook up to this 2-horse Sundowner. Now I'm thinking "why use the 1 ton to pull this small trailer?" (Was that out loud?)




Any horse person knows that least expensive part of horse ownership is buying the horse. It's the toys that go with the horse that set us back a dime or two.

Back Among the Living

Any girl who grew up in the 70’s wanted to be Farrah. Oh, a few of you may have rather been Kate or Jaclyn, but it was Farrah that captivated men and women alike. I remember putting Mom’s curlers in my wet hair and waiting all day for my hair to dry. And when I looked in the mirror, I was so disappointed to find I couldn't emulate Farrah by hair alone. Not even close! And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only girl who was entranced by the poster. I mourned Farrah’s passing as I would a distant friend; someone who is not in my life but by remembering the impression she made upon it. A glimmer of my youth now gone.

When I left work yesterday, I was shocked to hear of the death of yet another celebrity of my time, Michael Jackson. Although I can’t say he left any mark on my life, I remember the first time I heard the song “Ben” and quickly memorized the words. As the day wore on, the radio showcased his career. I heard other songs I had forgotten about like, “She’s Out of My Life” and “I’ll Be There.” More memories of my another time. By the “Thriller” era, I’d already left home and as Michael’s music changed, I did, too. I’d be hard pressed to name any of his later songs. Despite the wackiness his life took on and the rather dark person he became, his music was a part of my generation and it is a bit surreal to lose two such icons in the same day.

Meanwhile, back on the farm today, Agnes was showing some noticeable signs of calving. Always the bridesmaid to the finer cow, Cocoa, it would be the first time that Agnes would calf first. For those who have been following this blog via Stable Talk you may recall Agnes’ first delivery in 2007 and her subsequent rejection of the calf. John was out of town and I had quite a time with her, especially being that I am NOT a cow person. But the next year, she graciously accepted her baby. So we were expecting a pretty uneventful birth this time.

Case told me earlier he thought Agnes' water broke and later, he and I looked up signs of calving on the Internet. He was convinced that Agnes showed all of those symptoms. I didn’t even realize he headed out the door until a few minutes later, I heard him screaming for us. “Come QUICK!” he yelled with pure panic in his voice. He was down in the pasture by the pond. I saw John coming down the ladder from the barn and McCain and I jumped in the truck and drove down to where Case was.

I found Case knee deep in the water holding the calf so he wouldn’t drown. Evidently Agnes had given birth on the slight incline by the pond and he had gently slid in. John carefully pulled the calf back into the grass and Agnes started licking him. Thank goodness she took him – I was having visions of Calf 2007 and didn’t want to go through that again! No doubt Case saved the little critter’s life. He named it Water Boy. I thought “Billy Jean” would have been more appropriate.




I have not been on a horse at all since I got back from Big Canyon. The heat and humidity have been very intense this week – the hottest of the season so far. I have plans tomorrow to meet some friends for an early morning ride before the heat of the day engulfs us once again.

Putting Up Hay

John wants to be a farmer when he grows up. There is nothing he likes more than puttering around on his tractor and working the land. All 24.75 acres of it. Not enough to make it a full time job. But a couple times a year, he gets to do the real thing. It’s haying season!

We have some of our pasture and some of his mom’s that we mow for hay every year. It’s actually one of the most stressful times on the farm for me because if we don’t catch it at just the right time with the weather in perfect condition, I’ll be buying hay for the winter. That happened last year. So we have to watch the weather and hope for a few days of perfect, sunny conditions to get it down, dried and baled. John does all the cutting and windrowing. He bales what we put in small bales and our neighbor rolls up the big bales for us. We usually don’t do it all at one time as we don’t want to risk it all should the weather turn on us in the middle of hay harvest. This year we also planted alfalfa. It’s not ready yet, but it should help our winter inventory.

Once the hay is cut, it is a family affair to get it out of the field. I always warn John that I can't help if he makes the bales heavier than 50 pounds. He forgot and these babies were probably close to 65 to 70 pounds. So guess what? I couldn't help. So I took pictures.

Case has a few years before he can handle the 65 pound bales, too, so he gets the easy job. He thought it was pretty funny if we were all standing on the rack and he hit the brakes. We threatened him with 65 pound bales and he straightened right up!

John has no problem with the big bales but I did see sweat on his brow.

McCain conditions at the high school three times a week. He can no longer protest the weight of the bales. But he is sure not to overdo it either. Do you think he knows I'm taking his picture?

Check out the clouds in the background. The evening sky was awesome! There was some lightning and thunder in the distance.

That one doesn't look too big. I think he thought I should have been able to load that one!

Job well done! Ritz thinks he contributed -- he didn't.

We dodged the weather bullet this time but still have the big field to go in the next few weeks.

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