Poo Do You Think You Are?

I've been on full-time barn duty for the past week while V attended her niece's graduation.  Now that she's back I can safely say all went well - the boys behaved themselves, no illnesses, injuries or great escapes.  Dusty did lose his fly mask a couple of times, but it was a great excuse to hop on Legs bareback and go a-huntin'.  Not quite as exciting as chasing fox or coyote, but hey - lemons into lemonade!

V is always grateful that I am willing to take care of the boys so she can go out of town from time to time, but the truth is I really do enjoy it.  As opposed to the large operations I used to work at (the largest of which had 100+ horses), taking care of 3 and 1/4 equines is refreshingly easy.  I love the simple efficiency of her little set up, and the ease of the daily routine allows plenty of time for thoughtful contemplation.

Just as you can tell a lot about a person by the decor of her home, you can also tell a lot about a horse by the way he keeps his stall.  I admit I am often guilty of humanizing horses' characteristics and I am personally OK with this.  That being said, while doing stalls this week I have made the following characterizations.

Please do not be scared; this will be relatively painless.

Dusty:  The Bachelor  It's no secret that most males seem to lack accuracy when aiming their stream at the porcelain god.  This deficiency does seem to be more prevalent in single males.  I have no scientific proof to back this up, but my theory is that the problem does decrease with marriage/co-habitation with the fairer sex (we are called that for a reason) due to said fairer sexes' constant bitching on the subject.  That, or they simply get better at cleaning up after themselves.  Dusty earns the title of "bachelor" because his stall is devoid of the "wet spot" - his entire stall is a wet spot.  I've never actually caught him doing it, but I would swear that he walks around as he urinates.

Zachary:  The Artist  You would think that a 9 hand mini-donkey would take full advantage of his 10' x 10' stall and spread things around, but he does not.  It's really pretty charming how he backs into one corner to drop his droppings.  Perhaps he has some sort of donkey feng shui thing going on.  What is only slightly less charming are the corresponding poop patterns on the wall behind his piles.  I can only hope that one day an image of Elvis will show up.

Skylar:  The Punk Rocker  Ever seen - or been a part of - a mosh pit at a concert?  I can only imagine that something similar happens in Skylar's stall nightly.  I have actually named his particular piece of real estate "The Mash Pit".  So thorough is he with the mashing of his poo/pee/hay/shavings that none retains any recognizable quality of its original form, but rather morphs into a new object all together - Poopeehayshave.  You may credit me with this discovery at your will.

Legs:  The Neat-Freak  A good human friend of mine (yes, I have them) falls into this category as well, to the point that she alphabetizes the items in her pantry.  I will admit that once or five times I have gone in there and moved one item just to see how long it would take her to notice and move it back (less than 5 minutes if she is cooking).  So consistent is Legs with his wet spot, that I regularly have to bring in sand and fill dirt to replenish the hole created from digging it out daily.  While he does lack Zachary's piling techniques, his poo piles are lined up perfectly along one wall  side by side, in order of completion. 

True story - several years ago the barn roof developed a leak directly above Legs' regular stall hay spot.  Fearing mold, I chose to move his hay 3 feet to the left until we could get the leak fixed.  Unfortunately, not only did I move the hay from the Designated Hay Spot, I chose to move it over a Designated Poo Spot.  When I brought Legs in that evening, he went immediately to where his hay should have been.  Although the hay was in plain view, he was decidedly confused.   He looked at me, looked at where the hay should have been, looked at me again, spotted the hay in a new spot, looked at me pleadingly one more time, then finally took a few tentative bites of hay-in-strange-location.  Needless to say, the offensive leak was fixed immediately.

Thus concludes today's admittedly inane observations.

Note:  As I finished writing this post, it was brought to my attention by the President of the HPAW Fan Club (Chef) that perhaps people would not be interested in reading the pee and poo habits of my horses, to which I said, "Have you read the title of this blog?". 

Taking the Bad with the Good

Sorry no post last week. It was one hell of a week. I've posted before about how I'm pretty superstitious, and last week only confirmed one of my many irrational fears - that bad things happen in threes.

The Bad
1. Monday
Sophie, my sweet little 16 month old Rotti/Cattle Dog mix, has had a funny lump on her forehead for a couple of weeks. We had it checked out when it popped up, but a return trip to the vet confirmed that it was pretty suspicious looking - more tumor-like than lump-like. Surgery was scheduled for the following week.

2. Tuesday
One of my mother-in-law's Shelties was diagnosed with lung cancer. He will not have long. MIL is totally freaked and upset. Her dogs are her life, especially since she lost her husband two years ago. She is 86 years old and has some health problems of her own. Chef and I really fear for her state of mind/will to live if she loses the little guy.

3. Thursday
Skylar got out of his stall overnight. He's always been a bit of an escape artist, but we are very careful to keep the aisle door to his stall double latched. On occasion, he has let himself out the back door into the pasture, but Wednesday night the little booger outdid himself. Apparently, he opened the back door, went around to Dusty's back door, opened it, let Dusty out into the pasture, then let himself out Dusty's front door and was basically free. Dusty, bless him, stayed put in the pasture, but Skylar gorged himself on some alfalfa in the aisle and the ultra rich grass around the barn. He also had no access to water for many hours. When V got there Thursday morning not only was he showing signs of colic, but laminitis as well.

The vet was called and got there quickly. They started him on IV fluids (he was really dehydrated) and a DMSO drip. He perked up later, and passed some poo, but still acting ouchy on the front feet. We bedded him up, iced his feet, and hoped for the best.

Friday morning he colicked again, and off to the emergency clinic he went. Vets there confirmed that he may have partial blockage and set to watching him. They continued to ice his feet, and initial X-rays showed no rotation. I know that does not mean much; it's really too early to tell if any damage was done. We are truly blessed to have such a great clinic just 40 minutes away.

Anyway, I wanted to wait until I had some good news again before posted anything about this horrible week. Unfortunately, there is not much good to say about the Sheltie; he will most likely be put down later on this week (he's already having some difficulty breathing). We will just have to take it one day at a time with MIL.

Sophie came through surgery just fine and is home annoying her big brother Burton (our 3 year old Shepherd/Husky mix) and the cat. She's been drinking and peeing a lot, but the vet says that is probably an after effect of the anesthesia and should clear up in a day or so. We should have the biopsy results next week, so I am crossing my fingers until then.

Skylar is home - stall bound, bedded up to his knees, and on limited hay and no grain, but home. Vet will be out Friday to do more X-rays, and time will tell if we caught it in time.

The Good
Sunday night I just really needed to get to my happy place. It was a lovely evening and I jumped on Legs bareback for a twilight ride by the river. A cool breeze kept the bugs at bay, the whippoorwills called softly in the distance, and while the sun was setting the bats began their nightly dance overhead. As we wandered aimlessly I was reminded just why we go through everything we do for our four-legged family members.

Despite all the downs, the ups are always worth it.

A Hierarchy Unraveled. Or, The Big Guy Finally Stands Up For Himself. Or, Where is a Camera When You Need One?

First a quick note to Those Who Scoffed At My Last Post (you know who you are!). OK. I admit I am looking out at the 10" of snow that we got yesterday. Still...that does not mean Legs is wrong. He only predicts that spring is coming, not how soon it will get here. So there!

Second, I need to preface this post with a bit of information on the hierarchy of our little herd.

Dusty: 14.3 hand, 22 year old palomino QH. He is our alpha, and damn good at it! Best alpha I have ever known. He keeps the others in line by acting like he will rip them to shreds, but never actually makes contact. If the farm were a high school, Dusty would be the squat but powerful jock type that everyone fears, but few know well.

Skylar: 15 hand, 7 year old palomino QH. Skylar is Mr. Popularity. Friends to all, be they human, horse, cat, or dog. Both Dusty and Skylar belong to V. She had a thing for Trigger growing up :o)

Zachary: 6 month old 150 lb. mini-donkey. Kind of like the kid brother who is always hanging around. And finally...

Legs: 16.1 hand, 21 year old chestnut OTTB. A.K.A "Leg Man", "Oucho Marx", and "The One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Chestnut Carrot Eater" (Pic at right is before we removed that left eye...he's still just as cute!). Legs is the recluse, the introvert. He's a lover, not a fighter.

Yes, you have read this hierarchy correctly. Though good buddies with Skylar, Legs is decidedly the low man on the totem pole. Even below Zachary; the little booger regularly chases the Big Man off his hay pile. Guess those big ears can be pretty scary when pinned back.

That may have changed this morning. We'd thrown out extra hay due to the aforementioned snow, and because temps were supposed to linger around freezing until early afternoon, everyone went out in their blankets. I was in the barn banging ice out of the water buckets when I heard V yelling out back, something along the lines of "Put him down!".

I ran out to see what happened and saw Legs standing protectively over a pile of hay, calmly holding the tail flap of Zachary's blanket in his teeth. Poor Zach's front legs were still on the ground, but his back legs were kicking uselessly in the air.

I'm not a mother in the traditional sense, though I consider my dogs, cat, and horse to be my "children." I'm not sure if the mixture of horror and pride that I felt would be a natural maternal response to seeing a child - previously bullied by all - suddenly stand up for himself. Still, Zachary is one-tenth Legs' size. Is this something to be proud of?

Yet proud I was, especially when Legs, with a sigh of resignation, did set Zach down and push him away. No harm, no foul. Only time will tell if this new hierarchy will stick. My only real fear now is that Zachary's back hooves would land at Legs' knee level if he were so inclined to retaliate.

Because no one got hurt, V and I did share a laugh over the whole situation. And where the heck is a camera when you need one? $10,000 buys s lot of alfalfa!

Dodging the Flood - I Hope!

Wow. What a difference a month makes! I mentioned earlier that the pretty little farm that Legs calls home is not so pretty under water - this is what I mean.

This photo was taken during our last evacuation back in September:

Don't worry. We have a lovely pasture just across the road that our neighbors let us use when it gets this bad (usually only once every 2 or 3 years...it's been a rough stretch). Here is a shot of Dusty and Skylar (Legs' stable mates) in their temporary home:

Note the water line on my jeans. I had to wade across a "stream" that was once road to get to them. The funny thing is that the news crew was there doing a story on the dangers of crossing water flooded roads. I kinda walked through right in the middle of the broadcast :o) Oh well...just weird like that.

The French Broad River valley that we call home is really a beautiful place. Most of the time. Just a month ago we looked like this:

Still, it can get ugly. Recent heavy rains and warmer temps resulting in the snow melting has turned the ole French Broad into a ranging bitch again (sorry for the profanity, but she really makes me mad sometimes). V and I didn't sleep well last night, checking the NOAA hydrograph every few hours. The pasture will get wet at 18'. At 20' the barn goes under. As of last night NOAA was calling for a crest at 18.5' by 7:00 tonight.

Just got home from the barn...water water everywhere. BUT the barn is dry. And, the latest river update has it cresting at 19' in just about an hour. V will call with an update then, but looks like we will be fine. Which is great, because we have another concern with flooding. Our newest addition to the barn is a 6 month old mini-donkey, Zachary.

He probably CAN swim, but we'd rather not test that theory.

The horses, however, are having a ball! Legs is a bit of a water baby, and V reported he has been splashing all day. I'll try to get some video tomorrow...it's a hoot when he gets going! Took me forever to get him dry enough to get his blanket on tonight, because guess what - they are calling for snow showers tonight! I can deal with rain/flooding, I can deal with snow, but both at once??? Come on, Momma Nature! Cut us some slack here.

Such is the price of living in paradise.

PG