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December 4, 2010

The Lights Are Off, Nobody’s Home

Filed under: All My Posts,Family and Friends,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , , — Dawn @ 9:35 am

The lights are off and nobody is home at the Faught Farm. At least that was the situation a few weeks before Christmas. The good news is, unlike last year when our corn crop was out in the field all winter, our crop is in the bin and the fields are worked. The bad news was, I was swamped with farm work and failed to get my Christmas lights up when the weather was warm.

Before you feel too sorry for me, I also had other more important things to do – ride Harley after he got home from training with Blair Wittnebel, Watertown, SD. Blair loved my Spanish Mustang and said he is going to make a mighty fine horse! Harley showed a great love for herd work – pinning his ears and biting at the calves when moving them at the local stockyards. I wasn’t surprised as he has been caught chasing the poor deer and cats trying to cut through our pasture on more than one occasion! An eager learner – Harley also shows great promise as a trail horse as he took Blair up and down “Some really steep narrow places” along with crossing creeks and other obstacles without fear or hesitation. Hopefully his rider (me) will be able to do the same this coming year as she hasn’t shown the same boldness when confronted with scary spots!

Harley came home just as the weather turned nasty but we’ve managed to fit in a few rides on the rare nice days between snowstorms. I quickly found that riding Harley is like eating chocolate – you can’t get enough! We played at this riding game in the freshly fallen snow and enjoyed renewing our partnership. I found it amazing at how much he learned in just 30 days under saddle as he responded to my leg cues and light rein commands. But as the snow fell and the temperatures dropped, I finally admitted temporary defeat; but my saddle and bridle stowed inside the garage to stay warm just in case of a nice day.

Upon the Advent of December, it was time to prepare for Christmas. Unfortunately, the electrical elves decided to play a few nasty games with me – the majority of my 1-yr. old outdoor lights refused to light. After purchasing new lights, I bundled myself in insulated covies, wool hat and gloves and plodded my way to the house with the ladder. As the horses curiously watched from the corral, slippery snow underfoot and luckily no falls after several hours of cautious ladder maneuvers, my home was twinkling with Christmas cheer. Finally inside with the thermostat set on high, I sat under a blanket to thaw and enjoy the glow….just in time to see the outside world go black! The evil elves were at it again!

Too cold to care, I fretted and fumed all evening about the time wasted and the possibility of frostbite for nothing. But with the new morning dawning, my resolve (or was it stubbornness?) heightened – I once again put on my winter survival gear and headed back outside. A bad string of lights with a life expectancy of 10 minutes was the culprit. Once again, up and down the ladder I went, replacing the offending string with numb fingers. Finally, the house all aglow, I stowed my ladder. But low and behold, before I could even enter the house, the evil elves snickered with glee – my lights were dark once again.

How could something work and then die so quickly? Christmas spirit dashed, I cursed the cheaply made products of the world and started checking the lights once again to no avail….even changing outlets just in case but the world was still dark. The Grinch had stolen Christmas from my Faughtville abode, and admitting defeat, I went into the silent and dark house to thaw and chill and pout. Hmmm – Silent and dark? The light bulbs in my dim little head glowed brightly as I remembered the phone call the previous night….from the electric company warning of a planned outage for repairs! My hand smacked my forehead as the Grinch and evil elves snuck around the corner…Chuckling with glee. Yes, the lights were off and nobody sane was home at the Faught Farm.

Remember that Christmas is not about the lights you string or the presents you receive. Hug your horses and hold your family and friends near. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!

Harley in Training

August 2, 2010

Life is Good Today!

Filed under: All My Posts,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , , , , , — Dawn @ 11:56 am

Zac Brown’s “Toes in the Sand” ran through my head in a slightly distorted version as I sat in my backyard in the hot sun. “I got my toes in Harley’s nostrils, butt in a chair…” Yes, Harley found a new toy that day and once he thoroughly examined my toes and the chair they rested on, we both settled in for an afternoon siesta. The shadow cast by Harley’s head blocked the sun’s rays from my eyes and a droopy horse lip six inches from my forehead was my view. The gentle relaxed breathing of my favorite Spanish Mustang tickled my face as we enjoyed a special afternoon of bonding. Yes Zac, I agree – Life is good today!

The morning started with briefly checking on the horses. Harley was standing in his usual corner and received his usual scratch. Spotting mud on the bottom rail of the fence, I made a mental note to talk to my son about where he had been scraping his boots. Soon the grass was flying as I mowed and made more mental notes of what job I needed to tackle next. As the mower strew clippings into the pasture, the horses gathered to taste the tender morsels. Harley, near the fence, moved quickly away when the mower passed and it was then my heart started pounding. Harley was lame.

A nail in his frog was the probable reason behind the mud on the rail as my young colt tried to scrape the offending metal out of his hoof. Visions of an abscess tormented me as I soaked his hoof clean and made a few phone calls to the vet and farrier. Harley and I bit the bullet and pulled the nail, paying special attention to how deeply it was embedded and in what direction. Luckily Harley was a champ and never flinched as I pulled the thorn out of the lion’s paw. After additional soaking, dressing and wrapping – I turned the new vet wrap and duct tape king loose in the yard to graze where his feet would remain relatively clean. However, Harley being Harley, soon discovered the cornfield. After several trips to retrieve my errant little boy, I gave myself permission to take a break from the stressful day and sit in the sunshine…and keep a closer eye on my mischievous colt.

Surprisingly at that point, Harley decided I was much more interesting than corn or grass and came to visit. First the chair my feet rested upon was examined, tasted and knocked over. Then the real fun began as he discovered my bare feet. My big toes were inhaled and shoved up each nostril as far as they could go. My feet were licked and nuzzled to the point I was beginning to worry that my little horse had an obsession. He also decided toes were just like fingers as he offered his jaw for a scratch.

Finally relieved of his curiosity of something he had never seen outside cowboy boots, Harley placed himself by my head. After inhaling my breath – now slow and calm, he cocked a hip and fell asleep – shading my face with his beautiful head and drooping lip. There we sat, dozing in the sunshine with Harley standing guard over me as if I were a member of his herd. Before long, he also felt safe and lay down next to my chair like a good horse/dog for a nap.

What Harley and I shared under that hot summer sun – from his total trust in me to relieve his pain to the my trust in him not to eat my toes and the best nap time we have ever had – was a special occasion for us both. The bonding between us was etched in stone and gave just a hint of what will come as we eagerly hit the trails together.

Harley and I rewrote Zac Brown’s hit that day to “I got my toes in the stirrups, faithful Harley beneath. Not a worry in the world, many trails to see. Life is good today. Life is good today.

July 7, 2010

Life Lessons

Filed under: All My Posts,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings,On the Serious Side — Tags: , , , , , , — Dawn @ 7:07 am

In the hot sultry air, the blue roan impatiently swished his tail and stomped his foot – kicking at pesky deer flies nibbling at his legs. The other herd members were standing in the dark barn where flies were less active in their pursuit of a warm feast. Bottom of the pecking order, Harley seemed destined to stand and suffer in the heat but this intelligent gelding knew that time was on his side.

Soon lulled into a stupor by the droning of the barn fan and relief from insects, his herd mates fell asleep and Harley moved into action. Pausing slightly with each step, ear cocked and listening just in case his mates awoke, the blue roan backed silently step by step into the dark recesses of relief. Patience rewarded Harley with relief from the biting flies and hot sun and he too, rested in the shadowy recesses of the barn.

Did I teach him how to worm his way into the barn? No – this is something he learned by the school of hard knocks. After repeatedly being chased out of the barn by the older horses, Harley learned that rather than trying to force his presence upon the bullies, he could gain access by biding his time and yes, being a little sneaky.

Life lessons such as being bit on the butt by a dominate horse tend to be retained easier than being “schooled”. Perhaps like a child, a scraped knee or pinched finger leaves a more lasting impression upon the young and willful rather than telling him a certain action could get him hurt. Once on a trail ride, I was repeatedly alerting a young colt to holes in the trail. The colt was more interested in looking at all of the other horses walking about and gawking at the scenery than where his feet were being placed. Finally tiring of watching out for the young and stupid, I let the colt step into a shallow crevice. Stumbling for just as moment, the young and stupid turned into the smartest kid on the block and instantly started paying attention to where his feet were placed. The school of hard knocks once again won.

My first trail ride on Harley was also a learning experience. With the steady influence of his pasture mates along on the ride, Harley set off down the trail eagerly – happy to be out “working” with the big boys. When unsure, he would hesitate and wait for the others reassurance and then set off once again. His muscles felt hard beneath my seat – tense with excitement and seemingly ready to blow at a moment’s notice. The young colt’s hindquarters felt uncoordinated as he learned to carry my weight downhill and back up again. We traveled along a hilly prairie road and after pausing slightly, crossed a wooden bridge with ease.

Soon, my tense colt relaxed and softened his muscles beneath me and I too, relaxed as we traversed another hill. Now confidence and remarkable agility and balance were felt as we traversed up and down the hills. Many miles will be spent under saddle before Harley is finished but as we travel, the life lessons we both learn along the trail will be priceless – even if it takes a little stumble or bite on the butt to make us wake up!

June 3, 2010

Silence Speaking Loudly

Filed under: All My Posts,Family and Friends,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings,On the Serious Side — Tags: , , , , , , , — Dawn @ 8:26 am

The cheerful chatter of birds riding in on the fresh air through my open window woke me, the sun still hiding behind the horizon of the eastern sky. Fresh steaming cup of coffee in hand, its aroma mingling nicely with the scent of pine and spring air, I settled onto the swing on my deck and watched the sun rise. The horses, snorting in contentment, grazed upon the green pasture, tails swishing gently in the calm air. Harley’s raised head and perked ears alerted me to a deer walking along the river bottom – its tawny hide flashing gold in the morning sun.

Horses, when you listen, can tell you so many things by their body language – a shift of the hip, softening of the eye, swish of the tail. They tell you if they are happy, sad, confused or mad. Always on the alert for danger, their early warning system can tell you if there is a bear or an evil green ogre on the trail ahead. Looking through their eyes, you will find a fawn bedded in tall grass or a majestic elk topping the bluff on a far hillside.

Eddie’s body language is one of relaxation and love. Each time after being tacked up, Eddie turns and buries his large head into my stomach and requests his pre-ride hug. I wrap my arms around him and lay my cheek upon his forehead and breathe softly into his nostrils. Eddie sighs in contentment as if to say, “Thank you for taking the time for a ride with me today” and then waits for me to mount. I now use Eddie to give rides to children – Grace is his favorite little girl and tries his hardest to understand her requests. One day, Grace’s grandma came to pick her up after her lesson, bringing her brother and cousins along. The small boys were excited and eager to pet the large horse that stood quietly and lowered his head to their short stature. I showed the boys how Eddie loves his head hugs and they each took their turn – wrapping tiny arms around his massive head, Eddie sighing in contentment. The smallest boy however, was afraid and even in his grandmother’s arms, did not want to touch the large animal. Eddie seemed to understand as he quietly moved closer on his own accord and rested his nose upon Grandma Jen’s arm and quietly encouraged Ian to overcome his fear. The horse, ever patient but unrelenting finally coaxed the boy with his silent body language to pat his massive head. Eddie, once again content, sighed and moved back to the other children for more love.

Harley is the king of body language. Every emotion this spunky little guy feels is loudly proclaimed upon every square inch of his body. One day while lunging him in preparation for another training session, Harley was clearly not a happy camper. Stiff posture, a head toss and a mini buck or two told me something was up. Not one to get ruffled over temper tantrums, I continued to work Harley calmly through his spell. Suddenly Harley stopped, stretched out to pee and proceeded to empty an extremely full bladder. He peed…and peed….and peed! The relief on his face was hilarious as he finished his job and walked off into a whole new world. His body language now was relaxed, happy and alert and eager to do as I beckoned. He did give me a disgusted look as I laughed at my silly boy until tears flowed from my eyes! We proceeded to have the best ride ever – the relaxed young horse beneath me responding to my body language as we learned to read each other’s cues.

We can learn so much by watching our horses as they graze in the pasture, interact with their buddies and nature, and how they respond when you are working with them. By taking the time to listen to what your horse is trying to tell you in his not always so silent body language, your partnership with these intuitive animals will grow. Remembering that horses also read your body language and adjusting your mode of silent communication with your equine will take your partnership to a new level. Horses speak if we listen with our eyes as well as our ears.

May 8, 2010

Happy Birthday Old Man!

Filed under: All My Posts,Family and Friends,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , , — Dawn @ 7:33 am

Age matters – or does it? How old you are calendar-wise seldom equates with how old you feel. Some days I feel like I’m a young spring chick and other days….well let’s just say I don’t move as quickly as I used to.

I started thinking seriously about age the other day while taking my husband’s grandfather to the doctor. At the ripe young age of 95 – and soon to be 96, Grandpa is mentally sharper than I am and mighty spry. In fact, some days, I feel old in comparison to this man who really hasn’t changed in looks since I met him 30 years ago. Looking at Grandpa, I wonder if my husband will possess the same longevity. Recently knighted with the honor of reaching that half century mark, Steve sports only one or two gray hairs (that he claims) and isn’t quite ready for the walker….yet!

Hearing Grandpa speak about the days when he plowed fields with true four-legged horsepower makes me wonder if our grandchildren (which we don’t have yet) will someday sit and listen in awe as we talk of the days when there was no cell phones, IPods or personal computers. Steve (being much older than me) will enjoy telling the youngsters about the days of party line telephones and eight-track tapes. I’m positive that jaws will drop at tales of the good old days of Steve taking his rifle along to school (kept in an unlocked car in the school parking lot) so he and his friends could go gopher hunting when school was done for the day – without SWAT teams surrounding the area. Imagine the disbelief when they hear we survived not wearing seatbelts until we were in our late 20’s!

Yes, back in the good old days, bicycles were ridden without helmets, hand sanitizer was good old soap and water and McDonalds was more often referred to as a farmer in a childhood song rather than a fast food chain. Back “then” Capri pants were called Pedal Pushers, thongs were sandals and tattoos were only for sailors. We even survived life without cable – relishing black and white TV signals delivered by rabbit ear antenna which were frequently readjusted to “tune in” a total of FOUR different “snowy” TV stations.

It seems everyone, as children, is always so anxious to grow up and become adults but once we get there, we want to return to the youthful days when life was simple. Milestones such as losing baby teeth are applauded. I even find myself looking into Harley’s mouth with a gleeful giggle as his baby teeth are starting to wiggle. Then all too sudden, we get “long in tooth” and have to go into the vet for a floating and are left wondering why we hurt so bad the day after running, riding or putting in a hard day’s work. Just where did those summer days of youth go?

So do we feel our age? In regards to his half century of life, Steve says, “I feel like a 30-year old but my wife won’t let me have one!” Well, today – just for him, I feel like a 30-year old and if he ditches that walker – he might even be able to catch me! Happy Birthday Old Man!

March 27, 2010

Cowgirls and the Boots They Wear

Filed under: All My Posts,Family and Friends,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , , , , — Dawn @ 2:20 pm

One day, while idling away a long evening on Twitter and simultaneously shopping for boots I made a simple comment “I do not need another pair of boots.” Instantly, all cowgirls worldwide perked their ears and thronged to my internet doorway. Soon, mere strangers became friends, all of a bootaholic nature. Sharing our favorite brands along where to get the best buy on boots and generally joking and enabling all fellow bootaholics along a leather-soled path. Cowgirl friend Laurie and I rounded up the herd and formed a page on Facebook where we could post pictures and stories. Where there was once one lonely cowgirl on a dark winter evening – there are now over 530 friends and the numbers grow daily.

Upon this page, we ooh and ah over photos of each other’s “bootage,” share music and poetry and stories of where our boots have taken us and the friends and horses that share our lives. We’re self professed enablers in all our glory of the next boot purchase. It has been said, “One never has too many boots.” (A statement which is quickly followed by “Look at the new boots I just bought!”) Whether it’s fulfilling needs of the soul or needs of the SOLE, we should have bought stock in boot companies as sales have made an astounding jump in the past few weeks!

Some cowgals shyly post only one pair of boots while others ‘come out of the closet’ and proudly lines up all the boots she owns to fill the picture frame. Artistically minded cowgirls seek new ways of photographing leather-clad feet – some adorned with blingy spurs and some inside stirrups, cute puppies sleeping inside boots, on hay bales, under horse noses and alongside their equine partner’s hooves. Red boots under a white wedding dress received rave reviews and vintage boots were awed over.

This goes to prove that cowgirls are our allies. They are born of a special group – a sisterhood united by their common love of the horse and all of the paraphernalia that comes along with it. Cowgirls are proud, supportive, independent and self sufficient. Cowgirls are strong of heart, soul, body and mind. Cowgirls will back each other up in time of need and hold each other when they fall. They will laugh with you and at you when you do stupid things (in the nicest possible way of course!). They will cry with you and make you laugh when all you really want to do is cry. And should you want to buy a new horse or a new pair of boots, they will throng to your door and cheer you along the way.

Hold up your boots and toast them with pride – whether they are classy dancing boots or mucky barn boots because no matter what brand or condition – they serve us well on our journey of life! Join our little group on Facebook called “Cowgirls and the Boots They Wear” and follow our Boot Adventure. And hopefully at some time in the near future, we’ll all meet under a glorious sunset to sing and dance and share our tales of the boots we wear and the journeys on which they have taken us.

March 1, 2010

Snowshoeing 101

Filed under: All My Posts,Farm Life,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , , , — Dawn @ 11:34 pm

Spring fever hit me early this year but I wasn’t the only one who fell prey to this disease. A robin dared show his beak in my yard the last day of February…when the snow was still up to 3 feet deep in the shelterbelts and fields. I’m sure he was wondering what he was doing in North Dakota along with the rest of us!

It was on this day I gave into winter once again and strapped on my snowshoes. Last year was my first experience at this “feat” of strapping huge clown shoes onto your feet, and a clown miraculously appeared in the form of Dawn, who had no clue as to how to get around on the darn things. Too proud to ask questions and too dumb to research the process on-line, I set out with grim determination on my shoulders. My first trek should have been followed by a film crew as I would have surely won the big prize in American’s Funniest Home Videos.

On this first endeavor I quickly learned a lot of Do’s and Don’ts. The first being: Do use ski poles for balance or wear long gloves. Balance has always been an issue and I quickly found out that wearing snowshoes put my balance to an extreme test. I happily trekked off behind my house through the deep snow until I took one brief misstep. Milliseconds later, I found myself armpit deep on my side floundering in the snow. Arising from my tomb was an entirely new and interesting maneuver but soon I was on my way again shaking snow out of my sleeves.

Stubborn determination and eternal optimism lead me to my next blunder. Don’t try to walk down a steep hill on your first walk or you will soon be “snowshoeskiing” at a rapid rate. Also, don’t forget to wear bib snowpants or as you are sliding on your butt downhill you will find snow in regions meant for much warmer hospitable treatment!

No one was watching this sideshow so I shook out the snowballs and stubbornly continued along my way…leading me to another don’t! Never, ever try to follow a deer trail through a cattail patch. Deer are much narrower in body and foot path than humans with huge boards strapped to their feet and at some point you are going to tangle said snowshoes in cattails and end upside down once again. No one told me the snow and cattails could be so deep right off the path. Nor did anyone tell me that it is nearly impossible to get yourself back upright when your feet are still way up there on the deer path and your body way down there deep in a soft bed of snowy fuzz.

Feeling much like a turtle stuck on its back with my feet the only part of my body still high upon the deer trail, I grabbed at the cattails to pull myself back up. This only produced clouds of fuzz rising high in the air much like the smoke signal I needed to send out for help. The thought of being found in this position in the spring along with the words “I’ve fallen and can’t get up!” sent me into hysterical laughter which was quickly choked off by the cloud of cattail fuzz raining down and entering my nostrils and lungs. After much huffing and hacking and sneezing and grunting, I finally emerged more or less intact (except for my dignity) and sporting a snazzy new coat of white.

Of course, what goes down must come back up and I quickly learned what the term “uphill battle” means along with don’t grab onto branches to pull yourself uphill unless you first check to see if they are alive. Dead branches easily break and are only useful for stabbing the offending snow and hillsides with frustration. Switchbacks quickly became my friend that day!

A sucker for punishment, I have since made many treks out onto the frozen tundra with webbed boards strapped to my feet. I’ve even come to enjoy this fine sport which takes me where no horse can go in the wintertime. Ski poles now balance me and smaller snowshoes better suited for brush and cattails and equipped with crampon-type claws for better traction up and downhill adorn my feet. My camera is now my companion and most of the time, I keep it safe from plunges into the deep snow. I capture flashes of red and gold as pheasants flush and deer as they snort and stomp, then run at my intrusion into their winter wonderland leaving behind gleaming white antlers shed in preparation for the spring to come.

February 13, 2010

Only In Mexico

Filed under: All My Posts,Family and Friends,Humorous Ponderings,Vacation — Tags: , , , , , , , — Dawn @ 1:39 pm

I was surrounded by a constant babble of voices speaking in a multitude of languages at the same time – a veritable smorgasbord of nations all thrown together to simmer into a spicy stew under the scorching sunshine on the beaches of Cancun. I opened my eyes when I heard a jet passing overhead only to see a frigate bird soaring overhead as if the massive sound of the engines belonged to him. A heated multinational pool volleyball game was in progress, sunburnt players splashed as they volleyed and took frequent tequila breaks.

In Mexico, a variety of scantily clad bodies shed their winter fur in search of the perfect tan…from young, muscular and fit to elderly and obese…and yes, I fit in between there somewhere! Only in Mexico, can an older gentleman past his prime wear a thong and expose his cheeks to the hot sun – my cheeks reddened by the sight. Grey haired women meshed with the young blonde and buxom…. bikinis on the majority regardless of size and shape.

Not all our time was spent on a white sandy beach or poolside. At Chichen Itza, we trod upon the same ground which the ancient Mayan people built their stone pyramids, lived in palaces and held their ceremonies in temples upon massive altars. We were amazed at the enormity and perfection of the structures all built by hand out of native rock. Intricate carvings upon the faces of the buildings told the story of the people who lived so many years before. A cavernous sinkhole filled with mossy green water was purported to be the site of child slave sacrifices in the quest of rain gave us chills in spite of the oppressive heat and humidity. Vendors, all proclaiming their wares were “almost free” or “one dollar only” lined ancient streets where once only royalty were allowed.


The turquoise blue crystal clear waters of Isla Mujeres welcomed us for a day of snorkeling. I quickly lost my fear of breathing underwater as iridescent fish of all sizes, shapes and colors swam in and out of coral reefs below us as we eagerly paddled along on salty warm waters. The tiny island’s sandy beaches and narrow quietly crowded streets beckoned us to stay and explore just a little while longer.


Alas, the endless buffets of languages and plates of food I didn’t have to cook, poolside icy drinks of varied colors and flavors and glorious warm sunshine had to end. Gleaming white sand beaches disappeared as the jet’s wheels lifted and were all too soon replaced by endless but equally brilliant fields of snow. Lingering traces of sand in our luggage along with a splendid but rapidly fading tan still beg us to return for just a little longer stay – on the sunny beaches of Mexico.

January 25, 2010

Love of the Chase

Filed under: All My Posts,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings — Tags: , , , , — Dawn @ 9:36 pm

I looked out my window this morning to see a deer running at top speed through the pasture. Thinking the worst – a coyote or dog was on the chase – I looked in the direction the deer had come from only to see, Heaven forbid….Harley in hot pursuit! Luckily the deer leaped over the fence and even luckier, Harley stopped before doing the same, looking a bit perturbed that the game was over already. I shook my head and uttered something on the line of “problem child” and wondered if a horse chasing deer equates to wild game harassment!

My son, Kyle had also viewed the chase and just said, “Mom, you are going to have a lot of fun with him!” That statement sent me on a nightmare journey with visions of flushing deer on our rides and Harley, like a super hyper bird dog, taking up pursuit with me hanging on for the ride. I’m sure Kyle’s thought pattern followed more on the lines of “I wonder if Mom will let me ride him during hunting season? Sure would beat walking and trying to find the deer!”

Harley must have enjoyed the pursuit as he watched intently as any deer neared throughout the day. The deer must not have shared the same warm feelings however, as tonight was one of the first nights they did not come to my yard to feed!

Yes, Harley is definitely a horse who desires amusement and stimulation. Fresh snow or the sight of my camera and a minimal command from me prompts a fast run just to feel the wind in his mane and snow fly under his feet. My poor cat Fester is also fair game when she dares venture into the pasture. I’m wondering what will happen when my geese return in the spring as most generally, geese are not amused at being bothered and chased by pesky animals! Harley may just meet his match there!

Harley loves his treats and will wrap his lips around each tasty morsel along with your fingers and half your hand as he hovers up any stray crumbs, luckily he knows better than to use his teeth. He also has a soft spot for my Dad (who has a matching soft spot for his equine grandson!) and frequently knickers at “Grandpa” – something he has yet to do for me much to my chagrin! Harley chews over his thoughts as I teach him new things, his little jaw and mouth working overtime and his eyes squinting at me with questions as he absorbs a lesson. As long as I’m patient enough to let him figure things out, he will do as I ask…in his own time. And yes, Harley does have his mellow moments. A good hard scratch will cause his eyes to close in pleasure and a warm barn or sunbeam will entice Harley to lounge in the soft straw and take a good long nap.

Harley and I are anxious for spring – a time when weather will allow the lessons to progress at a hopefully daily pace. We’re dreaming of chasing up the deer and rabbits along long hilly trails in pursuit of a new partnership under saddle. I just hope the deer, cat and I survive the ride!

January 5, 2010

Enjoying the Storm

Filed under: All My Posts,Farm Life,Horse Talk,Humorous Ponderings,On the Serious Side — Tags: , , , , , — Dawn @ 5:11 pm

I pulled on my heavy wool socks then my insulated boots, insulated bib coveralls and brown duck jacket, a wool hat and heavy gloves. Feeling like that proverbial sausage stuffed into its casing, I clomped my way out the door to do chores. It was one of those record setting cold mornings where the temperature finally bottomed out at -34.

I had tucked the horses into the barn the night before when the temperatures started plummeting – even the house protested the rapid drop with its timbers making loud cracking noises as it adjusted to the temperature. The snow crunched loudly underfoot as I made my way to the barn. Lessons learned in past winters ensured that I inhaled slowly so my nostrils would not freeze shut and also send me into a coughing fit when the blast of cold air hit my lungs. My eyelashes quickly began to frost up giving me perfect white mascara. After scooping some oats into a bucket, I opened the barn door and was met with a gentle nicker from the geldings – always anxious for his morning feed. Their body heat had warmed the barn to a balmy zero degrees during the night and the boys were mellow and sleepy-eyed with pleasure.

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Air is sparse and feels much like the high mountain zone when you’re pitching hay into the feeder rescued from the previous week’s blizzard which piled the snow five feet deep into the corral. Soon, despite the frigid air, I was sweating underneath my layers. Steam rose from the heated water tank creating perfect frosty strings around its edges, goldfish slowly swimming in its depths. I paused to admire the perfect blue skies and the sunshine attempting to raise the temperatures a few degrees. A flash of blue from the still snow-covered pine branches caught my eye along with the shrill call of a Blue Jay in the still air – begging for their peanut breakfast.

Halters removed, the horses slowly made their way to the open barn door – pausing to take in the cold air outside. They stepped out and drank deeply of the fresh cold water – goldfish nibbling at their lips for stray particles of feed. Raising their heads, they alerted me to a magnificent white-tailed buck making his way to the shelter of the pines.

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Harley was the first to run – his youthful exuberance for life showing in the leaps and bounds he took as he plunged through the belly deep snow. His mottled coat of black and white melded perfectly with the cloud of snow rising from his flying hooves. Soon, the older geldings were enticed into participating in the game of snow tag as they ran and sparred in the frigid air. Clouds of vapor emitted from their flared nostrils as they snorted their pleasure.
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Yes, it would be easier to not have animals to care for in these cold winter months as I rubbed my fingers aching from the cold. But then I observed the geldings showing their uninhibited joy at their freedom to enjoy a sunny day – and found my own pleasure in the frigid days of winter.

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