620 Bricks on the Ground

For the past two days all I've pretty much done (except for the few hours I've spent sending out resumes) is load bricks, unload bricks, and lay out bricks.

See, the town about 20 miles away that I grew up in has always had a bricked main street.

But that's all about to change. They're ripping up all the bricks and paving the road smooth.

The good news, for me at least, is that they are giving away the bricks for free. I'm trying to take advantage of all the free bricks and finish my landscaping project I started this spring, documented here.

This meant I had to pull up all the bricks I already laid because they didn't match, but it's worth it. I think I'll use those bricks for the porch up by the house. The larger, redder bricks don't have quite as much character as the old fireplace bricks, but they are free, and there are plenty of them, so I'll be able to take this path all the way around to behind my horse shelters and even use them to pave the tie-area, so I'll have a nice place to groom and tack up my horses.

Of course I'll need to set them in properly eventually, but for now I am just laying them out to make sure I'm picking up enough. I also have to run electricity to the shelters before I set the bricks in.

One more project I'll be doing is creating a white trellis with a seat to put right under that tree (between the trunk and the light pole) facing the horse pens, so on nice evenings I can relax and watch the horses eat. I'll move some of the trumpet vine to that trellis so it won't hurt anything, and then I'll plant some shade-loving hedge behind it, sectioning off that part of the back yard so it will make for a neat little private area.

I also managed, with Dad's help on Sunday, to get some of the fencing put up by the horse shelters. I haven't ordered gates yet so I had to put a regular panel up, plus we need to order a lot more fencing for the posts in the foreground.

But at least it is set up so the horses can get to their shelters now. Thankfully we haven't had much in the way of rain or storms so they've been doing well with the windbreaks. Now they can finally have their proper shelter back.

The horses all enjoyed inspecting the area once I turned them out.

Then the turkeys felt they needed to inspect, or perhaps supervise the unloading of the bricks.

I swear they think they are "helping."

What they really do is stand on the bricks I'm trying to move, see their reflection in the glass and start peeping to themselves.

They really are the oddest, funniest creatures.

They remind me of family....

A storm came through and interrupted my work.

I wouldn't complain, but it didn't rain a single drop, so I fully intend to complain, dern it.

The chickens knew it wasn't going to rain. They stayed out doing what chickens do....

In this case, going through my compost pile looking for insects.

The chickens have also figured out that the horses drop all sorts of goodies from the grain buckets after feeding time.

I think Bambi can spare a few crumbs for her feathered friends....

By the way, I announced on Facebook and Twitter, but in case you missed it, Bambi ultra-sounded in foal to Almighty! One single, perfect embryo--crystal-clear on the screen, too. Vet estimated her at 22 days which would make her due date April 22, 2012. I'll get her checked at 60 days as well, just to make sure she doesn't absorb.

Lots done, lots to do, and lots to look forward to!

~J

He's Still Here

When I uploaded this picture, I was awestruck at how much Bambi...

...looks like her sire.



Then yesterday, I took this picture of Fabian. Again, I see a very familiar face...



...that reminds me of Eddie, in one of my favorite pictures of him.



Now Paula doesn't hold a strong physical resemblance to her daddy,



but the similarities in character are uncanny.


Eddie passed away almost a year ago, and yet, I still get to see him--in his kids that I have here--everyday. I feel truly blessed, not only to have had the honor of owning this great horse, but to also have his legacy. Just like he did, they always bring a smile to my face.

Bambi's Not a Hunter-Jumper

Sunday I made a quick trip with my Dad to Wichita and was back by early afternoon. Good thing, too, because when I got home, half my horses had themselves in quite a predicament.


When I drive up I usually glance over to make sure everyone looks ok, and they did on this particular afternoon. What I didn't know, though, was that although I could see everyone standing in the corner, that Bambi was actually on the other side of the fence--the wrong side of the fence--in the corner, and Fabian had several strands of wire wrapped around his back pastern.

I went inside and changed and came back out to let the horses out onto the grass. Since the bermuda has just started to grow I've been keeping the horses penned up off of it, but I let them out for a couple of hours at a time, so they still get to stretch their legs and graze. In the meantime, they get extra alfalfa to keep them occupied when in the dry lot.

So anyway, I come around the corner and immediately notice that Bambi is on the wrong side of the fence. Since I use that area to mostly ride in, or if I do have a horse in it, the gate is usually open to the dry lot, I have no water tank in there. My first concern was to get Bambi to where she could get water, and that was her idea, too. I opened the gate and she ran in and headed straight for the water tank. She must have been over the fence for while.

After Bambi ran in the other horses went out the gate, and as Fabian went through I noticed a wire on the ground. I bent over to pick it up and it moved. My eyes followed it up and saw that the end of it was wound tightly around Fabian's pastern, right below his fetlock. Crap.

Immediately I walked in front of Fabian and told him to "whoa." I ran my hand down his back leg and he reacted--not really a kick, but you could tell it was bothering him. I couldn't tell if the wire had gone into the skin. There was no blood, which was a good sign, but not an absolute sign that it wasn't in the skin. Plus, he was dragging the wire. If one of the other horses stepped on it, it could sever his foot. I was in a panic, but tried to work calmly and purposefully so as not to alert Fabian. He's a sensitive boy and reacts strongly to people's emotions, so I tried best to hide mine.

It didn't really work, though. The more I tried to get the wire off the more he moved and the more I paniced. I finally decided to take a chance that he'd be ok for a minute while I got a halter and some wire cutters. I ran to the garage for the wire cutters, then to the feedroom for a halter and lead and when I got back, Fabian was thankfully ok. However, Mr Sensitive knew something was up and wasn't really sure he wanted to be caught.

Let me take a moment to explain something about Fabian. He's a horse that can sense the slightest change in a person's behavior, tone of voice, level of stress--anything. There has only been twice, well, three times counting Sunday afternoon, that he has not let me catch him. The first time was when he first got here from Missouri and he just didn't trust me. The second time was after Paula and I had our worst ride ever. Neither time did I get upset. When Paula and I weren't doing well, I didn't even so much as raise my voice. I did tie her up for a while so we could both calm down, but even that didn't help, and I finally just searched for any good note, no matter how small to end on and we called it a day. Thankfully we've worked through those issues with the help of the clinic we went to, but that day that Paula and I had such a hard time, Fabian wanted no part of me. Although I wasn't showing it, he could just sense that things had not gone well. He's very insightful for a horse.

So, on this day, he knew I was paniced, and although I kept my body language and voice calm, it's almost like he could feel my heart racing clear across the pen. He ran into the dry lot and I closed the gate, and after a minute of walking after him he stopped and let me halter him. Thankfully he had not caught the wire he was dragging on anything, but every second of that chase was heart-stopping for me. I was frazzled.

I led him over to a safe place to tie him and then started working on the wire with the wire cutters. This time he kept perfectly still, almost seeming to finally realize that I was trying to help him and in two seconds: "snip!" The wire came right off and the skin wasn't even broke. Talk about a close call!

The wire had been a hot wire across the top of the panels to keep the horses off the fence. I'm so glad that worked so well.

Now that Fabian had been tended to I turned my attention back to Bambi. I feared what I would find--had she sliced her belly open? I looked her over and she only had a piece of skin missing off her back leg that was smaller than a dime. Surprisingly neither she, nor (less importantly) the fence had suffered any damage. It's almost a five foot tall fence and yet this little 15H, stocky mare had almost cleared it. What the heck had they been doing?

Bambi seems to fancy herself a hunter-jumper, but I wish she'd realize she doesn't have the build for it. It's sort of analogous to me trying to be an olympic gymnast.

Flying through the air with the greatest of ease,

This Week in Pictures--Horses

I snapped a few pictures of the horses over the past week and finally got them downloaded to my computer, so I'm going to just post them all at once. There will be no directive, no cohesion and certainly no point to this post, other than "oh look how cute my furry, four-legged, hooved kids are!"

Case-in-point:

Seriously, just look at this face.

OK, I admit. I'm a little partial to my own horses. But regardless of my rose-colored glasses, I really am so grateful to have them in my life.

Even just watching them have their dinner gives me such peace.

They really dig their oats....

Really dig them....

Bambi, are you going to come up for air?

I love this time of year, too. The horses are just about all shed out and their shiny, beautiful summer coats are showing through.

Especially on a horse like Betty, whom I've never seen in her summer glory (since I got her just this winter). It's fun to see how much roaning she has as she sheds.

And then, to top it all off, Betty is so incredibly sweet.

Just...

So...

Sweet!

Fabian is a sweetheart, too.

Betty is his groupie, by the way. Much to Fabian's dismay, they are practically joined at the hip.

As a sidebar to this sickingly sweet, overindulgent bragging on my horses, almost two years ago Fabian had a bought of strangles that was so bad he even had a node burst on the side of his head. Thankfully everyone recovered, but Fabian's nodes under his chin are now permanently swollen. He is perfectly healthy and they don't have anything in them. I was curious if any of my readers have ever encountered this. It's no big deal, other than it might alarm someone who might think he's sick.

Fabian doesn't like to share his food with his groupie.

Betty just doesn't understand, Fabian needs all the food he can get. He's wasting away!

Just like his owner *cough*,

Bambi's Story

Looking at these two girls in this photo here, I feel an enormous sense of pride, not only for what they are, but for what they've become, despite the neglect they suffered at the hands of others.

It's hard to get a grasp on the latter unless you know their history. Here is Bambi's story.

I bred Bambi's mother and then traded her to a friend of mine who thought she'd be a good 4H horse for her daughter. As what happens with many of us, life got in the way, and she sold Bambi's pregnant momma to a lady that I knew in Missouri.

I was tempted at the time to warn her. After all, I knew this lady for often having problems with keeping her horses in good condition. Sometimes they would be fine, other times I was shocked at what I saw there. I always had hoped that each time she set things right, it would be for good. I wanted so badly to believe the best in people, but so many times have sadly been proven wrong. This was one of those times.

I said nothing, hoping that since it was Eddie's foal (my stallion who she claimed to like so much) that she would be especially careful to take responsiblity for the care of this mare and foal. I was so disappointed to find out otherwise.

When Bambi was born I was living in Kansas City, so I made the hour trek up north to see the mare and foal. I was saddened by what I found. The mare was skin and bones. Fortunately the foal seemed healthy, albiet it small, but I worried about them both, especially considering the condition of the mare, and the woman met me out front with them both--I could not see the other horses to see if this was a unique circumstance or not. I offered to buy them alfalfa, to get the mare back in better shape and help her growing foal, but was turned down. I was told she would put them on some better feed and all would be fine, so I left and hoped for the best.

A couple of months later, I was contacted by the woman asking if I knew of anyone who would want to buy the mare. She said she was still in poor condition. I contacted my friend whom I had gotten the mare from and she was (oh so thankfully) willing to help me save the mare, and maybe, in some way, we could manage to save the foal as well. I was told she wanted $600 for the foal, which neither of us had, but my friend agreed to take both the mare and foal and we'd either buy the foal or take her back. Maybe, in the meantime, we could come up with the money, but at least we could get them fed.

I had to make a choice that day, between moving my sister and saving Bambi's life. I chose the latter and while it wasn't fair to my sister, even though I showed up after hours of driving to help move her, but it's not a choice I regret making. Seeing Bambi now healthy, standing out in my pasture, makes it worth it. Who knows what might have happened to her had so many people not pulled together to save her.

That day I woke up early and went an hour south to retrieve my horse trailer (I was living in an apartment at the time) at a friend's house, but the lights would not work (it was so early it was still dark out and I could not go through Kansas City without trailer lights), so I had to phone the lady who had the horses and ask if I could use hers. I had no other choice. Thankfully she agreed, so I went an hour north of Kansas City and picked up the mare and foal. They were so thin and so weak that I immediately drove to TSC, bought a bucket and some beet pulp and sat in the parking lot for half an hour, letting it soak enough that I could give it to them. The mare ate it up but the foal was so lethargic, she would only lay there. I feared she might not even make the trip.

I drove everyone back to an hour south of Kansas City where I'd meet up with my friend at our mutual friend's place. I was grateful to see the filly still alive when we arrived. I got them out of the trailer and put them in a stall, thinking I probably wouldn't ever see this little filly again. She was so weak, so pitiful-looking, that I couldn't see how she could survive the five-hour trip to my friend's house and still go through rehabilitation. It's difficult for an adult horse, let alone a two-month old filly who had never had the nutrition she so desperately needed.

I took the trailer back an hour north of Kansas City and explained the situation and my friend's assessment to the lady. I was honest--that we didn't expect her to make it, but would keep her informed. I left and cried all the way back home. Although my sister was mad at me, I was glad she had found someone to help her move. I was exhausted.

When my friend got Bambi and her momma home, the next day, they took this picture of Bambi:

She had survived the trip. She called me and we discussed the situation. Should we put her down? Even if she did live through it, would she ever be able to thrive? She was the most "downed" 2-month old filly we had ever seen.

Just for comparison, when I had an orphaned filly, she looked like this at 2-months old (one on the right). It's hard to believe that Bambi had suffered more than even an orphaned filly had.

Bambi's momma was in such bad shape that she had stopped giving milk entirely:

It was really a sad situation. A nursing mare needs an enormous amount of feed just to maintain her condition, let alone recover and feed a recovering filly. I had a serious conversation with the lady that we got them from. This rehabilitation would take a lot of time and money and was still not guaranteed. It was plausable that the filly should perhaps be put down, as she had not had the nutrients she needed to grow properly. Would she ever be able to be a normal, healthy horse? Asking $600 for the filly was unreasonable--could a compromise be reached?

After some negotiation, I agreed to trade a stock-trailer full of delivered prairie hay, a saddle and saddle blanket for her. Our mutual friend south of Kansas City allowed me to buy the hay from her at a discounted rate, so when I say that many people helped save Bambi, I mean it was truly a community effort. Friends did everything they could to help.

When I delivered the hay, the lady brought out a little puppy and, having lost my beloved Layla only a week before to cancer, I couldn't bear to give the puppy back. She kissed my nose and that was that. I named her Sophie.

Little did I know how far ahead I would have ended up out of this terrible ordeal--to have both Bambi and Sophie in my life, now. It's proof that things do sometimes happen for a reason.... And after only a week or two of good feed, though, both mare and baby were looking better.

The filly was perking up and the mare's milk came back in. When I went to visit a month later, I couldn't believe the filly's progress!

This little filly, Bambi, who was smaller and weaker than a fawn when we picked her up, had blossomed into a strong, healthy, gorgeous filly.

Since I lived in an apartment, I did post her for sale shortly. I am so glad no one was interested in her. I got my place south of Kansas City and immediately took her off the market.

My dear friend who brought Bambi back to life, brought her to me and she has been with me ever since.

Then we came to Kansas, and she happens to look gorgeous here, too....

Looking at her now, it's hard to imagine that this brickhouse of a mare came out of such hardship.

And now, instead of crying tears over her situation, there are only tears of joy, of thankfullness, that such a wonderful filly is in my life.