Training 101

The other day when I pulled into the driveway I noticed that one of the little horses was in the yard. Stormy is generally so peaceful and content with life that I was surprised to see her.
She nodded at me and continued eating the day lilies just peaking up. I lead her back to the field gate and put her back in.

Thinking surely there was a place where a limb had fallen and pushed down the fence,  I found nothing when I searched the short section of fence from the barn to the driveway gate.

The next day, two were in the yard. So I checked the fence again. I found a low spot and even though I can't imagine a 3 foot tall mare jumping over a fence I pulled the fence up and tied it with baling twine. You know, one of the those temporary permanent fixes.

The next day, the same two were bad horsies, again.
Stormy and Teddie who is as cuddly as her name were peacefully weeding the iris bed. This time they evaded capture for a bit, but then grudgingly did their horsie duty and went thru the gate.

Ok, what was going on?

I went into the field and looked at the fence from their point of view, and what I saw was more than a bit surprising.
While I was watching, another one climbed a partially eaten round bale and then slid down and thru the gap on the other side into a space along the fence behind the bales...and at the end of the bales was a gap just barely wide enough for a horse to fit!

I went to get tools, and by the time I was back, 3 were in the yard. UGH!

I gave them a scoop of grain in the barn thinking they would be occupied for a while. Before I could get a good look at the problem, there they went, up the hay bale and over the other side. This time they were NOT going back in.

Rufus is absolutely no help with this. He is a great dog, but he thinks they are all his buds and this is play time. He soon had them running circles around the house while I pulled a twisted cattle panel out of the hay and attempted to reset it as a barricade.
Ok, two back in the field, again. The stud colt absolutely refused. No way was he going back in there. He just glared at me "Make me!"

Round and round the house, almost to the barn and then bolt away with a snicker and tail held high. What attitude.

Finally, tired and wanting to go home he tried to find his way back the way he had come...and I cornered him in the space between the bales.
OMG you would have thought he was being murdered. Squalling and squealing and kicking like a tiny bronco. I got a rope on him and he about dragged me across the yard. You would not think a 6 month old mini would have that kind of power. Lots of stops and starts, complaining and snorting (him not me) he was in a stall tied to a post.
Well, yeah, I complained.

Halter time for this pipsqueak. What a baby. He wanted to play with the "big" horses, he can now start to act like one.
I took his little head in my hands and looked him right in the eyes. I calmly told him he had been very, very bad and that he was now going to learn a lesson. You know the mom voice.
He was very submissive as I tried on several halters to get the right fit. Mamma is mad!

Yep, he will think twice about doing that again. Training 101.

For Sale: 

Life Lesson

                           https://www.flickr.com/photos/shookphotos/


When I was a young child I got to go to the small nearby town of Valparaiso to spent the night with a classmate who had moved away.  We had gone to St. Marks Catholic School together and our families lived only a couple of blocks apart in the Glen Park neighborhood of Gary, Indiana. 

Her dad got a better job and one summer she left me. 

  
She came from a huge Catholic family of  9 or 10 children. They had a big redwood pic-nic table in their dining room so her parents could seat everyone at dinner time. I thought that was so cool!

I remember her mother had to go away on 'retreats', to find the energy to go on, I realize now. 
At the time I thought it was just a cool Mom vacation.
  
After begging to spend time together, our parents finally relented. I was so excited.
One summer night we got to giggle and carry on like no time had gone by, even tho it had been an entire school year.
  
The next day we were given permission to walk a few blocks to the small downtown.
Kids could do that stuff then.
Poking around in the  Harvey's .5 and .10  she found a silly plastic purse on display that she had to have, but could not afford.
She was so upset when she counted her money.
But, she had a plan. She thought that she would switch the price tag with one that she could afford, and no one would know! 
I told her I did NOT think that was a good idea, and only watched, having nothing to do with what she was doing. It made me nervous and I am sure we looked very, very guilty hiding behind the purse and belt rack whispering and looking around to make sure no one was watching.
  
Being silly little girls of course we got caught.   The manager met us at the register and escorted us to his big office with huge chairs.
We were scared and crying and I knew her parents would be so mad at her!  The manager told us we could go to PRISION for what 'we' had done! He said he really should call the police and have them take us right then!!!   We cried even louder!
He called our parents, tho, and her dad showed up first since he was an attorney who worked just a couple doors down.
When he walked in, she fell into his arms crying uncontrollably..."Candy made me do it! It was all her idea!!"
I was horrified. In absolute disbelief. Surely she wasn't blaming me...His look at me told me all I needed to know. 
  
I think my mother believed my story, but I never saw my friend again. She was allowed to make one last phone call and told me that her parents had decided I was not the type of friend she should have and that she was no longer allowed to call me. She never apologized. I was so very hurt. 
I think now they must have been supervising the call. 
 
The years went by and I never forgot that day. I never forgot her.
If she was on facebook I would tell her how much I hated her then for what she had done, and how much it hurt. But I would forgive her.

To this day, the idea of stealing makes me sick to my stomach.
Funny how those lessons in life stick with us.

Contributing Factors

Our lives can be broken down into smaller and smaller fragments. 
A year. a day. a minute. a second. And each of those bits contain all the information that we had at the time to make choices. Choices that can be insignificant, or can mean the difference between life and death.  

A group of riders from a nearby stable were enjoying an evening ride on a balmy December day. They ride here often, down the country roads. Mostly, they stay off the pavement and we slow down to pass them so we don't spook the horses. Its a pleasant part of living in the country.  

It was about 5:30 when the accident happened. You know that time of day, when the sunlight slants steeply thru the trees and creates that strobe effect of flashing shadows and light. It also makes every speck of dirt and smeary place on your car windshield look like dense fog.  

Was the driver irritated? distracted? He had likely driven that same road 100 times. Maybe it's like most things we get used to, and roads in particular, the more we drive those curves the faster we can take them. We know when to let up on the gas and when to brake as we approach them.  We live here. We know the road, don't we?  

There isn't much shoulder on that particular curve. The ditches alternate between pretty deep and steep and rough rocky slopes. Thawed mud offers fairly poor footing even for a horse that has been that way before. (because, like us, they learn the road, too).  
In an instant, that particular combination of factors brought tragedy to their lives.  
The car rounds the curve and they are there.  6 riders.  On the roadway hugging the edge of the pavement, treading the fine line between the roadway and the ditch? In the ditch itself? Side by side or single file? 

The impact was brutal.  3 horses down. 3 riders thrown.
The car skids to a stop. Screams in the dark. Shock. Blood. 
And a 911 call.  
The lights of the first responders and the ambulances contrasted sharply with the festive Christmas lights nearby.  Blending in for a second, and then so horribly not.
Within long minutes the county road was blocked solid with police cars and emergency vehicles.   
Red strobe lights created an instant landing pad in our little field for the Air Evac Lifeteam that was on the way.
One of the girls was seriously injured. Did the horse fall on her? Was she thrown free of the animal and landed hard on the rocky ground?  Another was sitting up, and a 3rd...a young man...was holding his leg and yelling out.

The downdraft created by the helicopter created a wind chill I didn't expect.   The car driver stood motionless and watched, cell phone in hand.  Tensed up, with fear? with anger? with the thought of how a split second had forever changed his life, too?

No medical personnel waited on him. No emergency people talked to him.
I asked him if he was OK. Did he need anything. No, he didn't. He paced.   His friend who was with him was defensive...it all happened so fast...they came around the corner and the riders were there...there was nothing they could do!
  
I can't say if speed was a factor, or if they hugged the inside of that curve when they came around. Were they off the road even a little? The stories varied. The human memory is not very precise.

He was upset about his totaled car. For a young person who lives in the country the car is everything. And sometimes people in a tragic situation have to focus on something. Anything. I don't think he could bear to look at the carnage he had inflicted. 
  
After the ambulances and air rescue had taken the injured people away, and the stock trailer had taken the 2 skinned and bleeding horses back to the barn, there was still one life left in that ditch. The black horse couldn't get up. She struggled briefly, and then gave up. Waiting. Two young people held and comforted her.
"Leave her alone!" they screamed. "No pictures!"
The vet advised there was nothing that could be done. The girls sobbed as they comforted their fallen friend.
I had to walk away before I heard the gunshot.
One fatality.

Tecumseh Curves

Just past that curve to the right in the picture below is another sharp curve to the left.
I was on that road.
As I approached that left hand curve there was was something in the road ahead. I hit the brakes. It was a buck deer standing in the middle of the road. I slowed almost to a stop, creeping up to him. He stood his ground.
Around that curve, in the oncoming lane, was a dark pickup truck. Coming around a blind curve way too fast, he slammed into that deer! The deer flew into the air, tumbled, and crashed onto my car! The damage was incredible and I was nearly in shock.
But I had to get off "the curves".
I drove to the bottom of the hill and pulled into the gas station, which was closed at the time. No cell signal!
I half expected the truck driver to turn around and come to check on me. Nope. Hit and run.
By the time I decided to drive up the hill on the other side to get a signal, I was calmer, but boy was I pissed!
I didn't see any point in trying to find the other driver. It had been 10 minutes or so and he was long gone. I don't think he would have been too happy to see me.

 Note: on that stretch of road, there was no where for the deer to go. 100 foot drop, or rock face. He had literally gotten himself between a rock and a hard place.

Dam Ants

The legendary teamwork of ants is only part of the story. They are also very smart!
I have battled with teensie weensie ants this summer like I have never seen before. Tiny things. Maybe a 16th of an inch. I suspect that they came in bags of mulch. 
They have actually given me an opportunity to study them in great detail...not that I wanted to. Interesting little creatures who have invaded my space and in spite of all their talents I want them gone!
What survival skills they have...
They freeze in place on the kitchen counter when I walk into the room...meaning they must have good eyesight. (we have to hit the counter with a fist to get them to run so we can squash them!)
If I lay something on the counter and see no ants, within a few minutes a few scouts come to check it out....indicating a good sense of smell. (and social organization)
They seem to eat anything they can find and being omnivorous means they are not specialized and therefore more likely to survive. I watched them devour an entire cicada in the driveway in two days, and then appear in the front yard swarming an apple.
The bait kind of traps only work for a short time and then they avoid them...does that mean that they learn from their mistakes?  
They live in huge colonies and even tho I have sprayed every crack and have cleaned and searched for any possible food source or entry point, and treated the foundation, their sheer numbers mean that the colony goes on.
I have watched them in the yard as they move their entire colony in stages, carrying the eggs and babies across vast (a few yards) distances to outlying pre-prepared bases of operation. In a summer a colony could move miles! Perhaps splitting multiple times along the way. Many thousands of them participate in the migration, meaning they are very prolific. They will diverge from their migration to take advantage of food along the way...like peanut butter blobs dropped on the grass. Very opportunistic creatures.
Thankfully, after all of this study, I think I finally have them under control. Maybe.
Makes me wonder who is smarter here.

Small Things

When you least expect it, sometimes things happen that can change your world forever.

I was getting gas the other day and, since I am in the process of a major promotion for the We can Make a Difference Benefit Ride, I went inside to pay and drop off some fliers, Unusual since I always pay at the pump for speed.

The helpful clerk directed me to a bulletin board near some tables in the back where several were sitting, likely staying cool on one of our "rarely gets to 100 degrees" days.
As I approached it appeared that a couple of men at one table were involved in a very agitated discussion.
The bulletin board was so close to their table that I had to stand next to them to pin up my flier.

Customary greetings were exchanged: How are you? Hot enough for ya'?
I couldn't help but notice a massive, still stapled surgical wound on the younger mans shaved scalp. Curving over his ear in a wicked looking arch, there was no way I could look away, especially since I was only 2 feet away.

Seeing my look he made eye contact and said very matter of factly, "I have to have brain surgery"
"It looks to me like you already have" I said. "are you going to be OK?"
He went on, "I was in a fight. I was drunk and beat up two guys, but I fell and hit my head on the concrete, and now I don't even know my family."

How do you respond to something like that?

"Oh, my gosh, What are they doing for you?" was all I could manage.

"I escaped" he said.

Fear was written all over his face. The older man with him, head down, may have been a friend, but I think the relationship was closer than that.

"Escaped? From where? Why?"
"The hospital. They told me that I have an aneurism and that I have only a 20% chance of making it thru the surgery".

But I did know how to respond.
"You know, I know a guy..." I started, and had the undivided attention of both of them. It was obvious they were hopeful that I did have something to say.

"He told me a story one day about what happened to him. When he was 16 he was a rising star in the newly popular sport of off road motorcycle racing. This was before the high tech safety equipment and materials that protect riders today. Aggressive and fast, he knew he could win. And win he did. But it's a brutal and dangerous sport, or at least it was when he was a kid.
One day, during a particularly challenging race against opponents who were as determined to win as he was, and at any cost, he didn't make it to the finish line. 
He claims it was intentional, but I'm sure no one will ever really know.  The accident nearly took his life. 
But it didn't. 
He told me there were days he wished it did.
He woke up in a hospital room and didn't know the strangers who sat by his bed. He couldn't remember the accident, or the surgeries.
He realized he didn't know a lot of things anymore. But he was alive. And in time, he gained back some of his memories. Not all. But enough to build his life back. and it is a good life. Working, spending time with his family and friends, having a home."

"So, I can see how scared you are. Anyone would understand that. But you need to go back. Even a small chance to get your life back is worth it."
The older man reached for my hand. 
"Thank you, he said. "It really does make a difference".

"You're going to be OK" I told his struggling friend as I left.
And you know what? I believed that.

Second Chance

I drag the hose around and fill the water tanks daily. I have tall tanks for big critters and short tanks for little critters.
It is amazing how much water they drink!
I filled one of the short tanks first because the tall tank had 8 or 10 inches of water in it. The lambs gathered round for a cold drink. As long as I had the hose there, when the short one was full I moved it to the tall tank and plopped it in...and the water was...moving!
What was going on?
It almost looked like black water coming to a boil at the bottom of a huge grubby stew pot. As I was looking intently at the moving water...up pops a FACE! There is a squirrel standing on his tippy toes in the water. He is just tall enough to keep his face above water. And he is really, really tired.

I yanked the hose out of the tank! The rising water was overwhelming him!
Looking around, I found a stick under the pine trees. With a stick in the water he was able to pull himself up a just few inches. My poor little friend clung onto it as I carried him to the wheel barrow full of feed and laid him in it, gasping for breath.

Of course Rufus thought this had to be his lucky day! But no, I told him to leave it and he obediently sat, quivering in anticipation, watching intently as I went to get a cage for this pitifully saturated little guy. Rufus really, really wanted to grab him. Those squirrels in his yard drive him crazy! He finally had his chance, but no. Mom said no.

I dared not leave my wet friend out as a easy meal. The woods come alive at night. And the darkness was coming. The only place to grab him was his tail. I was a bit concerned he would swing up and take a bite out of my hand, but he was much too weak to struggle.
I picked him up by the tip of his skinny little tail, and he just hung there, resigned to his fate. His eyes locked onto mine.
He is now in the cage drying off and eating his serving of sweet feed.
UPDATE: He is fine. Bouncing off the cage walls like squirrel popcorn. He gets another chance today.