Okay, so now it's down to getting the legal paperwork on the farm buy-in done. We need to have a sales agreement for our purchase of the shares of the LLC drawn up, and have the LLC charter altered to reflect our ownership shares. We've been asking the lawyer to get this done since August 20, 2009.
The urgency now, besides all our asses and the future of the farm hanging in the wind, is that bank needs these documents in order to back the mortgage, allowing us to move forward with the site preparation, ordering and delivery of the house, and the whole rest of our bloody lives.
I began calling the lawyer daily last week. Pleasant, courteous reminder voice mails that we're waiting and we have a deadline. He called Monday this week.
And he's buggering things up...
In all fairness, he's protecting Pat's interest, which he absolutely should do-- that's his job; he's been her lookout for a long time now, and he has every authority to watch her back. We'd insist on it if we weren't the ones he was trying to protect her from. It's quite a conundrum.
The details aren't all that important, but what it's coming down to is that because his job entails daily encounters with divorces gone ugly and property deals gone wrong and all the legal wrangling it takes to undo those things, he's very skeptical of the arrangement we've worked out, which is much more like a succession plan for a family farm than a corporation buyout. He is looking at all the potential nightmares of a deal that is not neat, pretty, mutually ramparted against disaster, and tied up with a bow, and he's not liking what he's seeing.
Well, this deal isn't clean and pretty, but it's the best we three can do. And we all know that, and we all accept the risks, and for godsakes, Marty and I are civilized people who pay our bills on time, treat others with courtesy and respect in all things, particularly matters legal, financial, or otherwise formal, and we are not getting divorced. We have never entered any arrangement lightly, not least of which our marriage, so for godsake, stop looking at the national averages and the NY Post and look at us. We're the real deal and can be trusted.
But isn't that what every swindler says?
It's a very challenging thing to have your integrity, your honesty, your respectability questioned. Particularly by someone who rarely has the opportunity to deal with people as forthright and decent as we are...
So while I don't know that I'd ever say it out loud, I feel compelled to document exactly what we're giving up, what we're sacrificing, what we're getting ourselves into as we enter this arrangement. Yes, we have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enter a life with horses, but it's not that simple.
1. Financial Security-- we are buying a 200 year old farm, with 200 year old barns. At the very least, roofs will need replacing in the next five years. At their size and height, I'm estimating $30,000. We also need to replace a truck ($17,000 minimum) and trailer ($10,000). We'd like to put in electricity in two of the barns so we can actually work after dark-- total bill maybe $5,000 to do it right, safely, and so no one gets electrocuted and no fires erupt. Oh, and plumbing to the far barns would be nice-- let's say $4,500 for that job. And don't forget that we're dealing with horses-- factor in $3,000-$10,000 annually in unexpected repairs, vet bills, and ridiculous miscellany that no one had budgeted for.
Add to that the regular expenses of running this farm-- taxes, insurance, hay, feed, vet bills, farrier bills, routine operational overhead. The reality is that the farm, as running now, isn't paying for these things. It's going to take a good five years of pouring money into operations just to get it back on its feet and breaking even. And that money is going to be ours...
For all this potential and certain expense, we are giving up our current debt-free, paid-for, 30 year old house with all major systems (heat, appliances, etc.) less than 5 years old, and two payment-free vehicles that could keep us going for another five years or so before we have to make the investment in a new one. Yay!
2. Free Time-- we aren't buying a hobby farm. This is a working farm, with 11 horses owned by the farm, our two horses and 3 boarders. These animals require 24 hour supervision 365 days of the year. It's too many animals, requiring too much specialized care, and too dangerous a proposition, to leave it in the hands of a pet-sitter (if you can even find one you trust who is willing to do it for a fee you could afford) for more than half a day. So that means that for the next 25 years, while the horses are all still living, we do not go away for the weekend, go away for a week at the beach, go away to my parents' house overnight. We are responsible for being there, at the farm, every 8 hours. We can go to work, but right back home (to do more work) after that.
And that doesn't even begin to address the hours of work that we'll be doing while we're there. Farms require constant, vigilant maintenance. All the things we know need repairing are enough to fill evenings and weekends for the next three years, and in just that time, half again as many things in good repair now will have fallen into disrepair and need addressing. The work of daily care (turnout, mucking, bedding, watering, haying, feeding, turnin, etc.) and facility maintenance alone is never ending; add to that 5 young horses that need training in order to make them decent sales prospects or lesson horse candidates. There will be no free time for at least the next five years. And don't get me started on haying and what that job takes-- completely on its own agricultural schedule, regardless of our needs...
3. Privacy-- again, this isn't a private residence. This is a boarding and training stable, which means that the place is always at the mercy of the arrival of the public-- boarders and prospective clients arrive any old time they please. Lesson students and people with horses in training tend to schedule in advance, but even some of those folks just pop in, hoping we can drop everything because they have a free hour this afternoon. Photographers, nature buffs, and horse lovers drop in whenever they please, wander the property, and require hauling oneself up from the dinner table to go outside and see what the person leaning over the stallion pasture gate is up to... We give up any chance of calling our home our own private castle; we enter the realm of running a public zoo.
4. Freedom from responsibility-- with this venture, we take on responsibility for the lives and health of 16 horses, three (and periodically more) boarding families, more than a dozen client families, and one 72 year old partner. We buy this farm and we have to make daily care decisions for the horses, and react to every new incident they put in our way-- injuries, illnesses, damage to facilities, oddities of behavior or health, etc., etc. And we have to care for the needs of our boarding clients-- enough space and privacy and entitlement for each, not too much for any one, barn drama potentialities. Plus the same for our lesson and training clients, each of whom has his or her own particular quirks and oddities.
Plus we enter this partnership with a woman as old as our own aging parents. We deal every day with the question of how much she can do, how much longer she can do it all, when she's going to need a break, when and how her body is going to insist on a break. And we take on all her end of life responsibilities... she has no family to come in and care for her in her old age, we become her family responsible for caring for her if she becomes ill, injured, or otherwise incapacitated. We will be the people making decisions about how much extraordinary life-extending care she receives. If we are lucky enough to live out our natural lives, the reality is that we will be the people witnessing her death and making her funeral arrangements.
And beyond that, we are responsible, liable, every minute of every day for the safety of anyone who enters our property. Trespasser, boarder, lesson student, meter-reader-- anyone gets hurt out there and files a lawsuit, and we likely lose the whole thing. "Attractive nuisance" is, I believe, the legal definition of a horse farm-- people who have no idea how to be safe there are drawn to it, and if they get hurt, it's our fault.
We could very easily, for half the monthly payment and none of the responsibility, board our two horses at a local boarding stable and go on about our lives. Then we'd be free to vacation, relax, go to the barn if we want or not, and basically live the lives of two people who make a decent living and have no responsibilities other than themselves, their dogs, and their aging parents.
---
This is not a care-free, easy, just go play at the farm arrangement we're getting into. We know that. We understand that. We've thought about it long and hard and come to the decision that we're up to the challenges and we're about to make a bed that it will be very hard to lie in for a while. We enter this arrangement knowing full well what we're taking on, and that we're doing it voluntarily. And truth be told, we've been doing it for well over two years already, without the security that our efforts, money, and time is going to any cause other than keeping things barely afloat for the time being-- doing it with absolutely no safety net at all.
It just pisses me off that, after all this, the integrity of our marriage, our ability to pay the bills, and our business relationship to Pat is being questioned by a guy who never has dirt under his fingernails and has absolutely no idea the work it takes to do what we're doing.
I'm glad he's looking out for her, but I'm feeling pretty squeezed here...
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
The Bank
It's January, and my goal for January was to get moving on the financing of the farm/house purchase. It was a mixed week, but it ended well today!
On Tuesday, I phoned our credit union, which has held three car loans, a home-improvement loan, a home-equity loan, and all our paychecks for the nearly 18 years we've been married. We're at the point with this credit union that, when it's time to buy a car, we call and say, "we're going car shopping," and they say, "okay, you can spend up to XXX. Call us when you need the check." And their XXX figure is always outrageously more than we'd ever spend on a car. (It's just a car, for chrissakes!)
So we have a history, a good credit rating, and a familiar relationship.
So I called on Tuesday to ask for a sit-down to talk out the eccentricities of buying this farm thing. It's an odd deal, since we're buying into partnership on the LLC that owns the land of the farm, and then asking to borrow more money to put up our housing...on the land that is owned by the Farm LLC, into which we've just bought... so, it's a little more complicated than just a regular mortgage, particularly since we've decided on the double-wide...those are a whole other kettle of fish. So we need a sit down.
So I call up and introduce myself and say I'd like to schedule a time to discuss financing around our purchase of a farm. The girl says, "Is it a working farm?" And I, all proud as can be not to be one of those poseur hobby-farmers say, "Oh, yes!" and the girl says, "We don't loan to working farms."
"Huh?"
So I say, "well, really we're just looking for financing of a residence at the farm, not financing for the farm itself." And the girl asks, "Is the residence going to be on a working farm?" "Uh, yes." "We don't deal with working farms."
So I said, "Seriously? Not at all? Not even a home equity loan against our current, non-farm house?" and she says, "Hold on, let me ask," and puts me on hold. Pause. Pause. "Um, ma'am, we can't do any lending with working farms."
Wow. I am thunderstruck. No idea this would be the response. And after being thunderstruck, I start to get anxious. Shit...our primary lending agency won't have anything to do with us... WTF do we do now? Holy crap, is the mortgage crisis in America so screwed up that we're dead in the water before we get started?
So...I send an email to the Bank, yes, Bank, not Credit Union, different entity entirely, that holds the Farm's business banking accounts and detail the entire plan-- that we're buying into the LLC, that we want to put up a double wide, what our estimates are, what our credit rating and current debt load are, what our city house is valued at, and the fact that we intend to sell the city house AFTER moving into the doublewide that we're asking to finance. I figure, shit, get it all out there in the email and see what happens before even getting terribly involved.
So in about an hour, I get a really friendly email back from the branch manager, who is also a loan officer, that he's pretty certain they can help us out, and he'd love to sit down and talk with us-- when would we like to come in?
Well, that's a friendlier reception, so I'm at least optimistic about that. I set up an appointment for Friday morning before work.
And then I fret for the rest of the week... running scenarios, agonizing about the weirdness of the transaction, worried that our credit, while rated really well, is just a sham and that we have no money and no one will think us a good risk.
And then my car craps out on me. Current estimate-- $400, but we won't know until that work is done whether more work needs doing, and the parts for the $400 job have to be ordered, so I'm out a car and looking at putting the next paycheck, which was supposed to go to paying the school taxes at the city house, into the damn car.
Fret, freak, stew, worry.
Finally Friday comes this morning, and it's snowing a bastard out. The usual 30-minute drive to the farm takes 50-minutes, so I stop in, grab some financing paperwork, throw some carrots at the kids, and hope to be able to get the loaner car back up out of the farm driveway, over the plowed-to-the-side hump of snow, and get to the bank in time. Or at all.
Get to the bank, ask to meet with Mr. XXX, and the teller goes, Mr. XXY? Yes, that's it; I suck at names, particularly when I'm nervous. Mr. XXY comes out, has me into his office and we begin.
And it all gets better from there. He's got a full rundown of what I sent him in the email--- he paid attention, knows who I am and what I want. That doing of homework is so often NOT done these days that I'm super-appreciative.
Then, he says he is 3rd generation dairy farmer. His kids are in 4-H. His wife runs the 4-H horse group in Waverly. Wait a minute, I say, didn't we host them for a farm tour and demo last December? Yes, yes we did.
His kids ride horses; his daughter is looking for a horse to upgrade to now that she's outgrown her pony. He knows exactly where our farm is, and even knows what kind of trailers we use-- "the little ones, right? Look like you could put a bale of hay in them, and that's all?"
So this guy speaks our language, knows us, knows farming, knows inter-generational succession-planning issues inside and out.
And he thinks financing this operation is a no-brainer. From the great credit and collateral that we bring to the table to the incredible investment any land purchase is in the era of gas-lease-mania, to the immaculate condition we keep our fences in, he thinks this is a brilliant opportunity for us, and something the bank should back.
Holy shit.
We talk more about some of the legal buggery and the hitches and bumps to get past, but he's convinced we can do it. The only question for him is whether this is a commercial mortgage loan (since the LLC owns the land) or a personal mortgage loan (to a partner in the LLC). He has to talk to his commercial lending guy and will get back to me on Monday.
And then we keep talking. He's a farmer; his dad, uncle, and brothers are farmers; his granddad ran the farm, with the farm checkbook in his shirt pocket in the hospital until two days before he died. He wants his kids to have a secure future, but sure as hell wants them to have the farm, too. He gets it.
And then he mentions a neighbor of ours, and I say, "Oh, Paul-- he's our contractor; he's doing the site prep!" And he goes, "Beetle! Oh, he's great; he'll do a great job for you!"
It's all small-town, friendly, farm-oriented, familiar... and I am so relieved.
So much of this stuff, all along the unexpected, unfamiliar way, has felt pre-ordained, like someone has laid out this path especially for us... today was another touchstone along the way. Try to cling to the familiar, the safe, the established (like our Credit Union) and get rejected. Step out into the ether, and find a beautiful safety net stretched out below.
Who knows? It could all fall apart and turn to shit, but right now it feels like it might just work out.
On Tuesday, I phoned our credit union, which has held three car loans, a home-improvement loan, a home-equity loan, and all our paychecks for the nearly 18 years we've been married. We're at the point with this credit union that, when it's time to buy a car, we call and say, "we're going car shopping," and they say, "okay, you can spend up to XXX. Call us when you need the check." And their XXX figure is always outrageously more than we'd ever spend on a car. (It's just a car, for chrissakes!)
So we have a history, a good credit rating, and a familiar relationship.
So I called on Tuesday to ask for a sit-down to talk out the eccentricities of buying this farm thing. It's an odd deal, since we're buying into partnership on the LLC that owns the land of the farm, and then asking to borrow more money to put up our housing...on the land that is owned by the Farm LLC, into which we've just bought... so, it's a little more complicated than just a regular mortgage, particularly since we've decided on the double-wide...those are a whole other kettle of fish. So we need a sit down.
So I call up and introduce myself and say I'd like to schedule a time to discuss financing around our purchase of a farm. The girl says, "Is it a working farm?" And I, all proud as can be not to be one of those poseur hobby-farmers say, "Oh, yes!" and the girl says, "We don't loan to working farms."
"Huh?"
So I say, "well, really we're just looking for financing of a residence at the farm, not financing for the farm itself." And the girl asks, "Is the residence going to be on a working farm?" "Uh, yes." "We don't deal with working farms."
So I said, "Seriously? Not at all? Not even a home equity loan against our current, non-farm house?" and she says, "Hold on, let me ask," and puts me on hold. Pause. Pause. "Um, ma'am, we can't do any lending with working farms."
Wow. I am thunderstruck. No idea this would be the response. And after being thunderstruck, I start to get anxious. Shit...our primary lending agency won't have anything to do with us... WTF do we do now? Holy crap, is the mortgage crisis in America so screwed up that we're dead in the water before we get started?
So...I send an email to the Bank, yes, Bank, not Credit Union, different entity entirely, that holds the Farm's business banking accounts and detail the entire plan-- that we're buying into the LLC, that we want to put up a double wide, what our estimates are, what our credit rating and current debt load are, what our city house is valued at, and the fact that we intend to sell the city house AFTER moving into the doublewide that we're asking to finance. I figure, shit, get it all out there in the email and see what happens before even getting terribly involved.
So in about an hour, I get a really friendly email back from the branch manager, who is also a loan officer, that he's pretty certain they can help us out, and he'd love to sit down and talk with us-- when would we like to come in?
Well, that's a friendlier reception, so I'm at least optimistic about that. I set up an appointment for Friday morning before work.
And then I fret for the rest of the week... running scenarios, agonizing about the weirdness of the transaction, worried that our credit, while rated really well, is just a sham and that we have no money and no one will think us a good risk.
And then my car craps out on me. Current estimate-- $400, but we won't know until that work is done whether more work needs doing, and the parts for the $400 job have to be ordered, so I'm out a car and looking at putting the next paycheck, which was supposed to go to paying the school taxes at the city house, into the damn car.
Fret, freak, stew, worry.
Finally Friday comes this morning, and it's snowing a bastard out. The usual 30-minute drive to the farm takes 50-minutes, so I stop in, grab some financing paperwork, throw some carrots at the kids, and hope to be able to get the loaner car back up out of the farm driveway, over the plowed-to-the-side hump of snow, and get to the bank in time. Or at all.
Get to the bank, ask to meet with Mr. XXX, and the teller goes, Mr. XXY? Yes, that's it; I suck at names, particularly when I'm nervous. Mr. XXY comes out, has me into his office and we begin.
And it all gets better from there. He's got a full rundown of what I sent him in the email--- he paid attention, knows who I am and what I want. That doing of homework is so often NOT done these days that I'm super-appreciative.
Then, he says he is 3rd generation dairy farmer. His kids are in 4-H. His wife runs the 4-H horse group in Waverly. Wait a minute, I say, didn't we host them for a farm tour and demo last December? Yes, yes we did.
His kids ride horses; his daughter is looking for a horse to upgrade to now that she's outgrown her pony. He knows exactly where our farm is, and even knows what kind of trailers we use-- "the little ones, right? Look like you could put a bale of hay in them, and that's all?"
So this guy speaks our language, knows us, knows farming, knows inter-generational succession-planning issues inside and out.
And he thinks financing this operation is a no-brainer. From the great credit and collateral that we bring to the table to the incredible investment any land purchase is in the era of gas-lease-mania, to the immaculate condition we keep our fences in, he thinks this is a brilliant opportunity for us, and something the bank should back.
Holy shit.
We talk more about some of the legal buggery and the hitches and bumps to get past, but he's convinced we can do it. The only question for him is whether this is a commercial mortgage loan (since the LLC owns the land) or a personal mortgage loan (to a partner in the LLC). He has to talk to his commercial lending guy and will get back to me on Monday.
And then we keep talking. He's a farmer; his dad, uncle, and brothers are farmers; his granddad ran the farm, with the farm checkbook in his shirt pocket in the hospital until two days before he died. He wants his kids to have a secure future, but sure as hell wants them to have the farm, too. He gets it.
And then he mentions a neighbor of ours, and I say, "Oh, Paul-- he's our contractor; he's doing the site prep!" And he goes, "Beetle! Oh, he's great; he'll do a great job for you!"
It's all small-town, friendly, farm-oriented, familiar... and I am so relieved.
So much of this stuff, all along the unexpected, unfamiliar way, has felt pre-ordained, like someone has laid out this path especially for us... today was another touchstone along the way. Try to cling to the familiar, the safe, the established (like our Credit Union) and get rejected. Step out into the ether, and find a beautiful safety net stretched out below.
Who knows? It could all fall apart and turn to shit, but right now it feels like it might just work out.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Going Modular...
Unbelievably, we think we've settled on a solution to the "how do we live at the farm?" question. We're going to put in a...gulp...doublewide.
I have serious issues with the concept of putting a modern, built-in-a-factory housing unit on a 200 year old farm, but I'm coming to terms with them. I am, I must admit, an architecture snob, and a hand-crafted connoisseur, so the entire question of plopping down a mass-produced, designed with an etch-a-sketch box of a house on this lovely, pastoral landscape with the hand-hewn 200 year old barns and built brick-by-brick 200 year old house is psychically unsettling...
But then I look harder at the unit we've settled on. It's better insulated, and frankly, better built than the stick-built ranch house we live in now, which was built in a hurry by average to not-so-hot contractors after the 1972 flood. And it's twice the square footage in a footprint and layout that works much more efficiently for the way we live, and the way we will live at the farm.
There's a mudroom/laundry room entrance which leads into the master bath with a walk-in shower-- perfect for those muddy dogs who decide they want back in after having rolled in the manure pile.
There's an amazing galley-style kitchen coming in from that mudroom entrance.
The family room is at the far end of the house from the master bedroom, allowing Marty his guitar and playstation time at hours long past my bedtime. There's a fireplace in the living room, the room that will likely be my study and hangout room. I love a fireplace!
And there's a dining room, something we've longed for from about three weeks after buying our current house that doesn't have one.
There's a lot going for this house-on-wheels, house-in-a-box. I think if we can figure out how to afford it, and can live through the next few months of working out all the details of site preparation, installation, and moving in...not to mention putting our current house on the market and doing the work it takes to make it really sellable...oh, and running the farm while we're both working full time, it will really and truly be worth our time and efforts.
After all, we'll reduce our daily commute to the barn from 30 miles to 600 yards. And this will be the view from the kitchen, dining room, family room, and back bedroom:
And this our view out the front:
Right now, we have the contractor pencilled in for the first week in April. If the weather and work cooperates, we could be moved in by Memorial Day 2010. Six months to pull it all together...
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Two Year Old Geldings and Teenage Boys
We had a buyer come look at Stormy today. It went pretty well, I think. I really do like this person as a horsewoman—for our horse or someone else’s horse. She’s being very smart and very long-range in her thinking, which I like. Which also means she’s being careful and thoughtful in her processes, so I have no idea whether it’s a match or not. She seemed quite pleasantly surprised at how “big” Stormy’s gaits really are—that stocky build fools you, and she was pretty impressed by how much leg he takes up with his giant barrel body and how much impulsion he has on those short legs. Happy surprise for her! She also liked his brain—it’s pretty obvious when he’s thinking and working out what you want,and she's a thinking horsewoman who wants a thinkng horse. So I don’t think she saw anything not to like, but after many years of training off-the-track thoroughbreds and young horses, she is at an age where she's decided she's about to buy her last new horse, and she’s being very careful. But it went as well as it could have, and we’ll just see.
Sherman was the real surprise hit of the day! He’s been a little shit for the last couple of weeks—- he had a growth spurt, timed with a reduction in work as we’ve been both busy and on Stormy’s case. The combination has, in the past, proven to produce a bratty little shit horse, and this time has been no exception. So he’s high on my list for work this week. Brought him in, and he was a SHIT for grooming—I was grooming with a brush in one hand, and a crop in the other he was so bad— paw, paw, whack! Nip, nip, whack! And so on. When I took the halter off to put his bridle on, he lurched forward and tried to run over me. “That’s it!” I said, “I’m going to work your ass off!”
So we went to the big ring and Pat lunged him for a while, and he pulled his usual round of silly escapades that follow a break in training— full headstand bucks at the crupper while trotting (and while cantering, without breaking stride—- he’s talented) non-stop, blasting through “Whoa!” and other 2-year old nonsense. He finally settled down into a working routine, but he had that teenage hands-on-hip, gum-smacking sneer about his body language—he was all but screaming, “I’m so bored with this routine; what is it with you old ladies that you don’t get how over this I am?”
So, Pat changed the subject. She went ahead and put the second lunge line on him, and lunged him a bit that way. Immediate change in demeanor. He was thinking. He was quiet, he was respectful. He was interested in the process. Totally what happens to teenage boy when you give him something interesting to think about… he stops breaking street lights and starts fixing car engines…
Then, we stepped behind him and just, viola, began long-lining. We’ve taken steps in this direction before, but with his “Wahoo!” behavior each time he’s had time off, we were thinking it’d be three or four sessions in this week before we got to this. But no, he just walked off like he’s been doing it all his life. “Walk on. Whoa. Gitup.” --all totally responded to, all sweet as pie. Completely different horse from both the biting, charging shit from before the work and the wild, bucking thing during the early work. And he hadn’t even broken a sweat at this point, so it’s not that he was tired out…
So, he was so good, we left the ring. Just marched out, around the garden, down the lane to the barn, up the lane to the house, back down to the barn and done. He was amazing. Other than a momentary desire to chase the chickens (he could be a cow pony!), he was perfect, like he’s been doing it all his life. Stood like a gentleman in the cross ties for un-tacking, walked out to pasture like a pro.
Little shit. My life with Sherman is going to be all about keeping him occupied and interested or else he’s going to get me in deep trouble…
Sherman was the real surprise hit of the day! He’s been a little shit for the last couple of weeks—- he had a growth spurt, timed with a reduction in work as we’ve been both busy and on Stormy’s case. The combination has, in the past, proven to produce a bratty little shit horse, and this time has been no exception. So he’s high on my list for work this week. Brought him in, and he was a SHIT for grooming—I was grooming with a brush in one hand, and a crop in the other he was so bad— paw, paw, whack! Nip, nip, whack! And so on. When I took the halter off to put his bridle on, he lurched forward and tried to run over me. “That’s it!” I said, “I’m going to work your ass off!”
So we went to the big ring and Pat lunged him for a while, and he pulled his usual round of silly escapades that follow a break in training— full headstand bucks at the crupper while trotting (and while cantering, without breaking stride—- he’s talented) non-stop, blasting through “Whoa!” and other 2-year old nonsense. He finally settled down into a working routine, but he had that teenage hands-on-hip, gum-smacking sneer about his body language—he was all but screaming, “I’m so bored with this routine; what is it with you old ladies that you don’t get how over this I am?”
So, Pat changed the subject. She went ahead and put the second lunge line on him, and lunged him a bit that way. Immediate change in demeanor. He was thinking. He was quiet, he was respectful. He was interested in the process. Totally what happens to teenage boy when you give him something interesting to think about… he stops breaking street lights and starts fixing car engines…
Then, we stepped behind him and just, viola, began long-lining. We’ve taken steps in this direction before, but with his “Wahoo!” behavior each time he’s had time off, we were thinking it’d be three or four sessions in this week before we got to this. But no, he just walked off like he’s been doing it all his life. “Walk on. Whoa. Gitup.” --all totally responded to, all sweet as pie. Completely different horse from both the biting, charging shit from before the work and the wild, bucking thing during the early work. And he hadn’t even broken a sweat at this point, so it’s not that he was tired out…
So, he was so good, we left the ring. Just marched out, around the garden, down the lane to the barn, up the lane to the house, back down to the barn and done. He was amazing. Other than a momentary desire to chase the chickens (he could be a cow pony!), he was perfect, like he’s been doing it all his life. Stood like a gentleman in the cross ties for un-tacking, walked out to pasture like a pro.
Little shit. My life with Sherman is going to be all about keeping him occupied and interested or else he’s going to get me in deep trouble…
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Knowing When They Need You
So my goal for this morning was to groom the Rouxster. No reason, other than just checking in with her and being too tired to really do much else. And I've been reading threads about some of the other Saddlebred Rescue horses who went to homes the same summer she did finally being put down. They've all had a few good years at home, but age and so many years of malnutrition and hard work have been catching up to her peers. So I'm feeling pretty sensitive about her, and just want to spend some time communing with her. So I get her out and get started grooming, and she’s all happy with that.
I get to the off side, and suddenly realize she has a huge softball-sized lump on the side of her throat, right by her jowl, sort of hidden in her winter coat and floopy ASB neck skin-- nothing you'd notice until you’re looking for it, and then there it is, large as life.
My first thought is Oh no, she’s growing a tumor.
Second thought is a resigned Crap, but this is not completely unexpected. Third thought is but, wow, it grew fast—I just groomed her last week, and it wasn’t there.
So I brush a little more, then start feeling the lump, which is very tender, and she doesn’t like having it touched very much. Poke around, feel around, pry around, and voila! I find a leeetle tiny tick attached. Probably already ate itself to death, but still attached. Not engorged, but clearly it has been recently. And the softball-sized lump is my poor, sensitive Roux's typical over-reaction to any bug bite.
So I slather it with goo & alcohol and eventually get the sucker pulled out, head and all, and Roux is very, very happy! Very relieved to have the thing off of her, very relieved to have me stop picking at her, and delighted to get an apple and go out.
So, evidently, she needed me to groom her today.
And this isn't the first time I've had a strange feeling about her, gone out to tend to her for no reason whatsoever, and discovered her in some sort of distress-- kicked by a pasture-mate, in the throes of an allergic reaction, something. She do have dat voo-doo, Roux do, and she do be tellin' me when she needs something.
Someone else in the barn is talking to us, too.
Tank, senior stallion, Sherm's dad, and farm patriarch was not so hot today. He's been declining slowly all summer, losing much of his eyesight, and, we suddenly realized about a month ago, most of his hearing. But he's been doing okay, living the solitary life of a stallion, at home in his home of 24 years-- he's been managing.
Pat saw him down in his pasture last week, which is unusual. He'll sleep flat-out on his side in his stall, but never outside. As a lone horse, he doesn't have a watcher to guard over him and let him sleep outside. So Pat's initial reaction was, "oh no..." and she watched and waited. After about five minutes, he picked his head up and got up, at about average pace for a horse his age. But he then staggered a bit and was very, very hesitant for another five minutes before he slowly moved off. She said he appeared to have no idea where he was, or to be unsure of his feet, or perhaps he couldn't see at all for a moment after sleeping in the sun.
In any case, it was a big leap forward on the path to the end of his journey. He's on our watch list right now, sad as it makes us. We're watching to ensure his safe, peaceful, and comfortable end-- for he deserves that; we owe him that grace, comfort, and dignity.
So this morning he was again off in his his behavior, and his return to us was slower than we'd like. When I went to get him to put him out for the day, he was at the back of his stall, resting in the sunshine coming in the window. He may have been asleep, or he may have been sort of checked-out. I went to get him, and he just spooked & trembled and looked at me with the scaredest face-- I don't think he was seeing me at all, possibly just a shadow. I backed off and waited for about five minutes, and he eventually made his way to the front of the stall, but he spooked again as I went to halter him. I did get him outside, but he went out, then came back to the door and seemed to want in. Pat and I scratched his neck and gave him a cookie and sent him on his way, but he’s really withdrawing from us. He's been on my mind all day, for I know that we'll be lucky to have him still with us by Christmas.
Tank really is the heart and soul of Foxwin. He has been the breeding stallion in residence since the farm came to this location. He came here as a two-year old and launched the second generation of Foxwin horses. He was injured in a pasture accident just after arriving, and the vet said that if he survived, he'd never be sound, never be a riding horse, maybe just a driving horse. Pat believed in Tank and in his potential, so she put him to pasture for four years. She started him under saddle at six years old, once he was fully, fully recovered. She took him to 3rd level dressage, made him her primary lesson schoolmaster, and bred him carefully to produce some of the finest Morgan foundation stock in the Northeast. His whole life was a miracle and a testament to the patience, wisdom, good judgment of good horsemen, and to the fiery heart that is a Morgan horse. Anyone who has known him, and especially those who have had the pleasure of riding him, has come away a changed and better person. We will never be the same again, and Foxwin will be truly changed when he is gone.
It is terribly sad to know that he may leave us soon, but this is the part of the deal where we must give back and know when they need us to kindly thank them and let them go after all they have done for us.
It won't be this week, and probably not next week. If we're lucky, it won't be for some time to come...but it's coming. And it's just sad.
But that's okay; he's an honorable horse who deserves a lot of tears and mourning. Anything less would be disrespectful of his greatness. And one thing Tank will always demand is respect. And some extra hay, while you're at it...
I get to the off side, and suddenly realize she has a huge softball-sized lump on the side of her throat, right by her jowl, sort of hidden in her winter coat and floopy ASB neck skin-- nothing you'd notice until you’re looking for it, and then there it is, large as life.
My first thought is Oh no, she’s growing a tumor.
Second thought is a resigned Crap, but this is not completely unexpected. Third thought is but, wow, it grew fast—I just groomed her last week, and it wasn’t there.
So I brush a little more, then start feeling the lump, which is very tender, and she doesn’t like having it touched very much. Poke around, feel around, pry around, and voila! I find a leeetle tiny tick attached. Probably already ate itself to death, but still attached. Not engorged, but clearly it has been recently. And the softball-sized lump is my poor, sensitive Roux's typical over-reaction to any bug bite.
So I slather it with goo & alcohol and eventually get the sucker pulled out, head and all, and Roux is very, very happy! Very relieved to have the thing off of her, very relieved to have me stop picking at her, and delighted to get an apple and go out.
So, evidently, she needed me to groom her today.
And this isn't the first time I've had a strange feeling about her, gone out to tend to her for no reason whatsoever, and discovered her in some sort of distress-- kicked by a pasture-mate, in the throes of an allergic reaction, something. She do have dat voo-doo, Roux do, and she do be tellin' me when she needs something.
Someone else in the barn is talking to us, too.
Tank, senior stallion, Sherm's dad, and farm patriarch was not so hot today. He's been declining slowly all summer, losing much of his eyesight, and, we suddenly realized about a month ago, most of his hearing. But he's been doing okay, living the solitary life of a stallion, at home in his home of 24 years-- he's been managing.
Pat saw him down in his pasture last week, which is unusual. He'll sleep flat-out on his side in his stall, but never outside. As a lone horse, he doesn't have a watcher to guard over him and let him sleep outside. So Pat's initial reaction was, "oh no..." and she watched and waited. After about five minutes, he picked his head up and got up, at about average pace for a horse his age. But he then staggered a bit and was very, very hesitant for another five minutes before he slowly moved off. She said he appeared to have no idea where he was, or to be unsure of his feet, or perhaps he couldn't see at all for a moment after sleeping in the sun.
In any case, it was a big leap forward on the path to the end of his journey. He's on our watch list right now, sad as it makes us. We're watching to ensure his safe, peaceful, and comfortable end-- for he deserves that; we owe him that grace, comfort, and dignity.
So this morning he was again off in his his behavior, and his return to us was slower than we'd like. When I went to get him to put him out for the day, he was at the back of his stall, resting in the sunshine coming in the window. He may have been asleep, or he may have been sort of checked-out. I went to get him, and he just spooked & trembled and looked at me with the scaredest face-- I don't think he was seeing me at all, possibly just a shadow. I backed off and waited for about five minutes, and he eventually made his way to the front of the stall, but he spooked again as I went to halter him. I did get him outside, but he went out, then came back to the door and seemed to want in. Pat and I scratched his neck and gave him a cookie and sent him on his way, but he’s really withdrawing from us. He's been on my mind all day, for I know that we'll be lucky to have him still with us by Christmas.
Tank really is the heart and soul of Foxwin. He has been the breeding stallion in residence since the farm came to this location. He came here as a two-year old and launched the second generation of Foxwin horses. He was injured in a pasture accident just after arriving, and the vet said that if he survived, he'd never be sound, never be a riding horse, maybe just a driving horse. Pat believed in Tank and in his potential, so she put him to pasture for four years. She started him under saddle at six years old, once he was fully, fully recovered. She took him to 3rd level dressage, made him her primary lesson schoolmaster, and bred him carefully to produce some of the finest Morgan foundation stock in the Northeast. His whole life was a miracle and a testament to the patience, wisdom, good judgment of good horsemen, and to the fiery heart that is a Morgan horse. Anyone who has known him, and especially those who have had the pleasure of riding him, has come away a changed and better person. We will never be the same again, and Foxwin will be truly changed when he is gone.
It is terribly sad to know that he may leave us soon, but this is the part of the deal where we must give back and know when they need us to kindly thank them and let them go after all they have done for us.
It won't be this week, and probably not next week. If we're lucky, it won't be for some time to come...but it's coming. And it's just sad.
But that's okay; he's an honorable horse who deserves a lot of tears and mourning. Anything less would be disrespectful of his greatness. And one thing Tank will always demand is respect. And some extra hay, while you're at it...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Mid-October
It's been a while, and a busy, successful time at the farm, but now I feel winter approaching. The 40-degree days and light snow this week didn't help quell that seasonal anxiety any, though I know it's too early, really, to think winter is here. But preparations are under way.
The glass panes have all been re-installed in the stall windows in the dairy and tobacco barns. The mow is full of what we now believe to be all the hay we'll need to get us through until the grass is lush again in May. The heated water buckets are clean and ready to install when it gets that cold. The horses are on day turnout, and in all night again. This uses more bedding, of course, so we're drawing up plans to have enough sawdust on hand.
The cycle continues.
The list of major projects has been whittled down-- most have gotten done, with a few to finish before the bad weather drives us inside and circumscribes our planning. Today will be a number of putter projects-- small things that get left out when something major has to be done, but now add up to a full day's work. Dragging the ring, cleaning manure from the stallion pastures, installing an EZ-loader tarp roll to the pickup, and measuring & planning for next weekend's big project-- replacing the main door to the dairy barn. Before winter sets in, I'd like it to work smoothly and well, so that'll be the next gig.
And the sun seems to be shining this morning, which is a pleasant change from the past several days...
Friday, June 12, 2009
Mid-June Already
I say this every time I have to write a check and have to figure out what the date is, but, sheesh...time is flying.
I look back at the last time I actually sat down to post, and I see that it was about Gem's injury-- well, to update, that little bugger has healed marvelously. The docs at Cornell, and our own vet, too, said that the flap of skin she ripped open (about the size of an English muffin) would die and slough off, but that they'd stitch it down to keep the flesh underneath as protected as possible while new flesh grew.
Surprise-- it never sloughed off! A small crescent-shaped band, about the width of a wooly-bear caterpillar, and about 3.5 inches long (if stretched length-wise) did die right at the edge where the stitches were, but the rest healed right back in place and has allowed Gem to return to horse life much, much sooner than any of us anticipated.
A number of factors went into this remarkable recovery, including the quick visit to Cornell, the great work by the surgeon there, the massive anti-biotics coursing through Gem's system, the regular and proper changing of bandages and maintenance of pressure on the wound, and some damn fine Foxwin Morgan hardiness genes. Amen and thank you, Jesus, for all of those things.
Above all that, however, was this little filly's personality. She took to being a patient like no three year old horse I could imagine. She hung out in her stall for days and nights on end while all her friends frolicked and played and called to her from the pasture, all while the good, green grass was coming on deliciously. But Gem stuck it out. She could watch horses from inside the barn, and she always had the company of either her dad, Tank, or her half-brother, Sonny, but she was stuck in a 10 X 10 stall for three weeks during the great spring playing weather. And she never complained. Never banged her bucket, kicked a door, or shoved at a visitor. She stood for bandage changing, and she choked down huge amounts of bitter-tasting antibiotics. (Huge amounts...there's a reason they call enormous tablets of medicine "horse pills"!) She was chipper and friendly and had the patience of Job.
I fell in love with her a little more through it all. And I suspect she may never be leaving our farm, though she is still, technically for sale. She earned a place as children's lesson pony once she's trained-- she demonstrated the courage, patience, and kindness that job requires, and the little ones will fall in love with her...
And now she's out and about, ripping around with the rest of them. Some days she comes to the gate first, knowing how nice and quiet it is inside, without the flies. She may have become a bit of a hothouse flower...ewww....there are flies out here....ewwww...it's hot out.... but that's okay; she's earned it.
And summer at the farm is just taking off with busyness and chaos.
The retiring partner has found an apartment back in her hometown, near her adult children, and is in the process of weeding through 25 years of accumulated belongings as she prepares to move at the end of June. It's a slow process for anyone, but things pile up on a farm, things you think you might need someday, might be able to fix or sell or give to someone who needs it. Suddenly, you look back and realize you've got more than anyone will ever need or want or use, and now it's your duty to deal with it.
So, it's boxes and trips to the goodwill and decisions and garbage and chaos. And that's just in the house, where things are usually quiet.
Outside, on the acreage, it's verdant chaos as well. The lawn and plants and gardens and trees are green and overwhelming. The riding lawnmower broke a week ago, and it was already a week past due for mowing at that time...push-mowed a lot of it last week, but not all of it, and it's already due again, and the rider is still at Agway awaiting repair...
The haymow has been cleaned out of chaff and waste from last year's hay, awaiting the influx of this year's. If the weather is good to us next month, we should be able to put up 1,000 of our own bales, and put our name on 3,000 additional bales from the hay Riches... if it's not good to us, and we lose some like last year, we buy more and hope the Riches have better luck than we did.
(By the way, we realized coming out of this winter, that the horses looked GREAT, better than they had in a couple of years-- the Riches' hay kept them in fine form, fit and healthy, and we're delighted!)
We've fenced in the new addition to the farm this spring-- six chickens. Can't tell yet for certain, but it looks like four hens and two roosters...getting them as chicks, you take your chances on gender. But two dinners and some laying hens is a pretty good balance.
We've fenced the large riding ring, which is fantastic, and if we could only get ahead of the weeds, it would be perfect. We have a request in to some friends with a weed-killer tank & spray attachment on their ATV, and hope to have a defoliation plan in place by the end of the month.
We've cleaned out and hoed out and tossed another small paddock worth of old posts and fence materials, preparing it to be re-fenced with all new for the Sr. Stallion to move into. Better he mow it and keep the grass & weeds down than us! Besides, he'll like his new digs, where he can keep an eye on everyone and greet visitors. Just a matter of financing the fencing now...and doing the labor!
The horse training is coming more slowly than I'd hoped, as we work through miserable weather, a long list of facilities chores, and the moving of the partner. Sherman and I have had some very good work sessions, and I'm really, really impressed with his maturity. I've found a bridle and bit combination that fits him well, and we've begun work in-hand in earnest. His longe work continues to be ahead of his age group, as he is wearing full surcingle, cavesson, side reins, bridle, and longe-line. On a couple of occasions, at the end of our longeing session, I have stepped further and further behind him to see how he will react to the line running down his back, and to having a person behind him-- all in preparation for ground-driving and eventual carriage-driving-- and he has been brilliant. He seems to almost get more comfortable with someone behind him, as though he was made for it. He's going to be fantastic.
The others, well, we're slow and behind. I'd wanted to get Stormy going well under saddle with Pat again this month and, by July, be riding him myself. So far, in two weeks, we've had two sessions with him, both of which indicated to us that he needs daily work for a while before we're ready for me to take over his training. And we're just not finding the time... that is frustrating.
The lesson program is bustling, lots of people getting the riding bug now that summer is about here. The income for the farm is good, and I am learning a lot about teaching riding, but some days I am a bit frustrated at the time it takes away from all the work that needs to be done...
But it will come. Once the partner has moved out and the hay is in, the summer will settle in to a regular routine of daily work and long, warm evenings. All that is good and wonderful about summer in upstate NY comes on in July and August; it's just always June that's such a catch-up month. We'll get there...
I look back at the last time I actually sat down to post, and I see that it was about Gem's injury-- well, to update, that little bugger has healed marvelously. The docs at Cornell, and our own vet, too, said that the flap of skin she ripped open (about the size of an English muffin) would die and slough off, but that they'd stitch it down to keep the flesh underneath as protected as possible while new flesh grew.
Surprise-- it never sloughed off! A small crescent-shaped band, about the width of a wooly-bear caterpillar, and about 3.5 inches long (if stretched length-wise) did die right at the edge where the stitches were, but the rest healed right back in place and has allowed Gem to return to horse life much, much sooner than any of us anticipated.
A number of factors went into this remarkable recovery, including the quick visit to Cornell, the great work by the surgeon there, the massive anti-biotics coursing through Gem's system, the regular and proper changing of bandages and maintenance of pressure on the wound, and some damn fine Foxwin Morgan hardiness genes. Amen and thank you, Jesus, for all of those things.
Above all that, however, was this little filly's personality. She took to being a patient like no three year old horse I could imagine. She hung out in her stall for days and nights on end while all her friends frolicked and played and called to her from the pasture, all while the good, green grass was coming on deliciously. But Gem stuck it out. She could watch horses from inside the barn, and she always had the company of either her dad, Tank, or her half-brother, Sonny, but she was stuck in a 10 X 10 stall for three weeks during the great spring playing weather. And she never complained. Never banged her bucket, kicked a door, or shoved at a visitor. She stood for bandage changing, and she choked down huge amounts of bitter-tasting antibiotics. (Huge amounts...there's a reason they call enormous tablets of medicine "horse pills"!) She was chipper and friendly and had the patience of Job.
I fell in love with her a little more through it all. And I suspect she may never be leaving our farm, though she is still, technically for sale. She earned a place as children's lesson pony once she's trained-- she demonstrated the courage, patience, and kindness that job requires, and the little ones will fall in love with her...
And now she's out and about, ripping around with the rest of them. Some days she comes to the gate first, knowing how nice and quiet it is inside, without the flies. She may have become a bit of a hothouse flower...ewww....there are flies out here....ewwww...it's hot out.... but that's okay; she's earned it.
And summer at the farm is just taking off with busyness and chaos.
The retiring partner has found an apartment back in her hometown, near her adult children, and is in the process of weeding through 25 years of accumulated belongings as she prepares to move at the end of June. It's a slow process for anyone, but things pile up on a farm, things you think you might need someday, might be able to fix or sell or give to someone who needs it. Suddenly, you look back and realize you've got more than anyone will ever need or want or use, and now it's your duty to deal with it.
So, it's boxes and trips to the goodwill and decisions and garbage and chaos. And that's just in the house, where things are usually quiet.
Outside, on the acreage, it's verdant chaos as well. The lawn and plants and gardens and trees are green and overwhelming. The riding lawnmower broke a week ago, and it was already a week past due for mowing at that time...push-mowed a lot of it last week, but not all of it, and it's already due again, and the rider is still at Agway awaiting repair...
The haymow has been cleaned out of chaff and waste from last year's hay, awaiting the influx of this year's. If the weather is good to us next month, we should be able to put up 1,000 of our own bales, and put our name on 3,000 additional bales from the hay Riches... if it's not good to us, and we lose some like last year, we buy more and hope the Riches have better luck than we did.
(By the way, we realized coming out of this winter, that the horses looked GREAT, better than they had in a couple of years-- the Riches' hay kept them in fine form, fit and healthy, and we're delighted!)
We've fenced in the new addition to the farm this spring-- six chickens. Can't tell yet for certain, but it looks like four hens and two roosters...getting them as chicks, you take your chances on gender. But two dinners and some laying hens is a pretty good balance.
We've fenced the large riding ring, which is fantastic, and if we could only get ahead of the weeds, it would be perfect. We have a request in to some friends with a weed-killer tank & spray attachment on their ATV, and hope to have a defoliation plan in place by the end of the month.
We've cleaned out and hoed out and tossed another small paddock worth of old posts and fence materials, preparing it to be re-fenced with all new for the Sr. Stallion to move into. Better he mow it and keep the grass & weeds down than us! Besides, he'll like his new digs, where he can keep an eye on everyone and greet visitors. Just a matter of financing the fencing now...and doing the labor!
The horse training is coming more slowly than I'd hoped, as we work through miserable weather, a long list of facilities chores, and the moving of the partner. Sherman and I have had some very good work sessions, and I'm really, really impressed with his maturity. I've found a bridle and bit combination that fits him well, and we've begun work in-hand in earnest. His longe work continues to be ahead of his age group, as he is wearing full surcingle, cavesson, side reins, bridle, and longe-line. On a couple of occasions, at the end of our longeing session, I have stepped further and further behind him to see how he will react to the line running down his back, and to having a person behind him-- all in preparation for ground-driving and eventual carriage-driving-- and he has been brilliant. He seems to almost get more comfortable with someone behind him, as though he was made for it. He's going to be fantastic.
The others, well, we're slow and behind. I'd wanted to get Stormy going well under saddle with Pat again this month and, by July, be riding him myself. So far, in two weeks, we've had two sessions with him, both of which indicated to us that he needs daily work for a while before we're ready for me to take over his training. And we're just not finding the time... that is frustrating.
The lesson program is bustling, lots of people getting the riding bug now that summer is about here. The income for the farm is good, and I am learning a lot about teaching riding, but some days I am a bit frustrated at the time it takes away from all the work that needs to be done...
But it will come. Once the partner has moved out and the hay is in, the summer will settle in to a regular routine of daily work and long, warm evenings. All that is good and wonderful about summer in upstate NY comes on in July and August; it's just always June that's such a catch-up month. We'll get there...
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