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…
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
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...
Saturday, April 25, 2009
7:30 A.M. Saturday Gem Update
Cornell called at 2:30 a.m. with the good news that they were able to suture the flap back down, and the joint capsule was not broken—just an ugly, ugly flesh wound in a stinkin' place.
Greatest danger over the next 24-48 hours is infection, so they’re keeping her for the weekend.
Cautious, very cautious, optimism all around.
Gem’s probably up there stealing hearts right about now…keep good wishes coming...
Greatest danger over the next 24-48 hours is infection, so they’re keeping her for the weekend.
Cautious, very cautious, optimism all around.
Gem’s probably up there stealing hearts right about now…keep good wishes coming...
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday Night Trip to Cornell
It was the phone call I'm always expecting. Marty & I had settled in with a video and some snacks when the phone rang at 8:15...we don't really talk to people on the phone that much, so when it rings, I'm always certain it's Pat, the barn owner, with a crisis. So far, it never has been.
Tonight it was.
"How would you feel about a trip to Cornell tonight?" Pat asks. My heart drops, then starts racing.
"What happened?"
"Gem has lacerated her fetlock...pretty good...might be into the joint...Ed (vet) doesn't want to take a chance; wants her to go to Cornell..."
Cornell University http://www.vet.cornell.edu/hospital/equine.htm is the ace in the hole we never want to use, but are so, so grateful to have sitting there. It's the shit, equine-veterinary-wise, the best place to go, and it's right up the road. But, damn, if you've got to go there, it's serious, and it's going to cost. So if Pat's considering going, it's serious.
"How did it happen?"
"Don't know... she came to the gate to come in for dinner this way. Don't know how long it's been..." tension, exasperation in Pat's voice.
"Okay, let's go..."
Pat's got neighbors with a big trailer coming to haul Gem; I'm the backup sit-up-all-night and bring Pat home person, the second handler, the other regular human Gem knows. Pat's not sure Gem will load-- she's only three and has never been on a trailer before, never been off the farm; she's just a baby http://www.flickr.com/photos/foxwinfarm/sets/72157604881329145/
So I drive to the farm (30 miles) to find that the neighbors and Pat have just gotten Gem loaded, and it's just about pitch dark out now, and it's time to motor. I'm to follow the trailer. No problem, I can see that thing in the dark. I haven't, however, had a chance to see Gem, so I don't know how bad the laceration is, or what state she's in. They gave her a mild tranq to get her loaded, and that seems to have gone well. But now we have a rookie riding in the trailer, one who's doped and has an injured leg...let's hope she can stay upright and not hurt herself worse on the ride.
Since we're leaving for Cornell from 30 miles east of where I live, we're taking a route I don't know. It's pitch dark; it's back roads; it's a long way from home, and I'm worried about Gem. I'm also running low on fuel in my car. I'd estimated I'd have enough based on the route to Cornell that I know, but now I have no idea where we are, where we are going, and how long it will take.
They stop the trailer at one point to check on Gem...she seems to be doing fine. Since we're near a gas station, I say I'll get gas, they should go ahead, and I'll catch up. So I get gas, but damned if I can catch up...they have disappeared. I'm trying to fiddle with my GPS to verify where the hell I am, trying to drive catch-up quickly over two-lane back country hilly, curvy roads in the dark, and I hit some damn button on the GPS that renders it non-functional. I'm beginning to panic-- what if they've made a turn they didn't tell me about? Where the hell am I? How am I ever going to find them?
After about 10 minutes of this panic, which feels like three hours, I see the trailer up ahead; I have finally caught up, and have somehow managed not to run off the road or into a deer or a dog or anything.
Follow...follow...follow...interminably long trip up, up, up the hills of Ithaca, through the 78 stop lights of downtown, up, up, up, and finally we are at the Equine Hospital.
And we don't know if we can get the poor kid off the trailer. She's never been on one; it's a step-up/step-down (not a ramp) loader, and she's got to step down onto an injured leg. And she's still slightly drugged. She could face-plant in the parking lot and do a bunch of damage.
But, damn, if she isn't her daddy's girl-- she steps off, wobbles a little on the bad leg, then catches herself and follows Pat right into the hospital-- a big, bright, scary, strange place she's never seen before-- just like she's been there every day of her life. I love this little horse a little more for this.
The students (for this is a teaching hospital) gather 'round, a bit sleepy, a bit without direction. We find out that the cheif surgeon is in emergency surgery with a colic case, so the students have to do our intake themselves, without her guidance. They do it like most things college kids do...with that mix of confidence and group-speak that belies their insecurities. Eventually, they get Gem's paperwork together, get a look at the joint, and decide that the surgeon really is the one who needs to see it. She's going to be a couple more hours at least...so we need to get Gemmy-Gem a stall and set up for an overnight stay.
Overnight stay just made the cost of this injury $1,500 at least. If all they do is flush the wound and give her some anti-biotics, it's closing in on two grand. And this for a horse whose sale price is $2000-$3000 tops. Uh-oh. If it requires sutures, $2,000 easy. IF it requires sedation to do the sutures, $3-$4,000. Uh-oh.
And we don't know the extent of the injury-- just flesh? Enough of a challenge in the lower limb of a horse. Poor circulation makes healing lower leg injuries, even the most minor ones, very challenging. Add to that the environmental issues of a stable, and keeping even a flesh wound clean enough to heal is a problem.
If it damaged the capsule of the joint itself? Infection almost certain. Fusing of the joint. Crippling debilitation possible.
Stress of the injury always bears a relationship to laminitis, which is also crippling, can be life-threatening.
(For a quick overview of leg lacerations and their challenges-- warning, not for the faint of heart...or stomach: http://www.acvs.org/AnimalOwners/HealthConditions/LargeAnimalEquineTopics/GeneralWoundManagement/ )
So the whole frigging thing is a slippery slope...or could be...and even with the greatest care in the world at Cornell, even if cost were no object, recovery & recuperation are not guaranteed. So this is one shitty thing to be facing, even after we've made the journey to the Mecca of equine vet care.
But we leave Gem in the students' hands and decide to make our way home.
In the dark, nervous, worried, and coming out of a street I've never driven on, I swing too wide on a one-way street, and over-shoot my lane right into a curb that separates the driving lane from the railroad tracks. Bend the rim, slash the tire.
Great. It's 11:30 at night, 50 miles from home, we've got an injured horse, and now a flat tire.
I do believe I said "Fuck!"
So, we pull into the Greyhound station, dutifully change the tire to the ridiculous donut-- goddamn american cars and their cheap-ass shit mechanical systems. Go the hell out of business, you cheap assholes, you deserve it.
Change the tire; call Marty to meet us 20 miles out from home to shepherd us back in, just in case the cheap-ass shit donut doesn't get us there. Call Pat's housemate to come get her at the same place, since I'm not driving any further than I have to on this donut.
Drive the 50 miles home at no greater speed than 45 mph. Get Pat to her ride; drive home; get the car to the tire place. Get home. Deep breath.
And now cry. For all of it...for the scary, for the worry, for the stress, for the fucking flat tire that we didn't need, for the uncertainty of Gem's injury and prognosis, for the uncertainty of being able to afford the treatment. For all of it.
Go to bed at 1:45 a.m.
Can't sleep.
Blog at 2:00 a.m.
Feel a little clearer, if not better, at 2:38
More when we know more...
Tonight it was.
"How would you feel about a trip to Cornell tonight?" Pat asks. My heart drops, then starts racing.
"What happened?"
"Gem has lacerated her fetlock...pretty good...might be into the joint...Ed (vet) doesn't want to take a chance; wants her to go to Cornell..."
Cornell University http://www.vet.cornell.edu/hospital/equine.htm is the ace in the hole we never want to use, but are so, so grateful to have sitting there. It's the shit, equine-veterinary-wise, the best place to go, and it's right up the road. But, damn, if you've got to go there, it's serious, and it's going to cost. So if Pat's considering going, it's serious.
"How did it happen?"
"Don't know... she came to the gate to come in for dinner this way. Don't know how long it's been..." tension, exasperation in Pat's voice.
"Okay, let's go..."
Pat's got neighbors with a big trailer coming to haul Gem; I'm the backup sit-up-all-night and bring Pat home person, the second handler, the other regular human Gem knows. Pat's not sure Gem will load-- she's only three and has never been on a trailer before, never been off the farm; she's just a baby http://www.flickr.com/photos/foxwinfarm/sets/72157604881329145/
So I drive to the farm (30 miles) to find that the neighbors and Pat have just gotten Gem loaded, and it's just about pitch dark out now, and it's time to motor. I'm to follow the trailer. No problem, I can see that thing in the dark. I haven't, however, had a chance to see Gem, so I don't know how bad the laceration is, or what state she's in. They gave her a mild tranq to get her loaded, and that seems to have gone well. But now we have a rookie riding in the trailer, one who's doped and has an injured leg...let's hope she can stay upright and not hurt herself worse on the ride.
Since we're leaving for Cornell from 30 miles east of where I live, we're taking a route I don't know. It's pitch dark; it's back roads; it's a long way from home, and I'm worried about Gem. I'm also running low on fuel in my car. I'd estimated I'd have enough based on the route to Cornell that I know, but now I have no idea where we are, where we are going, and how long it will take.
They stop the trailer at one point to check on Gem...she seems to be doing fine. Since we're near a gas station, I say I'll get gas, they should go ahead, and I'll catch up. So I get gas, but damned if I can catch up...they have disappeared. I'm trying to fiddle with my GPS to verify where the hell I am, trying to drive catch-up quickly over two-lane back country hilly, curvy roads in the dark, and I hit some damn button on the GPS that renders it non-functional. I'm beginning to panic-- what if they've made a turn they didn't tell me about? Where the hell am I? How am I ever going to find them?
After about 10 minutes of this panic, which feels like three hours, I see the trailer up ahead; I have finally caught up, and have somehow managed not to run off the road or into a deer or a dog or anything.
Follow...follow...follow...interminably long trip up, up, up the hills of Ithaca, through the 78 stop lights of downtown, up, up, up, and finally we are at the Equine Hospital.
And we don't know if we can get the poor kid off the trailer. She's never been on one; it's a step-up/step-down (not a ramp) loader, and she's got to step down onto an injured leg. And she's still slightly drugged. She could face-plant in the parking lot and do a bunch of damage.
But, damn, if she isn't her daddy's girl-- she steps off, wobbles a little on the bad leg, then catches herself and follows Pat right into the hospital-- a big, bright, scary, strange place she's never seen before-- just like she's been there every day of her life. I love this little horse a little more for this.
The students (for this is a teaching hospital) gather 'round, a bit sleepy, a bit without direction. We find out that the cheif surgeon is in emergency surgery with a colic case, so the students have to do our intake themselves, without her guidance. They do it like most things college kids do...with that mix of confidence and group-speak that belies their insecurities. Eventually, they get Gem's paperwork together, get a look at the joint, and decide that the surgeon really is the one who needs to see it. She's going to be a couple more hours at least...so we need to get Gemmy-Gem a stall and set up for an overnight stay.
Overnight stay just made the cost of this injury $1,500 at least. If all they do is flush the wound and give her some anti-biotics, it's closing in on two grand. And this for a horse whose sale price is $2000-$3000 tops. Uh-oh. If it requires sutures, $2,000 easy. IF it requires sedation to do the sutures, $3-$4,000. Uh-oh.
And we don't know the extent of the injury-- just flesh? Enough of a challenge in the lower limb of a horse. Poor circulation makes healing lower leg injuries, even the most minor ones, very challenging. Add to that the environmental issues of a stable, and keeping even a flesh wound clean enough to heal is a problem.
If it damaged the capsule of the joint itself? Infection almost certain. Fusing of the joint. Crippling debilitation possible.
Stress of the injury always bears a relationship to laminitis, which is also crippling, can be life-threatening.
(For a quick overview of leg lacerations and their challenges-- warning, not for the faint of heart...or stomach: http://www.acvs.org/AnimalOwners/HealthConditions/LargeAnimalEquineTopics/GeneralWoundManagement/ )
So the whole frigging thing is a slippery slope...or could be...and even with the greatest care in the world at Cornell, even if cost were no object, recovery & recuperation are not guaranteed. So this is one shitty thing to be facing, even after we've made the journey to the Mecca of equine vet care.
But we leave Gem in the students' hands and decide to make our way home.
In the dark, nervous, worried, and coming out of a street I've never driven on, I swing too wide on a one-way street, and over-shoot my lane right into a curb that separates the driving lane from the railroad tracks. Bend the rim, slash the tire.
Great. It's 11:30 at night, 50 miles from home, we've got an injured horse, and now a flat tire.
I do believe I said "Fuck!"
So, we pull into the Greyhound station, dutifully change the tire to the ridiculous donut-- goddamn american cars and their cheap-ass shit mechanical systems. Go the hell out of business, you cheap assholes, you deserve it.
Change the tire; call Marty to meet us 20 miles out from home to shepherd us back in, just in case the cheap-ass shit donut doesn't get us there. Call Pat's housemate to come get her at the same place, since I'm not driving any further than I have to on this donut.
Drive the 50 miles home at no greater speed than 45 mph. Get Pat to her ride; drive home; get the car to the tire place. Get home. Deep breath.
And now cry. For all of it...for the scary, for the worry, for the stress, for the fucking flat tire that we didn't need, for the uncertainty of Gem's injury and prognosis, for the uncertainty of being able to afford the treatment. For all of it.
Go to bed at 1:45 a.m.
Can't sleep.
Blog at 2:00 a.m.
Feel a little clearer, if not better, at 2:38
More when we know more...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
April 19, 2009 Fence Fixing
This is one boring post, not really intended for public interest, just to keep a record someplace of the piecemeal way we're getting fence fixed this spring...
- Today we replaced the three back lines on pasture #2.
- Shed pasture walked, checked. Reasonably good shape.
- Shed pasture disconnected from main feed; solar fencer set up-- monitor; seems to be working strangely-- loose connection? Bad battery?
To do:
- Pasture #3 needs to be replaced at the back end, both lines.
- Pasture #3 needs to be replaced on the meadow side, top line.
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