Poop Soup

Where did our blue skies go?

The rains have been relentless. Add that to the melting snow from this past weekend and WA state is a mess. Up here, it's just annoying. Down south, they're requesting federal funds to help with rebuilding roads. I-5 had nearly 10 feet of water over it and is closed momentarily. If you want to drive from Seattle to Portland, it'll take you 7 hours as you'll need to head east through Ellensburg; meaning a trip over the pass before heading south, then a trip back over another pass in Oregon. It's just insane.

Here at home, the formerly frozen ground gave way to a few inches of snow, which turned into a sloppy mess once the rains began to beat down. The gravel in the paddocks seems to be holding up well, although the manure has become liquified and impossible to clean up. And while no one is walking around in pastern deep mud, it's still wet. With Quiet Storm gone, the paddock that Firecracker was in has doubled in size and she has access to both stalls. Still, her feet can't help but come into contact with moisture as the water just can't seem to drain away fast enough to keep up with the rainfall. Another load of gravel, especially in the stalls, would do wonders.

Since the bad weather began I've not spent much time out with the horses. Cheryle came and trimmed Quiet Storm and Jet on Friday, and with Firecracker aborting her foal on Sunday, I decided to just leave things be for a bit. Firecracker's training has consisted of me waiting for her to come up and get a mouthful of alfalfa pellets before I left the paddock. Unlike Sunny, who snatched a mouthful and ran between bites, Firecracker stands there and munches away. When I opened the window to put hay into her stall yesterday, she walked right in and pushed her nose up to my face, obviously feeling very comfortable. After a week off, and with that bit of relaxation, I decided I'd best jump back into training mode.

Firecracker struggles with the whole join up process. She knows to turn and face me, but she doesn't want to come into my space. I can walk left or right and she'll pivot to keep her attention where it belongs, but if I walk away she also turns away. Yesterday I managed to get her to take a few steps towards me. I feel limited by space, as I can't walk more than five feet before coming to a fence. Firecracker managed to keep fairly close a couple of times, but when I stopped her ears went flat back and she snaked her head out at me just like a snitty, bossy mare would push around another horse. I have to admit I felt very vulnerable at that moment! That attitude just won't do, but at the same time I need to encourage her into my space so I don't want to get after her in an aggressive way. Raising the hand caused her to take a step back before we started all over again.

After ten minutes of working like that, I pulled put my lariat and started tossing it over her back again. Jumpy the first time or two that I swung my arm, she settled right down and eventually allowed me close enough to rub the loop on her shoulder. When that happened, I told her she was a good girl and walked away. Total training time? Fifteen minutes, followed by dinner and me standing and holding her alfalfa pellets. I think food is going to be a big motivator when it comes to me being able to touch and handle her.

If Looks Could Kill...

...I'd be dead. Firecracker wasn't happy with me in her space. I'd been there too long, asked for too much. Greed. That's what it was. Things had been going smoothly and I wanted more than she was able to give.

This morning Stephanie and her husband showed up for Quiet Storm. She was so excited about taking home her new horse. Darling and I fought back the tears and were brave little soldiers. Loaded and on the road, we were in the house when Darling came and sat on my lap to cry. "I didn't want to sell her." And yet, less than a month ago she'd wanted nothing more than to give up her little filly for the new horse.

But Quiet Storm will be okay. Stephanie emailed three times from her cell phone to proclaim her love for this horse. And it will only get worse...that love sick feeling. They'll make a good team.Quiet Storm wasn't the only upset that faced us today. Firecracker lost her foal. Much farther along than I thought, I could make out the tiny body inside the crimson placenta laying out in the snow this morning. The head, the ears, eyes and even nostrils were prominent enough to show through. Legs; long and curled under it's belly, with the knees and hooves, and even it's hip could be made out. I'm left wondering what caused her to abort. She'd been coughing a bit when she first came, her nose a mucusey mess. Could it be rhinonuemenitis, a disease that causes late term abortion in mares? Or had she felt too stressed with me messing with her these past two weeks?

I'll likely never know. Thankfully, we hadn't grown attached to the unborn foal, so no grieving from anyone involved, least of all Firecracker. Her main concern today was how quickly I was going to produce her hay for breakfast and dinner. She didn't bat an eye when I hauled her aborted foal out in the wheelbarrow, never turned to wonder what I was doing. Far enough along to be more foal than fetus, not far enough along to be her baby. With the loss of the foal, I trust God must have something else in mind.

Got (more) Snow?

Snowy Ear (Quiet Storm's)

Firecracker has icicles hanging on her forelock!

It's snowing. Again. More. I don't like.

This morning I was supposed to haul Quiet Storm up to the vet clinic for her health certificate. I don't know what time the snow began falling, but I do know there was enough on the ground when I woke up at 5 to think twice about hauling anywhere. The temps are low, 29 F, so the flakes are small and not accumulating much. But it's not stopped all day. The vet, bless his heart, came here.

I've struggled to overcome these feelings of loss over Quiet Storm. I regret letting Darling make this decision. I'm the one who put it into her head, and although I tried to talk her out of adopting last month, it wasn't because I didn't want her to sell, but rather I wanted her to sell before getting a new horse. We're both grieving right now, feeling a bit as though we're betraying our old friend. I wonder what goes through the minds of horses who are bought and sold? Do they feel confused, unloved, forgotten? The one blessing is that Stephanie will spend every spare minute with Storm when she gets there, and I know that little mustang will thrive on it.

So, depending on the weather, tomorrow is the day we'll say goodbye to our dear little friend. I keep telling myself, "One less mouth to feed, one less paddock to clean, and one less set of hooves to trim..." And at some point next summer, Firecracker will have foaled, giving Darling and I one more project to look forward to.