With Sandy on Hold...

...Jet has found herself under saddle a bit more frequently than she'd like.

This past week the sun has been out and it's been too pretty to just hang out at the round pen, so I've been saddling Jet up and heading up the trail. This was working well until I got it in my mind to travel to Ogallala one day.

Really, I had no clue where Ogallala might be until I mentioned it to others who were quite taken aback that I could ask such a thing. Seems I missed out on a lot by not watching Lonesome Dove...Be that as it may, the likelihood of actually making it 1450 miles to Nebraska (which, for those of you who are as clueless as me, is where Ogallala is...) was pretty slim. Jet wasn't really certain she wanted to go to Ogallala. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she trudged along fairly well for the most part. Through big trees, tall ferns and even over a scary wood bridge.

But eventually she was done. And I mean done! We started up the face of the mountain (still in the trees) and as it became narrower, she became grouchier and touchier than she'd ever been. Upon finding a place with room to head back for home, she gladly threw her body around and raced down the hill at a break-neck trot. Had me worried, she did, as there was little reasoning with her once those nerves took over. I must admit I lost a bit of horsemanship with her that day and when we got to the bottom in one piece I decided to head her straight back up that hill, at least the lower level. She, however, had other ideas and a small battle ensued where she reared and I hung on, then turned her back again and encountered yet another protest. But she met with my heels and took off briskly up the lower portion of the hill, and this time when we turned around it was to walk down.

She was thankful for the hitching post we found down below as it offered her an opportunity to stand and catch her breath as I took her picture and answered my cell phone to chat with someone who's interested in adopting a horse. I must admit I nearly sold them Miss Alpo at that moment, but instead talked about Joe. When I climbed back on Jet, she was still edgy and nervous about our long ride in unfamiliar territory, which made for an interesting ride home.

The following day I opted to head up the old familiar trail, but again she decided to challenge me. This time there was nothing nervous in it, just a three year old tantrum at the top of a steep hill, which I so did not need. More loss of horsemanship skills as I behaved like I've not behaved with a horse since I was 12. I dismounted this time as we weren't in a location which offered me much choice; I gave her a good smack with the end of the reins and stomped up the rest of the hill of foot, fuming with each thud of the boots, and when I climbed back on board she was forced to put it into high gear straight away.

By the time we made it back down to the foot of the hill she and I were back on good terms. However, I noticed the next morning that she had some galling from the cinch which undoubtedly contributed to her cranky behavior the past two rides.

So now I've got two horses on bed rest. Sandy's eye is healing up, but his pupil is still quite dilated which makes it impossible to head out on these sunny days. I've had him out on a couple of short (very short) evening jaunts of five or ten minutes just so he can start tuning up again for when he's ready. Jet will have to wait until I can afford a sheepskin cinch, as both the string cinch and felt have irritated her sensitive skin.

Hey, Dude...wanna go for a ride?

Mustang Needs A Home

Meet Joe.

Joe is a two year old light bay/rabicano gelding from Jackie's Butte in southeastern Oregon. He's roughly 15 hands, very sweet and wanting to be your buddy. He's pictured here being turned out into the bigger field for the first time with another horse, hence the drag line. He was completely willing to be caught, however, which is what I'd anticipated. He got along quite well with Dude, and he was nice to the sheep.

Joe was very willing to let us touch his face almost from day one. Haltering was a fairly simple feat. He's not too sure about having his feet handled, but he's becoming accustomed to me sliding my hand down those front legs and lifting them up. I can reach under his belly and rub where a cinch will someday be.

I'm in awe of Joe's movement. It's flawless...light, airy and floating. I put a pole in the round pen with him and had him trot over it a few times. Oh, my word! He just rounded up and I swear his toes barely touched the ground as he glided over it. He's one fancy moving little horse. If I had even half a clue about dressage or hunter training I'd be figuring out a way to keep this boy and train him, then sell him for a small fortune. Look at that cute face! With that soft eye, pretty profile and super movement, he's sure to go far.

But for some reason, no one wants to come and look at Joe. He'd had an adopter; a gentleman from the Seattle area who'd read about the euthanasia issue and wanted to save a mustang. He wanted a trail horse, and although I knew Joe's natural talent would be overlooked, I was happy to have found him a good home within days of him coming here. Joe stayed at home while I hauled the other two up to the fair for adoption. When I came home I contacted the adopter only to find he'd decided board was too expensive in Seattle.

So Joe didn't go anywhere. I've advertised him on Craigslist in two different regions. I've got his photo up at feed stores. I tell everyone I know what a wonderful horse I've got here...and no one comes to look.

Poor Joe.

If Joe doesn't find a home here soon, he'll end up back at the corrals. Any training, lost. All that potential, overlooked. It's a sad, sorry shame and a disappointing reflection on the horse industry today when a young, talented guy like Joe may end up in a long term holding facility on the waiting list for euthanasia while people are still breeding backyard horses with no talent or purpose. A very sad thing indeed...

Tears and Dodged Bullets

I was invited on a trail ride set for Monday morning. It was Darling's last day off before school, so she decided she wanted to come along as well. I fed early, then went out to load up. Jet climbed right in, and I went to fetch Sandy only to find him with a closed left eye and a trail of tears running down his face.

Ride canceled.

Being labor day, the local feed stores opted to stay closed, and with me being unable to find my terramycin I began calling friends with livestock to see if I could locate any of the antibiotic ointment for his eye. Never did, but one neighbor had some drops and I tried that in hopes that it would flush whatever was bothering him. It didn't. By late afternoon there were goobers and I could see that a bit of cloudiness was forming. Great...

Tuesday morning I called the vet and got an appointment for Sandy to see the good Dr. Plotts. We were 50 feet from the clinic door when the doc caught a good look and exclaimed what a nasty looking eye that was. He thought this may have been building up for some time, and was shocked to learn it was just over 24 hours since discovered. The eye was weepy, goobery, and now nearly completely covered in cloudiness.

There were four different vets taking turns looking into Sandy's eye as he stood drugged with his head on a stand and his lower lip hanging and catching drool in a pool before it overflowed onto the ground like a slobbering fountain. Poor boy. The consensus was that he'd punctured it somehow, and lucky for both of us that I'd come in rather than waiting another day as it was pretty bad. Two ointments were perscribed and I was to give him 37 little pills twice a day for five days. And banamine, too, for the pain. Oh, joy. He's so happy with me now that he's come to.

Another follow up appointment was set for Thursday. In the meantime, medicate, medicate, medicate and pray for the best. So far, he's doing well. His eye isn't watering as much, he's keeping it open a lot more, and he's eating and drinking and pooping and peeing...all the good stuff. There is a chance he could lose his sight, but currently he seems to be seeing okay.

And while I was dealing with this, the little community of Alger and south into Mt Vernon was dealing with it's own issues as someone went on a shooting spree, killing 6 people (including a deputy) and wounding two more (including a state trooper.) One of the man's stops was the Alger Shell station where he killed a man just seconds before our friend Curt showed up for his daily visit (he stops for lunch with friends and to play lotto.) When I first learned of what had happened this afternoon, there were no names of victims being released. Knowing Curt spends a lot of time there really left me weak kneed. I'm thankful he's okay, but am so sorry for the families involved. I hope your prayers are with them, as are mine.