It's an eternal, no doubt unresolvable debate: Cats -- indoors only or allowed to roam? Mine never go out, for several reasons. One winter night, not too long ago, I was forcibly reminded of one of them.
I was at the farm, having given the horses their late feeding, and was standing by the paddock gate, listening to the faint far night cries of coyotes, when suddenly, seemingly much closer (the nearest hayfield? locating sounds is chancy at night), there was a burst of excited coyote yapping, two terrible shrieks of a cat -- then silence.
I yelled something after the first shriek, something really useful, like maybe "Hey!" which I daresay wasn't even heard by the predators, then walked out past the little pond and around the knoll in the moonlight, looking for -- what? The mangled remains of one of the barn cats, I suppose. Found nothing. All three of the barn cats were there the next day, and there are feral cats eking out an existence in the farm's fields. A walk in the next day's light around the knoll revealed no trace of whatever had happened the night before.
I still feel sad and a little sick whenever I think of it, and I think of it most nights when I do late feeding.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
Roll out the barrel
Will be what I'll do tomorrow when I turn Ben out.
The weather was horrid today (as those of you who live near me are all too well aware), warmer than usual but lashed by high winds and driving rain starting around midday. After a few hours of huddling in the run-in, Ben, Commander, Counterpoint and Cholla were all glad in late afternoon to go into the barn and their warm dry hay-stocked stalls for the night. I'd put rain sheets on both Ben and Commander in the morning, in anticipation of the crappy weather, and when they came in I left the sheets on so they could dry on the backs of their four-legged clothes racks.
Tonight I whipped off Ben's rain sheet and thought "Hmmmmmmmmmm........ looking a bit rotund, are we?" Then instead of putting him back in the blue winter blanket he's been wearing for the bitter-cold weather, I grabbed his lighter-weight plaid blanket from the tack room, flung it over the mighty bay back, and began to do up the straps.
I had to let out the belly cross-straps and the leg straps. The boy's tubbed out. I'm sure there are ribs in there somewhere, but darned if I could find them when I ran my hands over his sides.
Sigh............ No more evening grain, just the morning's with the supplements, and I'll be cutting back even that small amount. It was only about three cups' worth at each meal, but down it goes to two, maybe one and a half. For both of the bay boys, since Commander has also gained weight since I got him. He's not a lardass like his big buddy, but it's best not to let him get any plumper.
Oddly enough, neither seemed to notice that they got only hay at tonight's late feeding, and not the usual grain ("Candy! Horsey crack cocaine!") in their bucket. One can only hope they continue to be bought off so easily.
The weather was horrid today (as those of you who live near me are all too well aware), warmer than usual but lashed by high winds and driving rain starting around midday. After a few hours of huddling in the run-in, Ben, Commander, Counterpoint and Cholla were all glad in late afternoon to go into the barn and their warm dry hay-stocked stalls for the night. I'd put rain sheets on both Ben and Commander in the morning, in anticipation of the crappy weather, and when they came in I left the sheets on so they could dry on the backs of their four-legged clothes racks.
Tonight I whipped off Ben's rain sheet and thought "Hmmmmmmmmmm........ looking a bit rotund, are we?" Then instead of putting him back in the blue winter blanket he's been wearing for the bitter-cold weather, I grabbed his lighter-weight plaid blanket from the tack room, flung it over the mighty bay back, and began to do up the straps.
I had to let out the belly cross-straps and the leg straps. The boy's tubbed out. I'm sure there are ribs in there somewhere, but darned if I could find them when I ran my hands over his sides.
Sigh............ No more evening grain, just the morning's with the supplements, and I'll be cutting back even that small amount. It was only about three cups' worth at each meal, but down it goes to two, maybe one and a half. For both of the bay boys, since Commander has also gained weight since I got him. He's not a lardass like his big buddy, but it's best not to let him get any plumper.
Oddly enough, neither seemed to notice that they got only hay at tonight's late feeding, and not the usual grain ("Candy! Horsey crack cocaine!") in their bucket. One can only hope they continue to be bought off so easily.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Pictures of an Introduction
November 5 was the day Commander came to live with Ben at Alprilla Farm. A 19-year-old Morgan gelding, he was a "free to good home" adoption.
We introduced them with halters and lead ropes on at first, Rick -- Commander's then-owner -- holding Commander and me holding Ben. Commander did the squeal-strike a couple of times, which didn't seem to faze Ben at all; but mostly both horses were much more interested in the hay piles scattered liberally around the paddock. So after a bit we took their halters off and left them to their own devices.
Left to their own devices, they ate hay. Commander puttered about a bit, sampled what grass there was, and decided the hay was better. Ben ate hay. They migrated from pile to pile, and when one happened to pass near the other, there was mutual surveying before both went back to the important business of eating hay.
They didn't seem tense, just curious. Both boys are mid to late teens and both have been around the block a few times.
Sometimes they got quite close, and seemed quite relaxed about the whole thing. Curious, but relaxed.
They actually did eat from the same hay pile once or twice, though mostly they stuck to separate tables.
Rick and his girlfriend Carol stayed for quite a while, making sure all would be well and enjoying the sight of their good old buddy settling into his new life. Finally, Rick said goodbye.
When the truck and trailer pulled out to the road and drove away, Commander galloped to the corner of the paddock nearest to the road and neighed, then watched till the rig was out of sight.
Then he returned to eating hay.
So how well did the two boys get along as the day progressed? Observe Ben thoughtfully, experimentally come up behind Commander and thoughtfully, experimentally chomp down on Commander's tailhead:
Can you believe it? Ben, what are you thinking?!? Here, let's zoom in for a closeup of this madness:
So what happened?!?
Commander flicked his ears back as I yelled at Ben.
Then..................................
Commander, never letting go of his mouthful of hay, walked away.
Meanwhile, the white boys were watching this with undisguised fascination. Whenever Commander went near the fence Counterpoint (a/k/a Herd King) especially was eager to sniff noses, never forgetting to be as studly as possible. Cholla hung back a bit, as befits his lower social status, but wanted to get acquainted too.
Have you noticed that every picture of Commander so far, he's got hay hanging out of his mouth?
"Wonder what they're saying about me?"
In fact, the toughest part for Commander of this whole introduction thing turned out to be trying to get a drink of water -- Counterpoint seized the opportunity to get some nose-to-nose contact, kept blocking poor Commander's access to the water, till finally I climbed into the white boys' side and distracted Counterpoint long enough for the new guy to get his drink.
Eventually Ben and Commander went into the run-in.
We'd wondered whether there'd be competition, dog-in-the-mangering, conflict.
Nope. Other than Commander moving away if Ben moved toward him, they hung out and ate peaceably.
So life goes on at Alprilla Farm, with one happily settled in newcomer, who knows the value of a good mouthful of hay.
We introduced them with halters and lead ropes on at first, Rick -- Commander's then-owner -- holding Commander and me holding Ben. Commander did the squeal-strike a couple of times, which didn't seem to faze Ben at all; but mostly both horses were much more interested in the hay piles scattered liberally around the paddock. So after a bit we took their halters off and left them to their own devices.
Left to their own devices, they ate hay. Commander puttered about a bit, sampled what grass there was, and decided the hay was better. Ben ate hay. They migrated from pile to pile, and when one happened to pass near the other, there was mutual surveying before both went back to the important business of eating hay.
They didn't seem tense, just curious. Both boys are mid to late teens and both have been around the block a few times.
Sometimes they got quite close, and seemed quite relaxed about the whole thing. Curious, but relaxed.
They actually did eat from the same hay pile once or twice, though mostly they stuck to separate tables.
Rick and his girlfriend Carol stayed for quite a while, making sure all would be well and enjoying the sight of their good old buddy settling into his new life. Finally, Rick said goodbye.
When the truck and trailer pulled out to the road and drove away, Commander galloped to the corner of the paddock nearest to the road and neighed, then watched till the rig was out of sight.
Then he returned to eating hay.
So how well did the two boys get along as the day progressed? Observe Ben thoughtfully, experimentally come up behind Commander and thoughtfully, experimentally chomp down on Commander's tailhead:
Can you believe it? Ben, what are you thinking?!? Here, let's zoom in for a closeup of this madness:
So what happened?!?
Commander flicked his ears back as I yelled at Ben.
Then..................................
Commander, never letting go of his mouthful of hay, walked away.
Meanwhile, the white boys were watching this with undisguised fascination. Whenever Commander went near the fence Counterpoint (a/k/a Herd King) especially was eager to sniff noses, never forgetting to be as studly as possible. Cholla hung back a bit, as befits his lower social status, but wanted to get acquainted too.
Have you noticed that every picture of Commander so far, he's got hay hanging out of his mouth?
"Wonder what they're saying about me?"
In fact, the toughest part for Commander of this whole introduction thing turned out to be trying to get a drink of water -- Counterpoint seized the opportunity to get some nose-to-nose contact, kept blocking poor Commander's access to the water, till finally I climbed into the white boys' side and distracted Counterpoint long enough for the new guy to get his drink.
Eventually Ben and Commander went into the run-in.
We'd wondered whether there'd be competition, dog-in-the-mangering, conflict.
Nope. Other than Commander moving away if Ben moved toward him, they hung out and ate peaceably.
So life goes on at Alprilla Farm, with one happily settled in newcomer, who knows the value of a good mouthful of hay.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
The joys of colonoscopy prep
It's changed somewhat in the eight years between my previous one and this evening's reaming out.
Eight years ago I had to choke down two little bottles of the single most nauseatingly vile stuff I have ever encountered. This time I've had to mix an entire bottle of a powdered laxative into 96 ounces of Gatorade (anything but red), which is far more
excuse me
palatable than the other stuff. Of course, I now associate Gatorade with colonoscopy prep, but fortunately it's not a drink I was a fan of before, so developing a distasteful association is no
excuse me
big deal. So here I am, quaffing my way through two 32-ounce jugs of the stuff, one eight-ounce glassful every 15 minutes, with the happy prospect of getting up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow morning in
excuse me
order to gulp my way, at the same 15-minute intervals, through the last jugful. Then I get to wait till almost noon for the deed itself to be done. Which is probably the least unpleasant part of the whole process, since they knock you out for it and you don't remember a thing. I recall from last time, I was chatting with the nurse as she got me positioned, then I was asking her "So when does it start?" and she laughed and
excuse me
said, "It's already done." So if you can get through the prep, the procedure itself is a breeze.
Of course, I am not allowed to have any solid food today, and for several days preceding Prep Day it's recommended one avoid anything but low-residue foods. While the instruction sheet doesn't say this, it's a damned good idea NOT to try to load up with sustenance the day before no-food day because you WILL have to clear all that out, and the more
excuse me
that's in your system, the more that has to be flushed from your piping. I've been on a low-residue diet for weeks now because of my gastric problems and have had to do liquid fast days now and then, so it wasn't all that difficult to simply dial my
excuse me
intake back a bit farther. Yesterday, in fact, was a ratcheting-down day of egg whites in broth, yogurt, and jello, all in small quantities, so today's colonic cleansing isn't too dreadful. Too bad I didn't
excuse me
know these things for my first colonoscopy! That prep was miserable for more than just the disgusting
excuse me
vile nasty stuff I had to drink -- and no, mixing it into apple juice, as one well-meaning friend suggested, didn't help one bit! So all in all, this isn't so bad.
At least it's better than
excuse me
a sharp stick in the eye.
Eight years ago I had to choke down two little bottles of the single most nauseatingly vile stuff I have ever encountered. This time I've had to mix an entire bottle of a powdered laxative into 96 ounces of Gatorade (anything but red), which is far more
excuse me
palatable than the other stuff. Of course, I now associate Gatorade with colonoscopy prep, but fortunately it's not a drink I was a fan of before, so developing a distasteful association is no
excuse me
big deal. So here I am, quaffing my way through two 32-ounce jugs of the stuff, one eight-ounce glassful every 15 minutes, with the happy prospect of getting up at 5:00 a.m. tomorrow morning in
excuse me
order to gulp my way, at the same 15-minute intervals, through the last jugful. Then I get to wait till almost noon for the deed itself to be done. Which is probably the least unpleasant part of the whole process, since they knock you out for it and you don't remember a thing. I recall from last time, I was chatting with the nurse as she got me positioned, then I was asking her "So when does it start?" and she laughed and
excuse me
said, "It's already done." So if you can get through the prep, the procedure itself is a breeze.
Of course, I am not allowed to have any solid food today, and for several days preceding Prep Day it's recommended one avoid anything but low-residue foods. While the instruction sheet doesn't say this, it's a damned good idea NOT to try to load up with sustenance the day before no-food day because you WILL have to clear all that out, and the more
excuse me
that's in your system, the more that has to be flushed from your piping. I've been on a low-residue diet for weeks now because of my gastric problems and have had to do liquid fast days now and then, so it wasn't all that difficult to simply dial my
excuse me
intake back a bit farther. Yesterday, in fact, was a ratcheting-down day of egg whites in broth, yogurt, and jello, all in small quantities, so today's colonic cleansing isn't too dreadful. Too bad I didn't
excuse me
know these things for my first colonoscopy! That prep was miserable for more than just the disgusting
excuse me
vile nasty stuff I had to drink -- and no, mixing it into apple juice, as one well-meaning friend suggested, didn't help one bit! So all in all, this isn't so bad.
At least it's better than
excuse me
a sharp stick in the eye.
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