August 2010

August 28, 2010: Busy, Busy, Busy

I will launch straight into an account of the Showing Week we always have in August. First of all was the gymkhana at Tannie Marie's place. I couldn't take my groaningly pregnant mares or Achilles, so I borrowed a small fluffy grey Nooitgedacht named Maskas. He was all right, very very fast and quick to respond to my legs, and the gymkhana round just whizzed by; we won the walk-and-gallop race and came second in the ball-and-bucket race mainly because Maskas has trouble with stopping. In the jumping I think we came second again - there wasn't really a placing - to Ina on Dirk once more. Maskas was pretty naughty and refused a lot but he's a little pony and the jumps were pretty high. It was a lot of fun and I like Maskas.

On Monday Kevin towed me off to my borrowed show mare, Heidi, again to give her a bath; she'd been clipped - because we found out that Missy couldn't go to the show a bit late, so there was no time to blanket and groom Heidi, she already had a fuzzy winter coat - and her hooves had been rasped. She was fine with the bathing, except she didn't like her face being washed and had a tantrum. Kevin sprayed, I held, and the result was me getting a faceful of water and the giggles. Heidi and I dried off in the sunshine and eventually we trundled off to Pretoria, Heidi smart with a tail bandages, bandages round her legs and a blanket. I went home leaving Kevin to take Heidi up (mean old me), though when we take my horses I'll insist on going with.

The show was the next day and I was very nervous. There were nine mares in our class - purebred Nooitgedacht mares four years and older - and some of them were really quality horses. Heidi just looked innocent, demure and well-behaved under her long chestnut forelock. The showgrounds were amazing. The stables were amazing. Most of all, the horses were amazing. I remember two as seeming outstanding, to me anyway - a tiny bay foal with a blaze who went to sleep in the lineup with his head on his handler's shoulder, and a beautiful white stallion with a long, floating mane and a commanding presence. This was Pretman Tornado.

Heidi was a bit hyperactive but after she walked around a bit she settled. We went into the ring in third place behind two frisky greys. I misunderstood the ring steward on several occasions mainly because he was very scary for no reason other than that he was a ring steward: they scare the wits out of me. Heidi was impeccably behaved. She trotted slowly the first time but later on went like a pro. She didn't spook or make a scene, only dodged a kick from a grey mare who was suffering from show nerves. Kevin growled from the sidelines, "Please don't pass out, you don't get extra marks for that, you know." Rain sounded like a cheerleader, hopping up and down beside the ring and cheering Heidi on: "Go Firny! Go Heidi! Go Firny! Go Heidi!" Dad just stood still, beamed, took pictures, puffed out his chest and looked every inch the proud father. Mom couldn't come but she swooned over the photos afterwards. Imagine my delight when we came second in our class and qualified for the championship!

Heidi did brilliant. The judge really liked her. The championship was very short; the judge was sure. The announcer said, "Reserve Senior Champion... Arop Heidi."

I grinned at the judge. I stroked Heidi. She flounced her blue rosette. The only bad things about the show were a) it was too short b) when Heidi came out of the ring she went lame. She seemed to have pulled a muscle slightly, perhaps when she shied in the lineup. Don't worry, she's better now, so even that was resolved quickly.

Last of the hectic week was the Pretoria Jersey Youth Show, which was sadly an anticlimax due to the fact that wash, prep and exam were all cancelled and even showmanship was very short. We didn't want to bring Bronwen for just ten minutes' walk around, so Rain and I borrowed heifers from River Dance Dairy. It was a lot of fun, though Rain's heifer (we didn't know their names, but Rain dubbed her Coppelia) was a bit fiery. Mine was very good, I nicknamed her Dusty and she knew the drill. Rain was placed first in the Juniors and I came second in Seniors (it was the first time I'd ever shown in Senior) and we were both delighted. Rain did extremely well for her second show ever.

Now we relax for a few brief minutes before going to chase three lots of Frieslands through the crush (plus tomorrow we're getting twenty new Friesland calves to raise, Group Eleven). The shows might be over but there is still a LOT to do. There's never a dull moment here on Hydeaway Farm. We've had another three new arrivals, Anemay's daughter Amazing Grace (who had to be pulled out; Anemay got milk fever five times in five days, but with the help of a drip we pulled her through. I put in the drip, I'm the only one that can, hee hee), Ocean's daughter Outstanding (well, her aunt is Out In Front...) and Indigo had a bullcalf two hours ago; he hasn't got a name yet. Kiske's was stillborn, sadly, but her last calf was a brilliant heifer.

I am starting to worry incessantly because the mares are approaching their due dates. Miss A is due on the 21st of September and Skye on the first of October. Missy is now exactly three weeks from foaling and is more pear-shaped than ever; her udder is also starting to swell quite alarmingly. Skye's belly is humungous, but other than that she's not showing signs of impending birth. They're both in good health, Miss A a bit fat but not overweight, glossy coats, bright eyes, and excellent appetites. Skye is eating a slightly frightening amount of good teff hay; Achilles stands gawking at her most of the time while she eats and eats. She consumes around 800g of pellets per day. I wondered if it was a bit low, but she looks so good; it's only 13% protein but the hay is very high in protein. Miss A gets about 500g because she tends to get fat very easily very quickly. Soon we're going to take Skye away from poor old Achilles because we don't want him trampling the foals or covering Skye when she comes on heat again. The poor boy has only two choices: a) Live alone with Benjamin the donkey for company or b) Get the Big G. You guessed it. We might geld him. I'm not sure what he would prefer but then again I'm not a stallion.

Okay, pictures follow. Enjoy.

Maskas in the gymkhana round

Waiting to go in

Arop Heidi

Heidi and I in the ring

Being inspected

Senior Champion (grey) and Reserve Champion (Heidi)

Now I must go zooming off to whatever happens next. Country life, eh?

August 20, 2010: !

So many things are spinning around and around my head that the clearest thought in there is simply !. Such a lot has happened. Firstly as I write I'm trying to keep Rain's new pet, a white rabbit kit named Muffin, off my keyboard and out of trouble. Secondly... wait for it... I JUST BACKED SIOBHAN.

Okay, so she is a bit young - 23 months and the youngest is 24. But I'm pretty tiny and she's well developed for a two-year-old and all we did was plod around for a few minutes. I didn't plan, much less expect, this when I decided that since the mares are on maternity leave I might as well bring Siobhanny for my lesson with Kevin. She was puttering on beautifully, no major problems except for her one phobia of the crush, which isn't so serious as she's not afraid of narrow spaces - just the crush since we injected her there. I just wanted Kevin's opinion on where to go next: she had accepted the saddle (apart from a few little kicks at the stirrups), she lunges well, and her leading manners are almost impeccable. She doesn't bite, kick, chop, or rear anymore. So: what next?

First we just lunged her a bit and got rid of the stirrup problem. Then Kevin attached two feed sacks to her saddle, one on either side, because she had a problem with things flapping around next to her. She intensely disliked the sacks, but after I'd lunged her around for a while she relaxed and accepted that they weren't going to kill her. We put Achilles's bridle on her; it was way too big and the bit was very loose in her jaws, but it gave her the opportunity to mouth it a bit and get used to it. She reacted to the bit and bridle with complete indifference.

"Okay," I said, "what's the next step?"

"Usually the next step is getting on," said Kevin.

"Oh. Isn't she a bit young?" I asked, semi hopefully.

"Sort of."

I led Siobhan around a bit, getting her used to the bit some more.

"Hey, Firn, how much do you weigh?"

Oh well, this is Kevin after all, master of not explaining. "About fifty kilos. Why?"

"I think you should put your hat on."

My heart made a funny little jump. "I was thinking you'd think that."

I was pretty scared and extremely excited. Kevin hung on to Siobhanny's head and I stuck my foot in the stirrup and draped myself over her saddle like a blanket. She stood perfectly still, unfazed. "Good girl," I whispered, frozen to the saddle. I got off, back on, back off, back on, and finally straightened up, still with both legs hanging down Siobhan's left side, but I was now taller than her head. She put back her ears, but did not move.

"Okay... now swing your leg over, nice and slow..."

I hardly breathed. My fingers were knotted into her thick torrent of black mane. I slowly swung my leg over her rump. She raised her head a fraction, but stood firm. I lowered my leg down to the right stirrup and slowly edged my toe into it. Gently, I sat down in the saddle, clutching her mane like a lifeline. Siobhan did not move. I breathed out and felt the familiar grin spreading across my face. I dared to take one hand off her mane and stroke her short neck. Kevin led her on a little, holding tightly to her halter, but she made no effort to buck and stepped on after him. She tensed for a while at my unfamiliar weight on her back, but relaxed quickly and loosened up, stepping out, carrying me. My heart sang. Here I was, sitting on the renegade, the mustang! Here I was doing what, a few months ago, I'd thought impossible. I had hoped and prayed that she wouldn't break my neck when I backed her when she was three, and here I was, sitting on her at age two, and she was being perfect. She turned and walked faster and stopped and went on after Kevin and made no complaint but for the way she set her ears back, and even then she didn't pin them down. She felt so petite I thought my toes might reach the ground, and I dithered, wondering if it was a mistake to back her so young, but she showed no sign at all of discomfort or even of effort and anyway, it's not like we were asking her to gallop and jump all over the place. Later on Kevin let her go and I took up the rein attached to her headcollar and rode her slowly around the ring, guiding her as gently as I could with the reins and trying not to use my legs at all apart from some guiding squeezes. She was brilliant. I got off and repeated the process on her other side, which she didn't like so much, but soon got over it and relaxed. Kevin took off the saddle and I got on bareback and she was fine. It was the most amazing feeling, riding this horse that seemed like one long string of mistakes, and realising that no horse is beyond helping. When I got off at last I was positively beaming. I hugged her neck and said thank you and that I couldn't believe it. It was just amazing.

I am totally exhilarated. She was so ill-mannered and so rebellious and all it took was a bit of trust, kindness and leadership and she came right. This is the magic of the ever-forgiving horse that even the sniggering rebels have in them. I am honoured and priviledged to have the pleasure of working with these noble creatures. The backing of Siobhan is one more step forward on a long journey chasing a dream, a journey started and inspired and sustained by one brave golden mare. I don't know what is at the end, just that I hope we never get there - that  there'll always be a star to chase on the horizon. Yet I do hope, deeply, that one day I too will be worthy of the honour of the title of Horse Whisperer.

I rode Achilles around for half an hour or so too; he was rather awful, bucked at every canter and ran away with me twice. His neck is extremely strong and if he wants to he just canters off and I can't stop him without turning him around, and even that is difficult - and scary when he starts twisting his head and neck and stumbling. Kevin got on him and taught him some manners and when I rode again he tried to be naughty with me, but once I'd seen that he could be obedient and gentle I wanted to make him do that for me and swatted him with the reins. Afterwards he decided to listen.

Kevin inspected the pregnant mares and said that Miss A definitely looks pregnant; Skye too, but we can all see that, she has a humungous tummy. Miss A, with her narrow chest and short neck and enormous belly is oddly pear-shaped (no pun intended). Skye is getting a bit moody, she's taken to kicking Achilles from time to time, just to let the hormones out a bit. He needs to be put in line anyway. Skye is in the most brilliant condition, not overweight but well-rounded, glossy and bright-eyed with health. She looks simply amazing. They're all shedding like mad which is unsurprising - for I saw the sign of the spring a few days ago.

Last year it was Skye's turn to see the heralds of spring with me, so this time it was Miss A's. We had ridden up on the western reach of the Shuddering Woods and were plodding up the road, Missy spooking at every stick and stone. It was then that I heard them calling, rounded the corner and saw, perched in the branches of the second-to-biggest tree in the Woods (Fibra), the Egyptian geese. They nest every year on our dam and every year I know it really is spring when they come home. It may only be August but outside it is spring. The geese always know. It is spring, and the geese always know.

Elsewhere there are other signs too: everyone is losing winter coats, the sky is deeper, and this morning there was a tangy liveliness on the air that spoke of spring. Under the dead tan grass, new blades are rising; vivid green and trembling with life. This morning I saw a drove of birds, too far away to see what sort, swooping and diving on the wind in the massive flocks they come home in. Masked weavers and house sparrows are plucking grass for nests. The peach tree's blossoms are open and alive like mother's kisses and, as I ride in the Woods, though the morning glories are dead and the bluegum leaves hang limp, I can feel in the air that deep in the heart of the trees something has awoken from a long season's sleep.

Though cows don't calve seasonally, we have just had a big flood of calves. Leri, my old show heifer, calved a stunning young heifer named Lady Louisa partly after the horse in my story A Promise for the Horses and partly because her aunts are Lady Lynette and Lady Lizanne. Skye and I watched young Bianca have a bullcalf whom I promptly named Beowulf. Rascal had a bull named Rondekop (Round Head, which he has), and our two-hundredth Jersey on the farm was sadly a bull and named Being Ten More Than One Hundred And Ninety (the hundredth calf was Being Ten More Than Ninety). Then Jane calved; hers was a heifer and because she was the 201st calf she was named Justoo Layt (her sister was Justyn Thyme). While we were away, three calves were born in less than six hours: Brilliant had a bull named Brakenjan, Mashaya a bull named Marakas, and Being Ten More Than Ninety herself a heifer named Bailey.

Our latest arrival is Hydeaway Mis Jy My (Do You Miss Me, Dad's favourite phrase; he uses it as most people use "um" or "as I was saying"). Miracle had her totally unexpectedly and a worker phoned to say "Miesies there's a little calf in the dry cows' camp," and when we looked, there was a tiny brown-and-white heifer sitting in the hay and looking peeved.

"Okay, own up, whose is it?" I demanded as her mother was nowhere near, but then Miracle turned up and it was plain that she was the proud mum. Mis Jy My is now snoozing away in her new pen with Lady Louisa and awaiting her supper.

Writing-wise Sparrowhawk has grown by another few thousand words; A Promise for the Horses is gaining momentum again and Moonrise at Midnight has been sadly neglected. I've written for two more writing competitions: one is an e-book publishing company's writing competition, I wrote a short story entitled Before the Legend and involving King Arthur as a boy and of course Modena the unicorn. The other is a competition from a sort of Christian horsy site called Equest for Truth and the subject was "The Fascinating Features of the Horse", so I wrote an essay called A Beauty of Horses simply describing the horse and what makes him so beautiful and important to mankind. It became so elaborate that I was nearly embarrassed and thought: "Well, any grown up would just laugh and say but it's just a horse" and then got so fired up that I rapped out: God never meant anything to be "just a". Not just a stone, just a tree, just a man - just a horse.

So, those two just have to be sent off to their competitions, then there's the Storiewerf competition around October and the MML judging in January; fingers crossed that Dannica, Conlan, Barak and Luna will do their thing and that the judges will fall in love with them as much as I did. The Morning Star Mare was very enjoyable to write and so hopefully will be enjoyable to read.

Okay, this blog is a novel already, I'll end it with a couple of the promised pictures of Siobhan being lunged with her saddle on for the first time.

With the blanket on...

Saddled up

Stirrups off 

August 3, 2010: Foal Fever and My Poor Pregnant Fairies

Ugh. What a week. Beg pardon for abandoning my blog. It has been a rather strange time. Scarcely had I written those words when the butler turned up: "Fen, die klein perd hy's by die ander..." for all the English speakers, "the little horse is running with the others" and when I dashed out, die klein perd was not alone; all the foursome were together. After a few hair-raising moments during which we nearly had yet ANOTHER unintentional pregnancy (thankfully Siobhan was being cantankerous and kicked the daylights out of Achilles) I managed to get hold of Missy and Siobhanny and drag them off to their own paddock two fences apart from Skye and Achilles's.

Where do I begin? My poor pregnant fairies haven't been having an excellent time. First of all we had a small fright with Miss A; I jumped her last Monday and she took off waaay to early and got tangled up in the jump, luckily my jump is extremely flimsy and dismantled itself completely and I stayed on top so no serious accident, I trotted her round in a circle and she seemed okay so we went on jumping. But when I rode her on Tuesday and we began to trot, I noticed something was really wrong and jumped off instantly. We discovered a wire in her right forefoot, embedded in the sole of the hoof quite near the wall, what puzzled me was that her left fore fetlock looked swollen; however, I am hugely paranoid and forever seeing swellings where there aren't any so I ignored it because Kevin was coming the following day and would have a look. We extracted the wire, sprayed penicillin into the wound and gave her 20cc penicillin intramuscularly to guard against infection.

Next morning Kevin turned up, looked down at the possibly swollen foot and said, "I see what you mean by swollen."

It turned out that when we hit the jump she must have banged her fetlock and bruised it, causing it to swell up. For the next three days I washed it off with cold water and rubbed a herbal cooling gel into it and by Friday she was sound. I was just beginning to feel relieved about Missy when Skye gave me a real heart attack. Saturday I rode her and she was just fine, seemed a bit slow to the aids perhaps, but pregnant mares have moods sometimes and she was fine in every other way. The next day she was walking with tiny shuffling steps, looking all hunched up and very sorry for herself. Still eating and drinking, bright-eyed and glossy, but her gait was terrible and she kept on stumbling. I screamed for Mom, who ambled out and said yes, she looks lame or something. Offered her an apple; she ate half and then stumbled off, giving me a far bigger heart attack. Skye never, ever, ever, ever refuses an apple. Actually, she had spied a worker trundling past with a wheelbarrow full of cow feed; a favourite game of the horses is to attempt to nip mouthfuls of cow feed out of the wheelbarrow. It does them no harm, keeps the workers fit and makes for some light amusement. She barrelled off after the worker, ate up a spilt drop of cow feed, and when I came dashing up and thrust the remains of the apple at her, she ate that too. Phew. I was still a nervous wreck and Skye was still shuffling like an old lady. We ran to the phone and begged the horse mutterer for help. In Mom's words, "Skye's walking very strange with her back legs and Firn's no help, she's in a bit of a state." Poor Kevin's Sunday afternoon was ruined, but he came out anyway (thank heaven) to look at Skye. I haltered her and walked her up and down, trotted a little, she looked like a pony with acute laminitis. Oh, crustacean, maybe she has laminitis. Maybe she has tetanus, does the stiff gait come before or after the locked jaw? Kevin looked puzzled and began to vigorously massage Skye's backside. She did not appreciate this and for the first time in her life tried to kick a human. It must have hurt a lot, because Skye never kicks. However after a few minutes of rubbing, I led her off and there was a marked improvement.

Kevin's verdict: "She's just stiff." He fired a pile of questions at me; had I ridden her hard yesterday, was she warmed up when we jumped, and so on. I'd only ridden her for about forty-five minutes and it was a leisurely plod to go and fetch the cows. Kevin shrugged and said that she might have fought with Achilles or run around a lot last night; she might even have slept in a bad position. Whatever the cause, she was just stiff, nothing serious. I felt a bit better. Kevin took her temperature and it was a healthy 37.5 degrees Celsius. I was still having a nervous breakdown but Skye just looked fed up with people rubbing her bum and poking thermometers in bad places. She got 16cc of anti-inflammatory Fenylbutazone intramuscularly and Kevin advised me to let her rest.

"And as for you," he added sternly, "please try to sleep tonight."

I did try. Fell asleep at about nine o' clock, woke up at midnight and worried until about one, woke up again at five o' clock. All in all, not a good night. However, Mom went out to feed Skye and Achy first thing, as usual, and Skye whinnied for her breakfast and was walking better. At about seven I went out to check on her; she was very pleased with the carrot I brought to her and she was walking almost normally. Big sigh of relief. I gave her a good massage with a rubber curry comb and though she's much better than yesterday, she's still stiff and sore through her shoulders, back, and rump. Kevin will look at her again on Tuesday and she must get 8cc of Fenyl again this afternoon.

Thank goodness that she's better and that Kevin was nice enough to come out at four o' clock on a Sunday afternoon to humour a really paranoid person. Hopefully she will be perfectly sound again soon. Phew.

Well, I don't have much longer to keep riding her anyway until she has to go on maternity leave in September. Yes, can you believe it, on August 1st she was nine months pregnant!! (Excuse the double exclamation marks). Relaxing now to the sounds of my hero Josh Groban and a very skilfully played cello in Un Giorno per Noi I can turn my thoughts to the imminent arrivals of our two new equine family members. I found a really brilliant website that shows you pictures and gives info on the different stages of equine fetal development. The best thing is that the pictures are drawings of the foal in the uterus and not photographs of aborted fetuses, which is so sad and pathetic that I detest looking at those. For all other expectant horse moms, go to http://www.oakleighminiatures.com/contents/Development%20of%20a%20foal%20and%20gestation.htm to keep track of what your future best friend is looking like right now.

It came home to me what a miracle the fetal growth of a foal is. Often we only think of the growth once the foal is born, and that is miraculous enough with the horse going from long-legged baby to well-built grownup; however, inside the uterus the growth is even more miraculous.

To think that nine months ago the growing foal was only the size of a pinhead and now, at 270 days, he/she is the size of a big dog with a coat of hair and hooves and eyes and long skinny legs... that is a miracle.

I confess. I have foal fever! I can't wait! Only two more months to go before, hopefully, at least one of the mares will foal; with my luck they'll both stubbornly hang on to their foals until day 365. There is a good chance that both will be born black, though I guess Miss A's will go roan. I hope one is a colt and one is a filly. However, so long as they both have happy, healthy, strong foals with uncomplicated births and happy, healthy, strong mares, the foals might as well be green with blue spots and both born geldings. Whatever - so long as everyone is happy and healthy.

If Skye has a boy he'll be called Thunderbird... though Mom says it's too short, I should call him Skye's Proud Thunderbird of Little Legend. (Who's been reading too much about show dogs? Mom and I keep a close eye on the dogs doing well in the show ring at the moment, Mom votes for the Irish wolfhound, Swordstone Faolan, and I'm backing the saluki, however we were both delighted to see that our virtually next-door neighbour, the Border collie Venron Zulu Warrior (he licked me once, he's better known as Rogan) is doing so well).

Apart from the lamenesses, the mares both look great. They're beginning to get big tummies now, I thought Miss A had a hay belly before I found out she was pregnant, and Skye's is big too. They're coming through the winter very well, if anything Missy is a bit fat. Skye is in excellent shape, fit and strong, well-rounded but not overweight. Achi is fat as a pig and Siobhanny looks pretty good too.

Kevin took me to meet the little mare I could show with at PTA, since it's cancelled for Missy, a few days ago. Heidi is a studbook proper Nooitgedacht filly. She's chestnut, though darker than Skye, with a petite little star and trickle and a snip, two white socks, and a long mane. She's a little taller than Skye, call it about 14.3 to 15hh. I really like her; she's only five and she's rather flighty, spooks a lot and is very hyper, but she's sensitive and responsive and she's beautiful. Kevin's show stallion is really a beautiful creature, a tall and elegant horse with three white socks and a blaze, grey roan in colour, though more spotty than Miss A. He's very wild; his previous 'trainer' seemed to have ear-twitched him and he hates to have his head touched. His name? Of course Kevin doesn't know, he never knows. Names are not his strong point.

The PTA calf show is coming up too. I was running around after horses way too much and only woke up in early July. I hadn't even started training a calf yet. I picked a beautiful heifer out of Line and by Moonshot, Lady Lynette, for my show calf, but Dr. Louis the vet came for pregnancy testing and Lyn is pregant too. Since I'm not going to show again this season - the shows are both spot on the mares' due dates - I decided to just take one of the nine heifers we showed last year; the youngest is not heavily pregnant and still reasonably small. She's called Bronwen out of Mom's favourite cow, Bontrok (registered as Manhu MMP May) and once again by Moonshot (Leon-Thom Rocket Moonshot) and she's rather nice.

Story-wise, Sparrowhawk is doing far the best; it's going to be a big one, only about two thirds of the way through it and already it clocks in at 72 560 words. A Promise for the Horses is standing still a bit but still quite long, already at 39 030 words (my last two were My Best Friend is a Werewolf at 54 000 words and The Morning Star Mare at about 40 000 words). Smallest of all is Moonrise at Midnight (yes, I did start it), which is in chapter three and 9200 words.

I lunged Siobhan a few days ago with the saddle on and she was okay, but now this blog is nearly as long as Moonrise at Midnight and I'm exhausted, so I'll post pictures of that next time.