Inbetween rainstorms, I saddled Autumn up and headed out to the forest trails.
Entrance into the forest.
Upon entering the woods, Autumn stopped. She was positioned in front of and overgrown path that ran straight through my memories. The trillium trail.
Yes. That trial is heading straight up!
Before Autumn was old enough to ride, I would take her for walks through the forest. On one such walk, upon entering the woods, she stopped and looked intently at a vertical mountain path. I coaxed her to follow me but she just wouldn't budge. In fact, she began to drag me towards it. Her persistence kidnapped my curiosity. I slipped off her halter and decided to see what her intent was. She started up the steep and muddy slope, stopped, turned her head toward me and gave me the well are you coming or not? look. I gave her a pat on the rump and off we went. She ducked under low tree limbs and stepped over fallen trees. When the brush got too thick to pass Autumn would turn around and find a new passage to continue on with her journey. Brambles tangled around us but lost their hold on us as we continued upwards. She held a steady, almost urgent pace, as I traipsed in wonder behind her. If I fell to far behind she would stop and wait patiently until I caught up and off again she would go. The path opened up to a flat area, just big enough for Autumn and I to stand. We were encircled by trees whose branches touched above us and whose leaves of past now rested brown and yellow beneath our feet. Autumn looked at me and then down at the ground. I came close beside her.
With her nose she touched the pink petals of a solitary trillium. I bent down and Autumn touched her soft muzzle against my hand. I marveled at Autumn. Could she have taken me all the way up here to show me this flower? How could she have known it was here? This overgrown trail had not been tread upon in ages according to all the thorns now pricked into my body. Her warm muzzle pushed me out of my thoughts and towards this little flower. I picked it. Autumn lifted her head with me as I stood up. Without hesitation, she started back down the path we came and I followed. We walked all the way back to the barn that day together, side by side. In my hand I held a bewildering gift that my great friend had given me that has transformed itself into the greatest of memories. I later learned that a trillium flower symbolizes purity, beauty and healing...all of what I appreciate in Autumn. Amazement, wonder and what my heart felt that day keep that memory with Autumn filled with magic and the love I have for her.
Autumn's trillium.
I keep it pressed and tucked into a favorite book.
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In the barn at the veterinary hospital we had two dairy goats, that were feeling a bit under the weather, staying with us for a few days. I spent a good part of the day assisting the doctor with their treatments. When we were finished I settled the dairy gals into the creme de la creme presidential suite stall complete with heat lamps, fluffy pine shavings, warm water, and a buffet of different types of hay to pick to graze on. With the gals tucked in, I ran inside the office to try and catch up on all the office work that decided to wait for me throughout the day. It was a half hour until closing and my finish line was in sight. Daylight savings time was in full affect and I was looking forward to getting back on the ranch and taking my horse, Autumn, on a sunset ride. Would I ride out to the look out? or would I ride the fern trail? or maybe..."Milk the goats before you leave." "What?" "The goats need to be milked before you leave." said the doctor. "I don't know how to milk a goat." "You'll figure it out." With that said, he shut the door, got in his truck and pushed the pedal to the metal. Seriously? I've seen the Ingalls do it on "Little House on the Prairie" and stuff but come on! Me?Milking? The only way I know how to get milk is to pull it out of a refrigerator not by pulling on some animal's lady parts! I was desperate. I called the owners hoping they would offer to come milk them out. I gave them an update on the progress of their goats and casually mentioned that I would have to figure out how to milk them. The owners come from a long line of Portuguese dairymen. I think these guys learned how to milk a cow before they learned how to walk. Upon mentioning that I had to milk their goats they exploded with laughter. "New York is going to have to milk the goats!" I heard more laughter in the background. They wished me luck and hung up. Out to the barn I went. I got a bucket, a stool to sit on, took all the precautions needed not to spread any bacteria from teat to teat and goat to goat and began my milking odyssey. First, I found a rope and tied my first scapegoat to the wall. Her udder was full like a balloon ready to pop and she was ready for me to get that milk out of her. I grabbed a hold of her teat and gave it a squeeze. No dice. I squeezed my whole fist tight, then I tried squeezing my fingers at different intervals. I basically played chop sticks on her teat like she was a grand piano but we weren't making music tonight. She looked at me like I was a first timer in the back seat of a car on prom night. I was pathetic. It was around this time that my husband, after seeing my car in the parking after closing, stopped by. His grin got bigger as I bitched out how bad I sucked at milking and how the doctor just left me with these poor engorged goats. After taking a few pictures on his cell phone he wished me luck and said he would leave a light on.
What's got your goat?
A primeval goat milking ex-New York girl that's who!
As I sat there next to my empty milk pail, I reflected on the times I watched baby goat kids nurse. They bash their little heads into their mom's udder, latch on her teat and practically suck it off. I wasn't going to do that but I decided to try and hand milk her in the same manner. I grabbed the teat, pushed up and squeezed down. And then it happened! Like a beam of sunlight gleaming through dark stormy rain clouds a heavenly limp stream of milk spurted out! Hallelujah!
I'm not crying over this spilled milk!
I got my flow going and I got milk. I was like Swiss Miss in there. After an hour and a half, I had both of those girls on empty and a milk pail full of pride. Pride was not the only thing I acquired that night. I think I may be facing assault charges and possibly a restraining order by the goats. It's all in a day's work.
Thanks for reading & all your great comments! I love them! I'd like to extend a big thanks for forwarding my blog on to your friends! If you would like to be added to my email list (I only send out my blog updates) please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com
A blue pickup truck backed up to our loading ramp at the veterinary hospital. The owner opened the tail gate and out followed an enormous panting ewe (a female sheep). The ewe looked like a wool covered blimp with little ears and stick legs poking out. That was why she was brought to see us. Although she was pregnant, she was bloated to double what her normal size should be. The owner wanted to make sure that her babies were still alive and that the ewe's life was not in danger. The doctors used the ultrasound to find another heart beating inside her besides her own. Due to her size and her level discomfort they decided that the safest thing to do was to induce her into labor. The doctors warned us that do to the unusual symptoms she was displaying that her lambs may be deformed or still born. We all took turns spending time with her, showering her with well wishes and positive thoughts. We watched her for two days before the doctor came running into the office. "She's in labor!" We all ran to her stall. Her water broke and it looked like the Hover Dam had broke loose. Momma ewe had deflated to half her size. The doctor had to help her deliver. She reached inside and pulled out a floppy little lamb. We all froze waiting to see any signs of life. As the doctor began to lower the little body to the ground we heard ...cough...cough... "It's alive! Here!" She passed me the slippery little lamb. As I took a hold of her she slipped right through my hands! That's when my crazy once-in-a-blue-moon ninja reflexes kicked in and I caught her before she crashed landed on her head. My heart was pounding. Now that I had this gooey, little critter in my hands I had no idea what to do with her. "What do I do?" I asked the doctor as she was reaching in for another lamb. She told me to hold her upside down to get all that slime out of her mouth. I got it all cleared out but she was going limp again. "She's not breathing!" "Blow in her mouth." And that's when I began lamby CPR to this little woolly ball and she came back to life for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I dried her and ruffled her up with a towel admiring what a little miracle I held in my hands. While I was taking care of my little lamb I hadn't noticed that she now had a brand new sister and brother.
The three little miracles. My little lamb is on the right.
We snuggled the lambs up to their exhausted momma who, snuzzled and kissed her little precious babies.
I love ewe momma!
The entire office staff was glued to that stall all day tending to these little cuties. One of our clients, who brought her horse in for an appointment that morning, was so captivated by these little lambs that she ended up staying the whole day to help us. We were all instantly in love with these little woolly bundles. We took turns making sure they were warm under the heat lamp and blankets. We picked them up as they fell teetering over to their momma. We did the volley ball dive to snatch them up if it looked like their exhausted momma might wobble over on top of them. As they day went on, my little lamb began to grow weaker as her eyes tried their hardest to sparkle. The owner came and loaded momma into the back of the truck. She placed the lambs in a cozy little box and let them ride shotgun beside her. As I tucked the lambs in the box I wished for them to grow strong and bouncy and prayed that they would all make it. We high fived each other in the parking lot as the pick up truck with the bumper sticker "Ewe-Haul", pulled off with our day of miracles in it. I called the next day to see how the lambs and momma made out. Unfortunately, my little lamby didn't make it but her brother, sister and momma were doing great. This is the hardest part of my job. Getting covered in poop, blood, pee, snot, working overtime, non stop phone calls... I can deal with all that stuff. It is when something that is out of our hands happens despite all of our efforts, care and love that really makes me sad. I will never make an excuse or rationalize my sadness. These moments of sadness just fill me with more compassion to share with the next being that needs my love and care.
Thanks for reading! Have a Happy St. Patrick's Day! If you would like to be added to my email list please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com. Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com
The first weekend in March, Autumn and I attended a bomb proofing and bonding clinic with horseman Michael Martin. What is a bomb proofing and bonding clinic? It is a two day clinic where you literally scare the living hell out of your horse and see if they still like you by the end of it. Why would I want to freak my horse out to prove that she still wants to hang out with me by the end of it? It is rather simple. If something out of my control frightens her I want her to know that I will face that danger and make sure that she is safe. Michael explained that if our horse was to get frightened by something that we were to literally stand and face that fear. For instance, if I were on the ground it would be up to me to get in between the scary object and Autumn and stare it down until it wasn't seen as a threat anymore. I was struck by the fact that I was not supposed to look at Autumn to calm and reassure her. The way Autumn sees it, if I'm not watching that scary thing coming at us, who was? A few times during the clinic when she was nervous she would stand behind me like an 1850 pound little girl hiding behind her mom. It made me feel great that she felt that safe standing behind me.
The first thing Michael had us do was to make what he called a "human arena". All the spectators and riders stood in a large circle, some with their horses, holding a whip. One participant then went into the center of the circle, took their horse's halter off and set them loose. The horse was then chased off from their owner. Any time that horse came close to the edge of the circle it would be shooed off. The idea was for the horse to figure out that the safest and most comfortable place to be was with their owner in the center of the arena. It took some horses longer then others to return to their owners. My heart melted when a horse finally joined back up with their owner and followed them without a halter. Autumn was pretty cute, she didn't even want to move away from me when they went to shoo her off. After some heated whipping she slowly moseyed off to the edge of the circle to say hi to everyone. With everyone confused on what to do with this giant, happy, unthreatened horse with a bow in her forelock ignoring the snapping whips, I called her back to me. Autumn came back to me for her pets and followed me back to the circle as my heart swelled with love for her.
Ron with a tornado of fury on his back...actually, a leaf blower
Micheal, his wife Pam and their right hand man Ron then transformed the arena into an obstacle course of horsey terror. They blew us with a leaf blower and chased us with the deadly plastic bag. We had to walk through hanging tarps and over tarps littered with crunching bottles, jugs and crinkling plastic bags. We had to walk over logs, climb over platforms, balance over a teeter totter. Autumn had to sniff a bear rug and llama fur and trot with the American flag waving at her side. Then we totally got medieval when they broke out the foam swords to storm the castle.
Meanwhile, over the P.A. system they played "scary" sounds...babies crying, honking cars, dogs barking, sirens, construction work sounds and they even broke out the bag pipes. Yes, bag pipes. Michael Martin was showing no mercy. There was one more thing to make sure our fever of fear was cured and that prescription was more cowbell. Anytime, we completed a hard task we had to wack on that cowbell and have it ring out across the land that we were not afraid. I have to admit, between the bag pipes honking over the P.A., horse's freaking out all around us while trying to complete the obstacle course my nerves were starting to get a bit fried. In all that commotion it dawned on me that Autumn and I were doing great. I wasn't worried about her spooking. My concern was protecting her and keeping her safe and she knew it.
When the horses in the arena seemed to have a handle on the obstacle course, Michael had us head outside for the grand finale. He had us get off our horses, gave us some instructions, walked across the field and opened fire. He fired off a few rounds of blanks from his pistol. Autumn danced around a bit. I just kept her moving and kept my cool. Before I knew it she was dragging me around to graze and could care less about the noise. By the second day of the clinic I was in the saddle gun slinging.
To bid us farewell, they threw a few smoke bombs at us.
Ready for battle.
At the end of the clinic I felt like I had a war horse beneath me. A war horse that trusted her rider, believed in her and would go anywhere for her. That great feeling was accomplished in only two days with a whole lot of cowbell.
Word!
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