Kung Fu Chicken

     Back in New York, I would occasionally help my friends out by watching their farm when they would head out of town.  They had horses, dogs, a bunch of cats, newts(little lizards) and chickens. Before leaving for a weekend away my girlfriend went over all the to-do's and not-to-do's.  After the sixth time of telling me that I had to lock up all 12 of the chickens at night so the raccoons wouldn't kill them, I got the hint that this was a big deal.  If even a single chicken got killed her little boys would be traumatized. Got it.  Get all 12 of the chickens in at night.   She said to let them out in the morning and at night all I had to do was simply shake a can of cracked corn and they would all come running.  She even gave me a demonstration which proved true as she rattled the can and all the little cluckers ran into the safty of their hutch. 
     My friends left and I assumed the leading roll to their routine.  The day rolled out easy enough minus a dead squirrel floating in the water trough which I had to scoop out with a pitchfork.  As the day rolled to a close I fed the horses, dogs, cats and newts, leaving the chickens for last.  Sure enough, I gave their little corn can a shake and the girls came running in.  I shut the gate and called it a day.
     The next morning dawned on another routine day minus two more squirrels dead in the water trough.  With the squirrels scooped out and the sun now setting I fed the horses, dogs, cats, newts and headed to the hen house.  I shook the magic corn can, opened the gate and no hens.  Hum....maybe they couldn't hear me.  I walked all around the barnyard but there wasn't a feather to be found.   I went into the woods and shook the can with not even a rustle.  The sun was setting and anxiety was rising within me.  I went deeper and deeper in the woods.  I called the girls as I frantically shook the corn can.  I heard a rustle behind me and turned around as squawking chicken blitzed past me running for its life.  As much as I wanted to turn tail and take that chicken's unspoken advice to run like hell for the barn a vision of my friend popped in my head...."the boys will be traumatized."  I sucked it up and did the thing that you always yell at the idiot not to do in the horror movie...I headed the way the chicken came running from.  I shook the corn can and headed towards the rustling.  Out of the shadows a chicken came blasting past me with a ninja in hot pursuit. In a full black ninja getup, complete with a face mask revealing only his eyes, the ninja zig and zagged through the trees, rolling under low branches and making dives to catch the chicken.

No rubber chickens were harmed in the taking of this photo.

I was frozen in place.  There was rusteling in all around me.  In the darkness I could make out another eight ninjas that were all chasing the chickens.  I reviewed if there was any possibility that I was dreaming or if I had acciedentally taken LSD or mushrooms for the first time without remembering it. Nope.  None of the above.  This was the real deal. Ninjas and chickens were darting around like...well...like chickens with their heads cut off.  My body decided to screw standing around waiting for my mind to figure out what was going down.  I chucked the corn can and began running for my life before some crazy ninja had a chance to get all crouching tiger, hidden dragon on me.
     The black tight warriors were air kicking, ninja rolling and teenage mutant ninja turttling all around me. But it wasn't me they wanted.  They wanted chicken.   I bolted toward the lights of the barn with the chickens, which at this point, had decided to put their faith in me, and clucked, hawked, squawked, pooped and shot out eggs all over the place...okay not eggs.  The ninjas were karate kidding it behind us as they were eating our dust.  The girls and I burst out of the woods and into the light.  They ran straight into their pen, no corn can shaking required.  I slammed their door shut, not missing a stride, as I busted into the house, locked all the doors and windows. 
     I wanted to call my dad.  I wanted to call the police. But what was I going to tell them?  "I need you to come out right away!  There are a bunch of ninjas chasing my chickens in the woods!" Instead of having the cops or my dad come out and wonder what kind of drugs I was on I decided to peak out the living room curtain with the fire place poker, the cordless phone and the dogs next to me all night.
I didn't sleep much that night fearing that there were a bunch of Jackie Chans and Chuck Norris' crawling up the side of the house.  The morning finally came and I peaked out the door.  Everything looked normal except two more squirrels drank the cool aid and were floating in the water trough.  I cautiously walked over to the hen house and all 12 of the exhausted girls were passed out in their nests.  I opened the gate and none of them went out.  I threw their feed in the hutch and closed the gate.
By mid noon, my friends returned.  I was rolling it over in my mind how I wanted to mention my night with the power rangers.  My girlfriend saved me the trouble when she said, "I forgot to tell you that my neighbor who is a Kung Fu instructor was going to have his students train in the woods this weekend to practice their moves or something like that." 
"Do some of their skills involve chasing chickens?" 
"Yeah, you know he said something about them trying to catch running chickens.  Why?" she asked.
"They suck at it."


Thanks for reading!  Yes this really happened.  I'm not creative enough to make something like that up.  If you would like to get in touch with me or to get added to the email list for the blog contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@aol.com.


Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com  June 27, 2012

Bucket List

     I have a big bucket list.  Actually, I should really call it an in ground swimming pool list with all the stuff I have on it.  A few dreams to check off of it is to go to the Eiffel tower and smooch my main squeeze in front of it, gallop Autumn on the beach without a saddle and bridle, meet Prince William and Princess Kate and give them a box of tea, get a new car, get a house with closets, pet and hug a baby elephant.... There's a ton more but one of the simpler ones was to show Autumn in a horse show and win a ribbon to hang on my wall.  When my friend, Gwen, mentioned that there was a local show coming up and that I should enter I wimped out with a  bunch of excuses.  Autumn was still green, I didn’t have my show outfit together, I didn’t know if I could ask Cindy for a ride and make her stand around all day to wait for us.  I didn’t go to that first show.  

       When the second show rolled around Gwen called to remind me that my entry fees were due and that I needed to get them in pronto.  This time, no excuses.  I entered all five of the English walk/trot events which I felt we were ready for. 

       With the entries flying through the mail I realized I had some work to do.  I tried on my old show clothes that had mysteriously shrunk over the past few years.  I had to order some new duds.  Apparently, the sizes now a day run real small so I had to order the next size up.  Not only did I have to get myself put together but my giant wild mountain horse needed to have her long mane tamed.  I watched You tube videos on how to braid a long mane and tail into a “wow” maker for show ring. 

Thank you YouTube!

That's no weave.

       Besides pulling major dress rehearsals, we practiced in the arena every morning at 5:30 before work.  Riding around an arena at that time in the morning seems to glitch into some kind of time warp.  I would trot around in circles until I was sure I was late for work, check my watch only to discover that we had trotted around for about six minutes….ugh  arena work!

       The afternoon before the show I cleaned my saddle and bridle, did a dress rehearsal in my new clothes and decided that my breeches had shrunk some more.  I got Autumn from the pasture to get her primped for her big day.  I guess she suspected we had a big to-do coming up so she decided to smear some lovely pine sap perfume all over her neck.  I tried to bath out the sap but it won and it was coming with us to the show. 

       The sun was just lighting up the barn the morning of the show when I arrived.  The first rays of light caught sight of a four alarm “Code Brown”.  Overnight, Autumn had rested her head right in a pile of poop with its evidence smeared across her white blaze. 

Code Brown...It happens.

     After frantic scrubbing with a wash rag I got it almost white again while Autumn tried to fling me out of her stall.  I then began to braid her mane.  I was using some waxed hemp twine to tie up her braids and had a four foot piece ready to add to the braid I was working on.  Autumn pushed me around and I dropped the piece of  twine.  As I was nearing the end of the braid I bent down to pick it up.  It wasn’t there.  I couldn’t find the twine that looked like hay, that fell in the hay that Autumn was eating.  My stomach filled with a load of iron anxiety.  Twine in a horse’s gut could mean the end.   It can strangulate their intestines as the body forces itself to try and digest it.  I began freaking out.  I called my veterinarian boss at home.  It was 6:30am on Sunday.  I woke him up.  “Autumn ate twine!  Is she going to colic and die?  Should I not show?  How long until it could come out?  Can she digest it?  Should I…”

     He cut me off “She’ll probably digest it.  Go show.” Click.

     I continued braiding Autumn who wasn’t thrilled with me tugging on her mane.  She tried shoving me off the step ladder.  When that didn’t work she proceeded to try and kick the ladder out from under me and then got it caught through her leg.  It turned into a mixed martial arts match.  The result ended in a tie.  I got her braided and lived and she looked  pretty darn gorgeous.  All braided and de-pooped, I loaded Autumn up in Cindy’s trailer and the three of us were on our way. 

     The horse show was alive with the excitement of both horses and riders.  I had 45 minutes until our first event, just enough time to get both of us dressed.  Friends of ours arrived to cheer us on…Elizabeth & Stephen from the ranch, Marci from the veterinary office and her husband Mike, and my husband Casey who was able to make it by working overtime the night before. 

My groom the groom.
Thanks for working overtime for me!

All dressed up, Autumn turned a lot of heads… well she turned them upward…as we walked to the arena with our entourage.  She swept the title of being the biggest horse at the show that day.

      We warmed up in the practice arena while Autumn screamed her head off hoping to have a friend answer.  Before we knew it our number was called to enter the show arena.  We blasted into the arena at a trot. 



Trotting to a blue ribbon!

      The judges proceeded to ask us to sit the trot, walk, post at the trot and change directions,  halt, back up and line up for the ribbon announcement.  The first name called was mine and Autumn’s!  We had won the class!  There it was, another dream crossed off the list! Not only did we win a ribbon to hang on the wall but it was a first place blue! Our groupies went wild on the sidelines.

Our groupies waiting to hear the ribbons announced on the side lines!

       The next class it was basically a repeat of the first, except for the fact that Autumn decided to stop dead at the trot to take a dump.  Despite her giving a crap, we still managed to place second out of the five people in the event.  I’m sure the folks that placed behind us thought it was a load of horse sh*t that we beat them.  What are you going to do?

     A few of the events we were in, we were the only ones in the class.  I asked the judges if I really needed to trot around for them.  They replied that I wouldn’t win the blue if I fell off, so I went for it.  I felt like we were figure skaters with the rink to ourselves minus the ice, the skates and leotards with the nude stockings.  We went through the motions and when it was time to line up for the ribbons, I asked the judge "How did we do?"  Since I was able to keep Autumn in between myself and the ground we won the blues.

   We won a fifth place in the biggest class of eight riders, coming in behind all of the major horse show pros.  I was real proud of Autumn for that one.  

       Our last class, which we were all alone in again began like the others…walk, trot, “Canter” they announced.

“Wait, wait.”  I stopped Autumn.  “I didn’t enter any cantering classes”

“Well you are in it.” Said the announcer.

The judge said “Might as well give it a try.”  At this point most of the people at the horse show stopped what they were doing and came over to watch us.

I asked Autumn to trot and the announcer said “You’re still trotting I said canter.”

“I’m building up momentum.”  I yelled back.  When we got to the corner I asked her to go and boy did Autumn go!  She thundered around the arena like a champ in both directions.  She did it!  I was so proud of her.  The judge thanked us for providing the intermission performance as she handed us the blue.  I told her that even though we were the only ones in there that I felt like we really earned that blue. 

Autumn looks embarrassed showing off all her ribbons. She's so modest.

I don’t know how we got entered into that cantering class (Gwen any ideas???) but I’m glad we did it!  Now we know we can do it!

Gwen and her champion horse It's All The Rage

      It was a great day.  I can tell that Autumn loved showing off that day, with her ears forward and doing everything I asked with ease.  Winning the ribbons were fun but the greatest part of the show was when I realized what great friends I have that came out to support us, cheer us on, drive us there, take video and photos of us and perhaps secretly signed us up for a cantering class. 

    After seeing friends and making new ones,

Autumn fell in love with little Biscuit!

Autumn was ready to go back to the ranch.  I untied her braids and took her out to the pasture.  When I let her loose she found the nearest spa and slipped in for a soak which she absolutely deserved.

Autumn soaking in a mud bath at the Jackson Hill Spa.

Thanks for reading!  I have changed my email address for the blog.  I give up on gmail.  You can now get added to my email list or drop me a comment at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@aol.com.

Copyright © 2012  Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com
June 20, 2012

It's An East Coast West Coast Thing

I went back home to New York after two and a half years of hiding out in northern California.  It was great to see the family, friends and to eat good food again.  Yes, I'm taking a dig at California cooking and I feel no remorse for saying so.  After six years of living here I'm starting to see myself acclimating to the northern pacific lifestyle.
Packing for the trip I had to ditch the six inch pocket knife I carry in my pocket book.  I had to search hard for clothes without a Carhartt logo on them, shirts that weren't flannel and shoes that weren't caked in mud.  I ended up packing real light. 
Being back in the old neighborhood I thought about how much simpler it was to live back in New York.  When you take a shower clean water comes out.  They don't get those days at the end of summer when you start sucking up the last bit of scum in the pond that you have been draining from all year long. When you are cold you simply turn up the thermostat instead of building a fire that sometimes doesn't work because you're too lazy to hack up small pieces of kindling which you end up cursing out and find the emergency Duralog that you keep hidden for moments like these.  
Out here there are these things called "take and bake pizzas"  which are pretty popular. For $20 you can order a raw pizza, wait 20 minutes for them to make it, drive it home and bake it for another 20 minutes and by ten o'clock at night it might be ready to eat.  I don't know about California but in NY, if you're buying a pizza it's because you don't feel like cooking.  I don't get it. 

Screw cooking! 

One thing you can't do in New York is start shooting your .22 or .38 caliber guns in your backyard.  I never thought that I'd ever hold a gun let alone shoot pink plastic flamingos on my front lawn with one.  Even my horse Autumn gets a kick out of me shooting some rounds off of her.  She's a real redneck at heart. 
It was great getting back to the city.  There's the people, fashion, street corner foods, street performers, lights, museums, parks, yellow cabs, sky scrappers, shopping...  Then there's the Brooklyn Bridge, Empire State Building, Time Square, Broadway, Grand Central Station, Macy's, Statue of Liberty, the Freedom Towers built around Ground Zero...The whole city pulsates around you.  You enter into this giant ocean that pulls you around in it's currents.  The 22.7 square miles of Manhattan can have up to 3.9 million people there during the day.  Humboldt County, where I live, is 3,568 square miles with a population of 134,623.
It was exciting being a tourist in my old home town.  As great a time as I had, I had to leave.  When I got back to our little cabin of the woods a massive blob of depression was sitting on my door step to greet me.  The sadness of leaving my family, friends and pizza behind crippled me but it helped when I took Autumn for a ride on the beach and went from this...

Curbside Sky.

To this..

Saddle back Sky with Autumn's mane breezing in the wind.

I'd like to congratulate my great friends Andrea (another east coast gal) and Aaron on their new baby girl Vera Nicole.  Don't forget to teach her that it's sneakers not tennis shoes, that woods means the same thing as forest and that "take and bake pizzas" just aren't natural.

Thanks for reading!  If you would like to be added to my mailing list or would like to leave a comment please contact me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com.

Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com June 13, 2012