Wait a Minute Mr. Postman!

Hi!
I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to Pam (aka Snowdrops), Elizabeth and Kristen for their donations to the HERO Ride For Life, American Cancer Fundraiser Ride, Autumn and I are doing May 5th.  For more information you can visit our last blog At It Again.  Any donation is appreciated and it all goes to a helping a great cause that effects us all.  You can make a check payable to the American Cancer Society and mail it to Margaret Hague, PO Box 1356, Blue Lake, CA 95525 by May 1st. 
If you have someone special that you would like us to honor, Autumn and I will carry their name on a heart with us during the ride.
Thanks so much for helping us help a great cause!
Margaret & Autumn

At 8:00 in the morning, when I got into work at the veterinary hospital, the appointment book was lazy with openings.  By 8:30 the phones were screaming and we were scheduling emergencies into the doctors lunch hour.  A sheep had gotten run over by their distraught owner.  A cow needed her unborn dead calf, stuck inside of her backwards, pulled out.  Four baby goats, that were healthy the night before, had been found passed away this morning. The owners wanted a postmortem performed to find out why and what happened  to prevent anymore unhappy mornings.  Twenty five cows needed to be pregnancy tested. Bulls were coming in for semen testing and labwork to prove that they were STD free.  A mystery had to be solved of why a horse was lame, another was coming in to find out if she was pregnant and others needed to be vaccinated.  A calf needed it's horn buds burned...  The appointment book looked exhausted.  In the middle of all this, I had to make sure I had the dead goats and the bull lab work was packed up to send to the university and delivered to the courier by 2:30.
The doctors were swarming in and out of the office completing their appointments.  The bulls rolled in right on time and I slipped on my coveralls, pulled my hair back tight and slapped on my knee high boots...the official B.S. uniform.  It was time for me to shine as an expert bull ejaculator. (For a tutorial on ejaculating check out It's The Bad As It Sounds Job)   I usually dread this job because I think it's kind of violating and feel like a weirdo doing it.  For a while I was puzzled when the doctors would pull me out of the office to be the ejaculator when the owner of the bulls would volunteer to be the pitcher for the procedure.  Did they enjoy seeing me back there with my lips sealed tight hoping that my face wasn't about to become a cowpie-brown abstract painting? I had to ask.  According to the doctors  I have a certain je ne sais quoi when it comes to ejaculating.  Bottom line, I'm good and I get results.  Not only am I the office Not So Petite Rodeo Princess (See Not So Petite Rodeo Princess for the dirt )  but the Maestro Of The Ejaculator as well.  Another skill to add to the old resume.  Apparently I've got some skills when it comes to shoving a big probe up a bull's butt and praying that he ejaculates before anyone sees me doing it. 
The appointment went smoothly thanks to my expertise and I was back in the office packaging up the lab work.  With a few minutes to spare, I dashed out the door with a 30 pound package full of goat heads, livers, kidneys and a few pouches of bull smegma tucked in to it to hand off to the courier.  I got it there just in time to pass the unassuming box to the young college girl at the counter.  In this case I'm a big fan of the don't ask don't tell policy.   No need to open Pandora's box and spoil someone's lunch.

Thanks for reading!  If you would like leave a comment or would like to be added to my mailing list please contact me at jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com.
Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com

At It Again

Hi,
Autumn and I are at it again.  It is the HERO Ride For Life Fundraiser which raises money for the American Cancer Society.  The ride is Saturday May 5th 2012.  Autumn and I will spend the entire day riding in honor of those who are suffering from cancer, those who have beat cancer and in memory of those whom we have lost to cancer. 
We are asking for a donation of any amount.  No amount is too small or too large...even a dollar would help.  I think that if we all help a little that the Jackson Hill Horsey Girl blog posse will make a huge difference!  Lets help find a cure for cancer and provide support for those going through one of the hardest times of their lives. 

If you have someone special that you would like us to honor, Autumn and I will carry their name on a heart with us during the ride.

If you would like to make a donation you can send a check payable to the American Cancer Society and mail it to Margaret Hague, PO Box 1356, Blue Lake, CA 95525.  Please send before May 1, 2012.  If you would like a tax deductible receipt please make sure to include your address.  If you have any questions please email me at Jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com.

Thanks for helping Autumn and I help a great cause!  Let's see how much we can raise together!
:-) Margaret & Autumn

Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com

Goat Diva

It was a rainy morning when one of our dairy goat clients came through the door of the veterinary hospital.  He carried in a large bucket with two very sick baby goat kids nestled inside.  By the time we took the bucket from him and walked to the exam room, one of the kids passed away.  Susie and I bustled about the office hanging heating lamps and placing a heating pad beneath the poor little baby.  The doctor scooped up the limp, barely breathing doeling (a female baby goat) and took her temperature.  It was so low that it wasn't even registering on the thermometer.  My hope for this little one surviving was fading with her. 
The doctor told me to clip the fur away from the doeling's  vein as he readied some injections.  He administered the Hail Mary treatments and within seconds she lifted her head.  In a few minutes she was chatting away to us.  Susie warmed up a bottle and when she offered it to this little weak creature she almost lost her hand.  That baby goat slammed that bottle down faster then a teacher at happy hour on a Friday. 

Susie and our little binge bottle drinking doeling.

After her second feeding she was running the office.  She was sitting at the desk answering phones, putting on invoices, entertaining customers...  She was a natural.  

"Thank you for calling the veterinary hospital.   I'm a cute baby goat.  How can I direct your call?"

A little before noon her owner stopped by the office, thinking that he was coming to pick up an empty bucket.  He couldn't believe when the little doeling walked around the corner to greet him. We gave him her care instructions and told him that we named her...Beyonce. 
"Beyonce?  What's a Beyonce?" he asked.
I explained that Beyonce is some diva that sings some crappy pop song that you can never get out of your head, called I'm a Survivor.   We thought it fitting for this little doeling.  She was a survivor and...a diva.

This song's for you Beyonce goat! 

You go doeling!

(just pretend the divas are goats...it may be easier to watch)

  



Thanks for reading!  Don't forget to email me to be added to my emailing list for future blog notifications jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com .

Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com

Trillium

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.

Thanks for reading!  If you would like to join my email list please contact me at jacksonhillhorseygirl@gmail.com.
Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com

Get Milk?

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

Bitter Sweet

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

More Cowbell. More Confidence.

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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Copyright (c) 2012 Jacksonhillhorseygirl.com