Wednesday, July 25, 2007, 05:51
A Warm, Wet, Wool Blanket
Although we've had some nice days with low humidity this summer, that's not the case now. Walking outside is like trying to breathe through a warm, wet, wool blanket. Tuesday, the humidity was very high, and combined with the sun and the sticky air and a 91-degree temperature, it was downright miserable.
The humidity, though, may have been helpful in one respect.
When Randy went to work Tuesday morning at 7 a.m., he discovered our little white country church had been attacked with a paint-ball gun and that the front facing the road had been spattered with orange paint. He stopped and called the sheriff's department. Then he waited for the deputy to show up. He also called the church sexton.
When the deputy finally arrived, she told them it would be best to wash the paintball paint off right away. For one thing, it is a soap-based product, and if it was washed off before it dried, it would wash off well. For another thing, she said that if it was washed off, whoever had done it wouldn't get a "thrill" from driving by and seeing it and saying, "I did that."
Since it was so humid, the paintball paint had not yet dried by 8 o'clock Tuesday morning.
Unfortunately, the paintballs also made holes in the new siding we put up on the church a few years ago. Now we have to repair the siding.
It could have been worse. The vandals could have used an enamel-based spray paint. And then the siding most likely would have been stained.
One thing about it, though. If it had been winter, and there was snow in the ditch, when they pulled off into the ditch to shoot at the church, they might not have gotten out so easily.
On the other hand, it's not the first time the church has been shot at. We have the old weather vane here at the house, the one that was taken down when we did the siding and fixed the steeple. And it, too, has been shot full of holes.
What are people thinking? As Randy says, someday, they are going to have to explain their actions to St. Peter. (I mean, really. Wouldn't that be sort of awkward to have to say that you had defaced a church just for the fun of it? . . .)
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, July 23, 2007, 20:46
The Best-Laid Plans
My birthday present is out in the yard. Randy built it for me last weekend. It's a small training arena where I can work with Isabelle. My birthday isn't until August, but it's nice to have the arena now. I helped some, too. Dug a few post holes. Pounded a few nails. Randy did most of it, however.
Or at least, my arena *would* be nice -- if I could find time to use it. I wanted a smaller space so Isabelle cannot "get up a head of steam" while we are trying to figure out stop, start and turn.
I thought I was going to have time Friday evening to get Isabelle out. I took the halter and the bridle and brushes and fly spray out to the pasture with me. Put the halter on Isabelle. . .
And then Kajun started running around like he had lost his mind. Which made Isabelle think there was something to be frightened of. I stopped and listened. Then I heard it. A cow moo-ing. And not just moo-ing, but moo-ing and running.
Anyone who has ever been around cows know that moo-ing and running generally means only one thing: THE COWS ARE OUT!
A car drove past our place just then and headed up the dirt road. Then I heard the car horn beeping.
Oh, great.
The cows were not just out. THEY WERE OUT IN THE ROAD!
Hello-Hello?
I took the lead off Isabelle and headed up to the backyard. I went in the house and tried to call the neighbor to the east and the neighbor to the north. No answer. The cows belonged either to the neighbor to the east or the neighbor to the north.
Then I went out to get in the truck. When I arrived at the neighbor's place north of here, I could see the cows were Jerseys. That meant they belonged to the neighbor to the east. I drove over there, but no one was home.
I started calling around to try to find someone else to help. The neighbor's son was not home. And the neighbor's relatives were not home, either. The people who owned the place where the cows had escaped to were not home. And the brother of the people who owned the place where the cows had escaped to were not home.
Which brought up another question: DOESN'T ANYONE STAY HOME ON FRIDAY NIGHT?
Sure, Randy wasn't home, either. But that's because my husband was down at the church, mowing the cemetery.
I left a message on Randy's cell phone. And continued to try to find someone to help with the cows.
Stop!
Eventually the neighbor's son got our messages and came with the four-wheeler to try to chase the cows home. A steer, a heifer and the bull were out. Randy and I headed up the dirt road with Charlie to see if we could help. I put Charlie on the leash because I didn't want the bull to take exception to a dog wandering around in close proximity. Plus, if cows look at him too closely, Charlie barks at them.
On the other hand, if we didn't take Charlie and tied him up at home, he would sit and bark. And it was a nice opportunity for Charlie to get out for a little walk, after all.
The neighbor's son finally got the cows out of the other neighbor's pasture. It was almost dark by then. While Randy and the neighbor tried to get the gate closed again, Charlie and I tried to hold the cows on the driveway.
Mr. Bull wanted none of it. He kept trying to sneak past us.
Do you know how hard it is to keep a cow in one spot while you are dragging an unwilling dog along behind you?
Finally the bull decided to make a break for it. Charlie and I gave chase. Randy did, too. When we got to the willow tree in the neighbor's yard, Mr. Bull put his head down. Charged under the hanging branches of the weeping willow. Galloped out the other side. Galloped across the yard.
And then he was gone.
The last I saw of him -- or rather, the last I heard of him -- was the bull crashing through the woods, the heifer and the steer right on his heels.
Before we got there, Mr. Bull had figured out the other neighbor's heifer was in heat. He was going back to find her again. And he didn't care who he ran over to get there.
Home Again
The neighbor and Randy put the gate up as best they could. Then the neighbor headed back through the dark woods with the four-wheeler to try to find the cattle. He came back a few minutes later all by himself.
We stood there for a little while, talking under a dark sky lit up with twinkly stars, and then, much to our surprise, the heifer and steer came back to the yard. They must have heard us talking. And they must have decided they were ready to go home.
The bull was nowhere to be seen, of course.
The long and short of it was that the neighbor chased the steer and heifer home with the four-wheeler and left the bull there overnight. Randy and I and Charlie headed back home.
It was 11 p.m. when we walked in the house.
I had gone out at 7:30 to put Isabelle's halter on.
So much for working with Isabelle in my new training arena Friday night.
Saturday was hot during the day, so I didn't feel like working with Isabelle out in the sun. Saturday evening it was warm and sticky and, also, I got backed up with other chores. Sunday afternoon it was thundering and lightning and raining some.
Sunday evening, I was able to get Isabelle out for a little while. We're working on just getting used to being out of the pasture and learning the limits of the training arena. I don't know if she will ever get used to the bit.
It's a start, anyway. But if I don't get more time than this to work with Isabelle, I'm never going to turn her into a riding horse! Won't be from lack of trying on Randy's part, though, now that he has built a nice training arena for me. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph
P.S. I have some other pictures of the arena and me and Isabelle and Randy and Isabelle, but they will have to wait. The Internet has been very slow today (on Monday), and it is just about impossible to upload pictures to my website.
