Tuesday, August 23, 2005, 06:09
Home at Last. . .
I'm going to have lots of horse manure to clean up Tuesday morning -- our new mare arrived home Monday afternoon about 2:30!
The man we bought her from hauled her over here for us. He didn't even pull in the driveway, just parked his truck and trailer by the side of the road, unloaded her and led her down the hill toward the barn.
The mare came out of the trailer as if she had done it a thousand times.
This was the third time, ever, that's she been hauled anywhere.
At 1:30, I had put my Morgan-Arab gelding in the barn and put the gate across the doorway. "Look who's here, Kajun," I said, as the man led the mare closer to the barn.
The look on my gelding's face was priceless -- "Whaaaat? But, but, that's -- that's a HORSE! Like ME!"
The two of them sniffed noses over the gate, then the man handed the lead rope to me. I led her around the small pasture next to the barn. Then I turned her loose. She immediately started picking what little grass she could find. It's been so dry, there's not much grass in the small pasture where Kajun spends the summer. We have lots and lots of pasture, but I can't turn the gelding out in it this time of year, or he would literally eat himself sick.
The man chatted for a few minutes. Then he left. And I was all alone with my horses.
In the meantime, the gelding was getting more and agitated and was trying to find a way to open the gate. He was shuffling around and pouncing up and down (that's his way of preparing to rear).
"Great," I said. "Kajun's going to hurt himself if he keeps this up."
All at once, the mare came over to the gate. Looked at Kajun. And nickered very softly, low in her throat.
The transformation in the gelding was astounding. He immediately calmed down. Moved back out of the hot sunlight streaming in the door. Cocked one hind foot. Dropped his head. And relaxed.
I have no idea what the mare said to him, but it must have been what he wanted to hear.
As the afternoon went on, I started to wonder why the mare wasn't getting a drink. She'd been eating hay. And it was fairly warm outside. Before she arrived, I had put a pail of fresh water by the fence for her. She sniffed it a couple of times but wouldn't drink anything.
This evening, I figured it out. The pasture where she was before she came here is surrounded by an electric fence. She was afraid of the wire. When I carried the bucket to her, then she got a drink.
Just before sunset, we switched them around and turned the gelding outside and put the mare in the barn. I can tell she's nervous because she keeps sniffing the air. And her bowels are loose. Other than that, she's staying fairly calm. And is eating hay as fast as she can chew. The poor thing could stand to put on a hundred pounds, so I'm glad to see her eating.
As for a name, we haven't picked one yet. Randy wanted something with "Belle" in it. I suggested Isabel (or Isabelle). So we're considering calling the mare Isabelle.
I went out to check on the horses at 12:30 a.m., and everything appeared to be fine. As Randy said before he went to bed, "So far, so good."
LeAnn R. Ralph
Monday, August 22, 2005, 06:38
The Lost is Found
I didn't know I was lost. Really, I didn't. Honest.
It's just that when we went out looking for blackberries Sunday afternoon, I had found a half a five-quart pail of elderberries, and I knew where I could find more.
Randy was somewhere behind me, buried in blackberry brambles. I had been in the blackberry brambles, too, and some of the canes were much taller than me and were bigger around than my thumb. I wasn't too eager to fight my way through there just to tell him I was going to look for elderberries. Besides, it would only take me ten minutes to fill my pail.
So, I headed off down the fenceline toward the thicket of elderberry bushes. When I was halfway there, I heard the jingle of tags and happy panting coming up behind me. It was our Springer Spaniel, Charlie. He apparently had heard me leave and wasn't about to miss out on the adventure.
While I picked elderberries, Charlie sat on the path, looking back in the direction where Randy was, bolt upright, ears perked.
In short order, I filled my pail with elderberries, and when I turned around, who should I see out on the road but my husband, wandering back and forth, looking as if he were searching for something.
"There you are!" he said.
"Yes, here I am," I replied.
He crawled through the fence and walked toward Charlie and I.
"I've been looking and looking," he said. "I was beginning to wonder if you had tripped over a log and had fallen down in the blackberries and hit your head or something."
"No," I said, "I was right here. Picking elderberries."
"I can see that now," he said. "There I was -- LeAnn? LeAnn! LeAaaaaannnn? I walked up and down the hill a couple of times looking for you."
"Charlie knew where I was. And he knew where you were," I said. "He kept looking back in that direction with his ears perked."
"I suppose he heard me calling for you," Randy said.
"Well, I'm here, you're here, and Charlie's here, so we're all here," I said.
As it turned out, Randy had gotten about a quart of blackberries. The blackberries aren't that great this year. It's been much too hot and much too dry.
"Do we have enough for jam?" he asked.
"No," I said.
"Oh," Randy replied.
"But we will if I mix the blackberries with elderberries," I said.
"Oh!" Randy said.
When we got back to the house, I started stripping elderberries off the elderberry heads. That's one of the things I like about elderberries. They're so easy to pick. Just cut off the big clumps of berries (or break them off). Stripping the berries, although time-consuming, can be done in the comfort of my own kitchen, rather than outdoors, crawling through the brush.
When I was finished picking over the elderberries, I crushed the blackberries, measured them out and then added enough elderberries for a batch of jam.
Sunday evening, I made four pints of blackberry/elderberry jam. I did not, however, have enough elderberries for one pie.
I had enough for two pies!
So, we ended up with four pints of jam and two pies. Not bad for being "lost" for ten minutes.
LeAnn R. Ralph