I was sitting at the hairdresser's, quietly reading People magazine while waiting for my husband to get a haircut, when my daughter texted me. (Her phone has malfunctioned, and she can't actually use it to make voice calls.) Her message read: "All the horses are lying on the ground and Rose is making really weird noises. What's that about?"
Now anyone who has read Zamba: The True Story of the Greatest Lion That Ever Lived (and if you haven't read it, you should), knows that overnight, all your horses can just, like, drop dead, so her message was not calculated to enhance my hairdresser waiting experience.
I texted back, asking her to go in and see if they got up. No, they didn't get up. People magazine by this point had totally lost its charm.
I texted back: Throw something at them. I waited for a reply, and then, unable to stand the suspense, finally called the phone of one of her friends who was with her, and asked her to put my daughter on: Yup, we threw sticks at them, they got up, they're fine.
Pumping my daughter later for further information, I found out that Chloe had not been lying down, but that the other three had all been sacked out within three feet of each other. The weird noises Rose had been making were probably like the noises George made the other day when he was lying down. Kind of snoring. My daughter and her two friends had gone in and stood by the horses, who had been quite happy to lie there despite the girls' presence, until the stick barrage ruined their beauty sleep.
So. Wow. What's up with all this lying down? I've seen Chloe lying down in the distance once. George was lying down the other day. Rose and Bridget lay down when they had gas colic. But that's it. And today three of them were lying down together. On the one hand, we have a whole new level of food competition going on between them, and on the other hand they're all having a cosy nap together. You just never know what's going to happen next.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
George is Worried About Food
Colder weather has arrived, and George can't think about anything except where his next meal is coming from. Even while his current meal is in front of him.
He is not cold; he is not thin. But he is apparently very anxious about starving to death.
The other horses are acting normal - that is, they get enthusiastic when food appears, but they can still can spare as many brain circuits as before to devote to other topics.
George has started trying to stake a claim to all the food buckets when they arrive. He doesn't succeed, but whereas he used to get his nose into his own bucket and stay there, he now runs over to Bridget's as soon as it hits the ground (hers is second in the chain), which causes Bridget to go over to his bucket, and then it's musical buckets for the rest of feeding time.
He looked very cross at me today when I patted his neck while he was eating hay. If you go in to talk to him, he has only one question: "Did you bring me something to eat?" And if the answer is no, he walks away.
Last winter (our first winter with George), we didn't face this issue, as we were in Mississippi, where the weather stays mild most of the time. Although I think maybe we put a rug on him, as this was before I started hearing about how much better it is for horses to regulate their own temperature. Perhaps he'd feel safer if he had a rug.
I think this is all psychological. He is clearly getting enough calories. Cold weather must bring on a fear of hunger for him.
I don't know whether to give him more food. Sometimes, he'll even be worried while there's hay on the ground (still edible, as the horses are eating it). Today I took some treats in, and the mares didn't even bother coming over to hover in the background. They were like "Nuh uh, that George, he crazy, we aren't going near him when there's food around."
We're dealing with some some issues here, that's for sure.
He is not cold; he is not thin. But he is apparently very anxious about starving to death.
The other horses are acting normal - that is, they get enthusiastic when food appears, but they can still can spare as many brain circuits as before to devote to other topics.
George has started trying to stake a claim to all the food buckets when they arrive. He doesn't succeed, but whereas he used to get his nose into his own bucket and stay there, he now runs over to Bridget's as soon as it hits the ground (hers is second in the chain), which causes Bridget to go over to his bucket, and then it's musical buckets for the rest of feeding time.
He looked very cross at me today when I patted his neck while he was eating hay. If you go in to talk to him, he has only one question: "Did you bring me something to eat?" And if the answer is no, he walks away.
Last winter (our first winter with George), we didn't face this issue, as we were in Mississippi, where the weather stays mild most of the time. Although I think maybe we put a rug on him, as this was before I started hearing about how much better it is for horses to regulate their own temperature. Perhaps he'd feel safer if he had a rug.
I think this is all psychological. He is clearly getting enough calories. Cold weather must bring on a fear of hunger for him.
I don't know whether to give him more food. Sometimes, he'll even be worried while there's hay on the ground (still edible, as the horses are eating it). Today I took some treats in, and the mares didn't even bother coming over to hover in the background. They were like "Nuh uh, that George, he crazy, we aren't going near him when there's food around."
We're dealing with some some issues here, that's for sure.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Dream
The other night, I had a dream. I dreamed that a knobby-kneed, reddish brown, small skinny horse came and sat on my lap. The dream was very vivid; I could feel the horse's shaggy coat, and its bony limbs. I can't quite recapture the emotion associated with this dream, but I remember the sensation of its folded-under legs, evoking a feeling of the horse's vulnerability, and a desire to enfold it.
I thought no more about the dream until yesterday morning during mass, when it dawned on me that I had this dream shortly before coming across George lying in the field. And that George was very probably the color of the dream horse when he was a foal, as he is now dapple rose grey and likely had no grey markings on him at birth. I remember as I sat beside him as he lay there, what struck me most was how sweet his legs looked, folded under him, in a way I hardly ever see them.
The dream horse had seemed old in its frailty. But maybe it was a foal who had to grow up too fast and so became old before its time. Maybe it was George.
I wanted to ask George about this dream yesterday, but he was in a bad mood, and I didn't think it was the time. I'll ask him later.
I thought no more about the dream until yesterday morning during mass, when it dawned on me that I had this dream shortly before coming across George lying in the field. And that George was very probably the color of the dream horse when he was a foal, as he is now dapple rose grey and likely had no grey markings on him at birth. I remember as I sat beside him as he lay there, what struck me most was how sweet his legs looked, folded under him, in a way I hardly ever see them.
The dream horse had seemed old in its frailty. But maybe it was a foal who had to grow up too fast and so became old before its time. Maybe it was George.
I wanted to ask George about this dream yesterday, but he was in a bad mood, and I didn't think it was the time. I'll ask him later.
Nature's Raincoats
This morning, as I lay in bed in the dark listening to the rain, I felt sorry for the horses, as they are still out in the pasture which has no shelter. We can't afford to put up another shelter right now, and so I have a choice of putting them in the muddy pasture with shelter, or the dry pasture without one.
When I went out to feed them breakfast, the depth of water in one of the buckets let me know that it had been raining for some time. But I was relieved to find the horses placidly grazing, and as they approached I once more observed how well their coats are designed to keep them warm in the rain.
The hair lies in such a way that the water runs backwards rather than downwards, and their undersides and chests stay dry.
I returned later with a bale of hay, after a couple more hours of heavy rain, and found the horses still staying pretty dry.
I used to put a warm rug on our skinny old mare in the winter, and also on our thoroughbred, who did not keep weight on well. However, I'm hearing (although I still have to fully understand why) that it is better for the horse to regulate its own temperature.
The only times I've seen our horses shivering have been on days when wet snow is falling, which piles up on their backs and then melts down into their coat. Also, although they're staying dry now, if the rain were coming down hard at an angle and there was a chilling wind, I think they might end up getting too cold. So if I plan to sometimes keep them over the winter in the no-shelter field, I might resort to using waterproof sheets.
When I went out to feed them breakfast, the depth of water in one of the buckets let me know that it had been raining for some time. But I was relieved to find the horses placidly grazing, and as they approached I once more observed how well their coats are designed to keep them warm in the rain.
The hair lies in such a way that the water runs backwards rather than downwards, and their undersides and chests stay dry.
 |
| Chloe's raincoat |
 |
| Bridget's raincoat |
 |
| George's raincoat |
 |
| Rose's raincoat |
I returned later with a bale of hay, after a couple more hours of heavy rain, and found the horses still staying pretty dry.
 |
| After another two hours of heavy rain |
The only times I've seen our horses shivering have been on days when wet snow is falling, which piles up on their backs and then melts down into their coat. Also, although they're staying dry now, if the rain were coming down hard at an angle and there was a chilling wind, I think they might end up getting too cold. So if I plan to sometimes keep them over the winter in the no-shelter field, I might resort to using waterproof sheets.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Communication
When I went in to see the horses today, I was expecting a phone call which might call me away; so I didn't want to take George out to graze, only to have to return him a few minutes later.
He badgered me about going out, tugging on my jacket, and nudging me. It was a bit aggressive. So I said, "I don't really want to be with you when you're like this." He walked off in a bit of a huff. Bridget came over, and George shooed her away.
She soon returned, and we played together. She got the hang of pulling my jacket zipper up and down with great gusto.
Eventually, George came over, and Bridget left. George planted himself beside me, somewhat grumpily, as if to say, "Well, ok, I'm still your friend, but I'm not in a good mood." We stood; I scratched him a bit. Finally, he pawed the ground and snatched with his teeth at the paltry bits of grass still growing: "Do you expect me to eat this???"
It was clear and communicative, and reasonably polite, so off I went to get the halter and rope. We got some grazing in before the expected phone call.
In the late afternoon, after I'd fed them dinner, I went back and took George out. Every so often, I asked him to stop and be still for a moment before resuming his eating. At one point, he reached out in frustration and nipped at me. Without thinking I whacked his nose, and was surprised at how almost instantaneously calm returned to me. George was not offended.
I felt a certain clarity about what I was trying to do. During one grazing pause, George pawed the ground. I said, "I know what you want, and you're going to get it, but I want something too, and it's something I want from you." I want him to be able to let go of whatever it is that's bothering him - in this case the desire to eat, which is a great anxiety producer for George. He is very afraid of being denied access to food. I wonder if perhaps he was weaned too early or had to fight for his share of food as a youngster.
George himself has shown me a place of peace and calm. And now I, in turn, need him to trust me and come to that place when I ask him. For another horse, asking them to do things might work better to distract them from their worry and help them center themselves. But with George, I feel we need to turn down the volume on all fronts and bring ourselves back to stillness before moving forward. It's too easy to lose the connection; busyness pulls it apart, whereas quietness re-establishes it.
It was cold, and the mares were careening around the field in response to some obscure commotion on the distant slope of the mountain, and George was distracted. But I felt he was beginning to be more accepting of what I was asking. With George, it's generally three steps forward, two steps back--so I'm not looking for straightforward linear progress. But, with his help, I feel I've identified a way to work together. I don't think he fully understood the real import of what we were working on, but I think he could feel it a little bit.
He wasn't in a great mood today, but we managed to have a conversation nonetheless.
He badgered me about going out, tugging on my jacket, and nudging me. It was a bit aggressive. So I said, "I don't really want to be with you when you're like this." He walked off in a bit of a huff. Bridget came over, and George shooed her away.
She soon returned, and we played together. She got the hang of pulling my jacket zipper up and down with great gusto.
Eventually, George came over, and Bridget left. George planted himself beside me, somewhat grumpily, as if to say, "Well, ok, I'm still your friend, but I'm not in a good mood." We stood; I scratched him a bit. Finally, he pawed the ground and snatched with his teeth at the paltry bits of grass still growing: "Do you expect me to eat this???"
It was clear and communicative, and reasonably polite, so off I went to get the halter and rope. We got some grazing in before the expected phone call.
In the late afternoon, after I'd fed them dinner, I went back and took George out. Every so often, I asked him to stop and be still for a moment before resuming his eating. At one point, he reached out in frustration and nipped at me. Without thinking I whacked his nose, and was surprised at how almost instantaneously calm returned to me. George was not offended.
I felt a certain clarity about what I was trying to do. During one grazing pause, George pawed the ground. I said, "I know what you want, and you're going to get it, but I want something too, and it's something I want from you." I want him to be able to let go of whatever it is that's bothering him - in this case the desire to eat, which is a great anxiety producer for George. He is very afraid of being denied access to food. I wonder if perhaps he was weaned too early or had to fight for his share of food as a youngster.
George himself has shown me a place of peace and calm. And now I, in turn, need him to trust me and come to that place when I ask him. For another horse, asking them to do things might work better to distract them from their worry and help them center themselves. But with George, I feel we need to turn down the volume on all fronts and bring ourselves back to stillness before moving forward. It's too easy to lose the connection; busyness pulls it apart, whereas quietness re-establishes it.
It was cold, and the mares were careening around the field in response to some obscure commotion on the distant slope of the mountain, and George was distracted. But I felt he was beginning to be more accepting of what I was asking. With George, it's generally three steps forward, two steps back--so I'm not looking for straightforward linear progress. But, with his help, I feel I've identified a way to work together. I don't think he fully understood the real import of what we were working on, but I think he could feel it a little bit.
He wasn't in a great mood today, but we managed to have a conversation nonetheless.
Monday, November 1, 2010
An Afternoon's Activities
A new record - George and I hand-grazed for two and a half hours, at which point his grazing didn't stop but became much more desultory.
After I put him back, I went to retrieve Chloe, who had been out with us. George hardly moved from his position by the gate when I attempted to return her to the field. I opened the gate, however, and Chloe (who knows what George is thinking) proceeded to enter confidently. Sure enough George just stood there.
He was nice and let me take Bridget out. When I returned her, he moved aside, but Bridget didn't trust him, and wouldn't go in through the gate. George returned to his troll-under-the-bridge post, and I had to wait several minutes until he decided to get out of the way again. This time, Bridget believed him and went through. George was nice and left us alone to get the halter off.
While I had Bridget out, she trotted along with me several times, doing her pretty Arab trot, tail high, neck arched. I just hold the very end of the lead rope and give her space so she feels unimpeded as she moves along. It's fun. We ran down the driveway together to greet my daughter coming off the school bus.
I'm conscious, when I write about George "letting" me do things, that such a viewpoint is anathema in most circles. I think even KFH would not approve. However, the way I see it, it's not so much that I'm allowing George to control me. It's more a case of just giving him enough time to choose to do the right thing. I'm not willing to be prevented from going through the gate - but I am willing to go through later rather than sooner.
After I put him back, I went to retrieve Chloe, who had been out with us. George hardly moved from his position by the gate when I attempted to return her to the field. I opened the gate, however, and Chloe (who knows what George is thinking) proceeded to enter confidently. Sure enough George just stood there.
He was nice and let me take Bridget out. When I returned her, he moved aside, but Bridget didn't trust him, and wouldn't go in through the gate. George returned to his troll-under-the-bridge post, and I had to wait several minutes until he decided to get out of the way again. This time, Bridget believed him and went through. George was nice and left us alone to get the halter off.
While I had Bridget out, she trotted along with me several times, doing her pretty Arab trot, tail high, neck arched. I just hold the very end of the lead rope and give her space so she feels unimpeded as she moves along. It's fun. We ran down the driveway together to greet my daughter coming off the school bus.
I'm conscious, when I write about George "letting" me do things, that such a viewpoint is anathema in most circles. I think even KFH would not approve. However, the way I see it, it's not so much that I'm allowing George to control me. It's more a case of just giving him enough time to choose to do the right thing. I'm not willing to be prevented from going through the gate - but I am willing to go through later rather than sooner.
 |
| A new way of leading Bridget |
Yet Another First
But a good one this time.
I was outside this morning and looked over to see George lying down in the field.
I was outside this morning and looked over to see George lying down in the field.
I went in and gingerly sat down close to him.
He didn't move so I crept closer until I was sitting by his head.
After a while he stretched out flat and grunted for a few minutes. He lifted his head,
and then stretched out flat again, his eyes closed, before finally getting up. Bridget was standing close by, also in a tranquil mood.
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