Door to Door

The time has come when yours truly needs to start earning some money for real. So yesterday, I screwed up my courage, got into the car with my box of hoof-trimming business cards, and set off to introduce myself to my horsey neighbours.

I was nervous, not normally being the type to go round selling myself, but also a little excited at the prospect of meeting the inhabitants of houses which I scrutinize with curiosity every time I drive past.

The afternoon turned out to be really fun. I was gone for three hours but only stopped at six houses. At three, no one was home (too bad, I really wanted to meet the occupant of that cool log house) and so I just left cards in the door. But the other three houses were welcoming and chatty.

The first house, just along our road, belongs to a young couple with two little children and a very friendly chocolate lab. The husband has a horse-training business, and we exchanged cards. He does his own trimming but is often too busy to keep on top of it, so he might give me a call. He has two of his own horses, as well as two in for training - well, one horse and a mule, which I was excited about, as on the basis of no experience whatsoever, I really love mules. He said this was his first mule experience and he was enjoying it, as mules are "thinkers." Apparently a lot of trainers don't like mules, probably for that very reason, and he's hoping that he might get a name for himself as someone who is good with mules.

At the next house, I saw a yard containing a black horse, a donkey, a calf, two sheep, and an older gentleman leaning on the fence. I pulled in the driveway, climbed out, and introduced myself. We stood for a long time chatting, as he told me the story of the mare and all the other four-legged inhabitants of his barn. The mare he'd set his eye on when he saw her as a not-yet two-year old, carrying a young child safely on a trail ride, and boldly walking up to within a few feet of a caged black bear (which apparently resides up the lane. Crikey who knew?) He had coonhounds in a run out back and told me tales of treeing bobcats up on the mountain.

The mare had not had her feet trimmed in five years, but her hoofs - although definitely on the long side - looked tight and shapely. The calf and the donkey hovered in her shadow, and she fussed over them maternally, touching them with her nose, or scolding them if they stepped out of line. The three of them came over to the fence, and the mare greeted me kindly.

The next house turned out to be the home of a client of my trimming friend, who trims one of their horses and gives riding lessons to the oldest daughter. I spent a long time at this house, as we found lots to talk about, and I had to meet the bantams, the peacock (magnificent in full plumage), all six horses and, of course, the dog.

The horse whom my friend trims is a little Arab mare belonging to the daughter. As she is ridden regularly, they splurge on the extra cost of a balanced barefoot trim, $25 dollars more than the farrier charges for the pasture trim he does on the other five horses. Only trouble is, the pasture trim isn't working out all that well. They have a large draft cross gelding with severely contracted heels and an accompanying deep cleft between the heel bulbs, prone to fungus and thrush. On being questioned about this cleft, apparently the farrier said, "All horses are like that." Only they're not. I charge only a little less than my more-experienced friend, and it feels weird to ask for so much more than the farrier - but the farrier's trim takes 15 minutes and thinks contracted heels are normal, whereas a balanced trim can easily take an hour to perform (unless your name happens to be Gene Ovnicek or something). I'm thinking I might offer a within-radius discount for locations ten minutes or less from my house. Which is assuming anyone wants me to come!

One thing which I took away from my afternoon's adventures was a realization that I'd better be careful to not become holier-than-thou about the Spilkered approach I have with horses. The horse owners I met are people of skill, experience, thoughtfulness, and kindness. Perhaps they could be categorized as "natural horsemanship" owners, but their understanding of horses clearly is wider than the confines of one method or school. The young trainer enjoys the challenge of working with his thinking mule; the old farmer has a little peaceable kingdom in his yard; the last family have three superannuated horses which they take care of out of loyalty and compassion, and their riding horses came crowding round to socialize with the humans.

Driving only a couple of miles brought me into contact with a much larger world.

First Day of Spring

Phew. We are finally back to what I would call normal. Winter just doesn't seem normal. It has its good points, and no doubt it is doubly gratifying to enjoy warmer weather after months of cold, but really, it just ain't the way it spozed to be.

Today I went out to spend some time in the pasture. First I doled out treats. I brought some ripe banana out, as this is the favorite treat of Katariina's interesting horse, Little Love, and I thought I'd give it a try. Another friend gives mushy banana peels as a treat, but I left those behind in the compost bin. Only Chloe appreciated the banana, but there was apple for the others. George came over as of old and wanted me to scratch him for a prolonged period of time. He even enjoyed having his infamous right side scratched.

When he was done, Bridget came over and spent a long time hanging out with me. Here she is resting her chin on my head while I hold up one of her forelegs.

The wild chives are growing up faster than the grass, and Bridget's breath always smells of onion.

Bridget likes having her head scratched.

I lay down on the ground for a while, and she amused herself chewing on my boots and lifting my leg into the air by grabbing hold of my trouser leg.

It was time to stand up when she decided to put a foot on top of me. She tried the lift-June's-leg-in-the-air trick while I was standing, but that wasn't such a universally agreeable game as the lying-down version.

Chloe came over for a little while. I stood close to Rose, and a couple of times she indicated (I think) that she would like me to scratch a particular place, but she had no desire to socialize other than that.

Then it was time to come in for tea.

Running with Rose

At mealtimes, we often have a live demonstration of the song, "There Were Ten in the Bed." Only in this case, it's not the Little One who says, "Move over" - it's George. The one who falls out has to circle around and go to George's food.

This morning, George moved over to Bridget's dish, Bridget moved over to Rose's dish, and Rose was heading over to Chloe's. But I thought it would be better for Chloe to stay with her pony-sized portion and for  Rose to take over George's. So I stood in front of Rose and said, "Hey, Rose, shall we go over to George's food?"

I looked at Rose, she looked at me, and I said, "Come on!" I started running, and she started running, and we ran over to where George's breakfast sat vacant.

Rose and I don't have as much of a connection as I feel with the others, and so it was good to feel that spark between us.

Not What We're Aiming For

Poster on the feed store door:

p.s. I'm sure he's a lovely man and that his horses are very happy.

A Difference

When a stranger comes to the house, our dogs come barking to the door. They then approach the visitor cautiously, sniffing a lot. Eventually, if the visitor stays, they will start to make mild overtures of friendship.

My brother was here visiting last week, and our dogs had never met him before. When I brought him home and we came into the kitchen, the dogs came barreling down the stairs and, without any sniffing or preliminaries, hurled themselves at him,  going "Hello! Hello! Hooray! You're here! How great!"

I've heard it said that dogs recognize family members, whether from their scent or the way they behave or are treated, and I have experienced the phenomenon before. Heretofore unacquainted relatives arrive at the house, and the dogs are instantly comfortable with them. When my father came to stay with us years ago in our second-floor apartment, he arrived by taxi. On hearing the doorbell ring, I went downstairs to open the street door and let him in. Our dog, who had met him once a few years before, hurled herself down the stairs ahead of me in a state of great excitement and happiness. How did she know? What did she sense?

Now the horses .... I took said brother out to the field to see them. They were about 25 yards off when we arrived at the fence. They looked over at us and appeared to say something like, "Who is that strange man over there with June? He might be involved in the veterinary profession. He might possibly be a criminal. We'd better just stay over here." My brother decided we shouldn't bother them.

Just another example of the difference between species.

Sharing Knowledge?

George must have told Chloe that he taught me about the "Let's run" face yesterday.

Today I was up in the pasture, putting out the evening hay ration. Now, although Rose and Bridget allow Chloe to eat with them, sometimes she likes to have a flake all to herself, so when I saw her standing off a little bit, I thought she wanted me to bring her a private portion.

I walked over with the flake of hay, but when I reached Chloe, there it was -- the "Let's run" face. I started running, and sure enough, Chloe took off beside me.

When I stopped, I was going to put the hay down, because I thought perhaps one reason Chloe wanted to run was to quick put some distance between herself (and her hay) and the other big horses. But no, she didn't want me to put her hay down in that spot, and she lead me back to the main pile of hay before deciding to take a bite.

All day today, whenever I was outside, I would catch Chloe in the distance, staring rather longingly towards me. Naturally I thought she was hoping I would come and let her out for a spot of lawn grazing. But perhaps not - perhaps she was waiting for a chance to test whether I really did know what the "Let's run" face means. I wonder.

The Gate Thing

This business of getting the mares in and out of the gate, past the George, has been very good for all of us, I think.

It has been good for me, because it has given me a lot of confidence in George, and has shown me that patience and trust will be rewarded.

It has been good for the mares and me, as we have learned to pay attention to each other and trust each other during the delicate maneuver of running the George gauntlet.

And it has been very good for George, because he is able to be magnanimous and has learned he can cooperate freely.

Today as I was bringing Bridget back into the field, George barred the way for a long time, generally letting it be known that he would like to come out again. But he was very amiable about it, and I felt quite intimate with him as we stood together in the gap of the gate.

The first time he moved aside, Bridget was reluctant to take the plunge and enter. But Rose saw a chance to go out the gate and was heading toward the space which George had vacated. George, quick as lightning, shot over and ran her off, which was rather helpful of him - although if I had shooed her away, personally I wouldn't have bitten her butt.

Then George stood aside again, and Bridget entered, not without trepidation. George stood perfectly still and let me take Bridget's halter off. I think the mares are a little behind the curve here and that George has advanced further than they yet give him credit for.

Afterwards I gave George a big hug and made a fuss of him, and I think he's beginning to enjoy a little bit of this kind of demonstrativeness, and I think he knows I appreciate him. Anyway I hope so.

Afterwards he followed me along the fence line, wanting to stay in touch. Today felt like spring in more ways than one.