My Saturday Night: A Timeline

9 pm - Tired and ready for sleep, i climbed into my cozy bed to read a little before drifting off into a sweet slumber.

9-9:30 - Listened to my (three-almost-four-year-old) nephew run around the house shrieking with delight as he jumped out of dark corners wielding styrofoam swords and running from the bedtime police (adults).

9:40 - No longer tired, i realized i had developed a craving for hot chocolate. Off to the kitchen to seek one of my favorite cold-weather indulgences.

9:45 - Nephew decided to sleep with me. (Had to hide hot chocolate.)

9:47 - Nephew changed his mind.

SometimeAfter10 -  When i no longer heard my nephew i turned on my light and headed over to the computer. I paused to sort through a few pile of papers that caught my eye during the five-foot trek. In the process of sorting one pile i dropped a few things (kinda loud things), decided to forgo anymore organizing and opted, instead, to sit quietly at my desk.

NoIdeaWhatTimeItWasByThisPoint -  Powered up my PC to kill time on Facebook and Twitter read the news while drinking my no-longer-hot chocolate.
Finally feeling the weight of fatigue, i shut everything down and climbed into bed (again).

12:30ish a.m. (officially the next day, by the way) - i heard a dinosaur* outside my window. Though faint at first, by the third time it sounded serious. Tired but unwilling to sacrifice a good night's sleep the well-being of any animals, i threw on a jacket, found the closest pair of boots and grabbed a flashlight.

*(Fact: horses sometimes sound like dinosaurs.)

   
Oren, our Arabian stallion, was sounding an alarm. A horse was loose.  O bolted out of his shelter prance-running (that's what Arabian horses do - often under rainbows whilst angels, playing Ouds and Nayat, sing tributes to their intelligence, nobility and beauty) straight up to me to say, "he's here! back in the woods! right by my shelter! roaming free! get him! GET HIM!"
   
As i rounded the corner of O's shelter, i found a disoriented gelding. Under most circumstances Oren would  have ignored a gelding. However, for some reason completely unbeknownst to me, he was gonna hollar 'til someone came running.
[Quick backstory: This gelding came to live with us when a friend moved out of state. Our friend had recently acquired said horse and didn't know his name. We never gave him one. I call him No-name.]

So no-name-gelding and i made our way back to the area from whence he came but not where he belonged. Since i had the flashlight and didn't fancy getting kicked in the face, i took the lead. He followed me through the first gate and into the paddock adjacent to his field. We were doing good. He was so grateful to me for saving him that he would follow me anywhere.

Then he began grazing -
       as i stood on the frosty ground in my pajamas, a jacket and muck boots.

When the horse stopped following me (a good thirty yards short of our destination) i realized i had run outside without a rope
OR
a bucket of feed
OR
my phone (apparently my brain stayed in bed).
I had no way to catch no-name-gelding. I talked soothingly, showed him where i wanted him to walk, kissed, clucked and whistled. Nothing.

He had found the best tasting grass in the world and he was not moving.

There was nothing else (i was willing) to do, so i said goodnight and left well-enough alone.
Then i came inside
...and wrote about it.
Because nothing says WAKE UP like a brisk, one-hundred yard walk in pj's on a cold October night to quiet a dino-horse so one can (eventually) get enough sleep to fix a fence (correctly) first thing in the morning. 

On Time

I haven't posted here since May. I've wanted to. Several drafts on various topics exist, along with notes typed hurriedly on my phone or scribbled on various scraps of paper. The ideas are there. The desire is there. The time is not.

For me intentions and follow-through exist on different planes...or in different dimensions. Occasionally one will jump through a wormhole and they inexplicably line up. 
I have way too many ideas, over-commit to others, and then run out of time and/or physical endurance. With the alacrity of Superwoman, a desire to help on par with Mother Teresa's and the time management skills of daVinci (very bad, so i'm told) i say, "I'll do it!"...then don't.
Though DaVinci has been labeled a procrastinator, he was always doing something, like "doodling." Here is an example of this "doodling" habit of his.

Perhaps he wasn't as much of a procrastinator as he was just bad at time management. I like to think i share some traits with geniuses, so we'll go with that.

It is important (to me) to distinguish between a procrastinator and a poor manager of time. When "a person" is categorized as the first, she feels like a sloth. And to a large degree, she probably is. (High school me = procrastinator.) When "a person" doesn't organize her time well, it doesn't mean she is lazy. It means she has too much to do. She probably

• is not organized enough (where did that horse go?)
• has trouble prioritizing (should i find that horse or just work with a different one? what about the llamas?) 
• sets unrealistic goals (i'm gonna work 10 horses, shear some llamas, blog, edit 1,000,000 pictures and build a barn - today.) 
• has no one to whom she can delegate work (i'm going to do all of the aforementioned tasks by myself.) 
• does not pay close enough attention to time spent on tasks (what? lunch time already? i'm still having my coffee...which i started drinking at 8.) 
• does not prevent burnout (yes, i have a social life - it's called facebook.) 

Since i don't procrastinate i have no time to do silly things that would improve the content of this post...like drawing a Vitruvian Llama. I did, however, google it.

Turns out someone has that kinda time. So maybe i'm okay at prioritizing (sorta) and delegating (with my mind, like a Jedi), which i'll take as a sign of hope.
Conclusion: i shall start posting in a consistent and timely manner. I'll let you know what that is after i've set some goals - realistic ones, of course.

(Go ahead and check back often.)

PS. A few people have asked about the second part of the post about the llama (or as one person said, "the story about the ostrich"). I decided to save the rest of that story for my book. There are a couple reasons for this.

1. I want to keep some of the more insane incredible material a surprise as a means of enticing people to read said book. 
2. It's not a happy memory.
3. I don't want to end up on PETA's hit list.

Mama Llama, Sickly Drama (Part 1)

We have forty-one horses. They are my kids.

We have five llamas. They are very odd my kids' quirky roommates.

Let me back up a sec. Llamas were not originally part of (what could be misconstrued as) "the plan." They kinda just happened. My mom saw an ad for llamas and convinced my dad to buy a couple, because she had "always wanted" one. But llamas have to have a llama companion or they will get depressed and die. (Yes, that is what is known as a red flag, and we treated it as such. We ignored it.) So my parents set off to buy a couple of llamas and returned with ten. Hang on, let me re-type that...
They returned with TEN.

Since that time, many years ago, we have done close to nothing with our camelids. I mean, we've taken care of the basics - they've had their pictures taken a lot, vaccinations, deworming and are fed well. A few had some babies (cria), so we took lots more pictures played with the little ones and socialized them. Beyond that, we haven't had time to interact with them on a regular basis. Building this farm and tending to the horses has kept us busy. That finally changed last year.

And now i love llamas.

But then one died.

(Like how i skipped a book's worth of info to bring us back to the topic?)
Mama Llama, a.k.a. Big Mama (the matriarch) took a turn for the worse a couple of months ago. None of the vets around here know a darn thing about llamas. Camelid health professionals are hard to come by in this part of the country. We were on our own.

We checked our llama manual and covered the troubleshooting basics. It was unclear if we were helping. She wasn't going downhill, but she didn't appear to be getting better, either. That is, she wasn't putting on weight nor was she her usual, sassy self.

To make matters worse, the other llamas were following her around looking forlorn and confused. Then they would just show up, like apparitions (as is their way), wherever i was working and stare at me (also their way), as if to say,"aren't you going to do something?" It scared the crap outta me made me feel awful.

What could we do that we hadn't already done? I followed all of the the llama manual instructions. When i exhausted that resource i googled every llama and llama-related term i could think of. I read medical abstracts and articles from magazines, checked forums, referenced, cross-referenced  - on and on and on.

I wanted to yell at them, "I'm sorry, llamas, but this is North America! You are a relatively new species here! AND we're in Kentucky - land of equinids!! Curse whoever brought you to our shores; i don't know how to help you!"

But one look at those big, brown eyes silently pleading with me to help their beloved matriarch shut my mouth and strengthened my resolve to help Big Mama.

Little did i know, we were about to take Llama care to the next level...

(Check back in a day or so for Part 2: "Llama Triage and Emergency Field Care," or "Oh Dear, Perhaps I Should Have Just Shot Her.")

Lessons from a Horse Named Joy

Recently we pulled a horse from the back field, where she had been free to run with several other horses for the past few years. There were no rules to follow back in that field, other than those of the herd. She was free to be a horse. A week before she was to go to a new home, we decided it would be good idea for her to get used to hanging out with humans again, brush up on her training, etc.. This young mare was born here and socialized from the start. Our attention had to go elsewhere the past few years, but we figured it would be easy enough to polish her up a bit.

Now is probably a good time to insert that letting a horse run wild, especially a mare, super-especially a dominant mare, is a bad idea. 

Lesson learned. 

One week turned into two as my mom and i took turns working with her, regaining her trust and letting her get to know us again. Then came trailer-loading time, the first for this young mare.

What a nightmare. It was tough.

After two LONG days of coaxing, pulling, pushing, walking, a pulled shoulder (me), a tumble backwards (her), and a bit of yelling (both of us) she finally stepped into that trailer.

Here are a few lessons Joy was so kind to remind of me along the way.

• When you can't find a solution, continue trying until you have exhausted your ideas, your resources and yourself. Take a rest, then use someone else's resources, or just someone else.
• Be quick to notice if something isn't working and switch to a different approach.
• Every interaction means something and affects the relationship.
• Taking a break is not the same as quitting.
• Sometimes breaks are a bad idea.
• Positive reinforcement must be timed just right - otherwise all involved get confused and cranky.
• Body language and attitude communicate more than words. 
• Voice tone matters.
• Always end a lesson on a good note, when some type of progress has been made, no matter how minor or seemingly insignificant. 
• Horses are not above bribery (a good reason to keep food nearby at all times).
• Hang.On.To.The.Rope.
• Good things come to those who work. 
• When all else fails, sedate.

Thanks, Joy, for the refresher course in (common) horse sense. I hope you gained something from the experience, too, and that you load safely and easily for the rest of your sweet equine life. 

The Things We Carry (in our pockets)

You know how you get in a hurry and stick things in your pockets - items like money, keys, cards of various sorts, little pieces of paper, etc.? Sure you do; we all do. Pockets are handy. Once upon a time i would put my i.d. and ATM card in my back pocket for a night of going out (never liked to carry a purse). My cell phone often winds up in my back pocket, as do envelopes, my moleskine notebook, pens, memory cards, lens caps - the list is endless. I am an avid pocket user.

Even now, on the farm, i find myself stashing just about anything in my jeans. This harmless, though not always wise, habit (which i learned from my father) has been taken to an entirely new level in farmville. 

In short, anything goes.

Need a handful of nails, staples, or screws? Pocket 'em. Often i find myself trying to fix or rig something with no one else around. The result - screwdriver in one back pocket, wrench in the other. If it's night, a small flashlight; when i'm out with the horses - hoof pick. (The only tool that doesn't go in a pocket - ever - is my Leatherman. It has a special place on my belt.) Not even feed is exempt. (When socializing horses in the field we stuff our pockets with grain, which is sneakier than carrying a bucket.) 

My dad is the pocket master. I am continually amazed by what he can fit in his pockets AND what he can forget he put there. Commonly stowed items include lag bolts, carter keys, sockets, fence wire, nails and screws. Slightly less common ones include sandpaper, rocks (interesting ones, of course), syringes WITH needles still on them, memory cards for his camera and freshly cut pieces of horse hoof  (um...that last one was actually me...dogs love to chew on horse hoof clippings). If the washing machine is lucky these things get spilled on the floor or set on the bathroom counter at the end of a tiring day. Otherwise, they make it to the laundry room and...well, we're on our third washer in seven years.

4 a.m.

The nice thing about waking up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep on a farm is that it is not, in fact, the middle of the night. It is early morning, and there is a fat ton of work to do.

Today:
-take care of colicky mare (hopefully that shot of Banamine and an overnight stay in a dry lot did the trick).
-check, double check, and triple check all water tanks. (five 100-gallon tanks filled twice a day = 1000 gallons, not including fields with automatic waterers.)
-figure out what the heck i'm doing wrong regarding the polybraid electric fence i just put up (totally befuddled by electrical circuitry).
-extend aforementioned electric fence (i continually forget how quickly one horse wears the ground down).
-fix front gate (it was off one of it's hinges last night. NO idea why. i let it go for the night b/c i get that way, too, sometimes - best just to leave it alone for a bit.)
-continue fence repair/renovation (miles of it).
-learn, once and for all, WHERE to put the period when a sentence ends in parentheses.

I need to finish the majority of these tasks by noon. It's suppose to be 110 degrees...again.
Later, sleepyheads!


PS. the other nice thing about waking up so early - i can waste time on the computer and still be outside by 6 7 :)

Fahrenheit 114

Today was the hottest day of the year, possibly the hottest day of my life.

Having recently recovered from a mild case of heat exhaustion, i opted to stay inside as much as possible. When it's too hot to work outside there is plenty of work to do inside. The bummer is that most of today involved staring at a computer screen.

The thing about working on the computer when the body is accustomed to outdoor manual labor - it messes with a girl's schedule. My brain is tired, but my body doesn't feel like it exerted enough energy to warrant sleep. My eyes wanna bleed; my feet wanna run. And here i am, typing when i should be sleeping.

Five o'clock is going to hurt.

So today, the hottest day of the year, i edited photos, caught up on bookkeeping tasks, made lots of lists, and finally tidied up this little piece of cyberspace that is my blog. It wasn't an especially interesting day - certainly not worth writing about. However, in six months when i have to work in a blizzard-ice storm-tornado-earthquake, i'll read this post and (hopefully) find some consolation in knowing that at least it's not 114 degrees outside...and that i learned to spell Fahrenheit correctly.

Intro to the Past Six Years

The story of our farm (and subject of this blog) begins in August of 2002, when my parents and I purchased 176 acres, previously home to a cattle farm (run down and neglected by the time we found it.) I was twenty-five when my father retired and my parents asked if I wanted to buy a farm with them. We would have a place to keep our seven or eight horses and see about breaking into the horse breeding industry.
I was at an odd juncture in my life. I had a little money to invest but no direction. Still on the mend from injuries incurred when I was eighteen, I wasn’t ready to venture out on my own again (there had been several failed attempts by this time.) So I said, sure – why not, and committed a minimum of five years to the project.

In retrospect, I think my dad and I had something completely different in mind when we bought our lovely, secluded, excessively large plot of land. Something bucolic and quiet, where we could live pleasant, easy lives - a place to be away from the world and mend. Though it has allowed us to heal and blessed us in many ways, there was no easy about it, rather, a whole lot more physical labor and tears than we could have ever imagined. (I vaguely recall my mom warning us about hard work, taking on more than we realized and other words of wisdom that fell on stubborn, deaf ears. I think she used the word, smaller - as in less land. We smiled and nodded as we silenced the voice of reason with promises of adventure, a fresh start and success. My sweet mother, seeing we were bent on pursuing our delusions, allowed us to proceed merrily on our naïve way. She even supported us and jumped on the happy train for a celebratory, albeit short, ride. She is a saint, that woman.)

As anyone who has attempted homesteading (this was the first step in building our horse farm) knows, it requires all of one’s time and energy. ALL of it. When I finally came to terms with this vital piece of knowledge, I killed my social life and committed myself to the endeavor. Then I decided to blog about our colossal task. After a few weeks of no posts, I understood that even blogging was impossible. I did not have any extra energy at the end of a work day.

I did, however, keep a journal, as too many things happened that had to be recorded, even if scrawled messily into a bedside book before passing out. For the sake of clarity and continuity, I will add some of those entries to supplement posts, or maybe as complete posts, depending on how coherent I was at the time I penned them. (For the sake of brevity and self-preservation, I will save some entries for the book this blog is outlining.) I also have quite a collection of photos documenting this adventure. (I learned early on that clipping a small Canon Powershot to my belt was the best way to document moments that would otherwise be lost to fatigue.)

Here is where I end the first official post on this neglected little parcel of cyberspace. Sometimes it takes a while to get around to good ideas, as priorities cut in and shove frivolities to the end of the queue. But perseverance and tenacity are great levelers. Just ask the forty-three horses and ten llamas grazing in their green, fenced in pastures, spotted with shelters and automatic waterers – planned and built by three people who had no idea what they were getting themselves into.