Pregnant Class
We were required to take a class to learn how to be pregnant or give birth or something. All I really got was that I had to be up from six in the morning till after eleven and up again by six the next day, but I got to eat out and they served a beautiful fruit salad.
In the first class we spent the whole three hours giggling over the breathing. It’s a wonder we don’t get kicked out for talking in class, making dirty jokes and cow references. I lived in dread of having to watch the video in the second class. The video was awful; I’ve seen lots of cows do this why should I be forced to watch a person? It seems to get better with each class. They were smart enough not to warn us about the c-section video. I enjoyed it much more than the birthing video. Blood and gore never has bothered me. They showed us huge needles used for epidurals. I giggled (more) thinking of how I have had to give the horses shots since I was a small child. Mom will pass out at the sight of a needle.
Then we got a tour of the rooms. She showed us a bed that cost fifteen thousand dollars. She asked for volunteers to try on the baby monitor. I said no. I am my husbands favorite, non computer, toy though so he volunteered me.
I think I got a good glimpse of what giving birth will be like. There was an audience as I clambered awkwardly on to the bed. My belly was exposed to the public as they wrapped straps around me. The monitor was cool we could hear the heart beat and lots of gurgling. I swear it was just the baby moving.
Then we got a demonstration of why the bed was so expensive. They began ripping covers off to display its guts. While I was still in it covered in straps, by the way, so I could demonstrate the positions. The innocent looking bed had foot braces and stirrups, a large cut out with a built in trash bag underneath for catching a baby if it gets dropped. OK she promised that wasn’t what it was for, but who knows it could be handy for that. An exercise bar. All sorts of strange and scary extras.
What happened to the way it’s done in movies where she get to just lay there? I didn’t sign up for doing squats.
A Horse A Horse My Kingdom For A Quiet Horse.
I managed a ride before it got too hot Friday morning. It was beautiful once we got going.
I decided to ride then headed out to catch a horse. I had halter in hand and even made it to the gate before I looked out to see them in the farthest pen out. I debated for about a minuet then decided I was not walking that far. So I worked in the garden for a while until I looked up to see that they had come closer. When I went to saddle Coyote I thought I would throw my light little dressage saddle up. It looked a little narrow for him and when I went to tighten the cinch it was about a foot short of reaching the other side. I unsaddled got distracted by a bug and finally resaddled in his usual saddle.
Once we get ready though it was nice we rode between fields of corn then down a narrow trail through the corn towering over my head. I told him he could eat the corn knocked over by the deer but not the standing stalks. He told me he only wanted the standing stalks, they just taste better. All was hunky dory until we reached THE PIVOT! He grazed almost right up to it before looking up and spotting it. Horror of horrors he attempted to flee home but was thwarted. We worked back up to it grazing happily until he looked up again, and saw IT.
My obviously over optimistic hopes of riding under the cooling spray to ease the mornings heat were dashed. I settled for him waiting for me to say we could turn then headed home. Head home we did with all haste.
Unfortunately haste means WALK and I do mean that in capitols. Short fat Coyote has a big walk. It is long strided fast and boingy. Spell check hates me, I feel it does not speak horse. Boingy is to a word. I was afraid that my large well stretched stomach was not going to be able to take it. He had no interest in slowing down, I didn’t want to walk and the narrow trail through the corn left no room to work. I clutched my stomach he boinged and we got home fast. I hope this doesn’t mean that my riding time is nearing an end.
My husband had a dream the other night in which I gave birth and the nurse went to hand me the baby. I had all ready leaped from the bed and left to go riding. The nurse handed him the baby and wanted to know if I was coming back. I got the impression that they all stood around with their mouths agape in horror.
If I have to stop riding now that wont be to far from the truth. How long after giving birth will I have to wait to ride again anyway?
If only I had a quiet slow horse. Unfortunately my tastes don’t generally run that direction.
Battle of New Orleans
Unbroke Stud VS. Half Dead Mule Pony
I want this so bad:
http://rockford.craigslist.org/grd/3114129369.html
She appeals to me, the blind eye, the tongue hanging out. I would be willing to drop the seventy five bucks bring her home and spend the next three or four years seeing if I would be willing to put my little girl on her. At least she doesn’t seem to be foundered. If she really drives that could be fun with a little cart. It would just make me happy to feed her.
I would not get my child this:
He is stunning. He is gorgeous. He is an unbroke stud.
A neighbor boy (junior high age) was given this by his grandpa for his first horse. It stands by the road with its matching herd of black cows for company and every time we drive by I admire his incredible beauty. The last time I looked up and saw to my shock and horror that he was fully intact. I have asked the boy about it and he tells me how they can’t get the pony into the corrals and it has tried to kick him when he gets close. Completely untouched it is terrified of them, my interpretation. I am sure the boy is more then a match for the pony in sheer rottenness but I offered any help I could give. Of course a pubescent boy has nothing to learn from a mere girl.
I am astounded by the choices people make in buying first horses for their children. I would like to take the stud pony home, geld him and start from scratch. Maybe in ten years or so he could make an inexperienced kids horse. Mostly I believe that pretty is as pretty does. That mule pony might just be the prettiest pony in the world.
Earth Wind and Fire Part Deux
Guest post, follow up on Earth Wind and Fire by Tammie Ellingson:
It is a God-thing.
A Facial Analysis of Coyote
I am a big fan of Linda Tellington-Jones especially her book Getting in TTouch. In the years that I spent training horses I often compared the horses I saw to her analysis of facial markings. I fully believe and agree that the shape of and markings on a horses head give us great clues to personality and likely behavior.
I thought it would be fun to contemplate my beloved gelding Coyote through her writings. Please excuse the poor quality of the pictures. When ever I try to get a picture they all have to stand on top of me.
The swirls on the forehead are the most basic and easiest part to read. Coyote has two, one above the other the bottom being an inch or two long and both connecting. According to Linda this swirl pattern, two swirls connecting. means an emotional and over reactive horse best handled by an experienced rider. Coyote is all of this plus more, but we will get to that. I have found that I get along with this type of horse but not with horses whose swirls are next to each other. They seem to react worse when upset.
The complications of his swirls are offset though by his nice straight profile on a moderately long head with a good square muzzle. Meaning, uncomplicated, easy going, intelligent, willing and able to learn. Does this mean he is not emotional and over reactive? Not at all, just that he is also dependable. Especially when handled in the understanding manner he requires.
He holds his chin very tightly the lip separated by ridges showing that very complexity of character already made so clear.
I have a hard time judging nostrils but I will go out on a limb and say that his are large and open with the edges well defined. Linda qualifies this as intelligent, fluted at the top being a thinker, cooperative if the rider is fair. They are also wrinkled just above indicating his general disdain for those about him. Sounds good so far.
Keeping in mind that on his right eye he has a tumor making it appear smaller, he has large eyes set wide apart signifying intelligence. On this one I could be prejudiced, but I would credit him with the look of eagles as Linda defines it, proud and distant. They do constantly show white which according to folk lore, but not Linda, means spooky and not trust worthy. He can be spooky.
His ears are well defined and nicely fluted showing intelligence they are wide and set wider at the tips then the base all showing steadiness.
So were we able to discern Coyotes nature and true self by reading his face? Or was this guessing and taking what I already new of him and reading it into what I wanted to see? Does this help me to know how to best approach a strange horse or prejudice me.
I know that Coyote is a bizarre mix of complications and dependability, unpredictable yet steady, intelligent but crazy. Did I chose traits applicable to him and decide that those are the ones he must posses? Or does it work?
We wont even get into nature verses nurture.
Reaping the Harvest
Despite our recent run in with Racoons we are beginning to enjoy the harvest of the garden. The tomatoes are ripening huge and juicy. Lots of peppers are coming on. I picked one tomatillo and added it to the peppers, tomatoes and some freshly dug garlic for a delicious salsa. I could have added one of our onions they are getting big enough but I needed to use up some store bought onion.
We made Shish Kabobs with our first zucchini. It was supposed to be a pumpkin. It came up with the other pumpkin seed I planted in that exact spot. When I got to looking at it, it didn’t look like a pumpkin.
The cilantro has gone wild and the dill will be ready for every thing we can pickle.
Chickenality
We put leg bands on the chickens. Not fancy bands designated for chickens just plain old zip-strips. I was letting one at a time out to graze and needed a way to know who’s turn it was. Now they have bands and names. We have, the very creatively named, Green, Blue and Red.
With a way to know who you are looking at it is amazing how much personality a chicken has. Green is a chicken. No that doesn’t sound right, how about scaredy cat. Very timid and shy she is hard to catch.
Blue is my favorite. She is the first to great you at the gate begging for a grasshopper. She is friendly and inquisitive. Even when running loose she will run up to you and eat out of your fingers. Blue and green are buddies they hang out together now that I am letting them all out of the cage to roam during the days.
Red is a loner. The other two will be off chasing bugs together and Red will be on the other side of the yard. She lacks the herd instinct. Not at all social she has no interest in being fed. I can coax Green in for a grasshopper once in a while but never old Red. Not to say she doesn’t like the other two, they hang out. She just doesn’t need them.
They are even more fun to watch roaming freely about the yard then when caged. Not very surprising. Luckily the dogs don’t seem to be bothering them and they haven’t ventured near the garden yet and so they can continue to enjoy their freedom for now.