Millicent Houdini Slips Through Fences

For about a month now, our most recently acquired spotted saddle horse, Millie, has been disregarding fence boundaries with abandon. I don’t recall when exactly this became a daily affair; these days Millie simply refuses to be contained. If she’s been left pastured with Stella, as usual, one can expect to find her on the lawn, in the orchard, or standing by the gate at any time of day. We have worked out a system for her return, whereby I “lead” her back to the flimsiest portion of the fence—either with a strand of baling twine looped behind her ears, or simply with a hand below her jaw for guidance. When we reach the fence, I dislodge the top wire from its perch atop the highest insulator, pull all the lines down with my foot, and stand (actually wobble) atop them while she crosses into the pasture.

Earlier this week I watched her migrate through the fence. She begins by pressing up alongside an assemblage of three loosely-strung high tensile lines. After easing her head beneath the highest strand, she begins grazing beyond her pasture until—whoops!—one leg at a time casually lifts itself over the intervening wires. Within a couple of minutes, without seeming to move much at all, Millie stands outside the pasture entirely grazing where she pleases.

For a time she kept the grasses well trimmed in the orchard area, but when she took an interest in grape leaves I decided it was time to ban her from there. Now she is “limited” to maybe fifteen acres, although she tends to stay in the front or up near the horses; she avoids roaming the woods by herself. When I feel the need to keep her penned, putting her in with Lucy and Janet (whose fencing is taught and effective); however, I rather like seeing her out front, roaming at will.

Leo's New Life

Leo has graduated from being just one of the herd on our farm to being the darling of the farm at his new home. He has two teenage girls to fawn over him, as well as two adults to tend to his needs. Here he was penned into a dog run at night; there he has his own dog house filled with cedar bedding. (Last winter he shared a cedar-strewn dog crate with two other goats when the boys were situated in the round pen. I’m sure he prefers having a home of his own.)

My concerns about moving Leo away from the herd, especially when he was not pastured with the horses immediately, were assuaged as soon as I heard how well he had been welcomed into his new family. Now he receives individualized attention. When he is in the barn, he has horses examining this small creature. (I hear that on Monday evening they wondered among themselves, “Who’s going to ride him?” Perhaps the Chihuahua?) Evenings he follows Jeff around the yard like a dog. Afternoons his presence is requested at girls’ soccer games.

Everybody loves Leo and Leo enjoys being the center of attention. Something tells me that he does not miss his friends from the farm. Heck, he may as well live in a bed of roses and clover. Enjoy your new life, Leo!

Thumbelina Drives Dangerously

Goats are curious creatures who love to jump and climb to high places. Our herd gravitates to woodpiles and to our little Trail Wagon utility vehicle (which we call “the green machine”). For the most part, having goats on the green machine is uneventful, even cute; although I can no longer place food in the bed and expect it to remain out of goat reach. So far placing food on the cab’s roof remains beyond them. I hope that lasts, for having the tall shelf is convenient for me.

Little Thumbelina has taken to hopping into the green machine when I drive, going along for short rides around the barn area. For my part, I have gotten lazy and will hop off of the machine—leaving it running and in gear, but standing in place—to perform quick tasks such as opening a gate or picking up a feed bucket. Recently I hopped out to close a gate leaving Thumbelina in the passenger’s side, and while the brake was set the machine was still in gear. Before I had finished at the gate, I heard a crash of metal on metal.

Miss Thumbelina had taken it upon herself to jump onto the gas pedal while my back was turned, effectively launching the machine on a trajectory that ended with the vehicle’s grille meshed with the chain links of the henhouse door. If her aim was to remind me to take the machine out of gear, or even to shut it off when I step away, well, she succeeded. Untangling the mess she left for me took several minutes and some assistance, but eventually all was set to rights again.

While Thumbelina may still ride with me, I do take precautions against her enthusiasm for driving away unsupervised.

Leo Moves On

We’ve made some fine friends here in Middle Tennessee. One of the best is Jeff, the man who supplies hay for us, who built the perimeter fencing, who is currently framing the workshop, and who—I hope—will soon be working on fencing again. The epitome of honesty and ethical workmanship, he’s a treasured asset to us. Generous with his time and knowledge, he has helped us with dozens of farm-related questions and is our first source for anything equine—for he is a fine horseman.

When we were chatting this morning, he mentioned how his horses had grazed down a new pasture he had fenced recently and related how one enthusiastic grazer had sustained an injury when part of a bramble bush poked him in the eye. He described cleaning out the pus-filled wound and I was impressed that the horse would stand for his ministrations. “You need a goat,” I told him, for a goat would browse down those brambles until they were no longer a threat to the horses.

Asked if we had a goat to sell, I volunteered Leo. Although we are still building our herd and have not had any goats for sale as of yet, Jeff and his family are special. They warranted this exception. Besides, Leo is a wether—he does not contribute to herd expansion. Filled with personality and not shy about self-expression, Leo had insinuated himself into Lucy’s stall—between the horse and her feed tub—when they were pastured together last winter. He would not have trouble ranging with horses. Plus, he’s used to being tied out, so he could be staked beside the brambles to encourage him to work that area.

That evening as Jeff was leaving the jobsite, I rounded up Leo and passed him into the truck’s cab. He’s a fine specimen—a two-year-old deer-colored, blue-eyed Nigerian Dwarf goat—and I felt a pang of regret as I sent him off. Now the farm is down to twenty-one goats again

Stronghorse Church, Barefoot Farrier

Today the horses finally received hoof care. As with every venture here on the farm, finding the right person and making the arrangements took far longer than necessary. Perhaps it’s because we have so many different projects going that items slip my mind with regularity. Perhaps I’m just a neglectful scatterbrain. (I would prefer to believe the former, of course.) As with so many items on this farm, we found our farrier through Craigslist Nashville. Once again we are very happy with the result.

His first name is Orion. Orion Stronghorse Church—what a wonderful name! And so fitting for a farrier. When asked about the origins of his name, he volunteered that he’s half-Sioux, and agreed his would be an unusual name for a Caucasian male. His Native roots show in his thick black hair, his skin tone, and his sturdy build. He works well with the horses and prefers to see them on a loose lead than on the more restrictive crossties with which I was accustomed (some thirty years ago).

When he first unpacked the tools of his trade, I was struck by the jack. Being unusually good, I resisted the urge to make a wisecrack about jacking up the horse (as one would a car) to make the work easier. But, indeed, that is practically what Orion does. I’m used to seeing farriers balance hooves on their own thighs and knees. Orion saves his back by using the jack—such a clever device!

He started with Millie. Although she had been shod when she arrived, she had managed to throw all but one of her shoes and the remaining one was on its way out. Orion pulled it quickly, then showed me how terribly overgrown her hooves were. Also, he showed me lines, almost ripples, around the outside of her hooves denoting a flirtation with foundering. (The appropriate word escapes me, just now.) We discussed possible causes: too rich diet? No. Undue stress? Not likely. Toxicity from American Black Walnuts? Absolutely. Indeed not three posts down from where Millie likes to slip through the fence, the fencepost is a Black Walnut tree. Apparently just walking through the ground around the tree is bad for Millie. This gives me one more reason to expedite the front fencing; however, it was Lucy’s grazing down front that Doc Kinslow identified as instigating that mare’s buttercup allergies—and Millie is beginning to show the same signs of scabby bumps followed by hair loss in tufts. This presents a conundrum I’ll need to confront shortly.

Next came Sweet Stella. Her hooves had not grown out so much; Orion asked if she runs about the rock-lined pasture much. She does not. Neither does she get ridden any more than Millie. Whatever the reason, her hooves were trimmed up and rounded off quickly. Orion noted a soreness in a hing leg, one that had escaped my notice. We’ll keep an eye on that.

Although we had been working beneath the shade of a tree on the flat of the stone driveway (okay, Orion had been working, I’d just been standing holding a lead rope), I was not eager to try bringing Lucy out of the pasture. Indeed since the day I finally coaxed Lucy and Janet into their pasture, they have not been out. Should I be spending more time schooling the filly? Absolutely. Time seems to be a scarce commodity around here. Luckily for me, Orion did not mind moving into Lucy’s pasture, even though the slope was greater. He was able to work on her feet while little Janet orbited around her mother.

When it came time to attend to Miss Janet’s diminutive hooves, she was a bit skittish at first but got over it quickly. She is really a very gentle filly and she radiates calm—when she is not excited about seeing someone or perhaps dinner coming, then she whinnies a high-pitched whinny. It’s very cute. And you know I’m not biased. ;-)

We set up an appointment for the four-week schedule Orion employs. Sadly, he’ll be moving an hour farther away in short order for school. If he can garner local customers enough to make the drive worthwhile, we will continue to see him. Otherwise we will need to find a new farrier.

For now, all of our gals’ hooves are trimmed and they’re looking fine.