Category Archives: horses

digging it up

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This is Dancer, our gorgeous girl. She’s a 3yr old anglo arab x warmblood, but she’s almost entirely arab to my eye. She’s not that big, if she cracks 15hh we’ll be happy. But she’s the sweetest, prettiest thing. So gentle and loving and trusting. And she moves like a dream.

I’ve organised a lady who comes highly recommended and who’s a great rider to come work with Ben to get him going for me. Hopefully she’ll work on me as well to get me going for Ben!

When I feel confident with Ben I think we’ll get her to start with Dancer. She’s not had any work so far other than the work Wayne put in to get her trusting us and giving us her feet. He’ll start ground work with her soon (at least that’s the plan) so she’ll be ready to start.

If it goes well, I figure this winter Wayne and I will be riding on our tracks! Finally!

Meanwhile, today I finally got off my butt and got motivated to do some work.

I started by clearing out one corner of our metal garden shed. When we first moved in it was meant to be the gardening shed, plus storage since its nice and dry. Over the last 2 years things have spread and it got messy.

I got in there today and made a pile of stuff to go to the tip, organised storage stuff on one end, camping gear in a corner, fishing rods hung on the back wall, gardening tools and equipment one one side. The ride on will park in the middle of that side.

Its clean. Its tidy. And I have room to put my ‘projects to do’ and to store large finished pieces waiting for a home.

I went down to the casita and climbed over the broken fence (which Wally broke last winter rushing the gate to get into the corral) to retrieve one of the 3 old metal lockers we inherited out on the porch.

I managed to drag one into the casita where I dumped it. I’ll ask the boys to bring it up to the metal shed for me later. I figure the lockers will act as storage as well as a space divider.

Then, since I was on a roll, I decided to tackle the oily bog in the garden bed.

I doubt you’ll remember this fiasco, but  not long after we moved in I decided that the small ‘garden bed’ near the small timber shed and carport would make the perfect spot for my hydrangeas. I’ve always loved hydrangeas and really wanted a spot to grow my own.

So I dug out the pebbles, found weed barrier, pulled that up and started digging holes. Put in the first two hydrangeas ok. Then I hit oil.

Sump oil.

Seems the last owner of this place used that spot to tip out the oil when servicing his cars.

What kind of person does that????

Sigh.

Needless to say, I did what I could. I dug and dug and carted and dug some more. I got sick of the smell of oil. So I did what anyone in my place would do. I put it in the too hard basket.

I put three hydrangeas in the not affected areas and left a hole to deal with ‘later’.

Today ‘later’ finally came around. I started again. Pulling up oil soaked weed barrier and digging, carting and digging more.

I’m a weakling. I can only do a job like that for a short time before my arms fall off. So I called the boys. Wayne and Chris (who’s visiting). Chris is too polite to refuse to do me a favour so I got them to dig the soil looked normal. I have a nice big hole now. Tomorrow I’ll take the trailer down and buy some topsoil to fill it and I’ll finally be able to put in the last hydrangea.

Talk about having a quiet day!

z


i love the sound of munching horses

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I sit here, at the outdoor table, in our yard. Surrounded by horses munching on the grass and dogs under the table, hiding from the horses.

Its a glorious day.

Wayne trimmed hooves today cause our farrier is out of action for a while. I held horses. Dancer, who had never had her feet done before we got her, was the best. Wally was like a bucking bronco with his back legs. Ben was just naughty with his front.

After that, neither of us felt like doing much but sitting in the sun and just enjoying. Listening to old 60s British pop bands, including Herman’s Hermits.

For some reason I woke up this morning with “No milk today” on my mind. Love that song.

So here are a few photos of the broncs enjoying the grass.

Ben, below, has started to fill out and put on weight. He’s looking good.


 I love Ben’s stripe and the way one of his eyes has a spot of white on the lid and some white eyelashes.

Ben and Wally, best buds.



 Dancer, also filling out, outside the woodshed.

Dancer eating around the pom pom bush and the columbines.

A close up of the columbine buds. Obviously the ones in here are purple. I wonder where I put the white ones…

Dancer and Wally. See the difference in colour? Dancer is going lighter and lighter as she loses her old coat.

The family… you can just see Mishca and Barney under the table. They stay out of the way when the horses are in the yard.

Wally, in front of the house.

So now you know why I’ll never have a nice yard. Horses and nice yards don’t go hand in hand. I think I prefer relaxing weekends with horses in the yard to a perfect garden.

z

day 9 – so much work, so little to show for it

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 It was a gorgeous day. We planned to get home early to feed the animals and relax a while. Didn’t happen.
I had a toothache/headache so I had to go to the dentist after work. 
Result: its not the new filling. It may not even be the tooth.
Am I stressed?
Isn’t everyone?

No, am I especially stressed right now?

Um. No… Yes.
We put tenants in my house in Fentonbury cause selling wasn’t happening. We thought it’d take a load off.
Since the new tenants have moved in we’ve had:
– the chimney top was blown off in strong winds. Twice. Get someone to go fix it. Mortar it in. Glue, sticky tape, whatever works.
– the cooktop wasn’t working properly. I had to buy a new one, in an uncommon size, so I had to order it in which took 4 weeks
– the electrician went up, looked, said it didn’t fit and left
– problems with overflow pipes, the plumber looked and went on a trip for 4 weeks and will fix it when he gets back
– get the septic emptied cause it was full
– the hot water pipe broke, plumber is away so I had to find an alternative plumber
– the hand held shower I bought to replace the one the previous tenants broke doesn’t fit… buy a spout for the bathtub instead
So, do you think I’m stressed? Clenching my jaw at night maybe?
Go back to wearing the mouthguard at night – see if it helps.
Back home, luckily it was still sunny. Thank dog for daylight saving. I helped feed animals, rug horses and then I got stuck into working website work. For hours.
So much for my creativite endeavours!
Here’s Rodney with three of his girls.
And here’s the old doghouse the ducks use as a nesting box.
 
There are 9 ducks, no idea where the others are right now. Probably sitting on eggs.
On the weekend Wayne put in a new fence and gate leading up to the back of our property cause the horses escaped. Here he is checking it.
 And here is Ben munching on grass while Dancer rests.
I’m loving daylight savings. It means that I get home and its not too cold to go out and spend some time with my boy. He’s finally beginning to fill out and he sure is a big boy. He’s 4 years old now and I think he’s still growing!
To recap –
Things I did:
Bonded with my horse, fed the dogs, cuddled poodles, hung out a load of washing, added a few more things to my to do list.
Things I didn’t do:
Almost everything else on the list.
z

where’s dinner and do you have regrets?

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Where’s dinner?
Do you ever regret throwing something(s) way? It isn’t something I think of often, but lately something I read reminded me of stuff I threw out many years ago which I now feel a bit bad about.
Not the photos of a particular ex-boyfriend…  I can live without that memory.
No, I don’t regret that. But there are some small things that I do regret throwing out.
You know how, when you’re in love and everything seems like it’ll last forever, this is the man of your dreams, the white picket fence looms in the future and your rose tinted glasses haven’t yet come off and been crushed underfoot? At that point in a relationship you think you want to erase all the previous loves of your life and begin anew. Wipe the slate clean so to speak.
So you throw away all those old love letters you cherished for years. The ones from your first boyfriend who you thought was SO romantic (till you realised that most of his letters were simply lyrics from his favourite songs). Or the great passionate summer romance you had where the guy could only speak french and italian and who’s letters you had to read with the assistance of a dictionary or a friend who spoke italian.
And the gifts. You decide you can live without that little heart charm given to you by the man you believed would be your life partner. Or the sweatshirt a two-timing louse gave you from Disneyland, telling you that he wore it while visiting there and felt like you had your arms around him. 
Uhuh.
You toss these things out, without a thought, without regrets. You give away the charm or drop clothing into the brotherhood bin.
(Now you kick yourself for not selling the stuff and making a quick buck out of it, but you never worked that way.)
No. The stuff I regret throwing away were things given to me by people (men) who I wasn’t actually involved with – thus somehow the stuff they gave me was more genuine. Untainted. And I still threw it away.
One of those things was a painting. A watercolour given to me by a french boy I met when I was in Paris on a school trip at age 16. We sat up all night, in the hostel kitchen where he worked while attending art school, drinking hot chocolate out of huge bowls, and talking – Paris by night outside the window… Then he snuck me out to see his place (a tiny loft) where he didn’t try to seduce me or take advantage of me, but instead gave me a drawing to remember him by and asked for a page from my visual diary to remember me by.
It was so innocent. So exciting! Doesn’t every girl dream of a romantic night in Paris?
Hello? Do you have my dinner?
The other thing was a poem, written to me by a guy I thought was a friend. Who it seems had more feelings for me than I was aware. It was a beautiful, sensitive poem, asking me to give him a chance, to stay in Greece and not return to Australia.
When I thought I was in love with Mr Right, I threw these things out along with old photos and old love letters.
Why would I throw away a painting? Or a poem? They’re art, someone’s hard work and talent.
Yet I did. 
I’ve also thrown away, given away, or sold (not so often) things I’ve grown out of or no longer need. Those items I don’t regret… in general.
I do regret not holding on to my mother’s old clothes however, even after they no longer fitted me. They were beautiful 1960s outfits, mohair twin sets and tweed pedal pushers. Nice.
Well… we can’t keep everything. We have to move on and make space in our home, our lives and our hearts.
And a clean out of the old is good for the soul, right?
Plus, there’s the added advantage that by getting rid of old stuff, you make room for MORE stuff.
Yeah. I like that.
Lets not look at it as throwing things away, but rather as making room for new (old) stuff!
Like these 7in long nails I found at an op shop last week. How wonderful are they? I can already see them as part of a project….
z

he’s broken

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Yes, the photo is of Ben being ridden. He really is gorgeous when under saddle.

But its not Ben that’s broken.

Its Wayne.

Long story: A friend of ours has a fearless, young, fit, lightweight son with supple bones. He volunteered to get on Ben for the first time. So we did what every self respecting unbroken horse owner would do: we jumped at the chance.

So on Sunday the family came over, we pulled poor Ben out of the paddock where he had done nothing more strenuous than let us rug him and give him carrots for months, slapped a saddle on his back, did a token lunge and Christian jumped on.

Really, Ben did extremely well. He basically stood still and snorted. He refused to move. When he did he did a series of small pigroots and dumped Christian on his butt. Christian, being young, fearless, fit and supple boned, got right back on and stayed on. Ben really did take it very well. He did try to get away a couple of times, but by the end of an hour’s work he was walking more or less in a controlled manner.

Great huh? So how did Wayne end up broken?

Well… this morning I was relaxing, having my coffee while Wayne went out to feed horses and chickens. Or so I thought. When I went out I found Wayne on Ben while Ben stood stock still in the middle of the paddock. He was back to his ‘I don’t know if I can move with someone on my back’ routine.

I offered to help by leading him around a bit and went into the paddock. As I reached down to pick up a carrot, under Wayne’s instructions, I heard Wayne urge Ben to move forward… which he did. Adding a few stiff legged pigroots and a few quick spins in for good measure. It was the spins that did Wayne in.

He went flying off, landing in a heap in the mud. Apparently his second dump for the morning. To give him credit, he cowboyed up and got back in the saddle even though he was in great pain.

He’s alive. I took him to the doctor under protest and he’s having xrays done but I’m pretty sure he’s pulled muscles and bruised his ego badly. He was most upset that the doctor wrote ‘fell off a horse’ on his xray request.

“Fell off! How humiliating! Not thrown or tossed off, but fell off!” he grumbled.

Poor Wayne. I’ve tucked him into his recliner, dosed him up on painkillers and cups of hot tea with instructions not to do anything at all. But he’s a man. He insisted he come out and rug his own horse. I had to chase him away with a stick. I swear. Men!

I suspect he may actually have a broken rib or three. I’ve been there before and I know how painful that is. Many years ago when I used to ride regularly I came off a horse at full gallop. The horse I was on skipped to the side suddenly over a fallen branch and I lost my balance. I’d have been ok if I hadn’t been so cocky and just let go at that point.

“I couldn’t possibly fall off. I hadn’t fallen off a horse in ages! I was a good rider. I could get back into the saddle, no problem!”

I was hanging there, in full stunt rider mode, slung underneath the horse’s stomach thinking “I can get back up from here” when the horse’s back legs came up and clocked me in the ribs.

At that point I did let go.

I lay there gasping for breath for a while. When I tried to move I could hear clicking and crunching inside my chest which hadn’t been there before. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a good sign.

But, as you know, you have to get back in the saddle after a fall. People hovered over me and I was saying “I’m ok, I’ll get back on and ride back if I can just catch my breath!”

I never did. They had to send someone back to get the 4×4 (we’d been riding in pretty rough country) while someone stayed with me, sitting back to back so I could sit up and breath.

About 8 hours later, at the closest hospital, I found out I had five broken ribs and a punctured lung.

I don’t do things by halves.

Unlike Wayne. He likes to do things in small doses. A kick here, a stomp there, a push and fall there… If you’re gonna do it, I say, do it good. Eight days in hospital and 2 months off work. That’ll learn ya!

Strangely, I am still eager to get on Ben. I was willing to get on him today but Wayne wouldn’t let me. Probably for the best, though. Knowing my propensity for doing it ‘good’. We can’t afford both of us off sick at once.

z

Sniff butt

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Dancer, in the front yard.

Check that out Ben! Its a girl!

 

She sure is pretty Wally. She smells nice…



 

You boys can sniff my butt!
 

EWWWW. Girl butt!

Dancer is coming along nicely. She’s learning to trust us, particularly Wayne cause he works with her the most. He’s been working on her giving her feet so that we can trim her hooves, she’s coming to us when we arrive home from work and seems to enjoy our company, pats and carrots.

She’s filling out too. Her butt has a nice roundness to it that it lacked before. She’s still skittish about some things, but she is coming along. For instance, when we got her you could never be sure if she was going to kick, but now she’ll come up and back up to you to have her butt scratched. And she was really reluctant to let anyone touch her head. We’ve been working on that and most of the time now she’ll let you touch her head and run your fingers through her forelock even though she still doesn’t like it much.


With Christmas coming up and all the stuff that seem to happen around this time of year, its been hard to find the time to work with the horses. All last week we had meetings, training and dinners after work, so every night was a late one. Hopefully next week will be a bit easier as we only have one meeting and then we have a 3 week break for summer holidays.



I am so looking forward to my holiday! Not that I see myself really relaxing… I have a To Do list a mile long! Things I’d like to get done while i have a few days at home.

Like finish the brushcutting I started last weekend. About 4 hours of it. I tackled the deep grass and weeds growing around the dam and the pussy willow stems I stuck in the ground around there. I put in about 9 pussy willow stems. I think 6 have made it. There may be more… I have to finish the job and find them in the weeds.

Once that’s done I have to tackle the other side of the fence, around the water tanks. Another 4-5 hours… 

Then, about 3 weeks later, repeat above steps.

I also have plants to put in the ground (over 20) and seedlings to separate and pot up…
Those are just the outside jobs! It never ends. I wonder what on earth possessed us to buy a farm? One and a quarter acres was more than enough outside work for me… Don’t they say be careful what you wish for, you might get it? I always wished to live on a farm and Ta Da! Here I am!


I do love it, though, so I can’t complain. I just wish that I had more time to enjoy it. More time to spend doing things at home, on the farm. More money to do them with. Less need to work.


A lotto win would come in handy right now! Failing that, selling my house in Fentonbury would help a hell of a lot. 

So people out there looking for a beautiful, comfy house, in a gorgeous landscape, for a country life, look no further. I have the house for you!

Till then, I work at work, I work at home, I work in the garden, I groom dogs, I paint. The time I have left over I play with poodles and horses and enjoy the view.

z


Thistle breath does it again

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We’ve had a pretty action-packed week. It all started when I went to water the vegie patch and found the taps were dry.

Now, let me explain. We’re on rainwater here, but we’re lucky enough (or unlucky enough, depending on which way you look at it) to be sitting on top of an underground spring. Our dam is spring fed so it never runs dry, we have a bore to pump water into a tank for watering stock and plants, and our lawn never entirely dries out cause the spring seems to run directly underneath it.

So, when the bore water tank turned out to be dry my first thought was that Wayne had forgotten to fill it up on the weekend (long story… among all the pump/water challenges we’ve had, the bore water tank stop valve was malfunctioning so we decided to over-ride it and fill the tank by turning it on manually).

Anyway… naturally, being the caring sharing partner that I am, I instantly lay the blame on Wayne. Of course he swore he had filled the tank the day before. So where did all the water go?

He suggested it was Wally’s fault. Ever since we got Dancer and put her in the paddock opposite, the boys have started to hang around near the water trough like any teenage boys hanging out on a corner trying to look cool. Other than staring longingly at the new girl, there’s not much to do over there. They munch a bit of grass, they gnaw on some old bits of wood, posture trying to look tough, and they play with the float in the water trough.

I scoffed. No way could Wally’s bouncing the float cause the entire tank to run dry!

So we filled it again and sure enough, next day it was dry again.

Grrrr.

We filled it again, turned the tank tap off and checked next day. Yep, still full.

Ok. Time to get down to business.

Wayne got into CSI mode and went out to look at the tank. The float had taken a bashing but was still working. However, as he investigated things started to look bad. Very bad.

Somehow (and I blame Wally, Ben is entirely innocent) the horses had kicked the pipe going into the trough and broken it so that it no longer connected with the wall. In other words, water was going into the tank to replace the water the horses slopped over the edge when they splashed around… but it was also running down the outside and seeping into the soil. So it was pouring out in a steady stream.

Wayne locked the boys out of that paddock and was soon up to his shoulder in trough water, up to his knees in mud (again) and up to his neck with the whole pump/water/trough/horse ownership thing.

He worked on that thing all day on Saturday. The result is a tank that actually has water in it for longer than 24 hours, a trough which could give Alcatraz a run for its money, and two very confused horses who’s toy has been taken away.

Two boys who were back in that paddock without either of us opening the gate. SOMEONE has learned to open gates…

Meanwhile, Dancer is coming along nicely. She still won’t come to me and she’s a bit too free and easy with her back legs for me to force my company on her. She’ll come to me and sniff but won’t stay if I reach out. So I don’t reach out. I want her to want me to touch her.

Yesterday Wayne and I were looking at her tiny paddock thinking its time to give her a bit more space. An hour later she was in the big paddock.Turns out Wally and Ben aren’t the hoodinis round here!

Ben is doing great. He’s lunging well on both reins now, better for Wayne than for me of course. I just feel useless at times, but I persevere. Wayne’s been building a round yard so things will be easier… I hope!

Yesterday was an eventful training session. We lunged him for a while, him testing me out and seeing what he could get away with with me and behaving well for Wayne. Then Wayne stood on an old barrel and I led Ben up to him so we could mess around with him in a different way.

Wayne swears he told me to ‘step aside’ cause he was going to jump off and Ben would no doubt startle… I heard ‘step to his side’…

I stepped to Ben’s side.

Wayne jumped.

Ben jumped.

Onto my foot.

I landed in a mass of thistles.

I had a bruised foot and thistles on my butt.

I put ice on my foot and indulged in some self pity, but I’m fine today. At least the foot’s fine. Bruised and a bit sore to touch, but working as you’d expect a foot to work.

Ah. The joys of horse ownership!

z

The new girl on the block

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Our family is growing.
On Monday morning a new girl arrived at Wind Dancer Farm!
She’s a 2 year old warmblood x anglo arab filly. She came with the name Dash but we’ve named her Dancer in honour of Darby, Wayne’s heart horse. Hopefully she will win Wayne’s heart in the same way Darby did.
Dancer has had a lot of bad luck in her short life. Her previous owner (Miss Nice) bought her from someone as a yearling. She was neglected and thin. Miss Nice loved her and cared for her, planning to train her as a jumper, but circumstances changed and she decided to sell her to someone who would give her love and training she’d need to reach her full potential. A friend of hers from work wanted to buy Dancer so she went there to live. Money didn’t change hands at the time, but 6 months later when Miss Nice asked for payment, the friend said she’d changed her mind. She didn’t want her any more.
Meanwhile Dancer had been neglected. Again. She had lice, she’d lost condition, she was spooked by children jumping at her, making her shy and nervous. It was heartbreaking to Miss Nice and to us. We went to see her anyway as Wayne was taken by the idea of her. He’d always said he wasn’t interested in bringing along a new horse, but for the right one he’d consider it. I think Dancer is the right one.
When we went to see Dancer, Wayne worked with her a bit and I could see her respond to him. In my gut I believed we should have her. I think Wayne felt the same but wanted my support to commit to such a big, long term project.
Dancer is gorgeous. She’s only small at the moment, more like a yearling than a 2yr old. She travelled well and arrived with a minimum of stress. She’s currently in a small (very green) paddock and a small yard. She and the boys are spending all their time looking at each other over the fence.
Speaking of the boys… grrr. Yesterday afternoon Wayne went out to work Ben. I was at work till late. Well, he called the boys over, they came about halfway then turned around and went back to where they could see Dancer.
Come feeding time they ignored Wayne again. No dinner last night.
No breakfast this morning.
Its not like they’ll starve. I think our paddocks could feed a herd of buffalo for a year right now. But its the principle of the thing! We need the boys to pay attention to US, not just moon over Dancer. Ben is still in training and he needs to be worked. We cant have him slacking off like this!
I’m glad we’ve got Dancer. I feel she home now, we’ll love her and care for her and give her stability and discipline and teach her to be a companion, friend and good horse.
But I also wonder at why we can’t leave well enough alone. Wally and Ben were going well, coming when called, doing their work… I was bonding with Ben, teaching him what I would and wouldn’t put up with. Things were starting to fall into place. Routines were set.
Then we go and introduce a new horse. Another horse to work, another one to care for. Are we insane? Do we really need MORE to do?
z