WordPlay

I’ve finally figured out the big secret to feeding Duncan.

It wasn’t any single discovery…it was sixteen years of observations coming together at year twenty.

The particulars:

1. Like most Lipizzans, Duncan is an air fern.
2. At random intervals, Duncan has the worst diarrhea ever.  White horse, beautiful long tail…a power scrubber would take days to undo the mess that results.
3. Times 5 if he has a blanket on; blanketing clearly contributed, though who knows how.
4. At other times, he’s far too dry.
5. Those other times have contributed (but not caused) both of his colics–the one he survived only by a miracle, 2 1/2 years ago, and the one a year ago that we caught early and was precipitated by a nasty virus that weakened him for months.
6. None of that happened when he was in Flagstaff on Bermuda hay, which is an unusual kind of high-protein grass that I can’t easily get here.

In the meantime, after the first colic, I started soaking his hay a few moments before he ate.  I didn’t soak it longer, because I had read that the hay loses nutrients in that case.

About six weeks ago, I read (in the online source The Horse), an report on a scientifically conducted hay-soaking study.  And it turns out that lengthy hay soaking doesn’t reduce the nutrients per se.  It reduces the sugar.

So, sez I upon reading this study–great!  I must try longer soaks, because I don’t care if my air fern gets less sugar and the grass will soak up more water.

Now, one of the things that changes pretty significantly between hay cuttings and even hay bales is the amount of sugar in the grass.  Environmental circumstances during grass growth, how long it lays after cutting…blah blah blah.  There’s no easy way to predict it, and you sure can’t tell by looking.  And if my air fern were off grazing as horses evolved to graze, he wouldn’t be facing these abrupt dietary changes.  He’s not a digestive hothouse flower so much as he is displeased with the changes man has wrought to his manner of eating.

Do you see this coming?  He hasn’t had a digestive upset since I started doing soaking the hay.

Not that they came so often that it was obvious at first.  But a siege of bad weather and blanketing drove the point home.  And not that it’s easy.  It means an elaborate set-up in the garage, hay strewn where we don’t want it, and–wuh–hauling nets of soaked hay down to the barn.  But we’ve gotten it down to a pretty good science at this point, and after all these weeks, I am still smug–SMUG, I tell you!–to have stumbled over the food management that overcomes issues old and new.

So we’ll continue to refine the soaking routine, and I’ll probably feel smug for a good long while, and meanwhile, just for fun, here are some Photos of AWWWness.

I was going to 'shop out Connery's evil glowing eye, but decided...nahhhh...

For those of you who wondered about Dart's outfit for the Weather on TD test day...

A sunset and crescent moon in the same pic. Can't see the moon? Clickie the piccie...

My glamorous life.

I am author, web master, Backlist eBooks partner, and…the Mighty Poo Wrangler.

(Don’t you wish you were me?)

At times, this is more obvious than others.  Like when the north slope in front of the barn is frozen for ever and ever in the wake of substantial snow, creating a weird glacier with artfully incorporated horse poo.  It was 4F last night–not unusual for deep winter–and it doesn’t get warm enough, long enough, to melt any of it.  That means…yes.  It goes through subtle warming-freezing cycles that compact and entrench it.

The snow is now slick ice; the poo will be there for archeologists to find centuries from now.  “We must surmise that the occupant of this home worshiped Poo, to have preserved it so well.”

In the meantime, daily feeding excursions to the barn are a bit challenging.  Time to get crampons.

The other time Poo Wrangling duties inch into that “Really?  HOW much clean-up and laundry?” zone is when the dogs pass a bug around between them.  Like this past week and a half.  In this case a weird little bug, with atypical incubation, atypical presentation, atypical course of illness. Mainly I spent the time going, “What?  AGAIN?  And you, too?  NOW?  Really?”

Now that I have the whole picture and have been able to pick the brains of some doggy experts (Brain Wrangling, a whole different skill), it’s obvious I was outwitted from the start.  Virus Win, Durgin Stress Shed, and cleaning product manufacturers rejoice.

It’s at times like this I think, “How many dogs do I have?  Why is that again?”

But of course, they’re quick to remind me.  They wait until I’m off guard and then they arrange to blindside me with adorableness, thusly:

Dart & Connery Ball of Cuteness

Dart & Connery Ball of Even Cuter

If you’ve got critters, I bet you know just what I mean!

By the way, there’s free fun for the next week, more or less--the short story A BITCH IN TIME is a freebie at Nook, Sony, and iTunes, but only until the stores pick up the directive to stick it back to 99c.  That should happen fairly soon–I think!–so grab it while you can!  If you have THE HEART OF DOG, you already have this story.  If not…have fun!

Dart & Connery Ball of Even Cuter

It’s 10am Christmas morning, which is a whole lot later than this day started.  Not because I have eager kids in the house, but because today was my chance to run a certification track with Dart Beagle.

In order to enter the TD (tracking) test, a dog must prove he’s ready.  That means passing on an informal TD track.  Ours was scheduled for Friday the 23rd–but we spent Friday snowbound, digging out from under the third storm in two weeks.

insert random beauty

Sunrise, right before the start of the storm...

Thirty-six hours later, as the sun is about to set...clearing skies with lenticular clouds sitting on the Sandia Mountains

So we rescheduled for Monday.  But then the certifying judge had to reschedule something of her own due to that same weather, and suddenly here we are on Christmas morning, squeezing in the track together.

It was 15F when we left the house; marginally warmer when I ran Dart’s little starter track (a wee morale builder).  Eventually the sun came up and that helped a bit–when we ran the certifying track a little after nine, it was all blue sky, bright sun, and eager Beagle.

And for Christmas this year, the eager Beagle ran a picture-perfect track and found the glove. 

Now I am off to celebrate!

insert random holiday cheer

My view from the office at Horse Feeding Time

Duncan feeling a bit jaunty in his power red blankie

The dogs say "Happy Holidays!"

DuncanHorse is not going to appreciate this blog.

Duncan: Litterbox!  I heard that!

When I moved here, I had a mighty geology/climate lesson.  Because when I lived in Flagstaff at 7,ooo feet, I was on caliche ground and natural volcanic cinder.  We got a ton of snow (many feets of it!), but rarely did we see mud.  At that altitude, under that sun, the snow sublimated before it melted.  And when it did melt, it ran off the hard ground in sheets.  Only in a few select places did it create squishy spots.

So as I prepared to move to new high foothills, here on the windward side of the Sandias in New Mexico, I planned my horsekeeping accordingly.

Duncan:  Me.  It is all about me.  And that is as it should be.

Wow.  No caliche here.  No indeed.  What we have here is adobe mud.  And there’s a reason people made houses from this stuff.  It will suck the shoes off your feet, send you sliding away on the slightest slope, and swallow you up to your knees.  It will especially do this if new construction has disturbed the soil.

Duncan:  What an incredible mess you’ve discovered.

Right.  So says the horse who happily rolls in said mud and then makes faces at me when it dries to concrete in his mane.  (And who also seems to be a fan of the original Star Wars movie.  Imagine.)

We made this discovery shortly before we moved in.  In a panic, we bought several loads of coarse wood shreddings from the local transfer station and had them spread–in the back yard where the dogs would have otherwise disappeared until spring, and in the paddock directly in the immediate barn area. The shredding packed down, created a mud buffer, and also did a stupendous job of sponging up all but the most profound application of monsoon rain.  (Not that we’ve had much of that in the past year, it is grim to say.)

The side paddock remained naked, although in the time since, we’ve tossed some token shreddings along the fence to make better footing for the pacing zone.

Duncan: The pacing zone is important.  Speaking of which, feed me now.

But the shreddings take a beating over time--they drift away, and they’ve been under hard use in a year when Duncan had no pasture time due to the drought.

Duncan: I would much rather be on my PASTURE!

A couple of weeks ago, we got another load of shreddings.  And I commenced to haul and spread and haul and spread and owwwwww.  Ow.  Ow.  Give me ibuprofen!

This is about a third of the original pile, which spread out into the driveway.

So this past week, we hired a strong back to help, and he hauled and I spread, and…

Lo.  The entire paddock is full of thickly layered shreddings.

And when it was done, I stood in the middle and surveyed Duncan’s domain, and realized what I’d done.

Yes.  It’s a giant litterbox.

Duncan: It is NOT.  Feed me.

The giant litterbox, with winter-hairy horse and the Feed Me Foot in action

Yeeeeah…

It kinda is.

Duncan:  Kiss my nose anyway.

Heh heh heh.  Are you ready for winter?

Here, we have a small stockpile of shreddings (recycled landscaping and construction), and Duncan’s paddock needs grooming for winter.

We did this last fall, too, but that application of shreddings has “matured.” In the side paddock, that means there remains a light scattering of shreddings which have helped anchor the daily application of  scattered horse poo, resulting in a light layer of fairly loose top soil over the rock-hard ground.

(Tip: to improve any soil or footing, mix in horse poo.)

In the barn area, the shreddings were applied 4-6 inches deep, and have mostly compacted into a spongy layer that absorbs water and buffers the natural footing. There are still loose shreddings kicking around on top, but the main improvement is that spongy layer.

This ground-grooming activity is all critical, because the natural soil in this area is adobe clay. In the summer, this is rock hard stuff, and every single time you strike it with a shovel you think, “I can’t believe this stuff!”

If it’s wet, it’s the squishieset, sploogiest, clingiest mud-cement you have ever encountered and, as you go skidding across the ground, usually leaving at least one shoe behind, you think, “I can’t believe this stuff!

Of course, in a natural setting, it’s got a cover of tufty grasses and other high prairie-foothill transition growth. But if there’s just been a house constructed, and the bulldozer has been busy, busy, busy….

Well, our entire back yard is covered with these shreddings, which is why the dogs don’t turn into cement mudballs when we do get rain (oh please, may we have some more of that?). So is much of the front area, so we don’t get mired when going to and fro.

But Duncan’s paddock is a special case, and the shreddings are even more critical–because horses churn up mud with astonishing speed.

Also because although when I staked out the barn flat, it wasn’t a direct downhill from the house–but after the construction crew finished prepping the house foundation, it suddenly became THE collecting basin for run-off.

(Yes, I squawked. Yes, I was given the old dismissive “it won’t be a problem” treatment. Yes, I was right.)

Anyway, that area needs constant maintenance to prevent problems large and small. I’ve done some water-scaping, and that’s helped, but mainly it’s that healthy, thick layer of ever-compacting shreddings that prevents the barn from flooding during a hard rain or snow run-off.

One…

Wheelbarrow…

at…

a time.

Pass the ibuprofen, please?

(Are you ready for winter?  Mwah ha ha!)

Duncan is a horse of much cool.

He doesn’t spook, as a matter of course. Not at bunnies flushed beneath his hooves, not at objects blowing past in gale-force winds, not at lightning or thunder or dogs rushing up at him from behind.

He does, however, get mad. And when he gets mad, he gets…

Really.

Really.

Mad.

One of the things he doesn’t find acceptable is smoke–as in, forest fires.  In this, I think he is a very wise horse indeed.  However, as it happens, we’re currently directly in the path of the prevailing winds from the Arizona Wallow Fire.  You know…several hundred miles away, a kazillion acres, zero containment, Ponderosa pine inferno.  It rises across the desert and dumps down in the Albuquerque valley, then spills over the Sandias to settle right on top of…

Us.

Ash everywhere. Inhalers by the bedside, on the desk…one certain Beagle boy with headsplosions getting sinus rinses twice a day and rub downs just as often.  The computers are covered at night against the ash build-up (my keyboard works are so gritty I doubt it’ll survive).

And the horse…  Yes.  The horse is mad.

Duncan pulls out his Big Trot for the Smoke Remonstration

Not to mention a lot of wheeling-to-gallop

And then there's the Angry Strut

And here, the Really Big Trot. See that smoky ridge? That's the smaller of two ridges in our skyline. The other, behind it----Sandia Mountain itself--is obscured by smoke. Normally the biggest feature of our sky...

The Freakishly Cool things of the day:

I found Jim Croce on iTunes. I am replete.

DuncanHorse is strong enough after his illness, the ground firm enough, and the weather nice enough so we went arroyo-hopping this weekend.

The Backlist eBooks sale has been blogged by Smashwords, picked up by eBookNewser, and tickled interest from [BIG IMPRESSIVE BLACKOUT MARK]. With over 80 authors on board and hundreds of books between us…yeah.  We’re reaching a great momentum!

AND.

There’s THIS. Just something to sneak into the market for now while the dust settles from the above sale, but I absolutely can’t wait to share this boxed set graphic.  I mean, WUH!  This is Pat Ryan Graphics, and is she AMAZING or what?

It’s a good thing we tried for more photos the second night of Dart’s introduction to the new concept of “leave your dinner in order to get your dinner” training, because by the third night, he started to put the behavioral pieces together.

But we got them, atomic blur and all! And here they are for your viewing pleasure.  Along with, may I saw, a bonus picture of Duncan, still in significant recovery mode, but dignity intact.

You see that blur? I told you. He vibrates. At atomic speed. (But look at that shoulder action!)

He is a flexible dog. Uh-huh.

Dignity in Horsie Clothes and Fever

DuncanHorse continues his slow recovery from virus and colic.  I continue trying to work on no sleep.

Therefore, this is the blog of the day, and here is the thing for which we have lived since Friday.

Ohhh yeah.

Rejoice!

I had a whole post of Dart’s rally pictures and happy little plans to make happy little chatter about the rally fun match the previous weekend  and this past weekend, our first UKI trial starring Dart (Connery is on the bench due to his meds).

Then came last Friday morning, when Duncan Horse woke up sick and got sicker.  And sicker.  And, even as one of us set up trial gear an hour away, ultimately and obviously too sick for owner management.

So at the moment it looks like he got a virus, which snuck quietly up and then bloomed overnight into dehydration, which caused (not too bad) impaction colic, during which the fever spiked up and complicated the colic recovery.  All of which caused much back and forth to the barn–checking the horse, walking the horse, petting the horse, kissing the horse’s nose, medicating the horse, introducing tiny tiny handfuls of food to the horse, blanketing and coddling and…

Okay, so.  I didn’t write a blog for today. It would have had cute pictures and happy little chatter, though.

But here is a picture that exemplifies Dart’s frame of mind when we ran down to the trial site on Sunday to grab the gear, and grabbed a few quick runs while we were at it (while Duncan had a baby-sitter).  That, of course, is the innards of the toy he stretched his evile prehensile toes out of the crate to acquire and smite.  The rest of the stuffing is in the background.

INSERT  EVILE CUTE DOG HERE

Yeah. Because that little beard of stuffing belongs there.