Paradise at Last!

I thought the day would never come, and I'll bet our horses were thinking the same thing. After months of clearing brush, trimming trees, seeding, installing posts, hanging electric tape, mowing, and erecting a run-in "shed," our paddock paradise project is finally finished!

The day after we completed the project, we led the horses down to the pasture. After months of living in a lot with no vegetation, they greeted the green field with snorts and snuffs. We led them around the entire "track," showing them all the amenities. The water is in a tub near the gate. The run-in shed is halfway along the grass strip. The minerals are located on top of the hill under the trees.

The only amenity they seemed to notice was all the GRASS.

The ideal paddock paradise track does not contain as much grass as ours does. Instead of stripping the grass off the track, we mowed it short and are allowing the horses to graze it down to near nothing. We prepared them for their move to our grass-filled paddock paradise by allowing them to graze in the yard (which is planted with similar pasture grass and clover) for longer periods each day. Still, they seemed to be unable to believe their luck when we turned them loose on the track.

I expected them to run. I envisioned our two horses flying down the track, manes and tails blowing in the breeze. Instead, they thrust their heads to the ground and immediately began to graze as soon as we pulled off their halters.

We checked on them regularly throughout the day and they seemed to be enjoying their new home. Our neighbors, who own the property, were ecstatic when they saw the horses had arrived. I have yet to see them do anything other than graze, but I know they explored the entire track as evidenced by horse poop piles in various locations along the way.

Since the pasture is not located near a water source we can use for filling the water trough, my daughter and I carted over two large containers of water via car this morning. We topped off the trough and I contemplated the idea of adding goldfish to the trough. Goldfish are supposed to keep the algae at bay and they also eat mosquito larvae. The thought of dumping the entire tub on a weekly basis to prevent it from being a mosquito breeding location was daunting. The dumping of the trough really isn't the problem. Filling it back up is!

We opted to purchase a few goldfish. My daughter and I found feeder goldfish at the petstore for the reasonable price of ten for a dollar. We carted them home in a plastic bag and dumped them into the tub. We gave them a couple of rocks for shelter and hoped at least one or two would survive. At the end of the day, all ten are still alive and swimming. You can see the tiny goldfish swimming around in the pic above.

All in all, I think the horses are happy and that's what counts. We'll have less cleaning up to do here at the barn, but more work to do away from the house at the pasture. The manure must still be picked up or dragged, and the horses will need water added to the tub on a daily basis. Pokey (aka Lightning) the pony is still in our paddock and is missing his friends, but he'll be able to join them as soon as they have the grass nibbled down to near nothing.

We'll keep them on the track until their water starts to freeze, and then we'll return them home. While they're at the neighbor's we'll be finishing up another fencing project here on our property to give them more room to run at home.

For now though, we can all enjoy paradise...

The Scoop on Poop

With four permanent dogs, a few visiting dogs, two horses and one pony, we have our fair share of poop to deal with around here. Much to the horror of relatives and acquaintances, poop is a common topic of discussion at our farm. I think it is a completely appropriate topic, however, eating utensils are often placed back down on the table during family dinners when the topic surfaces. We now carefully choose the time and place to discuss it, for fear of further ostracizing ourselves!

So, I'll discuss it here and maybe the folks who are bothered by poop-talk will begin to understand why it's so important. Poop is our barometer of animal health in a lot of ways. And, with so much of it being produced here, we have to find creative and environmentally friendly ways to deal with it that won't anger the neighbors.

The dog poop is easy to deal with. We feed our dogs a home-made, raw diet. Consequently, their poop is much smaller than that from kibble fed dogs and it turns chalky-white within a day. It crumbles to nothing after a quick rain shower. I spend some time picking it up, especially when we have visiting dogs, but since the dogs have their own "yard," I mostly let nature take care of it. I do take a short trip around the dog yard daily to make sure the poop looks normal. Sometimes it doesn't, which is cause for further observation, but not necessarily concern.

The equine poop is another story entirely. As mentioned in an earlier blog, our horses each produce upwards of fifty pounds of manure per day. The pony produces much less, but still enough to matter. The business end of the offending parties is pictured above.

When our horses first arrived, I rented a two-yard dumpster, which was removed weekly by a refuse company. The dumpster was brown and hideous, and very much detracted from the look of our property. After it arrived, one of my favorite sayings to visitors was, "Welcome to our dumpster," because it was the first thing a person saw when entering our driveway.

By the end of most weeks the dumpster was completely full and I had to compact it with the tractor's loader bucket in order to fit the last day's manure and other horse-related refuse. Initially I pushed the wheelbarrow up a narrow ramp to dump the manure into the dumpster. I quickly graduated to the use of the tractor, which made life easier but also used fuel and produced exhaust. The refuse company picked up the manure every Tuesday and burned it in an incinerator. At least it wasn't going to a landfill, but on top of the fuel and exhaust from the tractor, our daily manure removal efforts were an environmental nightmare. You can see the dumpster in the photo above. It is located next to the driveway on the far right of the photo.

Desperate for a better solution, I feverishly researched manure composting methods in order to provide a more environmentally friendly end to the poop.

After a winter of paying $100 per month for the manure removal via dumpster (and hundreds more in fuel for the tractor), I'd had enough. This past spring I constructed a cryptic manure composting area adjacent to the paddock. I chose the location carefully. Rainfall run-off circumvented this area, yet it was close to the paddock so I didn't have to push the wheelbarrow too far. Pushing a hundred pounds of manure around is not easy! I used field stones from our property to outline the area. I decided on a two-pile system. One pile would be the active fill pile where we would dump manure daily. The other pile would be the composting pile, which we would turn often. Once completely composted, the turned pile would be spread on our pastures and lawns, or used for mulch in our landscaping.

Although I read every on-line article I could find, I still was unsure of the process. I did find good information on-line, but a lot of it was very general. I still had questions. How large would I let the pile get before I stopped adding to it and stopped turning it? How would we know if the pile was too wet or too dry? What if the two pile system was too small? What if we became overrun with poop and had nowhere to dispose of it? What if it smelled really horrible?

By then it was too late, I already cancelled the dumpster service, so we forged ahead into the unknown. Initially, the manure seemed to accumulate rapidly. I started to get nervous. After we filled the first pile, we started to turn it almost daily. We then began to fill the area for the second pile.

Amazingly, the first pile quickly started to resemble dirt. There was no bad smell. We kept the piles covered with a tarp, so they seemed to retain the ideal level of moisture while not becoming a breeding ground for pesky biting flies. As we turned the pile, the pieces of manure broke apart and the pile got smaller and smaller. Turning the pile resulted in clouds of steam and waves of heat, which were indicative of the biological activity at work. As the pile darkened in color and changed in texture, the heat and steam diminished. The process was over - from poop to dirt in a mere four weeks. The second pile was ready to be turned, and the process could start anew. The picture above shows the unturned, fresh manure on the left and the finished compost on the right.

My dad and I loaded that first pile into the manure spreader, and within two trips had the entire pile spread on our pasture. Another four weeks have gone by, and I used the second pile for "mulch" in our landscaping. It is a surprisingly pretty mulch with a slight sparkle to it from the granite stone dust in our paddock.

Composting the manure makes me feel good. With every turn of the pile, I feel content knowing our horses' manure is being recycled instead of ending up in an incinerator or landfill. Although I'll continue to read up on composting options and we'll continue to improve our system, I feel like we have a handle on the situation. Winter and snowfall will be the real test, but I have faith in our creativity and ingenuity.

And that's the scoop on our poop.

New Addition to the Farm

I know, I know, we needed another equine like we need another hole in our heads. However, I just couldn't pass this one up.

Introducing "Pokey" the pony....

Pokey is an 11 year old Welsh Pony

The pony thing started with the thought of casually looking for a pony for our daughter. I thought it would be a great idea for her to grow up with her very own equine. She loves our larger horses and, although they are very sweet to her, I'm terrified they will accidentally step on her. My nervousness transferred to her and to them, and our interactions together became more tense each time. I thought a smaller horse or pony would be the perfect solution. I would worry less and she could enjoy her equine experiences more.

I began my search by listing my criteria for this pony. I didn't care whether it was a mare or a gelding, but I was dead-set on size. The pony must be between 12 and 13 hands (a "hand" being 4 inches). This size pony would allow me the ability to ride it if necessary for any schooling issues that might need to be addressed. The pony must also have the perfect temperament - good with children, well-trained and not at all spooky. I was looking for a pony within a few hours drive, so my friend Michelle and I could see the pony in person before buying.

My daughter's only request was regarding the color of the pony. At 3 years of age, she is quite opinionated. When I showed her a potential prospect who was white, she said, "...but I don't want a WHITE pony!"

When asked what color she wanted, she replied, "Brown!"

And so began the quest for the brown pony. I was batting zero with Craigslist (lots of white ponies there!) and the on-line horse classifieds. Then I came across a post from a rescue in Georgia at an on-line discussion forum. They had a small pony who was suffering from laminitis. He needed a place to recover, a place with a family all his own where he could heal. Something about the post caught my attention and I emailed the rescue owner. She told me the pony's story.

Little Cowpoke (aka Pokey) was purchased by a family as a young pony and extensively trained for their young daughter to ride and show. When the daughter outgrew Pokey, they sold him to the owner of a pony camp. Pokey carried children all over the camp. He was also used for pony parties. At the end of a long season, the camp owner ran out of money to feed the ponies. She let them loose in a large, grassy field. The ponies ate well, too well.

Ponies are prone to laminitis. For them, green grass should be given in small quantities and with lots of exercise. Putting ponies on grass after months of hay usually ends badly. These particular ponies were no exception and many of them suffered from severe laminitis. Their owner, knowing the ponies were hurting, tied them to a rail and didn't feed them for days on end. She could not afford hay, nor could she afford medical treatment for their painful feet. So there the ponies stood, until they were rescued by Lori, the owner of a non-profit rescue called Sunkissed Adoptables.

Lori sought medical care for all of the ponies. She quickly found homes for all of them. All of them except one - Pokey. Pokey took longer to heal than the other ponies. He was starting to heal, but it was taking a long time. Pokey needed a place where he could get more attention so he could heal faster.

When I requested pictures of Pokey, Lori sent me a few grainy shots taken with her cell phone. He was brown! And, he had a strange marking on his shoulder. It looked like a little lightning bolt. I thought the marking was quite coincidental. My daughter's favorite movie is "Cars." She loves Lightning McQueen, who has lightning bolt stickers on either side. At that point, I didn't care that Pokey was only 10.2 hands. I didn't care that he was in Georgia and I had no way to see him before I adopted him. All of my criteria flew out the window when I heard his story and saw the pictures of him. I was thinking with my heart, and not my head.

I made up my mind. We were adopting Pokey.

I arranged for transportation of Pokey from Georgia to our farm (thanks Aunt Kim for your help!!!). Pokey travelled 950 miles in two days. When he arrived, he was standing stiffly in the trailer with his friend Lil Dot, a blind, white pony mare. Lil Dot was going home with the transporter, who took pity on her after listening to her cry out to Pokey when he was loaded into the trailer in Georgia. Lil Dot was upset at being left alone in the trailer without Pokey, but would soon have a home of her own as well. If you've never heard a horse cry before, it is a lonesome sound that I don't wish to ever hear again. It is evidence of how emotional horses really are.

We did everything we could to make Pokey comfortable after his long ride. We let him stretch his legs a bit and then retired him to a stall. Our stalls have a special flooring system in them, which provide a very comfortable place to rest. He met his new big brother Cisco, who couldn't believe his eyes when he saw his new playmate. He lavished him with kisses for the rest of the afternoon.

So much for the idea of quarantine!

Then we brought our daughter, who had been napping during delivery of Pokey, out to meet him. She was ecstatic! She hugged and kissed him and I finally had to drag her out of his stall a few hours later when it was time for dinner. She is madly in love with her new friend Pokey, and I think the feeling is mutual.

Some people just don't get it...

The farrier visited us recently. She comes to our barn approximately once every six to eight weeks. For those of you who don't know what a farrier is, the farrier trims a horse's hooves. If the owner so desires, the farrier also puts shoes on a horse. The farrier's work is art as much as it is science. And, just as with anything else related to horses, there are many different methods of trimming and shoeing.


In general, these methods can be split into two distinct groups: barefoot and shoes. The barefoot methods subscribe to the premise that a horse's hooves are healthiest when left without shoes. These methods rely on the movement of a horse and natural forces to strengthen the hooves to allow them to withstand the rigors of life and work. Above is a wild horse's hoof.


The shoeing methods rely on a piece of metal to provide protection, and in some cases correction, for the hooves. This piece of metal is traditionally nailed to the hoof, although some farriers are now experimenting with various glues. Some horses spend their entire adult lives in shoes and others are only shod for the riding or show seasons.

When we first talked about getting horses, I did what I usually do when tackling a new hobby. I spent hours on the internet reading everything I could find related to horses. Reading about hooves made my head spin. Memorizing the terminology was easy. However, who would have thought such a simple task - trimming a horse's hooves - could produce so much controversy? For a person who likes black and white and has an innate desire to always be right and do the right thing, these shades of gray were disconcerting to say the least.

The ins and outs of each method are beyond the scope of this blog (and a person could write several books on the subject, so I'll spare you that), but what it really boils down to is a nature versus man discussion. I'm a strong believer that mother nature knows best. I believe the answers to all of mankind's problems can be found by looking to nature. I believe we can live and thrive on this planet without destroying it if we would just look to nature for answers. We can be a part of nature, rather than apart from it. This belief might seem idealistic or simplistic, but I think in time we'll find it to be true. What on earth does this have to do with horses, you ask? Everything.


I've noticed that, just like the farrier controversy of barefoot (natural) versus shoes (unnatural), the horse-owning community is divided into folks who subscribe to a more natural life for horses versus an unnatural life. Those who subscribe to a more natural life generally believe a horse should live outside in fields or paddocks instead of in a stall. They also believe a horse shouldn't be clipped (shaved) and blanketed, but rather allowed to grow its winter coat to protect it from the elements. They believe in a natural feeding regimen requiring many small meals of mainly hay during the day rather than a few large meals of processed grains. And, of course, they believe in leaving a horse barefoot, rather than putting metal shoes on it.

Although the stall, the clippers and blankets, the processed grains and the metal shoes were all invented and designed in order to "improve" a horse's life, research shows these things do exactly the opposite! Research shows horses need to move constantly in order for their digestive and circulatory systems to work properly. Life in a stall doesn't allow that. Life in a stall also increases the risk of developing respiratory problems. Research shows a horse's ability to thermoregulate is hampered by blankets. Research shows large meals of processed grains can cause a variety of ailments in horses. And, research shows a horse's foot is healthiest when left barefoot. So, all in all, despite man's inventions, research shows horses are healthiest when allowed to live as nature designed them to live.

And so, being a believer in the idea that natural is better, I of course subscribe to the more natural methods of horse care. For the life of me, I can't understand why a horse owner would do it any other way. In fact, some people who don't subscribe to the more natural methods will actually argue against the research with no factual backing of their own. Why they prefer paying the bills for all the unnecessary extras in light of knowing the facts, I'll never know. Stall bedding, blankets, clippers, shoes and grain are not cheap.

Now back to the farrier's visit. I love our farrier. I found her name on a list of barefoot trimmers and after a few emails, she agreed to take on our horses. At first her reserved nature bothered me. I wanted her to tell me what I was doing wrong and right (OK, I mostly wanted her to tell me what I was doing right). She didn't. She came to our barn and quietly did her job. She kept her opinions to herself. If I had questions, she pleasantly explained. I did most of the talking. I suppose I should have appreciated that she wasn't telling me what to do and how to do it, but I was hoping for a more assertive personality. I wanted to make sure I was doing everything right. Her reserved nature has grown on me, and I've learned to appreciate it. I've also learned to keep my mouth shut just in case she has something important to say.

During her most recent visit, I brought up the subject of shoeing horses. I ranted on for a few minutes about why I couldn't understand this unnatural practice. Her response, "Some people just don't get it."

I like that explanation. It's simple but true. It holds true for the whole large-scale issue of natural versus unnatural too. "Some people just don't get it."



Maybe if everybody "got it," we'd be on a much faster track to solving some of mankind's problems.

Boys Just Gotta Have Fun

Warm weather and the prospect of green grass makes horses kept in small paddocks stir crazy in the spring. Our horses are no exception! As much as I wish I could just turn them loose on our Paddock Paradise, the lack of a fence is hampering our efforts to give our horses more freedom. Above is a photo of Cisco trying to look handsome.




Cisco is the more energetic of the two horses. I wouldn't describe him as athletic, but when he gets the notion, he'll book around our tiny paddock at nearly top speed. As he runs and bucks, you can hear the wind whistling around his hooves. It's a neat sound, but one I never hope to hear while he's under saddle!

Cisco loves to play with Riot the dog through the fence. Riot is not playing. He is always working. Lately he thinks he is a Border Collie and attempts to herd the horses into a nice tight group. They never cooperate and Cisco teases him by breaking rank repeatedly.




Cisco at top speed


Riot trying to "herd" Molly


Riot running with Cisco


Cisco is all muscle!

The fence for the Paddock Paradise is ordered and the horses are impatiently awaiting its arrival. As soon as big brown drops it off in the driveway, our workload will increase exponentially (again!) and we'll be busy putting in the step-in posts and stretching electric tape. For the perimeter fence, we're using green t-posts (in addition to every available tree along the perimeter) and three strands of brown, 1.5-inch electric tape. For the interior fence of the track, we'll use the step-in posts and only two strands of the electric tape. Hopefully the two strands will be enough to dissuade Molly from pushing the fence over and stealing forbidden bites of green pasture grass.

Once we install the fence, we'll have to gradually introduce our horses to the Paddock Paradise. Aside from a few mouthfuls here and there, the horses haven't eaten grass since they arrived in October. Tossing them onto lush spring grass, however little there will be in the "track" portion of the paddock, could cause a bout of laminitis. Spring grass typically has a high sugar or non-structured carbohydrate level, which can be dangerous for horses. Laminitis can lead to founder, which can be a life-threatening problem. During a bout of laminitis, the laminae of the horse's hooves become inflamed and lameness results. Laminitis can be so severe that euthanasia is the only way to relieve the horse's suffering.

You can bet we'll do our best to avoid that fate for our horses. My primary reason for following the Paddock Paradise model is to prevent such a thing from occurring. Horses in motion and gradual introductions to grass are the best measures for ensuring our horses' health during this transition.

So, until the fence arrives, we'll just be lounging around, enjoying the beautiful Connecticut spring weather (right!).

I knew this would happen!

Due North Farm is a very small farm. It can hardly be called a farm in the traditional sense of the word, but we like to think of ourselves as farmers. It is my personal opinion that we've certainly scooped enough poop and seeded enough acreage to qualify.

I always wanted to be a farmer. Perhaps it's genetic as I have farmers on both sides of my family. I spent summers as a kid with my family on my grandparents' farm in Wisconsin (one of the barns at the farm is pictured below). I remember my grandparents and my great aunt and great uncle (also farmers) talking about my older brother becoming a farmer. My brother enjoyed the farm too, but I always wondered why they chose to talk about him becoming a farmer instead of me. I loved the farm and the animals just as much as he did. I even wore the sweaty John Deere hat as often as I could steal it away (I loved that hat!). His age and gender likely were the qualifying factors. Little girls do not become farmers I suppose (although tell this to my friend Tara as she's wrestling an alpaca to the ground for its annual teeth filing).



Fast forward to the present and I am the one with the livestock. My brother owns a cat. As a police officer he is a farmer of another sort though, weeding out the criminals in the city of Chicago and protecting the flock from the predators.

The root of my desire to become a farmer is my love of animals. As kids, my siblings and I had guinea pigs, hamsters, gerbils, fish, rabbits and dogs. Although we did have pets, I always wanted more. My letters to Santa always started with a puppy or a kitten at the top of the list. I wrote letters to my parents begging them for a puppy. My mom kept one such tear stained letter (yep, I dotted it with tears, hoping they would help) and gave it back to me a few years ago. For some reason, my husband couldn't stop laughing after reading it. His comment: "Some things never change!"

All the begging and crying for my very own puppy never paid off. Consequently, as soon as I was able, I started accumulating dogs. It was slow at first - one dog in college and then another when I graduated and had a real job. After immersing myself in the world of search and rescue and marrying another search and rescue canine handler, I was at one point up to six dogs. Search and rescue was my new passion. Around this same time, my dad said to me, "Gee Konnie, if we knew you were so into dogs, we would have bought you a puppy when you were a kid."

Apparently I didn't cry enough on those letters! Seriously though, I'm glad I didn't get that puppy for Christmas. It makes owning a dog now much more special. Of course, it also created an insatiable desire to have more animals.

We're now down to three and a half dogs (Pacino is a Miniature Pinscher, thus the half a dog). However, I'm always looking for another search and rescue prospect. I have empty crates and an insatiable desire to fill them with dogs. We have two horses, and I'm scouring Craigslist every day for an older horse that is beginner friendly and will take care of its rider.

And, the worst part is that I have to daily convince myself not to diversify by obtaining other species of livestock. Owning even a small amount of acreage (along with somehow managing to snag a very understanding husband) has blown the desire for additional animal acquisition wide open.

Chickens. Chickens. Chickens. I've been researching egg-laying chickens. Between the humans and the dogs here (mostly the dogs), we go through about a dozen eggs each week. I might nix the chicken idea, especially after reading up on the requirements for keeping chickens in lay. Chickens need at least 16 hours of daylight each day in order to keep laying eggs. Add that electrical project to the construction of a chicken coop and pen and we're talking about a lot of work. And that's just the start of it. Feeding them, protecting them from the dogs and keeping them contained are issues that just don't fit into my schedule at the moment. Ask me about chickens next month and you might get a different answer.

Goats are my other animal du mois. We've spent dozens of hours clearing pasture and our worst nightmare would be for the brushy vegetation and weeds to grow back and crowd out our pasture grass. Goats eat weeds. Goats eat shrubs. Goats eat a lot of things our horses won't touch. Goats also like to escape from their enclosures and play funny tricks on people such as "climb on top of the car" and "eat expensive landscaping plants." I'm debating between goats and the task of spending a few hours each month during the growing season weed-whacking and mowing the undesirable vegetation before it reproduces. My friend Tara mentioned something about a neighbor giving away free goats and I couldn't type and send the email fast enough. "Send me the free goats!"

As far as I know there is no cure for this affliction. Even if there is, I don't want any part of it. I love these animals, every one of them. I love their idiosyncrasies. I love the work involved in caring for them. I love communicating with them both in serious training and just for fun. I love the bond I have with each of them.

With each new animal we acquire, the potential for us going on a real vacation diminishes. We're becoming prisoners of our property. We do have an excellent dog sitter, but she doesn't do horses (or chickens or goats or any other livestock species). Finding a farm sitter won't be an easy task. I don't even know if such a profession exists. Then again, why would we want to go on vacation when paradise is right here?

Jail Break

Shortly after arriving here on our farm, the horses broke out of the paddock. This happened one night after dark when I was home by myself. For whatever reason, catastrophe always strikes when my husband is at the firehouse. This night, it was nearing bedtime and I heard a commotion from the dogs outside. It wasn't the normal, "let us in, you're 5 minutes behind schedule" barking. Rather, it was the high intensity alarm reserved for more serious situations.

I looked out the front window and scanned the paddock. I squinted in an attempt to improve my vision. This did not produce the desired results. The paddock was truly devoid of all equine life and no amount of squinting made the horses appear.

I hurriedly shoved my feet into my boots and stumbled out the front door. I nearly catapulted head-first down the front stairs as I tripped over myself in an effort to get to the paddock as fast as possible. As I neared the paddock, I noticed the back gate was wide open. My heart was pounding wildly as I fought a complete state of panic.

Where were the horses????!!! They were on our farm for less than a week and I had already lost them!

I spun around at the crunch of a twig and through the darkness saw two white stripes facing me from the other side of the paddock. Thankfully, the horses were in the yard eating our lush lawn grass. I retrieved two leads from the barn, opened the side gate and led them through the paddock into their stalls.

After buttoning them up in their stalls for the night, I collapsed on a bale of hay from the exhaustion of my adrenaline-infused panic attack. I took a few minutes to recover and then went to investigate the open gate. Our paddock gates are standard tubular field gates. To lock these gates, you simply pull the attached chain around the fence post and loop it back through a small tab. It's a very simple "lock" and, when we first purchased the gates, both my husband and I had doubts about its effectiveness. It turns out our doubts were realized that night. One or both of the horses pushed on the gate hard enough to snap the chain and open the gate.

I was thankful the dogs sounded the alarm before the horses went too far. However, I found evidence of their travels while doing barn chores the next day. The light of morning revealed their exact route from the night before. Upon closer inspection, I noted hoof prints leading from the gate and up towards the driveway. I found dirt from their hooves all the way at the end of the driveway near the road. The horses had walked down the entire length of the driveway, only to turn around at the road and return to our yard.

For whatever reason, the horses decided to forgo complete freedom in exchange for lawn grass. Although, I like to think they decided our farm wasn't such a bad place after all.

(Note: We've since installed heavy duty latches on all of the gates, just in case the horses change their minds!)

It's a love/hate thing...

Horses are very intelligent and intuitive creatures. They are much more intelligent than most people give them credit for. In fact, in my limited experience, I've found them easier to train than dogs. Prior to owning horses, my experience with them was limited to riding friends' horses here and there, as well as taking dressage lessons once upon a time. From these experiences, I knew I loved horses and I knew I wanted to eventually own a few. I admittedly thought of them as pretty cows a person could ride. My husband and I both thought a well-trained horse was basically a push-button automaton. You feed them, you ride them, you brush them, and they eat and poop.

Not so. We were absolutely wrong.

The realization of their intelligence came slowly for us. I did immediately notice their ability to predict my behavior and to set their clocks according to feeding time. That was completely understandable and of no surprise to me. They are incredibly food driven animals. Their stomach design requires them to eat small, regular meals. Due to their stomach acid production and the rate at which food travels through their digestive system, a horse is healthiest when it is constantly able to nibble little bits of hay or grass throughout the day. As a result, they always feel hungry and the bulk of their natural activity revolves around food seeking and eating behavior.

I didn't notice the depth of their intelligence until I realized their training was lacking and I needed to do something about it before either my husband or I got hurt or killed. I discovered that one trial learning is the norm for horses. You teach them something once, and they get it. Very little repetition is necessary on the horse's part. As you can imagine, we're very thankful for that!

Even more impressive than their intelligence is their intuition and the bond they develop with the people they care about. This bond transcends rational thought and bridges into a connection beyond logical description. For example, one night while watching television, I abruptly decided to get up and look out the window at the horses. Molly was standing by the side gate, looking across the drive and through the window at me.

I knew she needed something. I don't know why or how I knew, but I just felt it. I am convinced she was deliberately and purposefully communicating to me that she needed help.

I put my boots on and went out to investigate. As I got closer, I noticed she was standing funny. I have a few small logs in the paddock that I've used to train the horses to walk or trot over objects on the trail. Molly apparently walked over one, it rolled, and her foot was lightly caught under it. She easily could have stepped away on her own. However, Molly was hobble trained by her previous owner. Hobble training is a method where the horses legs are tied together at the ankle to teach them not to struggle or bolt when their legs get caught. A horse who is properly hobble trained will immediately stop if they feel their leg is being held by something.

Molly was stuck.


I walked over to her and moved the log. She still didn't move, so I clicked my tongue at her and she walked a few steps after realizing she was now free to move. As I walked back to the service gate, she followed me. Never before had Molly followed me unless I was carrying food or she was attached to a lead rope. She is not an affectionate horse and usually keeps to herself. She generally doesn't like to be touched, although she tolerates it. As I stopped to open the gate, I could feel her breath on the back of my neck. I turned around to scratch her under the neck and she rested her head on my arm, letting out a big sigh. She couldn't have said thank you more clearly unless she spoke the words out loud.

Although they clearly are sentient beings, as with all animals, horses are driven by their survival instincts. One of their most powerful instincts is their need to be a part of and to stay with their herd. For some horses, the drive to be with their herd is so powerful that they will injure themselves to rejoin their herd members. This behavior, when it interferes with a human's desire to work with or ride a horse, is referred to as being herd bound. Most horses, when kept separate from other horses or animals that can act as a herd, will also suffer from a form of depression.

When our horses first arrived on our property, we let them loose together in the paddock. Molly immediately informed Cisco of her desire to own and eat all of the hay and chased him away from the hay piles. She even bit him quite severely a few times when he didn't seem to understand that her pinned ears and shaking head were meant to move him out of her way. She didn't want him near her. We were a little concerned, but the hoopla disappeared in less than a week as Cisco started to understand that Molly meant business. She still gives him little reminders here and there when he forgets she is the boss. Although gelded, he is after all still a male.

After watching Molly chase Cisco around with teeth flashing, I figured she just plain didn't like him. It is quite possible she doesn't. If you watch them throughout the day, especially at feeding time, you are completely convinced she absolutely hates him. However, the first time I tried to ride her away from the paddock without him, she fought me every step of the way. As soon as she realized we were leaving the property, she panicked and turned to rush back to her herd mate.

It is not easy stopping a 1400 lb. horse when they've made up their mind to do something, especially when your initial efforts to stop them are met with more speed on their part.

I finally was able to bring her to a complete halt using the one-rein stop technique. As we walked past the barn on our way back, she was wide-eyed with her head in the air. She was sweating. She frantically searched for a view of Cisco through the barn windows. As soon as we were back in the paddock, she settled down. I was amazed. The horse she seemed to so vehemently hate was, in her mind, critical to her survival.

The relationship of a horse with its herd mates is complicated. Regardless, the driving factor is always survival. Survival of the individual horse means the horse must be pushy and defend its food from other horses, however, survival of the individual horse also depends on the security of the herd. For Molly, it's a love/hate thing...

Learn Something New Every Day

I am an information junkie, addicted to learning. Most days I feel like my brain is a big sponge and I can't soak up enough information with it.

Sometimes I wish I had a bigger sponge.

These days, most of my information comes via the internet. I know, you can't believe everything you read on the internet (blah blah blah), but if you stick to reading websites based on fact vs. a person's opinion, you can really learn a lot. With each new hobby I take on (and I seem to take on at least one per year), I scour the internet for information. Its a near obsession, really. If I dig a little deeper into my psyche, I will probably find that this obsession comes from my desire to always be right. If I have all the correct and factual information, then I can't be wrong, can I?

On the internet, I've researched just about everything dog. I've read about dog psychology, dog nutrition, dog vaccination (thanks, Tara, for that great website!), dog health issues, dog genetics, the best equipment for dog training, origin of dog breeds...and the list goes on and on. Of course, even on research-based websites there is conflicting information. In this case, it's up to me to decide what is right and wrong. Not having the exactly correct answer usually creates a little anxiety for me, but I get over it after a while.

As you can imagine, when we delved into the world of livestock-keeping, there was another whole pool of information for me to soak up. I read every reputable website I could find regarding horse keeping. One of my absolute favorites:

http://www.integralhorse.com/.

This website is written by a veterinarian who bases her recommendations on research. This is important because the horse industry is plagued with misinformation. I've found that with horse keeping, there are a lot of people doing things to and with their horses because, "that's the way its always been done" or "that's what my neighbor/friend/guy at the feed store told me to do." For people who are new to horse keeping, this is frustrating at best.

For my husband, it is a nightmare!

He takes everything in stride though. I'm not sure how or why he tolerates all of this, but bless his heart, he does. In the beginning, I was changing my mind daily. My opinions on pasture management, vaccination schedules, feeding, and the like fluctuated like the New England weather. Remember the often over-used saying, "if you don't like the weather in New England, wait a few hours and it will change?" That is me!

Now, my husband nods his head and does his best to act geniunely interested, which I imagine is not easy considering all of the information I throw at him as he walks in the door after a long day of hard work. He no longer acts on the first bit of information I toss out, but rather knowingly waits a few days or weeks until he's sure I've come to a complete conclusion on what pasture mix is best to seed the pasture with (no matter that the appropriate season for seeding has long since come and gone - mea culpa).

Spring is typically vaccination time for horses. Some owners opt to have the veterinarian administer vaccines to their horses. This usually means paying for a farm visit, which, according to my last vet bill, can exceed $85 a visit. That does not include the cost of the vaccines. The thriftier horse owners vaccinate their horses themselves. I figured if they could do it, so could I. After researching which vaccines my horses really need, I purchased the necessary equipment on-line. The vaccines arrived yesterday, packaged in ice. Since I don't want to bombard my horses' immune systems with multiple vaccines at one time (I researched that on the internet too!), I opted to give them one yesterday and then stagger the remaining doses.

I was a little nervous about the injection procedure.

This, however, was not the first time I've injected a needle into an animal. I did once have to give my college roommate's cat insulin injections while she was away for the weekend. The cat did not appreciate my lack of experience and I figured my horses wouldn't either. So, I researched the appropriate method for giving intramuscular injections to horses.

http://www.aces.edu/pubs/docs/A/ANR-1018/

It sounded easy enough. First, you poke the needle into the injection site of choice. Then, you attach the syringe containing the medication. Next, you pull back on the syringe plunger to make sure the needle isn't in a blood vessel. Finally, you plunge the medication into the horse.

The directions do not, however, describe the procedure for dealing with a bucking rodeo horse after you stick the needle in, but before you are able to attach the syringe. For that part, I had to rely on my own resources.

Molly was her usual patient self. I tried to approach her as nonchalantly as possible. I could see her watching me from the corner of her eye though. She knew I was up to something, but she decided to ignore me and continued munching on hay. Avoiding me and whatever procedure I was about to inflict on her would mean she would have to walk away from the hay. Staying with the hay and enduring this unknown procedure was a gamble she was willing to make. She stood like a statue while I injected her in the neck, not flinching even once.

Completely convinced that I was now a vaccinating professional, I approached Cisco with renewed confidence. He was eating hay too but took a few steps away as I approached. Ever-intuitive, he definitely knew I was up to something. I looped a lead rope over his neck and waited for him to resume eating. He did, and I poked him in the neck with the needle. His eyes widened and he jumped around like a cat with something stuck on its foot. I held my grip on the lead rope and waited for him to calm down so I could attach the syringe and inject the medication.

As you can imagine, standing next to a 900 lb. jumping horse while holding an open syringe of medication is not an easy task. As he calmed down, I noticed the needle was starting to slip out of his neck. I pushed it back in and he performed his rodeo jumping again. We went back and forth like this for a while. He would calm down, I would poke, he would jump around and then I'd wait for him to calm down again.

Finally, he calmed down enough so that I could inject the medication. For a few hours after this procedure, he wouldn't let me near his neck. I can't say I blame him for that.

I'm not looking forward to next week, when the horses must endure round two of the vaccination schedule. One round down, three to go.

Recycling

We recycle. Doesn't everybody? We don't have regular trash pick-up (we could get it, but then we'd have to pay for it - eek!), so we stockpile our domestic recyclables until the bin is overflowing and the counter top starts to accumulate the spillover. Then my husband loads them into the back of our ailing pick-up truck and takes them to the dump. Our town dump has a bin for recyclables and we assume these items are indeed recycled.

I like to take recycling a step further though. On the advice of a friend, I investigated Craigslist (http://www.craigslist.com/). I started slowly at first, looking at our local list every few days or so. Then my friend informed me I was doing it all wrong. I had to look every day in order to take full advantage of this amazing tool. After all, looking at the list every day is the only way to find the really good stuff (defined as free, nearly free or just a helluva good deal).

The really good stuff goes fast.

So I now spend about half an hour a day sifting through the Farm and Garden For Sale Craigslist ads for every region within a 3 hour drive of us. I've been doing this for a month or so, and between all the ads for broken lawnmowers, rusty tractors and run-down trailers, I found this gem:



What is it, you ask? Its a ground-driven manure spreader. I bought it from a commercial fisherman in Cape Cod for half the price of a new one. It works just fine and, because it is powered by its own wheels, we can hook it up to a forecart for our draft horse to pull. We can also pull it with the tractor. It will be a necessity for spreading composted manure when we have our composting system up and running. A recycled spreader to spread recycled manure.

My other recycling victory of this month is the water trough for the pasture. The cycle has gone full circle for this tired old tub. Initially purchased and used for livestock watering by the previous landowner, this tub was then used for human bathing. Then it ended up in the pasture again, only to be forgotten when the farmer passed away and the animals no longer grazed the pasture. The horses won't notice that we didn't pay over $100 for a Rubbermaid livestock trough at Tractor Supply, but our checking account sure will!

Schedules

I like to think of myself as organized. Its a fantasy, really, but I like to pretend my day is scheduled and that I have a strict timetable I must abide to. I try, but living with a toddler and having dogs and livestock means the schedule is usually thrown out the window by 6:30 a.m. Although, if the schedule is thrown off that early, it has nothing to do with the toddler or the horses and is probably just because I overslept.

Our day starts with my husband leaving for work before the sun even peeks above the horizon. I wake up hours later (or at least I get out of bed - I usually don't wake up until the barking of dogs jars me into consciousness). I put my coveralls on over my PJs and I feed the dogs first. This is where I really am strict about the order of things. Preventing a dog fight around here requires analytical reasoning fit for the LSAT. Crash and Riot can't be in the dog yard together. Hero and Crash can be in the dog yard together. Pacino can't be in the dog yard with any of the other dogs yet, although we're working on it. Crash will howl like a monkey if he's in his crate and I go downstairs to feed the other dogs or let them out. Most of the time we're also boarding and training at least one other dog and they have to be kept separate too (except for Baily the Labradoodle, a regular visitor who gets along famously with any of our dogs). So, Crash (pictured below) goes out first before he pees all over his crate. Then I feed and let out the others (Riot and Hero first, then Pacino), bringing Crash inside before the others go out, of course

This is where the schedule starts to break down. Dogs occasionally throw up in their crates. Dogs also occasionally have explosive diarrhea in their crates. Dogs do all kinds of gross things in their crates that require precious minutes of clean up time. I suppose I would throw up or have explosive diarrhea if horse manure was a regular part of my diet too. Dogs are gross.

When I finally get out to the barn, the horses are impatiently waiting for their breakfast and to be released from their prison cells. Cisco bangs his hoof and chews on the stall door to remind me that I'm moving way too slow. Molly has seen it all, and she waits patiently while I dish out the morning grain and hay.

According to what I've read, horses produce approximately 50 lbs. of manure a day. I haven't weighed ours, but that seems accurate. While the horses eat, I pick up around 49 lbs. with the manure fork and Riot picks up the rest. Then I let the horses out into the paddock and Riot and I clean up the remaining 50 lbs. of manure in the stalls. If all goes well (and it never does), there are no stall parts to repair, no buckets to re-hang and no major spills to pick up. I don't even check my watch to see how far behind I am.

The next 15 minutes is heaven for me as I brush the horses. I talk while I brush, and they chew their hay and listen. I check them over for cuts and scrapes, and they swat flies and me with their tails. Molly is the best listener. Cisco, being the boy, tunes me out, but nods his head in agreement every once in a while.

I check my watch, realize I'm half an hour behind schedule and rush back into the house. Its not even 8 a.m. and I'm ready to crawl back into bed again. No such luck, as the toddler is now awake and the real fun of the day begins!

Spring = Work

There is no shortage of work to do around here. Our property currently looks like the town dump. Tractor implements, hoses, piles of dirt, piles of wood and torn up landscaping beds adorn the property. Its a good thing our house can't be seen from the road, or else I'm sure we'd have confused neighbors dropping off their trash.

I knew owning horses would add significantly to our workload (and detract significantly from our checking account), but I was suffering from severe naivete when we brought them home. The daily "barn chores" are fun. Even though I'm scooping poop, it hardly seems like work to me. Brushing the horses (yep, I do it every day!) is therapeutic. Following through with all of my crazy ideas on horsekeeping, however, is not!

It goes something like this, "Honey, I think we should clear and seed the pasture with a pasture mix and then fence off separate grazing areas so we can do rotational grazing." Then, the next day, "Honey, I think we should just have one big area for the horses to graze." Now its, "Honey, I read about this great idea on-line where we fence a track around the pasture and then mow the grass for hay to feed to the horses." My husband thinks I'm crazy, but he plays along as all good husbands should. As soon as his head stops spinning and I've made up my mind about exactly what we're going to do with the pasture, we head out to the field with tools in hand. At the end of the day, we're tired and covered with dirt and ticks. We're making progress though!

We've decided to configure our pasture fencing to create a track around the pasture. The configuration is based on Jaime Jackson's Paddock Paradise model. The premise of this model is to stimulate the horses to move. Compared to typical pasture life, horses kept in such paddocks have greater movement. This keeps them (and their hooves) in great physical shape, and reduces the likelihood of founder. For a great website showing a paddock paradise already in action, visit this link: http://thenaturalhoof.homestead.com/PaddockParadise.html

Our Paddock Paradise will be located on the neighbor's property. The neighbors generously allowed us the use of their back pasture, provided we clear and fence it. Its a pretty good trade-off, although I think we underestimated the amount of work required for clearing it. I didn't take any "before" photos of the pasture, but believe me when I tell you it was a wall of shrubs. And, of course, every single species of shrub out there was armed to the teeth with thorns. Russian olive, multiflora rose and bayberry created a big, green and brown maze. This maze was only passable by the smallest of creatures and not suitable for horses or people. According to the neighboring farmer, the pasture's most recent inhabitants were sheep and that was over 20 years ago. Below is an aerial photograph showing the pasture (outlined in red).

To date, we've cleared the majority of the shrubs. Clearing initially involved a few hours of my husband pushing brush over with the front loader of our small tractor. That worked, but it made a huge mess and was very time consuming. He then bought a brush hog and powered through the brush in a few hours. We've seeded the disturbed areas and the areas that were devoid of grass due to the brushy overstory. Already small blades of green are poking up all over. Today we finished clearing the northeast corner. Our next step is to start fencing.

The horses will be thrilled with their new arrangement. Since they arrived in October, they've been confined to a small paddock adjacent to the barn. It allows them a little room to run, but they need so much more.