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.