So here's a case where I think modern medicine could do better:
I've spent much of the last 18 months learning, in a sense, what death is about. From number 16 to our chickens to the 'perfect' hog, I've been figuring out, in my methodical and metaphorical way, what I think about death, what I believe about it, and what it's like to feel life literally slip through your hands.
And I'm with Temple Grandin: "Nature is cruel, but we don't have to be!" In the HBO movie, she (well, Claire Daines as Temple) repeatedly asks "where did they go?". A question with no answer, that gets to the point that first the animals are alive, and then they are not, and the difference is obvious and vivid. You can not mistake it when it happens. And it comes to all of us, whether we want to believe it or not.
So, I have now participated directly in the deaths of more than a dozen animals, from dogs to horses to cows and chickens. I once tried to kill an injured mouse by drowning it. That felt like it took forever, and I vowed I'd never do it again. A few weeks ago, my dogs had caught one, but didn't know how to do more than hurt it. So I took it's head off with a shovel. It suffered for maybe 15 minutes. Because I cared. And I didn't want it to suffer. But the decision had already been made that today was the day it would die.
So. What is this all about, and how does it relate to modern medicine, and what, exactly, am I angry about? Last week, my dad died. On Thursday, he was taken off of lie support. He had extensive brain damage, had been sick a really long time, and had so many things wrong with him that he was never going to be well again. Life support stopped on Thursday. Not until Friday did they start the morphine. Not until Friday night did his suffering finally end. The people who were there say his suffering was terrible. For more than 24 hours, he suffered. Even though the decision was made. Even though this was his day to die. Even though we would all rather go quickly, with dignity. I have treated my dogs better than this. I have treated mice better than this. This would have been allowed to go on for days, or even weeks, or even years.
How is this merciful? How is this compassionate? How is this right?
Suppose this had been a cow. Any number of animal welfare agencies (not to mention the sheriff and the H.P. up the street) would have been pounding at the door. A man was just cited in my town because he shot and dressed a cow in his driveway. (I'm not saying that's appropriate, exactly, I'm just making the point that at least that was quick, and humane!)
Suppose my dad had been a criminal on death row. He would have been put to death in a process that might be excruciatingly painful (as far as I know, no one knows for certain), but would last no more than a few minutes.
Can someone please explain to me why ordinary people are left to suffer agonizing pain for hours, days or weeks, but the worst of the worst are treated with dignity? Can someone explain why, once the decision is made, we can't help people out the door with the same compassion we show our dogs? Are we really that filled with hatred for ourselves that we would rather let billions suffer than be grownups and make the hard choices for those who can't help themselves? Do we really believe there would be a rash of people killing their friends and relations and next-of-kin, just because we can? Really? I mean, really, really? Wow. That's disgusting. I don't even know what to think.
Sooner or later, we all go through the door. Really. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. And all I can say is that when it comes my time, and someone else has to choose for me (are you listening, J?), I want to be treated like my dog. Not like my dad.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Modern medicine
So, this is exciting. Lance Armstrong is coming to town for the XTerra bike race. And that dove-tailed so neatly with an article I was reading recently at the CDC website that I have to tell you about it. (I have that plague 'thing', so I stop by there regularly to check up on the latest about y. Pestis---weird, I know, but that's just me!) As you probably know, Lance is hero to many people, because he fought testicular cancer and won. The particular type of cancer he had was caused by a virus that's transmitted sexually. And now there's been a medical breakthrough---a vaccine is available, that will keep young men from getting the virus, and no young men will ever have to suffer this particular cancer again, or lose their chance to have children! The CDC is recommending that they get it young, long before there's any chance of them being sexually active, since it's useless after they contract the virus.
Ah, see? It's a different story, isn't it? People would flock to get this vaccine for their sons.
I just made it up, by the way, as an exercise. I always do this when I hear about something happening to girls. I imagine it was a boy. Then how would it go? You'd be shocked at how often just changing the gender changes the whole scenario!
Because people would flock for a testicular cancer vaccine for their sons, but their daughters can just... Well... Suffer.
Thanks for that, Michelle Bachman. Not only are you ignorant, and sexist, but you have just done harm to an entire generation of girls. I lay every case of cervical cancer to occur over the next generation directly and squarely at your feet. nice work. I hope you are proud of it. There's you, and there are the religious zealots in Pakistan, who prevented us from eradicating polio from the entire planet, as we did for smallpox. As polio moves back into China, and India, and eventually back across the globe, I hope you think a little harder about the ground on which you've chosen to set your feet. Vaccines are one of the great achievements of human-kind. And anyone who doesn't think so needs to go back to school and read the accounts of pandemics, epidemics, and even just simple, ordinary instances of people being crippled for life by disease. If not for vaccines, you could never be so complacent as to think they weren't necessary.
Ah, see? It's a different story, isn't it? People would flock to get this vaccine for their sons.
I just made it up, by the way, as an exercise. I always do this when I hear about something happening to girls. I imagine it was a boy. Then how would it go? You'd be shocked at how often just changing the gender changes the whole scenario!
Because people would flock for a testicular cancer vaccine for their sons, but their daughters can just... Well... Suffer.
Thanks for that, Michelle Bachman. Not only are you ignorant, and sexist, but you have just done harm to an entire generation of girls. I lay every case of cervical cancer to occur over the next generation directly and squarely at your feet. nice work. I hope you are proud of it. There's you, and there are the religious zealots in Pakistan, who prevented us from eradicating polio from the entire planet, as we did for smallpox. As polio moves back into China, and India, and eventually back across the globe, I hope you think a little harder about the ground on which you've chosen to set your feet. Vaccines are one of the great achievements of human-kind. And anyone who doesn't think so needs to go back to school and read the accounts of pandemics, epidemics, and even just simple, ordinary instances of people being crippled for life by disease. If not for vaccines, you could never be so complacent as to think they weren't necessary.
Monday, September 5, 2011
County Fair, 4-H, and the hog of a lifetime
Each year, we are more enraptured by the County Fair. It's not the rides and the entertainment, although we take note of that as we walk by. And it's certainly not the Demolition Derby! No, we make straight for the livestock barns, where all the 4-H kids can be found brushing, feeding, watering and cleaning their animals. Tiny 8-year-olds leading thousand pound steers into the wash rack, corralling 300-pound hogs, and scolding stubborn goats. Sometimes the child leans her whole weight on the lead line, and the goat just digs her feet in and pulls back. A lesson learned there---sometimes the most obvious thing is not the easiest. A goat will go anywhere (away from you), if you even threaten to grab her tail!
This year, we were determined to help out some of these kids, who are learning to farm, one animal at a time. So we signed up for the Junior livestock auction. Here, all the 4-H animals are sold at premium prices, giving a helping hand to these kids. We had our eye on a couple of hogs that we thought were pretty nice, but thought we'd wait and see what happened.
The first animal on the block was the championship lamb. The bidding started at $3 a pound, and rapidly rose to $19 a pound. Uh-oh. Maybe we wouldn't be getting ourselves a hog after all!
After that, it quickly became clear that businesses were buying the champions, because it's relatively inexpensive advertising for them, at more or less every County Fair from now until the end of time.
Then the 'normal' animals started coming to the block. Prices were all over the map, and it took us a while to figure out what was going on. These were all blue-ribbon animals, so people weren't deciding what to bid based on the quality of the animal... Then a woman down the row from us bought a lamb. And her last name was the same as the last name of the child with the lamb, and we thought 'Oh. Of course. It's not about the food. It's about the child'.
After that, we had a blast watching bachelor uncles (who'd been having a few too many on a hot August afternoon!) get into bidding wars over lambs, hogs and steers. Grandparents would have their heads together, calculating how high they could go on Jimmy's lamb, and still have enough to bid up the price on Rachel's hog.
We watched as friends of ours---Famer Phil, Thayne the butcher, Curt the rancher---bid on animals that were going for too little. So we followed their lead. After a couple of hours of just watching, a hog came up with a nervous little boy, who was obviously doing this for the first time. Crickets were chirping as the auctioneer called numbers. The opening bid fell to $2.50. And we bid on it. That got things started, and the price quickly went out of our league. So we did that a few more times, until we reconsidered the maximum we were willing to pay.
Then came another little boy, no more than eight years old, clearly adopted from overseas. We bid on his hog, the price went up a few times, and then we won the bid! So I took the bidding card away from John, because you can never tell with him at an auction...
After a few more minutes, we made our way to the cashier. As we were waiting to pay, the boy's dad walked up to John. 'Son,' he said, 'this here's the gentleman from Bellwether Farm'. The boy was so nervous, but he presented us with a little gift bag of pancake fixin's. We made small talk for a few minutes, talking to the boy about his hog, and if he had fun raising it and would do it again next year. (Yes and yes.) As they turned to go, his father made eye contact and thanked us most profoundly for helping his boy. So that was worth $4 a pound right there.
We paid for the hog, filled out the form that said we wanted Thayne to butcher it, and went on our way, feeling like we'd made an investment in something really important.
That evening, Dale went over to help Thayne load the animals in the trailer. They went off to a slaughterhouse in Brigham City (about half an hour from here). Two days later, they were back down the road, and Rusty, Farmer Phil's son who is apprenticed to Thayne, cut up our hog. About ten days after that, Thayne called us, and I went to pick up ham, bacon, chops, roasts, hocks, and half a freezer-full of the best pork we've had since we left Iowa.
So yeah. We'll do that again. Everyone wins, and we get bacon too... Now, the only problem is to figure out how to fit the cow in the freezer later this month. Guess I'd better get those chickens out of there, made into broth and canned...
This year, we were determined to help out some of these kids, who are learning to farm, one animal at a time. So we signed up for the Junior livestock auction. Here, all the 4-H animals are sold at premium prices, giving a helping hand to these kids. We had our eye on a couple of hogs that we thought were pretty nice, but thought we'd wait and see what happened.
The first animal on the block was the championship lamb. The bidding started at $3 a pound, and rapidly rose to $19 a pound. Uh-oh. Maybe we wouldn't be getting ourselves a hog after all!
After that, it quickly became clear that businesses were buying the champions, because it's relatively inexpensive advertising for them, at more or less every County Fair from now until the end of time.
Then the 'normal' animals started coming to the block. Prices were all over the map, and it took us a while to figure out what was going on. These were all blue-ribbon animals, so people weren't deciding what to bid based on the quality of the animal... Then a woman down the row from us bought a lamb. And her last name was the same as the last name of the child with the lamb, and we thought 'Oh. Of course. It's not about the food. It's about the child'.
After that, we had a blast watching bachelor uncles (who'd been having a few too many on a hot August afternoon!) get into bidding wars over lambs, hogs and steers. Grandparents would have their heads together, calculating how high they could go on Jimmy's lamb, and still have enough to bid up the price on Rachel's hog.
We watched as friends of ours---Famer Phil, Thayne the butcher, Curt the rancher---bid on animals that were going for too little. So we followed their lead. After a couple of hours of just watching, a hog came up with a nervous little boy, who was obviously doing this for the first time. Crickets were chirping as the auctioneer called numbers. The opening bid fell to $2.50. And we bid on it. That got things started, and the price quickly went out of our league. So we did that a few more times, until we reconsidered the maximum we were willing to pay.
Then came another little boy, no more than eight years old, clearly adopted from overseas. We bid on his hog, the price went up a few times, and then we won the bid! So I took the bidding card away from John, because you can never tell with him at an auction...
After a few more minutes, we made our way to the cashier. As we were waiting to pay, the boy's dad walked up to John. 'Son,' he said, 'this here's the gentleman from Bellwether Farm'. The boy was so nervous, but he presented us with a little gift bag of pancake fixin's. We made small talk for a few minutes, talking to the boy about his hog, and if he had fun raising it and would do it again next year. (Yes and yes.) As they turned to go, his father made eye contact and thanked us most profoundly for helping his boy. So that was worth $4 a pound right there.
We paid for the hog, filled out the form that said we wanted Thayne to butcher it, and went on our way, feeling like we'd made an investment in something really important.
That evening, Dale went over to help Thayne load the animals in the trailer. They went off to a slaughterhouse in Brigham City (about half an hour from here). Two days later, they were back down the road, and Rusty, Farmer Phil's son who is apprenticed to Thayne, cut up our hog. About ten days after that, Thayne called us, and I went to pick up ham, bacon, chops, roasts, hocks, and half a freezer-full of the best pork we've had since we left Iowa.
So yeah. We'll do that again. Everyone wins, and we get bacon too... Now, the only problem is to figure out how to fit the cow in the freezer later this month. Guess I'd better get those chickens out of there, made into broth and canned...
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Ride number two. And three.
I know! You thought i was done talking about Danni... But wait until you hear how amazing she is!
My fantastic trainer Trisha was here on Wednesday, and that lined up with Danni's every third day work schedule. Since I'm still learning about long lines, I got a lesson from Trish on long-lining. This was lots of little corrections to my technique, which just make that work better. Trish hooked the lunge line to the bridle, then had me belly up, slipping back to the ground after walking around until all the blood rushed to my head. Then she had me slide my leg over and get on. Danni was unfazed, as usual. We spent a very long time (well, maybe 20 minutes---it felt long!) walking around, with Trish gradually moving out on the lunge line away from Danni. What we are teaching her is that she's not supposed to listen to the person with the 'string'. She's supposed to listen to the person on her back.
It's surprising to me, the things Danni doesn't know. Having never started a horse this young before, it didn't occur to me that they have to learn what 'pulling' on the left rein means. I would pull gently on the rein, and she seemed to have no idea that it COULD mean something! And I would put my leg on, and she would just keep doing what she was doing. No language here!
Danni several times was frustrated. She would stiffen, and fling her head up. She knew we wanted something. But she just couldn't figure out what it was. Then she hit that point. You know the point. She started offering things. Is this what you want? What about this? How about this? And that's the point you are looking for. That's the point you want to encourage. So we praised every offering, but the RIGHT offering got so much more praise that it was unmistakably the right answer. And by the end of the lesson, she knew that 'pulling on the rein' means 'go that way'.
Danni had several moments when she could have taken advantage of an excuse to be naughty. But she just took a deep breath, and walked on. Trish got out to about 5 feet away on the lunge line, and Danni started to realize that instructions were coming from somewhere else.
So today (Saturday) was the next work day for Danni. We worked on the long lines, then John and Jo helped while Danni had her third ride under saddle. Huge improvements today in her ability to recognize that I was 'talking' to her. She made as if to move off my leg several times. She recognized the outside rein. She went the way I wanted her to, even though it meant John was about 30 feet away. At one point, she took a trot step. I said 'no', and she went back to the walk. Later, she caught sight of some kids on bicycles in the street. Her head went up like a giraffe's! But I sat quiet, and asked John to come in toward her, and pat her and reassure her, so she just stared. Then we walked on. After about twenty minutes, I slid off, and we praised the heck out of her, and gave her a bath!
So at this point, the plan is to ride her every third day from now until the snow flies. Then she gets the winter off. Next spring, she will begin to work in earnest. If we get all three gaits this fall, so much the better. But there's no hurry, really. I need to just listen hard, to hear what she's ready for, and then do that. This is what teaching and learning is really all about. Feeling your way, every time, as though it's the first time. Which it always is, for one, the other, or both.
My fantastic trainer Trisha was here on Wednesday, and that lined up with Danni's every third day work schedule. Since I'm still learning about long lines, I got a lesson from Trish on long-lining. This was lots of little corrections to my technique, which just make that work better. Trish hooked the lunge line to the bridle, then had me belly up, slipping back to the ground after walking around until all the blood rushed to my head. Then she had me slide my leg over and get on. Danni was unfazed, as usual. We spent a very long time (well, maybe 20 minutes---it felt long!) walking around, with Trish gradually moving out on the lunge line away from Danni. What we are teaching her is that she's not supposed to listen to the person with the 'string'. She's supposed to listen to the person on her back.
It's surprising to me, the things Danni doesn't know. Having never started a horse this young before, it didn't occur to me that they have to learn what 'pulling' on the left rein means. I would pull gently on the rein, and she seemed to have no idea that it COULD mean something! And I would put my leg on, and she would just keep doing what she was doing. No language here!
Danni several times was frustrated. She would stiffen, and fling her head up. She knew we wanted something. But she just couldn't figure out what it was. Then she hit that point. You know the point. She started offering things. Is this what you want? What about this? How about this? And that's the point you are looking for. That's the point you want to encourage. So we praised every offering, but the RIGHT offering got so much more praise that it was unmistakably the right answer. And by the end of the lesson, she knew that 'pulling on the rein' means 'go that way'.
Danni had several moments when she could have taken advantage of an excuse to be naughty. But she just took a deep breath, and walked on. Trish got out to about 5 feet away on the lunge line, and Danni started to realize that instructions were coming from somewhere else.
So today (Saturday) was the next work day for Danni. We worked on the long lines, then John and Jo helped while Danni had her third ride under saddle. Huge improvements today in her ability to recognize that I was 'talking' to her. She made as if to move off my leg several times. She recognized the outside rein. She went the way I wanted her to, even though it meant John was about 30 feet away. At one point, she took a trot step. I said 'no', and she went back to the walk. Later, she caught sight of some kids on bicycles in the street. Her head went up like a giraffe's! But I sat quiet, and asked John to come in toward her, and pat her and reassure her, so she just stared. Then we walked on. After about twenty minutes, I slid off, and we praised the heck out of her, and gave her a bath!
So at this point, the plan is to ride her every third day from now until the snow flies. Then she gets the winter off. Next spring, she will begin to work in earnest. If we get all three gaits this fall, so much the better. But there's no hurry, really. I need to just listen hard, to hear what she's ready for, and then do that. This is what teaching and learning is really all about. Feeling your way, every time, as though it's the first time. Which it always is, for one, the other, or both.
Friday, September 2, 2011
So much...
Whenever I disappear for a while, you know it's because simply too much is happening! I'll try to spend some time this weekend getting caught up on the news...
First, Danni. Whose registered name (with the Dutch Warmblood Association of North America, thank you very much) is Eridani. Eridanus is a constellation, representing a river in the sky. Beautiful.
I've been working on her ground manners, and she's improving. She will now not only pick up her feet, but also let me hold them for a few moments before I put them down. This is a huge step for a prey animal. I'm asking her to give up her only means of escape. It takes a lot of trust. So that's going well. She's gradually learning not to flip her head all over the place when I put fly masks on or take them off. She accepts the bit and bridle, as well as the saddle. This naturally leads to... Riding.
Last Sunday, I rode Danni for the first time. This was the first time she ever had a rider on her back, and it went EXACTLY the way it should. I waited to tell everyone we were going to try it until I went to get Danni ready. This was a calculation on my part about how worked up they would get, and also how many questions I wanted to answer before it actually happened. I honestly didn't know for sure what was going to happen, so I didn't want to spend a lot of time talking about it. I just wanted to try it with an open mind, and all my attention on Danni.
So I put her in long lines (this is two lunge lines, so one goes to the outside 'rein', and the person stands in the center of the circle---it more closely approximates what happens to the bridle when you are riding) for a little bit, to make sure she was listening, and let her burn some energy.
Then it was time to 'belly-up'. I led Danni to the mounting block, took off the long lines, and put her halter on over the bridle. I already had a grab strap attached to the saddle. John held the lead line, and Jo stood on the off side, reassuring her with petting and scratches. I climbed up on the mounting block and leaned against her, leaning over her back, and patting her side. She was bored. so I leaned all my weight onto the saddle. This is danger point one. If the horse doesn't trust you, they will panic when 10% of their weight shows up on their back. Danni just flicked her ear back, and tightened her core to carry the weight. I stepped off onto the mounting block. Then I put my foot in the stirrup, and draped myself entirely across her back, with my head hanging down over the other side. Danni flicked her ear back, but that was all. So I told John to ask her to walk forward ONE step. This is danger point two, because now she has to figure out how to move when her balance is different. It's like the first step you take with a loaded backpack. You will either figure out how to engage your core, or you will fall. Danni flicked an ear, and took an unsteady step. So I asked John to take two steps, and she took took two much steadier steps, and didn't even flick an ear. So three steps. And then several.
Then I said to John and Jo, I'm going to move around up here a little bit. And I pushed up from the saddle. And I patted her haunches. And I rolled a little this way and that. And I turned to my left, and swung my leg very softly over. And then I sat up.
And this is the really, real danger point. Because now what the horse sees is a lion, coming at them from above, ready to wrap their arms around their neck and dig their claws in. Danni barely noticed. She was so busy being petted and fussed over that she had no time to think about lions! So then we walked on. She takes up my whole leg, already, and she's only two. She looked around. She took some unsteady steps, especially in turns. We walked to the end of the arena. Then we came back. John and Jo kept telling her how amazing she is. I kept patting her all over her body, and getting her used to the idea that she could carry a person, who would do weird person things. We walked back to the top of the arena, and I slowly leaned forward, and then to my right, and then slipped my leg over her back, and then dropped to the ground. And then we gave her approximately a billion peppermints.
My horse is now officially 'broke'. She has made the step in her head that means she's learned to trust that it's ok if a 'lion' sits on her back. It was nothing like the movies, and everything like what it's supposed to be. Just another step in the long line of things for Danni to learn.
The next day, she went ballistic in her paddock when I got on Trinket. It's difficult not to interpret that as jealousy. ;) Especially because she actually WATCHES the riding. And sometimes imagine that she's making the figures herself, in the paddock. Haunches in. Shoulder in. It seems she watches, and tries it herself. Or maybe I just hope she does...
First, Danni. Whose registered name (with the Dutch Warmblood Association of North America, thank you very much) is Eridani. Eridanus is a constellation, representing a river in the sky. Beautiful.
I've been working on her ground manners, and she's improving. She will now not only pick up her feet, but also let me hold them for a few moments before I put them down. This is a huge step for a prey animal. I'm asking her to give up her only means of escape. It takes a lot of trust. So that's going well. She's gradually learning not to flip her head all over the place when I put fly masks on or take them off. She accepts the bit and bridle, as well as the saddle. This naturally leads to... Riding.
Last Sunday, I rode Danni for the first time. This was the first time she ever had a rider on her back, and it went EXACTLY the way it should. I waited to tell everyone we were going to try it until I went to get Danni ready. This was a calculation on my part about how worked up they would get, and also how many questions I wanted to answer before it actually happened. I honestly didn't know for sure what was going to happen, so I didn't want to spend a lot of time talking about it. I just wanted to try it with an open mind, and all my attention on Danni.
So I put her in long lines (this is two lunge lines, so one goes to the outside 'rein', and the person stands in the center of the circle---it more closely approximates what happens to the bridle when you are riding) for a little bit, to make sure she was listening, and let her burn some energy.
Then it was time to 'belly-up'. I led Danni to the mounting block, took off the long lines, and put her halter on over the bridle. I already had a grab strap attached to the saddle. John held the lead line, and Jo stood on the off side, reassuring her with petting and scratches. I climbed up on the mounting block and leaned against her, leaning over her back, and patting her side. She was bored. so I leaned all my weight onto the saddle. This is danger point one. If the horse doesn't trust you, they will panic when 10% of their weight shows up on their back. Danni just flicked her ear back, and tightened her core to carry the weight. I stepped off onto the mounting block. Then I put my foot in the stirrup, and draped myself entirely across her back, with my head hanging down over the other side. Danni flicked her ear back, but that was all. So I told John to ask her to walk forward ONE step. This is danger point two, because now she has to figure out how to move when her balance is different. It's like the first step you take with a loaded backpack. You will either figure out how to engage your core, or you will fall. Danni flicked an ear, and took an unsteady step. So I asked John to take two steps, and she took took two much steadier steps, and didn't even flick an ear. So three steps. And then several.
Then I said to John and Jo, I'm going to move around up here a little bit. And I pushed up from the saddle. And I patted her haunches. And I rolled a little this way and that. And I turned to my left, and swung my leg very softly over. And then I sat up.
And this is the really, real danger point. Because now what the horse sees is a lion, coming at them from above, ready to wrap their arms around their neck and dig their claws in. Danni barely noticed. She was so busy being petted and fussed over that she had no time to think about lions! So then we walked on. She takes up my whole leg, already, and she's only two. She looked around. She took some unsteady steps, especially in turns. We walked to the end of the arena. Then we came back. John and Jo kept telling her how amazing she is. I kept patting her all over her body, and getting her used to the idea that she could carry a person, who would do weird person things. We walked back to the top of the arena, and I slowly leaned forward, and then to my right, and then slipped my leg over her back, and then dropped to the ground. And then we gave her approximately a billion peppermints.
My horse is now officially 'broke'. She has made the step in her head that means she's learned to trust that it's ok if a 'lion' sits on her back. It was nothing like the movies, and everything like what it's supposed to be. Just another step in the long line of things for Danni to learn.
The next day, she went ballistic in her paddock when I got on Trinket. It's difficult not to interpret that as jealousy. ;) Especially because she actually WATCHES the riding. And sometimes imagine that she's making the figures herself, in the paddock. Haunches in. Shoulder in. It seems she watches, and tries it herself. Or maybe I just hope she does...
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