What is that feeling?
When the summer storm comes
With thunder and lightning and drenching rain,
And you take hay to the animals,
One by one
To show them the way
Out of the rain.
And you are soaked to the skin,
Underwear slipping down,
But you take the time to teach the young one.
And shake your head at the old one.
Back to the house, shivering with cold, wet to the skin.
Dropping wet clothes on the laundry room floor,
Grateful for hot water and dry socks.
And then this feeling comes.
Like the world spins a little more upright on it's axis,
Like all the flatware is in the right place in the drawer,
Like the copyedits are done, and all the i's are dotted and all the t's are crossed.
Like this is what you were made for:
Taking care, teaching, looking after, setting right.
And now your spine can relax, and lengthen,
And you can sit and listen to the rain.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Day 3
I had planned to lunge Danni again today, but when I got her out, J was messing with the sprinklers, so I had an opportunity.
I walked her around in the front, with the sprinklers going, cars driving past, dogs barking, all kinds of excuses to be bad. She lOOked, for all she was worth, and only jumped once, when the sprinkler spray hit her hind legs. Cutie. That's probably pretty scary, if you are a two-year-old prey animal!
Then I worked with her in the barn for a while, introducing her to truly scary things like fly spray, getting her legs brushed, and standing quietly in the cross-ties in the barn aisle. At one point, she got her foot caught on the stall mats, then whipped herself turned around in the cross-ties, and I was never so glad that we've made those break-away! So she broke them, and then was immediately quiet, and allowed me to move her back where she belonged and go on with her brushing. She forgot about her panic moment, and moved on. A good sign about how she thinks.
Tomorrow, I have a long 'ordinary day' at work, filled with the types of things that I am actively working to minimize or eliminate completely. But I should be home by 6pm, to spend a little time with this precious girl, and see what else I can find out about her. We've been joking that she is my 'midlife crisis'. I'll be 40 this year, and by the time Danni is really hitting her potential, I'll be in my early 50s. Which is maybe just a rationalization for doing what I want to do anyway... ;). She's spendy, but not THAT spendy. Just a little stretch, that shows what she might mean to me, as a present to myself. So I'll wait for Wednesday, and Trisha's input to make my final decision, but I've been working my whole life to be worthy of a horse like this one---one with the brain and the talent to go all the way to the top. I've been learning all those lessons: control over my emotions, control over my body, how to think of six legs, two backs, two necks as though they were one. And now I have more to learn, just to keep up. Isn't it great?!
I walked her around in the front, with the sprinklers going, cars driving past, dogs barking, all kinds of excuses to be bad. She lOOked, for all she was worth, and only jumped once, when the sprinkler spray hit her hind legs. Cutie. That's probably pretty scary, if you are a two-year-old prey animal!
Then I worked with her in the barn for a while, introducing her to truly scary things like fly spray, getting her legs brushed, and standing quietly in the cross-ties in the barn aisle. At one point, she got her foot caught on the stall mats, then whipped herself turned around in the cross-ties, and I was never so glad that we've made those break-away! So she broke them, and then was immediately quiet, and allowed me to move her back where she belonged and go on with her brushing. She forgot about her panic moment, and moved on. A good sign about how she thinks.
Tomorrow, I have a long 'ordinary day' at work, filled with the types of things that I am actively working to minimize or eliminate completely. But I should be home by 6pm, to spend a little time with this precious girl, and see what else I can find out about her. We've been joking that she is my 'midlife crisis'. I'll be 40 this year, and by the time Danni is really hitting her potential, I'll be in my early 50s. Which is maybe just a rationalization for doing what I want to do anyway... ;). She's spendy, but not THAT spendy. Just a little stretch, that shows what she might mean to me, as a present to myself. So I'll wait for Wednesday, and Trisha's input to make my final decision, but I've been working my whole life to be worthy of a horse like this one---one with the brain and the talent to go all the way to the top. I've been learning all those lessons: control over my emotions, control over my body, how to think of six legs, two backs, two necks as though they were one. And now I have more to learn, just to keep up. Isn't it great?!
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Dear God
An exact quote, startled out of me by Danni's extended trot. I put her on the lunge line today, and she appears to just float above the ground. When I asked for a canter, she stretched her whole body out, with hind feet overstepping her front hoof prints. She looked like her famous father, and she's only two.
By the way, she hasn't been lunged in months, because she's been turned out with a crowd of other horses. She mostly remembered exactly what to do!
Tomorrow, we will try lunging 'in gear'---I.e. With proper tack on. Almost the hardest thing is refraining from trying everything at once!
But she's only two...baby steps, grasshopper...
By the way, she hasn't been lunged in months, because she's been turned out with a crowd of other horses. She mostly remembered exactly what to do!
Tomorrow, we will try lunging 'in gear'---I.e. With proper tack on. Almost the hardest thing is refraining from trying everything at once!
But she's only two...baby steps, grasshopper...
Friday, July 29, 2011
And one more
A little closer. She's actually hard to get pictures of, because she wants to be right next to me in the paddock, which makes for a nice picture of a nostril or a shoulder! Not that I'm complaining. She's sweet.
Maybe baby...
This is Danni. She's 2, and we have her here for a week to see if we are a match! So far, she has totally charmed us all... babies do that!
She's an Idocus daughter, and a Titan granddaughter, and if she tops out at less than 16.3 hands, I'll be surprised. Not only does she look nice standing there, but she floats across the ground, like a li'l butterfly. With her breeding, she should be more than capable of the upper levels. And so far, I'm finding her mind as impressive as her body. She's completely unfazed by a two-hour trailer ride and all new environment!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Tastes like chicken
Ever since we got our first three chickens, oh, maybe six years ago, we've been talking about what has to come at the end. One of the big ideas we used to rationalize our chicken acquisition was the idea that "if we don't like having chickens, we'll just eat them.". Easier said than done, of course, for a couple of gen-Xers who had once made a mess of killing a sick, half-dead mouse.
I
And for the last few months, we watched the twelve new chicks get bigger, taking more and more room. The ten old ones slowly decreased production, with fading feathers. We knew the clock was ticking.
Because here's the thing. These animals are the backbone of our civilization and our entire food supply. It's obvious that eating meat requires the death of an animal. Other things, not so much. Maybe you think that eating eggs doesn't kill a chicken? Then you've never wondered what happened to the male chicks that hatch. And you've never wondered what happened to 'spent' hens. And you've never seen hens in battery cages, absolutely, positively stark raving mad; like Rochester's wife in Jane Eyre, they'd set fire to the place if they could.
And maybe you think that drinking milk is ok, or eating cheese, or yogurt. No cows get killed to bring you dairy products, you think. But then you've never connected the dots between pregnancy and milk production. And you've never wondered what happened to the calf that is born each and every year to each and every dairy cow. Hint: think milk-fed veal. A surprising number of really smart people that I personally know, have never made the connection between milk and babies.
Or maybe you think veganism is IT. You'll just eat plant products. But you never wondered where fertilizer comes from. And you never asked about the danage to the soil from heavy crop rotations. And you've never wondered about the best way to help a field recover from years of heavy crop rotations. And it never occurred to you these systems evolved, (and were bred, in some cases,) to support each other. The animals and the plants all form part of an inter-connected set of loops. If you pull out one piece, the whole thing becomes a rat's nest of tangles, like when you accidentally start the yarn skein by pulling the wrong turn. This is what the dust bowl taught us---that animals and plants go together. Modern, out-of-the-box thinkers like Joel Salatin are proving that imitating the intensive grazing of bison or antelope results in dramatic increases in soil fertility, crop production and animal health. That putting animals on the land is the BEST way to rejuvenate it. And then what?
All of which may be seen as a rationalization for what we did today, or as a genuine conversion, over several years, to a different way of thinking. To a vision of the connectedness of the world, in which I play a significant part in the life and death of its creatures. I could hide my head, and pretend I have no responsibility and no part to play. I could let all of my sustenance be gathered by underpaid, overworked people in horrible working conditions from animals living in conditions that I would not allow to exist inside my toilet. Or I can be vegan, and eat adulterated soy products, full of salt, and unpronouncable chemicals, made from soy obtained from farmers at prices that don't produce a living wage. Or maybe i could be vegan and eat only beans and rice, grown with petroleum-based fertilizers and huge carbon inputs in the form of tractor fuel, pesticides and herbicides. Or maybe I can be vegan, and eat only beans and rice produced on organic, sustainable farms. In which case they'd better have some animals around for fertilizer, and I'm back where I started... Or I can open my eyes, walk in the world, and be as humane as possible, as grateful as possible, while still realizing that infinity chickens is bad for everyone. We can't keep them all when they are done laying. Death comes to everyone, and it's not clear to me that it's more humane to let them get sick and suffer and THEN die.
So we killed a chicken today that we knew well. We knew her waking and sleeping habits. We knew what she was like when she was brooch, and when she wasn't. We knew that she would invariably peck the younger chicks fiercely on the top of the head when they tried to get to the water. We killed her. Then we ate her. She was a tough old bird, so we made broth and chicken salad out of her, and it will take us at least a week to finish every (truly flavorful) morsel. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't pleasant, and I would not say I enjoyed it. But it was the responsible, grown up thing to do. And there is satisfacton in knowing that she did not suffer. She had a really good life, and about 3 really bad seconds. I should be so lucky.
'NATURE is cruel. But we don't have to be.'---Temple Grandin
I
And for the last few months, we watched the twelve new chicks get bigger, taking more and more room. The ten old ones slowly decreased production, with fading feathers. We knew the clock was ticking.
Because here's the thing. These animals are the backbone of our civilization and our entire food supply. It's obvious that eating meat requires the death of an animal. Other things, not so much. Maybe you think that eating eggs doesn't kill a chicken? Then you've never wondered what happened to the male chicks that hatch. And you've never wondered what happened to 'spent' hens. And you've never seen hens in battery cages, absolutely, positively stark raving mad; like Rochester's wife in Jane Eyre, they'd set fire to the place if they could.
And maybe you think that drinking milk is ok, or eating cheese, or yogurt. No cows get killed to bring you dairy products, you think. But then you've never connected the dots between pregnancy and milk production. And you've never wondered what happened to the calf that is born each and every year to each and every dairy cow. Hint: think milk-fed veal. A surprising number of really smart people that I personally know, have never made the connection between milk and babies.
Or maybe you think veganism is IT. You'll just eat plant products. But you never wondered where fertilizer comes from. And you never asked about the danage to the soil from heavy crop rotations. And you've never wondered about the best way to help a field recover from years of heavy crop rotations. And it never occurred to you these systems evolved, (and were bred, in some cases,) to support each other. The animals and the plants all form part of an inter-connected set of loops. If you pull out one piece, the whole thing becomes a rat's nest of tangles, like when you accidentally start the yarn skein by pulling the wrong turn. This is what the dust bowl taught us---that animals and plants go together. Modern, out-of-the-box thinkers like Joel Salatin are proving that imitating the intensive grazing of bison or antelope results in dramatic increases in soil fertility, crop production and animal health. That putting animals on the land is the BEST way to rejuvenate it. And then what?
All of which may be seen as a rationalization for what we did today, or as a genuine conversion, over several years, to a different way of thinking. To a vision of the connectedness of the world, in which I play a significant part in the life and death of its creatures. I could hide my head, and pretend I have no responsibility and no part to play. I could let all of my sustenance be gathered by underpaid, overworked people in horrible working conditions from animals living in conditions that I would not allow to exist inside my toilet. Or I can be vegan, and eat adulterated soy products, full of salt, and unpronouncable chemicals, made from soy obtained from farmers at prices that don't produce a living wage. Or maybe i could be vegan and eat only beans and rice, grown with petroleum-based fertilizers and huge carbon inputs in the form of tractor fuel, pesticides and herbicides. Or maybe I can be vegan, and eat only beans and rice produced on organic, sustainable farms. In which case they'd better have some animals around for fertilizer, and I'm back where I started... Or I can open my eyes, walk in the world, and be as humane as possible, as grateful as possible, while still realizing that infinity chickens is bad for everyone. We can't keep them all when they are done laying. Death comes to everyone, and it's not clear to me that it's more humane to let them get sick and suffer and THEN die.
So we killed a chicken today that we knew well. We knew her waking and sleeping habits. We knew what she was like when she was brooch, and when she wasn't. We knew that she would invariably peck the younger chicks fiercely on the top of the head when they tried to get to the water. We killed her. Then we ate her. She was a tough old bird, so we made broth and chicken salad out of her, and it will take us at least a week to finish every (truly flavorful) morsel. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't pleasant, and I would not say I enjoyed it. But it was the responsible, grown up thing to do. And there is satisfacton in knowing that she did not suffer. She had a really good life, and about 3 really bad seconds. I should be so lucky.
'NATURE is cruel. But we don't have to be.'---Temple Grandin
Friday, July 8, 2011
Limits
July has started. In Utah, that means not only Independence Day, but also Pioneer Day, which is actually more celebrated here in Utah. The state legislature this year has seen fit to lift some of the restrictions on fireworks, allowing regular ordinary people to purchse and use fireworks that rise 100 feet into the air, and then explode. These fireworks are allowed for a week leading up to each of the state holidays in July. So for half of the month, we have been, and will be, having fireworks every night. The argument has been made that regulating fireworks is an infringement on individual freedom.
The first night of July, the fireworks began. Captain and Smokey went ballistic, barking every time one exploded in our neighborhood, and sometimes at explosions we couldn't hear. I went out to see how the animals were doing. Maisy and Harley were unfazed. Trinket and Music Man were alert, looking at each one when it happened, but not running. I stood in the pasture for a while with Kitty and Cleo crowded close to me. Cleo pawed (hoofed?) at my leg, and then reared up to put her front feet on my hips. I sat down with her, and she crawled into my lap and curled up in a tight little ball. I thought, 'guess I'm spending the night out here now...'. But the fireworks faded away before midnight. Cleo got out of my lap and shook herself off, and I limped back to the house with both my feet gone to sleep.
By the time the ACTUAL fourth rolled around, the horses, dogs and goats had gotten used to the noises and the flashing lights. From where we sit, we can see the benches all around the valley. After the town shows were done, the benches were still lit up with dozens of individual, at home fireworks. We got tired around 11:30 and went to bed, while the show was still going on.
We are lucky here this year, and have had a lot of rain. There were only three wildfires (that I know of) started by fireworks in the area. One burned just a couple of acres immediately southeast of our old house. The other two were both in the foothills in Salt Lake, and threatened the not-yet-finished museum of natural history, and several other University buildings.
All of which got me started thinking about the meaning of individual freedom in a society. (not that i expect to have anything really NEW to say on this perennial topic of college essays!) Clearly, this particular freedom for some impinges on the freedom of others. The actions of my neighbors impinges on my ability to run a business, feed myself, sleep, and protect myself and those in my care. These actions also impinge on the efforts of firefighters to keep us all safe. Looking just to the south, in Arizona and New Mexico, we see horrific examples of the effect of fire in the desert. These actions cost money. Every time the fire department has to ask the firefighters to work overtime, to be on call for the month of July, that costs money. Every time the fire department has to get called out to put out fires, that costs money. This year, not one but two Universities in the state had buildings that were threatened by fire. If those buildings burn, it will cost tens of millions of dollars to rebuild them! A wildfire on the scale of those further south has incalculable costs, by any metric you choose to measure. So I can't agree that 'freedom' means being able to do whatever you want whenever you want. That's not freedom. That's anarchy.
So then I was thinking about my own life. Several people have commented about how constrained we are now. We absolutely have to be here twice a day, at feeding and milking time. The further we go down this path we are following, the more we find other limits as well. There are entire swaths of the grocery store that we never visit. If we are out of jam, we are out, until we can make it again (and then we'll make more this time, so we don't run out!) This ground can support only four horses, in the oh-so-luxurious way we mean to keep them. I can't have more. Choosing to care about peak oil and climate change means that I can't buy just anyold car,but have to wait for the Leaf or the Volt. Our new refrigerator is neither hip nor trendy, and doesn't have an ice maker, but it uses only as much electricity as a light bulb. Most of these are self-imposed limits, but I find they give shape to my life. Identifying the boundaries that I'm willing to live within identifies what's important to me. Drawing a line around the outside defines the center and gives me a place to be and to rest. Within those boundaries, I am absolutely free to do what I think is best. But only by acknowledging those boundaries do I know what 'best' means.
And this is where it gets tricky and complicated. Because the boundaries mean that i have to make hard choices. I don't get to just have whatever I want whenever I want it. And my boundaries bump into other people's boundaries all over the place! We have (jokingly) been accused of single-handedly ruining the Ogden economy, with our thrifty mentality that makes use of everything we can get our opposable digits on. My choices for my animals impact other people in ways great and small, positive and negative. I'm sure my neighbors appreciate our efforts at fly control, but get annoyed at the dust that comes off of our sacrificial paddocks. Putting in a full size dressage arena makes my life awesome, but also means we have people trailering in for lessons and we have changed the drainage along the south property line. We do the best we can to be aware of how we impact other people's freedoms, and willingly take on the responsibility of trying to limit the negative impact as much as possible. With great freedom comes great responsibility. And maybe that's where the answer sits. Because as a culture, we seem at the moment to be obsessed with freedom, but neglecting responsibility. Being free, to me, means that I get to choose some of my boundaries. It also means i get to choose how I fill the space inside all the boundaries that are either chosen by all of us together (i.e. By the government), or the non-negotiable ones set by nature herself. It doesn't mean that I don't have boundaries. A person without limits isn't free. They are lost.
The first night of July, the fireworks began. Captain and Smokey went ballistic, barking every time one exploded in our neighborhood, and sometimes at explosions we couldn't hear. I went out to see how the animals were doing. Maisy and Harley were unfazed. Trinket and Music Man were alert, looking at each one when it happened, but not running. I stood in the pasture for a while with Kitty and Cleo crowded close to me. Cleo pawed (hoofed?) at my leg, and then reared up to put her front feet on my hips. I sat down with her, and she crawled into my lap and curled up in a tight little ball. I thought, 'guess I'm spending the night out here now...'. But the fireworks faded away before midnight. Cleo got out of my lap and shook herself off, and I limped back to the house with both my feet gone to sleep.
By the time the ACTUAL fourth rolled around, the horses, dogs and goats had gotten used to the noises and the flashing lights. From where we sit, we can see the benches all around the valley. After the town shows were done, the benches were still lit up with dozens of individual, at home fireworks. We got tired around 11:30 and went to bed, while the show was still going on.
We are lucky here this year, and have had a lot of rain. There were only three wildfires (that I know of) started by fireworks in the area. One burned just a couple of acres immediately southeast of our old house. The other two were both in the foothills in Salt Lake, and threatened the not-yet-finished museum of natural history, and several other University buildings.
All of which got me started thinking about the meaning of individual freedom in a society. (not that i expect to have anything really NEW to say on this perennial topic of college essays!) Clearly, this particular freedom for some impinges on the freedom of others. The actions of my neighbors impinges on my ability to run a business, feed myself, sleep, and protect myself and those in my care. These actions also impinge on the efforts of firefighters to keep us all safe. Looking just to the south, in Arizona and New Mexico, we see horrific examples of the effect of fire in the desert. These actions cost money. Every time the fire department has to ask the firefighters to work overtime, to be on call for the month of July, that costs money. Every time the fire department has to get called out to put out fires, that costs money. This year, not one but two Universities in the state had buildings that were threatened by fire. If those buildings burn, it will cost tens of millions of dollars to rebuild them! A wildfire on the scale of those further south has incalculable costs, by any metric you choose to measure. So I can't agree that 'freedom' means being able to do whatever you want whenever you want. That's not freedom. That's anarchy.
So then I was thinking about my own life. Several people have commented about how constrained we are now. We absolutely have to be here twice a day, at feeding and milking time. The further we go down this path we are following, the more we find other limits as well. There are entire swaths of the grocery store that we never visit. If we are out of jam, we are out, until we can make it again (and then we'll make more this time, so we don't run out!) This ground can support only four horses, in the oh-so-luxurious way we mean to keep them. I can't have more. Choosing to care about peak oil and climate change means that I can't buy just anyold car,but have to wait for the Leaf or the Volt. Our new refrigerator is neither hip nor trendy, and doesn't have an ice maker, but it uses only as much electricity as a light bulb. Most of these are self-imposed limits, but I find they give shape to my life. Identifying the boundaries that I'm willing to live within identifies what's important to me. Drawing a line around the outside defines the center and gives me a place to be and to rest. Within those boundaries, I am absolutely free to do what I think is best. But only by acknowledging those boundaries do I know what 'best' means.
And this is where it gets tricky and complicated. Because the boundaries mean that i have to make hard choices. I don't get to just have whatever I want whenever I want it. And my boundaries bump into other people's boundaries all over the place! We have (jokingly) been accused of single-handedly ruining the Ogden economy, with our thrifty mentality that makes use of everything we can get our opposable digits on. My choices for my animals impact other people in ways great and small, positive and negative. I'm sure my neighbors appreciate our efforts at fly control, but get annoyed at the dust that comes off of our sacrificial paddocks. Putting in a full size dressage arena makes my life awesome, but also means we have people trailering in for lessons and we have changed the drainage along the south property line. We do the best we can to be aware of how we impact other people's freedoms, and willingly take on the responsibility of trying to limit the negative impact as much as possible. With great freedom comes great responsibility. And maybe that's where the answer sits. Because as a culture, we seem at the moment to be obsessed with freedom, but neglecting responsibility. Being free, to me, means that I get to choose some of my boundaries. It also means i get to choose how I fill the space inside all the boundaries that are either chosen by all of us together (i.e. By the government), or the non-negotiable ones set by nature herself. It doesn't mean that I don't have boundaries. A person without limits isn't free. They are lost.
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