The story of a girl who bought the farm, the horses and a backhoe.
by Billie on January 19th, 2009 • One Comment »
I am not mad keen on car rides. I do not care to drive. If only I had a convenient, movable wormhole…
Alas, I do not. So, my friend/client Jennifer arrived at the crack of dark AM yesterday so we could take a road trip to the Milwaukee area.
Several weeks previously, a crazy woman and her friend had driven to my farm in a virtual blizzard to see a young horse that I was selling on Jennifer’s behalf. We stood in the biting wind watching the coming two year old trot and canter around with his pal Donarwind. We took him into the pole shed to groom him, and give the ladies a chance to evaluate his conformation and personality. I went well, the ladies were absolutely wonderful in addition to being well educated horsewomen. I really hoped that they would purchase Countero, as I knew they would provide a splendid home.
Within a couple of weeks a deal had been struck, so Jennifer and I were headed out to deliver Countero to his new home.
Suffice it to say, it was a long drive. No CD player or iPod, but wonderful conversation made our travels quite enjoyable (as did the 68 ounce cofee that I purchased at the first available gas station).
We arrived at one of the most beautiful farms that I have ever seen. The massive two storey home was constructed in 1862 from local rocks, with walls nearly two feet thick, and amazing details wherever the eye landed. There were matching stone outbuildings, lovely horses and ponies in their pastures, and a crisp white blanket of snow which brought to mind the images beloved by Rockwell.
The herd of Welsh Corgi’s that greeted us personified charm. Terese, the farm owner, met us at the end of the drive as we unloaded her new horse. The warmth that she exuded upon meeting Jennifer and welcoming Countero home may well have melted the snow upon which we stood.
We settled Countero into his spacious box stall in the beautifully restored barn, while Terese shared with Jennifer heartfelt thanks for allowing her to bring such a special horse into her life. She then led us into the house with an offer of lunch, which we happily accepted.
It seems Terese likes to cook on the weekends, and had prepared a huge meal of lasagne, salad, fruit, broccoli salad and brownies. The food was outstanding, the company even better. We lingered for hours over coffee enjoying stories about our experiences with horses, men, and life in general.
We left hours later than we had intended without a horse, but with a new friend.
The trip home was stressful.
We had no sooner gotten into the truck than Kevin called with a report that Duncan and the two Trakehner mares had gotten out and were running around the back 50 acre field. Soon the report came that another horse had escaped and the horses were headed toward the woods. I was in panic mode, more than three hours from home. Kevin hung up on me in a fit of anger.
I tried to contact him, to no avail. Fortunately I got great service, and started calling anyone I could think of to go and lend a hand in the recapture effort. Malinda wasn’t answering, Jessica was not at home, that left my wonderful and quite elderly hay guy. I made the call with some trepidation, but Ray rounded up his daughter in-law and headed to our farm. In the meantime Malinda called back, was in the area, and was also on the way to our place.
By the time rescue teams arrived, Kevin had captured the escapees and was in the house. Malinda called me with the good news. Kevin plied everyone with sugar and thanks.
We continued driving. Around Oshkosh, the trailer’s lights stopped working. It was dusk, there was traffic, the roads a bit perilous. We stopped in a parking lot and tried in vain for nearly an hour to get the lights working again. The best we could do was to get one of the running lights functional. Having run out of options, we carefully hit the road, stopping in New London to leave the trailer at the farm of one of Jennifer’s friends.
Of course this led to meeting all of the horses and dogs, being fed dessert, and quite a long stay.
By the time we arrived home it was nearly 11:00 pm.
I may have fallen asleep while brushing my teeth, but I did wake up in my bed this morning. Kevin was in the doorway telling me to come outside and look at my horse Mirelle, as she had two cuts on her jaw - one which Kevin thought was through to bone.
Rushing outside, I was relieved to see that while she did indeed have cuts on her jaw (likely a bite from one of the other horses in her pasture) they were superficial, and she was eating comfortably. Another crisis averted.
Did I mention that we have also had a foal born (Mirelle had a little filly on New Year’s Day), had a tractor that refused to start for several days (thank goodness that an Impala has a trunk big enough for three bales of hay) and a cat that had to be rushed to the emergency room again? It is never dull out here.
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by Billie on December 25th, 2008 • One Comment »
Last night, I was luxuriating in the depths of a warm bubble bath, when I received a most unusual phone call.
The voice on the other end of the line was panic-filled and breathless. I leapt out of the tub, dried off and hastily threw on several layers of warm clothes. Shouting for Kevin that there was an emergency, I gathered together hats, gloves, and flashlights while trying to put my boots on. Kevin’s visiting mother put her outdoor clothing on, and we were soon on the road.
Traveling in the dark on ice-slick country roads, I fought against the abject terror lodged in my throat.
Twenty minutes later we neared our destination, and I finally had a signal on my cell phone. I made a phone call, was given hurried instructions, and made for a little used dirt road.
Malinda, typically the voice of cool logic and as unlikely to panic as the mighty sequioa, had calmed down some and the situation was now well in hand.
Because her truck has not been starting well of late, she had decided to jump-start it and drive around the block in the hopes that it would start better in the morning. She drove around her country “block” and was stunned to see horses in the road. It wasn’t long before she realized that they were HER horses. Applying the brakes, she slowed some, but not enough to avoid striking her 5 month old filly Greta.
It was at this point that my phone rang.
All I knew was that Malinda sounded like I have never heard her before, that some of her horses were out and running down the road over a mile from her farm, and that Greta had been hit.
Back in cell phone range, I called Malinda to learn that Greta was seemingly fine, that a strange man had stopped to help, and that I needed to locate and retrieve Malinda’s truck.
I slowly drove the truck with Kevin following. About a mile distant I saw a truck with its flashers on, creeping slowly down the road. Half a mile later at a stop sign, I saw the vehicle ahead of the truck make a left-hand turn. Seated in the bed of the truck was Malinda, holding on to lead ropes attached to my horse Ashton (on the driver’s side) and her horse Lederhosen (on the passenger ride) with little Greta trotting loose between the two.
Within 10 minutes the convoy reached Malinda’s house. I thanked the older gentleman who had driven Malinda home, and ran off to help her to secure the horses in their pasture, with none the worse for the experience.
What could have been a disaster turned out to be another in the long list of “adventures” that we have shared as horse owners. My adrenaline level had been so high during the 30 minute ride to her farm that I was left feeling absolutely drained.
When asked how the horses had escaped, Malinda sheepishly responed that she had left the gate open…
Malinda, if you are reading this, there are nicer ways to get me to deliver your Christmas cookies!
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by Billie on December 18th, 2008 • One Comment »
It has been a fairly uninteresting past few weeks, but having finished chores early and enjoying the warmth of the space heater at my feet, I thought it was time to give a quick update.
Thanksgiving was spent outside of Chicago at my aunt’s home with a veritable bevy of otherwise unseen relatives in attendance.
To the surprise of my family, I spent a fair amount of time with my newest niece, 4 month old Avah. I cooed over her, fed her, handed her to her parents when she was in need of a diaper change, and was vomited on three times. When she launched a spray of rancid milk and rice cereal down my shirt I politely thanked her for providing me with free birth control and returned her to her mother. If I remember correctly, I did not pick her up again for the duration of the visit.
Niece Olivia, now 16 months (give or take) had learned to walk since I last saw her just a few weeks previously. My brother has sung to her since she was in-utero, and the child is fascinated by her father’s singing. Of late, he has introduced Waylon Jennings into his repertoire with Olivia joining in from time to time. Because we are a vocal bunch of siblings, and despite being nearly tone deaf, my sister and I joined Brad in his serenade. Our first set included Weezer, Johnny Cash, Bon Jovi, Seven Mary Three, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and Frank Sinatra. Some distant relatives that we hadn’t met (a stodgy scientist and his 12 year old son) joined us, as did my mother for the next round… the cacophony would have raised the dead, but Olivia thoroughly enjoyed herself. I believe that the rest of the family escaped to the backyard.
The next day my mother and her twin had arranged a surprise outing for the whole gang, a visit to Medieval Times. I was graciously allowed to ride along with my 19 year old skater cousin Geoff - my teenage doppelganger. Mom rode in the backseat. For our amusement, Geoff and I found the most obnoxious music that we could on the radio and pretended to sing along, loudly. We started with some rap, then part of an aria that we’d never heard, and finished with some kind of Mexican love song. When we arrived at the venue, my Aunt mentioned that she could hear our caterwauling as she followed us in her car.
We ate lunch with our hands and watched some very dishy young men ride around (poorly - to my trained eye) on horses. Even little Olivia and Avah were awed by the spectacle and uttered not a sound. Kevin’s mother stole her pewter dessert plate…and my sister locked her keys in her car, but aside from that, it was a delightful way to spend an afternoon.
The next week was quiet, until Ramses (the Great Dane) went into kidney failure and had to be put to sleep. While not entirely unexpected, as he was close to 9 years old, it added to the already long list of this year’s heartbreak.
Starting a new job has helped to lift my spirits some, and is a nice affirmation. In the midst of week 5, I find that I get along well with most everyone and am thoroughly enjoying the older gentleman that brings me a cup of fresh brewed, flavored coffee each morning. Such a simple and lovely gesture makes arriving at work each morning a delight.
Last weekend convinced my mother to allow me to invade her home in the Dells in order to make holiday cookies. She was a little bit reluctant after the incredible mess that we had made with the caramel apples, but agreed with only a little arm-twisting. I purchased already cut-out cookies and hit the road with my box of sprinkles.
Finding that I didn’t much care for the snowman shape included in the assortment of cookies, I decided to trim off their tophats and make them resemble less Frosty the snowman, whom I find creepy as hell. Still not liking the results, I went online and found a picture of a cartoon character that amuses me and convinced my artistic mother to help me to reshape the snowmen into the cartoon’s likeness.
Many hours of cutting, sculpting, and baking followed. In the morn, we iced and sprinkled traditional trees, stars and South Park’s Mr. Hanky the Christmas poo. It is amazing how well he turned out!
On the way home, I delivered boxes of cookies and homemade caramels to my brother, sister, and a couple of friends. Mr. Hanky was a huge hit!
Back in real life, with the cold the tractor declined to start for a couple of days. Being a resourceful woman, I hauled hay and grain in the car. I am sure passers-by though me insane, but it got the job done! I swaddled the tractor in blankets, made sure that the oil pan heater was plugged in, hooked up the battery charger, and bought several bottles of starting fluid to prepare for the next time that I needed to feed. Unfortunately, 4 cans of starter fluid and a day later, the tractor still wouldn’t start. I plugged a space heater in and pointed it at the tractor, then hopped into the car to feed horses.
Tonight, after yet another trip to get starter fluid at Fleet Farm, I was gathering up grain buckets, when I thought I saw movement in one of them. Thinking it was just some stray grain pellets rolling around, I turned on my headlamp (yes, I wear a miner’s headlamp when I feed horses at night) and saw an adorable little field mouse in the bucket. Not thinking, I reached my gloved hand into the bucket to remove the mouse, and was incredibly surprised to feel the rodent scurrying up my sleeve. Not only was it up my sleeve, it was beneath my coverall type snowsuit and under the hooded sweatshirt that I was wearing beneath it. Now, here I must interject a fact about this particular snowsuit… it was designed for men, and is not the greatest fit in the chest, were I am endowed a little bit too well. The removal of this snowsuit necessitates that I shimmy and wriggle while flailing my arms about. Not a possibility with a stray mouse up my sleeve. I tried to reach down the neck of my sweatshirt to shoo the errant mouse out, to no avail. Next, I tried to coax out through the neck hole by doing a little hoppity dance. No dice. I resorted to going outside, breaking a stick off of the elder tree and shoving it through the neckline of my sweatshirt and down my sleeve. At this point the mouse and I amicably parted ways. Were it any kind of arachnid, I am certain that you would have heard the screams in the nether regions of the galaxy. Fortunately, I am not afraid of or offended by mice, so long as they do not reside in my house.
After all of this excitement, I was delighted to start my now warm tractor and feed the horses. The automatic waterers held liquid water rather than ice (hallelujah, my last burst of inspiration to winterize them seems to be working), the horses were all in their assigned pastures, and chores were a breeze.
With a smile of satisfaction, I swaddled the tractor back up in his blankets, headed into the house and called it a good day.
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by Billie on November 12th, 2008 • One Comment »
Last night I had dinner at a new restaurant with a good friend. The simple experience has helped to banish, to some degree, the overwhelming feelings of guilt and despair that I have been feeling. Friends are such a wonderful asset.
I am frustrated to find that I am now waking well before the sun rises in fear that something has happened to one of the horses. I bolt out of bed before 5:00 each morning wearing my pyjamas and carrying a flashlight to check on everyone. The horses must think that I have gone crazy, but appreciate being fed their breakfast unexpectedly early.
Yesterday, I spent the entire day outdoors preparing the farm for winter. My trusty tractor has been my companion as I drive around the farm picking up the logs, jump standards and jump poles that saw far too little use this summer. I planted a few bulbs along the driveway and cut back the little strip that I call a garden. There were still a few apples on the trees that I picked and distributed to the horses.
I welcomed the snow that was falling as it covered the pools of blood in Lerus and Duncan’s pasture.
Duncan is adjusting to life on his own for the time being, though he paces the fence and calls to the other horses. Tomorrow morning my client is bringing her two year old gelding, Boaz, over to live with Duncan. The boys have traveled to shows together and are close in age and size, so I am hoping both will be happy with the arrangement.
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by Billie on November 10th, 2008 • 4 Comments »
Election night was a wonderful one, for several reasons. I welcomed the news that Obama became our President Elect, while also welcoming into the world two lovely kittens.
The kittens came as something of a surprise since Ruby is not allowed outdoors and did not show her pregnancy. I had taken in over a dozen cats to be spayed and neutered, Ruby was the last intact cat at our place, scheduled for spaying in less than two weeks…
We tucked mommy and babies into their box in a quiet corner of the downstairs bathroom, kept the doors closed, and prepared for the fun of watching them grow up, then sending them off to friends that had already lined up to take them once they were weaned.
On Wednesday I woke before the dawn. My bedside clock read 3:17 am. From a distance I heard the clicking sound of toenails on lineoleum… the fog in my mind quickly cleared as I leapt into the bathroom. One of the doors must not have been closed completely, and my jack russell terrier was in the bathroom, with the little female kitten lying in a heap at his feet, the other in the box with its mother, also deceased. Ruby was completely oblivious to the situation as she lay curled around the little male, purring contentedly.
Kevin put Ruby and her kittens upstairs to give her time to understand what had happened. By 6:00 she was crying piteously, at which point Kevin performed a somber burial.
On Friday, I was laid off.
This morning, I went out to feed the horses only to find that pony Hyacinth had escaped her pasture.
I fed her pasturemates while Hyacinth abled over to me, waiting for me to put her back in her turnout. She drank a little water, and breakfasted with her friends.
When I went to Duncan and Lerus’s pasture, I was greeted with Duncan standing at the gait waiting impatiently for his grain. Lerus was lying down - a red flag. This horse is not one that spends much time lying down, and as soon as she sees a person she typically rises quickly. I saw that part of the fence was lying on the ground, then saw the blood on Lerus’s right hind leg. Without even finishing the morning feeding, I sprinted into the house to call the veterinarian.
The news was the worst it could be. Lerus seems to have tried to kick at Hyacinth through the fence, which wrapped around her leg, severing her extensor tendon and damaging the joint capsule of her hock. At best we could take her to the University hospital in Madison and hope that she would beat the 20% odds of survivial. Dr. Margaret, being a fellow horseperson, advised that we euthanize her, to spare her any further suffering. She lay down and quietly went to sleep.
I have escaped into the house for now, Kevin is fixing the pasture fence while Duncan nuzzles his friend trying to wake her. A man is coming shortly to remove her body as our backhoe is out of commission.
This afternoon I will make a trip to the home of one of my clients to pick up her young gelding to act as a new companion to Duncan.
It has been a really rough week.
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by Billie on October 26th, 2008 • 4 Comments »
I ran away from home yesterday… to my mother’s comfortable little nest in WI Dells.
For the drive, I turned my introspection off, plugged Johnny Cash’s American III album into the CD player and sang along. I stopped at Starbucks (cinnamon dolce lattes are a balm for the soul), purchased a huge sack of bagels (since I don’t know where to find good bagels in Wausau these days) and just cruised.
I was invited to my mother’s boyfriend’s family birthday dinner - and actually accepted. I had a hard time connecting with any of the adults, but had a terriffic time being taught to play Wii games by the under-10 set. I am not a bowler in real life, but I rocked it on the Wii.
We arrived back at mother’s with a 12 year old fellow in tow, to make caramel apples. Two hours and an incredible mess later, we had created two dozen apples liberally slathered with caramel and nuts. We laughed as my mother bit into one, still warm, leaving behind a mess of stringy caramel on her face, hands, and clothing. It stuck to her teeth, leaving her unable to communicate except through a series of grunts. We brought out cameras to capture the late-night silliness. We then melted both milk and white chocolate which we then flung with great enthusiasm all over the apples to provide that upscale decorative touch.
This morning, we woke to apples denuded of their caramel and chocolate - somehow it had slid off during the night. Rather than trying to actually remedy the problem, we buttered our hands and packed the messy puddles of goo back onto the apples - Martha Stuart be damned. We also coated a pair of small onions in the confection for special recipients…
This was a really nice, short break from routine, for which I am truly grateful.
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by Billie on October 24th, 2008 • 4 Comments »
Jane Smith said:
Why should today be any different then yesterday or tomorrow. It seems like you are always thinking only about yourself and how things affect you.
October 24th, 2008 at 9:06 am
This lovely comment was left for me yesterday, and is a clear illustration of many of my frustrations.
I know who the pseudonym “Jane Smith” belongs to - she is a relative of Kevin’s. It is not the first time that she has left a vicious remark on this blog. She feels compelled to judge me based on two meetings, but has never taken one moment to get to know me as a person. This type of passive-aggressive action really pisses me off, which I am sure was the reaction that the writer had hoped for. She is not a nice person, and I am glad that to know that I am never likely to see her again in my life. Why she feels a continued need to interject herself into my life is a mystery to me.
My friends and colleagues know me as a very giving person. I tend to lack the ability to say no when asked for any kind of help. Rarely do I ask for anything in exchange. I run myself ragged trying to please others. I am a veritable island.
Yesterday I was very sad. Today I am sad. My cat, Hugo is dead. Don’t I have a right to feel and express my emotions?
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by Billie on October 23rd, 2008 • 4 Comments »
Yesterday was not a good day for several reasons. Today has improved my outlook not at all.
From my upstairs office window I look out at the traffic passing by, the trees blowing in the strong north wind, and witness twilight silently falling.
I have lately come to realize that honesty comes with its own set of rules, regulations, and contingencies depending on the subject at hand and the person dispensing the commodity.
My preferred brand of honesty involves removing any filters (maintaining a semblance of kindness when possible), laying the proverbial cards on the table.
It seems others do not share this idea, which frustrates me to absolutely no end. No wonder I prefer my animals - they do not employ subterfuge.
I need a break. To get away. To cultivate new friendships. To see Sunspot more frequently. To watch old Star Trek episodes late into the night. To revisit the Dali Lama’s works. To meditate each day. To think about me for a change.
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by Billie on October 19th, 2008 • One Comment »
When I sit still, I feel as though I am in the captain’s chair hurtling through space at warp speed.
The past weeks have been a blur - with preparations for a first time visit from clients, preparing for and attending the season’s last horse show (where I was fortunate enough to win both Grand and Reserve Grand Champion awards with Solarwind and Boaz, respectively), building yet another loafing shed for one of the pastures, starting Solarwind under saddle, spending some stolen moments with the Lad when he is in need of a friendly ear, the list goes on longer than I care to even remember.
For the past week, I have been at my hay guy Ray’s home, in fact I just returned to my own home a few short minutes ago. I am covered in a fine layer of dust with aching muscles and the strong desire to simply take a nap.
In exchange for Ray’s work to bale hay at my place, my father and I drove the backhoe over to his farm and began digging trenches for water lines. Several days, and 350 feet of trenches cut through clay and rock ledges passed not without incident. An hydraulic hose began leaking expensive English (I kid you not) hydraulic fluid at a fairly alarming rate. The water pump is dying. Cutting through chip rock caused an episode of overheating in both the machine and my father. Fortunately, Thursday was the last day of digging, so my father is back at his own home.
The light at the end of this tunnel is my 5′5″, 70 year old hay guy. This man is one of the most beautiful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He very quickly became aware of the hyper-critical manner in which my father addresses me and confided that his relationship with his own father was very similar. Because of this Ray, like myself, made the conscious decision not to have children of his own. He is now the stepfather of a 45 year old woman due to his late life marriage (his first - at 57 years of age). He is the adoring, patient and kind grandfather of two small children whom he cares for after school until their parents are home from work.
Ray and I work easily and naturally together. We talk in quiet, confidential tones about our nearly parallel lives growing up on Wisconsin farms, never being able to understand or live up to the expectations of our parents. The way carefully chosen friends have helped us both to survive. Leaning on one another literally as well as figuratively to get through the project and life.
Through countless days of climbing ladders far into the warm earth, shoveling rocks and clay until my hands are blistered, my muscles screaming for relief, and a wardrobe of clothing infused with red clay, I have gained so much.
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by Billie on September 22nd, 2008 • One Comment »
My friend’s father is named Darwin.
To the best of my understanding, their family doesn’t really believe in evolution.
Interesting.
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