Wunderbar: mild concussion
Yesterday did not start too brilliantly, nor did it end on the most positive note.
My newest herd addition is a mare (adult, female horse) named Amalja that arrived here last fall. She is a Trakehner, which is a breed that originated in East Prussia about 350 years ago. Of course, Prussia is no more, but the Germans took over the official breeding of these horses and among their small number are some of the top Olympic mounts in the world today. There are less than 5,000 of these horses in the world according the the American Trakehner Association.
My maternal grandmother’s family emigrated from East Prussia. Cool coincidence.
My first fancy-schmancy horse (back in the early 90’s) was also a Trakehner and the daughter of the Olympic gold medal winning showjumper Abdullah. Another neat factoid.
I compete in several of the Olympic riding disciplines. Oh, the idea is taking root!
Amalja is directly descended from two Olympic gold medal winning horses. Her sire in Dressage, her maternal grandsire in Showjumping. My plan is to breed her to another Trakehner (either via frozen semen imported from Germany, or more realistically, through frozen/fresh coold semen from a stallion here in the US).
The issue? Amalja can really be a jerk.
She was in a stall for most of her life before moving here and was never really handled much. She is neurotic (many horses kept in stalls without socialization are nuts, so this is not too surprising) and something of a bully. Oh, and she is a relatively big horse, standing at aout 16.2 hands (which means she is is 5′5″ at the shoulder) and weighs about 1100 pounds.
Every time I go out to feed, I putter around with the horses. Checking their winter blankets, making sure that no one has an injury that needs attending, petting and fussing over them, you get the idea.
So, I work with Miss Amalja on manners. I lead her around a bit, pick up her hooves, make sure she gives to pressure instead of running me over, and end each session with some major positive reinforcement.
Forgetting that she does not care for any kind of foreign objects near her mouth, I made the mistake of trying to feed her a homemade treat last night (some students had stopped by earlier with a big batch of horsey cookies that they had made). Amalja wanted no part of it. With her head, she clocked me a good one in the forehead, dropping me to the ground. I picked myself up, threw the treat into her grain pan and moved on to the next batch of horses.
I have a big egg on my forehead. My left eyebrow is swollen.
Them are the breaks.
Horses are large, powerful animals.
Damn, that hurt!
Both the ego and the body are once again bruised.
Humility sucks!
anonemoose said:
I have really enjoyed reading about your adventures on the farm. It provides a glimpse into a way of life that some of us will never be a part of.
I hope we hear from you soon after your bump on the head from Miss Amalja. I’m a little worried. I hope everything is okay.
Chickens would be a good thing to raise a few of if you are so inclined. I don’t know if you eat meat or not but farm fresh chicken is pretty tasty. Having a steady supply of eggs would help make French toast a possibility whenever you want it. Do you make your own maple syrup out there too?
moose
January 2nd, 2008 at 8:55 pm #
Billie said:
Moose, I will eat chicken and eggs, but I think am too squeamish to actually raise animals that I will be killing. Call it hypocritical, but there it is! This farm actually used to be owned by a family that raised chicken as well as sheep… we had a constant stream of people coming out to purchase them for the first year that we lived here.
The business was sold to some folks down the road, and we do purchase our eggs and meat from them - that way I never have to see the chicken’s lovely faces.
The bump on the head is better, no permanent damages as far as I can determine!
January 3rd, 2008 at 9:08 am #
Billie said:
Maple syrup… that is an idea that I have tossed around some. Fortunately, it is tempered by the memory of the huge syrup operations that my father and grandfather both ran when I was a child. Struggling through snow past my knees at the tender age of 8 or 9 with buckets full of sap - every darned day - is not one of my favorites.
That is the thing about being a farm kid - you are forced labor!
The memory of the clouds of steam given off of the sap while in the evaporator and my grandmother’s fresh maple candy are some that I cherish though!
We don’t own many maple trees, so I guess it is a moot point (thankfully).
January 3rd, 2008 at 9:13 am #
anonemoose said:
I’m glad the bump on the head is better.
That is almost sad that you don’t have any maple trees out there. I know absolutely nothing about syrup making but would be having just a small stand of trees be more practical?
Do I understand that you grew up on a farm, moved away, and now have moved back? If that is the case, it would make for interesting reading for some readers (like me).
moose
January 5th, 2008 at 7:36 am #
Billie said:
What a good idea. I will write some historic info on the blog!
January 5th, 2008 at 9:05 am #