Global Colding: Frozen Barn Water

Yes, it finally happened. The Vermont cold was so sub-zero yesterday that my water line froze out to the barn. This never happened once with Athena. Jim says it's due to "global colding." And to the lack of insulating snow cover.

What to do? The line comes from the house and is well underground, unreachable. The house end is not frozen; we tested that. There's a working heat tape on the standpipe at the barn end.  So it's got to be below. Ack.

All I know is that we've either got daily bucket brigades ahead of us until the global warming cycles back in a couple of weeks or we use a garden hose stretched out from the house, a tentative solution at best until a thaw arrives.

I wish I owned a 100-foot length of my friend's new product, the Pirit Heated Hose. The inventor, Willie Ferrone, lives right here in Vermont, a couple of towns north, raises Labs at his Skyes Hollow Farm, and has a barn full of horses. After going through Frozen Barn Water over enough winters, he decided to design and manufacture a heated hose. And now you see it everywhere including on Amazon.  Go Willie!

Guess I'm off to rig up the hose. Those of you who can, send some warmth up to Vermont!

Do you have any frozen water pipe stories?

Stalling

Is our horse unusual? Chance, the Middle-Aged Morgan, does not like to go in his stall. He's an outdoor guy. But this icy Vermont night, it is currently 17 degrees at only seven o'clock, the wind is howling, and there were snow flurries all day so Chance has mini-icicles studding his coat, mane, tail, whiskers, and eyelashes.

Feeling sorry for him, I brought him into the sheltered, roomy box stall but Jim made the executive decision for an overnight stay. We know he'd rather be out, but we'd rather he stay in tonight . . . in the confined, protected stall where the pushy, noisy wind won't ruthlessly drive him around the pasture all night.

Since his arrival here on Mt. Pleasant two months ago, he has reconciled somewhat with the stall thing, I have to admit. Our place is familiar to him now, and as long as he has his premier hay (thanks Edie at Trumbull Mountain!) he doesn't pace so frantically anymore. Some fresh shavings and water, a thorough brushing and hoof check by his main man and devoted attendant, Jim, a pre-bedtime visit for pets, hugs, and one last flake of premier hay (thanks Edie!), and he is good to go for the time.

Chances are he will be rested, warm, peaceful, and eager to greet the day in the pasture tomorrow morning.  MORNING UPDATE: shavings all over his face, throughout mane & tail, and on his right side. A nice sleep...not standing up, very calm when led out to paddock. Good decision, Jim. We'll see what the weather is tonight.

What does your horse think about being in a stall?

Spending the Thunder

     Yesterday's torrential rains and high winds have passed through New England and are well out to sea. The freakish warmth of nearly 60 degrees and the warm rain erased most of our snow cover. My daffodils have emerged but their  brave pointy heads are in for a big shock when the Vermont winter says it's not over yet, baby!
     Chance is nearly beside himself now that the back pasture and lawn are exposed, revealing still-green, still-tender green grass. As yesterday's frightening winds have abated, this morning I knew it was time for some overdue groundwork to exercise the piss and vinegar out of him. Get the respect back. So I hooked him up: halter, my beloved double-sided lunge attachment that allows me to lunge from both sides without relocating the line around his head, lunge line, and my bright blue lunge whip with the long tail.  I am not sure I needed the whip because his piss and vinegar moved quickly up the scale to thunder level as soon as I turned him loose into a circle, but ready access to the whip (I only wave it and once in a great while give him a gentle reminder tap on his butt) is part of earning all-important respect from a 1,200-pound beast. Luckily, he is such a well-trained guy and I know enough to stay far away from  thunderous bursts of piss and vinegar, that he could safely blow out most of his pent-up energy with some good bucks, explosive farts, squeals, and short canter/gallops at the end of the taut line.  Then he put his head down, got down to business, and trotted beautifully, as usual.
     His reward? A good graze on the green grass with me atop bareback, guiding him to the spots I imagined he'd prefer. His teeth never stopping ripping the yummy blades, his rubbery nose and whiskers searching out the next tidbits, efficient as a machine, taking only one baby step when he'd finished clipping the arc his head could define, like a minesweeper.

     Now he's having a paddock nap in the weak midday sunshine with a tummy half-full of fresh grass. The thunder is spent. All is well here in this Vermont backyard where the mountains loom above us.

Freaky Winds

      Today a giant warm front barrelled into Vermont at about 50 m.p.h. The high winds sound like a roaring freight train with spooky overtones of whistling and whirling noises. I can't begin to imagine what being in a hurricane is like.
     The melting snow has uncovered last fall's leaves and branches which are being blown across the lawn and pasture where Chance is currently freaking out. He's a pretty stable fellow generally, we discovered as he's settled into his new home here with us over the past 2 months, but he most definitely does not like wind.
     Like all prey animals, horses survive by being alert to possible danger and by being able to run away from it. Today's wind sounds like a bad customer indeed, and invisible at that!  Can you imagine how nasty are the Tasmanian Devils he thinks are about to jump on his back and sink their claws into his neck? 
     The poor guy couldn't even finish his hay this morning. He'd rip out one quick mouthful and whip his body around to face the wind, chewing frantically but absentmindedly, with half of the clump of hay blowing away in the gusts. Just as he'd work up the courage to go back to the hay rack, another mini-tornado would arrive and the scene would repeat itself. When a particularly frightening burst howled through, he'd abandon his hay post and skitter around to the larger back pasture where he felt safer in the open space. I could put him in his stall, but he hates being confined even more than he hates the wind, so there it is. Hope he doesn't go through the electric rope.
     He's going to be 10 pounds lighter tonight from all his nervous activity, that's fer sure. Wish I could say the same about myself!
     What is your horse frightened of and how do you calm him?

Saying Hello: New Horse in Town

     Vermont. There's a new horse in my backyard, four long years since Athena's death. I hadn't intended to get another beast: all that work, you know, mud season, frozen water buckets, flies, endless manure. And the final heartbreak of saying goodbye.
     But my live-in mate blew my mind the week before last Thanksgiving, asking me to look at a photo on his computer.
     "Whaddya think of this picture?" he asked casually one morning, bringing his laptop over to me where I sat on the couch with my laptop and my tea.

     "Which one? Oh, well, it's a horse." 

     "Whaddya think of him?" he pushed. 

     "Well," I looked closer. "It's a very nice horse, a Morgan." I turned back to my screen.
     "You want him?"

     "Wha... ?" Shocked pause. "What did you just say?" 

     My mouth gaped open. He started to giggle. Then I narrowed my eyes and shook my finger in his face. 

     "Don't mess with me, that's not funny, mister. Don't. You. Mess. With. Me." I gave him a final, firm wag of my finger.
     "Really!" Jim said with delight creasing his face. "You want him? You want to go see him?"
     With that, I jumped on him, both hugging and punching him. For the rest of that day week, our house was punctuated with alternating screams of joy and stern warnings from me.

* * *

     And that's how suddenly I reopened my heart and took a chance on "Chance," the sturdy, middle-aged Vermont Morgan. Whom you shall meet in subsequent posts as well as read my other stories about these creatures, and about my wild, loving, fun, scary, and unforgettable experiences in the Horse World.
     Would you tell me about your horse? I'd love to hear from you in these pages.

     Thanks for tuning into this first post. Hope you'll check in again.