Clearly, I have been remiss in my blogging activities. This might have something to do with the fact that I have been as busy as buggery at work, staggering home with barely enough energy to collapse by the fire and be fed an assortment of home cooked loveliness by Sid or Noodal - for which, thank dawg.
Perhaps the most surprising development chez Luso Towers is that Sid "I'm French I am and I will eat and drink as much and as often as I like" Johnson has gone on a health kick. Yes folks, it's true. Long walks with the dogs in every wood and forest and beach within a 30 mile radius are no longer enough: indeed, he's had his bike fixed and has been out cycling in those same woods and forests like a man possessed. And now that he's bought me a bike as well, a whole new chapter has begun.
A couple of weekends back we went cycling in Bedgebury Forest. Given that I haven't cycled on an actual bike in more than 20 years and my prep was a rather wobbly sojourn around the yard one night after work to the background accompaniment of one snorting, bug-eyed stallion, it is perhaps unsurprising that I was a bit agog at the idea. This wasn't helped by the fact that the car park at Bedgebury was positively awash with clumps of professional-looking cyclists when we arrived, and Sid repeatedly saying "God, there's some really serious cyclists here", over and over until I barked "ARGH! That's not helping!" before retreating back into my spike-infested, angst-ridden bubble to contemplate the dash I was about cut with my obviously brand new, virgin bike replete with newbie wobble, blood-free knuckles and horse hair-coated fleece and clearly non-cycling attire.
Off we went, Sid like a man born on a bike, and me resolutely not. He roared off with something approaching gay abandon down the hills while I inched along, one hand permanently on the brakes and experiencing some consternation at the idea of riding in a straight line while CHANGING GEARS, let alone freewheeling at 40kph headlong down a muddy, stony track. That being said, it didn't take me long to gain some confidence and I soon caught the bastard on the uphills, repaying the favour by roaring past him going "wheeeee!" and "wow this is ace!". In the end we did about 9k and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
Next day we went to Dering Woods, with the dogs this time and a much more technical ride, as I believe they say in the trade. By technical I mean replete with hazards such as mud, roots, fallen branches and wayward Labradors. I'm not sure I'd have been able to do it without the experience of the previous day, but once going we had a fab time. It was Five Go Mad in Dering Woods, only with Sid, Rach, Dora, Willow and Franklin D. Husky instead of Julian, Dick and Anne, George and Timmy the dog.
Since then we've all joined Endomondo and have been enjoying a pleasant competition about who cycled the most. During the week my efforts must be confined to the gym where hitherto I have done 10k max on the bike, but with the goad of Sid pushing 14K upwards I did first 16k and then 18k, on consecutive days. Running has gone out the window for the moment.
However I think we've overdone it a bit as we did bugger all this weekend and everyone was feeling sub-optimal at best, so I missed my planned hack with Liz "balls of steel" Roberts on Saturday and also lesson with Mandy on Sunday. Argh.
Back at the ranch, today is day two of weaning for the Noms. Yesterday was really quite stressful as reported in the stud blog, but today things are more settled, with the Noms doing less fence walking and yelling. I went to see them tonight when I got home from work and they came running over for some reassurance and some hay. Little Nom started belly slapping whilst enjoying a butt rub and Gualter took the opportunity to get down and have a good roll. They were quite anxious first thing this morning but are slowly settling. Meanwhile the mares are doing well and hanging out with Q at the fence. Q finds any change stressful particularly when it involves his mares, so he spent yesterday getting himself in a complete lather, quite literally, running up and down the fence line. We've left T in his all weather area today to avoid excessive blokeishness; he's quite content there enjoying his own special horse TV (Dan's horses on the walker) and with his goatie girlies, especially after a good workout with Dan. I am quite relieved that it's done as I wasn't looking forward to it. So far so good.
Otherwise, we have sent off our application for the AI Technician course, a feat which involved a trip to get the forms countersigned by the vet to enable us to get our DEFRA Accreditation. I did this last week on the way in to work, arranging to collect the forms on the way back home. The surgery closed at 6pm so I left work at 5, on a mission to get to said surgery which, ordinarily, would be quite doable were it not for the array of bottom-feeding fucktards whom I had the misfortune to encounter along the way. Regular or even sometime readers of this blog will know by now that I have an ongoing passion for hitherto undocumented laws of nature, and here is another one which I intend to christen "Rach's First Law of Restricted Motion". In essence, this Law governs the phenomenon which states that the more pressing the need to get from A to B in a fixed period of time, the higher the chances of encountering a mind-boggling collection of sump-dwelling motorised conards whose single purpose in life appears to be to keep you from your goal. Even the expeditory effects of Project FM radio were not sufficient to offset these irritations. However. There is more than one way to skin a cat and, rather than get into a 2 and 8 by ranting impotently as I may well have done in an earlier life, instead I rang the surgery and prevailed upon them to leave the forms outside, thus facilitating a nice relaxing Radio 4-enhanced sojourn at my leisure, contemplating this new Law.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Back to work
I'd like to hunt down that fundamental rule of physics which states that one hour of time spent in the office equates roughly to half a day spent at home during the hols. Everyone returns to work bemoaning this fact and therefore there must be a hitherto undiscovered (or at least, unexplained) branch of quantum physics to explain this curious and deeply irritating phenomenon. If any of you Brian Cox-alikes out there want to have a stab at it, please be my guest, and while you are about it you could also check out why it is so damn difficult to get a good night's sleep the night before going back to work. Kthx.
My return to work goes something like this:
Do lates on the yard a little earlier than normal the night before, giving time to (a) prep suit etc, and (b) have an early night in view of lurgy which has kindly surfaced to add that special touch to my last day of liberty :shakes fist at sky:. Feeling if not ahead of the game, at least fairly on track, I then go off to bed early and am making cute snuffly noises by 10pm, snug in the expetacation of a good night's sleep to help overcome said lurgy. Not wanting to give Sid said lurgy, I have repaired to the den on the second floor. Excellent. Only to then be awoken at 2:49am precisely to a wild rattling of what I suspect to be the attic door, located just outside the den, keeping step with the howling gale that is blowing about the homestead. Mentally refusing to contemplate getting up to investigate, I toss and turn, trying to get back to sleep to no avail at all and, eventually, giving in to small cries of distress issuing from the transitional cells that line my unfeasibly small bladder, I get up and make my way to the bathroom whilst the gale howls about the house and the attic door rattles alarmingly.
But wait! Is that the sound of a cat in distress? I loiter on the landing, listening with the straining ear of one who would not see any of her cats in distress under any circumstances but who really, really doesn't want to have to go all the way down the stairs at this ridiculous hour in the morning when there is a gale blowing around the house and I need to get up in two hours. Moments later I realise Sid has fallen asleep with the TV on so, suitably relieved, I crawl back up to the den, taking care not to loiter beneath the attic door (which is partly ajar).
I know, I think, I'll read for a bit, that should do it. But no. I cannot quieten my mind from going over and over all the things we have to do this week, this month, this year. Arses then, I tell myself, I'll try to stay awake for as long as possible. This normally works a treat in all but the most exceptional of circusmtances, so I'm confident that snuffly noises will soon be issuing forth from under the den door any moment now.
But no. By now I am being consumed by that cloak of irritation and increasing desperation of one who knows she must get up very soon, who really needs to sleep and yet cannot. Bollocks then, the only thing for it is to read some more. Finally fall asleep somewhere in the region of 4:45am, just in time for the alarm to go off at 5. Marvellous.
Nothing for it then but to haul my outraged frame out of its treacherous pit and begin morning doings, for tis Noodle's day off and am on morning duty. Downstairs, greet the smalls, let the dogs out and make myself a coffee. Tea just won't do it after a night like that. Don woolly hat and coatage sufficient to combat the howling gale and step out into the breach, noting as I go how rain is blowing horizontally across the yard and the wind is practically strong enough to whip my feet from under me. Thank dawg for the extra ballast I've accrued from lapsing my gym doings over the hols, or I might have been somewhere over Northern France before I knew what was occurring.
Pausing only to remark to myself how the yard is strewn about with brooms, skipping out buckets, haynets and other equipment which normally has the grace to sit quietly at its appropriate station, I feed the boys, top up haynets and stagger across the yard with a wheelbarrow full of haynets and breakfast for the mums and babies, fully expecting them to all be huddled in the shelter, as they usually are in the event of any inclemence, and indeed how they remained even during the last howling gale which tore sheets of onduline up from their pile and scattered them liberally about the place, including up against the fence next to the shelter.
Mommy Johnson mode swings into action and there's nothing for it but to venture out across the field, thinking about how there's nothing on earth I'd rather be doing at 5:15am on a disgusting Tuesday morning than tramping across a sodding field, practically being torn limb from limb by a capricious wind, looking anxiously for my herd. And there they were, huddled in the corner next to Q, as they always do in the event of anything untoward, the very picture of equine misery picked out in the glow of torchlight. With a bracing cry of "come on you buggers", I turned back for the shelter and they all trooped in after me.This was not a morning to divvy them up into mums and toddlers to make sure everyone got only their apportioned ration of grub; no. Just get on with it so we can all go about our business and you can get into the shelter and dry off. I pile in with the haynets, skip out, check them over by torchlight and repair back indoors having closed them in to their all weather area, only to find that one of the dogs had done a protest poo right in the middle of the kitchen. "You bastards!" I yell, by now near breaking point, and schlep off to take a very hot shower, but not before shaking said wadded poo in Franklin's face, knowing full well it was him wot done it.
Having congratulated myself on making it through the garden in my suit without getting too muddy, I drive out past the shelter, noting as I go how everyone is charging about after the fashion of very agitated horses in a high wind. Argh. What if they injure themselves charging about? Nobody will be up for hours. Argh! But I don't want to leave them outside in that if they're not going to use the shelter. And Argh! I'm now suited and booted and as such ill-equipped for an equine rescue mission after a night of heavy rain. Park the car outside the gates, switch it off and go and stand there for a few minutes to watch, in the howling gale with rain still blowing horizontally across the yard. Fortunately they settle almost immediately, and I am able to leave the homestead unmolested by further indecision.
Arrive at work at 7:30am, and go to a day's work, consoling myself with the fond notion that I could maybe leave at 3:30, what with only having had a half ration of sleep and being still lurgified. Ops meeting at 2: well that needn't be a biggie, it's bound to run on a bit but I'll schlep off after that. Except that just before the meeting, a call in from the Help Desk issuing further mewlings of distress based on the fact that they were being beseigned by students unable to login, further to a pre-Christmas AD rollout in our computer labs. Argh! Argh! So we formulate a plan to combat this and we all go into crisis mode, dealing with our allotted tasks according to our roles and skillsets. Finally managed to get off about 4:15, having checked that I could be of no furtther use to anyone, with one last hurrah in the form of a story of cheese making from the boss to finish me off.
Get home to find that Sid has my lurgy after all and the dogs haven't been out as a result. Rather than risk a further protest poo, I decide to throw caution and most of my good sense to the wind, and take the bastards for a walk.
Sitting quietly on the sofa now trying to calibrate by how many extra degrees my throat is now throbbing, and marvelling that it could and probably should be a lot worse after all that. What ever else it may be, it is certainly never boring.
My return to work goes something like this:
Do lates on the yard a little earlier than normal the night before, giving time to (a) prep suit etc, and (b) have an early night in view of lurgy which has kindly surfaced to add that special touch to my last day of liberty :shakes fist at sky:. Feeling if not ahead of the game, at least fairly on track, I then go off to bed early and am making cute snuffly noises by 10pm, snug in the expetacation of a good night's sleep to help overcome said lurgy. Not wanting to give Sid said lurgy, I have repaired to the den on the second floor. Excellent. Only to then be awoken at 2:49am precisely to a wild rattling of what I suspect to be the attic door, located just outside the den, keeping step with the howling gale that is blowing about the homestead. Mentally refusing to contemplate getting up to investigate, I toss and turn, trying to get back to sleep to no avail at all and, eventually, giving in to small cries of distress issuing from the transitional cells that line my unfeasibly small bladder, I get up and make my way to the bathroom whilst the gale howls about the house and the attic door rattles alarmingly.
But wait! Is that the sound of a cat in distress? I loiter on the landing, listening with the straining ear of one who would not see any of her cats in distress under any circumstances but who really, really doesn't want to have to go all the way down the stairs at this ridiculous hour in the morning when there is a gale blowing around the house and I need to get up in two hours. Moments later I realise Sid has fallen asleep with the TV on so, suitably relieved, I crawl back up to the den, taking care not to loiter beneath the attic door (which is partly ajar).
I know, I think, I'll read for a bit, that should do it. But no. I cannot quieten my mind from going over and over all the things we have to do this week, this month, this year. Arses then, I tell myself, I'll try to stay awake for as long as possible. This normally works a treat in all but the most exceptional of circusmtances, so I'm confident that snuffly noises will soon be issuing forth from under the den door any moment now.
But no. By now I am being consumed by that cloak of irritation and increasing desperation of one who knows she must get up very soon, who really needs to sleep and yet cannot. Bollocks then, the only thing for it is to read some more. Finally fall asleep somewhere in the region of 4:45am, just in time for the alarm to go off at 5. Marvellous.
Nothing for it then but to haul my outraged frame out of its treacherous pit and begin morning doings, for tis Noodle's day off and am on morning duty. Downstairs, greet the smalls, let the dogs out and make myself a coffee. Tea just won't do it after a night like that. Don woolly hat and coatage sufficient to combat the howling gale and step out into the breach, noting as I go how rain is blowing horizontally across the yard and the wind is practically strong enough to whip my feet from under me. Thank dawg for the extra ballast I've accrued from lapsing my gym doings over the hols, or I might have been somewhere over Northern France before I knew what was occurring.
Pausing only to remark to myself how the yard is strewn about with brooms, skipping out buckets, haynets and other equipment which normally has the grace to sit quietly at its appropriate station, I feed the boys, top up haynets and stagger across the yard with a wheelbarrow full of haynets and breakfast for the mums and babies, fully expecting them to all be huddled in the shelter, as they usually are in the event of any inclemence, and indeed how they remained even during the last howling gale which tore sheets of onduline up from their pile and scattered them liberally about the place, including up against the fence next to the shelter.
Mommy Johnson mode swings into action and there's nothing for it but to venture out across the field, thinking about how there's nothing on earth I'd rather be doing at 5:15am on a disgusting Tuesday morning than tramping across a sodding field, practically being torn limb from limb by a capricious wind, looking anxiously for my herd. And there they were, huddled in the corner next to Q, as they always do in the event of anything untoward, the very picture of equine misery picked out in the glow of torchlight. With a bracing cry of "come on you buggers", I turned back for the shelter and they all trooped in after me.This was not a morning to divvy them up into mums and toddlers to make sure everyone got only their apportioned ration of grub; no. Just get on with it so we can all go about our business and you can get into the shelter and dry off. I pile in with the haynets, skip out, check them over by torchlight and repair back indoors having closed them in to their all weather area, only to find that one of the dogs had done a protest poo right in the middle of the kitchen. "You bastards!" I yell, by now near breaking point, and schlep off to take a very hot shower, but not before shaking said wadded poo in Franklin's face, knowing full well it was him wot done it.
Having congratulated myself on making it through the garden in my suit without getting too muddy, I drive out past the shelter, noting as I go how everyone is charging about after the fashion of very agitated horses in a high wind. Argh. What if they injure themselves charging about? Nobody will be up for hours. Argh! But I don't want to leave them outside in that if they're not going to use the shelter. And Argh! I'm now suited and booted and as such ill-equipped for an equine rescue mission after a night of heavy rain. Park the car outside the gates, switch it off and go and stand there for a few minutes to watch, in the howling gale with rain still blowing horizontally across the yard. Fortunately they settle almost immediately, and I am able to leave the homestead unmolested by further indecision.
Arrive at work at 7:30am, and go to a day's work, consoling myself with the fond notion that I could maybe leave at 3:30, what with only having had a half ration of sleep and being still lurgified. Ops meeting at 2: well that needn't be a biggie, it's bound to run on a bit but I'll schlep off after that. Except that just before the meeting, a call in from the Help Desk issuing further mewlings of distress based on the fact that they were being beseigned by students unable to login, further to a pre-Christmas AD rollout in our computer labs. Argh! Argh! So we formulate a plan to combat this and we all go into crisis mode, dealing with our allotted tasks according to our roles and skillsets. Finally managed to get off about 4:15, having checked that I could be of no furtther use to anyone, with one last hurrah in the form of a story of cheese making from the boss to finish me off.
Get home to find that Sid has my lurgy after all and the dogs haven't been out as a result. Rather than risk a further protest poo, I decide to throw caution and most of my good sense to the wind, and take the bastards for a walk.
Sitting quietly on the sofa now trying to calibrate by how many extra degrees my throat is now throbbing, and marvelling that it could and probably should be a lot worse after all that. What ever else it may be, it is certainly never boring.
Thursday, 22 December 2011
Catchup
I blame the lack of activity in this blog on a number of factors, mostly involving being busy at work and unparalleled levels of crapness. Also, we've had some ups and downs which hopefully are now put to bed at least for a while.
Tigre wasn't quite right for a couple of weeks in his right hind stifle, just as we were rocking along very nicely. He's back on form now and back in work; we've got some catching up to do but it's so nice to be riding him again.
Also, Gualter came in with a fat fetlock last Sunday evening, absolutely hopping lame. Quick call to the vet and we established with some flexions that it was not a fracture (argh the very thought) and could wait for Monday morning for callout. It's one of those fundamental rules of horse keeping that these things always happen at the weekend. Come Monday there was too much swelling for the vet to see what was what so she left us with a course of bute and vowed to return on Thursday. I'm so glad we put in that all weather rubber area because the stables are really too small for him and mum and he needed to be on restricted turnout, so it was ideal for that.
On Thursdsy the swelling was down but not as much as hoped, so he was given further course of bute and another week on restricted turnout, which meant everyone coming in and a really messy shelter to deal with every morning. However, the swelling was going down steadily and today he got the all clear to go out again, so the vet and I stood and watched as the four of them tore it up around the field to the theme tune of James Brown "I feel good". Hoping there will be no further problems from it - fingers crossed.
We're all set for winter now, with deliveries of haylage, bedding and feed over the last few days, and the corresponding drainage of the bank account. Still, record cheap vet fallout today - £36!
Tigre wasn't quite right for a couple of weeks in his right hind stifle, just as we were rocking along very nicely. He's back on form now and back in work; we've got some catching up to do but it's so nice to be riding him again.
Also, Gualter came in with a fat fetlock last Sunday evening, absolutely hopping lame. Quick call to the vet and we established with some flexions that it was not a fracture (argh the very thought) and could wait for Monday morning for callout. It's one of those fundamental rules of horse keeping that these things always happen at the weekend. Come Monday there was too much swelling for the vet to see what was what so she left us with a course of bute and vowed to return on Thursday. I'm so glad we put in that all weather rubber area because the stables are really too small for him and mum and he needed to be on restricted turnout, so it was ideal for that.
On Thursdsy the swelling was down but not as much as hoped, so he was given further course of bute and another week on restricted turnout, which meant everyone coming in and a really messy shelter to deal with every morning. However, the swelling was going down steadily and today he got the all clear to go out again, so the vet and I stood and watched as the four of them tore it up around the field to the theme tune of James Brown "I feel good". Hoping there will be no further problems from it - fingers crossed.
We're all set for winter now, with deliveries of haylage, bedding and feed over the last few days, and the corresponding drainage of the bank account. Still, record cheap vet fallout today - £36!
Friday, 4 November 2011
More on the lower field
So the updated to do list:
* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks DONE
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :) DONE
* digging out the pond DONE
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch DONE
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle DONE
* digging out the field shelter DONE
* layingstone and rubber matting in said field shelter TO DO
All of this is good, except that the field now looks like an absolute bomb site.
* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks DONE
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :) DONE
* digging out the pond DONE
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch DONE
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle DONE
* digging out the field shelter DONE
* laying
All of this is good, except that the field now looks like an absolute bomb site.
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Mostly concerning the lower field
It's been a while - am considering giving up blinking because three months seem to go by every time I do so.
Lots has been going on and I haven't wanted to blog about it until all the dotted lines were duly signed upon lest anything go wrong, but now that is done I can reveal the big news which is that we have after protracted machinations procured an additional five acres - hurrah! Really thrilled, as it takes the pressure off somewhat but also means that there is another whole raft of things to do:
* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :)
* digging out the pond
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle
* digging out the field shelter
* laying stone and rubber matting in said field shelter
So as can be seen there's a lot to be done as the land has been overgrazed and neglected, so there's weeding to do as well as discing and re-seeding in the spring. We've been out there all day today (and what a beautiful day for it) armed with chain harrow, axe and chainsaw, and it already looks a lot better. We've taken out the old boundary fence, redone the electric fencing across the access gate, chopped down the old dead wood, piled up all the old shit that was left lying around (including numerous pallets and tractor tyres), harrowed (and harrowed), and planned the next stages of work with young Pheel and his Pitt-alike colleague Richard who I've mentioned before and who'll be here on the 24th to start all the digger work, of which there will be about a week's worth. Noodle will be thrilled :)
Meanwhile the horses are all well, getting their winter woollies and enjoying lolling about in the sun while we all toil away on their behalf.
Lots has been going on and I haven't wanted to blog about it until all the dotted lines were duly signed upon lest anything go wrong, but now that is done I can reveal the big news which is that we have after protracted machinations procured an additional five acres - hurrah! Really thrilled, as it takes the pressure off somewhat but also means that there is another whole raft of things to do:
* installing a gate - DONE
* fencing the eastern boundary to get the neighbour's horses off it - DONE
* installing water to the two new paddocks
* sorting out the drainage in the lower field :)
* digging out the pond
* removing all the dead wood from the pond - DONE
* harrowing (and harrowing and harrowing) - DONE
* clearing out the bottom ditch
* fencing the remaining boundary, the pond and across the middle
* digging out the field shelter
* laying stone and rubber matting in said field shelter
So as can be seen there's a lot to be done as the land has been overgrazed and neglected, so there's weeding to do as well as discing and re-seeding in the spring. We've been out there all day today (and what a beautiful day for it) armed with chain harrow, axe and chainsaw, and it already looks a lot better. We've taken out the old boundary fence, redone the electric fencing across the access gate, chopped down the old dead wood, piled up all the old shit that was left lying around (including numerous pallets and tractor tyres), harrowed (and harrowed), and planned the next stages of work with young Pheel and his Pitt-alike colleague Richard who I've mentioned before and who'll be here on the 24th to start all the digger work, of which there will be about a week's worth. Noodle will be thrilled :)
Meanwhile the horses are all well, getting their winter woollies and enjoying lolling about in the sun while we all toil away on their behalf.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Since my last update..
.. I have been mainly very busy, and lots of things have happened.
The Good
All the horses now have a secure area of rubber-covered all-weather turnout outside their stables/shelter. Whatever the weather, they'll be able to get outside and stretch their legs without being confined to barracks. There'll be no more hacking out a safe path along the driveway from the stables to the picadeiro to get the boys out for an hour in times of deepest snow and ice, no need to confine mares and babies to stables or worry about paddocks getting trashed when they get waterlogged. Better for them by far and also better for us in terms of husbandry during those rancid winter months when everything is such bloody hard work and even the most steadfast and dedicated of owners start to wonder WHY they put themselves through it.
All the stables and the shelter have been rubber matted so we can cut down a bit on bedding and mucking out will be easier.
The younglings are doing extremely well and are a delight to behold.
The mares have had their first appointment with the dentist and were extremely good. I always wonder what they must think when they have the gag fitted and someone grubbing around in their mouths with a giant rasp which, let's face it, must set up some impressive reverberations inside their heads, but they were model patients and we were delighted. Needless to say, some very sharp teeth were in evidence and now they are no more. Which is nice.
Little Nom has had his first farrier appointment and other than the bit where he opted to keep flinging himself on the floor rather than submit to standing for said farrier (during which I gave thanks for the freshly laid rubber floor), it went really well. He is a precocious little swine wrapped up in the world's cutest foal body and although unsettling for all concerned at the time I think he learned a powerful lesson that flinging oneself around in a pre-teen strop does no real good. Gualter stood like a pro for his second every trim, bless him.
Q continues to do well on his regime, which now involves having his muzzle on during the day and free access to his paddocks overnight. Unfortunately lessons with Mandy have been thin on the ground lately due to conflicting schedules but we did come 4th in the dressage at home series she did (E44) without the benefit of the third and final effort during which we were primed to correct all the things we learned during the process.
T is doing really well in his ridden work even if there isn't enough of it and we had our first canter under saddle last week, very lovely and soft.
We had another Bento clinic, where Q was much calmer second time out.
Knickers is doing well in her weekly work with the boys and it's a huge help to know that they have good sessions three times a week. This is a godsend generally and will be particularly so when it's no longer light by the time I get home.
The Bad
About three weeks ago the boys were both extremely unsettled on the Saturday afternoon, especially Q, who was pacing and completely sweated up in the evening. I brought him in at dusk as usual to his winter paddock and closed the gate, just as I had for the previous couple of weeks. Only this time he either didn't register or didn't care that the gate was in the way and tried to gallop through it. Result: one stallion-shaped dent in the 12' metal gate :O and a very bad nose bleed. I've never dealt with an equine nosebleed before and it was quite horrifying - blood was literally pissing out of his nose and within moments of bringing him in, the yard looked like a scene from a gorn movie. Arggh.
No sooner had we reassured ourselves that we had stemmed the flow than a giant ripping noise emanated from T's field and we found that he was charging around with his shredded rain sheet flapping around his legs. Took a while to get near him to get it off, by which time we were wondering what the bloody hell was going on and what in dawg's name might happen next. We took a walk down the neighbouring fields to check on their horses and see if we could see anything that might be causing the disturbance, tooled up with our pack of dogs and a number of implements for self-protection just in case, but there was nothing obvious other than what looked in the pitch black like a foal that was yelling its head off, in the nearby camp of our travelling friends across the way.
I discovered the following weekend that the "foal" was in fact a shetland pony stallion who'd been liberated by persons unknown from a field a few miles away and mysteriously ended up at said camp. Turns out he was such a handful that they ended up calling the owner to come and fetch him the next day. So the general conclusion is that it was the presence of a small but forceful new stallion presence in the environment that set our boys off and caused the ruckus. Luckily no major harm done and I was both shcoked and extremely relieved that Q suffered nothing worse than the nosebleed and a couple of scrapes on his legs.
The Good
All the horses now have a secure area of rubber-covered all-weather turnout outside their stables/shelter. Whatever the weather, they'll be able to get outside and stretch their legs without being confined to barracks. There'll be no more hacking out a safe path along the driveway from the stables to the picadeiro to get the boys out for an hour in times of deepest snow and ice, no need to confine mares and babies to stables or worry about paddocks getting trashed when they get waterlogged. Better for them by far and also better for us in terms of husbandry during those rancid winter months when everything is such bloody hard work and even the most steadfast and dedicated of owners start to wonder WHY they put themselves through it.
All the stables and the shelter have been rubber matted so we can cut down a bit on bedding and mucking out will be easier.
The younglings are doing extremely well and are a delight to behold.
The mares have had their first appointment with the dentist and were extremely good. I always wonder what they must think when they have the gag fitted and someone grubbing around in their mouths with a giant rasp which, let's face it, must set up some impressive reverberations inside their heads, but they were model patients and we were delighted. Needless to say, some very sharp teeth were in evidence and now they are no more. Which is nice.
Little Nom has had his first farrier appointment and other than the bit where he opted to keep flinging himself on the floor rather than submit to standing for said farrier (during which I gave thanks for the freshly laid rubber floor), it went really well. He is a precocious little swine wrapped up in the world's cutest foal body and although unsettling for all concerned at the time I think he learned a powerful lesson that flinging oneself around in a pre-teen strop does no real good. Gualter stood like a pro for his second every trim, bless him.
Q continues to do well on his regime, which now involves having his muzzle on during the day and free access to his paddocks overnight. Unfortunately lessons with Mandy have been thin on the ground lately due to conflicting schedules but we did come 4th in the dressage at home series she did (E44) without the benefit of the third and final effort during which we were primed to correct all the things we learned during the process.
T is doing really well in his ridden work even if there isn't enough of it and we had our first canter under saddle last week, very lovely and soft.
We had another Bento clinic, where Q was much calmer second time out.
Knickers is doing well in her weekly work with the boys and it's a huge help to know that they have good sessions three times a week. This is a godsend generally and will be particularly so when it's no longer light by the time I get home.
The Bad
About three weeks ago the boys were both extremely unsettled on the Saturday afternoon, especially Q, who was pacing and completely sweated up in the evening. I brought him in at dusk as usual to his winter paddock and closed the gate, just as I had for the previous couple of weeks. Only this time he either didn't register or didn't care that the gate was in the way and tried to gallop through it. Result: one stallion-shaped dent in the 12' metal gate :O and a very bad nose bleed. I've never dealt with an equine nosebleed before and it was quite horrifying - blood was literally pissing out of his nose and within moments of bringing him in, the yard looked like a scene from a gorn movie. Arggh.
No sooner had we reassured ourselves that we had stemmed the flow than a giant ripping noise emanated from T's field and we found that he was charging around with his shredded rain sheet flapping around his legs. Took a while to get near him to get it off, by which time we were wondering what the bloody hell was going on and what in dawg's name might happen next. We took a walk down the neighbouring fields to check on their horses and see if we could see anything that might be causing the disturbance, tooled up with our pack of dogs and a number of implements for self-protection just in case, but there was nothing obvious other than what looked in the pitch black like a foal that was yelling its head off, in the nearby camp of our travelling friends across the way.
I discovered the following weekend that the "foal" was in fact a shetland pony stallion who'd been liberated by persons unknown from a field a few miles away and mysteriously ended up at said camp. Turns out he was such a handful that they ended up calling the owner to come and fetch him the next day. So the general conclusion is that it was the presence of a small but forceful new stallion presence in the environment that set our boys off and caused the ruckus. Luckily no major harm done and I was both shcoked and extremely relieved that Q suffered nothing worse than the nosebleed and a couple of scrapes on his legs.
Thursday, 1 September 2011
Good news and bad
Two vet visits over the last 24 hours have given us both good and bad news.
THE BAD NEWS
neither of the girls are pregnant :(
After all the effort (not to mention expense) this is extremely frustrating and disappointing. We're now at the end of the season so there's little we can do and the vets can offer little in terms of why we didn't have more success. We've used the best stud in the area for the boys and the most recommended amongst Luso breeding friends for the AI work but alas it was not to be. There are a few possibilities that I can think of, having discussed it with a number of vets and colleagues:
1) There was possibly some low level uterine infection present which would have made conception difficult. Our vets do not routinely do endometrial swabs (they will certainly be instructed to do so next year) and the absence of fluid is no indicator of itself as to the presence or absence of infection. However, Newmarket vets swab every cycle - ok this is related to live cover considerations but interesting nevertheless.
2) There was some problem with the AI process. The practice in question has a 60% success rate over the season.
3) There are some mares who typically only conceive every other year, and these are likely to be the very maternal ones. As it happens both girls are extremely maternal
4) They weren't good candidates for frozen semen. They were AI'd last year but fresh semen was used.
For next year we are going to install a dummy at home, do an AI technician course and collect the semen ourselves. The only good thing we have got out of it all is that the boys have been trained to the dummy. It will also mean that we can offer chilled as well as frozen.
Interestingly with the girls, the first vet who did their scans had to sedate Xacra, but the second vet didn't find it necessary. It was the first time I've been able to be at home for the scans but Noodle said the first one was quite impatient, which might explain Xacra's reticence. The second vet however was excellent. He also said often he finds horses are less well behaved when the owners are present, which I have heard before from the stud vet. As an owner I'd be mortified if that were the case. Both girls were excellent throughout.
THE GOOD NEWS
Q is back to normal :)
The vet who saw him last week was back today and the difference was immediate when he was turned out in the arena - trotted over to the mares straight away and with a quick free school was markedly better and back to normal in his paces. He also had no reaction to the hoof testers.
He's also lost some weight as a result of the following regime: out with the muzzle during the day, allowed to graze for an hour without in the afternoon and in restricted paddock with the least grass overnight, with a week's course of bute. We'll continue this for another couple of weeks (sans bute) and blood test again after a month to see what the inflammation markers are like. He can be back in work now too.
The farrier is coming tomorrow and the chiro next week.
So, disappointing re the mares but extreme relief that Q is back on track. The vet was very complimentary about him in terms of stallion behaviour, which was lovely.
And Sod's Law being what it is, both boys are now back in work and I have a lurgy. Splendid.
THE BAD NEWS
neither of the girls are pregnant :(
After all the effort (not to mention expense) this is extremely frustrating and disappointing. We're now at the end of the season so there's little we can do and the vets can offer little in terms of why we didn't have more success. We've used the best stud in the area for the boys and the most recommended amongst Luso breeding friends for the AI work but alas it was not to be. There are a few possibilities that I can think of, having discussed it with a number of vets and colleagues:
1) There was possibly some low level uterine infection present which would have made conception difficult. Our vets do not routinely do endometrial swabs (they will certainly be instructed to do so next year) and the absence of fluid is no indicator of itself as to the presence or absence of infection. However, Newmarket vets swab every cycle - ok this is related to live cover considerations but interesting nevertheless.
2) There was some problem with the AI process. The practice in question has a 60% success rate over the season.
3) There are some mares who typically only conceive every other year, and these are likely to be the very maternal ones. As it happens both girls are extremely maternal
4) They weren't good candidates for frozen semen. They were AI'd last year but fresh semen was used.
For next year we are going to install a dummy at home, do an AI technician course and collect the semen ourselves. The only good thing we have got out of it all is that the boys have been trained to the dummy. It will also mean that we can offer chilled as well as frozen.
Interestingly with the girls, the first vet who did their scans had to sedate Xacra, but the second vet didn't find it necessary. It was the first time I've been able to be at home for the scans but Noodle said the first one was quite impatient, which might explain Xacra's reticence. The second vet however was excellent. He also said often he finds horses are less well behaved when the owners are present, which I have heard before from the stud vet. As an owner I'd be mortified if that were the case. Both girls were excellent throughout.
THE GOOD NEWS
Q is back to normal :)
The vet who saw him last week was back today and the difference was immediate when he was turned out in the arena - trotted over to the mares straight away and with a quick free school was markedly better and back to normal in his paces
He's also lost some weight as a result of the following regime: out with the muzzle during the day, allowed to graze for an hour without in the afternoon and in restricted paddock with the least grass overnight, with a week's course of bute. We'll continue this for another couple of weeks (sans bute) and blood test again after a month to see what the inflammation markers are like. He can be back in work now too.
The farrier is coming tomorrow and the chiro next week.
So, disappointing re the mares but extreme relief that Q is back on track. The vet was very complimentary about him in terms of stallion behaviour, which was lovely.
And Sod's Law being what it is, both boys are now back in work and I have a lurgy. Splendid.
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