The Fields Daily Farm Blog

Staring at Mares

2011-02-12T16:14:00.000-05:00

So, the Indians have become restless and are calling to ask when we are going to be live on MareStare this year. Well- soon enough the halls of the foaling barn at Fields Quarter Horses will be re-opened to everyone! We've already delivered 3 healthy beautiful Chevy foals this year and are expecting the 4th next week. We've been able to have the benefit of real live human barn eyes for our own mares and foals so far.

But, we've missed sharing our birthings with the rest of the world and will be going live in the next couple of weeks. There are 4 mares scheduled to foal during March so there should be plenty of action! See you soon...

The Winds of Change...

2011-01-18T09:19:00.000-05:00

Another year has come and gone at Fields Quarter Horses...the winds of change have blown quite a lot this year. As we begin 2011, there are some missing pieces at FQH. Gary Trubee leaves us today to return to his beloved Ohio- the wilds there are calling him home. Amber moved on this past Fall and is currently pursuing her horse dreams in a different venue.

In the words of the great Bob Marley (singer/songwriter in case you were wondering) "...as it was in the beginning...so shall it be in the end," comes to mind here. In the beginning it was Wayne, Khris, and Brittney (and Tara too!) with a love for horses and a common bond in our desire to breed great ones. Today, that remains the same.

We will take our time and look for the right professional to welcome into our barn. In the meantime, Chevy continues to woo his ladies (with the help of Rood and Riddle, and Drs. Mather and Howard). We foal mares by the moonlight and tend our dogs and pets by the day. For a look at the broad spectrum that shines over our lives, here are links to our different websites.

See you soon- I'm in the mood to blog again so I'll be back before you know it!

http://www.petropolisllc.com/
http://www.caninecompanionky.com/
http://www.fieldshorses.com/

And don't forget to visit us on Facebook! Khris, Brittney, Chevy, and each Kennel have their own pages now.

There's No Place Like Home

2010-09-21T14:58:00.000-04:00

It's good to have everyone together again- for at least a little while! The past few weeks have been hectic. All the humans have scurried around here going about our human-style business- horses and dogs. Meanwhile the animals have carried on business as usual.

Gary and Amber made a journey into the mountains of West Virgina to the West Virginia and Mountain State Futurities- they brought home several Championships! Tara's horse Chevromotion (known as Kramer) performed well for both Tara and Amber and a good time was had by all. Back at the farm, the preparations for the Congress Super Sale continued as well as general horsekeeping such as Fall vaccines and pregnant mare checks.

Wayne had business which called for a short trip to California leaving Sheri and I to hold the fort down at Canine Companion. Although it was nearly a full house at the dog hotel, everything ran along just fine. Brittney even found time to move into her first apartment AND help out at the kennel and barn while everyone was scattered hither and yon.

So, the beginning days of this week find us all back in our regular roles- dogs, horses, and people alike. We are expecting a visit from mare owner Christa today and she will meet her 2010 foal Vegas for the first time. Like a stage parent, I've prepped Vegas for her grand appearance and am anxiously hoping that she will hit her cues and make me proud!

Oh, and on Sunday- I stepped back into an old set of shoes when I (together with an exciting group of other ladies) repurchased a large dog kennel and grooming shop that Wayne and I formerly owned. I have a strange sense of deja vu as I tabulate budgets, make a list of repairs, and begin an old journey anew. But, rest assured, there will be a lot of new faces and animals to appear in future blogs! For now I'm glad that we are back into our regular routine- there certainly is no place like home.

Ten Hearts

2010-09-17T10:59:00.000-04:00

I have been doing some extensive house cleaning recently. A friend recently suggested that I review my personal gratitude list. When I did so, I realized that it needed a little fixing up. Much like a room which needs to be updated or redecorated, my gratitude list needed a little refurbishing. Here is a list of ten things which fill my heart today.

10. I have a job. In fact, I have several jobs and am thankful for the success of our businesses.

9. I have a nice house to sleep in every night.

8. Reality TV (I know, but I'm still thankful for it!)

7. I am vital and healthy.

6. Team Chevy- this ever-growing network of customers and friends with whom I share a common bond.

5. I am daily thankful that I was born an American citizen and enjoy the rights, privileges, and opportunities that it affords.

4. Bacon. Sometimes it's the simple things in life that give us the most pleasure.

3. My own personal animal kingdom. I get to walk on the wild side everyday!

2. Chevy. I am blessed to share the life journey of a great horse.

1. I am surrounded daily by people who truly know and care about me.

Courage

2010-09-14T20:04:00.001-04:00

Ace was a Bernese Mountain Dog. He more closely resembled a black bear than his Saint Bernard cousins. Although he had never seen an Alp nor been close to a cart, his dense fur and massive bulk told the story of his heritage. To a human, he was 130 pounds of pure canine; to the other dogs around him, he was a chump.

Since he was a puppy, he had dodged confrontation. He often averted his gaze to avoid eye contact with other dogs; was satisfied to eat after everyone else had their fill; and preferred his master's gentle pat of approval to a tone of displeasure. He could not remember a time when he did not accept his fate, go with the flow, or obey a command. As a young puppy, he attended obedience school and outshone his fellow students. His nature was to obey blindly. He was a follower and it served him well in his lot.

Now, Ace spent most days lying in the sunny spot at the end of the barn aisle. Sometimes he moved when people walked through but usually they just stepped over him. He had become a fixture and was part of the furnishings of the stable. He was a doormat for the cats- literally, they liked to wipe their paws on his black fur when it was wet outside or after a particularly dirty hunt. He would lie in his usual position and it was commonplace to find a cat or two curled into a ball on top his mountainous bulk.

He looked out the doorway through half-closed eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the evening sun baking him. His thick fur served as an insulator to both heat and cold- so it took a while for the radiant energy to reach his flesh beneath.

"Well hello, big guy," a male voice spoke from behind him in the darkness of the barn. It was late afternoon- the feeding chores were finished and he had thought he was alone without the people who tended the horses for a few hours. Customarily, they would return later to close the barn doors against the cooling night air and check on the equines who stood in the stalls around him. But for now, he should have been alone.

A chill crept across his gut like a long shadow. He liked people and was always ready for a pat on the head or to meet a new human friend. This one, however, was unannounced and inside his barn. Ace allowed his frame to rise to a sitting position- a great effort for this time of the day. He wanted to get a better look at this new voice. He pushed the shadow in his gut down and cocked his head sideways. Ever a smile on his big face, he wagged his tail slowly sending a friendly volley across the space to the man standing a few feet away.

The gesture was met with a nervous smile but Ace became uneasy when it did not reach the man's eyes. Why was this man standing here breathing short nervous breaths? Why did his eyes dart side to side as if they had a mind of their own rather than meet his warm brown gaze? Ace began to feel an uneasy ball roll around inside his stomach. Different than hunger, the ball rolled against the back of his stomach and he knew he was unsure about this person. He wished that there was a barn person here to greet him in the usual manner- to shake his hand, smile, and inquire about his business. But Ace was alone, here in the barn with a stranger, and he did not like it one bit.

Somewhere to his left, a mare whispered quietly, "Ask his business." With a low nicker, her neighbor- a chestnut mare with light hair sprinkled throughout her brown mane said, "Someone must send him away- he should not be here."

Ace looked down the long barn aisle as if wishing would make a familiar person appear before him. His rich brown eyes always held a hint of sadness, now they were quickly filling with worry. He knew this person should leave the barn. He could not imagine who would tell him to go. Furtively, he glanced behind him. Where were the cats now? Perhaps they would enter en force in all their feline fury and drive the intruder out.

But, alas, there was no cavalry to be seen. Ace was running out of options. The ball rolling inside his stomach was getting larger and causing him to be more uncomfortable. He was becoming agitated by it. A quiet voice whispered to him, "You know, you could tell him to leave."

He cocked an ear to discern the direction the sound came from but could not find the source. He continued to watch the suspicious man and noticed that his arms hung stiffly at his sides. His hands opened and closed into fists in a rhythmic motion. Ace knew that he was a big dog. He had always used caution when he moved close to people so that his bulk would not cause them harm. He had never before contemplated that his size could be used for any other purpose.

That idea settled upon him like a cloak and the ball suddenly settled within him. A tiny seed of courage sprouted from it and began to grow. Faster than an idea can travel from a dog's heart to his mind, Ace opened his smiling mouth and said "Woof." It was a small woof but his sheer size dictated that his voice was baritone and rich. The man took a half step backwards. Without pausing to think again, Ace said a bit louder "Woof." He liked the way his voice felt rushing across his throat and threw his thick jowls.

Courage welled inside the black beast like a wildfire now. His voice boomed and he was bolstered by the nickers of approval coming from inside the stalls around him. He stood up- an impressive mound of hair, flesh, and teeth and enjoyed the sound of his booming voice as it echoed through the rafters and off the concrete floors. The intruder was retreating now- and quickly. He had come here not expecting to be greeted by this bear in dog's clothing.

Ace watched as the man disappeared out of doors at the other end of the barn. He still felt the ball inside him but now it had moved upwards and was filling his heart. He did not feel afraid nor meek at this moment. He felt proud and vital. He walked the length of the barn once and back again- huge paws falling softly on the hard surface. He accepted the congratulations of the admiring horses as he passed their stalls and beamed.

Once he reached the sunny spot at the end of the barn, he settled back onto a lump resembling a furry rug and let out a satisfied sigh. With half-closed eyes, he resumed soaking up the remainder of the long evening rays of sun.

Tornado

2010-09-12T09:00:00.000-04:00

The bay mare blew through the pasture like a cold wind. She stretched her long legs with each stride feeling the soft earth below her feet. In the Spring or Fall when the grass was moist and the earth held the rain inside it, the sound of the her hooves would have been muffled. Now, it was Summer and she thundered across the paddock- four feet echoed until it sounded like twenty four feet. The earth was hard and dry. It ached for a hint of rainfall.

She raced headlong toward the farthest end of the field. Like a tornado, her path was erratic yet relentless. She careened toward an unknown destination mindless of anything in her path and destructive in her velocity. There were a handful of horses who shared her enclosure- and they stood quietly watching the tornado mare race across the dry ground. In her wake, a cone of dust and debris swirled into the air only to settle quietly back to the earth a few moments later.

Just as quickly as it began, the burst of energy was over. The bay mare snorted once, slowed to a trot then a walk. The only evidence of her tornadic activity was the harsh sound of air rushing out of her nostrils as her lungs struggled to recover. And in moments, the paddock was calm and serene again.

If I Only Had A Brain

2010-09-08T21:58:00.000-04:00

Here is a Top Ten List of things that I would do if my brain were larger.

10. Balance the check book on the first attempt
9. Build a better mouse trap
8. Find my way out of a corn maze
7. Be smarter than the Border Collie who checked in for training
6. Crack a top secret code to something
5. Break the bank in Vegas
4. Not lose my cell phone at least one time each day
3. Invent an I-Phone App or Facebook or something
2. Be a one woman think tank
and the #1 thing that I would do if I had a larger brain is...One word...World Peace (oh, wait...that's two words)

Love and Loss

2010-09-06T10:16:00.001-04:00

He stood at the doorway watching her walk away and knew that he would probably never see her again. Each warm breath left his body and was like a wind that carried her further away from him. He caught himself holding his breath- hoping that it would keep her close to him longer. But it did not.

With each step, she became smaller and smaller. He watched until he could no longer see her outline. Even then, he watched a while longer, at the place where she had disappeared. Barely breathing, afraid to blink lest he miss a final glimpse of her blonde hair, he felt as though his heart would stop beating.

It faltered once inside his chest- obliging his fear. Momentarily, the pain ceased but then his heart sputtered back to life and he felt as though he may die yet again. Each hollow thud of cold pain inside his chest was followed by a swish of hot emotion flooding his senses. Every thud of his heart emptied its chambers reminding him that she was gone. Every swish filled the emptiness with hot blood and served as a reminder that he would go on living without her. He could not escape the pain- his heart would not allow it.

Somewhere in the background, a horse whinnied. It sounded far away and he tried not to notice. The voice called again and seemed closer. Chevy did not turn his head but a single ear freed itself from the raging battle inside his body and turned toward the sound. Autonomous and independent, it listened to the voice- soft and feminine. It was intrigued. The ear dispatched a message to his brain hoping that it would arrive at its destination safely. The onslaught of emotion sieging the horse below was threatening to win this war.

The entire war lasted only moments- battles within his body were won and lost in milliseconds. Suddenly, a new emotion arose within the stallion. Something soft and feminine passed across his memory. She was bay and tall and younger than his usual concubine. His heart lost its grip upon him as his soft muzzle absorbed the new smell. Her scent wafted through the air like a perfume. And Chevy turned to see the new mare walk into the barn.

Time for some new "old sayings"...

2010-09-05T09:58:00.003-04:00

The animals at Fields Quarter Horses (with contributions from Canine Companion as well) have decided that it is time that we create some new cliches. They are tired of the old ones!

Here is a list of their suggestions:

Instead of run like the wind, they suggest "gallop like a goat". Example: She is participating in her first marathon today, she is going to gallop like a goat.

The cats at the barn have taken particular offense to the saying Fat Cat and would like to suggest Roly Poly Poodle. Example: She is a big TV star and lives like a Hollywood Roly Poly Poodle these days.

The Hedgehog would like to suggest that pleasantly plump objects now be called "fat as a broodmare" instead of "fat as a hog". Although appropriate, this saying is likely to never make it out of committee as the broodmares have a lot of lobbying power here.

The Jack Russell contingency who is spending the weekend at Canine Companion have suggested that the saying "bark is worse than the bite" be abolished. I totally agree.

From the cats at Canine Companion, the suggestion passed that "looking a gift horse in the mouth" be replaced with "don't ever look a raccoon in the eyes". They felt that this advice was interchangeable with most phrases and relevant at all times.

Gary and Amber nominated that "everything but the kitchen sink" be replaced with "everything in the tack room". Example: Instead of saying "She packed everything but the kitchen sink for the show," one would now say "She packed everything in the tack room for the show."

Ringo would like to replace "Every dog has his day" with "Every Raccoon is the King of the World."

Moving forward, "Hold your horses" shall now be interchangeable with "Sit. Stay."

Ace the Bernese Mountain Dog asked for amnesty for the cliche "Let sleeping dogs lie." At this time, this suggestion is under review.

"It's raining cats and dogs," will now be referred to as "It's raining colts and fillies."

The mares of the barn are tired of hearing "Look what the cat dragged in." They suggest the following: "Oh look, it's a mouse."

And finally, "To err is human." All of the animals at Fields Quarter Horses and Canine Companion agreed that this saying suits just fine and should be left as is.

Big Asses, Little Asses, and Smart Asses

2010-09-04T16:16:00.000-04:00

There's a new sheriff in town and his name is Eddie. He's about yay tall (imagine my hand held waist high here), very opinionated, and has an attitude that is disproportionate to his size. Eddie moved to the farm about 2 months ago and is a miniature donkey Jack (this means male donkey with testicles).

His owners were in sore need of a Summer sabbatical and so was the group of Nubian goats he lived with. His ardor was unwelcome among their species and his frustrations were vocalized upon the entire neighborhood. Eddie had become a scourge.

When he arrived at the farm, he immediately was introduced to the sister donkeys Connie and Sara. They are regular sized Jennies and were without their usual male escort Rico this Summer. Both had given birth to baby donks last Summer and were now clamoring to be mothers again. Eddie gladly obliged them in short order.

The next few weeks passed blissfully and Eddie will likely remember them fondly. The three donkeys frolicked like children among the Summer grasses- food and love were aplenty. Then, as if the Fall winds heralded an end to the season, the sisters began to prefer to eat their choice patches of clover alone. They turned their backs on Eddie and sometimes their heels. Still he longed for the days when he stood between them like a sentry- feeling much larger than his diminutive size. At dawn and dusk each day, Eddie would sing a mournful song across the farm. Plaintive and pitiful, his voice sang of lost love, despair, and longing.

And now it is nearly Fall. Eddie still walks among the jennies but holds his head a little less high. He follows them dutifully around the paddock as they discuss baby names and such. It is indeed a new season and Eddie is adjusting to his new role. Life runs in cycles. Eddie is learning about those now.

It's The Little Things

2010-09-02T10:53:00.000-04:00

Little things are important in my life. I'm not talking about small details nor do I speak of finding pleasure in life's small surprises. Rather, the important little things in my life are usually furry, sometimes bite or kick, have more legs than I do, and seem to require a lot of care.

Whether it's a horse, a dog, a raccoon, cat, llama, donkey, hedgehog, or some other beast which happens to be in my care- they are all important. I sometimes wonder if other people see animals the way I do. In my world (which I share with you occasionally) each little thing has a voice, a personality, and a story.

I look at a small dog checking into Canine Companion for a weekend visit while his owners go on vacation and he instantly tells me a story. These stories are usually complete with nuances such as distinctive voices, ethnic flair, a diverse and rich garden of emotions to choose from. I walk past a mare and foal standing in a paddock and instantly imagine their conversation. Or do I?

We've already established that I have a vivid imagination (if you only knew!) but some days I do ask myself who will tell the stories of these animals if I don't? Who will explain the anguish that Brownie will feel when her foal is weaned in a few weeks. Who will share the sage wisdom that only a raccoon can offer? Who will explain the airy thoughts that bounce through a Jack Russell's brain when he chases a ball? So, I suppose that I will resume this task. The little things around me are clamoring to have their stories told. Right now Rondo the poodle is pestering Ringo the raccoon to help him write his name. It's infectious- this giving animals a literary voice thing.

Being Barry White

2010-08-29T09:30:00.001-04:00

Being Barry White comes with certain privileges. One can be as prickly as one feels on any given day. Curfew is nonexistent. People do not expect you to come home at any particular time or even day. In fact, a hedgehog can go missing for days without the slightest fear of censure or repercussions, merely exaltation at his homecoming.

Barry White is an albino African Pygmy Hedgehog. He has an attitude, a baritone singing voice, and a penchant for large winged insects. Like all new parents, it has taken us a few months to appreciate the depth of Barry's rich personality. We've taken our time getting to know one another and Barry White is slowly but surely finding his own literary voice. He has offered up a few blog submissions but as of yet the Editor-In-Chief of All Animal Blogs Raccoon has not accepted his contributions.

"Too wordy, "
"Not enough character development,"
"Unbelievable story line."

Ringo sends each creative tidbit back hoping to forever squash the Hedgehog's aspirations of becoming published. With each rejection Barry White's resolve has strengthened; his literary voice has grown. With a vocabulary that extends beyond his three months of life and a rich heritage of culture and intercontinental danger to draw from, Barry continues to tap out tales with his ten tiny Hedgie fingers.

Whilst other season-old Hedgehogs snuffle around in search of a stray grub or insect, or stretch their fragile legs on special Hedgehog supporting exercise wheels, Barry White is driven to pen the plight of Hedgehogs everywhere. He is mature beyond his months and oft gruff. Not satisfied to spend his days sleeping and his nights on the prowl, he tackles life with a vengeance seen in only the most talented and driven individuals. In the halls of his new home, Barry White already commands respect and admiration from his peers. They call him poet. They whisper that he is the voice of his generation. All but one that is. The Raccoon watches him shuffle by with a barely concealed glare. Barry White feels the heat of the Raccoon's gaze on his back but it does not penetrate his spiny exterior. Inside his white pin cushion of skin- he is safe, at least for now.

Change

2010-08-27T16:00:00.002-04:00

Change happens. It is inevitable. No more than a mere man could stop the tides or control the seasons- he could as likely interfere with the process of change. Around each of us, the world is constantly evolving and emoting. And I suppose people do the same.

There are those who would argue that all evolution is for the greater good, but I would disagree. Certainly there have been biological faux pas along the way. After all, what was the duckbill platypus all about? I wonder if the changes which surround us in our own lives can sometimes be mis-steps as well.

Lately I feel sort of like a duckbill myself. I started off somewhere and someone much different than I am now. Does that mean that I was left behind by evolution- archaic and misunderstood? Or have I possibly evolved ahead of my environment and am waiting for the world to catch up with me? Either way, it is hard to be out of step.

And so are the days of our lives...

2010-08-26T17:54:00.000-04:00

I won't bore you with the grisly details of where I've been or what I've been doing during my unplanned Summer hiatus. In fact, your imagination would probably prove far more interesting than my accounting of July and most of August. Instead, let me resume blogging by telling you some things which haven't changed since we were last together.

The days at the farm march on in the way that long Summer days tend to do. The grass has finally stopped growing- but the weeds seem to still wage war on fence rows, flower beds, and the parking lot. Mowing chores suddenly went from 4 days each week to not even two days these past two weeks. In the way that time creeps up on us all, the much loved green zero turn mower has found that it too has not escaped sitting still long enough to acquire a few cob webs. Each of the foals who was born this Spring has grown tall and strong and one by one are experiencing the rite of passage known as weaning. Sundae- born in May is the lone foal who still enjoys long naps in the sun under her mother Brownie's watchful gaze.

As I write this, Eden and Audry (who was just weaned this morning) are feeling the exuberance of adolescence and practicing their athletic maneuvers along the weathered black board fence line. Eden completed a spectacular high kick with both back feet but her landing was slightly awkward. When she landed, she coyly looked left and right as if to make sure that no one had seen her guffaw. School girls and fillies have quite a lot in common actually.

The yearlings are growing larger each day and their increased size makes it easier than ever to imagine that they will be learning to carry a rider this Winter. Jude, Amber, and Maxim among others- all were born at the farm in 2009 and one by one each will pass through that next phase of horsedom over the next 6 months.

The mares we bred earlier this Spring are beginning to bloom with their unborn foals. As the children who take riding lessons saddle them each week, the girths are getting more snug. Sabrina and Essi's unborn foals have begun kicking and seem to like to lope circles within their mothers. Sabrina accepts this with her usual unending patience however the red mare Essi will randomly pin her ears showing her displeasure to her Chevy-in-the-oven.

And that's how things are here today. I hope to be back now and begin sharing with you lots of things that I've seen and experienced with the animals this Summer. Barry White the Hedgehog has provided lots of fodder for my imagination as he continues regular outbreaks from his habitat requiring extensive hunts to locate him. Until tomorrow, hasta la vista and have a great day!

Blog for today...

2010-08-25T21:06:00.001-04:00

Well, no blog written for today but I'm a lot closer...stay tuned...I'm coming back. The ideas are raging in my brain and staging a jail break...

Khris

Sundays...and other days

2010-06-28T08:24:00.000-04:00

It's been a while since I updated everyone on the comings, going, inhabitants, and humans at Fields Quarter Horses. June seems to have been a whirlwind- punctuated by the grandly successful Open House, preparations for, and mundane since.

Amber and Gary spent much of the past week involved in horse shows- Amber in Kentucky, Gary in Michigan. But, in true modern style, we all stayed connected via phones and internet. Gary was able to mentor Amber as she trekked to the Kentucky Horse Park for the Mid-East Kentucky Quarter Horse Show with several fledgling two's. It was their first field trip and they were a hit. Snapshot and Grady both minded their P's, showed off their Q's, and began what hopes to be long careers of traveling to horse shows for their owners.

Gary attended the Tom Powers horse shows in Michigan as an official for the NSBA (National Snaffle Bit Association). This event is the inaugural show for two year old Quarter Horses in the United States. It is a prestigious futurity (show for young horses) and the top exhibitors, owners, and horses were there in droves. Chevrolatte (2 year old Chevy colt) made his debut and earned Reserve Champion status with his owner and rider Christa Baldwin. Also, another 2 year old Chevy (Willis) showed with Troy Green and earned a 3rd place award. These are the top horses in the country and a great look at what the competition holds for the rest of the show season. We are excited that the year is under way with some great ones out there showing. Team Chevy continues to burn a candle here at home- keeping and sending word on the victories on the road!

Speaking of here at home, those of us left behind carried on with business as usual. There is always mowing to be done (with 16 acres mowed each week, it never ends). By 8:00am yesterday morning, a tired, sweaty crew looked upon 600 delicious, fresh square bales standing neatly stacked in our hay shed. Hay season is one of the only times that we ever resent the horses here. Our hay producer Jason is rather proud of his 70 and 80 pound hay squares. When buying- this is an amazing thing. When stacking and unloading- this makes one question her choice of profession. So, we unloaded several hundred of the bales Saturday evening and looking at the exhaustion on the faces of my less-than-burly helpers, decided to re-group and finish unloading at 7:00am on Sunday morning. With well-rested, and some fresh new helpers, we finished the wagons in no time at all.

Then, the Gator (machine-for-the-farm-extraordinaire) received some long overdue maintenance and repairs offered up by I-raise-hay-but-can-also-work-on-any-machine-ever-built friend Jason. Wayne and Rachel headed to the Horse Park to help bring Amber and Horse Company home from the show whilst Brittney assumed the helm of Canine Companion for a few hours.

Oh, and in the morning hours, a platoon of lost ducks walked up the driveway to the farm. There were 6 cream ones and two black and white specimens. They were mum about their mission, where they had come from, and who had dispatched them. Ducks can keep a secret when they want to. So, with the aid of a saltine, they marched into a horse stall until their rightful owner could be found. As of the writing of this edition- no one has stepped forward to claim them. I believe they may be AWOL from some larger duck force. The little pod seems quite content to lie in the straw and forage for forgotten oats. A plan will be formulated soon for their future.

And, then a welcome thunderstorm rolled in rather violently yesterday afternoon. Although we were dodging tree limbs and scurrying to latch doors to keep it outside, it was almost as if everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief for the break. Thank you, Universe. Each of us stumbled across a bit of slumber while the rain beat down outside. It was much needed and well deserved.

And, tomorrow, I'll give an update on the mares, foals, training horses, etc. There's a lot to catch up on as everyone is growing, learning, and we are looking forward to the pregnancies and foals for next year. That's all for now- as we assemble this Monday morning for the upcoming week. It's nice to be back to normal and get back into a regular routine again.

Already Hot (The End)

2010-06-25T15:09:00.003-04:00

In what can only be described as a flurry of wings, beaks, legs and feathers, the pair of geese moved up the hillside toward its foe. Looking more like a platoon of death than forefathers of a feather pillow, they descended upon the coyote just as she reached the near side of the pond. So intent on this brunch for her waiting brood of pups, she did not see the squawking squadron approach until they descended upon her back and head.

Cooper would remember the battle for much of his adult life. He watched the mini-drama play out before his eyes as if it were happening in slow motion. The parents rained down upon the coyote in a feverish torrent of wings, feet, and confusion. With instincts born from generations of survival, the larger of the pair began to peck and poke at her most vulnerable spots. Their large wing spans and multitude of feathers served to confuse the animal and the painful strikes aimed at her eyes, ears, and flanks caused her to yelp in pain. Suddenly the promise of breakfast had taken a diabolical turn and she was fighting for her life. Thoughtless of all but to escape the painful volley of jabs she looked left and right for escape. Finding no outlet, she leapt into the air to find freedom.

For a moment the coyote was free and then she landed on the green surface of the small pond. With a whoosh, the slime separated and the murky water below embraced her. When she surfaced, she beat the water with each front foot- gasping and clawing to find solid footing. In less than one half of Cooper's heartbeats, the geese once again descended upon their foe in a furious flurry. Now, only her head and shoulders were exposed and they continued their assault poking, pecking, pulling, and piercing her soft flesh. Soon, the coyote grew weak from struggling to stay afloat with the geese upon her and the green pool swallowed her quietly.

With an elegance that belied their ferocity just before, the geese lightly landed on the far side of the pond near their nest. The gander walked rather prissily to the nest, wagged his tail feathers, and settled down upon his brood. The goose herself began a promenade back and forth across the pond's dam a few feet from where her mate rested. There was a quiet calm now suddenly over the paddocks. The domestic dispute from earlier seemed forgotten. Then, with a slosh, the coyote surfaced on the near side of the pond. She dragged her weary, damaged, sodden body up the bank and came to stand unsteadily on all fours. Without looking back at the nest or the geese directly across the pond from her, she began to slowly walk down the hillside.

Cooper noted her defeated stance and watched her disappear in the summer grass. He watched until the grass did not sway and he could not determine her position as she passed into the valley and toward the creek at the base of the paddocks. He was filled with confusion. He pitied the coyote suddenly. He felt triumphant that he had saved the goslings but the furor he had witnessed had left him a changed horse. He had witnessed nature and brutality and death and life all in the span of a few moments. As he contemplated the meaning of it all, a delicious scent wafted through the air and found its way beneath his nose. It was the smell of June clover. Cooper dropped his long neck toward the earth and grabbed a mouthful of the sweet grass. Oh, how he loved clover in the month of June.

Already Hot (Part Deux)

2010-06-24T08:16:00.003-04:00

Like a sentinel, the young horse raised his head even higher. Craning to look for the coyote who had passed through the pasture just a while before, he glanced back at the goose nest. His heritage had blessed him with keen senses, he could see, hear, smell a predator from very far. The geese, on the other hand, needed to keep a constant vigil as the coyote could be upon them and the nest without much warning.

Cooper's paddock rested upon a flat grassy knoll. Between him and the nest there was only a rolling hill which dipped downward and rose back up, then the small pond which was surrounded by growing Summer cattails. From his vantage point, he could see several pastures, the hayfield, the pond, and the small woods beyond. He began by scanning the horizon where he had last seen her disappear earlier this morning. Then, finding no familiar dog-shaped form, he began to scan each paddock systematically. He looked for the geese parents, trusting that they would protect their nest. It was uncharacteristic for them to both leave it unattended for such a long time.

Then, he spotted them. The goose was at the base of the hillside, just below the pond. From his earlier position in the barn, she had been out of sight. She was pacing back and forth, squawking but the wind carried her voice away before it reached him. The gander was slightly smaller than she and he paced a few steps behind her looking as if to console her. Though he could not discern their conversation, he guessed that they were having a marital spat. She angrily flapped her wings. The bill of her mouth pulled into a sneer as the spun to face the gander. He stepped back recoiling from her obvious anger. His mouth moved faster than her- his words also lost to the wind. He seemed to be grovelling, begging, pleading.

Cooper looked away. Unable to watch the argument, but worried still about the unattended nest. He had been raised in a cultured, mannered, civilized household. Convention begged that he not intrude by watching the spectacle but concern for the fledglings insisted that he remain attentive. He scanned the pastures once again, surely other animals must be within earshot of the geese. The clamor they must be making would alert others to this scene. He feared that the wrong animals would be alerted to the family's discord.

His head was inclined toward the drama unfolding on the hillside below him but a slight breeze lilted its way across his nostrils. Genetic programming took over and he subconsciously filtered the scents it carried. There had been a deer in the back woods this morning, musky and wearing its summer coat. The clover in the mare and foal paddock had bloomed yesterday afternoon. The turkey hen's nest had welcomed a new chick early this morning. And there it was. The coyote was nearby. His large dark head snapped sideways in the direction of the breeze. His sensitive ears flicked sharply forward instantly scanning for an approaching force. His eyes began to search for her but he knew this would be difficult. She was also wearing her summer coat and it allowed her to blend keenly into the pastures and undergrowth.

He looked for any slight movement that would give her position away. His equine senses assured him that she was there even if his eyes had not identified her. On full alert, he snorted a centuries old alarm which would have forewarned his herd mates to the presence of a foe. The argumentative pair of geese did not pay heed to his warning and continued their animated argument. She flapping and squawking; he cajoling and consoling.

Then, perhaps due to his especially special height allowing him a better view than most animals of the pastures below and before him, Cooper saw her move. Almost imperceptible, the movement could have been blamed on the wind to a person's eyes. But Cooper was smart. He was alert. And he cared about the nest across the pond. His senses were primed for such invasions, his ancestry dictated it. Again, the movement came. She was creeping ever closer all the time. She was downwind of the geese but from his point on the top of the ridge, Cooper had a front seat to both her scent, her endeavor, and the geese fighting in the valley below. She crept along the ground until she was closer to the nest than its owners. At that point, she dropped her veil of secrecy and stood upright. The coyote began to boldly walk toward the pond, she was now between the nest and the geese below. Experience told her that she did not need to slink now- this was an easy breakfast.

Cooper was overcome with anxiety. Normally, he was carefree and happy. He observed the farm, its inhabitants, and his surroundings with a disconnect. Not today, however. He sounded an alarm reserved for the highest priorities. Lifting his brown muzzle into the air, he pushed the air out of his lungs with great force as he whinnied his alert for all to hear. Like a trumpet blaring across the paddock, it resounded through the valley up the adjoining hillside, across the pond, and bounced back to his own ears. The coyote flicked one sandy ear in the direction of his voice but did not alter her path.

In mid flap, the geese both halted as if frozen. In unison, they turned their smallish heads toward Cooper then together, they turned to look at the pond. From their vantage point, they could not see their nest but could see the tan-colored dog shaped form walking purposefully toward the pond. Cooper could not hear her words but saw the goose's beak mouth the words "No!"...

Already Hot (Part One)

2010-06-23T09:17:00.002-04:00

He was prone to bouts of petulance and pouting. He occasionally threw temper tantrums that were usually effective. Cooper was a two year old American Quarter Horse but he was Appendix registered. To many, this simply meant that Cooper had some Thoroughbred heritage. To Cooper, this meant that his blood ran thick with a mixture of heritage that spanned from the Spanish Mustangs of the American Plains to the founding bloodlines of Thoroughbreds from the Arabian Deserts. He was a paradox- both to himself and those around him.

He moved to stand near the bright aluminum bars which lined the front of his stall. He liked to stand in the corner nearest the green feeder mounted to the wall- not because it was the feeding place but because it allowed him the best view outside. From this corner, he could see the lesson mares in the paddock beyond the arena, he could see the horses being ridden inside the indoor arena, and he could even see the coyote who trotted across the hayfield each morning just before sunrise.

Cooper stood over 17 hands tall. For a two year old, his height and breadth were impressive. Cooper had grown accustomed to being tall. He liked that he looked down onto the tops of most people's heads. He liked that when he walked, he towered over the other horses. The girl came to his stall door and he heard it slide open- the familiar sound of metal and wood sliding across the track which held the door in place. He did not move from his station but rather stood there watching. He had watched the geese on the small pond in the lesson paddock build a nest over the past few weeks. He had watched the lady goose lay her eggs and then observed them tending, guarding, and waiting. Today, however, both geese had left the nest and he was concerned. He had watched it for over an hour, hoping the coyote did not return early today. Surely the geese would not be so unresponsible.

As the girl walked to his shoulder, she said, "Cooper, do you want to go outside?". Unable to wrest his gaze from the mini-drama at the small pond, he simply lowered his large head in agreement to her suggestion. Wrapping an arm around his seal brown neck, she slipped an emerald green halter across his nose. It had a cream-colored band on the nose and another on the cheek piece with the letters "Already Hot" spelled out on it. Cooper knew that the halter pleased the humans- it held his registered name on it. People always felt the need to label, claim, or otherwise identify things. Cooper knew who he was and did not understand why it he needed to be labeled. The girl reached the strap over his poll and closed the heavy brass buckle next to his temple settling the halter into place. Even though he had dropped his head obediently, she still reached upwards with her arms to complete this maneuver. Snapping a matching green lead rope to the brass ring at the base of his chin, the pair moved together toward the doorway of the stall. The monumental brown horse waited momentarily as the girl stepped around him- he was always careful when he moved around people to make sure they were safely out of the way of his large limbs.

The girl stepped into the aisle first and the horse followed her. As he stepped through the stall door, his feet moving from the soft straw bed to concrete, they echoed harshly in the morning air. It was a crisp sound as his hooves clipped the concrete floor cleanly. There was a skylight in the aisle just outside of his stall. At that precise moment, the sun beamed through and caressed his back and neck as he breached the doorway. The spotlight caused his coat to deepen and explode with dapples. He was rich brown upon richer chocolate upon caramel circles for a moment standing in the sunlight. A mare across the barn glanced at him for a moment and wistfully thought what a beautiful animal he was. He, however, was both unaware and unconcerned about things such as beauty.

She paused for a breath longer than Cooper cared for and he lifted his front foot in impatience. From the aisle, he could not see the nest and he felt the need to watch it until the parents returned. Reaching his long front leg forward and out, he lifted it in a half raised position asking for the girl to hurry. Cooper was normally not impatient- he had never needed to be. He had always had enough to eat, regular grooming, plenty of attention. He had not known want or need and had thus never experienced adversity.

Sensing that the big horse was ready for his morning exercise, the girl turned to move through the large doorway. As the pair stepped from the concrete barn toward the paddocks, their feet began to crunch on the crushed rock of the driveway. It was a methodical beat, two steps for the girl and four steps for the horse. The beat carried them to the red gate of the turnout pasture. Cooper had been craning his neck to see the nest. As they walked, he could see that the parents had still not returned. As the girl walked him inside the gate and into the board fence enclosure, she unsnapped the lead rope from the halter. Normally, he heard the tell tale click and would rejoice in his momentary freedom by running for a bit. Today, however, there were more pressing matters at hand.

The Thinking Tree

2010-06-22T07:38:00.001-04:00

ChaChi was an angry colt. Maybe he was angry because he had been born with an ache in his stomach. Maybe he was born with an ache in his stomach because he was angry. No one ever really knew the answer to that question- only that ChaChi was usually angry. He was a red-headed liver chestnut with a proclivity toward temper tantrums.

When he was in the throes of a tantrum, people usually just shook their heads and commented that he was fiery. His father was a great English-style Quarter Horse stallion named Sonny. His mother was also an English-style Quarter Horse named Jazzy. He lived at Fields Quarter Horses where there were occasional English-style foals like him but mostly the foals were Western-style horses. And most of them were the offspring of the resident farm stallion, Chevy. ChaChi felt like an outsider. The other foals were lazy and mostly moved slowly. They did not care to race with him. They liked to stand under the shade trees while he preferred to explore the large green pasture.

In time, the foals were introduced to their destined paths as future show horses. After weaning, they were given elementary horse lessons like learning to lead and stand tied. ChaChi did not like school and did not excel at these tasks. The other foals accepted their instructions meekly, and sought to please their instructors. ChaChi, however, felt anger rise in his throat and would fight the lead rope until he was exhausted. Even then, his mind insisted that he resist. And then the day came that the foals were to be bathed.

The day started like many others. One by one, the foals walked quietly to stand in the bright sunshine with their teacher. The sun was hot and bright and the cool water falling on their backs felt wonderful to them. They were rubbed with soft rubber curry combs and shampoo which smelled like new apples in late Spring. Then, the cool water rinsed them again. The three people formed a system which looked much like an assembly line and thus each weanling took its turn at a bath.

And then they came to ChaChi. He had heard the other foals talking excitedly when they returned about this new lesson. He was skeptical though. ChaChi did not like new things and did not like school. He did not think he would like this day much either. They brought him out into the sunshine and slowly began to allow the water to run over his chestnut legs. He did not like the feel of water hitting him from below- rain came from above- this was not natural. Within moments, ChaChi felt the anger welling up within him and he determined that he was leaving the sunny spot. In what can only be described as a flurry of legs- horse and human- and a tussle the likes of which no one had seen before, ChaChi decided that he would not have a bath on this day.

His teachers knew him well. They knew that once he had decided to fight them, he would not give in easily. They patiently attempted to spray him with the water hose for the next thirty minutes. Each time, the red-headed colt fought them as if his life depended on it. Nostrils flaring and eyes so wide that they were mostly white, he vowed that the water would not touch his body. Neither force could find no victory in this battle and after a while, the humans regrouped. This situation called for extreme measures- after all, it was three humans against one small carrot-topped horse.

Looking around, the people noticed a sassafras tree standing nearby. It was on the edge between the sunny spot and the paddock. Also known as a root beer tree, this tree was just the perfect size to hold a 500 pound adversary. They brought ChaChi to the base of the tree and wrapped his lead rope around it several times. Before he knew it, he was standing with his nose against the trunk of the tree. He moved to step backward but could not move an inch. Enraged, he tried to move forward but again, could find no easement. He was snubbed so tightly to the tree that he was immobilized. The exhausted humans commenced to bathing him quickly. First they finished wetting his coat- the deep liver hair turned nearly black as it became soaked. Then, they shampooed him with the sweet apple scent. Standing beneath the tree, the smell of apple mixed with the distinctive scent of sassafras to create a sweet pungent odor that permeated their nostrils.

When the bath was finished, ChaChi was tired of fighting. He stood dejected against the tree- unable to fight the people, unable to fight the tree. There, tied to the sassafras tree, he ran out of anger. From that day forward, ChaChi began to become interested in the lessons which the people wanted to teach him. Sometimes, he would leave the other foals and stand beside the fence beneath the sassafras tree. It's smell reminded him of something but he could never quite remember what. Like a fleeting memory that is lost before we can hold it. The humans began to call the tree The Thinking Tree. There were a few other foals who visited the thinking tree on occasion. Always they smelled its sweet fragrance and always they spent time thinking about the futility of throwing temper tantrums. Rarely did a foal ever have a tantrum after spending time at the Thinking Tree.

Good Morning Sunshine

2010-06-21T08:22:00.000-04:00

The colt stretched his long daffodil colored legs and yawned sleepily. Morning had arrived in the paddock- the birds had been chirping for over an hour. A soft dew had fallen over the green quilt of grass and the earth smelled fresh, musky, and alive.

In the grass beneath his nose, a platoon of ants marched noisily past on their daily mission. Cam blinked his eyes slowly, removing the sleepy haze and readjusting to his surroundings. He felt rather than saw his mother standing watch over him- like a yellow tank threatening bodily harm to any who dared disturb her sleeping foal. In an instant, the palomino colt shrugged off his sleepy mask and sprang to life. In one swift movement, he was standing on his tiny creamy feet.

He reached first one hind leg back then the other stretching them, testing to see how long they had grown overnight. He was very proud of his long legs. When people came to see him, they always commented about how long his legs were. Moving to stand closer to his yellow protector, he rubbed his yellow forelock against her side affectionately.

"Good morning, Mother," he spoke in a raspy little boy colt voice.

"Good morning, Sunshine," she replied softly in the voice that she reserved only for him.

Writer's Block/ Raccoon Style

2010-06-19T16:31:00.000-04:00

This is Ringo Feelds- head raccoon and puppet master behind most of the animul intelligence at Feelds 1/4 Horse. I have seezed the opportunity to send you a report since the mother has been too preoccupied to blog lately.

First came the HedgePig. They call him Barry White and coo and coddle him. He is ugly, prickly, and uninteresting to me. I do not notice when the mother holds him and looks at his beady little red eyes. He is no match for my intelligence and does not eat candy bars. Hmmph. I see no use for him yet.

Then, there was the business of an Open House. I saw the peeple of the barn working for long hours. They cleaned, they brushed the horses; even I got my toenails trimmed. I supposed that there must be a great event coming. I waited anxiously for the feasts. I just knew there would be marshmallows, candy bars, and cheetos. But the day came with neither pomp, circumstance, nor treats of any kind. It was just another day with lots of peeple poking their noses into my business. I tried to take a nap but the talking peeple disturbed me. So, then I was hungry and sleepy. Stoopid Open Houses. I don't know what the big deal was anyway.

And finally, now there is this business with my mother's writer's block. Seems to me that she never really wrote anything interesting anyway. She just tells stories about what we are doing. I'm sure she will come back soon and take the compooter away from me. She told me a funny story just this morning about a squirrel who was gossiping quite loudly while she fed the mares today.

Now, to the business of the candy bars. I heard that the 4-H Club has installed a vending machine into the hallway at the big barn where Chevy lives. My comrade is working on getting the top secret codes to the door so that we can pull off the heist of the century. I also heard that the vending machine has peanuts and Reeses Cups, too. I'll be casing the joint and working out the details. Yum...

Sinceerely,
Ringo the Raccoon

PIctorial Open House

2010-06-15T16:15:00.000-04:00

Open Doors, Open Windows, Open Houses

2010-06-15T13:05:00.001-04:00

Open Doors, Open Windows, Open Houses

Well, the Open House has come and gone. Today, we are cleaning up, reminiscing, and basically recovering from "work" hangovers. There are so many fun things to remember and so many stories to revel. I'll hit the highlights today in the manner of a top ten list and then begin the detailed play by plays in the days to come!

Top Ten List of Things Heard at The 1st Annual Fields Open House & Free Clinics..

10. Is Barry White here?
9. Who drove the Mazarrati?
8. Are the Hot Dogs ready? (Wanna kiss the cook?)
7. Would you like something to drink, hon?
6. Where can I park my trailer?
5. Wow, there are a lot of people here!
4. Oh, you have a Chevy baby...I'm the mom of "____".
3. Have you drawn for the door prizes yet?
2. Are those real or fake?

and the #1 thing heard at the Open House was...Is Chevy here? Can I meet him?

Finding Barry White

2010-06-09T09:18:00.000-04:00

The past week has been punctuated by preparations for our upcoming Open House and the arrival of friends from afar. In the midst of the chaos, a tiny little hedgehog arrived at the Fields household. Like all new parents, we prepared his siblings for his arrival. We hedgehog proofed the house. We readied his room (decorated in an African theme so that he could feel closer to his roots). And then he came.

Several days were spent bonding with Barry. Each evening, no matter how late we arrived home from work, we made time to play with Barry. The dogs looked on as we let him explore under our watchful eyes. We learned to hold him without getting pricked by his spiny covering. We learned how to coerce him to unroll from his protective ball pose. I took him outside Tuesday evening under the stars and let him snuffle around a rock which was the home to a family of grubs.

And then yesterday, Barry disappeared. There sat his cage, looking undisturbed and impenetrable but without its tiny white inhabitant. In the midst of our panic, we developed several hypotheses. Did Ringo have him snuffed out? Did Hazel the Sheltie puppy ask him to come out and play? Did someone kidnap our prized hedgehog? Did Wayne secretly find him another home? So many theories, each needing to be researched further.

So, the hunt began. There were still so many responsibilities outside of Barry to be tended to the search parties were varied throughout the day. By evening, it consisted of Wayne, myself, and Rachel crawling around our home quietly looking for one little critter. Imagining that he must be terrified from his ordeal, we tried to be as quiet as possible as we moved furniture, sorted through dust bunnies, and scoured the farthest corners of each room. (As an aside, I must say that my clean house looks much differently on my hands and knees and todays list now includes a thorough top to bottom cleaning of the horrors which I discovered last night.)

We decided to call off the search for the night (after all, it was nearly 10:00pm) and Wayne walked to the master bedroom to grab a shower. There, in the middle of the floor looking more like a prickly rock, sat Barry White. Wayne didn't move lest Barry make a mad dash for the underrealm of the bed or dresser or chest. He called quietly to me to retrieve the animal from his path.

Recognizing my scent, Barry immediately began to snuffle greedily. We all sat around rejoicing in his return (Rachel and Amber mostly happy that he had not invaded their respective apartments). We fed him grubs and Wayne even brought him several teaspoons of water which he lapped up eagerly.

As the evening came to an end, Barry was quietly snoozing on my shoulder while Hazel the puppy snored beside Wayne's lap. All was right in the Fields household again.

On a side note, Barry's cage spent last night in the bathtub. He again escaped but Wayne had wisely plugged the drain hole with a cloth. I discovered Barry curled up inside the green and white dishcloth happily sleeping this morning.

Daily Updates

2010-06-03T20:33:00.000-04:00

It's been a hectic couple of days. At home, we've prepared for the upcoming Open House by painting, buffing, shining, and spiffing things up a bit. There are new purple flowers flourishing in new tree planters at the barn entrance. There is new hardwood mulch gracing the landscaping; and new rock is freshly spread on the driveway. The lawns are mowed and the pastures are rich and lush- it's June in Kentucky! The foals are growing as are the yearlings and two year old training horses. We are excited to have so many friends- new and old- joining us for the festivities. The llama, donkeys, mini horse, and hedgehog are getting their games on for the petting zoo. So are Gary and Amber.

Speaking of zoo's, Gary has spent the weekend judging a horse show in Alabama, then home to Kentucky, and is now in Oklahoma at the Redbud Horse Show. This large horse show is a coming out party of sorts for the 2 year old Chevy filly named Chloe (Focusonakrymsunimage) who won great accolades at The All American Quarter Horse Congress last year. She is there with her trainer Pierre Briere from New Jersey and Gary reports that she is riding around the grown-up horses looking like the fancy prospect that she is.

After some Memorial Day festivities, Amber has spent this week riding, training, and working on completing an Open House to-do list. She has found time for last minute lessons for several of her students who leave tomorrow for their District 4-H competition. Hopefully Amber and students will return victorious with qualifying ribbons for State.

Brittney and Wayne have held the fort down at Canine Companion with the boarding, training, and grooming dogs. The little Sheltie who was formerly known as Peep has now become Hazel (she's Heidi's little daughter) and officially joined our household. We are now potty-training and trying to keep our leather couch from being chewed upon. Hazel has settled into a routine and has even already made a few visits to the barn.

Of course, we are still finishing up breeding season- checking mares in foal, finding pregnancies and heartbeats. There are progesterone shots to give, vaccinations and wormings, and farrier, dentist, and chiropractor visits. The usual-ness of the days are only interrupted by a little extra cleaning and painting here and there.

And that's what we are doing around here. Hope you will come to our Open House to appreciate all of our hard work- oh, and visit us and the horses as well.

No Good Very Bad Wish I Would Have Slept Longer Day

2010-05-27T21:48:00.001-04:00

I mentioned on Facebook today that I was having a no good very bad day. In the way that most of my days do, it started full of optimism and promise. I was certain when I awoke of the many things which I would accomplish this morning. By 9:00am, that plan was pretty much shot all to heck.

We've been blessed lately with a smallish and handy man named Mike Stanley who seemed to be able to do almost everything. Mike Stanley reminded me of a leprechaun. Not because of his diminutive stature nor his somewhat elfin features but more because he seems to possess magical powers which enable him to clean stalls in record time, fix anything that ever was broken, and perform basically any task we ask. My very bad day began when Mike apologized and told me that he was needed in Pennsylvania by Saturday morning for his real work (he's not a stall cleaner/handyman by trade but rather a pipe fitter who happened to be without pipe to fit lately). I did take time to appreciate Mike while he was working for us- but was still not ready to see him go. I had so many plans for things that he could do. So many weeds left to whack and so many fences still to repair.

Next, I returned to the office/kennel/foaling barn and found that the mower had mysteriously found its way into a deep pool of mud whilst Wayne was sitting atop it mowing a pasture. It was firmly wedged against a fence post and buried to the axle in slippery chocolate colored mud. The next hour was spent more error than trial on deciphering a way to extract the machine from its watery grave. Finally, with the truck in four wheel drive, and the boards from the fence removed, and the mares and foals looking on at the mud-pie flavored humans, we pulled the mower to safety.

And, then it was time for Maxim's second dose of IV antibiotics for the day. That in itself is a task as the yearling is adjusting to his enforced stall rest and recovery from a kick from another horse. His prognosis is good and he is improving each day but the delivery of IV antibiotics to an animal who is nearing 1/2 ton but has the maturity level of a puppy does not add to the general mood of any day.

The day progressed and I made yet another trip between the barns this afternoon to pick up the video camera. We've needed to catch an updated video of horse for sale Snapshot for a bit and today seemed like a great day. I hopped into my car promising to return with camera in hand in 15 minutes and drove the 3 miles to the office. Before I could get there, a surprise pop up thunderstorm arose. By the time I reached the kennel/barn, there was thunder, lightning, and torrential rains. Needless to say, the videography session was postponed once again.

So, that is the majority of my jacked up day. In the middle of it all, I tended to some of the horses, gave Maxim 3 more doses of medicine, worked on invoices, addressed invitations to the Open House, made phone calls, picked up items at the embroidery shoppe, got a new farm sign, and re-wrapped a foal's hernia wraps on her belly. Now, I'm going to go to bed and put the covers over my head. I'm going to dream of green fields (who someone else mows), fat horses (who someone else feeds), beautiful babies (all Chevy's of course), and sunny days. And tomorrow, I'll wake up ready to tackle the chores which I didn't get finished today!

Daily Update

2010-05-26T19:02:00.001-04:00

It's been a while since I actually did an update regarding everything that is going on in our daily lives. I thought for the next couple of weeks, that I would shift my energies that direction as we prepare for our June 12th Open House!

The past week has been a whirlwind. We are winding down from Foaling Season but I find I am having some trouble readjusting to sleeping all night. I still wake in the middle of the night and lie there waiting for the phone to ring. Surely there is a mare foaling somewhere. Sleeping with the laptop at my bedside is a January to May habit that needs to be broken post haste. I have absolutely no business checking my e-mails or Facebook updates at 3:00am. Nor do I really need to check Turner Classic Movie Channel only to find an old movie that I just have to watch. There is too much to accomplish in the daylight for me to also have a secret middle of the night life.

The Open House gave us a good excuse to make small repairs as well as clean, spiff, and refurbish fixtures. There is a master list of tidying up that we've begun checking off. The usual items such as mowing, spraying, and weed-eating are on there as well as a few tasks which were in sore need of completion. Painting doors, landscaping, planting flowers have been added to chores such as grooming, clipping, riding, and lunging horses.

The foals which were born a few months ago are growing tall and strong. They have been practicing walking nicely on lead ropes, getting their feet picked up for the farrier, and learning all of the things that baby show horses must learn. Many/most of the foals have begun to travel to their owner's homes but there are several who are still with us. Audry, Eden, Tally, Vegas, Cam, Sundae to name a few- they are each beginning to show their own little personalities and we are enjoying getting to know them individually now.

Maxim the tall yearling was injured last week in a pasture incident and he is now home from the Horse Hospital and beginning to walk down the long Recovery Road. He has a catheter sewn into his neck and is receiving IV antibiotics 4 times each day as well as regular bandage changes. His yearling friends- Amber, Jude, Hotrod, Smooch are all in various stages of life from growing up to actually beginning future show horse training.

At the barn, the training continues. Lessons continue. Amber is preparing several students to compete at their District 4-H Horse Show. If they do well there, they will earn the opportunity to compete at the Kentucky State 4-H Horse Show. Tensions always run high when horses, moms, and teenagers are put together. I'll let you know how that works out.

And those are the highlights of what we've been doing. Stay tuned for more to come!

Khris

Top Ten List of Reasons to Attend Our Open House

2010-05-25T19:46:00.000-04:00

This is a top ten list of reasons to attend our Open House on June 12th! Everyone is invited- come one come all.

10. All the fun people will be there
9. Horses horses horses
8. Great way to spend a Saturday
7. New Friends/Old Friends
6. Petting Zoo
5. Prizes and Games
4. Corn Hole
3. Gary Trubee clinic
2. Chevy will be there.
and the #1 reason to attend our Open House....
All the Animals will be waiting for you!

Paparazzi

2010-05-24T21:54:00.001-04:00

Paparazzi can be found stalking the celebrities who live at Fields Quarter Horses. These are some of the images they've captured in the past few days.

Cooper caught moonlighting as lead singer in an 80's Rock band.

Celebrity daughter binges and gains 50 pounds! All in her rump.

Hollywood Starlet caught wasted after night on the town.

Actor reported in stable condition after checking into hospital.

And, finally

Alien Invasion...prepare for the End of The World as You Know It, Ringo!

Some Day

2010-05-23T21:16:00.002-04:00

(This is the story of a young stallion at Fields Quarter Horses named HotRod. The life of a young stallion can be frustrating at times as they grow and mature- especially living on a breeding farm!)

HotRod was a dark brown, almost black colt with soft deep brown eyes. He was a stallion but gentle and kind. He played alongside the other colts in the herd and together the juveniles grew strong and learned to be horses. They wrestled and raced and spent long days in the Kentucky sun.

For as long as he could remember, HotRod had loved the red mare. He had met her when he was but a young horse, barely weaned from his mother. He stood in the pasture beside hers and was mesmerized by the way the wind lifted her reddish blond mane in its caress. Her laughter floated to him across the grass and his heart forgot to beat for a moment. He lifted his black muzzle into the air and her scent called to him like a familiar melody. It played on the wind as it rolled across the grassy expanse and captured him in an invisible snare. He was unable to move as it surrounded and engulfed and enslaved him.

She was older than he by just a foal crop or two and she wore her age with confidence and maturity. She was in the prime of her life and was strong and beautiful. She had come to the farm earlier this year and was meant for the older stallion- she was not here for HotRod. Still, her essence called to him like a siren. Each day he waited beside the fence hoping for a glimpse, a casual hello, the briefest encounter. His life was pieced together by moments stolen with the red mare.

She knew that the young stallion adored her and casually tossed him an occasional glance. Some days, she was bolder and turned her body so that he could see her long flaxen tail. As he grew older, it became nearly painful for him to breathe her aroma. Yet it was even more painful for him to not see her so he endured. As he grew stronger, he became frustrated. He wanted the red mare for his own. He quarreled with his friends more often. He argued more often with the humans who cared for him. He began to think of nothing else but possessing her for his own.

HotRod began to despair. Surely he would never have such a lovely mare to call his own. He watched the group of mares canter down the hill in the paddock next door and toward the fence where he stood alone. As a herd, the mares broke into a trot and then to a walk and moved slowly past the small brown stallion. He pensively watched the red mare on the edge of the herd thinking how lovely she was. As she passed him, she inclined her head toward him for the briefest moment and whispered, "Someday, little one. Some day."

14 Days

2010-05-21T13:23:00.001-04:00

Today's blog is a guest blog by a friend and customer who visited us this Spring. Here is her accounting of her time spent at Fields Quarter Horses! Written by Debbie Spork.

1. I have lambed, calved and babied (as in human....new use for the word). All I was wanting to do was foal. Ladies was that asking too much?

2. For 14 days in March and April, I lived and worked at Field's Quarter Horses. It was fun, exhausting and a learning experience. I was hoping to get lots of hands on foaling and although only KC cooperated, there were still things learned.

3. How phenomenal Chevy really is and how talented, quiet and beautiful his foals are. (Not new knowledge)

4. Khris and Wayne drink A LOT of caffeine.........and I mean A LOT.

5. How to clean stalls bedded with straw. ( I got really good).

6. What a red bag looks like. (Early separation of placenta.....not good for baby)

7. How to treat the above. (Watch baby for signs of brain swelling. Treat baby with IV DMSO. Check IGG level on baby to check if he received enough colostrum.)

8. Learned to look not only for slower activity in a dummy foal, but also ankle swelling as a precursor of brain swelling.

9. What Placentitis looks like. (Yuck)

10. How to treat above. (uterine lavage for mama, SMZs for baby)

11. The procedure for collecting Chevy at Rood and Riddle and how the semen is processed in the lab for shipment. (Very interesting!)

12. Did I mention how much caffeine Khris and Wayne drink?

13. What a great lesson Gary Trubee gives and how talented he is as a horse trainer. How lucky Fields Quarter Horses is to have him at their facility and what a great opportunity for Amber to work with one of the best.

14. While moving loads of hay in the pickup, learned how strong a little piece baling twine really is. (At times, really thought we were going to loose the load)

15.How cute Shelties are..... (Heidi you can come live with me anytime)

16. How to do milk testing.

17. During foaling season, breakfast is at Waffle House.

18. How busy Khris and Wayne are during foaling season, hence the GALLONS OF CAFFEINE they consume.

19. How much caffeine I should have been drinking.

Last spring a friend and I stopped at Fields for 2 days. I went to see Sage and her foal Myah. While there I bought Chevy Metal. During that visit I was hoping to help with foaling. None of the mares cooperated. This year, I figured if I stayed 2 weeks during breeding season, I would definitely help foal lots of babies. During my 14 days at Fields Quarter Horses, I worked, learned and gained new friends. My only complaint is that the mares were not given a copy of my itinerary.

And the last thing I learned while at Fields Quarter Horses............................................ full moons, a change in weather or low ph milk testing has no bearing on when a mare is going to foal. Just send Debbie back to New Jersey and they will all start popping.

Thank you Khris and Wayne for the opportunity.
Debbie Spork
Owner of future World Champion Stallion, Chevy Metal, aka Ozzy.

The Loyal Shepherd Dog

2010-05-20T17:57:00.000-04:00

Sugar sat quietly looking through the glass on the lower part of the door. She was a small dog and when sitting, looked through the lowest square panes on the french style doors. Her brown coat was rimmed by a white scarf of hair- thick and dense. She looked like a miniature Lassie but when she spoke, her decidedly Scottish accent and diminutive size revealed her to be a Shetland Sheepdog. Her eyes had been a deep rich brown in her younger days but now were lightening with age and looked more like weak coffee with a hint of creamer.

Although her eyes were aging, her senses were keen as ever and she scanned the doorway for the object of her regard. Brittney had walked outside moments before- carrying her green laundry basket laden with clean clothes. Like all small shepherd dogs, Sugar was a creature of habit and she knew this habit well. Brittney carried arms full of belongings to her white Ford Ranger sitting just outside until there were no more bundles. Sugar looked pensively at the Ranger- maybe today she was going for a ride in the truck as well. They loved their car rides together, windows down, singing slightly off key to the blarring radio. They had spent Brittney's high school years taking many such rides but those yearshad passed and now they were a rarity.

These days Brittney attended college several hours away and her visits home were not frequent. As the girl grew into a woman, the little Shepherd dog grew gray around the corners of her mouth. The dog slept more and played less. On weekends when Brittney came home, she did not leave her side. She followed her about and was rarely farther than arms length from her master.

Brittney kissed her mom and dad, hugged the little dog and packed herself into the truck for her departure back to school. The little dog sat for a long moment watching the tail lights signal reverse as the white truck backed up and then slowly pulled down the driveway. After a while, there was no sight of the truck. Getting up slowly, Sugar walked down the hallway and looked into the open door of each bedroom. Her small toenails clicked on the wooden floors signaling her whereabouts as she conducted a methodical search of the entire house.

Once satisfied that her girl was indeed no longer there, Sugar stepped down the single carpeted stair into the floor of the family room. She hopped onto the leather sofa and curled into a round ball of brown and white fur. Letting out a long sigh, she closed her eyes and began to dream of the days when she played with little girl.

The Round Up

2010-05-19T21:16:00.004-04:00

The morning dawned to yet another overcast sky. May was usually punctuated with sunshine and flowers and small showers followed by double rainbows. The past few weeks, however, had offered up unusual amounts of rainfall followed by chilly winds and cooler nights. The grass was unaffected by the cooler temperatures and carried out its Springtime march undaunted. This was agreeable to the mares with foals on their sides and they spent long days grazing the green pastures.

Spook was a recipient mare and she had given birth to the embryo belonging to another pair of horses about a month ago. She had carried the foal for 11 months and did not know that Audry was not her genetic daughter. She loved her since before she was born and had proven to be a nurturing protective mother to the muscular red filly. Audry's legs had grown long and strong drinking the large draft cross mare's rich milk. She towered over the other foals her age but then again, her surrogate mother towered over the other mares too.

Spook's past was a mystery to most everyone at the farm. Checkered pieces of history were tossed about here and there- she had been a nurse mare; she had been born in Canada at a Human Hormone Production farm; she had a tattoo on her left hip- these rumors could be neither confirmed nor refuted and her riddle grew in stature. One thing was for certain, she did not trust humans and was not interested in any of the things they offered.

On this day, Audry had a swollen front ankle and the humans needed to take a closer look at it. Spook had lost foals to the humans before and the memory was still fresh. She only knew that the people were interested in her foal and she wanted to keep her away from them. As they walked to her paddock, she instantly sensed that they came with a purpose. She snorted the scent of their intentions loudly and lifted her large head even higher into the air. They approached her and her powerful legs propelled her down the long hill. They followed her- some on foot and some of them in the green machine which moved nearly as fast as she. She was fairly certain as she galloped away that she had secured safety for her and her foal. Yet, they persisted.

As they advanced down the hill and toward her position alongside the swollen creekbed, she galloped freshly to the top of the hill. The small filly followed her obediently, running along her flank in perfect tandem. The humans marched up the hillside and soon were advancing on the pair yet again. This scene played out over and over as the hour progressed. Up the hill. Down the hill. Up the hill. And down the hill again. In due time, the filly was breathing heavily at her mother's side but the mare was too wary to be concerned.

With each scene of the drama- up and down- the people closed the ever smaller circle around the mare. Her freedom was slowly being stolen by their tightening human net. On her next trip up the hill, the mare found herself encircled by a group of five seasoned horsemen. Like a pack of experienced wolves hunting, they advanced on her step by step communicating in quiet hushed tones. In the age old dance of predator versus prey, she stood poised for flight and they held her confused and looking for escape.

In a moment, as she was deciding between flight or the instinct to fight for her foal, a loud snap echoed across the grassy knoll. SNAP. And the trap was closed. The lead rope connected to the large mare's halter and the game was over. She had been caught and her life of servitude to man beckoned her to walk quietly beside the man as he led her toward the gate.

The mare and foal walked into the barn and soon, the group of people were snapping x-rays of the foal's ankle. Then, they rubbed an offensive smelling ointment on the leg. As the lead rope released from Spook's halter and she dove greedily into the delicious smelling pile of hay in her stall, she vaguely remembered that she had been displeased about something. Forgetting what her uneasiness from earlier had stemmed from, she dropped her large head back into the waiting alfalfa and grabbed another mouthful.

(As a side note: Spook's filly Audry had a swollen ankle. After the round up which lasted nearly and hour and took an entire crew, Dr. Mather snapped some x-rays and it proved to be just a "whack" on the leg. She received liniment on the leg to reduce inflammation and is expected to make a complete return to normal within the next day or two!)

Smile...though your heart is aching.

2010-05-18T19:53:00.002-04:00

The Equine Dentist visited the farm a couple of days ago. His name is Mr. Nice (really, truly) and he brushed, flossed, and handed out toothbrushes to his horsey patients. Equine dentistry is a field that has grown exponentially as we have learned more about the care and keeping of our equine friends. Regular dentistry improves the horse's health and overall quality of life. For our show horses, keeping their teeth in good working order ensures that there are no roadblocks when it comes to wearing a bridle and learning to yield to hand cues.

Here are a few horsey dental facts:
Observation of horses teeth dates back over 2000 years.
Floating of horses teeth (which is smoothing out the uneven edges) dates as far back in England to the 1600's.
The Germans had equine dental charts from the 1800's.
Floats and other instruments have been dated back to 1817.
Power tools have existed since 1895.
A horse's teeth continue to erupt their entire life at the rate of about 1/8th of an inch/year.

Mr. Nice comes with a menacing array of dental toys and devices that would intimidate even the most stalwart patient. His thorough exam identifies areas of the mouth where the teeth may be causing abrasions to the cheek, not wearing evenly with one another, or perhaps an occasional reluctant baby tooth on a young horse. Below are photos of Chevy during his routine dental exam.

Oh Give Me Land

2010-05-17T20:10:00.001-04:00

lots of land under starry skys above...you know the rest. We are in phase 3 of our master pasture plan and are in the process of adding some additional grazing areas to those which the horses already enjoy. The new fencing projects will produce 3 new paddocks and we are very excited to get them finished and open to the horses. Each of the new paddocks are over 10 acres and are standing freshly mowed just waiting for hungry equines to forage to their horsey hearts desires.

This weekend, the existing pastures were also mowed. We take our grass rather seriously- it's an important part of our equine friends lifestyle. Each pasture is carefully managed to make sure that it grows at optimum levels and is grazed then rested in a manner which will allows it to accommodate horses year-round. There are a few tips that we've picked up through the years which keep our grass lush, thick, and healthy.

Each pasture is groomed (mowed) regularly and maintained with the grass at 4 inches. Scientifically speaking for our area of the United States, this is proven to keep grass growing at its peak. They are rested whenever they reach nearly 30% and will usually recover within 30 days. For each active pasture of grazing horses, there is another being rested at all times. The new pastures are new, thick and lush and this year (at least) will be able to house 6-7 horses for quite a while.

Their dappled coats will ripple over waves of fat on their backs as they lift their heads only long enough to say hello. Then, the mares will drop their muzzles back into Kentucky's green gourmet and munch the Summer months away.

Facebook At Fields

2010-05-16T17:30:00.002-04:00

I thought for fun, that I would create a social application for Fields Quarter Horses so that the animals could participate in Facebook just for once. Brittney and I asked each of the animals for status updates and allowed them to have pretend Facebook accounts just for the day. Here's what we got!

Status Updates:
Chevy is wondering if he can sit at the bow of a boat and yell "I'm the King of the World" at the top of his lungs.
           Ringo (and 3 others) like this.
           Comments:            Delilah says "Can I be your Rose?"
                                        Sunny says "You are my King."
                                        Delilah says "Sunny, you are a slut."

Rondo the Poodle is getting a haircut. Text me.

Cooper the Tall horse feels diminutive today.

Brownie is all warm and fuzzy. She thinks she wants a date with Chevy.
   Comments:    Delilah says "Brownie, you are a slut."

Ringo says this is stupid, he will just steal the computer and create his own Facebook account.

Sebastian is feeling a little homesick today.
           Comments:            Kathy says "We love and miss you, son."

Kramer is wondering when he will go to a horse show.
           Tara Lytle likes this.

Jude wants to know what Facebook is?
           Judy Mollner (and 2 others) like this.

Red Cline and Grey Ottman wish they could have a Chevy foal.
           Comments:            Delilah says "You are both sluts."

Cam wishes his mother was nice.

Delilah joined the group People Who Want a Dislike Button for Facebook.

Ringo is pimpin'- raccoon style.
            Chevy likes this.

Heidi the Sheltie wants to know if Facebook is something she can eat.
            Comments:            Sandi Kempton says "GAHHH!"
                                         Brittney Fields says "Shut up, Heidi."
                                         Heidi says "You shut up, Brittney."

George the Llama has joined Farmville. He needs 10 nails, 4 boards, and a goat.

Nona the Nurse Mare is leavin' on a jet plane.
            Comments:            Tilly Baldwin says "We'll miss you!"
                                         Boo says "Say hello to Vermont for me."
   Eden says "Gaa Gaa, Goo Goo."

Sugar the Sheltie is sending a Big Bag O' Hearts to her favorite girl Brittney.

Guenther the Gelding is sending a big shout-out to his boys from Da Hood.
            Amber Tewell likes this.

And that's a little bit of Farm Style Facebooking from Fields Quarter Horses...until next time: Adios!

Open House

2010-05-13T18:53:00.000-04:00

Not a particularly noteworthy news day- buuuutt, we are planning an open house on June 12th and invite each and every one of you to attend! There will be Free riding clinics with legendary AQHA Professional Horseman Gary Trubee, Open Horse Days (where you can visit and get to know a horse up close and personal), Door Prizes, Pony Rides, and of course, lots of nice people to get to know.

It seems that there will be a nice number of Chevy offspring owners attending and it will be a blast to hear everyone share their stories. Family and friends- both horse and otherwise- will be there so pack your bags, load up the wagons, pull out the maps, and set sail for Kentucky in June! Hope to see you there- we really do.

Making Sunshine

2010-05-12T20:21:00.000-04:00

This is the recipe for Sunshine...horse style.

Take one Palomino mare.
Add a sprinkle of Show Record.
Add a dash of high quality pedigree.
Shake well.
Mix with 2 parts Chevy semen.
Stir well with an insemination pipette.
Bake for 340 days.
Remove from heat promptly when timer goes off.
Should rise within 20 minutes.
Sugar lightly before serving and ENJOY!

The United Nations

2010-05-11T17:23:00.000-04:00

I like to think we are an equal opportunity farm- there is equal opportunity for all animals, despite race or creed, to live here. After all, we have a backwoods Appalachian Raccoon, an African Pygmy Hedgehog will be moving in soon, there is the Latin lover Jorge the Llama, the always neutral Bernese Mountain Dog who hails from the Alps, a Standard Poodle who likes to kiss people on both cheeks, and a bevy of little Shetland Sheepdogs who have tried very hard but been unsuccessful at losing their rich Scottish accents.

So, one would believe that we have all of our bases covered. The Senate of horses housed here hail from the four corners of the United States of America with origins from California to the Eastern Shores. I, however, feel there is one corner of the Earth that is not represented- and that is the Desert. I've begged; I've pleaded; I've pouted; I've been compelling; but, alas, I cannot coerce my husband into allowing me to own a camel. I have dreams of how cute he would be. Dreams of teaching him to cush (lie down) on command, and accept a rider. I have researched the proposition and understand that they are agreeable with our climates. I even understand that they can learn to cohabitate with horses fairly well. Therefore, it seems to me to be a natural addition to our animal kingdom.

But, since I won the recent debate regarding trees and allowing our woods to be logged, I have learned that it is better to lie in wait on this one. Patience is a virtue; and maybe, just maybe, will yield me a camel.

Tough Love: Couples

2010-05-10T20:43:00.001-04:00

Delilah could not contain the fury which bubbled up into her throat. The blonde mare was accustomed to the stallion looking at her when she was outside in the paddocks. She would toss her white mane as she lowered her head to graze so that her forelock fell just so between her eyes. When she stood with her tail to the wind, the creamy hair blew across her golden Palomino coat. He had told her once that she looked like a Greek goddess horse- or at least one which a Grecian goddess may ride upon. She liked the sound of the stallion's voice as he crooned to her from his secure paddock across the way.

He sang to her. He shouted to her. He called out his emotions for all the farm to hear. She normally lowered her long dark lashes against her yellow face in a coy manuever meant to drive him crazy with love. But today, she could not control her ire and did not feel pretty. Chevy had eyes for another blonde horse.

Sunny had arrived at the farm about a month before and like Delilah, she was a new mother. She and Delilah had become fast friends- neither had ever had another Palomino friend and they found common ground on many subjects. Like school girls, they whispered and giggled from their stalls at night. By day, they walked to the grassy paddock and watched their sons play around them. Little yellow replicas of the mares, the two colts had been born within 4 days of one another and were half brothers.

Delilah had become comfortable with her beauty. She was a city horse and had been a show horse just a few years ago. Sunny, on the other hand, was a country flower. She was comfortable in the shadow of Delilah's beauty and fame. But today, her own beauty beckoned to the stallion. She felt particularly special as he pranced and called to her.

Sunny practiced a toss of her head- mimicking Delilah but did not quite pull it off. She glanced around her to see if anyone had witnessed her awkward attempt at flirting with the sorrel stallion. She lifted her tail in a reflexive movement and he nearly climbed the tall boards which contained him in his private enclosure. Sensing his interest, she lifted her tail higher and thrust her head into the air.

The rivalry between the blonde horses reached a new pitch as Delilah let out a whinny and tried to ignore the fact that her voice seemed shrill to her own ears. Sunny ignored the mare to her left and stretched her tail farther above her back- wondering if she looked sexy as she did so. In answer to her unspoken query, Chevy spoke his approval loudly. Feeling invisible now- Delilah moved forward and pulled her head and neck upward- looking as regal and graceful as she possibly could. Still, the stallion voiced his approval of the other mare.

Suddenly, the menage trois was broken by the harsh sound of a brass snap on Sunny's halter. "Come on, yella," Gary spoke to her as he led her from the paddock. "Looks like today's your lucky day." And they walked together toward the barn and the white truck where the veterinarian waited for them.

(Sunny was AIed on Friday and will be having another Chevy foal in 2011!) Here is a picture of the girls this afternoon with their little Chevy colts!

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T13:23:00.000-04:00

The sunshine woke up early today or so it seemed. She creeped over the horizon line trying not to wake the babies who were sleeping at the feet of their mothers. Slowly, as if she were embarrassed of her brilliance, she spread across the ground toward the sleeping foals. One by one, each pair was bathed in her invisible warmth. The mares stood quietly as the sun crawled up their rumps, across their backs, and then past their ears. Each of them stood like a statue with her sleeping foal curled into a ball at her front feet. They dozed as a group knowing that they were safe but instinct demanded that they stand guard over their respective offspring.

As if they came to life with the either the warmth or the glow of the sun, each small horse opened his eyes and yawned. Long legs stretched and the sound slumber shared by all infants fell away to welcome the day. As each foal rose to stand beside his mother, the sun now looked across the meadow at them. Quiet suckles filled the stillness of the morning and the mothers fed their babies. It was Mother's Day- but the horses did not know it. They began each day much the same.

Solitary Man

2010-05-08T21:30:00.000-04:00

He stepped into the barn aisle and inhaled deeply. A surplus of scents moved invisibly across the fine hairs inside his soft nostrils. He filtered them methodically- noting the musky scent of the new horse who had arrived yesterday, the tangy odor from the breath of a neighbor who had received antibiotics earlier today, the acrid smell of death from a recent kill by the cat. The person beside him spoke in a quiet tone- he liked it when the people spoke to him. Chevy rarely knew that they were saying- just picking out a random phrase here and there- but liked the soft tones that were usually directed his way. They fell onto his soul like a tenor hand stroking his heart.

The red horse did not realize the impression that he made as he walked quietly beside the smallish man. He passed beneath the beams of sunlight which streamed through skylights and his short hair glistened an even brighter shade for a moment. Beneath the slick coat, the thick muscles of the stallion moved in a symphony of power and strength. Clp, clop clop, Clp, clop, clop. His feet accompanied him by tapping out a rhythm.

Chevy was an oddity of sorts. He was a mature breeding stallion: masculine, muscular, physical, and perfection. However, he was gentle and peace-loving. He avoided conflict and confrontation. His testosterone served nature's purpose but none other. It did not seep into his kind and easy attitude. The other horses in the barn already knew this about him. They knew that he best liked Neil Diamond songs on the radio, that he still remembered and loved his mother; they knew that he preferred to curl into a ball like a foal to sleep, and that he enjoyed playing with his ball toy in his stall.

In a different time, he would most likely have not sired foals. He could not, nay, would not, have challenged another stallion for the right to breed a mare. He would have happily roamed a prairie eating grass and taking long naps in the sunshine. But it was not another time. People decided which horses would have an opportunity to reproduce. And therefore, the same traits which may have prevented him from siring foals in the wild, caused him to have the opportunity to do so now. His slow nature, gentle attitude, and willingness to work alongside people ensured that his genetics would carry on.

The pair reached the end of the barn and walked out into the mid-morning sunshine. Just outside the barn doorway, sat the red truck with small black horse trailer tagging along behind. The door to the trailer was swung wide open and Chevy paused for only a moment before he stepped his front feet into its entrance. With agility that even a large cat would have envied, he quietly lifted his rear in a single hop that should have made a sound on the trailer floor but did not.

He dropped his head anticipating the familiar snap of brass beneath his chin and settled himself comfortably for the ride. The people standing outside spoke briefly and then the door behind him latched and blocked the sunshine from following him inside. He looked lazily ahead as the truck wheels began to turn. He saw the green countryside begin to move and closed his eyes for a nap. And he dreamt of grazing upon a prairie.

(Chevy makes a trailer trip about 3 days each week to Rood & Riddle to have his semen collected and prepared for shipping to mares around the United States and Canada. He has enjoyed this routine for 4 of his 5 breeding seasons and loves to travel.)

Tall Tails

2010-05-04T12:17:00.000-04:00

This year at Fields Quarter Horses, there are some tall tails runnng around. I'm not talking about the kind which are told at a campfire, I'm speaking about the height of some of the horses at the farm. I've become accustommed to looking up at a few of our residents. In fact, I think if I were looking down from their backs, I may get a nose bleed. Here's a break down from largest to smallest of some of our guests!

Tilly: A mare who foaled an equally long legged filly last month, Tilly tops the charts by towering over everyone and thing at the farm. She is over 17.2 hands tall at the withers. Her withers are waaaayyyyy above the top of my head and I would have to use a small step ladder just to touch her ears!

Maggie: This mare has come to the farm for breeding and she is a Thoroughbred who formerly raced. We call her Maggie Giraffe (I'll let you figure that one out). She comes with the largest step and the smallest brain of any of our residents. Anything that we do with Maggie usually involves a process and a team.

Cooper: A mere two years old, Cooper garners third place honors in the who leaves from the highest branch category. Cooper is an easy 17.1 hands at the withers and is staying over for a while following minor surgery for some growth related issues. He is a gentle giant who recently discovered that prefers to graze from trees rather than lush green pastures. I suppose that to him, it seems efficient.

Spook: Recently of Foaling Camera fame, Spook it the resident embryo recipient mare along with her all-grown up no embryo named Audry. Spook is some sort of draft mix with blue eyes, a bald face, and expansive body. She tops the charts as the heftiest horse on the farm also.

Kramer: His registered name is Chevromotion and he is from the first foal crop of Chevy. This 3 year old soon-to-be show horse is now a wohopping 16.1 hands and still growing. He is beautiful, talented, and very Chevy-ish, just with a much larger version of the trot!

And from there we will skip over the other horses until we reach the smallest (or end of the line if you prefer). Cooper the Mini Stallion is the farm's teaser. He stands a neat 7 hands tall but makes up for his loss of size with a big attitude.

So, that's a view of the horses from the top! It's exciting to get to work with so many different shapes and sizes but I must say that it's both amazing and intimidating to walk beside these giants sometimes. I am reminded that they choose to be our friends!

Rainy Days and Mondays

2010-05-03T07:12:00.000-04:00

...always get me down. We've had torrential rainfall the past few days. If you live near us, you have experienced it; if you watch the news, you've probably heard about it. I wonder if life means to mirror nature. I had a terrible disappointment personally over the weekend and cried for the first time in ages. As torrential rain poured and the gutters lost their battle to manage it, I could not stop the tears. Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the person who let me down so badly- either way, I am absolutely certain that I prefer sunny days. Now, Wayne tells me that we needed the rain. The hay crops were begging and the farmers are thankful. I'm going to reflect on my disappointment for a bit and see if there is indeed anything about it for which I should be thankful. But for now, it's Monday; it's rainy; and I'm sad. I've decided that life is messy, sometimes rotten, and can actually hurt so bad that we don't know how we will endure it. But we do and when it's all said and done seem to forget the worst parts. For that, I can be thankful.

Welcome To The World, Little Horse

2010-05-02T07:57:00.000-04:00

I dreamt of you.
And then I waited
For eleven long months.
Welcome to the world, little horse.

Beautiful Mother-
Champion Father.
You are petite perfection.
Welcome to the world, little horse.

Tiny hooves and
Fairy fine mane,
Your legs are strong.
Welcome to the world, little horse.

I will ride you someday
to the winner's circle
But not tonight,
Welcome to the world, little horse.

My literary talents do not really lean toward rhyme and verse. But, on occasion, I take a stab at it. Thank you for indulging me-Khris

Let's Get It On

2010-05-01T17:14:00.000-04:00

Hello. This is Ringo the Raccoon. I am heer to air my greevances. I hurd the cats talking and think my mother is bringing a new critter to our home. I found a picture of the newborn thing on her compooter. It is a Hog of the Hedge. She will expect me to smile and play nice. She will require that I share. Well, I'm drawing a line in the litterbox- there will be no Mr. Nicey Face Fakey Bleeding Heart Lookin At The Cute Little Baby Hedgehog Raccoons at my house. I will beat him up if he so much as looks at my marshmallows. She is naming him Barry White and all I can say is, Baby Hedgehog- watch your step. I am the King Pin at Fields Quarter Horses and I am not looking for a deputy. Hedgehogs beware.

Spy Games

2010-04-26T19:42:00.000-04:00

The night was so dark that even the moon did not dare show herself. She lay low on the horizon, barely peeking her russet top over the trees. As I stepped outside into the darkness, I paused a moment and waited for the familiar slap of crisp air to strike my cheeks. I inhaled cool and smelled night. Then I let out a warm breath- carrying away the sleep shroud that surrounded me a moment before. I was on a mission and must not be distracted by this sharp assault to my senses.

I slipped my bare feet into the worn tennis shoes which were lying on the covered porch just to the left of the doorway. I had left them placed just so earlier in the evening and now my feet found their mark with ease in the darkness. Feeling the familiar sensation of my toes against the rough fabric inside the Nikes, I stepped lightly across the concrete porch then down to the earth at its edge. Noiselessly, my old tennis shoes carried me through the dark and toward the yellow light glowing at the corner of the foaling barn.

Before I reached the source of the light, I came to a familiar barrier. Stealthily, I grasped the cold link of chain which held the gate closed and lifted it from where it rested on the red metal. Expecting a squeak, I pushed the gate open slowly and carefully and was surprised by the silence. My mission called for complete secrecy- I must become as invisible as the mist which likely was swirling around the pre-dawn ground. I stepped forward placing each foot onto the concrete path with care.

I momentarily empathized with a large cat stalking its prey. My sense of urgency to reach my goal battled my mind's call to remain silent and invisible. I was a spy and on an essential mission. Many people depended on the success of this venture. Quietly, I lowered each heel then allowed my weight to roll forward onto my toe. Each step silently carried me closer to the open doorway of the barn and to the information I sought.

Upon reaching the doorway, I noted that my shadow followed me into the opening. Together, we entered and walked the few feet to the the mare's stall. My eyes were still adjusting from the darkness of the yard to the brilliant flourescent lighting above her but my other senses were keen- I heard the mare's steady breathing as my pupils played catch up.

There lay Delilah staring back at me. She was a creamy palomino mare with a penchant for a secret. She had evaded being caught in labor for several days now. Her craving for privacy did not satisfy my need to help her deliver her foal. We had played out this game of cat and mouse more times than I could tell over the past few days. She would seem to be uncomfortable and lie down to rest- but when she realized that I approached the barn, she would jump up and nonchalantly nibble her hay. The cameras mounted above her stall were my ally in watching her secrets. And they were my only link to her clandestine activities.

This time, however, I had foiled her plan. Using my best ninja walk and with the music to Mission Impossible resounding in my head, I had slinked and sneaked until I was upon her. I had been successful and reveled in the knowledge that I had achieved my goal of observing Delilah in labor at last. Then, I realized that I was observing Delilah in labor. And my spy games were over- it was time to deliver a foal!

Top Ten List...

2010-04-25T10:42:00.000-04:00

for a Sunday morning. These are the top ten things that I am thankful for today...

10.Breeding season is almost over,
9 There are more mares waiting to check in,
8. Delilah had a gorgeous palomino colt last night,
7. Ringo is almost finished with rut,
6. The $1.00 menu at McDonalds,
5. Everyone showed up for work yesterday,
4. Everyone showed up for work today,
3. All of my kids will be home and together for the first time in months next Sunday,
2. Foaling season is almost over,
and the #1 thing that I am thankful for today is...
my health, family, friends, horses, businesses and life.

Tilly

2010-04-24T14:55:00.000-04:00

The big brown mare towered over everyone and everything around her. As long as she could remember, she looked down upon the rest of the world. In the manner of man and his inclination toward measurements, she was determined to be 17.3 hands tall. In the manner of horses, there were few American Quarter Horses (even those with some Thoroughbred heritage like her who were as tall as she). Although she was a veritable giant, Tilly was a kind and childish mare. She had spent a brief part of her life as a show horse carrying a rider in refined English garb mounted on a tiny postage stamp leather saddle. But, now she was going to be a dam. Her first foal would be arriving tonight and she was apprehensive.

Tilly paced back and forth in the stall- trying to relieve the nervous tension as well as the tightening band around her midsection. Over the past few weeks, she had seen the other mares take their turns becoming mothers. One by one they had foaled in the stalls around her, some easy but some difficult, and Tilly had become unsure. She knew that her time was approaching and because she was a maiden, she did not know what to do or expect in the next few hours.

The band of muscles tightened again around her belly and Tilly's knees buckled for a moment. Suddenly, she felt very tall and thought to lie down. She circled the stall to find a spot that suited her and settled upon an extra fluffy area in the back corner. She paused for a split second, then curled her front and hind legs simultaneously and landed rather ungracefully in the yellow pile of straw beneath her with a "whoosh".

This time the band tightened more harshly and she noticed that it was more painful. She turned her head backwards to look at her sides trying to determine the source of her discomfort. Curling her knees ever more tightly against her body, she let out a long breath. Brittney snapped a lead rope to the brass ring at the base of her halter and asked her to rise. Tilly disagreed with the plan and lay down flat on her side- this time feeling an overwhelming urge to push. With each contraction, she strained hard and arched her back. With every push and stiffening of her hind legs, her rear end moved closer and closer to the wall behind her.

Soon, both foaling attendants were insisting that she stand. Tilly was focused on the singular urge within her body which demanded that she push NOW! She bore down with the band of muscle and hormones now and was barely aware of the people. She had unwittingly shifted her three quarters of a ton body until her rear end was wedged firmly against the wall of the stall. With each tremendous push, the unborn foal was pushed against the unmovable oaken barrier. Brittney frantically tugged and pulled to encourage Tilly to stand so that the waiting foal had room to be born. Khris dangerously squeezed past the large mare's large hooves as they rammed backwards with each strong push to grasp the tiny white hooves which were trying to emerge from the mare. Between the mare's buttocks, there was a small area which she began to manipulate the foal into. Pulling downwards with each heavy contraction, she brought the foal out of the mare and down between her hind legs until the chest was exposed and only the hips remained inside the mare.

Then, there was no more room. The already tight area between the mare, the wall, and the empty space between the mare's buttocks were all full of foal. Now, if the mare were to rise, the foal was at risk of being injured. Her hind limbs were still imprisoned in the mare and could rip, tear, or damage her delicate rectal tissues which lie just above the birth canal. Exhausted from the effort of pulling the squeezed foal halfway out of the mare, Khris moved to her head to ensure that she did not rise and Brittney phoned for backup. The mare must be moved and this was not a job for two people. They waited and rested- humans, mare, and foal alike for more help to arrive.

Within moments, Wayne entered the stall and a plan was formulated. Tilly still felt the strong contractions and knew her job was not finished. She continued to strain and push- unaware of the scrambled activity around her. Wayne and Brittney attached a cotton rope to her hind legs and with a huge effort, pulled Tilly's rear legs forward trying to gain any free space. Then, Wayne was able to pull the foal's hips from the mare. The entire group stood gasping from effort, adrenaline, and exhaustion. The tiny red and white foal began her life's dance as her long limbs flailed in front of her.

Tilly closed her eyes in relief and breathed deep heavy breaths- relieved that the force and pain were gone instantly. She noticed the small horse in the straw beside her and nickered a faint greeting. The filly nickered back memorizing the sound of her mother's voice. The people jumped into their routine of releasing the foal's umbilical cord, harvesting colostrum for the foal's first nutrients, and other intrusions that seemed necessary to a person. Soon, mother and foal were lying nose to nose and meeting one another for the first time.

(This is the accounting of Tilly's delivery. She foaled against the wall and we were unable to get her up to reposition her body. Although Tilly would have delivered the foal easily, her proclivity to lie in corners and against the wall would have been the demise of her filly if this foaling was unattended. She was hell bent on pushing and likely because she was a maiden mare, actually thought to push her rear end against the wall to relieve the discomfort. As you watch our foaling cams, you will notice that mares in labor often push and rub their tails against the stall walls in an effort to rub away the pain. As a side note to foaling attendants, maiden mares often get themselves into precarious positions during foalings and it is important to try to get them up and repositioned before they begin the final stages of labor!)

I Can't Feel My Legs

2010-04-23T11:11:00.000-04:00

Skippa was an unusually large Quarter Horse mare. She came to our farm with a checkered past- large pieces of her life had been lost as she was transferred from one owner to the next over the course of fourteen years. She checked into Fields Quarter Horses on a Sunday afternoon just a month before she was due to deliver her maiden foal.

She settled into the routine of the foaling farm quickly. She watched the weather change from dull Winter to bright Spring as the foal in her womb grew larger and closer to insisting on freedom. Perhaps due to her size or maybe because she was just a bully, Skippa often intimidated the other mares in the foaling barn. She was quick to sneer as they passed her stall front and even quicker to turn her giant haunches toward them if they dared step into the space she claimed.

The big red mare was irritable and quick to anger and grew tired of waiting. In the way of an animal, she did not know what she waited for, but knew that something was impending. There came a day at the foaling barn which was very busy. The people fussed about with a strange mare for long hours and then there was a hush. A tiny voice at the far end of the barn called out for a mother- but no one recognized it and thus did not answer. Then, as the evening drew late, another large mare named Tilly foaled in the stall across from her. There was more bustling about, and it seemed there would never be any peace in the barn.

Skippa had been feeling a tightening band around her abdomen since dinner. It clamped and released, clamped and released. With each passing moment, the band closed harder and harder around her. She kicked her hind feet. She bit at the wall. Showing her displeasure did not cause the discomfort to ease. After a while, the people left and the barn became quiet again. There were rustling sounds as mares nosed the floors of their stalls for strands of green hay. The orphan foal called quietly into the night but there was still no answer- no one recognized his voice. Across the aisle, Tilly cooed and nickered to her newborn filly in the stillness.

Skippa was overcome with an urge to lie down as the band closed so hard that her breathing became labored. She turned her head to look at her bulging side. Just as instinct told her to push, the people came back into her stall. She briefly noticed them but her pain caused her not to care.

Khris saw the tiny feet protruding from the big mare but noted that they did not move forward as the mare pushed. Quickly, the team of three formed a plan to help deliver the foal. Brittney snapped a brown lead rope onto Skippa's halter and Khris and Rachel began to pull with each hard contraction. With each pull, more of the imprisoned foal was exposed. Soon, they had two legs and a little pink nose beginning to protrude from the mare. Inside the mare, the foal's shoulders hit Skippa's pelvic wall as she pushed down hard. Khris felt the block and began to shift the foal's legs to help ease the bulky shoulders through the bony opening. Pulling one leg even farther forward, she pushed the second leg back into the mare to slant the foal's elbows ever so slightly- then she and Rachel pulled hard. A loud pop sounded out of place in the stall but the attendants knew from experience that the elbow lock had released. They pulled with the mare's contractions one more time and the newborn's chest rushed forward from the mare. The red roan filly lay partially contained in her amniotic sac with her hind legs still inside her mother. The umbilical cord connected them- as it had since her embryonic state many months before. It pulsed the final gift of life and blood from dam to foal.

Skippa felt the release as the foal spurted out in her final push. Instantly, the pain eased. In that moment, she became aware of the wriggling creature at her hip. Overcome with exotic new feelings, the mare reacted and in a large movement, swung herself upright to stand on all four feet. In the way that nature intended it to, the umbilical cord snapped and the foal was released from its mother. The amniotic sac fell away from the foal and was left hanging from the rear of the mare. The placenta would need more time and contractions to detach from the mare's uterus and it was important that Skippa not step on the gossamer tissue she was dragging behind her. Brittney stepped away from Skippa's head to retrieve string to tie the placenta and Khris stepped in to hold the lead rope. At the same time, Skippa thought to turn to inspect the tiny wet being on the floor of her stall.

During the difficult delivery, the foal must have pressed upon a nerve in Skippa's spine. The mare was paralyzed and her haunches did not obey. She willed her legs to move but they did not respond. The big mare began to panic- there was a wet, smelly tiny horse in her stall, there were people (and she really didn't like people all that well), and she felt intense pressure in her haunches. She struggled to gain her balance but her hind limbs were giving way under the heavy weight of the horse.

In a moment which was chaos, confusion, and coordination combined, Khris pulled the mare's head forward giving Rachel and Brittney room to whisk the foal from beneath her. Just as they cleared the doorway of the stall carrying the squirming minute-old foal, the big mare fell hard to the floor of the stall. She landed on her hip and the air whooshed from her lungs. As the people assessed the situation, the foal was moved from the aisle of the barn to another softly bedded straw stall. There, she was dried with soft cotton towels and began to flail her legs in the age-old command to stand just moments following birth.

Back in Skippa's stall, the situation was much more grave. Her pulse began to race and her breathing became labored. She was scared and showing signs of shock. Quickly, she was sedated and given medicine to help her relax. Then, carefully, the people began to milk her streaming udder and hand the rich colostrum over to be fed to the waiting foal. Skippa warily watched the process and would like to have moved away but her legs simply did not cooperate. Skippa fought the fear that welled in her throat as she helplessly watched from her position. Once, she curled her front legs tightly and looked like a foal herself. After a bit, she began to relax and did not feel the crushing pain in her hip. She closed her eyes for a short time and dozed from exhaustion. Then, the people brought the damp roan filly and laid it in front of her. For a moment, she forgot that she could not stand. She tentatively tasted the top of the filly's head and was overcome with yet another nameless emotion. She could not stop licking the foal- she did not want to stop.

After an hour or so, Skippa's udder was becoming uncomfortable and she wanted to move. The people came to steady her head and moved the foal safely to the doorway of her stall. She parked her forelegs out and braced herself as she heaved onto her feet. She weaved from side to side and commanded her left hind leg to move outward to brace her weight. It obeyed! Carefully, she shifted her weight to stand on the leg and it supported her. With the same tiny steps of her foal, she tentatively moved in small steps testing to make sure her wobbly legs would support her heft. Soon, the filly stood nursing from her middle-aged mother and the people stood quietly by smiling and thankful that the paralysis had only been temporary. Occasionally, a foal will press upon a nerve in the mare's spine during delivery causing the mare to lose the use of one or both hind limbs. In Skippa's circumstance, the condition lasted almost two hours but she had no lingering effects.

Things that go bump...

2010-04-22T12:28:00.000-04:00

I'll be brief today. Last week, I spent almost every night all nght in the foaling barn alone. It was just me, the mares, and the occassional foal. In the wee hours of the night, a person's mind can play tricks on them. Did I see someone outside the door? Did the horses nicker a welcome to a stranger entering the barn? Am I dreaming or awake and which state is reality?

Those are the imaginings of my mind in the 3:00am hour. It's a lonely time- well, Kathy is on the other end of the cameras and phone. Sandi may be there as well since she works the late late. But, oddly enough- for a few moments in those longest hours of the night- it was easy to imagine that the mares and I were alone and defenseless against my late night visitor. As if time ceased or became very small in his presence, I shunned my dark hour visitor and closed the barn doors.

I suppose I'll never know who he was, or from whence he came as I did not let him into the barn. I lay down on the straw next to the tiny twin foal who would pass away in the coming hours and Nona lay down beside me. The three of us lay there waiting- we knew not exactly what for but I did not think it was him.

My Imaginary Friends

2010-04-20T09:37:00.000-04:00

Foaling Season at Fields Quarter Horses comes with many changes in habit. Our sleep patterns become erratic as do our feeding patterns- human and horse alike. Day and night blend together based upon the needs at hand. And our staff becomes a little larger and more broadly based.

For several years now, we have included Kathy and Judy in our fold during foaling season. This fine pair of ladies provide a service which is critical to the health and well-being of the horses. They are the primary camera watchers overnight while we sleep. They selflessly volunteer to sacrifice their daylight hours and lives to become beings of the night, creatures of the shadows, and keep the solitary vigil over the mares who are waiting to deliver foals.

Thanks to the evolution of technology and the marvel of the internet, Kathy in Florida and Judy in California have sat up with our mares for several years now- night after night- honing their watching skills and our singular lifeline to the well-being of the mares here. Kathy is a storehouse of knowledge when it comes to the personal habits and behaviors of each mare. She and Judy are the usual voices on the other end of my phone line waking me from a deep sleep with a call to action.

When my cell phone rings tugging me back from whatever dreamscape I am exploring, I answer robotically and Kathy begins informing me in a concise and scientific manner of the situation. In less than a minute of hearing her voice, I am usually dressed and sprinting through the crisp night air into the foaling barn. All the while, she gives me up-to-the minute details as well as information regarding the mares labor that may be useful. By the time I reach the barn, the sleep fog has worn off and I am ready to deliver a foal and make harrowing life and death decisions.

I spoke to Kathy on the phone yesterday morning and she was so sleepy she could barely speak. I noted that we were in a bit of role reversal. Sometimes I wake in the morning and try to decipher if I spoke to her at 3:00am or just dreamed it. I've always been one to talk in my sleep so there's really no telling what conversations I may actually be having with Kathy in the middle of the night. In fact, it would be easy to call her my imaginary friend.

She's disappears in the light of day, no one ever really talks to her except me, and she only comes in the deepest part of my sleep. Or, maybe she's more like a guardian angel- I know that I rest well knowing that Team Chevy has such an experienced night shift on duty!

New Beginnings

2010-04-17T11:21:00.000-04:00

Times like these serve to remind me that life is a series of cycles. I'm sure there is an ancient Chinese teaching somewhere that discusses this but I would rather learn it from a horse. In fact, I think that my best life lessons have come from horses- humility, pride, obedience, joy, sorrow, accomplishment, patience.

The past days have been beyond physically demanding- sporadic sleep, intermittent meals, and phycial challenges that determine life and death. Above the physical, however, they have been emotionally challenging as well. The cycles of emotion have ranged from despair to overwhelming hope. In the course of the past week, I have experienced every emotion within the human range and to the enth degree.

The ups and downs of breeding horses and delivering foals parallel the greatest treasures in nature- from mountain ranges to the deepest canyons, caverns, and beyond. I think that anyone who chooses to own a horse can appreciate the emotional experience which is connected to that process.

So, as I write this, it's a sunny new day. Nona's twin foals are frolicking in green pastures on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, she has stayed behind to become the mother to an orphan foal whose mother passed in Lexington, and most of the mares at the farm are bred to deliver 2011 foals. Noel delivered a wonderfully healthy large beautiful colt yesterday evening. Chevy is looking more and more like the remarkable sire that he is- the boy has grown into a man. And, I am thankful for both the highs and lows which were dealt to our staff. They serve to remind me that I am here for the total human experience. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Double Trouble

2010-04-16T02:50:00.001-04:00

Well there now. It finally happened. I cannot say I wasn't expecting it. In fact, I've had a premonition for months now about the event. It's almost a relief that it has come and gone so now I can move on from the dread. We have foaled a set of twins at Fields Quarter Horses.

The odds are long and even the best bookie would approve as the likelihood of a mare carrying a twin (even just one) to term are a discouraging bet. Mares are not designed to carry, deliver, nor raise multiple offspring at the same time. Their reproductive systems do not approve nor do their foaling attendants.

Yesterday, Nona Bay, a seventeen year old Quarter Horse from Vermont began what would become the most difficult delivery of my career as a mare midwife. Nona has been suspicious since arriving back at the farm several months ago. She was larger in foal than her gestation dictated and her condition was quite poor. Now we know that she was attempting to feed two foals in utero, not just one.

Several weeks ago, she waxed which is a sign of impending labor and delivery. It is the production of colostrum which will nourish and protect the foal once born. The development of colostrum is triggered in the final stages of pregnancy by hormones. When Nona did not go into labor, we began to expect trouble was afoot. Little did we know what was in store for us.

I received the call that Nona was down and had begun foaling I entered the stall and saw that the water had already broken- it was pungent and not the correct color so I watched the mare for one contraction and examined her. At that time, I found an amniotic sac. I thought that was odd since I observed a huge amount of dark colored amniotic fluid already in the stall. I examined the mare to determine the nature of the problem she was experiencing.

I felt a large muscle but could not trace it to anything recognizable. Then, I felt a spine that was very small and counted ribs. I immediately knew that this was a job for hero/superperson/ninja vet Dr. Mather and got her headed to the farm in emergency drive fast mode. Then called Nona's owner Lucy and informed that we may have a breech delivery and that I had a gut feeling there may be more than one foal (because of the size of the mare, the size of the rib cage, and I had been dreaming about twin foals for a week). I then began to attempt to identify body parts. All foals must be delivered with their feet first so it was going to be necessary to find them. Amber and Rachel both took turns so that we could all confer and reach a decision. We then removed the mare from the stall and began trotting her. This is the very best way to keep a mare from pushing and causing more problems when trying to reposition a foal.
Dr. Mather arrived and we moved the mare to a larger stall as we knew that this would be a team effort. She examined Nona and informed me that the muscle was the foal's neck bent completely back around over his hips. There were no legs present. We took turns reaching in and looking for knees. All the while, we also were pushing the neck and thus shoulders back down and deeper into the mare. The vet found the first knee and moved the foot forward out of the mare. The effort to do this is tremendous. She rested and I took a turn for the second knee. (We were now at 35 minutes since the water had broken). I retreived the knee and was able to bring the leg forward. Now we had two front legs but no head. Dr. Mather located an ear and I followed her hand into the mare (it's important when working as a team that everyone communicate position to each person who is helping turn the foal- the seconds can save the foal). I found the foal's ear, then jaw, then mouth but did not have the strength to bring it forward. Rachel had fresh arms so she took a turn and quickly followed my hand to the mouth, hooked her fingers into it and under the jaw, and with a rush of adrenaline, pulled the head forward while Dr. Mather pushed the shoulders back. The colt is only about 40 pounds so it was easy at this time to deliver him from the mare. They held him suspended him upside down still connected to the mare and thick amber fluid drained from his lungs. He was unresponsive.

Rachel and I began to administer emergency CPR, Amber held Nona, Wayne ran support with oxygen, drugs, towels, and supplies, and Dr. Mather delivered a disgusting mound of rotten flesh that she called the placenta. A few curse words were uttered and she called over to where we worked on the now gasping newborn that there was a second foal. She delivered it from the mare. It was a non-viable filly who had likely died a week or so ago when Nona began to drip milk. I left the stall at one point during that part of the delivery and became sick. The rancid smell of the rotten corpse filled the entire barn. It was sickeningly sweet yet pungent.

Photos of the both foals are below. There are areas where flesh is missing from the deceased filly. It sloughed off during the delivery in large chunks. It is likely that although Nona was flushed immediately and checked for large debris, there may be pieces of the dead foal's tissue left behind. She will be watched carefully in the following days.

The survivor is a colt. He was born at 328 days and is a premature foal. His legs are not quite fully developed and his skin/hair/ears are that of a premature foal. The dead filly weighed approx 30 pounds so she was near his size.

As I write this tonight, the colt has just returned from a late night visit to a hyperbaric chamber used mostly on racehorses. It is our last hope to save him. His life thread is stretched thin and he hangs in the balance right now. His owner is debating names for him- I hope he survives till morning to accept a name. The mare stands quietly over him as if she knows that he is not well. She seems depressed and somber and I can't help but wonder if her heart is heavy with either worry or grief.

Growing Up Wendy

2010-04-13T19:24:00.001-04:00

There is a red roan Chevy filly and her name is Wendy. She was born at the farm 2 years ago and was the first roan foal Chevy produced. As if that were not special enough, her mother was my last show horse Please Glow Slow and a remarkable individual herself. From the beginning, Wendy was a unique foal. Her dam, Nikki, could be hard to catch in large pastures but Wendy loved people. When it was time to come to the barn for the evening, Wendy would wait at the gate for us while her mother snorted her disdai, tossed her head, and begged the foal to follow her deep into the woods. Wendy spent hours waiting at the gate for people to come visit and found her favorite time was spent in the barn where she was nearest to us.

Wendy experienced the usual trials and tribulations of any teenage horse. When she heard that she may be sold, she even made an attempt on her life. She belonged at the farm and was determined that she would never leave. In the Summertime, she enjoyed the children who visited for day camp. In the Fall and Winter, she looked forward to treats which the lesson students would bring her. In this manner, days and months passed and Wendy grew up.

Recently, Gary and Amber decided that it was time for her to begin school. She attended lessons most days in "How to be an obedient horse" and "You are grown up, now let's find you a job". She was a great student and soon matriculated to a higher stage of learning called "Now that you are 2 years old, you can carry a rider". And today, Wendy graduated from that class as well. She had her first independent ride with Amber. She walked, turned, bent her head softly to the bit, stopped on cue, and looked quite grown up doing these things.

For those of you who have met Wendy, you understand her sweet unassuming nature and will rejoice with me that she is one step closer to filling her mother's shoes as my next show horse. A surge of happiness fills me as I realize that the tiny little furry bundle of horse who was born in my arms two short years ago is now grown up. Wendy is embarking on the next step of her future as she becomes a show horse and learns the intricate language spoken between horse and rider. I'm just pleased- given her propensity for accidents- that she grew up!

A Dingo Stole My Baby!

2010-04-12T20:03:00.002-04:00

Ella Riva dropped her head into the grain bucket and began to greedily gobble the contents of the bucket before her. Just as she filled her mouth with the fourth large bite, she remembered that she had forgotten something. She chewed noisily and ground the grain back and forth. It made a gnashing sound as her large oval teeth pulverized the pellets.

Suddenly without warning, the heady feeling of eating the rich grain cleared and she jerked her head upwards. Ella was a dark bay mare- tall for a Quarter Horse with the look and physique of a sleeker animal. She came from a mixed heritage, part Quarter Horse and part Thoroughbred. With her head high in an alerted pose, the image slammed into her brain chasing away the warmth and comfort of dinner. Her foal was gone.

She had given birth to Quincy several months before. She was an experienced mother by now and quickly settled into the familiar routine of motherhood. Long days in the sun eating rich grass meant that she would produce thick heavy milk for her chestnut son. She tended to him absently, watching over his playful antics with the other foals in the large paddock. He was independent and social and often visited the corners, the wooded area, and explored his new world.

She could not quite remember the details but recalled that she obediently walked out of their stall in the afternoon and stepped onto the black horse trailer tethered to the red farm truck. The door at the rear of the trailer closed and she missed the familiar lean of Quincy at her flank. He was not at her side. She whinnied but only thought she heard his faint cries as the truck crunched the gravel beneath its tires leaving the driveway.

In just a few minutes, the assemblage stopped at the other farm. She was familiar with this place. She walked beside her handler but craned her head and neck high hoping to spot the place she had left her foal. As the afternoon wore into evening, Ella became frantic. The foal was no where in sight and her udder was becoming uncomfortable. She wanted him to nurse. She tried to remember his chestnut face but it was already fading.

She spent the next day walking the paddock with the other mares. Ella nibbled at the green grass and noticed the bright sun. She asked each mare if they had seen her foal but none responded. They were too interested in gobbling mouthfuls to make idle conversation. She walked 20 miles or more from one end of the paddock to the next but soon found that she was forgetting what she was looking for. And then the humans brought her into the barn for dinner.

As she stopped eating and remembered her foal and the events of the last day, Ella felt a faint stirring within her womb. A soft look filled her eye and she dropped her head back to grab another mouthful of grain. She forgot the she was worried about something. She felt like a mother again as the tiny horse inside her kicked and stretched its legs. And Ella finished her dinner.

Sacrifice

2010-04-11T11:34:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I learned about sacrifice. Each of us has our own idea about what it means to sacrifice for another.
I ponder this and wonder if life could even be measured from one small sacrifice to another- we are all interwoven and our ability to give something for the best interest or desire of another is a profound part of living together on this planet.

But, yesterday I was witness to a sacrifice that will leave a groove on my soul. A mark that when time ends, and my character is judged, will be a notch by which I feel I may be measured. A mare sacrificed her life at our farm so that her unborn foal may have a chance at his. I didn't know the mare as she belonged to a neighbor but that is neither here nor there. Compassion and humanity dictated that I played a small role in the end part of her life. I was a supporting character in the unscripted drama that unfolded, not in a position to make decisions, only to support and assist the leading players.

Our neighbor Mr. Cook had a mare who was bred to Chevy. Here name was Sara. She had gone into labor (at their farm) around 7:00am yesterday morning. At 9:00am, Mr. Cook stopped over at our place and asked me to take a look at the mare as she was distressed and he could not determine the reason she had not foaled yet.

Team Fields leapt into action and we crossed the street to his farm to examine the mare. I immediately determined that the foal was upside down and covered in a red bag placenta. We teleconferenced with Dr. Mather and she advised that we trot the mare to attempt to help position the foal. Since her amniotic sac was not broken- it became a game of wait and see for us.

The Cooks suggested that we bring her to our farm (they trotted her down the street to our foaling barn) so that we were better equipped with drugs, oxygen, etc. The mare was moved to our place around 10:00am. She trotted dutifully behind their Kawasaki Mule down the street. Her hoofbeats could be heard on the pavement as she neared the foaling barn.

We monitored her progress and trotted her off and on for the next few hours. Her water had still not broken. Around 2:00pm, the mare was beginning to falter and the foal (inside the unbroken sac and placenta) was showing signs of becoming lethargic.

We spoke with Dr. Mather (for the umpteenth time) and the owner decided that it was time to take drastic action. Dr. Mather suggested we go ahead and break the sac and bring the foal out of the mare. There were 9 able bodied experienced horsepeople standing by for the event with Amber and I assuming lead on turning the foal and lots of fresh pullers to get him out. The stopwatch was set and we began. Unknowingly we stepped into the downward spiral that had been set into motion for Sara months ago.

The foal was upside down and both front legs were back. We could not break the sac (too thick) so we used scissors to break the placenta away and again to break the amniotic sac. Then, we were able to retreive the front legs and tried to turn the foal to a better presentation. With front legs through the canal and the nose at the opening of the pelvis- we tried to pull the foal out of the mare. The precision and communication was constant as we tried to remove the foal from the mare. He wiggled and kicked his front feet. He pushed his head from inside her but could get no farther forward than the opening of her pelvic bone. So close to freedom but yet a prisoner in what was fast becoming a watery tomb. Sheer exhaustion and frustration began to set upon us after 30 minutes of pulling, pleading, cajolling, praying, and turning. Dr. Mather arrived and quickly assessed that it was necessary to choose between saving the mare or foal. She did not feel that it was possible to save both and the owners did not feel that hospital care was an option for them.

A pall settled over everyone assembled as we faced the gravity of mortality. Our team does not accept failure nor defeat well. The reactions ranged from disbelief to tears to robotic as we prepared for the next few minutes.No one was really ready to stare down reality and the raw cruelty that Nature can sometimes thrust upon us.

The decision was made to save the foal and an emergency C-section was performed in the grassy entrance to the foaling barn. It seemed distant and vague as the sunshine surrounded us and the birds of Spring chirped happily. The mare was sacrificed for the life of her colt. He was unresponsive upon delivery from her abdomen and after approx 7-8 minutes of emergency CPR, he took his first breath. I know Sara walked across the bridge to another place yesterday, she looked back and told Will to stay with us a while. As she took her last breath, he took his first.

He was named Will. He was given the life-giving colostrum milked from his mother- her final legacy to his life. He spent his first night in a stall alone with humans offering nourishment and company. As my daughter Brittney trekked into his stall for nightly feedings, I overhead him nicker to her in recognition- even orphan foals seem to want a mother.

His owners opted to teach him to drink from a bucket (bucket baby) and he has learned to do so quickly. We will be passing a tube into his stomach at each feeding to make sure he gets the most nutrients possible.

Please join us in praying that this little bay colt survives. He sure proved that he had a strong desire to live and has beaten the odds before he ever took his first breath. And no one would wish to believe that his mother's final sacrifice would have been in vain. He survived because of the decision to let her go. She took a long last breath and closed her eyes in the sunny spot. He nickered and tried to crawl toward where her body lie but was surrounded by his caretakers.

As a quick side note, the delivery was tragic, gruesome, heroic, horrific, and life-changing for each of us. I am now surely convinced that we have a superhero for our farm vet- she went so far above and beyond her responsibility today to save this life it was miraculous. She was as determined as the rest of us that there would be a survivor from this tragedy.

I expect Will to return home in a little while. After all, he's just our neighbor and we can visit him often. Prayres for his safe-keeping in their hands. We spent a long night's vigil helping him to become adjusted to the harshness of life. I know that he was worth her sacrifice and believe that somehow, Sara would not have wanted anything else yesterday.

Top Ten List of...

2010-04-06T20:09:00.000-04:00

Things that went wrong today!

10. I overslept.
9. Sheri had to clean the foaling barn stalls alone.
8. Tiara (who foaled in the wee hours of Sunday morning) wasn't feeling well.
7. Brittney was sad.
6. Someone broke a gate post which was set into concrete.
5. A mare did not foal during daylight hours.
4. The Malamute I shaved tried to bite me.
3. Gary went to pick up a horse for a customer and the horse was lost.
2. The front wheel fell off of the Gator during stall cleaning.
and the #1 thing that went wrong today was...
Wayne was sick and threw up all day long.

Burnin' Down The House

2010-04-05T19:01:00.000-04:00

And I almost burned my house down today. No kidding. Not just a little smoke-alarm-going-off, singed-something, smoke-signal type blaze, I'm talking a sirens-a-blaring, three-engine-screaming, fire-ball style event.

For the sake of the story, I'll rewind a couple of hours. The day started in the usual manner. Alarm. Breakfast. Feeding and Stalls. I groomed a Brittney Spaniel and worked in the office until lunch time. Actually until this point in the day, the day had taken on an easy tone. There was plenty of work to do but the tasks were getting checked off the list.

We had been forecasted for thundershowers today but in an unexpected turn of events, they bypassed us and the afternoon turned off sunny and warm. I looked over my mental checklists of jobs and the most appealing ones were those which should be performed out of doors. Mowing the grass. Spraying the yard and fences for weeds. Cleaning the flower beds and gardens of winter debris to prepare for Spring.

I chose to begin spraying for weeds surmising that it would take a week or better for the remedy to take effect. As I sprayed, I became distracted by the oak leaves and dead vines woven into the flower beds around my house. I remembered that Wayne had burned these last year and the clean up seemed effortless. I found a lighter near my gas grill and began to set various small fires around my deck in the flower beds.

I smiled to myself as I watch last year's growth disappear and the new tendrils of green from this year were left behind. This was working marvelously. I was simultaneously applauding my firestarter skills as I lit yet another area of dried debris against the red brick of my house.

Just as I clicked the ignition on the lighter and saw the flame lap greedily at the leaf in front of my hand, my eyes trailed upward and I saw the trellises- both of them. I stood up and surveyed the flame as it creeped upward not yet realizing the gravity of what was about to happen. As the flame reached the base of the first white trellis, it shot upward and engulfed the entire side of the brick wall. Quickly, the flame jumped to the second trellis and gobbled it up as well. The plastic trellises burned bright and hot and melted quickly into piles of gouey carcinogens. I ran into the house through the back door and grabbed a pitcher and began filling it. I envisioned what I may find when I returned but my vision was off the mark. By the time I had reached the original sight of the plastic fireball, there was nothing but a black charred ring on the ground and creeping up the brick wall.

I tossed the contents of my water pitcher absently on the charred ground and side of the house. It just seemed unfinished if I didn't. I noticed the melted outdoor plastic cover for my dryer vent and made a mental note to add purchasing a new one to my checklist. As I cut down the wires which held the now unrecognizable trellis I began to formulate a plan. There was a 1 in 4,000 chance that my husband would miss the trellises for a day or two. There was not even a glimmer of hope that he would not notice the large black ashy mark on the entire side of the house.

The Easter Bunny Killer

2010-04-04T20:18:00.000-04:00

Easter morning peeked over the horizon onto a sleeping world. The dawn promised a gloriously shiny day for egg hunting, Easter dress wearing, and rejoicing. The large dog padded quietly from his station at the end of his master's bed. Stepping into the hallway, he tuned his keen senses toward the closed bedroom door to his left and located the familiar slumber sounds of his girl Kalen. Quickly determining that all was well with his people, he moved silently down the stairway to the lower level of the house.

More of habit than necessity, he patrolled the first floor- first the family room, then the dining room, and veered into the kitchen. He paused briefly to lap a drink of water from the ceramic bowl sitting on the floor. Next, he moved down the long line of kitchen cabinets and into the laundry room. A fleeting memory of sleeping there when he was a pup played across his mind as he ducked his large frame to exit the well-used doggie door.

Squeak. squeak. The flap of the pet door sang softly as he stepped out into the early morning light. Although it was nearly 100 feet from the doorway where he stood to the brushy undercover at the edge of the woods, everything in the grove ceased to breathe as the mountain of canine inhaled the brisk morning air. They had been alerted by the faint swinging of the flap but it was not enough warning to plan an escape into the deep cover of the thickets.

The dog was keen. He instantly categorized the scents which filtered across the delicate membranes of his nose. He noticed who had passed through his yard last night as well as who may still be within range now. As he filed the information into his large mental storehouse of memories and scents, his black eyes scanned the perimeter.

He exhaled and stepped down three steps until all four feet were standing on the grassy earth. The small ones in the underbrush did not breathe even yet. They knew that his wide smiling mouth contained white jaws which could crush their bones in a single bite. They knew that he was fast, strong, and lethal. He had hunted their kind for many generations. It was the Order and the Way of Nature.

He noted the small ones in the bushes across the yard. He knew the smell of rabbit anywhere. For as long as he could remember, he had enjoyed the exhilaration of chasing them. He particularly enjoyed the primal feelings that surged through him at the end of a hunt. Rage filled him up as he realized that the rabbits had dared to nibble the clover in his master's lawn during the night. Had he not warned them? Had he not proven that this was no place they belonged? Anger rippled across his spine and his hackles raised. A low guttural growl rumbled in his throat.

The rabbits knew from the instinct inherited from their ancestors that the husky was displeased. They knew- each of them- that the time to hide was nearing an end. As if an unheard signal sounded an end to the charade, the rabbits panicked and simultaneously dashed toward the thicket.

Instinct took over and the large dog felt his muscles ripple with power. Then, just before he leaped after the mass exodus of prey, he was tugged by an invisible string. It closed around his heart and tightened like a noose. Rather than race after the rabbits, he sat down on the lawn. The invisible string tugged again and he looked toward the direction it emanated from. As he glanced upward, back toward the house from whence he had come, he noticed the curtain on the upstairs bedroom had been moved aside. There, looking down upon him, was the small round face of Kalen.

She smiled a wide grin and called down from her post, "Oh, you found an Easter Bunny! Good Dog!"

He felt the noose tighten slightly more and obeyed its command. His heart belonged to the girl. He would spare the bunnies today.

Whips, Guns,and Chairs

2010-03-31T22:25:00.000-04:00

To protect the innocent, the names and places in the following story have been changed.

There's a new mare in the foaling barn. She is rather bold and quite pushy. She pins her ears flat against her head when she is looked at or spoken to. And she kicks at humans, dogs, or imaginary friends at least twice every day.

Today, our famous cowboy friend Gary suggested that we needed better tools to handle the mare. He declared that in his experience, it was appropriate to carry whips, guns and a chair. Now, I'm an imaginative person. I don't need a lot to stimulate mental pictures or scenarios. The image of Gary- dressed like Indiana Jones- entering the lair of a mad mare with a leather bullwhip in his back pocket, guns in holsters on his hips, and a wooden chair held up as if to fend off the most ferocious beast certainly caused a chuckle. Of course, he was using witty sarcasm to entertain my misery with this horse from Hades. It worked.

So, tomorrow as I enter the new mare's stall, I will be sure to lift my chair with both hands in front of me. Using my best lion tamer's voice, I will command that she not bite, kick, or harass. I'll have to get back with you on how that works out for me.

Scary Things

2010-03-30T22:04:00.000-04:00

I am not a person who is plagued greatly by phobias. I'm not really afraid of spiders, snakes, bugs, or needles. I'm not afraid of the dark nor am I concerned with heights or any animal with fur. I am unphased by driving over bridges or flying on airplanes.

However, there are a handful of things which do cause me to cringe. Pigs. The Burger King. Clowns. Dentists. These are the nemeses which strike fear in my heart. Tonight, I encountered a new foe. Tara and I attended a Summer Learning Fair hosted by a large local school system to represent the farm and our riding programs. While Gary and Amber stayed back to train horses and teach riding lessons, Tara and I bravely tackled a gymnasium full of families searching for Summer enrichment activities.

Equipped with clean white shirts, brochures, and a couple of saddles to decorate our expo booth, we greeted, meeted, and chatted with one after the next interested mom. The event planners thoughtfully created diversions intended to entertain the tykes and babysit while their parents filled their already busy schedules.

I looked across the room at the crowd of children playing ball and games and noticed a 7 foot tall Chik-Fil-A mascot. For those of you who are not familiar with this fast-food chain mascot- it's a cow. Now, this 7 foot tall black and white marvel decided that it should leave its charge of children and come to our booth. Why, I will never know.

As the bovine walked with purpose toward me, I looked left and right for an escape. I made a mental note that I must be a flight (versus fight) animal. The large spotted mascot stopped right in front of our booth and seemed to stare down at me with its huge plastic eyeballs. I choked on my words as the confused parent in front of me turned to follow my frozen stare. I felt my body disobey my command to stand my ground and it shrunk backwards.

Just as I began to stammer an apology to the confused mother, the small child in her arms began to shriek. The 40 decibel scream pierced every eardrum within firing range and the mother quickly began to console the child- "Honey, It's ok. That's just a person inside there. I'm sorry, she's afraid of characters."

The cow retreated and I felt my pulse slow ever so slightly. As he moved back to the center of the gym, I breathed for the first time since he began his attack. I exhaled slowly and handed the nice lady a brochure. I couldn't help but think that her 2 year old and I may have exhanged knowing glances.

Er..um...Peeple Of The Wurld

2010-03-29T22:36:00.000-04:00

May I have your attention, pleez? This is Ringo the Raccoon. I am the Master and Commander of all creatures who bear fur, fleece, or feathers at Feelds Quarter Horses. My mother has become distracted by mars who are supposed to be foaling so I have seezed this opportunity to speek to you.

Pleez heed my warning. There is a conspiracy afoot and I need your help to get to the bottom of it. You may have herd that the goat met her demise a few weeks ago. I have been investigating this matter and beleev that the evidence suggest that she did not die of natural causes.

If you have information which may be helpful in solving this murder case, you may contact me. All information will remain confidin, confeden, confadin- secret. Pleez call this hotline to report information about this case. 1-800-COO-NCOP.

Hay Days

2010-03-28T10:11:00.000-04:00

It's been an interesting weekend thus far. We have spent it in the usual manner- horses, dogs, customers, and hay. Our friend Debbie is still visiting from New Jersey. Several people have asked if it makes me weary to have a house guest for so long. They obviously do not fathom what our days are like for the extra set of hands are welcome. Anyone who tarries too long or stands still in my vicinity is dispatched an order.

Debbie dozes on the couch early in the evening and can barely keep her eyes open at dinner. She is sore in places that she had forgotten had muscles. She smells like the barn or at the very least a stinky horse 90% of the time. And she expectantly awaits the imminent foaling of a mare. I would say that she has adapted to our lifestyle quite well.

She tabulated the calories she ate yesterday and was mortified. But somehow has lost weight while visiting. She has become a frequent abuser of caffeine and lives from one sugar fix to another. Again, she has become one of us.

So, as the morning dawned today with a yearling on the wrong side of a fence line with no gate, rain pelting down upon the rooftops of the barns, stalls waiting to be cleaned yet again, and a bevy of horses clamoring for breakfast- I dare say that these are the days of our lives. Our company leaves soon only to be replaced by our son Josh's family from Arkansas/US Air Force. One visitor leads to the next- one foaling leads to more- one trailer comes another trailer leaves- and breeding/foaling season marches on.

The Contrary Mare

2010-03-27T18:50:00.000-04:00

There was a contrary mare who lived at Fields Quarter Horses. When she woke up in the morning, she was usually grumpy. In the wintertime, when it was quite cold and snowy, she grumbled because she stayed inside her warm stall. In the springtime, when the daffodils were beginning to bloom, she did not like it when the people took her outside after breakfast. She would have preferred to linger inside the barn for a bit longer over her morning hay.

Now, it came to pass that this mare conceived a foal. She did not remember the details- only that several months ago it began to move inside her body. The foal would turn inside her and kicked with joy when the people brushed the contrary mare. She pinned her expressive ears back flat against her skull to show her displeasure when the foal stretched its long unborn legs. Sometimes, he became excited and moved while she munched on her grassy hay. This, too, was not pleasing to the mare.

As winter faded and the earth began to green, the foal grew larger inside her womb. Although a higher design dictated that her body should accommodate the growing horse, she found herself uncomfortable much of the time. She vaguely remembered that she used to lie in the green grass and let the sunshine bake her golden body. Now, because her heft made it difficult to lie down, she mostly just dozed on her feet.

The contrary mare found herself waiting. She did not reckon the reason. She shifted her weight from one hind leg to the other at least 380 times each day. She nibbled hay but often felt overfull. She was hungry most all of the time and greedily gobbled her grain threatening anyone who dared approach. She endured twice daily probes of her udder and tail only because they were accompanied by grooming sessions which she still sort of liked.

And thus was the state of the contrary mare. She was in fine company as there were a few other contrary mares who shared her misery. It was as if her whole existence (and comfort) hinged on some unforeseen event. Little did she know.

Top Ten List....

2010-03-26T21:15:00.000-04:00

of reasons that another mare needs to foal ASAP!

10. I can't stand the suspense
9. I don't like to wake up at night unless there's a foal coming
8. Chevy can't breed a pregnant mare
7. I want to go farther than 5 minutes away for dinner
6. I need a vacation
5. Kathy and Judy are getting bored watching them do nothing at night
4. It's Spring and there are lush paddocks waiting for them
3. At least on of them is ready to pop
2. Stalls, stalls, stalls
and
the #1 reason another mare needs to foal is....The next 4 foals born will be Chevy's!

Feel free to join us at and stare at the mares at the farm.
http://www.marestare.com/fcam.php?alias=fieldsqh

Long Days

2010-03-24T21:34:00.001-04:00

It's days like today that can make a person become weary. Today really began for me yesterday. One prayer was answered when KC foaled. The mares who are waiting to foal at our farm were beginning to resemble a log jam or a crowded airport runway. Now that KC has foaled, I was able to move another jumbo jet into the line-up to await her take-off. Unfortunately, with an answered prayer, came the additional burden of working with no sleep.

KC is a maiden mare and her foal needed assistance to nurse until nearly dawn. Newborn foals are fragile and teeter a fine line in the first few hours of life. They are born equipped with the ability to stand and run within about a half an hour but if they do not receive life-giving colostrum frequently, they can deteriorate quickly. So, in the best interest of KC's little bundle of sunshine, I patiently milked her, fed the foal, and coaxed him to try to feed on his own periodically throughout the night.

The morning dawned and the real day began. Before lunch, the stalls at the foaling barn were cleaned and a customer dog was groomed. After lunch, I began the normal Wednesday job of cleaning the arena stalls. Afterwards, I had about an hour to kill before Dr. Mather came to visit the new foal and complete his well-baby checkup. I opted to begin cleaning the cobwebs from the barn trusses with my handy-dandy new telescoping pole with a broom attachment.

Dr. Mather made her visit and the foal received the care he required. There is a concern that he was slightly dehydrated- most probably from his confusion involving nursing. Therefore, there will be the added chore tonight of making a few wee hour visits to his stall to ensure that he is observed nursing appropriately.

After the veterinarian's visit, it was time for Farrier Mike to begin his usual Wednesday task of tending to the hooves of some of the farm residents. In an effort which would have impressed even Henry Ford himself, we assembled the horses for their hoof trimmings.

Then, the foaling barn mares were nestled into their stalls, milk tests were done, and those horses were fed. I hopped onto the back porch and quickly apologized to Wayne and his father Les. They had been waiting for nearly an hour for me to come so that we could have a brief 84th Birthday celebration (for Les not Wayne). Then following the quick Birthday dinner, it was time to check mares again, help the KC's foal nurse again, and tend to a couple more Canine Companion customers.

So, that equals a long day. Tomorrow, hopefully, will be a little slower and a little easier. It's not the work I mind- after all, I like to stay busy. Rest for me is usually just finding a different job to do. But I have the feeling there are going to be a number of long days just like this one in the near future.

Lil Bo Peep

2010-03-22T21:43:00.000-04:00

There's a new trio of mouths to feed at Fields Quarter Horses. Their names are Lil, Bo, and Peep and they are newborn Shetland Sheepdogs. True to their heritage which heralds from the Shetland Isles off the shores of Scotland, they are sturdy little Shepherd dogs with thick double coats to fend off even the dampest weather and keen minds to defend their fleecy charges.

The tiny trio are sable in color with white collars and white blazes. They are hungry, snuggly, and squeak quite often. Their mother Heidi is the beloved companion of Wayne- master of most everything at Fields Quarter Horses- and she is torn between her daily post at Wayne's side and her maternal duties to her brood. Her whelping box is nestled in a corner beside the french doors inside our house where she can keep a watchful eye on the comings and goings from the foaling barn and office. She is also keeping a close watch on Wayne to make sure that some other hound does not usurp her rightful place at his side.

Tonight, as Wayne sat on the floor and inspected Lil, Bo, and Peep for at least the 5th time today Heidi lay with her head on his lap. She seemed to look at his face for approval as he held each tiny canine in his hand. He stroked their heads one by one and made sure that they were indeed as perfect as their mother. Assured that they are, he placed them carefully back into the protective warmth of their whelping box. Heidi let out a long sigh, licked Wayne's hand almost more for herself than him and dutifully curled up next to her grunting puppies. As they began to nurse greedily, he patted her on the head again. He will be keeping a daughter from this litter- it seems that our menagerie may have just grown a little larger.

Sad Day For America

2010-03-21T23:32:00.000-04:00

I really try very hard to refrain from posting anything in my blog which reflects my political views or which would offend the menagerie which lives at Fields Quarter Horses. Tonight, however, I am overcome with the desire to express my displeasure with the passing of the Health Care Reform Bill in Washington.

I gathered the critters round and explained to them that there would be changes in the future and that these changes were going to be painful at times. George the Llama seemed unconcerned about the gravity of the situation. I suppose that this is likely because he is (in fact) an illegal immigrant. He lives here and fills a position that a donkey may do as guardian to our herds. He, however, does the same work for less pay and talks regularly of bringing the rest of his family to live here.

Ace is concerned about the availability of prescription drugs for his perpetual ear infections. The mare population is generally concerned about the quality of care that they will receive and how Dr. Mather will weather the sweeping medical reform.

Ringo immediately seized the computer and googled "What is Health Care Reform and How Does It Affect Me?". He is currently identifying if he is lower, middle, or upper class and whether he will be penalized for not providing health care for the cats who are in his employ.

So, as the night comes to a close- our animals will be tossing sleeplessly wondering what tomorrow will bring. They are discussing their individual party affiliations. There is talk among the mice about a peaceful demonstration in the form of a sit-in. For Wayne's sake, I hope they choose not to assemble en masse. I have a feeling that by morning, there will be more than one Grand Old Pet at Fields Quarter Horses.

First Day of Spring!

2010-03-20T20:36:00.000-04:00

There were lots of things going on today at Fields Quarter Horses- both farms! We had visitors, visitors, and a few more visitors. Here's a brief accounting of the highlights:

Amber taught a few riding lessons to some of her favorite students on some of her less-than-favorite lesson mares. Everyone learned something new, the students had a great time, and there was no bloodshed. That always counts as a good day. Amber's beau Dean flew in from Boston last night for another weekend visit. His wings are getting stronger as he makes more frequent trips to Kentucky. It's always good to see Dean's brilliantly white smile- and strong back. He and I have developed a tradition in the short year I've known him of servicing the interlocking stall mats when he comes. Oh, and Amber smiles more when he is around (which is also a nice side effect of his visits). Later this afternoon, Amber's parents Dan and Dolores made the two hour drive to Kentucky to see Dean's brilliantly white smile. I suppose they also enjoy Amber's as well.

We welcomed another guest to the farm this week who is a member and fan of Team Chevy. Debbie from New Jersey is spending her hard-earned vacation not on a cruise, not on a beach somewhere, and not on a ski slope in Colorado. Rather, she asked if she could come to Kentucky and foal mares during our peak season this year. We, of course, obliged but I can't help but wonder if it will be as glamorous as she hopes. I dare hope that she won't be disappointed in our rather mundane life.

The afternoon was punctuated by visits from Tiara's family from Ohio to check up on their little red mare. This is the first foal for the Cooney family and they were beaming with excitement. It's contagious and I found myself hoping that Tiara will deliver soon just for them. MaryAnn who owns ZigZag, Snapshot, Showgirl, Showdown, Noel and a number of other occasional residents at our farm also peeked in just in time to see her 2 year old horse being ridden by Amber. Jason stopped by to visit the wild turkeys and I and we discussed a new fencing project, the weather, the varmint population, and other worldy issues.

Chevy assumed his post in the first stall inside the door with his usual pomp and circumstance. In the manner of the best Walmart door greeter, he nickers to every visitor who graces our threshold and few people get by without stopping to say hello to the King of the World or at least Everything Important.

And that is how the first day of Spring wrapped up at our place? Hope yours was sunny, bright, and filled with friends, too!

Khris

Waste Management in the Home Office

2010-03-19T21:10:00.000-04:00

March at the farm has been gloriously warm and sunny. I find myself just stopping outside in the sunshine and lifting my face upward to bask. It feels foreign and familiar all at the same time. I think I may have had the best job at the farm today. I spent the entire afternoon in the large mare/foal paddocks dragging and seeding them.

From my post on the Gator, driving laps and dragging the pastures, I watched mares lazily eating new Spring grass and foals napping the deep slumber of newborns. The yearlings romped and ran for hours- Maxim seemed to challenge each of his pasture mates to foot races and wrestling matches. It seems that adolescent boys are the same in any species.

I pulled the heavy drag behind my machine and slowly scribbled a pattern of lines across each paddock. I weighted the metal frame with cinder blocks and a heavy log that just spans its width. The extra weight makes sure that the teeth score the earth to prepare it to accept the new seeds and it breaks up and spreads the left over manure from the paddock's former occupants. By breaking the manure into smithereens, any parasites living within it are exposed to sunlight (and heat and weather) and their lifespans are greatly shortened.

Part of our pasture management practice at Fields Quarter Horses is to keep our paddocks rotated, rested, dragged, and reseeded. Many people question me because we do not spread the manure and waste removed from our stalls onto our pastures. This practice was commonplace at stables and barns everywhere for many years. We have always opted to remove the farm's waste from the property or spread it onto green areas of the farm which are not used to house horses. This ensures that there are no new parasites or pathogens introduced into our soil.

After I finished dragging the paddocks, I filled the hand seeder with the special (insert the word expensive here) horse pasture seed mix. Then, with my best organ-grinder-monkey interpretation, I began cranking the handle as I walked. The little wheel began to spin and the seed dispersed into a circular pattern around me. Systematically, I walked each paddock spreading seed over the already greening ground. The newly seeded paddocks will be allowed to lie at rest for 30-45 days and then they will be reopened to greedy mares with tiny foals who will lie in the lush green grass.

As I walked the paddocks today, I was simply thankful. Perhaps Spring is Mother Nature's way of rewarding us for making it through Winter. Everywhere around me, everything seems pregnant with life. The mares, the grass, even the underground spring which gurgles beneath the paddocks- all are awakening from Winter with a vengeance. I for one, was happy to work from my home office today.

Guest Blog

2010-03-16T20:20:00.001-04:00

Hello everyone! My name is Annelise Sophiea and I am a Horse Management student, graduating this year, at Michigan State University. I had the honor of becoming part of team Chevy for a week at Fields Quarter Horses in Walton, Kentucky during my spring break.

The week I spent at Fields Quarter Horses is one that I will never forget. All the learning that took place during the week can never be replaced. My adventure started as I left my house in Dewitt Michigan and started my 333‐mile drive down to Kentucky. When I arrived at Fields Quarter Horses I was greeted by a smiling face and cheery attitude. Khris and Wayne Fields were gracious enough to invited me into their home and allow me to participate with some activities that occur on a breeding farm.

The very first full day I was there a mare foaled prematurely which was very sad and devastating but it was a terrific learning experience, I am also happy to announce that as of right now the mare and foal are both doing well and healing nicely. During my stay I got to ask many questions to one of AQHA’s most significant assets, Gary Trubee. He was a fountain of knowledge and you could see how much horses were his passion. He was willing to teach as well as to learn. I learned so much from him during the week as well as many new phrases that will stick with me for the rest of my life. He has never stopped learning, which should be an example to all of us.

Throughout the week I was able to help out at the farm cleaning stalls and letting horses out as well as some more experience handling mares and foals. I was so thankful to be able to ride along with Wayne and Gary to Rood and Riddle to watch OHK Krymsun Zip be collected for breeding. It was something that I had never witnessed before. It was such an amazing experience, which made me realize how amazing these stallions really are.

Throughout the week there was a mare that we were keeping an eye on because for about 48 hours she had been waxing and dripping milk and she had not foaled yet. I had to leave on a Saturday morning and it was Friday afternoon with no baby yet. I wanted so bad to actually see a mare foal and how they help the mare if needed. Well Friday night came along, I said a little prayer that I could see a mare foal before I left and sure enough, she began to foal! It was all very quick and the gift of life it something to never take for granted. What a wonderful thing to be a part of.

As I left Kentucky it was very bittersweet because I really missed my husband and my family and I also had a lot of excitement waiting for me at home due to my graduation but I had made new friends though out the week and I hated to leave something that everyday I learned something new. Thank you Fields Quarter Horses for making my experience so enjoyable and allowing me to become part of Team Chevy for the week. The week I will never forget. Photo Caption: This is the foal born on Annie's first day at the farm. This foal was premature and she and the mare were in serious condition for the week. What a happy ending!

Rainy Days

2010-03-15T16:59:00.000-04:00

Today is a cold, rainy, depressing day. It's one of those days that tests mettle, grit, and just seems to take effort to grind through it. The tasks are usual- tease, breed, ultrasound, ride, feed, muck. The weariness that accompany them are unusual.

Maybe it's because I had a spot of bad news today. Maybe it's because I've got some busted plumbing and my son and his family are 10 hours away. Maybe I just latched onto reasons to feel melancholy. Regardless, today has been punctuated by gray.

March Madness

2010-03-14T13:46:00.000-04:00

There's a touch of March Madness going around. Like flu and cold season, you can rest assured that March Madness hits Kentucky about the same time each year. For people who have moved into the area (like Amber and Gary), there seems to be a good deal of immunity for the disease. However, it seems the longer one lives in the Bluegrass State, the more susceptible that he/she is to it.

It is characterized by the desire to purchase blue clothing and name one's pets or children after Kentucky Basketball players. March Madness seems to transcend gender and age- it affects men, women, boys, girls, and other all the same. Those who have the most severe symptoms of the disease can name not only the starting line-up players for the University of Kentucky, but also their heights, weights, and tell you where each went to high school before becoming a Kentucky Wildcat.

So, as the SEC Tournament Final game unwinds today with the inevitable outcome of the University of Kentucky being victorious, in Kentucky, we will watch the Selection Show tonight to hear that our Wildcats are a #1 seed into this year's NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament. And how does this affect Fields Quarter Horses and the farm, you ask?

That's easy- Chevy is a huge UK fan. His personal favorite player, John Wall, reminds him of himself. They are both athletic, humble, and achieve the impossible with their crazy mad athletic skills.

Revolving Doors

2010-03-12T21:42:00.000-05:00

Our house seems to have become a revolving door of late. Wayne announced to our son Josh on the telephone earlier that he had to put up with 7 women in his house tonight. It struck me that he is a real saint to endure the torture of girl talk, and chick flicks, and ya-ya moments tonight. (Even if he still is throwing a fit about cutting down his forest.)

Annelise has spent a great week earning additional Intern hours for her Horse Management degree from Michigan State University. She assures me that she enjoyed her stay and has experienced life on a horse breeding farm to its fullest. She will return to her husband Thomas and 3 dogs tomorrow.

Brittney arrived home this evening with 2 college roommates in tow. Katie and Cortney seem like nice girls who share Brittney's interest in their laptops. Brittney's Spring Break began today and we look forward to having her helping hands and smiling face home for a week.

Add Rachel who lives in the Mom/Pop apartment and Amber who lives in the efficiency apartment and I would say we have a Full House tonight. In addition, the upcoming weeks will bring more visitors. March is certainly going to be like a revolving door at Fields Quarter Horses.

Truths and Trubeeisms

2010-03-11T23:17:00.001-05:00

There are certain people in life that you just know have worn out more than their fair share of shoes. They have walked more miles, ridden more horses, and shaken off more dust than the average Joe. Gary Trubee is one such cowboy. Five minutes spent with this lifelong horseman and there is no doubt that he is authentic.

Imagine a pair of cowboy boots which have reached the perfect broken-in but not yet broken-down stage- that's Gary. I quickly discovered that he comes with a language all of his own. Each day, he reminds me that life can be condensed to simple steps. Things such as learn to Stop, Start, and Steer- that applies not only to training horses but also navigating life. And that I only have to be smarter than what I'm playing with. And that fast nickels are better than slow dimes. Besides being truths, these nuggets of wisdom are commonly known as Trubeeisms.

I have come to know that Trubeeisms are profound kernels of knowledge. They all come wrapped in plain brown cowboy paper and tied up with a little bit of good-ole-boy string. I imagine the lifetime of experience that it took to assemble such good advice. I'm sure that it could fill many pages and there are plenty of details best forgotten.

The thing about Trubeeisms- they seem to be able to creep into any conversation and cover any subject. At times, they are delivered with a tale but can be served ala carte as well. There's always a story to enhance a teaching moment. There also seems to be no shortage of new vernacular to describe how things looks, feel, or behave. And there appears to be a Trubeeism for just about every situation.

Tree Top Lover

2010-03-10T21:15:00.000-05:00

Well, we've had an extremely productive week so far at the farm. For that matter, we've had an extremely productive year thus far. I'm excited about so many things for 2010. I noticed this afternoon as we buzzed around the barn like worker bee drones that the atmosphere at the barn and farm is happy and content. It's amazing to me that we can be so busy but still find time to laugh and enjoy the process.

We have been making some plans for expansion and have reached a crossroads. I always knew this moment would come. I just didn't think it would be such a difficult hurdle to leap. Our farm is a lovely blend of rolling lush pastures and stately wooded areas. Each paddock is fringed by a lovely forest which wraps around the green fields like warm arms. There is an used area of the farm which is about 8 acres that houses not only the local coyote population but also a wealth of mature hard wood trees. As we prepare to fence the final pastures so that the horses can utilize them for late Summer/early Fall grazing, it seems logical to clear some of the woods so that the horses can traverse them more easily.

Now, that plan on the surface seems all well and good. The woods become cleared, the valuable hard wood can be sold to a logging company, and the valuable money we receive in return can be used for some amenity that the horses may need. The problem with this plan is my husband Wayne. He is a tree-hugging, non-littering, child of the 60's, no-you-are-not-killing-those-trees sort of guy. I am faced with the paradox of how to get a large logging operation onto the farm, into the woods, murder the trees, and not have my husband notice. Any suggestions would be welcome.

I will add an aside here that this is the same man who will not let me have a cow on the farm because he can't fathom the possibility of eating something that has a name. Although I've produced thoughtful, intelligent, well-planned arguments, I still have no cow to eat. I've skirted the issue of removing some of Wayne's forest before. The idea was met with such resistance, such ferocity, that I decided to wait for reinforcements.

Now, I am staging a coup. I've enlisted the assistance of wise advisors. I've assembled data (Wayne appreciates data); I've assembled legions to help form a formidable force against him. He will never see it coming. Soon, if my strategic planning works, the horses will be lounging in a shady new pasture with clear beautiful woods on its fringe. I'll let you know how that all works out for me!

Walking on Sunshine

2010-03-09T07:52:00.002-05:00

Well, today- like yesterday and the one before- is going to be glorious, sunny, and warm. Spring actually may be winning the battle. The grass is just beginning to show signs of green. The mares are ALL beginning to cycle for the year. Foals are being born. The two who live at the farm already Ella's foal Quincy and Tootsie's foal Myrtle spent yesterday frolicking in private paddocks. There's something about a newborn foal playing beside its mother that heralds Spring! So, today I will complete every possible outside project that I have and soak up some sunshine!

Ornery Opossum

2010-03-07T21:10:00.000-05:00

An ornery opossum arrived at the farm a few days ago. He is ornery because he wanders around in the middle of the day, hissing at us, the mares and foals, and the barn cats. He is breaking rules and crossing unspoken boundaries. Those barriers dictate that wildlife stays away from us- and we stay away from wildlife.

There was a brief debate regarding the probability (or possibility) that this opossum was rabid. Upon close (very close) inspection, I determined that he is just stupid. Or perhaps has distemper. Regardless, the animal was given notice that he should vacate the premises. Again, he proved himself stupid by disregarding my notice.

So, I decided yesterday that stronger action must be taken. I debated the use of a firearm to evict the marsupial from my farm. I decided against such drastic measure and opted to just club him in the head instead. I armed myself with weapons from the selection of stall-cleaning tools hanging on the wall in the barn. Having most recently sited the offensive critter in the pasture with the boy yearlings (Maxim, Jude, and Hotrod), I set out to harm the animal.

I reasoned that he did not belong at the farm. Opossums are known carriers of the disease called EPM which causes devastating neurological damage to horses. And, his daytime habits coupled with his confusion also seemed out of sorts. Surely, I needed to eliminate this varmint before he exposed the horses to disease or injury.

But, alas, the opossum has proved to be a wary, wiley animal. He has eluded my clubs (and garden rake) and seems to be a master of disappearing when I go to the paddocks with tools. The opossum sightings have increased as if he is laughing at my inability to eliminate him. This is one ornery opossum.

Some days, sad things happen

2010-03-06T18:03:00.002-05:00

Today was a sad day at the farm. Sad, heroic, tragic...choose a word. I was tempted to skip the events of today in my blog. It's easy to focus on the simple, happy, fullness that fills each day. The hardness of nature and life on a farm itself provides confronts us on occasion. My blog would seem counterfeit somehow if I glossed over days such as this one.

Before the sun arose, Tara, Annie (the breeding intern) and myself set out for a quick day-trip to Morehead State University. Brittney spent her sophomore year at college qualifying to compete at the Intercollegiate Horse Show Association Regionals. She was hoping that at least a small contingent from the farm would be able to cheer her on. As the sun was rising, and we were nearly to Lexington, the cell phone rang. It was Amber calling from the farm. She quickly informed me that there was an emergency situation involving Coco- a maiden mare due to foal near the end of March.

I exited the Interstate and headed back North as quickly as possible all the while mobilizing the team. The initial emergency was that Coco had foaled early this morning and was unattended due to the fact that she was still housed in a quarantine stall at the farm. She had arrived in our care 5 days before and showed no signs of an impending foaling.

I arrived back at the farm just minutes before Dr Mather to see the tiny foal standing beside her mother. The small blue roan filly seemed healthy but sluggish and had not been able to nurse her mother yet. Worse yet, the mare had suffered what appeared to be extensive damage to her vulva and rectum during the foaling. I will brag about our team for the briefest moment because everyone was so helpful, calm, and intelligent in dealing with the events of the morning.

We had stabilized the foal before Dr Mather's arrival with oxygen and were working with the mare's udder to try to get her milk to let down We helped the vet administer IV Plasma, tube nutrients into the foal, and an IV treatment of DMSO (Dimethyl Sulfoxide) to relieve impending swelling of the filly's brain tissues. With the foal stable, we turned our attention to the mare.

Upon examination, Dr Mather discovered that she had torn about a 10 inch section of her rectum. The entire "roof" of the uterus was missing and mangled with the shredded rectum above it. Everyone knew that this was a possible death sentence for the mare and forwarned of real trouble for the foal as well. The cell phone minutes ticked away as we tried to keep information to the mare owner, her vet and team at home, and decisions were made regarding the care and treatment of both patients.

Fast forward several hours, and we were loading mare and daughter onto a trailer to receive nursing care nearer to the owner's home. The months will be tenuous and long while the mare fights to recover from this tragedy. Each day she survives is one day better for the foal. Someone said as we loaded the mare- "She's a real fighter, she wants to stay alive and has done everything she could today to help us help her."

I send this blog out tonight with prayers and hope. Every so often, we are hit full-force with the smallness of our role in the universe. We are reminded that we are passengers on a much bigger vehicle. Today, we were all passengers and I can only hope that this ride ends in happiness, health and joy.

Fine Four-footed Friends

2010-03-03T20:32:00.000-05:00

Well, it's the end of another long day but I'm showered, have a full tummy, and all the work of the day was completed without complications. That (officially) goes on record as a good day. The barn seemed to teem with life today- both human and animal.

The day looked something like this. Morning dawned a bit too early today as our fine four-footed friends from Vermont arrived around 3:45am. Tess and Nona arrived a little thirsty and tired, and a lot hungry in the wee hours this morning. After getting them settled into their waiting stalls, I was wide awake. Perhaps because I had been outside in the just below freezing temperatures, or maybe because I knew that it would be dawn soon, regardless, I decided to stay awake and climb the small mountain of paperwork on my desk.

Once the sun finally decided to join me, we proceeded with our regular activities for a breeding season Wednesday. Paddocks were filled with bright green alfalfa, water tanks were refreshed and checked, horses were fed and stalls were cleaned. Tara and I tackled several large projects (including one which required the use of no less than 4 power tools!). Meanwhile, Gary and Amber put the school horses through their paces.

We were surprised with a visit from several visitors and another by an area horseman just before lunch. Then, after a brief detour to Taco Bell, we returned to the barn with a fresh load of hay. Again, another visitor- this time an owner delivering a mare to be bred by Chevy. After a short visit, everyone settled again into their respective list of chores.

There were horses to groom, ride, longe, hand-walk, and tease. Added to the mix were visits from two different farriers- one in the AM and another in the PM. So, as I'm winding this up tonight, Chevy has a brand new set of shiny rims. Much like the morning began, the evening is ending with horses munching hay while all wrapped up on their snug winter blankets. The days may be getting just a touch warmer and the flow of work is getting just a little quicker as we are no longer fighting snow and ice. Of course, mud comes with its own set of rules.

Twins, again.

2010-03-02T17:51:00.000-05:00

Well, it's that time of year again. Breeding season arrived at Fields Quarter Horses right on schedule this year. Each year- foaling season for the Quarter Horse at our farm runs from January 1st until mid-June. Because a horse gestates on average 340 days and we do not want our foals born before January 1st, breeding season opens a month later in February. This year, we've been quite busy already breeding mares.

The first set of mares were bred on February 12th by artificial insemination. Chevy has lots of lady friends but very little actual experience when it comes to meeting, dating, or otherwise wooing the opposite sex. His first venture to the breeding shed produced semen which was used to inseminate 4 mares. Those mares had been prepped for breeding season by being housed in stalls under lights for 16 hours each day. This process causes their bodies to produce more melatonin because their eyes are tricked into thinking that the days are longer than they really are. The increase in melatonin causes the balance of their hormones to "shift" and causes them to begin producing viable (or useable) eggs on their ovaries.

So, the first mares were poised on the bring of virtual Spring, they were inseminated, and again we intervened by utilizing a special compounded drug called Deslorelin to encourage the mares to ovulate the more fertile eggs (also called follicles). With the brave Chevy swimmers (semen) on board, it was left to Mother Nature to work her magic and we waited the long 16 days to determine if we had produced pregnancies. During the 16 days while we were waiting, we stacked the deck sort of by also giving the mares oral progesterone to make sure that their hormone levels stayed at a healthy level to maintain a budding pregnancy.

Well, I'm pleased to say that Chevy's first 2011 foals are on their way. Essi, who is a notorious culprit for producing twins, has been ultrasounded with a single healthy pregnancy. We will of course be checking her again at 21 days and then breathe easier when we find a heartbeat on the new embryonic horse at 27 days. From there, it will be 10 more months of feeding and nurturing the little life.

Sabrina, on the other hand, has decided to be generous and produce twins. Unfortunately, the mortality rate of twin foals is not very high so the best chance of a surviving foal is to eliminate one of the fetuses. Dr. Bruce Howard of Rood & Riddle visited the farm today to perform the procedure. As fascinating as the modern technology is, I am always sad at the loss of an embryo- particularly at our hands. But, I understand that it is absolutely necessary for the health of the mare and her unborn foal.

First, the vet identifies the position of the two embryos. He quickly makes a determination regarding which embryo has the best chance for survival based upon its size and position in the uterus of the mare. Frankly, it does pay to be the biggest, strongest, and have the best seat in the class. After determining which embryo will be the survivor, he isolates the unfortunate one into a different area of the uterus (if possible) and literally "pinches" it between his fingers. As I watched the little ball of genetics disappear on the ultrasound screen, I said a prayer that it would have a speedy return to horse heaven. The fluid from the dying embryo seeped around the healthy one before it was absorbed by the spongy walls of Sabrina's uterus.

To make sure the insult doesn't end up with an abortion of the survivor, we administer additional progesterone and anti-inflammatory drugs to the mare. She will be watched closely for several days but the vet felt that the procedure was pretty much textbook and the larger, healthier embryo would persevere.

So, I suppose breeding season also means that it's twin season at Fields Quarter Horses. We have good semen, good drugs, and a good feeding program. All these factors combined cause our farm to also have a high ratio of twin pregnancies. We are careful to examine the early pregnancies for any chances of twins for the safety of our mares but it is my fear that someday, we will deliver a set. I surely hope that we will not.

You're So Vain

2010-02-28T08:59:00.000-05:00

There are certain riddles which have perplexed mankind for years. These unanswered questions are woven through the fabric of our popular culture until they have become legend. Who really shot JR? Who is so vain? Did Puff the Magic Dragon inhale?

Some riddles are never solved; some questions never answered. But occasionally, a truth escapes the great unknown and finds its way home. As I turned on my computer this morning, I was struck by the headline that Carly Simon had finally revealed the subject of her hit song "You're So Vain". Will wonders never cease? Actually, it doesn't really matter whom it was. I couldn't really care less. I was just struck by the absurdity that someone/anyone felt that this news warranted equal or higher billing than the plight of mankind.

It ranked on my headline news above the death toll from the Chilean earthquake; it came before the information regarding the landfall of the resulting tsunami. Someone in their infinite wisdom actually thought that this little blurb of popular culture was news. Well, I suppose to a fish in a bowl, it may have been. To someone who was too wrapped up in our Hollywood culture, or fame, or show business- it probably was more important than human suffering or a South American's plight for survival.

So, I'll answer the question with a riddle of my own- who, exactly, among us is so vain? I am personally going to examine myself and those around me carefully. I'm sure there will be things I don't like. Ringo is very vain and Chevy can be narcisistic at times. But we all know that raccoons and stallions have large egos. Regardless, I think it's time we step aside from our selfves and the "me" and think about the collective "we"...I'm going to suggest that Ringo and Chevy begin practicing that policy effective immediately.

Top Ten List of reasons...

2010-02-27T13:39:00.000-05:00

reasons I like Winter...

10. Snow Ball fights
9. 4-Wheel Drive Trucks
8. Carhart Bib Overalls
7. January foals
6. Wool sweaters
5. Snow Angels
4. Warm horse coats under their winter blankets
3. Hot Chocolate
2. The fireplace
and the #1 reason I like Winter is...

Spring follows it!

Paris France

2010-02-24T18:56:00.000-05:00

There is a new mare who lives at the farm and we call her Paris France. This is not to be confused with the horse named Just Paris or the city near us called Paris, Kentucky. She's a bit too exotic to be just down the road and a bit to tall to be compared to the other mare named Paris so she has received the moniker Paris France.

She is a daughter of a deceased stallion named Luke At Me. He was a black horse and his offspring have a tell-tale dark coat color. She is either black or extremely dark brown and towers above me and the other horse handlers at the barn. She is a gentle giant who although likes to play and toss around in her stall, is quiet and mannerly when we work with her.

She arrived a few weeks ago to be bred to Chevy. She came straight from a life where she was recently attending horse shows and traveling the country. She seems to have settled well into country life and likes the surplus of food coupled with the lack of anything strenuous to do. She lounges around and from her stall can see visitors entering and leaving the main barn entrance. She is quick to nicker a greeting or ask for an extra morsel of food.

Last week, she began her journey to motherhood and was introduced to the sperm of Chevy. It was an uneventful affair which ended with a human kissing her on the nose and an extra flake of hay for dinner. We will find out in another 12 days or so if it worked!

The Calm Before the Storm

2010-02-23T16:19:00.000-05:00

The snow has begun to melt- the birds chirped yesterday for just a bit. It has been above freezing for at least 3 days. I believe that Spring may be just around the corner. Of course, I won't let my guard down and trust Mother Nature for even a moment. Her whimsy may turn to revenge in a moment's notice and we may find ourselves buried under a deluge of ice or snow again. She is female personified- crazy, volatile, flirtatious, sexy, manipulative, bubbly, and sweet. That's the Mother Nature I know of late.

On other fronts, the mares, trainers, young horses, and rest of us have settled into a gentle (yet busy) routine. That's always a sure sign that there is a storm brewing. One thing that previous foaling seasons have taught me is that just about the time I adjust to a routine- it will change.

Dr. Mather has resumed her regular farm visits to check mares for breeding. She seems to have fallen back into our regular morning routine rather easily this year. Chevy has seen more than his fair share of the AV (here's a link- I'm not going to explain what that is here http://www.extension.org/pages/Horse_Semen_Collection
and even he seems to have settled back into the routine of a breeding stallion rather quickly.

I found myself wondering if this were the calm before the storm today. The routines seem easy- the help plentiful. So, we shall just wait and see what comes of this calm that everyone seems to be experiencing...

Ode to the Goat

2010-02-22T17:57:00.000-05:00

Sadly, Kit the Pygmy Goat lost a valiant battle with cancer yesterday afternoon. She passed over the Rainbow Bridge just a few steps away from where she was born 9 years ago. She was the source of much amusement, frustration, and laughter in our family. Services were held for her earlier today in the Goat Family Plot at Fields Quarter Horses and her cremains will be interred there later this week. Her smiling face will be missed.

RIP...The Goat...2/22/10

Top Ten List...

2010-02-21T14:04:00.000-05:00

This is a top ten list of things I would rather be doing today:

10. working in my Spring flower beds
9. riding Chevy
8. watching an episode of the HBO series "Big Love"
7. wearing a bikini
6. selling a brown Chevy yearling colt
5. eating birthday cake
4. wearing sunglasses
3. going to a horse show
2. foaling a mare
and the #1 thing I would rather be doing today is...
seeing our grandest child Shelby in Arkansas

New Sheriff In Town

2010-02-20T10:17:00.000-05:00

There's a new sheriff in Fields Town and his name is Gary. Earlier this month, Fields Quarter Horses announced the addition legendary horseman Gary Trubee to our team. Gary has been involved with the American Quarter Horse as a professional for over 40 years. He brings with him hands-on knowledge having been an intrical player in the careers of so many legendary horses and horsemen in our industry. It's always interesting to see yourself through someone else's eyes and this week has been interesting to watch Gary watch us and our horses.

Although he has been a fan of Chevy- he has been admittedly surprised at the talent and greatness that Chevy shows us on a daily basis. He has commented on his unusually gentle and playful nature and marvelled at his mad Western Pleasure skills. It's always a relief to have an NSBA Hall of Famer tell me that my horse is truly special.

He's worked side by side with Amber this week watching, discussing, and offering advice on the training horses. She, too, must be relieved to have been pronounced talented and "a good horse trainer". We've bred a remarkable number of mares already for the 2010 breeding season to have just kicked off. I keep telling everyone that maybe it means an early Spring. No one seems impressed by that statement as we daily shovel snow, sled hay to paddocks, and carry water to horses. On that note, let me just say that Gary Trubee is not only a great horseman but a damn good water bucket carrier as well. What a bonus to discover that he has other mad skills in addition to working with great horses.

So, as the dawn of a new breeding season emerges, I believe so does the dawn of a new age at Fields Quarter Horses. The calls are even more frequent, the horses are looking even more special, the show homes are more plentiful for the Chevy foals, and I can honestly say that my plans to take over the world are taking shape!

Khris

The White Death

2010-02-16T16:30:00.000-05:00

Winter has slapped us in the face the past couple of weeks. As if she were reminding us that we are ever vulnerable, small, and not really in control of anything, she laughed at our efforts yesterday as our farm received over 8 inches of snow. This fell quickly and atop several other snows which were already inhabiting the Earth around us so we (and our neighbors) quickly conceeded the battle and hunkered down until her fury was diminished.

The snow event arrived in full force around 6:00am yesterday morning. Cooper the miniature stallion was outside in an overnight paddock so after the horses were fed, watered, and bedded down for the storm, I went to retrieve him. As I approached the gate to his paddock, I peered through the pelting snow for his little head. He stands 27 inches at the shoulder and is mostly white so in a snow storm, he could be easily lost.

I didn't see him immediately but began calling his name. I felt as though he wouldn't be able to hear me as the wind gusts were nearly 30 miles per hour and the snow was obscuring everything. I heard his shrill whinny and kept trudging to the gate. He was waiting there for me- head bowed to keep the driving snow from his eyes, too.

I slipped the tiny halter over his nose and fastened the buckle behind his ears. As soon as his gear was fastened, he nearly raced out of the gate beside me- anxious to reach the warmth and shelter of the barn a few yards away. Abruptly, he encountered a snow drift. Having just traipsed through the wall of snow, I knew it was nearly as high as my thighs. Cooper only paused a moment and leapt forward into the air to breach the 4 foot drift. He landed a few feet forward- smack dab in the center of more snow. With another huge effort, he leapt again, snapping his tiny knees upward in a perfect Hunter horse pose as he hoisted his body into the air.

Now, the snow was beating upon us. All thoughts of its beauty and softness were gone as we were faced with ice cold lethal white death. Beside me, I could feel Cooper's fear mount as he continued to leap forward in giant bounds. He reminded me for an instant of a Lipizanner from the Spanish Riding School in Vienna that I had once seen in an exhibition. He continued to snap his knees upward and with great thrusts of his haunches, propelled himself out of the snow only to land back in the deep drifts. I could only offer my encouragement and let him know that I would not leave him alone. He seemed to understand and we paused for a moment- both of us out of breath from the force of the wind and snow. Then, his second wind grabbed hold and he leaped and bounded in several great bursts.

Soon, we were out of the drift and both able to trot the remainder of the distance to the barn. Neither of us needed encouragement to get to the warm haven quickly. Once inside, I pulled the door closed and walked Cooper to the stall. There, waiting for him was a fluffy bed of straw and a snack of delicious green hay. He whinnied once more in his shrill little voice as if to make sure that everyone in the barn knew that he had arrived.

I passed by the stall later and overheard him retelling his adventure to Wendy- the red roan yearling. She hung on every word and her eyes glowed with the excitement of his adventure. I did not have the heart to correct him when he took the liberty of adding even more danger and drama to the saga. After all, he had earned his tale- however he wished to retell it!

Khris

Soap Operas

2010-02-14T09:12:00.000-05:00

I was raised on Soap Operas. My mother and aunts were dedicated to the characters of The Young and the Restless in a manner which now seems cultish. The characters were much like extended family that were never present at family gatherings but were discussed in great length and with much familiarity. It occurerd to my yesterday that our farm and its characters is nothing more than a string of mini-Soaps.

Days of Our Lives: Like sands through the hourglass, so are the Days of Our Lives.... this opening narration plays through my head each morning as we begin and end every day. Perhaps because we work with animals who like the rest of nature crave routine and order, we become creatures of that environment and carry out routines without noticing the grooves that we are forming.

The Young and the Restless. It's foaling season and we are consumed by young, tender, tiny things every day. Either last years foals, or two-year-olds learning new lessons, or the tiniest little horses who are coming this year- they are all so young and anxious to see the world.

The Bold and the Beautiful. Chevy had his first semen collection on Friday and I could not help but stand in awe of this magnificent animal. He is kind, loving, and an old soul yet the raw power that a stallion exhibits during the breeding process is overwhelming at times. Watching him do his part to create future Quarter Horses, I could not help but stand back and wonder at the true beauty and character of this animal.

General Hospital. Dr. Mather has resumed her often visits to the farm as there are foals to see, mares to ultrasound, and breeding work to do. With the influx of new horses to the farm, there are ever-present medical needs from the small to the momenetus which always need attention. Why aren't horses born with helmets to protect them?

As the World Turns. Now that we've walked this path for a while, I find the breeding seasons are beginning to blend together- one year into the next. The routines are established- collect the stallions on Monday, Wednesday, Friday; eat Pizza on Tuesdays; groom mares; halter-break babies. I find them comforting and am happy that I can lose myself in my work. It's a wonderful place to be!

All My Children. My children are becoming spread about- Brittney is away at school, Josh and Amanda are in the Air Force in Little Rock, the foals move away to new homes. Ringo and Chevy are here with me- yes, I consider them in a category just short of children. With each new departure, our family grows and I become more blessed to have new friends and family members.

So, today as we accept a few new mares, send Cash the two-year-old home, send Wolf to his new owner, and go about our regular business, I'll maybe hear that Soap Opera narrator's voice in my head a few times. But, that's better than hearing strange voices in my head, right?

Khris

Two Policemans and a Tractor

2010-02-12T09:53:00.000-05:00

Whew. I have been swamped this week. Every one of us has been rising with the sun, going hard all day long, and falling into bed much too late each night. For some reason, I think we forget exactly how busy foaling and breeding season truly is. It takes a huge team effort each and every day to accomplish both the mundane and the extraordinary things we do.

Here are some Noteable Notes along with some Quotable Quotes from the past few days:

On Sunday, Wayne, Tara and I began the process of constructing 6 stalls in the indoor arena for the overflow of horses we were expecting to arrive at the farm in the next week. Like many things, the project seemed to creep forward at a snail's pace. Two horses who were already living in the main barn thought that since we already had our tools assembled, they would oblige us by breaking a couple of stall walls. How thoughtful of them to do so while we had drills, saws, bolts and screws handy. That day's quotable quote is not fit to print.

On Monday, we continued the construction process and still had one wall to repair. This time, Amber joined our crew to construct stall walls and Neighbor Jim showed up just in time for the wall fixing party. He took the lead assisted by myself and Tara. Neighbor Jim is an oddity of nature because he owns every tool known to the industrialized world. He could singlehandedly build an ark in one day, I do believe. At one moment during the wall fixin, he observed Tara and I standing on an upturned bucket together- vieing for a foothold as we tried to reach a bolt high above our heads. He asked, "Girls, If I may use your ladder bucket for a moment please?" We obliged.

On Tuesday, we attended to regular chores and business and caught up on neglected duties from the previous days. I believe someone on the team may have said, "I'm sore," once or twice. I helped unload bulk straw for bedding while Amber resumed teaching her tiny ones their lessons (horses and humans alike).

On Wednesday, we woke bright and early and dove into the final stages of the stall construction process. Wayne and Tara unloaded the final hardware and fixtures for the stalls and then everyone revved up for a final massive effort to finalize the project. By 9:00pm on Wednesday evening, the lesson mares from the farm were happily munching hay in their cozy new arena stalls.

On Thursday, we disinfected stalls and prepared them for the afternoon arrival of Chevy and Company from Michigan with Christa Baldwin. We were anticipating the snow and ice we had received since the weekend was going to cause some complications so we coerced the assistance of Bubby (Neighbor to Neighbor Jim) and his large tractor to plow the parking lot and driveway. Then, salted the small hill leading into the farm heavily and prayed. Unfortunately, we either didn't pray long enough or use salt liberally enough as the trailer loaded with 4500 pounds of Chevy and 3 friends became firmly lodged into the bank as it entered the driveway. Unable to go forward or backward, we were in a pickle. Within approximately 9 seconds, we were swooped down upon by several policeman who deftly guided traffic around the sight. Like an army of worker bees, neighbors poured forth from their homes to weild shovels and advice. Soon, the crowd swarmed to near mob size of 12 people. Neighbor Jim's Neighbor Bubby was called with his large tractor and after roughly 90 minutes of strategizing and several failed attempts, the 50 foot rig and it's truck were finally pulled up the incline by the little tractor that could. Someone was heard to say, "Well, all that took was two policemans and a tractor." If I had known, I may have had those tools on standby.

The events of this week ended with a most bizarre dinner at Olive Garden which involved a shortage of Lasagna and Gluten Free Pasta. No one was injured in the making of this blog so all-in-all, it can be counted as a successful week. And, now on to construct something else...after all, that's how one builds an Empire, I hear!

Khris

Another Top Ten List

2010-02-08T21:35:00.000-05:00

This is a top ten list of things to do in February at Fields Quarter Horses
10. Think about having a foal
9. Shovel snow or ice
8. Build temporary stalls because we are crowded
7. Buy a yearling Chevy
6. Tease a mare to see if she's in heat
5. Look at the Show Season list
4. Ultrasound your mare
3. Daydream about green pastures
2. Have a foal
And the number one thing to do in February at Fields Quarter Horses is...

Breed a mare to Chevy!

Technicolor Bugs

2010-02-07T20:27:00.001-05:00

I walked along the flower lined path at the little barn and noted that nature had decided to be creative in her display this Spring. I paused a moment to determine the name for one such color and was distracted by tiny voices below me. I craned my ear toward the source of the commotion. Peering through the tapestry of colors alongside the drive, I noticed a miniature procession. It was being led by the most important looking beetle that I had ever seen. He was polished and so shiny that my reflection looked back at me from his black shell. Atop his head, was a large grey top hat made of the highest quality mouse fur available. He wielded a walking cane that appeared to be ivory- I surmised it must be polished bone although it was so fine and fragile it was nearly transluscent.

Behind the surely important beetle, there was a pair of matching caterpillars with unruly orange hairs. Although they wore matching harnesses, the caterpillars creeped with untamed beauty as they tossed their fine heads. Behind the unruly pair of caterpillars, was an expertly crafted sleigh driven by a handsome carpenter ant. Several of his arms deftly held silken spider web reins used to control the lively caterpillars as the rest of his legs lifted and steadied his body into an upright position atop the sleigh. With each powerful thrust, the caterpillars propelled the unusual contraption forward.

The contents of the sleigh were at first hard to distinguish. I knelt onto the gravel drive to peer more closely at the procession. From my new vantage point, I had a much better view. There, carefully contained in the handcrafted wooden sleigh and nestled among a downy bed of dandelion fluff, was a lady bug. She was heavy with bug and her discomfort was evident as she shifted her bulk trying to find comfort. Her black spots seemed to have taken on shapes of their own and were no longer dots but rather splotches on her ruby exoskeleton. Although she was trying not to grimace I noted that she had the most exquisite face I had ever seen on a bug- lady or not.

The flowered canopy cast a rainbow of shadows across their path and I could not help but wonder about this technicolor parade beneath my nose. Then, before I could ponder their destination or origination, the important beetle lifted his cane into the air above his head. Behind him, the carpenter ant deftly pulled the spirited team of caterpillars to a halt.

To Be Continued...

Peeple of the Wurld...

2010-02-05T22:51:00.000-05:00

Peeple of the Wurld...may I have your attention pleez?

This is Ringo the Raccoon. I discovered the compooter had been left unguarded and have decided to write my own bog tonight. I asked the goat what she thought I should say. She said "Bleh." Stoopid goat. So, I think I will write a bog about what I did today.

This morning, I woke up. I scratched my tummy. I ate a big marshmallow. I washed my hands in my water bucket. I plotted to take over the wurld. I ate another big marshmallow. I was tired from plotting so I took a nap. When I woke up, I washed my hands and scratched my tummy.

Tomorrow, I will ask my mudder what she writes in her bog each day. She doesn't eat marshmallows but sometimes I see her plotting. My fadder is afraid she may take over the wurld. It is now time to eat another marshmallow.

Oh no. I think I got sticky fingers on my mudder's compooter.

Ringo

The Little Barn

2010-02-03T20:21:00.000-05:00

If you traveled down the little road just a little while, you would come to the little barn. It sat nestled between a grove of oak trees which was older than most of the people I know and a wide open field of blue and orchard grasses. It was just a ways off the beaten path but close enough to be right around the corner. In Summertime, the fields surrounding the little barn were filled with mares nosing through lush green grass that grew so thickly it reached above their ankles. Their foals played and laid on the plush carpet around them.

Sunshine peeked through pillowy clouds and floated to land upon the roof of the little barn. The rays were infected with warmth and they wrapped it in their embrace. Inside, even the shadows radiated the glow and beckoned one to sit within them for a bit. Those who lived in the little barn were charmed. They did not know trial nor sorrow for it was banished here. For longer than the oak trees could remember, only happiness had lived beneath their embrace. In the little barn, it was easy to forget time itself. This was a place for life and living and ease.

The exterior of the little barn was neat and tidy. It seemed as if someone loved it very much, from the great care that was placed in its keeping. It was evident from the carefully placed gravel in the drive winding to the carefully latched front door. On each side of the long drive, there were wildflowers which sprung up from the ground in a sporadic pattern that was so perfect, it must have been accidental. Rich colors sprinkled the path to the little barn in daring combinations. Only Nature could be so carefree that it would wear such vibrant colors.

At the little barn, the raindrops were warm and the snowflakes were the extra large variety that stayed on your tongue for a few moments longer. The seasons swayed gently with the rhythm of life and creation. I stop by the little barn sometimes, just to pay a visit and enjoy the fresh air. But, like many who stop there, I cannot stay long for I must get home to tend to my own animals. So, next time you are down the road just a little way, stop by the little barn for a visit of your own- you won't regret it.

Khris
This was just a peek at my own personal Heaven- hope you enjoyed it!

Tootsie

2010-02-02T21:39:00.000-05:00

Now on Cam at Fields Quarter Horses....Tootsie!

You may remember Tootsie from last year. She is due 3/3/10 and bred to AQHA stallion Huntin For Chocolate. Tootsie is owned by Ronnie and Vickie Kent from Florida.

The entire Quarter Horse industry grieved with the Kent family when they lost the great horses Wonit Ona RV Version and Ill Be RV Radical. Tootsie is a full sister to the mare and half sister to the gelding. Full story here: http://americashorsedaily.com/a-horsemans-heart/

She safely delivered a healthy bay colt last year and we are expecting a safe, normal delivery for the Kents again this year. Please join us in watching Tootsie on cam as she approaches her due date and delivery.

Here are photos of her siblings at the 2009 AQHA World Show before their passing. And here is the Fields QH Cam link: http://www.marestare.com/fcam.php?alias=fieldsqh

Leaps of Faith

2010-02-01T21:49:00.001-05:00

I had a realization today. It came to me somewhere between Ella and Tootsie's stalls. Of course, some of my greatest thinking moments have occurred while I was holding a manure fork. I determined that my life can be summed up as nothing more than a string of decisions. Like strands of DNA which connect to form the cell of my life, my decisions have also connected to create the who, the now, the where, and the why that are me.

Sometimes, these strands are repeated. We make one good decision and are likely to repeat that decision in our favor over the course of our lives. Other times, we mutate and make decisions that seem out of character. These are the decisions which can oft times define our evolution to a new self. Of course, mutant decisions can have life-altering affects as well. Sometimes, we spend years overcoming the results of these decisions.

Regardless, my life is a culmination of the decisions I have made. Never one to be a passenger, I have steered my own course- with whatever guidance seemed appropriate at the time. As I get older, I find that I am beginning to make choices more cautiously. Where I once held my breath and jumped into the deep end with no fear, I now find that leaps of faith are becoming harder to make.

I'm not exactly sure why this is so- my life is full and I am happy. Obviously, I've made some good decisions along the way. Yet, for whatever reason, I find myself on the cliff of a choice and I've been teetering on the precipice. I've held my breath, waited for someone to push me/or pull me back, and prayed that a sign would come. Silly me. It's been there all the time- I just need to take a leap of faith.

Top Ten List

2010-01-31T23:27:00.000-05:00

I haven't done a top ten list for a while so I thought I would throw one in here. This is the top ten list of things I hope to never hear (again or ever) while foaling a mare!

10. Yuk, that tasted bad.
9. Is my crack showing?
8. Red bag.
7. Where's the nose?
6. high pitched screams
5. It's upside down!
4. I wonder what placenta would taste like?
3. Where's my wedding ring?
2. Breech

and the #1 thing I never want to hear during a foaling is:

There's another one coming (twin)!