Ruby 2015 07 July - A Horse In My House

Ruby has her hooves trimmed for the first time. Certainly not a lot, but she hardly fusses when Bill, our farrier, lifts her feet. We are all pleased. Ruby's droppings seem a little firmer, and I am happy for that. It is good to see the scours become a thing of the past. I can lead Ruby a few feet forward, and pick up all four feet. With just a lead draped over her neck, I can apply fly spray to her legs.

Kim comes by and we saddle Sara and Sparky to enjoy a ride in the park. Along the upper river trail, a walker has his dog off its leash. He is a big one who barks madly and makes like he is going to rush us on this narrow trail. We pull our boots from our stirrups and quickly swing to the ground. Fortunately, we have the short horses and neither of us have to bail off Zena. We kindly chastise the owner for having his dog off his leash - a no no in the county park. Later that evening, early 4th of July firecrackers drive us all crazy.

It is chilly early on the 4th - just sixty degrees. Gary and I pull out our tools to mow the lawn and clear the paths on the back ten. I use the wide leaf rake to scratch Ruby's back. She likes it! I fly spray her naked - without a lead. When we are finished with the yard work, we let all four girls graze in the yard while we play 500 Rummy on the screened porch. It is surely a very good day.

I take Zena and Ruby for a walk around the back ten.

We see webs built by bowl-and-doily spiders.

Ruby is letting me lift her back feet while untethered; and Zena is letting me fly spray her legs untethered. Both good girls. I appreciate the trust. During a morning walk on the ten-acre path, Gary, I, and our Corgi Skipper come upon baby raccoons. How cool.

One morning, I find turkey feathers in the horse pen. Now, how did they get in there?

I decide it is time to put Ruby in a separate stall, right next to her mom's, to eat her grain. They both handle this minor separation fine.

And, so does my other grand daughter, Taylor.

We have been allowing all four horses to graze on the lawn on the west side of the barn. Ruby does an incredible amount of running around, but always respects our space. If she comes too close, we just put our arms up and she veers away. But, today, Kim visits and, while we are standing near the little red barn, Ruby comes flying up, circles behind us, and as she comes around the other side, kicks her back hoof high enough to catch Kim on the side of the head. Kim's wrist deflects the blow as Ruby's hoof grazes her cheek. Even though we all know horses are unpredictable, Kim and I are both shocked. This is so unlike Ruby. And, she is still running around like crazy. As we stand in the tack room, checking to see whether Kim has suffered serious damage - fortunately, she did not - Ruby comes flying into the barn, sliding on the pavement as she does. This is also highly unusual because she has already learned that the pavement is slippery. She always comes to a walk before stepping on the concrete pad. Based on the circumstantial evidence, Kim and I decide that Ruby must have been trying hopelessly to escape a mammoth horse fly. Their attacks can leave three-inch-wide welts.

One morning, I find a baby barn swallow has fallen from its nest at the far end of the arena. It is behind the half-wall and safe from the horses, so I leave it.

In the afternoon, the parents are flying maniacally around the arena but there is no way I can get the baby back up into the nest. I tuck it in straw to keep it warm over night. But, in the morning, it is gone.

With every passing day, Ruby is gaining size, strength, speed, and confidence. Now I realize why Forever Morgans so strongly encouraged me to adopt two babies - even if one was just on temporary foster. Ruby needs a playmate big time. She is becoming pretty darn aggressive in her demands for attention. I need to find a way to build some respect, but I do not want to incorporate punishment into the protocol. I search the internet and settle on a program called Trust-Technique - an animal communication program developed by James French. He is a Reiki practitioner who uses meditation, being-in-the-now, and finding-zero to relate to dogs, cats, horses, and ... lions. I invest something over four-hundred dollars in the hope that his on-line program can help me learn to remain relaxed when I interact with Ruby. The next morning, I fly-spray the horses in their stalls while "maintaining peace." They actually do seem to stand more quietly for me. Maybe, it is just my imagination. I do not halter any of the four as I spray. During the afternoon, I stand quietly - performing peace - with Sara and Sparky outside, and with Ruby in her stall. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am not at all good at standing still.

Crystal wants to help mow the lawn. She is twelve now, so I figure it is high time she learn to drive the tractor.

It is hot and her hair keeps getting in her way; so we tie it up with plastic caution tape!

Using my cell-phone camera, I compose a ten-minute video that simply switches randomly between pictures of an “A” and a “B.” I call it my ABC video, and play it on a laptop outside Ruby’s stall while she eats her grain. I play it almost every morning and every night, wondering whether anything is subconsciously entering her brain.

Crystal comes over and rides both Sara and Sparky in the arena before helping me collect manure samples for parasite checks. We use disposable gloves and label each zip-lock baggie with the horses’ names. I spend quiet time with Ruby every night, grooming and visiting.

On July 17, it is rainy and heading toward eighty-six degrees. As usual, Ruby helps me pick pens by chewing on the handles of the wheelbarrow. I have to be careful that she doesn’t sneak up behind me because she wants to play by rearing and nipping. But, today is a good day—no reprimands. I have three hard beach balls in the pen and we roll them around. As the temps barely dip in the evening, Kim brings her very young granddaughters, Ava and Lucca, over and we all enjoy giving the horses a late night groom. I enjoy wonderful cool mornings with Ruby and sit quietly with the horses in the heat of the afternoons.

My stable is essentially retired, but I still offer one-time events - mostly gifts. Here, a young fellow named Wyatt handles a horse for the very first time. Sara is very good for him.

On another day, she offers a birthday outing for the girl in pink. Two more children who had never touched a horse.

On July 21, Gary and I pick Crystal up at her house and take her to breakfast at a local restaurant before returning home for a day with the horses. We walk in the barn to find that Sara, while standing in the arena, had stuck her head into a stall through its grain-feed opening. I’m not sure what she thought she would get; but what she DID get was a badly torn forehead and a chunk out of her jowl.

Crystal checks out the damage. Sara's forehead skin is folded right under.

I've had horses wandering loose in the arena for thirty years and - other than Pony Express, who was small enough to stick his head freely in and out of his grain window - never had a full-size horse try to stick their head through a grain window. I think maybe I should take the wire mesh fronts off the stalls altogether.

Crystal and I perform a temporary wrap to keep Sara's head clean until Doc can arrive; and we load her up on Bute because we are guessing she has a REALLY bad headache.

My eighty-six-year-old vet, Dr. Jim, is having cataract surgery today, so his equally elder retired vet brother, John, stitches Sara. He does a beautiful job—especially considering the mess with which he had to work—and tells us to apply Red Oil twice daily.

Dr. John injecting Lidocaine as an anesthetic.

Stitching done. I expect she will be scarred for life.

I decide I will take the wire fronts off the stalls so there will be no grain windows. It’s a quick job, and now the horses can hang their heads over the stall’s half wall into the arena.

The days remain exceptionally hot. Kim and I shampoo Sara and Sparky. I yell at Ruby for nipping me. Most horse trainers will say that, when our horse does something like this, we should yell like their life is about to end for thirty seconds and then go on as if nothing happened. But, I do not want to scream at Ruby. It does not make common sense if I have any interest in building a trusting relationship. Still, I do not want her nipping. The next day, the temps reach ninety. Ruby nips me in the afternoon and, with a knee-jerk reaction, I whack her for it. I am ashamed of myself, and relieved when she behaves wonderfully in the evening. So, is it because I whacked her?

Doc Jim stops by to check on Sara. Her stitches are five days old.

Aside from Ruby's nipping and wanting to climb on the other horses and me - she is wonderful. She stands quietly for haltering and fly spraying. My diary repeats, "Ruby wonderful" and "wonderful day."