Chicken Valley.

Anthony built this in two (half) days! Our chicks are becoming so cramped, large and active that we've kicked furnishing "Chicken Valley" with a coop into high gear. Oh yeah, plus we're about to have a new baby.

Sue.

    My hopes and dreams for our humble farm included a horse. Through fate we were delivered Sue: a nine year old registered paint mare who was given to us by a wonderful and kind owner who thoughtfully decided she was "too much horse" for her eleven year old daughter. Sue is very well bred. She also has exquisite ground manners. When haltered (especially with a rope halter) she is watchful, careful of your space and basically on alert for any command. She is trustworthy around Stella and the dogs and now in love with Bacchus. We couldn't ask for a more perfect little mare. Nobody has been on her in our family and we know very little about her history. 

    Yesterday, I broke out my brand-new bargain English bridle and loose ring snaffle bit (basically a training bit). She was hesitant, but accepted the bit. I fastened a lunge line around her head attached to the bit and headed out to pasture for a little "training". She was practically running over me on the way out. She was tense and unhappy. Out in the field, she definitely did her best with the uneven and unpredictable footing but wasn't at her best. Not ideal. What happened to the responsive and light mare in the rope halter? On line, she stopped several times at the trot and just faced me. When I asked her to move on at one point, she flew backwards about twenty feet resulting in a nasty rope burn (I didn't let go). She nostrils flaring, eyes wild and mouth open. Sucky :( 

   So I've re-evaluated my goals and hung up the English bridle and bit for now. Today I used the rope halter and took my time with a long grooming session having no expectations. My goals are for every interaction to build a trusting relationship working toward some light dressage and trail riding. But mostly just to go slowly and to be consistent. And of course to have fun with and enjoy her. I'm really after an arena where we can work on ground work off line. I'm ordering a rope hackamore and finishing watching this cool documentary. 

Stella's World

   At the center of our world is Stella. Though we have a lot of things going on at home, this little girl is with us and experiencing all kinds of new things. She is, for the most part, a happy, sweet and laid-back little girl. She is a very fearless and independent young lady which can be challenging as a parent, but ultimately, is something I'm very proud of. This is a strong, funny and loving person in the making. We absolutely adore her. To be honest, she makes life worth living.

Here she is hamming it up with her dog, Bossy.

River-Stomping!

Besties.

Caught red-handed....finger painting.

With Bacchus.

Watching the sun set and ice-eating.

Cousin Nic painting her nails.

With Grammie.

Nic is her special buddy.

Trying to be gentle with a tiny chick.

Bacchus loses his manhood; I try not to lose my mind.

It was a big day here at Honeysuckle for our little rescued donkey, Bacchus. He was gelded. This simple operation entitles him to a better life, not lived in sexual angst, and able to cavort with his best friend, our mare, Sue. When his recovery is complete (about a week or so), he will be free to spend the summer out in our beautiful pasture with her. But it was my first gelding and Anthony's first large animal vet visit. And we had to assist. 

Bacchus gets a little relaxer drug.

Aaaand he's down.

Post-surgery. Poor lil guy.

So what ticks me off beyond anything these days? TICKS. Being from the NW, I've never dealt with the utter nightmare of tropical insects. Ticks, you may or may not know, are arachnids with a beetle-like shell that is virtually impenetrable. They have extremely powerful jaws that they use to clamp onto the unsuspecting victim's skin and slowly burrow their heads into said skin where they (like a vampire) suck the blood right outta ya. They will feed for a couple days then drop off the host. They also carry diseases. I've just picked one out of my precious two-year old Stella's hair - with tweezers as it was embedded in her scalp. Oh yeah, they're awful.

But you know what? It's in the 80's this week. And the trees look like this:

Anthony says if you want to enjoy tropical-like living conditions, you gotta take the good with the bad. He's right.

Cleared pastures; tractor fever.

After obsessing over the ticks I was finding on the dogs (I had run out of Advantix) and doing some research on these nightmarish pests (totally new to this native North-westerner), I advised Anthony that we needed to bush-hog the pastures to help control the little buggers.





 The next day Mr. Ray from Craigslist came out with heavy equipment and spent half a day with Anthony clearing and cutting while Stella and I went to a birthday party in the city.

Ps. This may be TMI but the dude had camouflage  underwear. Now THAT'S a country boy.

               


 

                              How cute is Anthony on heavy equipment?

Here's the beautiful result! Sue especially seems pleased.

Now I have tractor fever and can't get this country song out of my head.

Meanwhile...I'm growing another human.

Yeah, I'm all that. Amid a remodel, move, animal aquisition and hense-forth care-taking, I've been growing another baby. I've also recently begun asking for people to take some pictures of me in this most beautiful state - the third trimester (no, I'm not being sarcastic). It's definitely the best trimester, in my opinion. You get a lot of attention and help (nice), you have a beautiful round belly with daily movement, and you also know you're almost done. I'm feeling especially nostalgic about this one as it's our last. Today, I'm 36 weeks and 4 days. Here are some recent pics:

 Easter at Myrna's.

                                             Me on the farm today!

A quiet moment nursing Stella on the couch in the sun last week....we are getting excited for our home birth and to meet and welcome our new addition. OUR BOY.

Bacchus' Story: Win, Win.

It's no secret that my husband, Anthony, has been a long term admirer of the donkey. His grandfather in Lebanon had a donkey when Anthony was a boy and it made a big impression on him; he's wanted one for the longest. So naturally, when we moved to Honeysuckle, talk of the donkey became more frequent. What kind did we want? A spotted? A mini? A mammoth? What about a mule?

Our farrier, Mr. Pete, was out trimming up Sue last week when I casually mentioned we would eventually be getting a donkey and so he's have another four hooves to trim...as soon as the words came out of my mouth, his son was running to get the cell phone from the truck to give me the contact info for a friend and local cattle rancher, Mike S. "This donkey's been runnin' his cattle. He'd probably give him to you." After a call to Mike - who (with a chuckle) advised that if he had his rifle with him yesterday, he wouldn't have a donkey to give me - Anthony and Stella and I headed out to his cattle farm in Newnan. You see, I believed him. This old-timer was pissed off about the little donkey.

A few miles south of beautiful historic Newnan (totally fell in love with this town ), Mike's farm is hundreds of acres of rolling green hills dotted with short, stocky, red Angus cattle. TRUE farming country and a scrappy old farmer to boot.

After standing around several cattle and Mike's two jenny's and our little Bacchus, Mike was suddenly on his I-Phone to Pete, making arrangements to haul him to our farm in Palmetto. It was clear that Mike was over the little jack. "He'd knocked over several heifers last week so I put him in with the bulls to teach him a lesson. The bulls came back to the fence huffin' and puffin'. He's just too aggressive". I gazed at the little yearling donk standing next to the jennies looking fairly benign and innocent.

He also advised us that the donkeys didn't get any feed all winter (and had no shelter). Clearly, their hooves have not been trimmed in ages as well. Do I think Mike's a bad guy? No, he's a cattle farmer with a very different view of animals than I have. During our visit, he was warm and funny. Downright hospitable. He invited Stella and I to go up to the house, told us stories of his triplet grand-daughters and his rescued border collie dogs. He also humanely raises grass-fed beef and sells it (and donates some) locally. People are complicated and I understand that. However, we needed to get this little jack out of the situation promptly.





We raced back up to our place, with a stop at Tractor Supply for a solar-powered electric fence unit (a must-have to keep our mare and jack from making mule-babies) and prepared for his arrival.


















Tonight, he's sleeping in a cozy stall with adjoining paddock (first time he's had shelter) and will be fully vetted and gelded next week. He's absolutely ADORABLE. And almost feral. But I'm sure he'll make a wonderful companion to Sue (who is going bonkers with excitement at his arrival) and a great family pet with time and love. Mike is relieved of his ass problem and we have an adorable new family member.








WIN-WIN.