MONDAYS MUSINGS—THE MAGIC OF LOVE

Snuggled in my covers in between sleep and awake, I try to identify the sounds. Rain? Whatever. It’s not even eight-o-clock! I burrow deeper under the down comforter and reached for sleep only to be roused not more than twenty minutes later by gravel being thrown at my window.

Wait, gravel? What the hell?

Not gravel. Ice pellets. I pull the pillow up over my head. Doesn't matter. I can still hear old man winter whistling a discordant tune through the windows while scraping his fingers through the last of the leaves on the oak trees. His nasty little sprites, armed with machine guns, are shooting the side the house and windows reminding me that I forgot to lower the storm windows. Again.

Arrgh! I’m cursed this morning. So much for sleeping in.

I grumble as I pull on jeans and heavy socks and rummaged through my winter drawer for my Packers sweatshirt, which I drag over my thermal tee shirt. At least I was warming up. I forgot to turn on the heat the night before so the house was cold. Who thinks about turning on the heat when it’s sunny, warm, and 63 degrees? God bless central heat and coffee. J

I watch the horses through the window as they stomp their feet and blow fog sculptures. They’re waiting for hay. Funny how they know it’s the weather for hay and grain. Yesterday they watched as I offloaded bales of hay with mild interest but went back to grazing. Of course I was sweating like a pig yesterday in shirtsleeves as I worked insulating pipes, leveling and filling the water troughs, unloading the grain and dog food.

No sunshine this morning, just a whistling north wind, dirty cotton clouds and piles of white pellets.

I’m prevaricating. It’s frickin’ cold out there. The temps are still falling. I really don’t want to go outside but my babies are waiting for me. …fresh hay has to be put into the cat’s sleeping boxes and Rex’s new doghouse. We did a pretty good job with that despite not having a floor. Rex hates a floor in his doghouse. He’d rather dig a burrow in the dirt. Still needs a good layer of hay for insulation.

I set the cup down and reach for my wool scarf and gloves and pull on my coat. I stomp my feet into boots I haven’t worn since last February, grab my leather work gloves and head out the door. 

The horses rumble good morning and Sassy, me darlin’ is in fine form this morning arching her gorgeous neck, prancing along the fence line as I head to storage area of the work garage.  Sweet Tea is her usual bitchy self when food is brought out. Mine, all mine. Doctari is dignified and patient. Sassy knows I’ll feed her last and she lays her head on my shoulder and wuffles the edge of my stocking cap. I know what’s coming. She hates my winter caps. 5, 4, 3, 2, there it goes…plop and catches on the fence and she buries her nose in my hair. Damn horse. She makes me laugh and I soak up her love and affection. With a final hug I give her portion of hay.

I work my way through my list. At least it’s a relatively short list. My pride of cats bears me company as I work. A welcome comfort.

My final chore is Rex.  The pride follow me his area. They don’t mind Rex. He’s gentle with them. He sits close at hand, tongue lolling to the side, as he watches while I unload the hay and spread it in his nest. We have a pact you see. He sits patiently, sort of, while I lay the hay. I step back and gesture to the hay and he’s in the house pawing the hay this way and that until he has it arranged just so. Is he done? No. Next, he uses his nose and fine tunes the arrangement, lays down and wiggles around, then gets up again and noses it some more. I stand by grinning while he works. Several of the cats drape themselves along the roof of his house as he works and Jag is on the fence post by my shoulder. Sassy is finished eating and comes over to watch. I lean against her chest as she drops her head on my shoulder. She has such a soft nose. Rex bounds out of the house and back to me wagging his body in thanks. Sassy snorts but doesn't move away. Of course, it must be Pride approved. Couple of the cats jump down and look inside. Rex allows it.

I didn't want to come outside this morning. Cursed because I had to crawl out of a warm bed. It’s wicked cold. I’m already tired. My nose and the tips of my ears are about frozen solid. So why am I still standing here?

It’s the blessing, you see.

Love is a blessing. There is richness in love given and received. It doesn't matter whether that love is from two legged or four legged personalities. It’s something precious.

I close my eyes and give thanks for the blessings in my life. For the life I have today. For the love that surrounds me.

Something soft brushes my face. I open my eyes to big fluffy snowflakes softly falling around me. I feel like I’m floating in the snowfall. It’s beautiful. There is a hush to falling snow. A feeling of benediction. It’s magical.

I’m loved and life is good.

What IS It With Males?

I grew up with a houseful of testosterone running amok. Estrogen based creatures were in the minority, so you’d think I would know how to handle it all with ease.


Most of the time I do.


It doesn’t matter whether it’s two or four legged males; there are certain patterns that come to the fore in certain circumstances. Regardless of my years around two and four legged males, or how much *understanding I have of them; there are days they still drive me crazy.


Today was one of those days.


Sunday is usually a peaceful, kick back day. First battle was with my son wanting to borrow the car and the reminder regarding chores came first. And then hubs and using his wimpy little push mower rather than the nice heavy duty-riding mower we have. Wimpy broke. We got all that settled. Well, I believe I suggested dunking their heads under the hose to cool off before coming back into the house.


Peace resumed.


Until the new horse arrived.

That would be the gelding (a male) that wasn’t supposed to be delivered until next week, when we had the holding pasture cut and ready for him. I should add that this is not my horse. Very close friend owns it, Daniel (a male), who has been dying to get a horse to ride again and I said he could keep it here. So I’m just taking out the biscuits from the oven when my girlfriend, his wife, calls and says they’re on the way with the horse.


Say WHAT? Please tell me you’re kidding? She’s not. Apparently the former owner (yep, another male) had to deliver another horse in my area so he decided this was the time to kill two birds with one stone. And me in the process.

Great. I have three horses, a proud cut gelding, Doctari, and two mares. This is Doctari’s herd. They’ve all carved out a certain hierarchy. Bringing in a new animal, whether horse, cat, or dog, there is a time of adjustment and that means I have to be there.


Outside.


Several hours, in fact, facilitating this new member’s introduction to my herd.


Daniel keeps telling me Diamond is a well-mannered gelding used to being around a herd and subordinate to a dominant male. I keep telling him, it’s not Diamond I’m concerned about, it’s Doctari, and my lead mare, Sweet Tea (who can be a nasty beeotch when she wants to be and should not have Sweet in anyway attached to her name).


We walk Diamond around on a lead in the pasture for a while. Proud arching of necks and nose sniffing ensues. Things are going well. This what I call the honeymoon period. Well, it was a short honeymoon. We let Diamond off lead. More sniffing. Sweet Tea takes exception to something Diamond does and kicks. Grrr. Doctari, of course, is concerned and comes closer to investigate. Nothing happens. They all head off to the oak in the pasture. Sweet Tea is being bitchy about this interloper. Doctari circles around and comes between them.

• “Oh look, Doctari is protecting Diamond,” Daniel says.

• I’m watching all this. I shake my head as Doctari again weaved between Diamond and the mares. “He’s not protecting Diamond, Daniel, he’s keeping his mares away from Diamond. Big difference. This is gonna get tricky, my friend.”

So long as Diamond kept his distance, all was well. But he’s young, not quite three. As soon as he tried to join the herd, Doctari would run him off. By now, I’m concerned because I’m watching how Doctari is moving and he’s run Diamond close to the fence a couple of times. Sweet Tea is instigating trouble and Doc disciplines her, and we have squealing and nipping as Doctari rounds up his mares drives them back to the oak. He’s now on guard between the mares and Diamond. I know trouble is brewing when Doctari comes to a stop on a small incline in the pasture. He’s turned to the side so he looks huge and his head is up, nostrils flared, he strikes the ground with his hoof. He’s watching Diamond slowly come back up the hill on the other side of the pasture (where Doctari chased him).


There is something very chilling about a challenging bugle of a male horse. The earth vibrates when Doctari takes off after Diamond again and this time I know there will be a fight. It doesn’t help that the mares don’t stay put but gallop behind him.

• “Oh sh!t, this is bad, Daniel. Diamond is going to go over the fence.”

• “Nah, he’ll get free.”

• "I'm tellin' you..."

Both of us are running to the other fence in the yard so we can see what’s happening. I watch as Diamond tries to break free from them and attempts to retreat to the center pasture but Sweet Tea cuts him off. Through the tall brush and grass I hear them and watch, helpless as Diamond tumbles head first over the fence and into the next field. I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding as Diamond gets up and shakes himself. He wastes no time putting the field between him and Doctari. I can tell he’s hurt but from this distance, I can’t tell where or how. I’m relieved to see him cantor across the field.


Daniel goes over the fence with Diamond’s lead, I run for the truck. My concern is the pasture borders the creek and there is a section where the fence is out. I don’t need him going through the creek and into the next pasture.


Daniel is coming through the pasture and I drive the truck to the other end. Diamond is literally at the furthest point in the pasture from the home pasture. That big pasture is close to a hundred acres and belongs to my neighbor. I call to Diamond and start talking to him, cajoling and praising him when he comes to me. I have no lead rope but he comes. I can see he’s bleeding where his chest caught the fence as he tumbled. Some blood is on his front legs as well. Great.


As he gets closer, I see the bleeding stripes against his chest. Nothing looks very deep but I won’t know for sure until I get him back to the house. Daniel has arrived now and I can see Daniel’s worried, but he gets the lead on Diamond and walks him. He’s moving smooth, no limping and that’s good. We get him to the house and wash him off, just scratches and nothing deep. No swelling.

My Danes are barking because there is a horse in the yard and not in the pasture, where they belong. Diamond is spooked a bit, but he’s a plucky thing. I think he knows they’re in pens. Once we have him calmed again it’s time to walk the gauntlet through the pasture. This time, the pasture is MINE, by god. Doctari was reminded and so was Miss Pain In the Arse, Sweet Tea that I’m the alpha queen. Needless to say, they backed off and behaved.


Diamond is in the barn and in a stall. Where he will stay until the holding pasture is ready.


Tomorrow is another day.

Picture 1: Doctari
Picture 2: Sassy
Picture 2: Sweet Tea and Doctari