Is it possible to actually catch up?

I always think, "If I can just get caught up, then life will be so much easier."

I am starting to think this is delusional thinking.

A game I play with the voice in my head?

Obviously it hasn't happened yet.

Am I just fooling myself?

Is it even a realistic possibility?  

I spend most of my life flying by the seat of my pants.  It's frustrating and totally self-inflicted, but it is my reality.  I spent all last week trying to recover from my camping trip.  Running around in the cold, stacking up bales of straw to protect my bees from the cold that has infiltrated my world much earlier than usual this season.

Side note:  Going to blame the early cold on my new Canadian Friend.  You see, I enjoy my relationship with her, but I've come to realize the problem with making friends with Canadians...they're really nice people.  Nice people want to share. It's the number one rule of being a nice person.  Sharing!  Please stop!  Our averages for this time of the year, highs in the 60's and lows in the 40's.  It snowed here last night.  Love ya, but really, I'm good!

In my hectic world, I find it best to get geared up for big events.  The best way to gear up?  Take a day off!  Rest.  Relax. Mentally prepare.  My problem, it never fails when I get in the mood to shut-down my world, like I did yesterday, something happens.

I started my day with a large box of donuts.  Don't judge me.  Well, go ahead.  It's fine.

A photo posted by bee wrangler (@bee_wrangler) on Nov 11, 2014 at 9:07am PST

My intentions, to eat as many as I could, then take a sugar-coma induced nap!  Followed in the evening by a nice cup of hot tea and to sleep like a baby all night!

The donuts thing completely happened.

Then, I countered the sugar-coma with a lot of coffee because I found a horse in the barn with a mild belly ache.  Horses with belly aches are a big concern when we suffer drastic weather changes.  I don't know if it's the change in barometric pressure, or temperatures, or what, but it's a huge concern for every horse owner.  Their environment changes and their habits change.  Either they spend more time in the barns, or they drink less water due to the cold, or they are just finicky creatures.  I don't know.  My neighbor just experienced the same thing the other night.  Unfortunately it was devastating for them.  After having a veterinarian out and spending all night with a sick horse, they ended up at the vet clinic the next day with out any success.  The animal had to be put down, and now there's a man grieving the loss of a good horse.  A tragedy that left us all sad, while reminding us about the realities of these fragile animals.

I have been hauling warm water to the barn for the horses to drink since the cold snap hit last Tuesday.  A chore I don't mind, but I do feel my arms get longer every winter.  My mare tends to be the more fragile of the two standing out there, so I have been pleased with the amount of water she has been drinking.  Saturday night had been damp, drizzly, and cold.  The winds had switched around to the south, but the dampness just made it feel colder.  I had been able to let her out earlier in the day.  Then another cold front moved through and the winds were back out of the north.  I had decided with the pastures wet from the night before, I'd leave the horses in for the day.  I ran to the barn to throw hay and dump water before I headed out to fulfill my need of sugar and bread.

All was good.

After consuming large amounts of junk food, I proceeded to goof around on the Internet for a bit.  Longing for a nap, I decided to head to the barn with water and to drop more hay before crashing out for the afternoon.  My grand ideas of sweats, a cozy blanket, curling up with my dog, and drifting off into a Utopian dreamland vanished!

My mare had been laying down and she had not finished her breakfast.

I gave her the once over.  Checking her gums for color - still pink.  Checking her sides for signs of pain and discomfort.  She has done this to me plenty of times before, and if her sides are drawn up tight, I know I'm in real trouble.  She seemed to be okay in this area.  I listened for gut sounds, still hearing light sounds, but not the usual amount of action one would hope for.  I cleaned her stall, looking for fresh poop.  Gross, but always a necessary inspection process.  I moved to her brother's stall, but kept an eye on her.  She was pacing a bit with her discomfort.  Trying to decide what to do, I made the decision to gamble and go with my gut feeling.  I was hoping I caught this at the beginning, and could possibly head it off before having to call the veterinarian out for an emergency call.

I ran to the house, informed the Man in Charge of my discovery, grabbed a shot of pain medication, and ran back to the barn.  I gave her the shot and waited for it to hit her.  Within about 15 minutes she was starting to relax a bit.

At the same time it started sleeting outside.

I know from past experience with this horse, the key is to keep her calm and comfortable.  The shot seemed to be accomplishing my goal.  I had removed all of her hay, and within minutes of the medication relieving her discomfort, she started looking around her stall for scraps.

My next decision was the big gamble.

1. Go gear up with every winter item I own and get her out of the barn and start walking her?  
2. Or, just see if I could get her to drink water and stay calm? 

I was leaning more towards #2!

This started the long, miserable process of running to the barn every thirty minutes to check on her.  If I found her laying down at any point, I would immediately call the veterinarian.  The first check, no evidence of laying down and she had drank a bit of water.  The second visit, a fresh poop.  The third visit, she drank more water and tried to bite the crap out of me!

Her brother was eating hay.

She was not.

This did not sit well with her.

I did this until midnight last night.  She managed to drink a five gallon bucket of water and take a few poops.  Each trip a little scarier for me.  The downside to this plan of action:

• Pain medication wearing off.
• Finding I had just delayed the inevitable.
• Calling the veterinarian for an emergency call.
• Walking my horse in the sleet/snow.
• Spending the night in the barn with freezing cold temperatures.

I am happy to report, this gamble paid off!  

I love it when that happens!

I caught it early enough to head off a big problem.  She seems to be doing fine this morning, and she's much happier now that she's getting a little hay.  I, on the other hand, not doing so well.  I've been gulping coffee at an absurd rate.  Yes, gulping!  No pinkies raised here.  Two hands, grasping a mug of coffee like it's my only chance of survival!  

I've managed the daunting task of making a list for the week.  Having to come to terms with the reality of my situation. Thanksgiving is right around the corner.  All the projects I hoped to accomplish before opening my home for this holiday have been firmly placed on the chopping block.  Ten years ago, I would have started remodeling the kitchen without hesitating.  The present day version of myself is much more pragmatic about what can actually be accomplished.

As if an upcoming holiday isn't enough to add to the burdens of being one step behind on my to-do list, add another weather change.  The forecast is calling for a warm up.  Another change for the animals in my world to endure.  Plus, a golden opportunity to knock out some bee chores before the next blast of cold hits us from the north.

So stay tuned.

It's going to be another jam packed week!

Sometimes you reach a point...then have to choose a direction.

Going to let you guys in on a little secret.  

I'm trusting you to keep this just between us.  

We're friends, right?

The name of my farm is CrossRoad Farm.

The little slogan I do my best to tag on everything... 

"Sometimes you reach a point...then have to choose a direction."

It has been with me my whole life.

At first glance, you may think my property is located at a crossroads.  Not hardly.  Or, located in Crossroads, Texas?  Not even close.  When I originally came up with this name, I lived at the end of a long, winding road, on a cul-de-sac.  At present, my property is located on a regular street.  I'm not at the end.  I'm not in the middle.  Just the second house down on the left.  It has never been about location.  It has always been about a state of mind.

Where am I?  
Who am I?
What's happening in my life?  
Where do I want to go?  
How do I want to get there?  
Who do I want to take along for the ride?  
Who am I kicking out of the truck?

It has always been about food to some extent.  I've had a passion for organic gardening since the beginning.  After planting the first seed, and enduring the challenges of nature, organic or natural gardening has been important to me.  My first challenge came when ants took up residence in my garden.  I did what most do.  I went to the store to get some ant killer. Ants can be mean, and I wanted them gone.  The problem came when I started reading the labels.

Ha!  My label reading affliction started long ago!  

I couldn't find anything that I wanted near my food, or the food I wanted to feed my children.  I was also going through a lot of bad stuff in my life.  Bad relationships.  Bad self-image.  Bad decision making.

The name just grew out of the dysfunction.

I wanted to start my own organic farm all the way back in the late 90's.  I was a member of the Texas Organic Grower's Association.  I subscribed to a ton of publications, like Acres, USA.  I even went to an organic gardening convention in Austin Texas.  It was a dream.  Then, life happened.  Jobs changed.  Relationships changed.  A plague of grasshoppers moved in.  I had to make decisions for my family.  My dream was moved to the back burner, and life moved front and center.  I'm not complaining.  I just had to do what I had to do.

Fast-forward to the beginning of this blog.  Completely different life.  Completely different relationships.  Completely different goals.  Completely different location.  Same dream.  Trying not to disrupt everyone's life in my household, I started small.  I had fun.  Crazy things happened.  Then, a drought and a second plague of grasshoppers that tried to rival the first I'd seen.  When out of the chaos, a new love happened.  My bees!  I really do love my bees.  It was unsuspecting.  It was challenging.  It's very rewarding.  Even though it's crazy hard at times, I love it.  I also love honey, and I feel very good about the crop I produce.

Yet, I'm still standing at that same CrossRoad!

A lot of things have changed in my life.  Life does that.  The only constant is change.  Whether you refuse to see it, and the world is changing around you.  Or, you grab on to it, and see where it takes you.  There is, and always will be CHANGE. There is change ahead.  I can feel it.  I can smell it.  I can even taste it a little.  I don't know what it is, and because I am controlling by nature, it frustrates me a little.  I like to have a plan.  I like to have a direction.  I don't like standing in the middle of a CrossRoad waiting to figure it out, but I am.  I'm just hanging out in the middle of the road.  Looking from one direction to the next.  Turning in a circle.  Trying to decide which path is the right one.

The facts are, I don't have enough information at this point to choose.

I've been here for a while.  Trying to define myself.  Trying to consolidate who I am.  Trying to wrap it all up in a pretty package.  I think this partly explains why I have been neglecting this blog.  I know I've been busy, but really, I've just been undecided.  I've been trying to define this space.  Trying to understand who I am and what I want to put out there about myself.  I don't have those answers, and I finally understand why.

I don't fit inside a pretty little package! 

I can not be wrapped up in paper with a pretty bow on top.  It doesn't work.  You can't shove me inside a gift bag with tissue paper either.  I'm that annoying present that can't be wrapped in a manner to make a presentable gift.  There is not a box I fit in, and even if you find a box large enough, it will be one larger than the paper is wide.  You're going to have to use two sheets to cover all the sides.  There's not enough ribbon to cover all the seams and hide the truth.

Not going to happen!

Today, of all days, this is finally okay with me.  I can't define, or redefine, this blog.  This blog is about me.  I'm a retired stay-at-home mom.  I'm an empty-nester.  I'm a wife.  I'm a Christian.  I'm a sinner.  I'm a gardener.  I'm a beekeeper.  I'm a do-it-your-selfer.  I'm a horse owner.  I'm a dog lover.  I'm a cat lover.  I'm the egg lady.  I'm the bee lady.  I'm a city girl. I'm a country girl.  I'm a rebel.

I'm all over the place!

If you come here to learn about bees?  Keep coming.  You'll learn a thing or two.  If you really want to learn about bees? Contact me.  I teach beekeeping.  If you want to learn about gardening?  You're going to have to dig in the archives.  We've had terrible weather and it has not been successful for a long time.  If you want to talk about raising kids?  I know a thing or two.  Shoot!  I'll do my best to answer.  If you want to read crazy stories that give you a little insight into who I am?  Check back daily.  You never know what you'll find.  I don't fit into a category, and today, I'm no longer going to try.

Oddly, I'm breathing a little easier.  

Now I feel better.

So...It's been a while.

I actually logged on earlier today, and as my finger tips hovered above the keyboard, the only words that came to mind were...

This blog is gasping for its last breath.
Death is knocking on the door.
What do I do?
Do I start C.P.R.?
or...
Do I just start digging a hole and put it out of its misery.

There I sat.  Those were the words running through my mind.  It seemed dark and gloomy.  It seemed like a huge decision.  Why such a hard choice?  If it were a friend, I wouldn't even hesitate.  I'd be breaking some ribs to get you breathing again.  I'd be screaming for help.  I'd be calling 911.  The fact that I sat there, undecided, unsure of what to do, was startling.  In the end, as you can probably guess, I just closed the post and logged out, without doing a single thing.

This gap in blogging is a yearly event for me.  Usually, at some point during the summer, I drop out.  Check the archives if you don't believe me.  June.  July.  August.  These are the months that I seem to shut down.  It is hot.  I'm usually running out of steam, and I mentally check out.  Nothing too unusual.  I am at least consistent in being inconsistent, but I've never thought of putting an end to it.

Why now?

I really don't have an answer.  So...

*knock, knock, knock*

If anybody is out there, I'm open for any thoughts.

Oddly enough, I am sitting here at 2:00 in the morning, spilling the ugly truth.  The truth about almost pulling the plug on this thing.  Admitting that I considered it, but glad that I didn't.

It's been a busy season.  The bees have been busy and we are getting ready to harvest our honey at the end of this week.  I'm excited, worried, and weary - all at the same time!  I have invested a lot of time and money this year, and now we see if it is all worth it.

I have really been trying to conserve my energy over the last couple of weeks, which is code for:  I have been super lazy!  Some might say I've become a hermit of sorts.  I shut down all of my extra curricular activities, and have thrown away my social calendar.  Instead, I have watched endless hours of movies and television.  Nothing educational - just pure entertainment!  I'm not really sure why, or if this will become a new summer trend for me, but over the last few weeks it's been kind of nice.

Now, as harvest is nearing, and the endless list of projects I've been neglecting are piling up, I have been trying to shake it off.  It has not been easy.  Then, helping a friend load a lawn mower, I tweaked my back a little.

Not Good!

This put me right back in front of the television over the 4th of July holiday weekend.  I didn't really complain much, and the rest seemed to help ease my back pain a little.  Now with harvest day looming, I only put a few things on the list this week.

1.  Mow the yard.
2.  Weed eat the yard.
3.  Laundry.
4.  Clean the house.

These are not major tasks.  Actually, they are very common tasks.  They go along with the list of unwritten chores.

1.  Clean the barn.
2.  Chickens.
3.  Food.
4.  Errands.

I mowed the yard on Monday, and my back started hurting again.  This prevented me from picking up the weed trimmer.  I started the laundry today, and then headed out to run a few errands.  One of which was a stop at my chiropractor.  Unfortunately, he took an extended holiday and won't be in until Wednesday.  Trying to stay optimistic, I decided to meet up with some friends for dinner.  We have a regular Tuesday night date, and I have skipped out on the last four or five Tuesdays.  I had fun, and it was a relief to get back to something normal.  Then, on my way in, instead of running to the barn and taking care of those chores, I decided to watch a little more television with my Part-timer first.  This put me out at the barn at 11:30.

Where I found a horse in trouble!

Why did I wait?

I could have found this at 9:00!

I headed to the house to drag the Man in Charge out of bed.  Thankfully, he was not asleep yet.  Then, I drug me veterinarian out of bed at midnight.  He was asleep!  It usually makes me really feel bad to have to make those late night calls, but tonight, as we stood in a hot barn - sweating!  The thought occurred to me, my veterinarian was at least getting paid.

Our diagnosis - a horse with a mild colic and a sore leg?  We treated the colic, and we are still unsure about the leg.  It is a wait-and-see game at this point.  Now you know why I am writing you at 2:00 in the morning.  I checked on her at 3:00, and she is still resting comfortably.  My next check will be 5:00 in the morning.  I am happy to report, I have been doing laundry and trying to make the most of it.

Other than that- I've got nothing!

The Real Story...

Okay - Girls and Boys!  If you follow along at all, you know we had a small contest.  It was an exercise in imagination.  I posted several pictures and asked you to come up with the story.  The day you were describing was a really long day.  From time-to-time, it gets crazy around here.  So crazy I don't believe everything that happens.  Which is really crazy because I am here, and I walk each and every step.  I told you I would give you the full story, and here it is.

Ladies - there is going to be some terminology that is going to bore you to death.  Things like:  splice, vice-grips, channel locks, threaded fittings, Tephlon tape...just skip over that.  I am only putting it in here because I know a few boys that will be reading, and going, "Yep.  That's what you do.  That's how it goes.  Yes.  You have to have that."

To be fair, let's start the day before.  It started off wonderfully.  You can catch up on the events.  Go ahead. I'll wait.

Click HERE - Man It's Cold Out There!

After having an awesome start to the day, it turned ugly on me very quickly.

My barn cat, Kid - Billy the Kid,  has decided that he wants to be a house cat.  He has taken over the mud room.  He spends his time in deep, coma-like naps or teasing the dog under the door.  He does everything very innocently.  I mean, just look at him.

At some point on Tuesday, he started feeling bad.  He left a few things on every, single rug in the mud room and had stopped eating.  I just assumed he ate something that did not agree with him, and he would work it out.  I was not too concerned because I know what he eats and I believe he has an iron stomach.  I feed him Fancy Feast and Cat Lover's Soup for the Soul cat food.  He supplements his diet with the heads of many things.  I know this because he leaves me little decapitated bodies around the barn.

Nasty.

Because Kid was not feeling well, he had spent the day running in and out.  One minute he meowed to go out.  The next he meowed to come in.  It was back and forth.  He finally went out and just disappeared.  I thought he probably went to one of his usual spots to take a nap.

I was trying to wind up a very busy day.  I was in the process of cooking some bone broth.

click HERE to find out why - excluding #4

I was also in the process of trying out a new soup recipe for dinner.

Curried Cream of Broccoli Soup

(I reduced the curry to about 1 tsp in this recipe.  I am not a huge fan of curry, but it was okay.)

So with pots full of liquids on the stove, the Man in Charge came in from his day with a scared look on his face.

What's for dinner?

We talked for a few minutes about our day.  Then, I told him to keep an eye on things because I wanted to go outside and find the cat before it got really dark.  I knew it was going to be really cold and I didn't want him sick and freezing outside.  Plus, if he felt really bad, I was certain he would stay hunkered down where ever he was, and I did not want to be wondering around late at night looking for him.

On my way across the back yard, I noticed something on the other side of the creek.  It was Deuce.  He was laying down.  He was upright, but down and that is not typical.  I switched gears from the cat to the horse and made my way across the creek.  He stayed down until I got over there.  Then he popped up and stood in place until I reached him.  I asked him what he was doing.  He looked at me.  I told him we didn't have time for any messing around and he should get back to the barn so I could keep an eye on him.

He blazed a trail to the barn.  Running ahead of me.  Then, turned and waited for me to get there.

I closed the pen outside of the barn and turned on the lights so I could see him from the house.  My plan was to keep an eye on him while I finished dinner.  I opened the door to his stall, and before I could get out of there, he went inside his stall and dropped down.

Crap.

Deuce has not had a bout of colic.  Not once in his entire life.  This looked like colic.  He had a look on his face like he didn't understand what was happening.  He kept looking at his sides.  His belly was hurting, and he did not know what to do about  it.  This was new to him.

I ran inside.  Turned off the soup.  Grabbed the Man in Charge and our evening began.  As you read, it was after 10:00 when the vet left.  My horse was resting comfortably.  He had been sedated.  Given pain medication.  A tube had been run up his nose, down to his belly, and we had pumped him full of mineral oil. The only thing left to do - wait!

And go eat!

My Full-timer had come home, and in the madness, finished dinner for me.  I said I wasn't a fan of curry, but I was hungry.  I ate, and it was good.  It was warm.  That was important.  I probably won't ever make the soup again.  If I did, I wouldn't put curry in it.

We took a short break, and then the Man in Charge headed back to the barn to check on our guy.  This was when we realized our other horse was not feeling well.  She started trying to go down in her stall.  We called the vet.  Luckily, I had enough medication on hand to get her under control.  We were just hoping that we did not need to pump her full of mineral oil.

I can do a lot of things.

Tubing a horse with mineral oil - not one of them.

I want to learn...but not on my own horses.

Is that rude?

You see, if you take a wrong turn going down and end up in the lungs, dead horse.

Well, we had several discussions that night regarding what could be causing our problem.

One horse with colic - unfortunate.
Two horses with colic - environmental.

Going to bed at 3:30 in the morning, fully dressed, does not promote restful sleeping.  I flew out of bed the next morning and ran to the barn to make sure everyone was still standing.  Laying eyes on them, and sighing with relief, I had a busy day ahead of me.  My first plan of action was to go to the feed store and buy some shavings that were not cheap and not dusty.  The dust in our barn had reached epidemic proportions.  While I would have bet you the dust would have caused respiratory issues instead of colic issues, I wanted to get it ruled out as a possible trigger.  The stalls were dusty.  The hay was dusty.  Their water was constantly getting dirty.  Everything was dry.  Possibly this was part of our problem.  It was certainly something that both horses have in common.  Their feed diets are completely different, but as a precaution, I have removed all processed feeds.

Hay Only!

I knew that my Full-timer was going to need my truck that day.  So I ran through the shower and headed out to the feed store early.  Running to the truck was when I noticed this:

The white ribbon you see whipping around in the breeze is electric fence tape.  No, it does not hold anything together.  It is a nylon strip that has wire running through it.  It is used in electric fencing (especially for horses) because it is highly visible.  This photo is along the back fence line of our pasture.  You see, my horses live on the right.  My neighbors horses live on the left.  I have a stallion.  They have two mares.  One of their mares is really young, and she likes my stallion.  She vocalizes her admiration often.  This makes it necessary to put a little distance between them.  He is a good horse, and he has never been bred, but we all have our limits.  This fencing has been taking a beating.  I didn't realize how much so, but the wind has switched from north to south and back again, at 30, 40, 50 mph, repeatedly this winter.  It just simply ripped in two pieces.

Now, I had a mental list of my own things to do on this morning - this was not one of them.  On this particular day, the wind was cruising above 25 mph with gusts over 35 mph.  I ran to the feed store and grabbed what I needed for the day.  I came back and unloaded my truck before my Full-timer needed to leave.  Then, I put on my coveralls and all my gear and headed to the back of the property to address this mess.

When was the last time you had a good game of tug-of-war?

This fence tape is only two inches wide.  At 30 mph, it was whipping me around like a rag doll.  That stuff was blowing over the neighbors fencing.  Their horses were freaking out.  They were doing their best to stay as far away as possible, and I could understand why.  Once I laid hands on it, I was a little scared.  I gathered the pieces together, and quickly saw the problem.  Then, I quickly assessed my capabilities of dealing with this alone.  Zero.  There was not a single thing I could do to fix this.  It was not humanly possible to get this stuff put back in place and then pull it together to splice it.

Not happening.

My next plan was to try and gather each end up, then tie it down somehow.  This would keep it from blowing across the fence and causing issues for anyone else.  I would have to enlist a lot of help to get this fixed, and it would not be on a windy day.  Sorry to disappoint some of you.  I know you have been holding your breath, waiting for me to get to the part where I zapped myself on the electric fence.  I was awake enough to turn the fence off before I started.

I finally managed to get everything under control, but it took up a lot of my morning.  With the fence tied down, I headed back across the creek to the barns.  The first task on my list - repair the water leak in the chicken barn.  You see, I raised about 30 guineas and at some point they decided to peck all the insulation off of the water spigot inside the barn.

I do not know why.

Then, during one of our many freezing nights, the pipe busted.

See.
Insulation at the top.
Insulation at the bottom.  
Nothing in the middle.

Okay.  So, it didn't help that I must have turned the red valve off, turned the water off to the barn, and did not drain the water between the valve and the actual spigot.

Ugh.

It doesn't matter who's fault it is.  I needed water.  I was going to have to fix it to get the water back on to both barns.  My goal was to strip the stalls in the horse barn and get as much of the dust out of there as I could.  Water was a necessity.

To start, I cut the pipe just below the red valve.  Then I cut the pipe just below the spigot.  Then, I grabbed a coupling I had from previous repairs and glued the thing back together.  For some reason, I was so confident this would solve my problem, I re-wrapped the whole thing with insulation before turning the water on, and testing it out.

My spigot was leaking on the top.

I ran back and shut the water off.  Not to worry, though.  I was not going to let this beat me.  (Sorry.  There are no pictures of the first repair.)  My next plan - unwrap everything and cut the spigot off the top of the pipe.

This is when the search began.

What parts could I find to repair this thing?  After searching through more fittings than any one person should have, I found a valve and a 90 degree fitting.  If you look closely, you will see that this is a gas valve.  

Yes.  I knew this going in.  

I don't know why I had it.  I did not care.  It was on another fitting, and I had to get them apart before I could use it.  This involved a vice grip and some channel locks.  You will be proud to know that I had not used one curse word up to this point.  I had my headphones on.  I had my music on shuffle.

You would not believe the variety of music that I can listen to in one afternoon.

I was singing.
Out loud.
I did not care.

Some may look at my feeble attempts at repairing this leak as rigging things.  I prefer to look at it as MacGyvering things.

On a side-note:  Had I been MacGyver on this day, all I would have needed was a compass, a transistor radio, and a bag of fertilizer, and I would have just blown the whole thing up!

On a super-side-note:  Top Ten MacGyver tricks you can use in your everyday world.  Click HERE.

I know I am all over the place.  

Is everyone still with me?

Don't worry.

Do what you need to do to catch up.

I'll wait.

On with the plan...I removed the valve from the old fitting and found a threaded fitting that I could glue onto the 90.  Once assembled, and yes, I used Teflon tape, this is what I had.

Hard to tell from the photo, but the valve is doing it's job.  It is the threaded fitting behind it that is leaking.  I ran and grabbed the channel locks and tried to tighten it.  Each time, the stream shooting out of the pipe just switched locations.

I ran and shut the water off.

Again.

My next plan.  I cut the valve and the fitting off the pipe.  I went back and rummaged through all of the fittings again.  I did not have another valve.  I did not have another threaded fitting.  I found a cap.  I could just cap the line and put this project off for another day.  This would not solve my water problem in the chicken barn, but it would let me have water in the horse barn.

I went back to the barn.  I put primer on the pipe and on the cap.  I put glue on the pipe and on the cap.

The cap did not fit on the pipe. 

I may have muttered a word or two at this time.

I got up from the ground.  I walked around a bit.  I thought.  I went back and looked through all the fittings AGAIN!  I walked around a bit more.  Then something hit me like a post driver on the top of my head!

I have about five water hoses that are 50 feet or longer.  
I can easily get water - where ever I want it - from my house.

I put a piece of duct tape over the pipe to keep the dirt and debris out.  This could wait.

So stupid!

I grabbed all the garbage from my little repair endeavor, and headed to the other barn to get started on what was really important.

I still had a pretty good attitude.

Even though I had just lived through a serious blond moment!

Then, I looked up and saw this:

I am serious when I say the wind has been brutal.  It has been so abrasive and abusive and destructive. For about five seconds, I considered grabbing the ladder and the hammer.

Nah.

Instead, I headed to the house to drag some hoses out and put them together so I could have water in the barn.

Duh.

So stupid.

I put Deuce out in the pen.  Then started the daunting task of stripping his stall.  All of the dirty shavings went out to the pile.  The cleaner shavings went to the chicken coop.  No sense in wasting them.  I drug the hose inside the barn and sprayed the stall down several times during the process.  It didn't make much sense to stir up even more dust while trying to remove it.  Once the stall was empty, I sprayed it down and swept it out. It was a lot of dust.  I felt like I had eaten buckets of dirt.  I was coughing.  I was blowing my nose.  It was bad.

Even if this has zero bearing on the colic issue at hand - it needed to be done.

I washed his buckets.  I placed a huge rubber tub on the ground to keep any hay off the ground.  I gave him a 50 lb. salt block to encourage him to drink more water.  I put down four bags of the best smelling shavings I have used in a long time.  I mean, I worked.  I had the same to do in the other stall, and when that was all over, I drug all the hay in from the hay barn.  I was starting to run on fumes.  I stacked the hay.  I rummaged through every bit of tack we own until I found hay nets.  I used the hay nets to dunk their hay in water, in an attempt to rinse any dust from it before I gave it to them.  

I did every-single-thing I could think of to make sure they were eating clean food.

By this time, we were into the evening hour.  I had raked, sprayed, swept, cleaned, lifted, hauled, moved, glued, cut, stretched. pulled, you name it, and people were getting home and wanting something to eat.  Dinner had not been on my radar.  The Man in Charge made it home, and we met in the kitchen.  His first act, open the pantry and simultaneously ask,

What's for dinner?

Why are there sardines in here?

Who's eating that?

Why?

You're not eating that?

Are you going to sneak those into something we eat?

This made me start laughing.  You see.  A couple of night's before, I had gone shopping with my Full-timer.  I stopped on the canned meat isle.  She was talking about something, and I am certain she thought I was going to buy tuna when I said,

I suppose if you are going to eat sardines, skinless and boneless would be the way to go?

This freaked her out.  Rapid fire questioning:

Sar what?

Who's eating sardines?

Are you really going to eat that?

You're not trying to sneak something in our food are you?

Currently neither one of them believe I am going to eat sardines.

The sardines are still in the pantry.

I've got a quarter that says - both the Man in Charge and my Full-timer freak out when they notice the sardines are gone.

I was still laughing.  The Man in Charge was not laughing.  Then, he turned and noticed:

Remember the bone broth I had started?  Well, I forgot about it.  I guess I turned the burner off, but the pot was still sitting on the stove the next day.  Full of broth and bones.  I have to say, after sitting out all night and all day, not really smelling so great.  I had fished the bones out and rinsed them off.  My thought being that I would give them to the dogs.  Then I dumped the rest of it.  I thought about saving it, but then decided it was probably not worth it.

He was looking slightly horrified.

Then, when I said I needed to run to our local veterinarian's office, and I was thinking I would pick something up for dinner while I was out...everyone jumped on board!

Awesome Idea!

You've worked so hard today.

Ladies - there is a lesson in having sardines in the pantry!

Once the Man in Charge was relieved I wasn't going to try to feed him something gross for dinner, he asked the next question,

What are you going to the vet for?

Remember how this whole thing started?  Kid.  Not feeling well.  Well, he still didn't.  I had given him some Pepcid to calm his stomach down, but no luck.  I had smeared Vaseline on his paw in the event he had a hairball blockage.

I read that they lick the Vaseline off their paw and it lubes up the hairball.

This seemed like a good plan to me.  Due to his extra-curricular diet, he has hacked up some pretty nasty stuff in the past.  He did not like it at all.  The facts are, nothing was working.  He had not eaten for two days and he was starting to get pretty lethargic.  As tired as I was, if I hadn't been looking for the cat in the first place the other night, I would not have found my horse.  If I had not found my horse when I did, there is no telling how late we would have been up.  Not-to-mention, the longer the horse suffers, the worse things can get.  Besides, I have different vets for all these guys.  I might as well be sharing the wealth, right?

This is Kid.

Please note how muscular his thighs are.

The white, fluffy stuff in his abdomen is his small intestine.  If he were to have a blockage, it would have been there.

Whew.

Dodged a bullet.

The dark line in the center of his abdomen, is his large intestine.  My vet informed me that it was dark because it was either full of diarrhea or gas.  Impossible to tell by the film.  He checked his bladder (it is on there somewhere), and it was full, but felt fine.  He gave him two shots.  One to help calm his stomach.  The other to help with the pain.  His opinion, he should be fine in a couple of days or sooner.

We load this guy up in his carrier.  We put him in the truck.  We go across the street and grab dinner.  Then we head home.

One problem.

By the time we get home, Kid has relieved his bladder inside his carrier.  He was laying on a bed, but that just made it worse.  His whole belly was drenched in the foulest smelling urine.  He was a little wobbly and very sad.  We couldn't just leave him like that.  I grabbed my Full-timer and we devised a plan.

I started filling the sink in the bathroom with warm water and baby shampoo.  A little bubble bath, if you will. The plan -  I would grab him and hold him suspended over the sink.  My Full-timer would grab a cloth and wash his under side.  Then we would do our best to rinse him.  There was just one down-side running through my mind.  You know, beside the fact that we were going to bathe the cat.

That large intestine.

I looked my Full-timer dead in the eye.  The conversation went like this:

Me:  If this cat poops all over the place, I am going to throw up.

Her:  If you throw up, I'm going to throw up.

Me:  Well, we may have one heck of a mess to clean up by the time this is all over.

Being the brave little troopers that we are, we plunged right in.  I grabbed the cat.  She grabbed a hand towel.  She started bathing.  At precisely the same moment, Kid let loose with some really toxic gas.  Only I didn't know it was gas.  You see, at the exact same time the smell hit my nose, a rush of warm, wet, ran down my leg.

I flipped out.

I almost dropped the cat.

It took a few seconds before we all realized that my Full-timer had just been a little over-zealous in her washing, and had dumped warm, soapy water down my leg.  We laughed hysterically.  We finished with the cat.  We laughed more.  We dried the cat.  We were still laughing.  My sides hurt from laughing.  I can not express the exhaustion I was feeling by the end of this day.  I have never loved my bed more in my life.  The real crazy part - It's was just another day, like any other day.  

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The End.

Burr!

I think it is safe to say that most of us are cold today!  I know, some of you are cursing that dang ground hog, but I can't really do it.

It is cold.  

I am cold.  

I could go for some warm but...it's fine.

Does that make any sense?

I think part of my problem is the fact that the seed catalogs have been pouring in since December.  I usually find this super exciting.  I grab the mail and then immediately sit down with a pencil and start going over every single page.  This year is a little different for me.  For one, I have not turned back a single cover.  I have a nice stack of catalogs collecting on my desk, but the pages have not seen the light of day.  Then, the other day, I received a catalog with a Last Chance! notice on the cover.  They are removing me from their mailing list because it has been so long since I placed an order.  Rude! 

This sort of makes me sad.

You see, I want to open them.  I want to mark up the pages.  I want to make a list.  I want to place orders.  I want to start seeds.  I want to grow varieties that you will not find anywhere else!  I want to get my hands dirty.  I want to make my back hurt.  I want to grow more things than I can possibly eat.

But, I can't.

I mean...I could.

But...I can't!

If I were to do that, I would want to put together my greenhouse that is in a disassembled heap on the other side of my horse trailer.  Then, I would want to start building some new compost bins.  Then, I would want to build some raised beds.

Let's be real here people!

I am barely keeping the things I already have alive.  My horses are doing their best to die.  My dog's rehabilitation will span the next six months to a year.  I have new bees on order.  Plus, I have a couple of queens due to arrive this spring.  I have new boxes to build, seal, and paint!  I have a bazillion frames to assemble.  I have 4 pieces of furniture that I want to refurbish.  I have an entire house that needs a face lift.  I am in serious need of some landscaping.  I have chickens that require daily attention.

I have a lot to do!

I haven't successfully grown anything over the last couple of years.  With the drought and the plague of grasshoppers - I quit.  The fact that we have had a pretty cold winter is promising to me.  Really cold winters mean that a few more bugs have managed to die off.  This is good.  I just can't do it.  It doesn't help that the Man in Charge keeps telling me that my days here are numbered.  He has been telling me that since 2005, but what the hay?  It has meant that a lot of what I do is not permanent.  Temporary things are just what they sound like - temporary.  You do temporary for nine years and eventually it starts to wear on you.

It is the limbo.

I don't like it.

I don't do limbo well.

So.  Instead of browsing seed catalogs, I am going to take another course.  I am going to work on my house.  I am going to work on my flower beds.  I am going to grow my bees.  I am going to keep my horses alive.  I am going to rehab my dog.  I am going to keep letting my chickens run my life.  I am going to dress up some old furniture.  I am going to do all these things so that if I have to go - I am ready.  If at the end of those things, I am still here?  I am going to start doing things a little more permanently.

Don't be too sad for me.

I am already conning myself into sneaking a few edibles into the flower beds.

This is just the sucky part of being a grown up!  I have to tell myself N-O!

We Survived...

the weather, that is.

It is really cold and we did have some precipitation, but nothing debilitating.  This is good because I have enough things in my life that are doing their best to be debilitating.  Saturday was very busy.  I had to get caught up on some house hold chores. *yuck*  Plus, get a grip on what I was behind on.  This is what you have to do when a large part of your week is diverted to emergency duties.  No worries.  All is still possible and I managed to maintain a positive attitude.

My positive attitude had started first thing that morning.  This may seem trivial, unless you understand the seriousness of colic, because let me tell you, it is serious.  Horses in this world die from colic on a daily basis, but the fact that I rolled out of bed on Saturday morning and tore into a sprint for the barn should tell you something.  Upon arriving, gasping for air, I quickly celebrated the piles of poop both my horses had deposited in their stalls.  This made my morning start out something like this...

Most definitely, had you been present, you would have seen me bustin' a few of these very moves, right down the isle-way of my barn.  I danced on over to collect the rake.  Then, I danced on out to collect the wheel barrow.  Then, I danced back in and proceeded to scoop up every bit of poop like it was gold.

Money in my pocket!

After that, things got really crazy.  I cleaned.  I laundered.  I cooked.  I rearranged.  I made a ton of bee syrup.

Well, not a ton, but almost four gallons.  The problem with bee syrup.  You can not help from making a mess.  You end up with sugar on the floor.  Syrup all over the counter.  Syrup on the mixer.  Syrup on anything that touches anything.

Crazy.

I fully intended on reporting these facts to you on Sunday, but my day did not start out so good.  For one thing - COLD.  I put on my sweats, and then I pulled on my coveralls.  I headed out to the barn.  Did a little jig for poop!  Sorry, it may be a daily thing from now on.  Took care of the horses and proceeded to the chicken barn.  I had a heat lamp bulb out and I wanted to check their water and feed status.  It ended up not being just a bulb thing, but a light thing.  Not to worry, I had an extra light.  It was just a matter of getting it into place.  I filled feeders.  Water was good.  All I needed to do was gather eggs and head inside.

One problem - I forgot my egg basket.

This would normally not be a huge issue, but I had other things to carry as well.  Stopping to think about how bad an idea this was, I slowly started slipping eggs into my front pocket.  There seemed to be room, but my concern was with any possible bending that I may need to do.  As luck would have it, there were several times when I needed to bend at the waist.  Each time, holding my breath and moving very slowly, I bent.  Each time, doing my best to keep me leg as straight as possible on that side.  Each time, success!

No broken eggs! 

I made it all the way to the kitchen.  As I was explaining the above to my Full-timer, I was reaching in my pocket to retrieve said eggs.  The first one I grabbed busted.  In my shock, trying to keep my hand closed around the gooey mess that was exploding in my pocket, I couldn't get my closed fist out of my pocket.  This created a bit of a panic and more mess.  By the time I got the bulk of the broken egg out of my pocket, plus the other eggs, the yolk had soaked through to my sweats.

Dang it!

My coveralls went straight into the washer.

This did not ruin my day.

I managed to have a relaxing Sunday.

Fast forward to this morning...I roll out of bed.  I stumble to the laundry room to find my sweat pants from the previous morning.  My Full-timer was nice enough to wash them for me.  Then, I made my way to the kitchen to fill some buckets with warm water.  I wanted to take them with me to the barn.  I have been hauling buckets with each trip.  I noticed a large box of spinach on the table that had been meant to go to the chickens.  I had asked my Full-timer to carry it out there on one of her trips yesterday, but she looked at me all confused as to how she was supposed to carry two five gallon buckets of water and a box of spinach?  I told her to leave it - I would get it later.

Well...24 hours later and it was still there.  I grabbed my two five gallon buckets of water and made my way to the door.  Then I stopped, grabbing the box of spinach and tucking it under my arm.  Once I had it secured, I reached down and grabbed both my buckets.  I headed across the back yard.  As I approached the barn, I was thinking to myself that it really had not been hard to carry all of it.  I was already relishing in the fact that I was going to be able to brag a little when I got back to the house.  It was at precisely this moment that I hit a small patch of ice on a slight downward slope that leads to the door I wanted to enter.  I slid a little, staying up right.  Then - it all went haywire.  I was slipping and sliding and skidding - swinging my buckets wildly while trying to save every drop of water inside them - while squeezing my box of spinach under my left arm.  Without the box of spinach the whole adventure would be pointless.  By the time I finally came to a stop, I was on the ground, on one knee, other leg out in an attempt to do the splits like Bruno Mars during the Half-Time show!  I only had a half a bucket of water left.  I was wearing the other bucket and a half of water, but I was still holding my box of spinach.

I am still trying to decide if I count this as a success or failure.

Man It's Cold Out There.

I know all you northerners think we are big sissies down here, and you would be right.  I know there is no possible way I could survive a winter in the northern states.  I would go ballistic.  I do enjoy cold weather.  I like to wear cold weather clothes.  I like to make soup.  I like to snuggle under a blanket and read a good book or waste endless hours on the Internet.  Cold weather usually means extra chores where the animals are concerned, but I am just counting that as my work-out because I am not going to run in 8 degree temperatures.

Today started super early for me.  The Man in Charge had an early meeting.  He was out the door at 6:00.  I would normally just go back to sleep, but in the interest of working on self-improvement, I told him to leave the light on and I crawled out of bed.  I proceeded to brush my teeth, wipe the sleep from my eyes, and stumble down the hallway.  It isn't really a stumble so much as a hunched over walk.  It takes the length of the hallway before I am upright and walking some what normal.

What are ya' going to do?

I made my first stop at the coffee pot.  This thing must get going - PRONTO!  Once I had that underway, I realized I was hungry.  Not a usual feeling for myself, but in the interest of working on self-improvement, I know I need to start eating right, and start eating enough to give me the energy I need to do the stuff I need to get done.  I have a bad habit of not eating enough and then just relying on coffee to fill the gap.  It doesn't work.  I know it doesn't work, but I do it anyway.  The coffee just makes me dehydrated.  Being dehydrated just causes fatigue.  This is like being on the loop in a city you don't want to be in, and you keep missing your exit.

Funny.

I used to describe bad relationships the same way.

Being up at 6:00, realizing that I was hungry, realizing that I am an adult and I do have the ability to do something about that, I made a frittata.

A what?

Frittata or free-tah-tah or another word for an Italian, fancy-pants omelet.  But not really because it is more like a pie.  Almost like a quiche, but without the crust.

You get what I'm sayin'?

It is actually the second one that I have made in three days.  I don't know why I quit making them.  They are awesome.  They are easy.  They are full of good-for-me-things, and they don't make me feel like crap.  Plus, if you have chickens - you have eggs - you may as well be eating them.

Sorry...not meant to be a slam on non-chicken owners.  

Sometimes, I just get so focused on filling egg orders that I forget why I have chickens in the first place.

It was not to sell eggs.  It was to eat eggs.

You can google recipes.  I am sure there are a bazillion out there.  I have some basic rules for a frittata.

• meat (ground, shredded, chopped, cubed, whatever and better if from left overs)
• vegetables (fresh, frozen, roasted, whatever and better if from left overs)
• eggs (not left over)
• cream (could be regular, coconut, whatever floats your frittata)
• cheese (I don't normally use cheese, but it is your frittata, make it like you want it)

I take the meat, ground bison this morning and add it to an iron skillet with some fat and onion.

Butter, ghee, coconut oil - just use something that is not trying to kill you.

Then, I add my veggies, this morning I used a ton of fresh spinach (rough chopped).  

While that is wilting, warming, or whatever, I cracked 8 eggs in my mixer bowl.

I dumped in some coconut cream (about 1/2 cup - guessing) and commenced to whip the poo out of it.

Which just means I put the whisk attachment on my mixer and turned it on.

I evened the meat/veggie mixture out on the bottom of my skillet and poured my eggs over the top.

I let this sit on the burner (med/low) until the bottom was set, maybe five minutes.

Then I threw it in the oven at 350 degrees and let it cook about 15 minutes.

When it looked cooked (set), I turned the broiler on until the top was slightly browned.

Keep an eye on it!  You don't want to ruin what you just spent zero time making.

Pull that puppy out and slice it like a pie.

*yum*

Add salsa on top.

*super yum*

Skip ahead to current date and time...

I started writing this post about noon on Wednesday.  It is now after midnight and it is officially Thursday.  I had a pretty productive day.  I did laundry.  I vacuumed.  I cleaned the barn.  I hauled in hay.  I gathered eggs.  I fed chickens.  I gathered two chickens.  (They were stuck on the wrong side of the fence.)  I started dinner.  I went to look for my cat.  (He has not been feeling well.  I think he ate something bad.)  I found my horse laying down on the other side of the creek.  Colic?  You bet.  The veterinarian left at 10:00.  It's been a long night so far.  I have walked a lot of miles.  It is cold.  I am freezing.  I have to go back and make another check later.  But, what the hey?  I can handle this.

Train as you fight.  Fight as you train.  I know this.  I got this.  I am a critical piece of the puzzle in this battle.  I know that if I do not perform to my utmost ability, I will be letting down the people on my right and the people on my left.

No.

I do not make this stuff up.

P.S.

L.D.D. - tried your colic cure.  Shot a bottle down his mouth and waited 30 minutes - got a poo.  Still tried to keep laying down on me.  Called the vet and walked for the next hour or more.  We got another poo and for about 10 minutes he looked like he was feeling better.  Then, not so much.  Would have given him more time, but it was too cold and getting too late.

What does it take to melt ice?

One would think that the temperature just has to rise above 32 degrees and ice would melt.

Nah!

On Sunday, I dealt with even more ice.  Yes, this was exactly one week and three days after the initial event.

As you can see, there is a ray of sunshine here.  It just was not hitting where I needed it to.  I broke up as much as I could with the shovel.  Then, I grabbed the ax again.  This ice was actually blocking the door.  It was over six inches deep up by the foundation.  Once I got the doors open, I had to halter my girl and walk her out.  There was still enough ice to break a leg.  She had been in there so long, I don't think she believed it was true.  She promptly bucked, kicked, stomped, and had a mini-rodeo.  Then, she ran across the creek and went to visit the neighbors.  Two hours later, I got to do this all over again.  Deuce was equally excited, but once his door was open, instead of walking out...he jumped.  He wasn't really sure what that crap was on the ground, and he wasn't taking any chances.

We were well into the 60's today, and there is still ice on the ground.

What a Week!

This past one has been a killer.  We had a trip out of town.  We had a massive ice storm.  I had some place to be every single day of this week, which is so not me.  I like to be home a little.  I have crap to do.  I can't run around all the time or things start to stack up or back up or get messed up or whatever you want to call it.  Then, if that wasn't enough, I ran the local feed store on Friday and Saturday.  BUT WAIT, that's not all!  After all that, I went car shopping with my Full-Timer.  We hit three dealerships after work on Saturday.

whew!

I am poopered out!

Before the storm, I had made time to get the barns ready.  I had filled water tanks, chicken water, added extra shavings to the stalls and to the chicken barn, and hauled in extra bales of hay for the horses.  Well, who knew this crap was going to last for so long.  We had been hauling warm water from the house for the horses.

I know.

Some of you are saying, "What?"

But, it is important for horses to drink water during this crap.  This is prime weather for colic and if you have ever spent a night out in the cold with a colicky horse, you know it is not pleasant.  I may be a slow learner about some things, but for me, this is a no brain-er.  Every time I go out the door, I haul two five gallon buckets of hot water.  I mix it with water from the water tank, and TA DA - spoiled ass horses that drink a lot of water.  After a week it will wear out your elbows - plus I think my arms are a few inches longer - but, it is so worth it.

Any-who-da-lolly!

By Thursday, we were out of hay in the horse barn and the chickens needed their water things filled up.  They have two five gallon water containers and one three gallon container.  I put on all my gear and headed out the door.

Now, mind-you, this is one week after the ice storm hit.

This may be crazy, but chopping the ice with the ax is sort of fun.  I would not want to chop ice in a pond, like what you would do for cattle or something, but this seems relatively safe to me and does help work out some frustrations.

Then, I opened the door to the chicken barn.  The girls and the guineas have been in there for quite a while...

All the white, slippery stuff really messed with the guineas.  They have so much to learn about this world.  I still had to haul in some hay bales, so I went around to the door.  This is what I found.

I could not get the doors open.  This was a little more challenging to chop through.  You see, I was standing on solid ice.  Yes.  Standing on solid ice and swinging an ax.

You did not know I was so talented.

To be cont.

Day #25

When something bad happens to one of my animals, I feel compelled to share it.  Possibly you have the same animal?  Possibly this information could be useful to someone?  Possibly I just need to purge it from my life, and this makes that happen?

I find it really hard to write about things as they happen.  I think it is important to - First, get a handle on the situation.  Second, the animal has to be okay.  Third, I need time to recover.  I told you I would fill you in, and I have gone through the above needed stages of recovery, so here you go. 

This is going to be a bare bones, not a lot of fluff, gross things will be covered, sort of story.  If you eat at your computer, don't read this.  If you don't understand part of this story, feel free to ask your questions in the comment section.  Then make sure to check back for answers.





Colic - 
noun

1. paroxysmal pain in the abdomen or bowels.

adjective

2. pertaining to or affecting the colon or the bowels.

 

Now that I have convinced you to put your afternoon snack or dinner plate down, I will explain.  Some of us are only familiar with the term Colic as it pertains to babies.  The unsettled, incessant crying of a colicky baby is something that is hard to forget.  If you are familiar with horses, you know that they too can succumb to the pains of Colic.  It is quited dangerous for the large animal and can result in death.  The major fact to realize is that a horse's digestive system is a one way track.  They can not throw up.  What goes in one end, must come out the other.

 

A horse can colic for many reasons.  Colic can range from a mild episode of upset digestion to an all out emergency resulting in an impaction or a twisted bowel.  In the event of the latter, you are faced with the decision to perform colic surgery or put the animal down.  For those that are curious, colic surgery runs from $5000 - $7500.  As with any major surgery, there is always the risk of complications.

 

A little background on our history with Colic. 

 

Our old Stallion, very prone to colic.  He was a tough guy, but he had a very sensitive digestive system.  A bout of colic could start with a sudden change in the weather.  Usually a hot, humid, still day would send him over the edge.  Maybe sudden cold would be the culprit?  Over time, we began to notice the potential triggers, and we were able to head things off a little better.  Hot, humid day - I would hose him down three or four times.  Cold day - I would drag him out of his stall and walk him a couple of times a day.  I also started feeding him three times a day, instead of twice a day.  This gave him smaller meals to digest.  Not to mention, becoming very picky about the quality of hay he consumed.  He was sort of a pig and would eat anything and everything.

 

Our old mare, not a lot of episodes for her.  She experienced a couple of rounds of colic around vaccination time.  It took a bit of time and effort, but we realized she was having a reaction to the rabies vaccine.  Once we determined the trigger, she no longer recieved that particular vaccine.  All other times seemed to be more mild.  I could usually spot it as it started and head it off with her.  It may be as simple as a walk and tie her to the trailer.  This usually stimulated her bowels to get moving.

 

The other two in the barn have greatly benefited from the education we received from the first two.  They eat three smaller meals a day.  They never get all their vaccines at one time.  They get hosed down on hot days and walked on cold days.  That doesn't make them 100% protected, but it helps.

 

Deuce had a mild case of colic when he was only months old.  He got a little too hot.  The vet was called out and he was tubed with a little mineral oil and was good to go. 

 

His sister has had a few bouts with colic.  Once I recall when she was a year or two old because we had started giving her alfalfa cubes.  She really liked those and had too many.  She had a case of colic once when the Man in Charge was out of town.  The girls and I had to load her up and haul her to the nearest vet.  This was probably only the second time I had ever hooked up the trailer and hauled a horse.  

 

More than a little never wracking.

 

It was also the first time this horse had ever left the farm alone.  The vet was rude and hit her with a broom because she was freaked out.  If I hadn't needed him at that moment, I would have taken the broom and beat the crap out of him.  He did tube her and give her mineral oil.  Once we were outside trying to load her, he locked the doors and left.  We were out there for a good hour trying to get a tranquilized horse loaded in a trailer in the dark.  There were so many shadows, she was scared to death.  If I ever see him (the vet) again, I hope he has a broom in his hands.

 

Colic is serious.  It is not fun.  It is better avoided.

 

We have had mild cases that we caught early and managed quickly.  We have had more severe cases that required vet care and a lot of sleepless hours.  Not to mention that you are usually out in the worst weather - hot and humid or freezing your butt off.

 

So, last Monday, I walked out to the barn at about 4:30 in the afternoon to throw some hay.  I tossed out a few flakes and quickly noticed that my mare was not interested at all.

 

not typical.

 

I went inside her stall and I could tell that she had been walking a lot.  I could also tell that she had laid down.  This is not unusual for her, but a piece of the puzzle.  I walked out into her run and spotted a fresh poop. 

 

fresh poop is good.

 

I pulled her out and hosed her down due to the heat that day.  It wasn't crazy hot, but it was a little humid and still.  Then I took her in her stall and checked her gums.  They were nice and pink and looking healthy.

 

gray/blueish color - bad.

 

I then pulled out a stethoscope and listened to her abdomen on both sides.  There were plenty of gurgling and rumbling sounds.

 

loud gut sound - good.

 

Scratching my head a little, I pulled out a digital thermometer and started searching for the Vaseline. 

 

can I say?

 

not being able to find something at a time like this - super irritating.

 

Finally finding the Vaseline, I lubed the thermometer, clicked the button until it beeped, raised her tail and inserted it.  Having to stand close enough that you can hear it beeping as it reads the temperature is a little akward, but necessary.  Once I hear rapid beeping, I pull out the thermometer and find that her temperature is in the normal range.

 

normal is good.

 

The Man in Charge came home and I filled him in.  Based on the information we had, he wasn't very worried.  All the above signs were good.  My gut was just telling me something else.  I ran to the feed store and grabbed some bags of shavings.  Once I got back, I pulled her out of her stall and tied her to the trailer.  I was hoping this would stimulate her a little.  It always worked with the older two horses, but they were athletes.  Competitors.  They thought if you were tied to the trailer, you were about to get saddled and the work would begin.  This usually stimulated a poop response.

 

Sort of - "Oh crap! We're about to get down to business."

 

literally

 

No such luck with my little one.  I then began the process of stripping her stall.  This is when I noticed fresh poop #2.  

 

Very nice.

 

I gave her fresh bedding, and then proceeded to walk her around the back yard.  The Man in Charge came out, I gave him an update, and again, he wasn't too worried.  We walked for a good 20 minutes or so, but one thing kept giving me pause.  There are certain things in the yard that would normally have peaked her interest or caused her concern.  Today they were not even phasing her.  After noticing that little fact, I decided to push the envelope.  I made a point to walk by one of the dog's balls in the yard and I started playing soccer with it as we walked.  This would bother her normally, but I wasn't even getting a rise out of her.  I finally took her back to the trailer and tied her to stand there for a bit.  I sat down on the back porch to watch her from a distance.  I picked up the phone to call a friend, and within five minutes of the conversation, poop #3.  I am guessing it was about 8:00 pm at this time.

 

very encouraging.

 

I finished my conversation, went to the trailer and untied her.  I pulled her inside her stall and grabbed a chair.  I positioned myself and a floor fan in the opening.  The Man in Charge came out and listened to her gut again.  She still had good sound, but I was noticing that she would lift her tail slightly, and pin her ears back.

 

cramping?

 

Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.  I ran to the house and grabbed a shot of Banamine (pain medicine).  A standard dose for her would be 10cc, but due to the fact that we had good vitals, good gut sounds, and three poops - I only gave her half a dose.  Just a little something to take the edge off of her belly ache.  This seemed to work relatively quickly.

 

My Full-Timer came home from class at about 9:45 pm.  She came out to the barn and filled me in on her day.  I filled her in on mine, and we just chit-chatted for a while.  The Man in Charge came back out and I updated him on our progress.  We both agreed that if we could get one more poop out of her, we would probably be in the clear.  He suggested that I walk her around the yard a bit more and see what happened.  He headed inside, and my Full-timer did the same to grab a bite to eat.

 

I walked that horse around the yard for maybe 15 minutes, at which point she took a nose dive.  Once she hit the ground, I got her right back up.  We walked some more.  My Full-timer came back out, and Blaze took another dive in the yard.  This time she started rolling.  All the way to one side, then back over to the other.  I was able to get her stopped and up on her feet.  I had my Full-timer run in to get the Man in Charge.

 

rolling is bad.

 

this is how things get twisted.

 

twisted gut - very bad.

 

I managed to get her back into her stall before the whole crew showed back up.  We discussed what happened, and what we thought we should do.  The Man in Charge suggested a little old school method.  Hooking up the trailer and taking her for a ride to stimulate her.  It sounds crazy, but it has worked for us in the past, and is a lot cheaper than calling the vet.  It also doesn't hurt to give it a try.

 

He managed to hook up the trailer and pull it out.  At the same time, I was in the stall with Blaze and I had her loosely tied.  She was acting like she wanted to lay down, but I was able to keep her on her feet.  At the same moment that I heard the trailer moving, she took the biggest poop I have ever seen - poop #4.

 

Then all hell broke lose.

 

Literally, her knees started buckling, she went down and she immediately started thrashing around.  For those of you who don't know, this is dangerous.  Dangerous to her and to anyone near her.  I yelled for the Man in Charge, and when he got in there he told me to call the vet.  The only horses he had ever seen like that had died, so the emphasis was on hurry!

 

I ran to the house, made the call and waited for the vet to call back.  I then grabbed a syringe and loaded up another shot of Banamine (pain killer), but a full 10cc dose this time.  I could hear a lot of commotion outside, and my first thought was that the Man in Charge was trying to load her in the trailer anyway.

 

For the record, this would have upset me.

 

For the record, upset means make me madder than hell.

 

When I opened the door, I could see him standing outside of her stall, outside of the barn, but trying to hold the lead rope over the door.  He yelled at me to hurry.  As I made my way across the yard, the vet called.  I filled him in quickly, and explained that I had already given her 5cc of Banamine, could I give her an additional 10cc?  He told me to give the shot and he was on his way.

 

I am pretty sure he was calling from a deep sleep in bed. 

 

11:00 pm at this time.

 

When I came around inside the barn, I could see scrape marks all over the stall walls from where she had been down and thrashing, kicking anything and everything.  The Man in Charge was leaning over the door, but he had her up, and her head was against the door.

 

"If you're giving that shot, you better do it now before she goes down again!"

 

Talk about a little pressure.  I jumped in, and Thank the Lord, hit the vein on the first stab.  The Banamine hit her pretty quick.  The Man in Charge came inside, and the wait began.  The longest hour of our entire lives.  It started out okay, but the Banamine was not strong enough to last.  It took both of us to keep her on her feet and we were constantly asking the Full-Timer how long it had been.  Literally, the minute before the vet pulled in the drive, I was trying to call him to see if I could give her more.

 

I met our vet at the truck and filled him in.  He grabbed some necessities off the truck and rushed inside with me.  Very calmly he started his examination.  He checked all her vitals.  He checked her gums.  He listened for gut sounds.  He took her temperature.  He then stepped out to grab a tranquilizer to send her to "her happy place." 

 

His words.

 

Not mine.

 

It didn't take long and her head was hanging a few inches off the ground.  We were then tasked with the job of turning an 1100 lb. drunk around.  Once we had her in position, our vet slipped on the dreaded rubber glove.  This glove goes all the way to the arm pit.  He lubed it up with some jelly and lifted her tail.

 

The Full-timer made a prompt exit of the building.

 

Girl was out of there.

 

He did his examination or palpated her.  He explained what he was feeling, and the areas that seemed to be tender to her.  He wasn't feeling anything twisted or horrible, but he prefaced this with the fact that his arm could only reach the back third of her intestines.

 

nice.

 

We then were tasked with the job of turning our drunk patient back around.  At this time he pinched her nose with a twitch, and then proceeded to run a tube up her nostril, down her throat, and into her belly.  After finally reaching the belly, he was pleased that it was not full of fluid, I didn't even ask why this was important.  Then he pumped her full of mineral oil and some electrolytes.

 

As if all of this wasn't interesting and exciting enough, now is when the real fun began.  Upon completely his examination, the vet explained that he was encouraged by her vitals and color.  Usually, in worst case scenarios, these things would be elevated.  He explained that the tranquilizer she had been given would last about another thirty minutes.  Once that wore off, our instructions were as follows:

 

Let her rest and stay quiet.

If she becomes agitated or starts trying to lay down, take her out and walk her for thirty minutes.

After thirty minutes of walking, is she was still unsettled, give her another tranquilizer shot.

Then wait and repeat.

As long as she is quiet - she is okay.

If we reach the third shot - not good.

 

If we reached the third shot, we would then be faced with the decision of hospitalization and surgery or putting her down.  The cold, hard, ugly of it - we both agreed that surgery was not in the cards for her.  She has had a hard couple of years, and if we reached that point, we would just put her down and end her troubles.

 

The thought of calling in the back-hoe - chilling.

 

The vet left.  Now we were well into 1:00 in the morning, and everyone was tired.  The Man in Charge had an early day ahead, and my Full-timer had work.  I told them both to go inside.  I felt like I could handle it.  Whatever it was, I knew it was on me.  The Man in Charge felt much better after the vet left, and bet me Blaze would come out of the tranquilizer relaxed and on the other side of things.

 

The standing bet between us - $0.25!

 

I just told him that I hoped he was right, and went to the house to grab a cup of coffee and a couple of lawn chairs.  I came back, turned off all the lights in the barn, except for one, and set up camp just outside the door.  It was quiet.  Nothing but time to think.  It is crazy where your brain goes at times like these.  You start off positive. 

 

It's going to be okay.

 

She'll pull through this.

 

Then, it can get really dark and negative.

 

I'm going to have to call the back-hoe.

 

I hate planting horses - not a good crop.

 

Then, it just gets weird.

 

This will cut down on our vet bills.

 

I won't need anymore hay for the winter.

 

Sad.  Sad.  Sad.

 

At 2:00 am, she came out of the tranquilizer.  At first she was calm.  Then she started pacing a little.  Then she laid down.  The vet said laying down very still was okay.  Thrashing or rolling was not okay.  She got right up.  She paced a little more.  She laid down, then shot right up.  She then laid right back down on the other side and shot right back up.  I grabbed the halter.

 

We started walking circles around the back yard.  The first fifteen minutes were uneventful.  Then she started cramping because she would stop walking and pin her ears back.  I would stop and wait, once they passed, we moved on.  This lasted about ten more minutes and then she took another nose dive.  This time, she hit the ground hard.  She tried to roll, but I refused to let her.  Once I had her back on her feet, we made a bee-line for the barn.  I got her in her stall and gave her the tranquilizer shot.  Then I waited.

 

It did not work.

 

She was getting no relief from the medication.  She kept trying to lay down.  I wouldn't let her.  This is no easy task.  There was pleading.  Yelling.  Crying.  It went on for about twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes of panic for myself.  This was not part of the plan.  We did not cover this scenario.  What was I supposed to do?  How long do I have to wait to give the next shot?  Can I give it this soon?  That last shot would be the beginning of the end.  I did not want to go there.  We could not go there.

 

We wrestled around for about twenty minutes and she finally went down in her stall.  She laid out flat, and when she jerked her head up, she whacked the bottom of her water bucket.  Well, this caused her water to splash out and drench her head.  She immediately shot up, with a look on her face that said,

 

"What the hell did you do that for?"

 

This worked in my favor for a few more minutes because she stayed on her feet.  Then she hit the floor and started thrashing.  She flipped over and got herself stuck right up against the wall.  At this point, I was useless.  Having to bail out of the stall for my own safety, the only thing I could do was grab a whip and try to motivate her to get herself out of the mess she was in.  It was scary.  Neither one of us liked it, but it worked.  Once she got to her feet, I jumped in and put the halter on her.  At this point, she broke out in a solid sweat.  I drug her outside and started hosing her down.

 

She seemed to like this and calmed down a little.  Then we started walking.  I had no other choice.  If I gave her the next shot, it would be admitting defeat, and we would be making hard decisions.  If I could keep her up and keep her walking, maybe we could get through this.  It was 3:00 am. 

 

During something like this, time plays tricks on you.  It felt like we had walked miles and for hours...only fifteen minutes.

 

ugh.

 

We kept at it.  I walked.  She walked.  I drug her at times.  She still walked.  The neighbor horse would give out a yell.  She yelled back.  Deuce would throw his two cents in from inside the barn.  This went on and on.  I am still shocked that no one inside my home could hear this.  Finally, at 3:30 in the morning, I put her back in her stall.  She seemed worn out.  I turned off the lights and took up my post outside the barn.  All was quiet.  This was good.  She stayed calm.  Only making a lap around her stall every now and then.

 

The only distraction, a crazy hoot owl.  It was dark and impossible to see where he was exactly.  I do know that he changed positions a few times.  He remained persistent with the hooting.  I thought it was odd, considering one would think he should be hunting.  Hooting and hunting don't seem like they go together to me, but he kept at it.  At first it was cute.  Then, super annoying.

 

By 4:00 am, I was getting a little punchy.  The owl was starting to get funny.  I had already blown through my five lives on Candy Crush, or Candy Crack as I like to call it. 

 

If you don't know what Candy Crush is - do not look it up! 

 

It is the most addictive game on the planet and of course, I have it on my phone.  I also vaguely recall posting something on my blog.  Then the strangest thing happened.  I got cold.  I have been complaining about the heat.  I am sick of it.  I have never been so ready for winter.  The sensation was very odd and I tried to ignore it for a bit.  I finally had to make a trip to the house for a jacket.  I snuck in, and everyone was out.  I grabbed a hoody and another cup of coffee.

 

how many cups of coffee can one drink in a night?

 

I went back outside.  Blaze was still quiet.  The owl was still hooting.  I settled in.  I drank my coffee.  Waited thirty minutes for my new life on Candy Crush.  Played that to the death a little too quickly and then moved on to the game Collapse.  Who knew, but the dew sets sometime between 4:00 and 5:00 am.  If you are sitting outside when that happens, watch out!  I went from cold to chilled to the bone.  I was literally shivering.  I had my hoody pulled down, my hands shoved in my pockets, and I was freezing. 

 

At about 5:15, I snuck inside.  Flower was sleeping in my recliner, and she was laying on a blanket.  I rudely shoved her out of my chair and grabbed that blanket.  As I was wrapping up in it, I was thanking her for getting it warm.  She was not saying, "Your welcome."  She was giving me a dirty look as she went around the corner to get in her bed.  It was sort of rude of me.  I know she was waiting for me to come inside to go to bed.  That is just the kind of dog she is, but, damn it.  I was cold.  I allowed myself about fifteen minutes to sit wrapped in that blanket, then I headed back out. 

 

All was quiet.  Even the stupid owl at this point.  I stayed at my post until 6:15.  I felt pretty good that we were heading in the right direction.  I had not seen any poop out of my girl, but she was resting quietly.  I headed inside, and fell in my chair.  I crashed pretty quick because when the Man in Charge woke me at 6:45, it seemed like I had just sat down.  He wanted to know how things went.  I told him he owed me a quarter.  Then I filled him in.

 

The next day was long.  I had to keep an eye on her.  At this point, we were waiting for poop with Mineral oil.  It was the last thing that went in, and if you see it making it's way out, you know you're wide open.  She was more than a little upset that she was not getting fed.  I didn't take this personally, but took it as a good sign.  Finally, about noon, I gave her a handful of hay.  Literally, a hand full.  I went inside and crashed for two hours.  I was so tired, when I woke up, I did not know what day it was.  I did not know where I was.  What I was supposed to be doing.  I was in a fog.  When I finally shook it off, I jumped up and ran to the barn.  Where I promptly started celebrating the poop in the corner.

 

Glamorous, I know.

 

This started the process.  A little hay, a little poop.  It proceeded for the next 24 hours.  It was crazy.  It was not typical.  It was scary, and I don't ever want to do that again.