Nantua Farm Blog

Well, Bill did it again. This time I’m not quite sure if all of his brain cells were firing… I’m standing in the aisle, pulling Blue’s mane, when all of a sudden I hear this “harrumphing” behind me. As a preface, I want to add that we’d put up a stall chain across Bill’s stall so that we can pick his stall (with him in it) without a Bill escape… something of a normal experience as we have an “Oh Sh*t Bucket” (thanks to my friend and trainer, Jennifer… she also happens to be Bill’s previous owner, so she knows a thing or two about his antics) within grabbing distance in entrance to the tack room. And yes, because of darling Bill. Anyways, stupid me, I didn’t close his stall gate, just left him in his stall with the stall chain up as I was IN the barn with both of the end doors to the barn CLOSED so there wasn’t even anywhere interesting to go. Well, I guess Bill didn’t care, because as soon as I hear the funny noises, I turn to find Bill… stuck. He’d managed to get his head under the stall chain and one foot over the cement threshold. The look in his eye was priceless as he knew he was stuck…! So I jam the pulling comb into my pants pocket and go over to the dummy, lift his jammed leg (his bad leg, of course, which is why I didn’t take a picture… still kicking myself for that though) back over the threshold and he was able to pull his head back into his stall. At this point, I burst into laughter. I just couldn’t control myself. I mean, this 1,200 lb animal who is DAMN smart just got stuck trying to outsmart me while my back was turned and got CAUGHT! As my laughter got louder and more hysterical, Bill gave me this look saying, “Shut up, I will remember this and I am so gonna pay you back…” Haven’t received the payback yet, although I’m sure it’s in the works.

So when someone mentions snow balls, the first thought that comes to mind (at least it was for me until recently) is children enjoying their unexpected days off of school due to large amounts of snow. Bundled up like marshmallows, they’ve gathered to build up their stockpiles of snow balls for the winter time battles. No matter where you go in the northeastern United States, you are sure to find at least one group of kids huddled behind impromptu igloo style “fort walls” with piles of small round white balls that fly through the air. Inevitably there are also groups of bored older “children” (aka tweens) that use their snow balls for more destructive means, such as attempting to use cars as moving target practice. But then, if you grew up in an area that got a regular amount of snow every winter, we all have done both. Unfortunately, as much as I wish that the snow balls I am referring to were these, they are not.

It’s funny how much, as a younger, non-horse farm owner (i.e. servant and/or the “help” for the horses - I swear that there are moments where I will be picking a stall while a horse is in and they turn to look at me almost saying with their eyes “Umm, are you done yet? And, by the way, you missed a piece over there. Great, you got it…you’re excused now, I’ll call when you’re needed next.”), I LOVED snow. I saw it as romantic and calming. A pure white blanket that would begin to transform this familiar landscape into a foreign land. Again, this was pre-horse farm. This was when I could sit inside, in the warm heated house and gaze out the window as the lazy fat flakes floated out of the sky making naked trees into a winter wonderland. I no longer feel that way.

No, now even going out to the barn for the daily chores is a chore. My routine (which occurs several times/day and, if you find that you misjudged and need to use the restroom, well, you’re sort of up a creek) entails the following (for weather that is below freezing, which the HIGH has been for the past 10 days!):

1. First layer: Either thermal long johns/leggings or winter breeches, winter thermal socks and a turtleneck
2. Second Layer: Sweatpants, windpants or jeans, possibly a lightweight fleece top or sweater depending on the temp and wind and another layer of winter socks
3. Third Layer: Carhartt overalls (lifesavers!), a heavyweight hooded sweatshirt and another pair of shorter socks
4. Fourth Layer: Winter coat, Muck Boot Co. mid-height boots, either my leather Thinsulate gloves (that allows me to actually USE my hands) or water resistant ski gloves, headband that specifically covers my ears, a fleece “scarf turtleneck” I pull over my head and on top of my turtleneck and, depending of the temp and wind, a fleece hat.

Needless to say it takes at least 10-15 minutes just to get DRESSED to go out to do the barn chores. Then we actually come to doing the chores. What would typically be a job that could be done quickly and efficiently without being miserable and losing feeling in your extremities, now takes at least 2x as long in the sub-freezing temps. For example, after mucking (which is a joy all on it’s own, only plus is the manure is frozen), we have to first melt any of the non-heated buckets. Once melted, we have to pour in hot water we lugged out from the house and attach the hose (which had been, hopefully, drained adequately enough the night before) to the nozzle that we have had to bring into the house overnight or it will freeze. Then we quickly fill all of the buckets, heated and non-heated without letting the hose and nozzle sit too long or they will freeze together. As soon as we’re done we take it all apart and drain the 25′ hose at least 2x so it will work again the next day. And that is just ONE of the multitude of chores that must be done everyday at the farm.

Then there are the snow balls… Not the fun, kids playing games snow balls. Noooo, these are (for all of you non-horse people) massive accumulations of snow, ice, mud, hay, grass and manure that freeze into the horses feet and to their metal shoes whenever there is snow on the ground. Many times the only way to dislodge them is to soak each foot in warm/hot water in a bucket. Take 5 horses and multiple by 4. And remember that it is, most likely, no warmer than 20 degrees out. Typically it is by this point that I can no longer feel my feet or my hands.

So, next time all of you non-horse people or those of you lucky enough to be boarding your horse, please think of me suffering out in the barn. It may look beautiful (at times I still think so, until I remember I have to go out into it), but it sure as hell ain’t fun! Oh, and once it does get warmer and stops snowing… You’d think I’d be thrilled. Well, all that snow creates a brand new problem… Acres and acres of boot-sucking mud (don’t get me wrong, I’ll take that over sub-freezing temps any day!). All I know is that it’s a very good thing that I love these beasts called horses, because otherwise I’d be questioning my sanity.

Coming from Maryland to Kentucky, I’ve become somewhat cynical about what true Kentuckians consider a “bad” winter (sorry, guys, but I’ve been through more blizzards and ice storms than I can remember growing up in Baltimore, MD)… Sure, I’m probably much kinder in that respect than someone who was, say, a Vermont transplant, but then they also would understand why I laugh when they close schools for a dusting of snow. But I’ve decided this year to make a list of sorts… The pros and the cons of winters on a farm in Kentucky.

Let’s see, first for the pros:
1. Lots of days off of school
2. The horses shit freezes in the stalls so they really can’t TRASH their stalls
3. It sure is pretty seeing the gorgeous KY landscape covered in a blanket of snow
4. The bizarre 60+ degree days thrown in amongst the 30 degree days
5. Minimal shoveling for the most part
6. Yet to experience an honest to goodness blizzard here in good ‘ole KY
7. Much shorter winter season here than in MD
8. The lack of mud on a horse who has rolled with a blanket vs. the horse who has rolled that does not have a blanket
9. Riding just after it has stopped snowy and everything looks like it’s covered in a brilliant white blanket
10. NO FLIES (especially horse flies)!

Now for the always humorous cons:
1. Having to clean out the winter heated buckets that have been SHAT in with freezing cold water and non-waterproof gloves (because the my loving lab has chewed all the waterproof ones up)!
2. Blanketing… enough said.
3. The wind!
4. Ice storms and the ensuing loss of power
5. KY’s bad winter weather drivers (no offense)
6. Lack of a hard frost in early fall, which helps with my allergies oh so much
7. KY’s seeming inability to winterize roads when necessary
8. Cleaning up a dirty horse without hot water in the barn
9. No heat in the barn… althought I’m working on that!
10. Snowballs in the horses hooves and shoes that must be melted out of their feet by submerging them in hot water (so much fun when it’s below freezing outside)
11. Breaking ice off of the occasional bucket when the heater decides to stop working
12. Having to drain EVERY hose EVERY night
13. Frozen toes, hands, fingers, noses and, occasionally, butts…
14. Bill and his bad attitude whenever he sees that it’s snowing (he has actually tried to turn tail and run back to his stall at the first sight of the white stuff! He also voices his objections loudly… Not a horse who suffers silently!)
15. The insanely short days that have far too little sunshine for my liking

I’m sure I’ve left out quite a few, but you get my drift… Just hoping we don’t have a repeat of last winter and the memorable Ice Storm of ‘09 and that all of my turnouts and stable blankets make it through another winter. I have to say, however, that the best part of winter is Christmas… And being on a horse farm just gives me an excuse to decorate a whole extra building! So pull out the garland, wreaths, bows and stockings, ’cause Nantua Farm is going to be getting ready for the holidays! Happy holidays to everyone!!!

60 meters by 20 meters… Sounds simple enough, right? Sooo wrong! Guess I should have paid more attention to geometry while in high school (although I never guessed that the first time I’d use it SINCE high school would be to set up a dressage arena, so, no, to all you high schoolers out there who ask “are we ever going to use this sh*t again?” That is, unless you plan on ever attempting to layout a dressage arena. For those of you who don’t know, a standard size dressage arena (there’s also a small dressage arena) is a 60 meter by 20 meter rectangle (which roughly converts to 66 ft by 197 ft, well, technically 65.6 ft by 196.8 ft, but who’s counting, right?) with at least 8 letters (6 on the sides and one on each end - A F B M C H E K - A being where you enter) around the perimeter. Each letter is supposed to be a certain distance away from the corner and the other letters, the arena needs to me square and, of course, the corners need to be honest to God 90 degree angles. Sounds easy enough until you’re out there moving letters and sides of the arena around for the billionth time. So, as dusk began to settle, I made an executive decision. Eyeball the damn thing. And you know what? I went back and measured it a few days later and it’s actually closer to being dead on correct than it was the dozen or so times I tried to figure it out mathematically. So I’m not sure whether to be proud that I obviously have a good eye or really embarrassed that my geometry and math sucks THAT much (and I used to be really really good in math, too)! All I know is, that damn arena is staying put. Mow around it, jump areound it, I don’t really care, because I sure as hell won’t be doing THAT again any time soon!

Ok… So by dinner time (the horse’s dinner time, because, of course, our clock revolves around their clock) I’m usually dragging. Ready to feed and toss their behinds out. Well, tonight I got a little wake-up call in the form of a cow standing maybe 3-5 feet from the back doors of the barn. All I can mutter is “ok then” as the horses continue complaining that I’m dragging my ass with concern to their dinner. Seems that the cattle have figured out that the grass truly is greener on our side of the fence and pulled down two bottom boards and crawled through. Didn’t realize bovine were that smart…

So today was one of those days… The days that never seem to end and you just want to climb back up the stairs, change back into your pj’s and crawl into bed until the sun has set and risen once again. But, of course, you can’t. So, how does this hair-raising day end? One of my boarders is turning out her horse, O’Malley, into his pasture when she sees a tiny black thing running around IN the pasture. Not a cat. Not a dog. Not even some weird animal I can’t name. No, it’s one of our neighbors calves. A one day old bull to be exact… So people begin to gather (think we eventually got to 5) to attempt to put this 100 lb calf back into it’s own pasture. He was having none of it! Head-butting anything and everyone in sight and O’Malley calmly stands off to the side observing the hysterics. Then they both began to head towards the same gate (O’Malley and the calf, that is) and I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large beast jump out of his skin so fast in regards to something that could, quite literally, walk underneath his belly… After what seemed like an eternity of people waving their arms, lots of head-butts, the mama cow mooing for her baby, and O’Malley keeping his distance, the poor terrified calf crawled back through the fence to his mom. All I can say is thank God for my boarder (thank you, Shannon!) and her level-headed horse. So now, I go to bed knowing that I already have one thing on my “To Do” list for tomorrow… Fix that fence.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m very appreciative that my barn cats are doing their duty and making sure that our barn is free of all small edible creatures, but there are moments where I wish they sucked at their job… Like this morning. Not a bad morning, Charlie’s swollen eye was looking more normal and nothing had been destroyed over night by the equine monsters during the dreaded switch from night to day turnout. So not bad…. right? Wrong. I walk back to the house to enjoy my breakfast (because, of course, my lovely pampered 1,000 lb+ beasts get to dine first at our farm or the human folk will hear about it) and what do I find? A headless rabbit carcass… I will spare you the details, as they kept me from eating, but needless to say, my darling barn cats, who are no larger (and possibly smaller) than this headless rabbit had dragged the poor bunny cottontail to the GARAGE! They are supposed to be BARN cats! So, hopefully, by lunch time, I’ll be hungry again…

In our barn, we have two 12′ x 12′ stalls that can (well, could originally, you’ll understand why not anymore at the end of the story) be converted into a 12′ x 24′ foaling stall by simply removing ten to twelve 2″ x 8″ boards that slide into a groove made by some pieces of wood that had been nailed to the sides of the stalls (not my design!)… Well, when we first moved to the property, Blue and Bill shared those adjoining stalls. This arrangement has since changed all because of what I found one morning when I came out to feed. Seems that Blue, who is known around the barn as the prankster and, when bored, can raise some hell, had somehow managed, with his TEETH to pull out on of these 2″ x 8″ x 12 foot boards. At first I didn’t notice it as I went into his stall and thought something was a little odd with the wall, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Well, then I went into Bill’s stall… Right in the middle is this board covered in teeth marks. So, I shake my head, pull the board out and go on with my day. Not the end of the story… Several days later I come in to turn everyone out and there are TWO more boards pulled out as well as one board (mind you this is a 2″ x 8″) that is cracked in half! Slowly but surely, Blue is removing the wall so it’s low enough for this 17.1 hh lughead to step over into Bill’s stall! Now, what he was planning on doing once in there I’m not quite sure as Bill is not really the “sharing” type. Not a stall I’d want to be in! Oh, and all three (well, four, I guess, as one of them was in 2 pieces) were all in Bill’s stall as Blue didn’t want anything littering HIS precious stall! Still not sure how he/they managed it, but, needless to say, Charlie is now in Bill’s old stall (who doesn’t put up with Blue’s shananigans) and every board has TWO screws in both ends… I just have to wonder what Blue must have been like on the track… Oh good Lord!

For some reason, clean clothing seems to have a bullseye for every horse booger in the barn. Leave it to your equine best friend to snort on your best or most expensive WHITE shirt only minutes before you need to leave to go somewhere. And with my luck, it typically ends up landing front and center of my chest… But what happened the other day beats the cake. Straight into my face… Enough said.

I have to preface this story with the fact that my neighbor, a cattle farmer, is amazing! He is one of those guys who has every tool and toy imaginable and is willing to help you out whenever you need help (he, in fact, helped us put in an entire fence line of posts because he has a post hole digger attachment for his tractor which makes short work of a big job), so when he admitted that he watches me ride through his binoculars, I just laughed! So, I went down to his barn the other day to see what was going on (there were a bunch of worker bees hanging around) and he begins telling the guys hanging around about me and what he saw through his binoculars the other day. Now, you have to imagine this in a strong southeastern Kentucky accent… “So, I see her get bucked off this little mustang… and she gets back on. I think she’s nuts. Then I see her get bucked off again and she gets BACK ON AGAIN! This happens several times, and each time the buck gets worse and the landing gets harder…. So all I have to say is, damn, this girl has cojones!”

So have you ever ridden, don’t really care where or what discipline and found yourself looking down at the ground knowing that momentarily you would be there regardless of your intention of remaining in the saddle? Not the best feeling in the world. My most recent “that’s gonna hurt…” moment was several months ago when I was riding Blue, my big 17.1 hh OTTB dressage king. We were having a leisurely hack out in the back pasture and suddenly, without warning (well, of course there was no warning, or I would have figured out a different method of dismount) a horse fly lands on his massive butt and stings him. Despite Blue’s size and normally calm demeanor, he erupted into bucks that I never knew he was capable of. I’m talking the big, twist his head from side to side while throwing his butt over his ears kind of buck! So, what do I do in that infinitely small moment? I look down at the ground (which seems way farther away at that point than it did 30 minutes ago when mounting) and “that’s gonna hurt…” begins to play in my head. To my right is a large flat rock and to my left is an even bigger not so flat rock. Neither way is a good out. So I’m pretty much screwed at this point. I drop my stirrup irons (as getting dragged is the LAST thing I need) and hold on for dear life! Now, any polo player worth their salt knows that stuff like this happens all the time (ok, maybe not all the time, but that, of course, depends on how lucky you are when you picked your string of polo ponies) and not only are you expected to remain UPRIGHT in the saddle, but the rest of your team sees no reasonable explanation for why you would be unable to hit, block, hook or bump (sorry for all you non-polo people… polo lingo just sort of comes out). But, I’m not in a polo saddle, I’m in a dressage saddle. And I’m not lucky enough to have a pelham, gag, or other strong bit to assist me in bringing the bouncing helicopter I’m sitting on to a stop. So I begin of thinking about exit strategies… Left or right? Roll or try to land on my feet? Well, maybe a whole 3 seconds later, the decisions have been made for me as I lay on my back staring up at the underside of Blue’s neck. And what is the first thing that pops into my head? “Damn, I missed a spot with the clippers…”