Showing posts with label ponies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ponies. Show all posts

Saturday, April 2, 2016

H for Hubble stands for trouble

Can I just say,  H is a challenging letter for baby names.

But we're managing.

The goat kids are every bit as adorable as people said they would be -- big, curious, endearing personalities all the way around.


Marthajones, escape artist extraordinaire, gave birth to Hubble, the buckling on the left here. Hubble shares both his namesake and his inquisitive nature with a big telescope. Hubble is all of four and a half weeks old and maybe 12 inches high, but can already jump over 3 foot walls, which he does on his regular explorations.

Ameliapond gave birth to and then rejected, Hippo and Harlow. Hippo, short for Hippocrates, is the buckling in the back and Harlow, named after the ethologist who studied orphaned monkeys, is the doeling on the right. It doesn't hurt that she's movie star beautiful. Hippo and Harlow have thrived as bottle babies. Surrogate mothers rock. Ameliapond couldn't care less.

Once we got on the H roll, I figured it was as good a way as any to track all of this year's babies, not just the Pygoras.

Next up were Hercules, Hobbes, and Hamish, all three little black rams. Hercules is the big one in the front. He's Ladybug's baby. Ladybug's the white Bluefaced Leicester in the middle, making him a Bluefaced Leicester cross. Can't wait to see how his fleece turns out. Hobbes is the guy sitting just behind Hercules, sort of snuggled up with Ladybug. His mom is Mary, the Black Welsh off to the left. And finally Hamish, is the smallest of the three and the son of Jill, whose chin he is tucked up under. These three were born within a day or so of each other and are all the mystery offspring of a big collective ram break last fall, the first week in October. No telling who the dads are, sadly. All three look like typical Black Welsh, well, except that Hercules is huge and polled, which Black Welsh rams are not.




A few days after the three rams were born, Harper arrived. Oh look, another black lamb. She's the daughter of Dolly. Also of unknown fatherage from the same ram escape.


Next came the two little bottle babies who were living in my bathroom until a week ago. They're the last of the unplanned Black Welsh babies. Unlike the previous four, these two were a complete surprise and I'm still not sure how they came about. They seemed too late to be from the big escape, but who knows. Their mother is Eve. She's the oldest of the original Black Welsh ewes -- 7 maybe? She had twins last year as well and it really knocked her down hard. I spent all summer and fall trying to get her back into condition and swore I'd never breed her again. I was very, very careful to keep her away from the rams. Um, right. 

Helenka is the one in the blue sweater. Hamza is the little boy on the right. Hamza probably would have been ok without the bottle, but Helenka and Eve both needed the babies to come inside. It was touch and go with Helenka for a good couple of weeks, but everybody's doing well now.


And for something different -- the next guy to arrive was Houston. He's a twofer, born a week ago. So called, because when I agreed to rescue his Mom last fall, (she's Dallas, yes, see that fiber) I was unaware that she was pregnant. Ugh.

Sigh. For the moment they're living very comfortably at the stables across the road. Lucky them.



And finally, at least for the moment, we have Hiccup, our very first Lincoln baby. Charlotte, for her own stubborn reasons I guess, decided to have her babies in the old barn Monday -- you know, the barn where the foxes live. We found her Monday night just as the sun was setting. There were two lambs.  One was already gone and I have to say, looked wrong. The surviving ram lamb, Hiccup, couldn't have been more than a few minutes old, with the amniotic sac still around his waist, covered in goop and a thick layer of dust and grit. He's still a bit shell shocked, I assume from the stressful birth, but Charlotte is a devoted mom and has plenty of milk. I saw him bounce around yesterday for the first time, so I'm hopeful. I've been waiting a long time for a Lincoln baby and will be disappointed if we end up losing both of these. 


And that's it for now.  






Sunday, November 8, 2015

The usurper

We had a few more additions to the farm this summer.

Jellybean, the teenager's fancy pony, came home for an indefinite staycation. She's likely to stick around until her original trainer finds another small child just aching to do dressage - the trainer's and pony's specialty.

Um, yeah, not holding my breath.





In the meantime, Jelly is living the life of a wild pony, free to get dirty and play politics with the herd.

Or both.

Poor Annie is taking the brunt of this. Jelly usurped Annie's role as lady in waiting to Queen Josie and defends it a bit too aggressively if you ask me.

Jelly's ambition in action:














And so it was done.



Monday, April 8, 2013

Mama P settles in

I'm trying out possible turnout groups for Mama P. She got along well with Bom Bom the other day, so that's one possibility. 

Saturday and Sunday she spent with the little girls. Tyche, Thyme and Tigerlilly. This was Tyche and Tiger's second meeting with Mama P. She spent 2 weeks here last spring. Thyme was still across the road and Mama P played surrogate mom to Tyche, who was much smaller then. They were heartwarming together.

This time, not so much. 


Psst, watch this!


Dum de dum de dum de...


Gotcha!


Cut it out brat. 
You used to be such a sweet little thing.


Mmmmmoommmmmmmm. 
She's calling me names!


Phhhhttt.
My mama loves me.



All day long.







Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Walkabout goat style

It must be something in the air.

Donnanoble decided it was her turn to see the world yesterday. I found her in Mutt and Jeff's stall.



Psst, lady. These guys are weird. Can I go home now? 

Mutt and Jeff had no comment, but were glad to see her go.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Walkabout pony style

In all the pony drama this morning, I...

...well

...I...um

...left a gate open.

Cringe.

Josie and Annie, BFFs in crime, got to take their own little walkabout. Unlike the chickens, the ponies chose to take their spin at high speed.

It was Shadow who clued me in. He was racing in circles around his paddock. Something he normally only does during high winds and thunderstorms. Um, no storm in sight.

Oh, wait.

What's that big hunk of spotted appaloosa butt doing OUTSIDE Shadow's paddock fence?

Cr*#p.

I didn't have my iphone on me when I spotted the two fugitives, though I doubt I would have stopped to record the highlights anyway. Too busy kicking myself. But I could have gotten some great shots.

Like, their christening foray into the new pasture, sans fence. They've been standing in their bare, muddy paddock watching me clear brush out there in the grass for days. It must have been killing them.

Their visit to Tyche's paddock on the other side of the barn. Josie was a broodmare in her former life. She pines for Tyche across the barn aisle, but never gets to touch.

Josie crashing through the tree line at a canter only to discover the sagging forty-year-old wire fence buried in the undergrowth. Sheesh. Thank you, Josie, for stopping.

The 80 lb 12-year-old single-handedly guarding the bridge over the creek as 1600 lbs of marauding ponies headed out to the road and an even bigger adventure. That is one pony-savvy 12-year-old. :)

Like a lot of ponies, food was their ultimate downfall. Give me liberty or give me grain. Josie took the grain. And where Josie goes, Annie goes. So that was that.

Really, I need some new fences. And a new stall. Oy.


Josie enjoying greener pastures in years past.
















Mama P

Mama P arrived last night. She is one glossy little chunk of pony. Her foster family took such good care of her.

Naturally, I didn't get her stall finished. So we had to do some last minute pony shuffling and double-bunking. This caused lots of pony drama. Ponies who should have been fine on the shed porch, banging on the doors, demanding to come in. (You know who you are Tyche.) Ponies nipping their temporary neighbors' bums over the walls. (I'm looking at you Shadow.) Ponies kicking said walls (Tigerlilly, take a pill please). Lots of mare-squealing (Again, Tiger, not necessary.).  Oy. I do love ponies. :)

The best arrangement didn't dawn on me until this morning, so more shuffling, more drama. But I think I found an arrangement that will last indefinitely. At least until the new stall is done.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

New arrival

Been b.u.s.y.

We have a new pony arriving this afternoon. She's a lesson pony retiree (reject?) who belongs to our trainer. She's the first pony the 12-year-old ever cantered on, way back when. :)

Sadly, she's a bit too stubborn to be a reliable lesson pony. The owner of the lesson program dumped her on craigslist a year ago. For $50. Our trainer knew her (and loved her), so she paid the ransom and found the pony a foster home. Now that foster home is leaving the state and the pony's coming here to stay.

I need to finish her new stall.

Yesterday.


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Taxes, drought and raiding the international cookie jar

Tick tock. Is anyone else waiting for their tax refund?

Like everybody else I know, the drought last summer put the big kibosh on my hay budget.
I don't have the space to store more than 2 months of hay or I would have stocked up last summer when I had the cash. But I don't (have the space) and I didn't (stock up), so

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Tree shearing

Our property is an old farmstead from the late 1800's. The house has been in continuous use since it was built, but the fields were taken out of active use about 30 years ago. The patriarch of the last farming family died and his children sold the fields off to developers. Except for ours, which, for the most part, were allowed to return to nature.    
                                               
Around here, nature favors the honey locust.

Monday, February 4, 2013

A new toy

Back before Christmas, back before snow, back before frozen water buckets and constant stall cleaning, I bought myself a new camera. I was so impressed by the photos that folks were posting on their blogs, I thought, "I wanna do that!"   So, I read up on what people were saying about good digital cameras for beginners and bought a Canon (oops) Nikon 5100. (I thought about the Canon, but actually bought the Nikon.) Today, I took it out of the box.

I found myself with some free time (what's that?) after I turned all the ponies out this morning, so I dug out the camera and opened it up. Mountains of cords and plugs and batteries and lenses later, I glanced up to discover snow swirling around outside. "Eureka!" I dumped the instruction manual and raced outside. Well, race is a relative term right? I still had to put on 3 layers, top and bottom, my heavy muck boots, my gloves, etc.. Compared to the astronauts preparing for lift off, I was fast and I had my new camera in hand. I only had time for a few shots though, on auto focus, before commonsense kicked in and I realized how wet the snow was. I stopped then to bring the poor ponies in. In any case, here are the first few shots from my fancy camera! I'm super excited.

Meet Annie.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

The Thyme Log

So what do sane, reasonable people do when faced with the steep and slippery slope of a new learning curve? They double their load of course. 

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Relaxing

The warm weather has been lovely for everybody. I opened up all the barn doors to let in fresh air and light. This is what I found later when I walked into the barn. Tyche and her mom snoozing together in their stall.


Tyche is the fuzzy one in front. Though she looks ordinary-size here, it's just the angle. She is maayybe 36 inches in heels. Then again, she's not yet two. Her mom soars all the way to 11 or 12 hands. We're not sure how old mom is. Maybe four. Their origins are murky. They were on their way to Mexico with a broker, when I got roped brought them home. Mom is a project in herself, but that's a story for another day. BomBom, the little pinto, (who is eating dry hay again) came with them. A brother maybe? Possibly Tyche's dad. (Gelded now, in any case...)

Sweet ponies.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Bom Bom



This is BomBom.

A day or two ago, he stopped eating his hay.

I think he may have broken a tooth.

The first clue should have been the blood on one of his hind legs Saturday. I checked the leg out and couldn't figure out where the blood came from. The leg seemed fine.

Meanwhile, he's leaving all his hay on the ground, but acting hungry and gobbling up his handful of grain.

This morning there was a smear of blood on his front leg. Not a lot of blood, just a smear. Ah ha. He must have scratched an itchy leg with his teeth and left the blood behind.

I'm trying to figure out what the options are. He hasn't let me get a good look in his mouth yet. I may have to call the vet back out. This is the same pony who gashed himself on a sharp fence corner last month. Oy. Ponies.

The most immediate goal is to get some hay in him.  I put a half a flake in a pan to soak this morning.

At lunchtime he said,

"Finally."

Sucked down the soggy hay.

Stamped and pawed the pan.

"Now give me more."

Poor little guy was so hungry. Gotta fix his teeth.