Meanwhile, back at the Ranch..

(Warning: if talk about veterinary procedures, loss of (avian) life, the stuff that comes out of the back end of a horse when you put hay in the front, etc. is going to bother you, don't read this post.)

There are days when I question my choice of lifestyle. I don't actually know where my desire to live out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trees, grass, and wild things came from. We moved around a lot when I was a kid (Army dependent), but we always lived in a city, or at least a big town, and usually in an apartment. Maybe it's just my basic anti-social nature.

But yesterday was one of those days when I questioned it hard. The new vet showed up about 11:00 am to give my horses all their shots, take blood for Coggins test, and geld my colt. My husband had tried to warn me that "country vets" are a little different, but I don't think I was really prepared for the reality. My yearling colt was down and out and his testicles were laying out on the grass before I really got a handle on what was happening. But before we got to that point, Ringo (2 yo mastiff/pit mix) had pushed open the storm door I forgot to secure and charged out to see who these strangers on his turf were. Luckily neither the vet or his assistant, Otis (yep, real name), had a 'thing' about pits but it was still embarassing. Then, while my colt was still asleep, Ringo got out the other storm door and was trying to make a hole in the screened porch big enough to get out of. Back into the house to put him inside and close that door. After half an hour during which the vet patiently waited for my baby to be ready to get up (must give him credit for that and he wasn't being paid by the hour), we got him back up on his feet. The first thing he did was poop, right where he was standing, and then he was ready to walk with only a slight wobble. As I stood there cringing, watching the blood drip off of what looked like a patch of raw meat, the vet seemed unconcerned and merely told me to make sure he got some exercise every day for two weeks or he'd "swell up."

On to my mare, who was somewhat uncooperative and promptly got twitched. Man, that looked like it hurt... Otis was twisting that chain around her lip for all he was worth. He gave her her shots, drew blood for the Coggins, and "floated" her teeth inside of 15 minutes and on to the gelding. Tucker, my "rescue" horse who's been previously abused and was so head shy when I got him that I couldn't even pet him, was a champ. I told him "good boy" and "it's okay" and he just stood there and let the vet draw blood and give the shots. Good boy indeed! He did have to have a twitch for the dental work, but Otis was easier on him than on the mare since he was being cooperative.

Then it was all over with and time for the part that really hurt - paying the bill. Actually, it wasn't too bad compared to what the other fancy vet would have charged me for the same services, so maybe I can live with the total lack of "bedside manner," sense of humor, friendliness, etc.

So I put the horses up and, after watching for a while to make sure the colt would stay on his feet, I went on about other chores. First I went to clean up the colt's poop and the surgical "leavings" only to find my chickens playing keep-away with them! The chickens can run faster than I, so there was nothing for it but to let them eat poor 'Dancer's "jewels" even though it really bothered me for some reason.

I took the horses out to graze on lead ropes, out through the round pen gate which is at the opposite end of their enclosure from the house, and when I returned to the house I couldn't find Ringo. He was outside the dog yard! Assuming he'd busted out of the storm door again, I scolded him and put him back in. Another hour or so later, I heard a chicken squawking like it was being killed and discovered that it was - Ringo was out again, and this time I knew he'd gotten out of the yard because I had latched the storm door. Taking a stick to my errant dog convinced him to let go of the chicken, which ran off missing quite a few feathers. I put him back in the yard and found the place he'd been getting out, but on my way to deal with that I found another of my chickens dead. Now, this is like the 4th chicken he's killed, and no amount of my disapproval seems to deter him, so I decided to try the old farmer's remedy: I got a rope, tied the dead chicken around his neck, and left him in the back yard to consider his sins.

After hopefully dealing with my dog, I went to feed the horses and discovered I didn't have any. After letting them back in via the front gate, I'd forgotten to secure the round pen gate! So out on the 4-wheeler looking for them. After going a good mile in every direction and not being able to find them, I was ready to cry. Finally I went around to the neighbor's to ask if they'd seen them, and there they were, in the neighbor's back yard eating the lawn. With only a bit of fuss because they knew perfectly well it was almost time for their evening feed of grain, I got them back home and secured all the gates.

I then went back to check on Ringo and found him eating the chicken!! So much for the old farmer's remedy. This day was by then really getting to be a bit much. I removed the chicken, put Ringo in the house with all the doors closed, fed the horses, and settled in to watch The Sarah Jane Adventures and Dr. Who. For the rest of the night I'll just pretend I'm a normal person living in a normal household....

I wanted to live out here in the country and have chickens and horses and geese and dogs why?