Monday, September 29, 2008

Was this a murder scene?


While feeding my horses one morning, I looked down to see this. What was that sticking out of a lizard den? The Mexican whip tail lizards dig holes for dens in the soft sandy soil. I pulled it, broke the connection, so I put it back like this to take the picture. I knew my children would be interested in my latest specimen finding.


When I pulled the rest out of the lizard den, this is what appeared: a lizard skeleton! I thought of it as a murder scene. Who had done this deed? Are lizards eaters of other lizards? Had the lizard been injured, sought shelter, and the ants cleaned the carcass? I took the carcass and poured vinegar on it to try and clean it up for my specimen colletion, but it kind melted. I do still have the little tail bones though. I love bones. I wish I could look at it with a microscope.


Back at the beginning of the summer in June, a friend called me to ask if I'd heard about the rescue horses here in our town. I said no, but was curious. My friend didn't know much, but she said she'd heard there was an Arabian in the bunch. I have an Arabian, so this made me very curious. I did some more calling around and learned that it was actually a herd of Spanish mustangs that a local lady had, about 27 in all I think. They weren't all Spanish mustangs, but the majority were. In fact, she didn't live but a few miles from us, and we often passed her place going into town. As it turned out, she was not a mentally well person, didn't feed the horses enough, the water was broken, and the horses often went days without water. Our local animal control officer, a real hero, after trying to work with the lady to take care of her horses, finally organized a legal rescue. It was quite an effort. From what I understand, the owner had bought a herd dispersal, never had the stud cut, and he ran with the mares. It was very hard getting him loaded into the trailer. Most of the horses weren't used to being handled. I learned where the horses were being kept after the rescue and decided to go take a look. This mare was close to the fence by the highway. She was obviously beat up. The pen they were in wasn't that big, but it was the only place available to keep the mamas with new babies. The other horses were in other pens. My heart went out to her. I came back a few days later and went into the pen and offered her some hay pellets by hand. Baby was about a week old. I came back again with my husband. The mare remembered me. She allowed me to halter her, she lead a little, let me pick up her feet. I volunteered to adopt her. It was not until 3 months that the litigation was over and I was allowed to bring her home. I decided to name her Dover for her white eyelashes. I took her because I thought I could make her a part of my herd, that she wouldn't be a mean dominant, pissy mare. Dove is about 5 years old. I named her colt foal Max, after my husband. I like to say his name, Max.


Her hide was all bitten by the more agressive mares.


This was as close as we could get to the baby.


This is the next morning, day one, at my place, 3 months later on Sept. 11, the day before the hurricane Ike hit the Tx. coast, after I brought them home. I brought them up into the yard to graze for a little while. Her skin looked dehydrated. Although getting food where she was after the rescue, she was lowest on the herd pole and stressed. Her coat was rough. She'd been wormed twice. She loaded and unloaded just fine getting her to my place. I have been keeping her in a large corral that I have so I can do some work with her and gentle baby down. He was very shy. You can imagine what a new adventure this was for him, having been born at the livestock yard and then kept in a pen with 6 other mares with young babies--no room to run and play, pissy mamas biting his mama. Isn't he cute? I have to remind myself each time I go into the corral to assume calm, assertive energy to work with him. It is so satisfying now to be able to handle him, thanks to the feed bucket. I started out holding his own little bucket by mama, touching his muzzle with one finger. If he wanted to eat, he had to submit to being touched. What a mile stone when my husband started touching him with his whole hand. He gentled down quickly. Still a little shy, but that's ok. He's not been here even 3 weeks yet.


At first baby Max stuck like glue to Mama, but the feed bucket would soon tame him down. I can now put a halter on him, and with the help of the feed bucket, he is learning to lead, back, move sideways. So far, so good. I do keep a close eye on that hiney. I do not trust foal hineys. Do you?


Dove relishing her own bucket. No competition. So far, she's been gentle at feed time. Even though Max gets a small amount, it takes him a while to eat, so she usually finishes before he does. But if I push her away, she respects it and doesn't get pushy. I appreciate this about Dove. She may change over time, but I hope she stays gentle. She's ignorant, but I think that will improve with time. I had a new farrier out to do her feet on day 10, and it was bit of a rodeo. He was firm but patient, and she ended up submitting to having her feet done. Her feet could be a lot worse.
On the other side of Dove is my friend, Erica, a refugee from Hurricane Ike. She called from Houston the morning of Sept. 12 to say she was coming to stay with me after deciding not to ride out the hurricane. She loaded up her Prius with important stuff, including her 18 year old cat, Hecate, and she came to the TX hill country to stay with me for 5 days. It was wonderful seeing her after so many years (my college room mate) and sharing the new horses with her.


One day we went to town in Erica's Prius. When she went back to Houston, she didn't use the air conditioning, and she said she used under $10 worth of gas. Now, if they could just transfer that to a truck, wouldn't that be great?


Tinky with her yum-yum getting ready to go to town with us. Tinky's favorite place to eat is in my truck going somewhere. A Prius will do in place of a truck.


Here come Erica and Gyp up from feeding the rescues.


I had this one set on my desk top last week.


This is why I named her Dove, for her white eyelashes.


He stays close to mama, but that is where the feed bucket is also.


As you can see, little Max is gaining confidence.


Mama Dove still looking scrawny but improved. Those spots used to be dimmer, and she had little coloring on her face.


Hey, wait a minute!


Good-bye. Do you have to leave? Are you sure there isn't more yummy?