Orphan Flipper Update

Daddy Dun Flipped- January 25, 2007 to October 18, 2008

Daddy Dun Flipped aka "Flipper" was put down on October 18, 2008 for a broken tibia. I will greatly miss this lanky and loving horse. While I was only able to enjoy him for a year and a half, he was a lot of fun. Flipper was orphaned at 2 weeks old and I became his surrogate dam. He grew up to be a great yearling. During his short life he did earn a few honors in the show pen. He was the CONQHA stallion stakes futurity reserve champion lounge liner. He also was the SDQHA 2008 reserve high point lounge line horse. But best of all he was my silly horse that always made me laugh like the time I was lounging him and he tripped and fell down. Rather than jump back up, he proceeded to take a nice roll and then sit up like a dog. Instead of then getting up, he proceeded to tip back over on his side and take a siesta. He was going to enoy a nap in the black dirt under the warm spring sun. I have so many stories of Flipper. Thank you Flipper for letting me learn to braid on your long neck. You were such a patient yearling and you had such a long neck. I wish I could have taken you for a hunt seat ride. I wish I could have seen your full potential.

Proudest Moments

If you are a parent you probably can relate that your proudest moments involve your children. Things your children do greatly out shadow anything you may have done in your glory days, like throwing the winning touch down, placing at the AJQHA (American Junior Quarter Horse Association- the name AQHYA used to be called, I still have the coat with the old acronym) World Show, going to the National High School Rodeo. None of these things can compare to the pride that wells inside us from the actions of our children. It isn’t that their feats are so much greater than ours, but viewed through the rose colored glasses of parenthood, nothing can compare to what they do. The proud parents’ buttons burst at the first steps, the first words, the first games, the first prom, the first grandchild. Our hearts swell in pride at the smallest things our children do. On the flip side, yes, our children do embarrass us too and when they become teenagers we suddenly embarrass them beyond belief, and our intelligence greatly decreases, but that is another story.

The proudest memories I have of my children did not occur in public events, however. My proudest moments are quiet events that few people know about. These moments are often shared only between a few people, but that doesn’t make them any less memorable, rather they are even more memorable. The proudest moments are not winning rides in the show pen, graceful dance performances, or breathtaking bull rides, even though I must say I have swelled with pride watching my kids do these things. My proudest moments with my children have been watching them interact with others showing the utmost compassion and empathy. Finding out that my college age son took the time to call and visit with a family friend whose father had just died. As he told me, “I didn’t really know what to say, but knew I should call and say something.” Welcome to adulthood. As he learned, it is not what you say, but the fact that you took the time to show you care. Finding out your preteen daughter offered to help someone that looked like they needed help. While it wasn’t building a house for Habitat For Humanity, it was the recognition of a fellow human being in need of a helping hand and doing something about it. It certainly would have been easy to just walk on by, but she took the initiative to see if help was needed. Her heart was certainly in the right place. These are not just isolated examples, but two that really made me proud. Only a handful of people know about these events. Nobody won a belt buckle, a state champion trophy, or a full ride scholarship, but they still top my proudest moments. These are the kind of actions that go unseen most of the time, yet are the source of my greatest pride in my children.

While we should feel proud of our children’s and our own special accomplishments, we should remember that how we interact with each other, whether winning or losing, is what is really important. Twenty years from now very few people will remember who won the class, the state championship, or even the world championship, but people will remember how you treated other people. People will remember the phone call, or the offer of help. That is why I am a proud parent.

The Wind Down

For most of South Dakota, our "regular season" games have come to an end. The kids are back in school, the days are getting shorter, and the broodmares are getting fatter. The pastures are starting to show their wear and the insects are holding out for their last hurrah until the frost will officially shift us into another season. The end of horse show season finds me thankful for the break and yet a bit restless for more. Ready to pack away the show stuff, yet itching to have just one more ride in the show pen. When you take a break from an activity tired, but thirsting for more, you know you have hit the right blend of still loving what you are doing, but being comfortable sitting out some games.

Normally I don't pack away the show season quite so soon, but surgery put a little hitch in my plans for this year. Now I have just been searching October, like an addict, for maybe one more show in a neighboring state because I have been given the go ahead to resume riding the middle of October. For me the horse show "post season" is a great time to reflect on the year by identifying the areas of weakness of my riding, my horse, and my training plan, celebrating the accomplishments of the season, and setting my goals for the next year. Fall is also the time where I like to hit the wet saddle blankets the hardest in trying to work on something new like adding a new class or maybe even starting to learn new riding style such as dressage. In the fall it is easier for me to focus on the training. No worries about keeping horsy coats ready for the weekend (folks I have that especially tough showing the nearly white horse), cleaning the chaps, shaping the hat, packing the trailer. With none of those things to worry about I can concentrate on the training and my riding. I love going out to ride in the fall when the air is just starting to become crisp and the insects have gone away. It is only sad that in South Dakota those conditions for riding sometimes don't last very long until the snow falls and we are forced back into our four walled artificially lit riding spaces.

I hope everyone in South Dakota enjoys their wind down to fall. Good luck to all the area horseman competing in the "post season" events and I hope to see you all at the various association banquets this fall and winter.

Mac's New Foal

Our broodmare Mac foaled early in the morning on January 18th during one of the harshest cold snaps of South Dakota. She had a beautiful filly with cute head markings. You can see her pictures at our website. She is red dun right now but has a lot of white hairs around her eyes so she is destined to turn gray. During the first two days of her life she refused to lay down. She would only stand. I could see she was getting very tired so on day three I made her lay down. At first she fought it but after I stroked her shoulder for a bit she fell soundly asleep. It took a few more laying down lessons but now she seems willing to lay down on her own. I have never had a foal refuse to lay down. Hopefully another mare will foal soon so she can have foal company.

Horse Owners Must Be Crazy

A friend of mine sent me a quote she found on the Internet-"Surgeon General’s Warning: Horses have been found to be expensive and addictive and have further been shown to impair the use of common sense in humans." I found the timing of this email to be rather ironic as I opened it while yawning after night three of broodmare checks. It is only my precious horses that I will wake up for and check in the middle of a night of blissful slumber. Okay, that is not entirely true. I have also been known to wake up when my kids or husband are sick during the night or when our cat proceeds to knock something down as he does whatever it is cats do at night besides sleep.
The past three nights have found me waking up at 2:00 AM to put on my stinky barn coveralls, wool socks, stocking cap, and gloves, all over my very attractive Pj's of a t-shirt and long johns, grabbing a flashlight as to not disturb the horses by turning on the barn lights, walking to the barn in the negative temperatures of a South Dakota winter, quietly opening the barn door (only to step on a sleeping barn cat that shrieks in terror defeating my sneaking), carefully shining the flashlight on the mares to find them still in blissful slumber able to ignore the shriek from the cat as it climbed my leg like a tree (thank God I had on coveralls), and finally then going in each mare's stall to feel their udder to check for waxing. A form of a horsey grope that only a horse lover and breeder can appreciate because we have carefully monitored our mares through the years and have recorded the length of time we have noticed between when the wax first appears and the mare foals. My kid's baby book may still be unassembled in a box, but meticulous records can be found on a spreadsheet noting the foaling histories of each mare.
Horses are associated with addictive behavior? Nah! It is amazing how the uneventful checks that take only about fifteen minutes can leave me yawning, but the nights I lose hours of sleep watching a foal be born, watching it try to stand, and then watching it successfully nurse I can rise and face the day with vigor and excitement.
I wish to add a line to the fictitious Surgeon General warning, "Horses have also been know to make one feel incredible and alive!" Happy foaling to everyone making those checks to the broodmare barn in the months to come. Watch out for those barn cats!

Poop Scoopin' Boogie

“Here we go, dosey-do, come on baby push that wheel barrow. Cadillac, Black-Jack, baby meet me out back we’re goin’ muckin’. Doin’ the poop scoopin’ boogie.” I have read that the average horse excretes about fifty pounds of waste each and every day. I really think that my horses have found a way to defy the scientific law of conservation of mass. They somehow create matter that I am obligated to scoop up and remove in a timely fashion. Output seems to exceed input, or have I just forgotten all the input? Let’s see, five pounds of oats and corn, twelve pounds of hay, ten gallons of water that is about seven pounds per gallon, half the straw bale I bedded the stall with the night before that it felt compelled to eat during the night, and half a wooden plank (not sure if all of the plank was consumed or if some was destroyed in a tiff with our neighbor during the night) makes up most of the input. Output consists of two wheelbarrows full of muck, one wheelbarrow full of wooden splinters, and half a water bucket of a stinky mixture of water, oats, hay, and a road apple or two.
Input equals output? Either way, it is my and my family’s sweat that has hauled it in, oats, straw, wooden planks, water buckets, water; and it is my sweat along with my two indentured servants (that’s the catchy name my kids like to call themselves in the barn) that have hauled it out. Oh, I can’t forget my husband’s contribution to this endeavor. He drives the tractor baling hay. He uses the loader tractor to scoop up the manure I have hauled out of the barn by hand and dumps it into the manure spreader. And he then has to drive the tractor and spreader across the field. His manual labor consists of running the hydraulic levers and engaging the PTO lever. I worry he may get carpal tunnel.
The poop scoopin boogie requires the right tools- wheel barrow, five tine fork, and rake; the right attitude- just think of the fine workout I am getting without paying the health club price; and the right company- quality time with my friends and family where we talk while scoopin’ muck and pushin’ wheel barrows. Want to get to know your what your teen is thinking? Clean eight stalls regularly with them. They initially protest and decide not to speak to you, but by stall two the silence is broken and you soon learn about their day at school, how things are going with their friends, and what their plans are. It is even okay for a hug because you both smell like horse manure so neither notice.
Sometimes the poop scoopin’ boogie is done as a solo act, usually in the middle of rodeo season or right before the big dance recital. But poop scoopin’ solo is okay too. After a long day at work that is more mind tiring than body tiring, poop scoopin can be therapeutic. You fall into a rhythm of scoopin’, raking, and pushing and soon your mind wanders since not a lot of thinking goes into stall mucking. You have time to reflect and think. You can contemplate what you have done or need to do. If you need to release some anger or frustration you can throw the scoop a little harder on the wheelbarrow. You can practice that tough talk you need to have with your boss out loud. Horses make great listeners. Or you can turn up the radio and sing out loud while you work. The horses won’t mind, but if the dog starts to whine you may need to tone it down a bit.
I guess I should thank my horses for the 50 pounds a day. It allows me to bond with my kids, get a work out, and contemplate life. And my dear husband, thank you too. I know there is far more that you do then just run the tractor. Thank you to my kids, sister-in-law, and brother for all your help doin’ the poop scoopin’ boogie.