Say Hello to Joe

Let me tell you a story about a dog.  A little and lovely dog who we discovered a tattoo on when he was getting his pre-neuter hair cut.  A lot of speculation surrounded this dog.  Where did he come from?  What's his breeding?  What happened to shape his behavior?  Why is he so skittish around people?  And now I know.  I know Gunner's story.  Except his name isn't Gunner.  His name is Joe.  And I have the Canadian Border Collie Association papers to prove it.

For the first five years of his life Joe (Gunner) lived with a family.  He mostly lived in a dog run to keep the other dogs safe (from pregnancy) but he got to help the rancher's wife do chores.  He'd ride in the box of the truck or run beside the mule (like a quad) and when they got to where the cattle were penned, he (with virtually no training) would help her by doing things like moving the bulls off the troughs so she could fill them.  He was a good dog who played with the family's kids and occasionally got into trouble for killing kittens.

When this family heard of a local rancher and hired hand was out a dog and needed something to help him move cattle, they gave Joe away, with the belief that Joe would work well for this person.  Eventually they heard that the rancher didn't like Joe and Joe was no longer there.  When one night a breeding client dropped off a mare and they got to talking about Border Collies.  Can you see where this story is going?

You guessed it.  I have Joe.  When I described some of his quirks they were shocked.  The Joe they know didn't act like that!  So - it wasn't Joe's previous owners that wrecked him.  It was the one I got him from.  You remember - the one who was going to shoot him because he wouldn't even look at a cow.  The one who said some rancher dropped off for him to try.  Not even close!  He went and picked up the dog.  

So Brad and I, as best as we can figure, think that Grant did something nasty to Joe.  After all, what else would cause a keen dog to stop working stock?  And have some serious trust issues with humans?  You do the math - I sure did!

On an interesting side note - Joe is related to Tessa.  Joe's mother is Tessa's maternal grandmother, and his father is a litter mate to her maternal grandfather.  Pretty cool what a small world it is.

Vet Check

Whiskey had her 15 day vet check on Saturday.  When you breed a mare it's a good idea to have your vet ultrasound at 15 days (from last breeding) to check to make sure everything is alright.  Unfortunately everything was not all right.  Whiskey had twins - which are not good for horses to carry.  Sam tried to "pinch" one off but couldn't get them to separate.

This morning Sam was back to check to see how the fetus was doing, to double check there was only one in there.  This morning it was gone.  Fully and completely.  What Sam thinks happened is when we vet checked on Saturday Whiskey's body had already recognized that something wasn't right and had begun the process of absorbing or tossing it out.  

What this means is that my once pregnant mare is no longer pregnant.  I will once again be hauling her to the stallion's to try again for a healthy and viable pregnancy.  The good news is we know that Whiskey will catch when bred.  The bad news is that she seems to like to make twins.

Auction Reality

The day dawned overcast and windy.  Bundling up in a long sleeve blouse and my winter jacket I went out to give Buddy a final brush then load him up.  Auction day had arrived.  We (mom came with me) arrived at the market at 10:15, by 11:15 he was finally at the front of the processing line.  After we got him settled in his pen mom and I took a walk through the pens.  

It was a horrifying experience for me.  The understanding of how my standard of care and other people's standard of care differed truly struck home.  The pen of horses who had been run off the stock trailer that included a new born foal (complete with umbilical stump) cramped into a corral, all seemingly wild.  The yearlings whose ribcages and backbones stuck out like a musical instrument, who still had their winter coats hanging in patches off their sides.  The stallion with the hocks the size of basketballs.  The gelding with the foot long scar on his haunches.  The sad faced 4-H girl who had to choose two of her horses to bring because they had no more pasture.

My heart cracked in two as I meandered through row after row of horses.  Stunned I watched as trailer after trailer pulled in to be unloaded.  In all, mom and I figured there were about 400 head of horses at the auction many with outstanding pedigrees, some with incredible amounts of training.  

Buddy outclassed many of the horses there so I was feeling somewhat optimistic.  I had put a reserve on him as a safety measure when I saw all the horses, but didn't really think I'd need it.  Sitting by the ring I watched to first saddle horses sell.  For $300.00!!!!  Yikes!  I rationalized it as they were not quarter horses and as such didn't sell as well as they should have.  Until the lovely well broke, sound, sane and papered rope horse went for $1000.  At that point I started to pay attention pretty closely.  Registered horses with good lines were selling for the $500 -1000 mark.  

When the first lead horses entered and exited the ring I knew there was going to be a strong likelihood that Jeanne would get her wish.  Buddy would be coming home with me.    Horses were going for meat for 3-400 dollars.  Discovering there were still over 100 head of horses before Buddy's turn in the ring I decided to turn out and bring him home.  The entire experience was horrific.  With the drought in the region people were dumping horses left, right and center.  More horses ended up headed towards the slaughter house than found new homes.  

Plan B: figure out what is causing Buddy to act like a wing nut, solve the problem and get some serious time put into him.  Incidentally, he behaved awesome today and generated quite a bit of interest.  I also met a cowboy who rides at a feedlot who, once I figure out what Buddy's issue is, I think will take him to put some serious miles on him.  And with the high possibility of Buddy and I still not getting along he'll likely be headed towards a performance sale in the fall.  

Tattoo Fun

It's been a treat and a half trying to figure out what Gunner's tattoo reads.  First off he's a bit skittish and it takes some coordination and muscle strength to get his wildly gyrating body to lie still enough to see his groin area.  Secondly, the letters and numbers are in a strange formation and distorted.

I would really like to find out this dog's history, his lines and where he came from including who's the listed owner on his certificate.

Horse Lust

I have a serious case of horse lust.  I'm trying to be strong and regularly tell myself to be practical.  But it's really hard!  I desperately want to have some of Yeller's relatives.  Yes, Whiskey will have a baby that's related to Yeller but it's not the same.  I would love to have his half sister, even though she hasn't been handled much, and is not really suitable for an acerage operation.  I would also love to have one of the yearlings.  Yes, even though I already have a yearling.  And it would be time and money consuming to have two same aged babies to get started.  Yes, I know I should be learning from the Buddy debacle and look at aged trained horses.  

But I don't want too!  I've decided based on my years of horses that Buddy is not a reliable indicator of the young horse experience.  I'll keep telling myself to walk away.  We'll see how well my resolve lasts through the summer.

In the pictures:  (yes - sorry once again - they're not the best) the light gray filly is the one I like.  The dark grey filly in the group shot is a granddaughter of Fitz and the sorrel is Fitz (who's due to foal).

Scenes From Farm Life

Bella was in love with the lambs.  This little one would climb out the fence and hang with her.  She would lick it's face and smile her doggy smile.

Bunter was very weak when he was born.  We ended up using a dropper and milking his mom so we could feed him.  He didn't have enough strength to suck.  This is a stronger Bunter enjoying his milk replacement treat.  (Mom didn't have enough milk.)

This little guy always looked like he was smiling.  Cute little farts, aren't they?

Buddy and Roxy enjoying some freedom in the field.

Love

It's funny how absence can make the heart grow fonder.  I had not realized how attached I had grown to Whiskey until her trip to the stallion's.  Whiskey and I had a bit of a rocky start.  I fully believed she was a wonderful horse but she was not an easy horse to ride for the first few years (and even now).  Partly because of how she was started she had some issues we needed to work through and they were just that - work.  

She was the horse that would buck you off if you didn't pay attention to what she was telling you.  She went through a stage where she had some tantrums and displayed her unhappiness very clearly.  But that horse for the most part is gone.  The Whiskey that remains wants to please you.  If she understands what you're asking she'll consistently do it for you.  This is the horse that would work through pain or injury if you asked it of her (and I don't).  

For the first few years I owned her I hemmed and hawwed about selling her.  I never did end up listing her.  I think my procrastination was my heart trying to tell my mind that she was a keeper.  Part of the problem is she started out as my rope horse prospect and then when I couldn't rope I didn't know what to do with her.

When I pulled into the stallion's yard and I saw her standing there with her head over the fence watching, my heart about leaped out of my chest.  It was one of those a-ha! moments.  I love this horse.  I really, fully and completely adore her.  She has her faults but I felt so much pleasure just standing beside her scratching her head.  As she nosed my neck and head, I breathed in her horsey smell and felt stress release from my body.  Everything was suddenly better.

I couldn't imagine not having her in my life.  I'm hoping and praying that we'll be able to find the problem in her leg and get her sound again so I can enjoy her spunk and athleticism.  And if we can't, she'll remain under my care having the odd baby.