Hot as Hades

Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.

I may have moved only 45 miles southeast, but it feels like we're roasting at the equator lately.  The soil is akin to beach sand, cacti thrive in it, everything else... not so much.

All creatures great and small have been suffering through 100 degree days.

Geovani and I used two pairs of clippers to give Titan a full body clip to provide him with some relief from the heat.

Abandoned baby wrens were in my custody.
Couldn't leave them for any stretch of time, so they traveled with me.
Including into stores.

Breaking a plethora of health codes at Publix!

Keeping the dogs from over heating isn't easy either.  

One idiot in particular would chase a squirrel across the Sahara.
Air conditioned pups.

Another idiot will gleefully go running in this heat without proper hydration.  Shall we mention her name?  

In my defense, it was the best run I've had since tearing my foot ligaments.  On the trails with my trusty running buddies-- heaven!  I was back at the barn at mile 8 when I unclipped Cole and attempted to sprint the half mile back to my house.  I made it to the end of my driveway before collapsing.  Here is a benefit of living in a sandy area:  soft landing.  I spent some quality time inspecting grains of sand up close until I felt well enough to raise myself onto my knees.  I was wavering around on all fours like a drunk dog when the farm manager drove up behind me.  It's a good thing I don't embarrass easily because I'd be perpetually mortified.  I declined to ride back home, preferring to walk should the need to puke arise suddenly.  Yeah, yeah, I know better, did I mention how much fun I had though?

I thoroughly enjoyed moving my horses back into the new pasture I've been fencing off for them. 

So far from anything that I have to haul water in for them.
They were temporarily quartered a 40 minute walk away.

I lead Bella and Angus, Axel simply followed.  It helped to have Pete herding from the back!

Removing two weeks worth of manure from their borrowed paddock was far less enjoyable.  Five hours later...many, many trailer fulls.  My compost pile doth grow large!

Hypocritical Me

Life in all its forms, I cherish and respect it.
Plant life:

All my transplants survived and are attempting to thrive.

Bird life:

All the torrential rain put an end to the Kingbird nest in my carport.  Five unhatched eggs, their second brood this year, all smashed on the ground.  They were trying to rebuild, but needed some engineering help.

Oh yes, I proceeded to shamelessly interfere with Mother Nature.  So sue me.

I offered a little structural support!

Offering some emotional support to Pete:

Ye old farm dog is suffering from PTSD  (Post Traumatic Shredding Disorder).  This canine termite chewed a door and two windows in his attempt to break out of the barn.  He was successful, BTW.

Where I lack respect:
Anything or anyone that can potentially hurt me, people around me, my horses, my cattle, my dogs and COLE (the kid who doesn't think he's a dog).

The severed head of a very large timber rattler.  Unfortunately for this remarkable specimen, he was lounging underfoot and a stone's throw away from my horses and the house.  We were trying to unload a shipment of pine straw.  Bad timing, dude.
Barney Fife and her 357 Magnum (not exactly the reason I'm always packing, but proves that you just never know):

I know, I know, I am a fashion maven... even went to the feed store dressed like this. They are my people, they put up with me.
We counted 14 rattles = years.  Such a pity to have to dispatch it, but not in my backyard...

Living with two dorks

When I drive the mule, the dogs all insist on riding on the front seat.  A couple of days ago, I had the windshield up and Garrett decided to leap out of my arms, over the dash and out onto the trail-- directly in front of the vehicle. By slamming on the brakes, I avoided completely squishing him, but he did receive a good conk on the noggin.  I doubt he learned his lesson.
Cole always wants to point while I'm driving.  As the concept of speed limits is lost on me, Cole can easily lose his balance and smack his chin on the dash, or possibly fall out.
After Garrett's suicide dive, I lost my patience and told Cole to SIT DOWN.  This is how he perched himself the remainder of that ride:

My freakin' genius!  I'm comforted by the fact that he's the biggest dork I know-- proves that could very well be genetically my child.

Celestial Descent

Don't you too wish you had an angel on speed dial?

Sorry to have to break this to you, but my guardian angel even travels with a posse:

Jason, Jon, Davis and Daniel, the names they use when they're here on Earth anyway...

My horses had seriously overgrazed an unimproved pasture that was allotted to us. Too many irons in the fire and no time or money available to rectify the problem. Until now. Weeks socking money away until Sunday when I hit speed dial:

Davis leading Bella.  Myself, Axel and Angus in the lead heading 1.5 miles to a temporary pasture.

Through the woods and on to a place with lush, green grass.
Meanwhile. the crew was methodically disassembling my previous temporary electric fencing.

It may not look like much, but this is a few thousand feet of neatly coiled electric tape.  When I originally borrowed this electric fence system, the tapes were rolled up into rat nest, it took hours to untangle them.  I still have nightmares about it.
To get ready to string new electric fence, I had to have 16 corner posts sunk and concreted in before my pit crew arrived. Tied up with other jobs, my farm assistants and I didn't start until noon on Saturday.

Farm Assistant #1, always there, ready to help or get under foot.
Farm Assistant #2, prefers mostly to watch me work from the comfort of the truck seat:

By the last post, I was getting delirious... dehydrated and fatigued from mixing 16 bags of concrete and pushing it around in a wheel barrow all over tarnation.

Dead and done.  I am a mere mortal after all, unlike the Angel Crew.  They try appear like normal humans in order to pass undetected.  I think they've perfected their Redneck accents:

You be the judge.
I should have heeded their warning, a bad storm was a comin'.  By the time I decided to shut down operations and bail, it was too late.  Driving the four wheeler the mile or so back to my house was a refreshing experience.  The rain was driving so hard, my eyes were burning.  Davis, driving the mule, should have been less soaked, but he had to raise the windshield because he couldn't see the trail. 
Drowned rats:

May they alight upon the farm next weekend!

Educating a Farm Dog

It's been a couple of weeks since a stray dog was plucked from a desperate situation.
I found Garrett living under a dock, surviving off frogs.

Day 1 out of Hell.
Day 2 off to the vet's for a makeover, including neutering.  Ouch!
Day 3:

He's a clever boy.  Housebreaking was a cinch.  He doesn't chew, nor bark.  He's still trying to get the hang of sleeping in a bed-- he fell out again last night.
He'll happily ride the four wheeler.

But, prefers the mule:

Getting a hang of riding in a vehicle was tricky.  Until he figured out that he couldn't jump out of the windshield, I was a very distracted driver.  Now, if he could only face forward!

Once per day, he's allowed to follow Cole, Pete and I to the horse pasture.  I ride my bicycle and tote buckets in my wagon.

He has the heart of a lion.  He tries so hard to keep up, but his emaciated frame is only beginning to fill out again.  Cole zooms past us at Mach 2, Pete has this quaint donkey trot and poor Garrett's legs look like wet noodles.  
Spaghetti Legs:

His first report card has all A+'s.  Our new farm dog fits right in here.

I recognize despair when I see it, but I always seek for a fire inside, a desire to live, even if it's down to a teeny flame.  It's said that you shouldn't project human emotions onto animals.  Whoever said that must have never looked into a creature's eyes and seen its soul.  When I was in college, I was beyond broke.  Scavenging in the dorm hall kitchen trash for stale bread was customary.  Slices of bread were coated in packets of ketchup or mustard, then I create an imaginary ham sandwich. The next bite could be turkey.  That's how I forced myself to choke down moldy bread and mustard.  I swore that I'd never be that desperate ever again.  When I look at my animals, I make them that same promise:  You'll never go hungry-- ever.
Garrett will never have to eat frogs again.  This morning, he had rabbit over his kibbles.  He has found his forever home.

Catering, anyone?

What happens when you give one crazy Canuck carte blanche over a catered event?

She has too much fun.

One rented camouflage tuxedo... Went well with my cottage crafted fishing awards:

Local driftwood to offset thrift store cups.  Chic, non?

Rolled out my smoker and cooked bourbon glazed chickens and spice rubbed pork loin.

Means were taken to sneak more nutrition into each meal. Organic everything...

Whole wheat bread:

Four bananas hidden in the chocolate chip oatmeal cookies.  Beets in the chocolate cake and icing.

OK, so there's nothing healthy about Nanaimo bars, but who the heck cares?

My girls tried their best to keep up with demand, but after three meals a day for a few days, I had to buy some eggs.

Amidst all the cooking and cleaning, I had a new  charges:

Seven horses and one clingy stray dog:

Not to mention the daily hikes to collect hay for the my livestock.  My last 1000 lb bale of hay, of it's own volition, went careening down into the ravine behind my house.  No accessing it from above.

Cole, equally stupefied as to the distance it traveled before coming to rest in the middle of the woods.

Fearless leader following my well beaten path to the bale.

Logistics:  drive four wheeler and wagon to entry point down on the trail, push wheelbarrow into the woods, unroll hay from bale, dump into wagon, repeat numerous times and twice a day.

FYI  new bales have been better secured.  I can find more enjoyable ways to get exercise!

My Cup Overfloweth

Life is perfect.  The rough patches are put there only to make you truly appreciate your life when you've emerged from the other side.  
I'm living out the dream life I'd imagined when I was 15. I'm on a gorgeous farm with my 3 horses, 1 ox, 1 dairy cow, 29 chickens and 1 dog with suicidal tendencies.  Yes, I speak of the Almighty Cole.  

He's decided that big boys don't ride on Mommy's lap on the four wheeler...that he's capable of running ahead.  The problem is that he out runs it and doesn't have the sense to stop.  This past week, I searched for him for an hour and a half.  By the time I found him, I was too emotionally spent to do more then tell him to get in the house.

On Saturday, he out shone himself.  Demonstrating his lack of sense-- for all to see.  I was busy trying to wrangle a new found stray dog at one end of the lake, while Cole was attempting suicide by crossing the widest portion of the lake.  
Last Fall, my team of guardian angels deemed that I needed an angel, in house.  They sent Davis.

A right hand man who knows how to work smart and how to lifeguard.  The latter being critical for Cole.  Davis recognized that Cole had run out of steam and was in danger.  He ditched his phone, wallet and shoes and went in after the submerging idiot.  
I gained a new starving dog full of ticks and scabs and almost lost my favorite within 15 minutes.  Sensory overload Saturday. 
The new farm dog is named Garrett.  No, I don't like typical names for pets.

He's in isolation until he's been vetted.  After that he'll fit right in.  He's #6 dog that is in my charge this weekend.
#1 Cole.
#2 Pete

#3 & 4 Katie and Bruce.

#5 Sadie.

And have I mentioned 7 new horses in my charge?  The former stable hand vacated her post last week and guess who lunged into her shoes?  The Lucky One, that's who!  Don't know how I'll find the time to take that job on too-- but don't care. 

Never quit, always work towards your goals.  As my dad says:  funny how the harder you work, the luckier you get.