Blue Heron Farm Alpacas

Lets see -- what momentous events have happened in the months and months since I updated this blog with news of the amazing kitten rescue? Mostly arrivals, actually -- the animal population continues to grow.

But first, a little background: I have been working with Camille, a friend and horse trainer, to improve my riding skills and the horses' cooperation quotient. She usually comes over once a week, and after doing some ground work, we would get on Windsong and Chesapeake and do some work under saddle. Chess was solid as a rock, but Windsong continued to have prancy, side-steppy, diva-ish episodes, which are daunting to me as a rider and which I had attributed to her high-strung temperament. But after an episode where the horse reared up and went over backward (Camille managed to roll free and was not injured at all), we decided to re-visit the situation. Consulting with Jeff, the former trainer, and Mary, the farrier, we decided that Windsong's right front foot, which we knew had been injured in the past, had never completely healed, and when too much pressure is put on it (Camille had been leaning down over it to open a gate when the incident happened) or she steps on it wrong, there is pain and she reacts to the pain. So she has been retired from riding and will enjoy her status as lawn art alongside her buddy Quicksilver.

And that's how Blue Heron Farm developed an opening for a new riding horse. I found a listing on Craigslist for a black gelding, which a local woman had rescued skinny and covered with rain rot, had put some weight back on, got the coat to grow in and now wanted to find him a new home so she could take in another. She called him Moose, I call him Barry or Bear, and I brought him home the day after I first met him in early February. She said he was easy to bridle and saddle, and she had had no problems at all leading him around with her kids on board, but that when she got on him, she felt he had issues, and she didn't want to do a lot of training. A perfect project for me and Camille, I thought! Well, four months have passed and he's an angel when you're on the ground with him. Get on his back, however, and his attitude instantly changes to "Make me!" Sigh. So he's still a work in progress.

Our pair of geese returned shortly after Bear's arrival, again nesting on the little island in the middle of the pond. Is it the same pair as springs 2008 and 2007? Who knows?  Perhaps the same pair, perhaps a pair that includes one of last year's goslings. After they'd been here a few weeks, another pair arrived, but did not lay or nest. The first pair was quite stand-offish to the second, especially after the five goslings hatched. By now, the babies are practically grown and, as happened last year and the year before, their number is reduced to four. But it wasn't my fault! I saved them! One afternoon my neighbor Garland was mowing the pasture for me (it's called bush-hogging). This involves a tractor, a bush-hog device and a lot of racket, but still I was surprised to discover that the geese -- the goslings were still quite small at that point -- had retreated to the alpaca paddock next to the barn, far from the water. I was talking to Garland when I saw Dolly come tearing out of the barn, barking, going after the geese. I ran around the pond, hollering,"No Dolly!" at the top of my voice, but before I got there she had one of the babies in her mouth. My arrival, screaming and waving, caused her to drop it (unharmed) and I managed to get ahold of her and put her in a stall. Rescue accomplished! I kept her confined until Garland was finished and the birds returned to the pond and safety. Soon they will all fly off  to a destination unknown.

My friend Pam visited over Memorial Day weekend, just a couple of weeks after the mare next door gave birth to a beautiful little filly.

Almost as adorable is the tiny tractor I acquired from Garland for the purpose of pulling the manure spreader. (I know, I know, I can pull the manure spreader with the lawn mower -- but could you resist this particular piece of vintage equipment -- shown with Pam at the wheel?)

We drove it across the road to Phoebe's, where we picked up several loads of pine needles to use for mulch in the garden. As Phoebe was pitch-forking the needles into the little cart she lent us, one forkful included a sizable black snake, impaled, which caused loud shrieks all around.  Now, black snakes are good guys, I'm told. They eat rodents and fend off their poisonous cousins, the copperheads and cottonmouths (also native to this area). But Phoebe hates snakes of all colors and stripes, and so to our surprise and distress, she went inside, got her shotgun, came back and blasted it. She then heaved the carcass into a distant tree, explaining that that would cause it to rain. Sure enough, it rained that night.

And then, a few days after Pam went back to her civilized life in San Francisco, the guinea hen, who had been sitting on about two dozen eggs for at least a month, managed to hatch some. About ten keets (as baby guineas are called), I think, made it completely or part-way out of their shells; by the second day six were alive and looked viable; the final survival count was five. Wisely (not a trait guineas are known for), Mama had nested in the stall where I keep feed and water for the birds; the egg-loving dogs can't get into that stall, and those same dogs would keep other predators from coming into the barn (or at least that's the theory). The cats, of course, can get anywhere, but so far have shown little interest. Mama guinea is fairly intimidating. The keets are about five weeks old (the picture shows four of them a week or ten days ago), now about the size of robins, and today for the first time, they were out in the real world. (They must have learned how to fly up to the window or the top of the stall door.) I feel trepidatious about this development  -- can/will the adult guinea flock protect them? Or are they going to be picked off by hawks, owls and other predators? Stay tuned!

It's now July 4, the next day, and last night was not a good night for guineas. At the barn this morning I saw Mama, Papa and three keets -- two were MIA. And then when I took the dogs out, I realized that one of the other adults -- the gimpy white one -- had been killed in the street. (Cleanup on Flint Ridge Road!) And finally, back at the barn, I discovered the two missing keets drowned in the horses' big water tub. (Which I emptied -- let them use the stall buckets until the birds get some common sense!)  But the good news is that Mama, Papa and  three babies survived another whole day. We'll see what tomorrow brings! (Also: the tomatoes have started to ripen so soon I will be inundated with tomatoes in addition to the zucchini which is already stashed in the fridge and passed off on the neighbors.)

Tonight Phoebe's reckless son-in-law puts on his annual fireworks display, and I'm stoked. I love fireworks and these are up close and personal. Happy 4th!