The girls are doing well. Hope (Echo is of the opinion she needs a name like Nadea - Russian for Hope, or Esperanza - Spanish for Hope, to give her more elegance) let me walk up to her in the pasture and put my arm around her. A first for her!
Dulci is sprouting new hair like a freshly sown and fertilized grass patch. Her bald areas are soft and no longer scaly and making dandruff snow. It was a tough week for her. She really was going down hill in a hurry. She is bright eyed and frisky again and the worst seems to be over.
I never saw any live lice on her, but I did find nits (the eggs on the ends of the hair) and spent several hours combing her with a nit comb. I used a pour on insecticide for lice (fleas and ticks as well) to kill any adults. All the symptoms pointed to a lice infestation. Results can be unthiftiness (check), rubbing of the neck, face, flanks and rump (check) and anemia. With all she had been through, they were draining the last of her resources.
I added a week’s worth of antibiotics to her recovery as well.
I have taken more showers than I care to count. Each trip to feed and groom would leave me with imaginary (god, I hope imaginary) creepy crawlies, and I could not wait to get to the shower. Horse lice are host specific and will not live on anything else. While they might be finding out I am not a good host, I thought they should learn to swim.

I put the tables up and struggled with a 3 foot by 10 foot sheet of plastic that would bend and droop at the worst times. I cleaned the old reside from the surface, gave the entire thing a cleaning and prepped the paint. This was to have a yellow background with red, black and green lettering. I decided to not do the painting in the garage like usual, and do it in the big room where the dust was more under control while the paint dried. The garage is still not rearranged from a long winter of repairs and tracked in mud, so it seemed the best to work in the cleaner area. As I finished the last smoothing roll of the base coat, I thought to myself “I need to close the door between so the cat does not get in here.” I bagged my roller for use for the second side and closed up the paint can and the phone rang. Needless to say, as I talked, I did several other small chores and cleaned up from the painting. I ran some photocopies Jim needed and burned another DVD of photos of the Parelli clinic for a participant. The phone rang again. And again. By now I had decided to ride the bike to the motor bank and to get the mail and as I passed the sign to take the bike out, this is what I found. I was right. That door should be closed to keep the cat out. She has one yellowish paw and no other “signs” of her curiosity except the evidence left at the scene of the crime. She is asleep in her chair now, in a failed attempt at innocence.

The early May morning sky was cloudless and bright blue. A late frost sparkled on the green grass and a cool haze floated in the valleys and creek beds. The sun had just appeared in an answer to the coaxing of the singing birds.
The night before, we had let the fillies out of the round corral and into the three acre pasture. They had earned their pasture privileges. I was up early that morning to see how they had done through the night.
As I topped the lane, I could see both fillies at the bottom of the hill. I opened the gate, slipped through and started to walk down the hill to see if they would come when I called. As I got within sight, Hope looked up and nickered. I could now see that Dulci had somehow managed to scoot under the electric wire and was on the other side of the fence in the pasture with Jim’s horses and the mule. I walked on down the hill. I had not brought a rope or even a piece of twine. Dulci let me catch her but wasted no time in letting me know that the fence would bite. Getting her back through the tape was not going to work. I walked back up the hill to get a rope and lead her to a gate. The nearest gate was the infamous mud trap and the other gate meant passing through the other herd. As I neared the top of the hill, Dulci whinnied to me. Her whinny drew the attention of the other horses on the next hill and I saw Legend snap to attention. Throwing his head high, he trotted down the hill in a straight line to Dulci. The next thing I saw was a copper colored streak with a white blaze streaking in front of Legend’s thundering hooves and outstretched neck. They made two loops before I lost sight of them.
I quickly gathered my rope and headed down the hill. Legend had trotted back to his herd with a “took care of that” attitude and I could see no sign of Dulci. I continued down the hill and called. No sign still. I feared she had been run into the soft marshy soil at the bottom and had been trampled by Legend’s oncoming blast.
I crossed the fence and kept looking. As I passed a small grove of trees, I heard a slight nicker, and Dulci poked her head out of her hiding place. I slipped the rope on her and we headed for the gate. In the cool morning air, waves of heat rose from her chestnut sides and made an aura around her. When I stopped, she would press up beside me. I decided the muddy gate was our best bet. I carefully walked across the dry spots and opened the gate. I could stand now on the solid side and ask her with the rope to come through the gate.
As we walked back up the hill to the corral, Hope trotted up behind us. Dulci saw movement behind her and bolted forward until she realized the oncoming shape was that of her friend.
While the fillies ate their morning oats, I did some adjustments on the electric tape that had been placed horse high, but too high in a low spot for small fillies that could slip under.
Since that morning, the fillies have stayed in their pasture and Legend’s “herd” has stayed in theirs. I have been fighting the effects of lice on Dulci and she looks like a patchwork horse with hair patches and bald patches. I also started her on a series of antibiotics to help get over this hump in her recovery.

I was finally able to get the photo blog working and accepting photos tonight. Check it out at http://caskeyphotoblog.wordpress.com

Today I took down the Christmas tree. Well, not really down. I put a huge garbage bag over the entire thing, decorations and all, and wrestled it up the stairs to storage.
The middle part of the building where we celebrated Christmas last year has been pretty much shut off to help save on heating this huge barn of a building. We pass through to do other things and get to the garage, and walk past the Christmas tree. Like ignoring the elephant in the room. “What Christmas tree?”
The stairs in this building were constructed when people were smaller and not expected to live as long. One of the reasons they did not live as long was from climbing stairs at that pitch. Alternatively, if the stairs do not kill you going up, they have an even better chance to take you out going down. I can attribute some of my reluctance to store the Christmas tree to a survival instinct to see another Christmas.
There is something about a Christmas tree in May, that even with all the decorations still intact, looses a huge part of looking festive or even attractive. Hard to explain.
I left a yuletide Hansel and Gretel trail of ornaments as the tree, garbage bag and I battled the stairs.
A handy tip for anyone taking their tree upstairs: Unplug the extension cord before you head up the stairway.

I took Dulci out of the round corral while Jim and “Hope” had an in depth discussion about whether or not she was going to be caught that night. “Hope” kept up her end of the conversation quite well and brought several new and unusual topics to the table.

While they discussed, Dulci and I went for a short walk and little stops for grazing in the green grass along the lane. I got out my mixture of gentle iodine and baby oil and treated the skinned places and dandruffy areas again. The first treatment last week did wonders and the hair is quickly returning and the scales from her tail have disappeared. She seems to appreciate the attention and leans into the rubbing.

The tarp that had been covering the hay had blown nearly off, so I rearranged it and laid it out flat on the ground and let Dulci graze around it. She worked her way up to investigate the tarp on the ground and after she lost interest, I walked forward and over the tarp and asked her to follow. She never hesitated but stepped right onto the tarp. Her knees went up to her breast bone with each step as she tested the crackly ground, but she never faltered and never got scared. We hung out together then and she grazed and watched Hope and Jim.

The good ending was that Jim won the debate and Hope got caught and rewarded and turned loose again.

I have been busy with the last of the redraws for the Storey Publications book on Draft Horses and Mules coming out this fall. I will need those all done and sent back in a couple of weeks. Once I could see the final form of the book, there were a couple of drawings I pulled and decided to redo that I felt could be better.

My “boys”, the Arabian half brothers have become real horses this year. They will need lots of riding and driving. No more little babies, this winter they shot up (and out) and look magnificent. When they shed the last of the winter belly fur, I will take some photos. Their black hides look like mirrors. I will have to start getting up before daylight soon and start playing with them. It’s the only way to make sure my day starts out right.

It may be broadly stated that, with the single exception of goldfish, of all animals kept for the recreation of mankind the horse is alone capable of exciting a passion that shall be absolutely hopeless.
-Bret Harte

The First Step is Admitting You Have a Problem

My name is Bethany Caskey and I’m a Horseaholic.

Pat Parelli divides the human race into two groups. There are the people that love horses…and “the other kind”.
If you have the affliction of horse love, you understand the condescending nods, the bewildered sighs, and head shaking of the “other kind”. You are viewed as otherwise sane and but for this eccentricity, a pleasant companion. You may or may not remember the exact moment the horse bug bit.
For some of us it was a genetic wildcard that came as easily as our first smile. There was never a conscious effort. It was just always there.
Popular for quite some time have been the twelve step programs. I would suggest a similar program for horse-a-holics. There is no hope for a cure as with the other programs, mostly because we don’t really want or need one. We can use these steps to help explain our linear passion and to understand just how hopeless we are. The majority of our society has been trained to understand and tolerate an addiction.
The Twelve Step tradition is a time tested method used for various obsessive-compulsive behaviors.  These simple tools for living have been used by millions of people to successfully change their lives and recover from certain behaviors. Sharing and support in groups with like-minded individuals and ongoing fellowship is a major ingredient in the success of this program.

The Twelve Steps of Horse Addiction

1.   We admit we are powerless under the rule of our horses - that our lives have become periods of servitude interspersed with occasional chances to purchase new play things for the horses that “own” us.

2.   We have come to believe that there is no power greater than our horses that will keep us sane and happy.

3.   We have made a conscious decision that we have turned our will and our lives over to the care and entertainment of our horses.

4.   We have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of our barn, and still think we might have room for just one more horse.

5.   We have admitted to God, ourselves and our friends that our shoes will always be muddy and there will be horsehair and horse snot on our clothes.

6.   We were entirely ready to remove all these defects of character, but decided against it when our horse nickered and nuzzled us.

7.   We humbly asked for removal of our shortcomings - so we could have more time to spend with our horses.

8.   We made a list of all persons we had slighted when we were late because of chores or a long trail ride, and became willing to make amends to them all – even though they still didn’t want to hear about our horses.

9.   We have made direct amends to these people wherever possible, except when they didn’t want to help us unload the feed bags.

10.  We have continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it to our horse… who knew it from the start and had been telling us all along.

11.  We have sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with our horses as we understood them, praying only for knowledge of their will for us and the power to carry that will out.

12.  Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we will carry this message to those faced with Horse Addiction and to practice these principles in all our affairs.

(This parody is based on the original Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous, which can be found at the Alcoholics Anonymous website. In no way should this be looked on as an insult against those with a drinking problem. Warning! Actually following these steps will only make you more popular with the horses around you, and should not be attempted by those who wish to be anything other than horse people for the rest of their lives.)

All horse things progressing well. Dulci now comes to the gate when I arrive and says “Catch me, please.” In a few days they will get pasture privileges. It was super cold last night so did not do much with any of them, the wind cut right through everything. I can pick up all four of her feet and hold them and tap on them. She has been extremely good about her feet. I have four others in need of a spring hoof trimming. Oh joy.

I have been using the bicycle to tool around town, doing errands and getting the mail and such when I don’t need the truck or car. I have a shoulder bag that works well for carrying small things.

I have noticed a change in my take offs and landings. I used to be able to slow down, stand on the near side pedal and step off the bike and walk it to a stop. I tried that the first day and not only did my knees scream obscenities at me, the walk to a stop was more of a stumble forward several running steps. I have resorted to doing a full stop and putting my feet down and even that has lost any sign of grace, since I usually forget the proper brake or which foot I want to put down first. I used to be able to step on the off side pedal, push it forward in one fluid movement and be in flight as the bicycle seat gracefully met my bottom side. No more. Now it is one, okay two, hops, the bike wobbles forwards (if I’m lucky) and then the seat smacks rudely into my hind side. I can’t imagine that my bottom has dropped one to two inches in only twenty years. It has to be that new padded seat the bike shop put on.

I thought it was time to post an updated photo of the new rescues:

Oh, wait, wrong photo. This is the neighbor’s bison. So easy to get confused. It is the same color as Jim’s rescue :^P

Tonight all the patience paid off. I went into the round corral and the chestnut filly let me walk up to her and touch her, but walked away. She let me walk up and touch again and walked away. I went to the corral panel and snapped the rope onto the vertical post and laid the rope out. The filly watched. I walked up to her and caught her. She knew once the rope was up, she was caught. Figuring out she needed to be in the corner was beyond her figuring. Thank goodness they are smart and understand what happens next so quickly. I used that to an advantage. I love it when things work out like I think they should! She even let me lead her by her mane up and to where I wanted to play with her. I put the rope around her neck, went and got oat toasties for the two of them and then took the rope off while she ate and I gave her a good grooming with a curry and picked up all four feet.  So here is a photo of her tonight. It will be worthwhile to see how she fills out in the coming months.

She has a name now. Dulcinea. Dulci for short.

“Dulcinea is a fictional character who is referred to (but does not appear) in Miguel de Cervantes’ novel Don Quixote. She is also known as Dulcinea del Toboso, Aldonza Lorenzo, and Aldonza de Toboso.

Seeking after the traditions of the knights-errant of old, Don Quixote finds a true love whom he calls Dulcinea. She is a simple peasant in his home town, but Quixote imagines her to be the most beautiful of all women. At times, Quixote goes into detail about her appearance, though he freely admits that he has never seen her.

Don Quixote describes her appearance in the following terms: “… her name is Dulcinea, her country El Toboso, a village of La Mancha, her rank must be at least that of a princess, since she is my queen and lady, and her beauty superhuman, since all the impossible and fanciful attributes of beauty which the poets apply to their ladies are verified in her; for her hairs are gold, her forehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows rainbows, her eyes suns, her cheeks roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls, her neck alabaster, her bosom marble, her hands ivory, her fairness snow, and what modesty conceals from sight such, I think and imagine, as rational reflection can only extol, not compare.” [Volume 1/Chapter XIII]

In the Spanish of the time, Dulcinea means something akin to an overly elegant “sweetness”. In this way, Dulcinea is an entirely fictional person for whom Quixote relentlessly fights. To this day, a reference to someone as your “Dulcinea” implies hopeless devotion and love for her.

She does appear in stage and film adaptations of the book. In cinema and on stage, she has been played by (among others) Sophia Loren, Joan Diener, Hollis Resnik, and Vanessa Williams. In the Broadway musical Man of La Mancha, she is a self-described whore. Her given name is (Aldonza), and a prominent arc of the musical follows her distrust and then fervent belief in Don Quixote’s quest. She begins as someone who has no self-worth, Aldonza, and through Quixote’s belief in her, she begins to believe in herself as someone of great worth and takes on the name Dulcinea. Also in the musical, a priest sings a song called “To Each His Dulcinea”, in which he reflects that although Dulcinea does not exist, the idea of her is what keeps Don Quixote alive and on his quest.”

I think it fits her. Only the delusional see the potential beauty there.

Meet Dulcinea!

My sister is as devoted to riding bicycles as I am to riding horses. Maybe more so. We both get to wear spandex when going on long rides and are not embarrassed to be in public in our “garb” so it could be some bizarre quirk in the DNA. I have been talking for the last couple of years about fixing up my bike and starting to ride again but had the excellent excuse that tires and tubes for my vintage bike are almost impossible to find.

For Christmas, my sister appears with two new 28″ tires and tubes. End of excuses.

My memory puts hanging the bike in the attic sometime right after buying the building I work in now. That would put it at almost 20 years since I have ridden that bike. The only thing wrong with it when it went into storage was a loose rear fender. So 20 years in dry storage. I found out from the bike store owner when I picked it up after its tune up, new tire placement and new seat, that the hub shows the manufacturer date as 1964. I bought the bike for $99 in the early 70s, rode it to work every day I could, biked with my daughter on the back until she was too big to ride there and put it away around 1988. I still have the original manual.

My last visit to my daughter’s she showed me a web site she found amusing: “Stuff White People Like” and I was amused as well until she brought up the article http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/2008/02/10/61-bicycles/

and I saw a photo of MY bike. Don’t worry, there is probably a photo or a description of your bike there as well.

My bike looks a lot like this one, but I am in search of the basket and the rack which seem to be only available from “Retro” bike places if at all.

Things like the head lamp that was powered by a generator that rubbed on the wheel and the saddle bag were long gone. The original leather seat needed replacing with a new modern cushy seat with a built in safety light. A new chain and gear link and it was ready to hit the road again.

I polished it up a bit after getting it home and took it out for a short spin. I had forgotten how much fun and how fast these things can tool around town! I took another loop for good measure.

Let’s see. Fast, efficient, fun. I can load it into the back of my truck or car and it doesn’t need its own trailer if I want to ride it somewhere new. I hung it upstairs for 20 years without any care and $138 brought it back to life. No vet. No feed. No need to keep fence fixed so it doesn’t go to visit the neighbor’s bikes. Hum. My sister might just be on to something here. Wonder if I can get it to nicker when it sees me?