Farm Life

When I was a girl I longed for a horse; I prayed, wished, hoped for and fantasized about having one of my own.
Of course, it never happened. For starters, my parents had to buy the food for the table on account. I remember
running up the butcher shop, when my dad got paid, to give “Wilf” a few dollars toward our bill. To say the odds
were stacked against a horse showing up in my back yard could be considered an understatement. So, being the resourceful kids we were, my best friend and I ended up giving our bikes horse names. For 2 summers we
“galloped” Flicka and Silver up and down the gravel roads of the neighborhood we lived in, putting miles on
those fat Schwinn tires, and our dreams in the dust behind us.

Decades passed and a few months ago I was given the opportunity of realizing that girl’s dream at last.
Sixty-six years old and my first horse; hey, it goes to show that “it’s never too late”, as they say, “to have a happy childhood.” “Dub” was a beautiful, 18 year old bay-with-white-socks Arab gelding. For a while he boarded with us here on the farm while his owner got things ready for him. When it was time for him to go to his new home we were all quite sad as he had made an impression on everyone who met him. He was very sweet and friendly – I don’t know much about horses and don’t speak that lingo yet, but I do know a little about dogs, so I will just say
that to me, he was like a kind and intelligent gentleman dog. I liked him right away. He was moved to Merritt, B.C.
and was missed around here a great deal; we spoke of him often, and wondered how he was doing in his new home and with a new herd. In time we learned that he had become ill and wasn’t responding to treatment well. Soon afterward, the offer was put to me, “would you like to have Dub for yourself?” I said yes right away. My horse fantasy was resurrected and I was back in the saddle again, this time it really would be 4 legs and a strong, sleek body – not Schwinn tires – that would be carrying me through the dreamy fields I had created as a child. We were pretty excited the day he arrived, I was even thinking of renaming him (not Flicka), as Dub seemed more plough-Shire, whereas he was more noble dream-maker. As I write this now, I am still moved to emotion remembering him and the way he looked as he staggered off the trailer ramp. He was shockingly thin, as he refused to eat, and that spark, or spirit, or energy, or whatever you want to call it – that was gone from him. He wasn’t the same horse. Lauren and Dave made a commitment to give him every chance at life that they could. I followed along – doing what was required to help, but looking to them for direction, and learning along the way. In time, Dub did pick up – he actually started eating hay, which he had refused in the beginning. Lauren joked that we were his 2 personal handmaidens – hovering over him and catering to his every horse-whim. Lauren separated bale after bale of hay looking for the fattest, most coveted bits; anything to get him eating and healthy again. Special grains, hot mashes, a bed of hay that could have been feed for the other horses, and hours just being with him; touching and reassuring - we fought hard. One thing I learned about horses, very early on in that fight, was how extremely sensitive they are. I had no idea. Lauren told me that it was important to be positive and upbeat around Dub, otherwise he would pick up on my emotional state. That was hard for me. I was afraid of losing him and full of grief over his declining health. More than once I wept around him. It wasn’t good. What I did to get me past the emotion was to revert back to my childhood and imagine what I had always dreamed of; me and my horse riding for miles through open fields. So, I started going out to Dub with a strategy; I began talking to him about riding the Callahan in the summer, and as I talked about it I could see it and believe it. The imagery of us together, riding with friends and some of the other horses from the farm, really did transform me emotionally and I could feel that Dub was responding to me in a different way. There was definitely a bond developing, and I was so happy that I had learned enough, by that time, to recognize it.

On Boxing Day, Dave came to me and said it was time. We had made some progress, but Dub wasn’t advancing quickly enough to stop the wasting away; he was weakening and now needed help getting up. It was very, very difficult for us all to lose that battle, but as Lauren said “life isn’t always the best option.” I choke up still, remembering Dub, but there is something I got from him that I had never experienced before and for which I will always be grateful, and that’s real horse love. I felt it given. I have it. And I want to hang on to it. The other day Lauren offered to give me “Six-gun” her gentle and sweet Arab gelding. I’m still considering her offer. I think Dub came into my life to lead me into the barn, and maybe it’s Six who will carry me out of the barn and through those endless open fields I dreamed of as a child.

Remembering Dub - December 26, 2010

Rojo Pez's Sixgun

Carol can be reached at
carol@eatfreerange.ca

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Rememberig Dub

Farm Life

"Be like a duck. Calm on the surface, but always paddling
like the dickens underneath." -- Michael Caine
   
It’s 6:30 in the morning and I’ve just opened the gate to Ellen, Portia and Caligula’s compound. They’re in a
heightened state of excitement and very loud – yammering away to one another in duck-speak. In their world
it’s a great day – last night it rained! The grass and the ground are still very wet and they’re about to head out
on patrol. Their mission – scout for and devour the most delectable of duck delicacies - Arion distinctus
– otherwise known as Slug. They wobble past me in a semi-crouched position; their necks swaying back
and forth - long and low across the ground. Watching them reminds me of the way someone might move a
metal detector over a sandy beach. Of all the animals on the farm, I think our ducks live the most purpose
driven life. They seem to approach everything they do, whether it’s scouting for food, or taking a bath, with a
serious intent. I’ve watched the dogs, horses and pigs play and they can all be quite silly - goofy at times,
but not the ducks. I have no idea how the concept of Daffy Duck came about, but he couldn’t have been
modeled after your garden variety, hybrid, egg laying ducks like Ellen and Portia. They have a strong work
ethic – they lay eggs for us (one each) first thing in the morning then pretty much patrol in earnest from
dawn ‘till dusk.

Caligula	Ellen	Portia

Caligula, the male, is a Muscovy and just about as ugly as a duck can be. He’s huge, lumbering, and always dirty - his feathers are yellow-tinged and greasy from the glandular oils he secretes, and his face is bright red and covered in warty caruncles. Even the coyotes stay away from him. Ugly as he his, we love Caligula. Ellen and Portia don’t love Caligula at all – they are pretty much a committed couple, but what Caligula lacks in looks he more than makes up for in personality. I think he’s kind of a guy’s guy. He’ll often follow Dave around the property; settling down to watch while he works, then tag along behind him when he moves on to the next project; his big body swinging from side to side – all the while hissing because he can’t quack (Caligula, not Dave). The most interesting thing about Caligula is the fact that he hates rain. While the girls will go from puddle to puddle when it’s raining - joyously bathing, splashing and plunging for worms in the water, Caligula will stay in his house waiting for the rain to stop. Yesterday, I found him hiding in the chicken’s coop – sitting out the storm. No water off this duck’s back – not if he can help it!

The three of them have the run of the property – they seem to be horse savvy and maneuver quite well around them while they forage for insects – whatever sort of relationship they have with the horses it works - they haven’t been stepped on yet. Our dogs will mingle with them every day, but in a nonchalant, “I’m not even going to acknowledge you” way; it’s not that they are afraid of the ducks, rather they are obeying the first rule of the ranch – harm nothing – no matter how slowly it waddles in front of your bone!

Epic ignoring the girls	Slug Patrol	Break Time	Loving Those Puddles

In their yard they have a real enameled bathtub – it’s fitted with a diving ramp of sorts so they can get in and out easily. One of the greatest displays of bliss I’ve witnessed recently was to watch Ellen and Portia line up and hurl themselves into their tub of fresh, clean water. Spinning, diving, flapping – it was an aqua ballet duck style. Oh the joy! The joy! Watch out Cirque du Soleil O, there’s a new act in town!

I love our ducks. I’ve seen ducks of all varieties over the years, but this is the first time I’ve ever really paid close attention to them – to get to know and sort of understand them. I can even recognize a few words of duck-speak. I definitely know their hungry quack – it’s rapid, doesn’t change in tone, and is very persistent. My favorite is their excited, anticipatory quack. That happens while they are waiting for their tub to be filled. It’s a lovely, soft and low gurgle – if I translated it into my own voice I would be humming. And there’s the singing quack when they first hit the water – all high pitched and loaded with hallelujahs. Caligula? – he just hisses, but I’m sure there’s meaning in every intonation.

It’s impossible for me to watch our ducks and feel down at the same time. I see them now as they make a pass in front of my deck – heads low, focused and eager – after the rain, every blade of grass holds promise.

Full of Goodness
Compared to a chicken’s egg, the average duck egg is approximately 30% bigger. Its nutritional value is therefore a bit higher too. Duck eggs contain all eight of the amino acids essential for a healthy body and loads of vitamins and minerals. Eat an egg a day and keep the doctor away!
· Vitamins B1, B2, A, D, E
· Phosphorous
· Sulphur
· Potassium
· Calcium (more if you eat the shell although this is not recommended)
· Zinc
· Tryglyerides
· Phospholipids
· Lecithin
· Choline

   
Carol can be reached at
carol@eatfreerange.ca

Recent Posts:
Musings of a tenderfoot...