Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Galleries, F boy, and messing with karma
I do have to make a decision today tho, on the "F" boy's official name to send in the forms to get him registered. The lastest choices are between Fandango, Fedora, Fosse, and Fresco, all having something to do with either his movement, coloring, and/or his siblings/parents' names. I may just put them into a hat a draw. There have been so many good ideas sent my way for this one, really good ones. I am leaning towards Fandango and Fresco the hardest. Off to the post office now still undecided.....hmmm?
On a different note, very often on the farm there is an event, something that happens, that if not witnessed and acted upon, the story would have ended another way, usually not so well. I feel sometimes my job as ward of these animals and this farm is one of crisis awareness, management, and hopefully diversion. I wonder tho, in the big scheme of things whether nature has its own path and maybe I should let it go its own way, but I just can’t let some things do that when I see them happening and know I can do something to change the course.
Yesterday when I was picking veggies in the garden I heard the purple martins raising a ruckus about something so I went to check it out. I saw there was something hanging out of the most southern gourd in the colony and when I got closer I saw it was a baby, some feathers on wings and tail coming in but still in fuzz. It was hanging by one foot, upside down and it could not get back up into the house. There were two other baby faces looking down at it as it tried in vain to flap its little wings and many adults circled the the pole squawking. I ran to the house and got a tall extending duster and went back out and gently pushed the bird back into its house. It was so exhausted it sat at the door not pulling its wing in with it. I gave another push and on in it went. The parents returned and all settled back down.
Then, after a trip to town I stopped at the barn where my ancient mare, Limerick lives and was surprised to see her laying in the field. She whinnied to me but did not rise. Not a good sign. It was obvious when I got over to her that she had been down for quite a while and the grass all around her was pressed down where she had been laying. She was saturated with sweat and both her belly and her nostrils rose in giant swells in desperation to get air, obviously the heat and humidity had overwhelmed the poor girl. It took quite a bit of slapping and hollering at her to get her to attempt to get up, and on her first attempts she fell forward onto her knees and crumpled back down with a big grunt. Finally she got her forelegs out of the way and made one more try, and rose, staggering. I spent the next half hour running the cool hose water over a very grateful animal. She just stood there with her head touching my shoulder, looking me in the eye, until her breathing quieted and her protruding veins retreated, and she sighed.