Horse High & Bull Strong: Another Look

[Animoto video at end of post].

Some businesses actually live their motto, and Ag Fence is one of them. I would link to them, but cannot find them on the internet. No matter; they are busy year round and work in states north and south of us. You would know why if you saw their work. Their teams have worked together for years, and once you get a team, that's the team that returns to do your additional work, or so has been the case for us. A few weeks ago, Et Cetera (in the foreground) got out of our fencing, we think because it was not electrified, and because in some places--because of the hilly terrain--there is space to sneak out underneath. Not any longer; Ag Fence installed a 6th wire, also electrified, and yes, I have the electric fence turned on. When you are chasing a llama, you do not stop to take a picture, but here is the guilty culprit, and the reason why we called the crew back. Well, at least one reason.

The other reason was a health and safety issue. My very practical husband decided that some seasons could provide more challenge than others for getting equipment from the upper to lower barn area. Challenging because there is a steep drop coming down the hill, if you do not navigate it properly. Think icy winters, wet springs. Think no farther; Mickey to the rescue. He had them install a guard rail fence, and it is utilitarian yet attractive, and strong enough to stop a truck. Considering the equipment designated for the new barn in about 2 weeks, I think the fence is timely and needed. The diameter of the posts is the largest I've ever seen in fencing, and are spaced 4 feet apart for over 130 feet, so I feel safer already.

Still, one thing leads to another, and before winter's onset, if we beat the weather clock, we still have more excavating to do. If not, there's always spring. Farm work and projects never end. Perhaps that's what I love the most. Like teaching, you catch up for 15 seconds before falling behind again.

One final bonus of the day's work (the crew arrived at 7:15 and left before noon--they do work fast and well) was getting the dock fixed for winter. Well, partially fixed. Come spring--this mantra is starting to sound familiar--we'll get them back to lift the piece off again, and pour concrete to stabilize the dock. Erosion has taken its toll, with water running off from the number 2 farm which is higher ground, over to the number 1 farm where we live. We get all the run-off, and despite many initiatives, we still get seasonal erosion.

Weathering And Soil

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Hopefully the spring fix will eliminate this problem permanently. And, as Mickey would say, all of this for some llamas, when the market for them has dropped dramatically. Lucky for me, the girls are a hobby, and if I never sell one, I'll be absolutely A-OK with that.

If you take a close look, I finally have Mickey where I want him, marooned on the dock without a passageway. He did a cat walk on some 2 x 4s, or maybe 4 x 4s, but he made it back to the "mainland." Loved the moment. Am I "wicked bad" (love this expression, Morgan)? Don't answer.



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That Look

If you read spy novels, you have learned to read the tell of characters that people your fictional worlds. If you know me well, you can read the tells that my life is raging beyond bounds: clutter abounds and I do not get to blog. Piles strewn, like mental labyrinths, can be navigated, but nothing compensates for a stockpile of posts piling like leaves, needing collection. So it is that this post is a retrospective, something that happened last weekend. It was an event, and it had that look.

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The notion of that look has morphed through time. Younger and thinner, I had that look, and walking through Hess's, I was often mistaken for a model. Grand fun. My mother loved every minute. Then, as you move through life, that look becomes a child's face on the moment of crumbling into something that will keep you up nights. That look on Cierra's face, poking out through the plastic sheets, had the tell. She was there, but somehow I knew Et Cetera was not. A mother's instinct easily transfers to animals, so I got on the golf cart determined to see if the fence was breached. Not. Then I saw her, in the middle of an alfalfa field, munching, determined not be to be lured. Long story short: when you have only you to count on, you pray to God and your favorite saint to give you that one chance you have to catch the wayward one. Prayers answered and Et Cetera rewarded with more grain than she deserved, but safely home.

Now we use the electric fence, which I hate but see as necessary. Still I am haunted about how she escaped. Next Friday we are adding a bottom row of fencing, and before the birth of our first cria, two things will happen: we WILL turn the electric fence off, and we WILL install a containment fence on the outside perimeter of our first fence. I have relearned how there are no sure things in life, just those things on which you hang your hopes and dreams, and you do what is necessary to insure their safety.