“This springtime in Wyoming is a bust!” . . . .

We can usually count on spring-like weather for Mother’s Day in early May.  Not so this year!  Rains started Friday evening, continued all day Saturday, turning into snow late afternoon, and leaving 4-5 inches of white stuff on the ground this Sunday morning May 10, 2015.  We stare out the window looking for signs that it will abate to no avail.  The snow is still coming down, blowing sideways in the wind.  Bah humbug!  We had to cancel plans to attend the Wyoming Symphony’s last performance of the season last night, and put on hold a trip to Red Feather to visit our cabin today.  Maybe we’ll make plans again in July!

New in town . . . .

The backup plan for the mouse invasion entailed acquiring two adorable new kittens.  This young lady looks so much like Dad’s old cat TuTu that we named her TuTu2.  Her mustache isn’t quite so pronounced, but her personality makes up for her lack of exotic coloration.

High hopes . . .

Take a bow, Oscar Wild!  He and TuTu2 have been together since they were babies, although they are not of the same litter.  They were in the garden with me surveying the chaos left from last year, and decided Rosie was going to be a challenge.  These adorable, gentle kittens reside in their mobile home inside the chicken house at night and have already earned their keep!  The mice are scarce for the first time in a few months.

The last snow bank . . . .

The remaining crust of snow from a huge drift that sits in the shady corner of the garden looks like a good drink for Rosie.  She has Oscar pinned on a post, so she decides to gnaw on the ice for a bit.  She is going to have to adopt these kittens and share her world. The kittens follow us everywhere–to the barn, the garage, the orchard–all the places we walk on our daily routine.  Rosie responds by tackling them, nipping at them and trying all sorts of intimidation, to no avail.  They make me nervous when they wander into Tilly’s corral as they are not afraid of a horse that could squash them flat with one misstep. Tilly isn’t at all sure she likes having them around and we hope she learns to ignore them.  For now she’s wavering between curiosity and distrust, which must be her genetic ambivalence for the cat species.

Got mail? . . . .

Fortunately there were no residents in the bird hotel.  This pair will bring a lively challenge to the scene, and we hope they are so busy chasing mice they will leave the bird population alone.

“Saddles bore me” . . . .

Tilly’s reaction to the rite of “first saddle” was amusing.  She was trying to wiggle out of it, and it has slipped some distance down her back after a couple of hours of wandering free around the corral and her shed.  She seems to be calmly waiting for us to rid her of it. I couldn’t resist snapping her giant yawn!  At this stage of the game, she has been familiarized with the saddle blanket, allowed to sniff it, chew on it and maul it around, knocking it off the fence a few times. She previously wore a bareback riding pad for a few stretches of time, so the blanket wasn’t anything too surprising to her, nor was the cinch on the saddle.

The saddle we intended to use for her training is still sitting in a queue at the saddle maker’s shop awaiting repairs.  Dad’s big old saddle weighs a ton and doesn’t seem appropriate for colt starting. We decided to improvise and borrow a youth saddle from Neighbor Tom. The advantages are it is light-weight and easy to handle, although it lacks a belly cinch, which is kind of critical. We put it on and took it off a couple of times, cinched it up gradually and then I hooked a longe line to her halter and led her around the corral so she could become comfortable with the feel of the saddle.  After a few minutes I asked her to walk on and then gave her a command to trot.  She humped her back and jumped a couple of times, then evened out in a nice even trot for several rounds.  The stirrups are light and narrow and when bumping her sides did not seem to bother her.

“Is this any way to treat a horse?” . . . .

Tomorrow we will put a breast collar on and attach it to the saddle to hold it in place.  We don’t want to begin by cinching too tight, and we don’t want the saddle to slip off, which would be a yard sale to say the least.  Next on the agenda we will try to get her to take a bridle with snaffle bit.  She is very sensitive around her mouth, so this should be an enterprise.  I think I’ll rub a little honey on the bit and surprise her.

“Do you think this is a new watering bucket?” . . . .

The historic hen house has lots of unwanted critters, mostly mice.  So many mice that placing traditional mouse traps to catch them would require daily loading and emptying traps beyond anybody’s patience (not to mention squeamishness to bug-eyed dead little critters).  Placing mouse and rat poison is not an option.  All the other devices we studied in the hardware store seemed completely inadequate to solve a serious mouse population in a 40′ x 16′ chicken house.  This five-gallon bucket filled 2/3 with water is a perfect dunk tank.  All the mice have to do is walk the plank, taste the peanut butter spread on the bottle, which then turns on its axis dunking the mice in the water.  Voila!

This amazing invention was found on the Internet and is working very well.  Our thanks to the inventor, whoever you are.  Now if we can keep the girls from eating the peanut butter. We have also tried Nutella, just in case the mice have a preference.

“So, what about my horns?” . . . .

Our Angus/Long Horn steer Abraham (a.k.a. “Feed Lot,” “Meat Ball,” “Rib Eye,” and a variety of other misnomers) has a rather peculiar set of horns.  One grows up into a point and one curves down toward his jaw.  Recent growth of the downward curving horn had reached his jaw and the upward growing horn had become a lethal weapon of about 8 inches that he used to great advantage.  Something had to be done to both horns, and after a consultation with our vet, we decided he needed a “trim.”

“hey, what did I do to deserve this?” . . . .

Abe’s first experience with a squeeze chute.  An ignominious end to a friendly hop into the horse trailer, a wary jump out into a pen, a hurried trip down a long winding chute and into this warm new environment at the clinic.  He’s thinking there is only one thing wrong with this picture.  “After being such a nice boy, this is how I’m treated?”  And this is just the beginning.

What a pretty red halter – just your color! . . . .

We have never tried to halter this big boy – it seems  a little like trying to get a lasso on something too big to handle, unless he’s in a squeeze chute.  So far, he is curious but reasonably trusting.  He has never known anything but human kindness (unless of course you count his experience as a calf which changed the course of his life from being a bull to a steer, but that was a small thing).

“This won’t hurt a bit!” . . . .

A wire saw cuts through the horn to remove a couple inches.  Hopefully it will not grow back soon – we may have a little trouble convincing Feed Lot to go to town with us again.

“You’ll get a treat after we do the next one” . . . .

A little paste of “Stop Bleed” and a bandage and we’re on to the next horn.  So far, so good.

All hands on deck! . . . .

Michael assisted with the upright horn, which was at a difficult angle.  This horn poses no problem for Abe, but it is certainly a problem for everyone else, including Tilly!  Abe is like a big dog – he gets excited and romps around, bucking and kicking and waving his horns with great abandon.  You could say his horns were a dilemma, what with one growing into the side of his jaw and the other pointed God knows where.

Back safely at home in the pasture, Abe made a beeline for neighbor Tom’s fence to seek some sympathy and comfort from his mother who lives next door.  He worked his bandages off after a day or two and seems to have recovered from his ordeal.  The horse trailer filled with sweet hay disappeared and it is just as well.  Doubtless Abe will think twice before being lured in anytime soon!