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Picture of Becky and Harley at the barrel clinic last month:


1 posted on 07/14/2005 3:23:56 PM PDT by HairOfTheDog
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To: ecurbh; CindyDawg; PayNoAttentionManBehindCurtain; Duchess47; FrogInABlender; Beaker; ...

New thread ping!


2 posted on 07/14/2005 3:24:36 PM PDT by HairOfTheDog
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To: HairOfTheDog

Hey did you post #4551 over on the other thread, I could have sworn I saw it over there, then I clicked it and it was gone.

Becky


5 posted on 07/14/2005 3:35:36 PM PDT by PayNoAttentionManBehindCurtain (Don't be afraid to try: Remember, the ark was built by amateur's, and the Titanic by professionals.)
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To: HairOfTheDog

Wow. I'm impressed


20 posted on 07/14/2005 5:58:09 PM PDT by CindyDawg
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To: HairOfTheDog

"This is a horse chat thread where we share ideas, ask for input from other horsemen, and talk about our riding and horse-keeping."

My best advice to jockeys...DON'T fall off!!!


33 posted on 07/14/2005 7:24:53 PM PDT by gate2wire (We Honor Those Who Serve---WE REMEMBER--Thank you)
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To: HairOfTheDog
CavalloFarms TallahasseeFL...rto
710 posted on 07/23/2005 7:24:05 AM PDT by visitor (...and the dems wonder why they lost and will continue to lose, good riddance)
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To: All
Yesterday my 31 year old Walker showed some signs of colic and before we could get to him, rolled into a large multiflora rose bush and couldn't get up. We cut away the bush but at that time, in this heat, he was exhausted. We iced and hosed him, treated for the colic, but after a few hours, he seemed to deteriorate. Through tears I called to have a vet come (ours was out of town), being sure that I would have to put him down.

The vet felt that it was heat exhaustion and colic, although not sure which came first, and treated him, saying that he didn't feel he needed to be put down.

On the vet's advice, we let him lie down and he slept/rested for another three hours. By dusk, he seemed better though weak and we turned him out in a paddock with his girlfriend of 15 years. Checked him through midnight and satisfied he was on the road to recovery, slept.

This morning, he was not in the paddock. Apparently during the night he made his way under the fence to the pasture. We found him in another bush, banged, bruised and weakened, but eating. I called our vet at 6 and she arrived to recheck him. The most dreaded news we had feared...a twist. It couldn't be repaired and we had to put him down.

I've had Stash half my life with never a sick day. I am too tearful to type anymore so I'll just post a journal peace I wrote about him 6 months ago:

"For the third day in a row, aged Stash has broken through a weak gap in the fence behind the ring, only this time without his entourage. Not seeing the horses this morning, G thought perhaps they were all out and went a-looking. Stash was standing at the ring, alone, with the babies. A brief walk-around and G assured herself that Stash made the trek ex parte, the others standing grouped at another spot on the fence line, apparently also baffled at how he did it again. No one leaves without Stash and he needs no one's permission or joinder to wander. There's not a fence that can hold him or a stall gate he can't dislodge when he wants out. Fixing fence from Stash's leaning his massive body into the boards is a weekly chore.

His 31+ years have earned him seniority in the herd, despite his oft’ gimpy gate. Although his large ebony body, with his still straight back and full muscle, belies his advanced age, it’s starting to show in his face. Despite all the aches and pains of his senior years, Stash is still the only horse that can turn completely over, uphill, when he lies down to take his regular dirt bath or scratch an itch.

His partner of the last 15 years or so is the just as oft' miserable Jem, who protects him from being caught when the two are not so inclined. She's a 15.3 gorgeous chestnut Morgan with an attitude, probably about 13 years his junior. She's loyal to a fault except where his night escapades are concerned. For whatever reason, she is not adventurous preferring rather to stay at the fence, calling for him like a wife whose husband has been barhopping too long.

When the horses that comprise the herd are all or mostly corralled together, the usual vying for prominence occurs, with the thoroughbred geldings posturing as though balls intact, rearing, charging, kicking and the like. Although close to 17 hands himself, Stash's advanced age, stiffness and cooler blood make him no match for the younger wanna-bes. During this ritual, we watch in fascination; the first few times were with concern for the elderly guy, but no more. Stash occasionally will simply walk away, Jem close beside, but will more frequently ignore the advance that stops short of contact and is immediately redirected. One wonders if it is age, free spirit or frailty that earns him the right of disengagement.

G was concerned about him this morning, calling me out into the cold in pajamas;that's what horse moms do. Her concern was that his usual detachment was lacking and he actually came to her on sight. That was of no concern to me as after his exploratories, he is always ready to come back to the group;we sometimes just don't know his timetable for any given spree. Of more concern was his apparent desire to be attended to with caresses and whispers;not like Stash. He didn't have an elevated temperature and no heat in his legs. His gums were pale-ish but not overly so. His breathing was labored; no congested, but it has been for the last few years. His eyes were saddened, but not an indicator of trouble as I've noticed the sadness of his smallish eyes since his retirement (though I have to say that I've only noticed it when he was stabled or approached by me). Does he have memories of what used to be?

Stash, a well-bred Tennessee Walker was a premier scout's horse when my ex and I heavily campaigned our field trial dogs in the eastern half of the country. He was quick, tolerant, with endurance beyond belief and had an outstanding dog-sense. If I was puzzled which way a dog had turned at a hedgerow, I learned to trust Stash and gave him his head. We were responsible for many a National Championship (one for a dog owned by someone else who asked me to scout;cold ride home THAT night, I tell ya').

Although my ex, Stash and I were a pretty in-sync team at the time, Stash and I were in much demand, meaning that we rode the better part of each day, sometimes three hour braces back to back. Nothing stopped this group of bird dog enthusiasts;we rode in rain, sleet, snow, heat, mud, ice and the occasional nice day. Stash took me through all and through briars and brambles, corn fields and woods, creeks and around ponds, only quitting once when we had ridden hard for the best part of an hour scouting a big running youngster who we found, on point, probably 2 miles from the main riders.

On that particular windy and bitter cold afternoon, Duke was working a strip of sorghum when we finally found him. I knew it was a pheasant by the way Duke worked each end of the patch in shortening lengths;the bird was moving and he was cutting him off at each end;it's delicate work to set a pheasant on the run without flushing him. Duke was a marvel to observe. Once I was assured that the cock was set, Stash and I had to find the handler, my ex, who I heard calling in the distance from a direction I wasn't all that sure of with the changing wind and echoing hills. Stash galloped his heart out not only to find and alert the pack of the point, but also to lead them back quickly, hoping it was as we left it. A perfect day I'll remember not only for the show, but also for my horse's heart; big as they come.

Following the successful flush of the still set bird, Stash was done and told me so. He wouldn't move on with more than a walk and glanced back at me. Although we were several miles from the base camp, it really didn't matter if I walked home on foot in the dark;the brace was over, he had been magnificent and I wouldn't ruin my boy for anything.

I often wonder if the sadness in his eyes is a memory of what was; if his attention to the babies today was an attempt to recapture youth or tell old war stories to someone who'd listen. I wonder if my caresses to which he eventually submits relay to him that I too remember, miss and am forever thankful."
880 posted on 07/26/2005 7:34:45 AM PDT by Centaur (Never practice moderation to excess.)
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To: HairOfTheDog
I woke up to find two horses eating my landscaping this morning. I called the Eureka animal control and they showed right up with their sheriff counter part just as the horses wandered out of the driveway and into the halters they had waiting. I couldn't believe the ease this went off with.

As we were standing there talking about the next step the owner walked up to claim them. Someone had left a gate open and they wandered off looking for a new home.

It never entered my mind to take some pictures...

2,113 posted on 08/08/2005 4:16:41 PM PDT by tubebender (Growing old is mandatory...Growing up is optional)
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To: HairOfTheDog

http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/f-chat/1462562/posts


2,597 posted on 08/13/2005 8:13:53 PM PDT by Clemenza (Intelligent Design Isn't Very Intelligent)
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To: HairOfTheDog

Nice threads, fun to read!


4,051 posted on 08/31/2005 8:25:19 AM PDT by hedgetrimmer
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To: All

I'm signing off for the day. Y'all have a good evening. Cindy call me if I can do anything.


5,791 posted on 09/21/2005 12:45:54 PM PDT by RebaJ
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To: HairOfTheDog

When you have another saddle club thread would you please let me know?Thanks.
Bree


6,223 posted on 09/26/2005 5:50:55 PM PDT by Sarcastic1 (Don't make me adverb verb you,you adjective noun!)
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