October 14, 2011

Bird Dog

October 14, 2011/ molly balint

I wish I had adequate words to describe the relationship between these two. I mean, we knew she was a special dog from the beginning, even before her accident.

It was why we emptied our piggy banks to save her.

But to watch these two, is to watch something pretty special.

Wherever Ruby is, you'll find Birdy. If Ruby's sprawled out on the living room floor, you'll find Birdy settled into her chest, nestled in the crook between her paws. Ruby puts up with the riding, and tugging, and hanging on. Lip "inspections" and eye pokes.

Birdy rolls and flops and plays on her. Ruby sits and, I believe, enjoys it. She mouths her hands gently, licks her right on the kisser.

I'll gladly put up with the dog hair- plastered footies. I'll pick the hair out of lips and noses. I'll excuse the excessive amount of food that gets shared. I'll even, just this once, dismiss the fact that she nosed her way into the room of a sleeping baby to see if she was awake.

She wasn't.

Happy Weekend, friends.

I'll be back Monday with something new and fun....

October 11, 2011

Maybe I should call her Catherine

October 11, 2011/ molly balint

We have a rooster problem.

It's nothing new around here. I've chronicled our rooster troubles many times. There was Hedgie, the original rooster at Thomas Run, who helped me overcome some childhood fears and bad blood that already existed between me and the rooster-kind. He was my favorite. But we lost him on the night we lost almost everyone.

Then, there was Roosevelt. It took two posts to write about Roosevelt, who was last seen waddling up the center line of Thomas Run, headed for the hills (or the heavens).

But now, there's a new problem. This Spring when I purchased half a dozen chicks from the feed mill, that were supposed to all be hens, it turned out that two of those six were not. And so we now have two large Rhode Island Red roosters courting the ladies and fighting for their affections.

Unfortunately, these roosters are a little too full of themselves. One of them has a strong dislike for one of my favorite hens and has her quarantined to the far side of the farm. If she dares cross the stream with the rest of the hens, he attacks.

Though that alone is enough for removal from Thomas Run, it is the latest offense that is even more inexcusable.

The roosters have set their sites on Birdy.

The first time it happened the scene was pretty confusing. There was some commotion. Birdy was on the ground crying. The rooster was near but I didn't put it all together.

The second time, I was standing right there--as he came up behind her, head bowed, feathers splayed, doing his little dance. He jumped up, pecking her on the back of the head and knocking her onto the ground. I was too far away to do anything but shout. And it didn't deter him.

He must think she's one of his hens.

And yesterday, he did it again.

The funny thing is, I don't think Birdy has any idea who or what is randomly coming up behind her and knocking her to the ground. She still happily wanders around behind the chickens, hands outstretched, calling them kitty. (We're working on it. Kitty. Chicky. She'll get there eventually.)

It makes time outside a little nerve-wracking. Always on the watch for the courting rooster who has a crush on Birdy. Maybe I should start referring to her as Catherine around the hens, to keep the confusion to a minimum.

But, alas, I sent my husband another one of those emails yesterday:

The roosters must go.

September 27, 2011

farriers & angels

September 27, 2011/ molly balint

When Ariel came under our care one of the first things we had to tackle was dealing with some of her drastic weight loss. We'd come to find out that she had Lymes Disease (ironically, so did Emma. Doubly ironic, they're on the same antibiotic), and another illness called Cushings Syndrome that was pretty rare for a pony of her age.

So every day, along with her grain she gets 40 pills to deal with the Lymes (Aren't you glad you don't take pony-doses of medicine??!) and a liquid medicine by mouth. And I watch in awe as Emma administers it. Slipping an arm over her head, reaching her finger in her mouth to pull out any grass or hay and squeezing in a dose of medicine, that the pony hates. I don't get involved, because if I did, Ariel would know something was up. It's better to keep things calm and relaxed so she doesn't get worked up.

And now the improvements in Ariel are really starting to show up. She's losing her bony look, there's even the bulge of some muscle in her back end, and we can tell--by the new spunky side she's showing--that she's feeling better, too.

Last week, Ariel had her first farrier visit here at our house. Brooke, who, along with her husband, is the farrier at the barn where Emma rides, Ariel's temporary home before she moved here--showed up to take care of Ariel's hooves.

It's a pretty neat process to watch.

And Brooke's encouragement about Ariel's progress and how she just "looked happy and content" is always good to hear.

It's funny, through the big decision of taking Ariel and the learning curve (mostly mine) of having a pony under our care, I have felt more than ever that so many people are on our side. That people are rooting for us, helping us, supporting us.

Last week, I got an email about Ariel's vet bill. The bill was a doozy. A horse-sized bill that makes one sputter and gasp just a bit. But I also knew this was part of the package. In that email I found out an "anonymous angel", who read my blog post about bringing Ariel to our home, had covered almost all of the bill. People are amazing.

God is good.

I just keep thinking for all the years of wishing and wanting and hoping that went on before Ariel was even a possibility, that patience and trust really pay off. When I get anxious about things, or want to force them to happen, my husband often reminds me to take the approach of waiting and knowing that the right doors will open. At the right time. We could have forced this pony thing to happen, or the fencing, years ago.

But we didn't.

And when the right door opened, there we were with open arms, ready to answer.

September 06, 2011

joy in the sorrow

September 06, 2011/ molly balint

Last May, I shared about the passing of my friend and neighbor, Sarah.

But one thing I didn't tell you in that story was my last "conversation" with Sarah before she died.

Just days before, she sent me several messages through twitter (of all places) curious to know if we had any interest in her pony, Ariel.

If you've been reading this blog long enough, you'll know that my daughter Emma is a horse girl. From her depths, the girl loves horses. Childhood "passions" come and go, but Emma's love of horses has only grown deeper roots in her little heart.

She has been riding and taking lessons since we moved back to Maryland. I watch this video of her, four years ago and I am reminded that she has been waiting for "a pony of her own" for quite a long time.

But a pony is no small commitment. If I had a dollar for every time I answered the question, "When do you think I'll be ready for a pony of my own?", I'd have enough dollars for seven ponies by now. Aside from being old enough for a pony, or having enough know-how, the big, glaring issue was right outside my kitchen window.

A farm with no fencing.

You can ask any of my close friends to know that I've been trying to figure out ways to get this little farm of ours started, to find the money in our squeezed-tight budget for fencing. (It is SO expensive!) Should I do something on kickstarter? Should I get a job? Should I make stuff and sell it on etsy?

Meanwhile, I'm telling my anxious daughter that some day the time will be right. Pray, I say. God knows your heart. And He already knows the perfect pony for you. And He knows when the time will be right.

I often needed to remind myself of the same things.

When Sarah sent me those series of messages, asking if we were interested, something jumped in my heart.

Little did she know, that many of our errands brought us driving right past her house. That Emma would often get quiet in the back seat, hiding her tears--not just for a pony, but for Ariel. "She's the perfect pony for me. I don't think they have anyone riding her right now. Do you think they'd ever sell her?" And I'd give her my same words of wisdom, which by now she could probably recite to me by heart. Pray. Wait. When the time is right....

That morning, when Sarah asked me, I immediately got on the phone with Dan. Teary, nervous. I had no idea that Sarah was just days from the end of her fight, but I knew this was one of those things she needed to settle.

Dan simply said, "Tell her yes. We'll just have to figure the rest out."

We didn't tell Emma anything. The heartbreak if anything fell through would have been horrible.

The man who owns the barn where Emma has been riding for the last several years said to bring Ariel there. She could stay until we were ready. For free. A gift.

But for a handful, Emma spent every morning this summer at the barn--taking care of Ariel, learning from the wonderful people who work and board their horses there, from my stepmother, who has taught her everything she knows.

Eventually, with all this planning and fussing, she began to put the pieces together.

"Is Ariel going to be mine?"

Finally, last week, in the middle of the aftermath of Hurricane Irene, Ariel arrived home.

By perfect timing (and God'd faithfulness to Emma's prayers, I believe) we found the funds for fencing. While we were in Virginia, a team of Amishmen descended on our farm and installed it.

Everything has come together. The timing is finally right.

And there, in the midst of the sorrow of losing Sarah, is the big, bright glow of joy. She's sitting bareback on a pony grazing in my back yard.

August 26, 2011

batten down the hatches

August 26, 2011/ molly balint

The laundry disaster I must face today...

Yesterday, my computer died. I'm crossing fingers that the new battery that will arrive today is the solution. In the meantime, I'm counting it as a gift as I take on the crazy task of dealing with the laundry madness before hurricane Irene comes knocking on our door this weekend. Out here a power outage is most certainly guaranteed. Thank goodness for oil lanterns and a cool spring to keep our animals watered. (even if it is a raging river by the time this is over.) Happy weekend friends. Batten down those hatches. And cross fingers that I'm back here on Monday!