Woke up this morning to a chill in the air and ice in the water buckets. Heading outside to feed, I heard a loud banging from the barn. At first thinking it was Duke, showing his dismay at still being indoors by pawing his size 7 feet at the head of the stall, I went to the tractor. Before starting it , however, I realized the banging was both too loud and too desperate to be Duke. Running into the barn, I saw Lincoln half over the stall divider between him and Duke, one hind leg hanging and the other tucked up on the divider, his front legs outstretched trying to hold his massive weight, trembling with fear and adrenalin.
I panicked. Having forgotten my cell phone in the house, I ran to retrieve it. I immediately called Terry, helpless in Pennsylvania to do anything about this dilemma. He could barely understand my desperate voice, screaming we had an emergency, not knowing what to do with an 1800 pound horse with powerful hindquarters stuck five feet in the air. Duke's tie was broken, undoubtably trying to get away from Lincoln's hind end. After hanging up with Terry, who promised to call a good neighbor, I grabbed Duke to put him out, fearing I would need the room to work to get Lincoln on his legs again.
Within 30 seconds of putting Duke out, Lincoln had once again found the floor, straddling the divider! Why had I not retrieved the camera while in the house after the phone? What a sight!
Figuring my only hope at extricating Lincoln was the use of a chain saw, I decided it would benefit me to move Diesel outside, too, now dancing and snorting at what he must have determined to be Lincoln's naughtiness.
As I said before, wish I had had a camera: by the time I once again got back to plot Lincoln's rescue, he had somehow hopped the divider, and was standing in his stall, with a look on his face that said, "Why you huffin' and puffin' so bad? Let's EAT!" All this, and not a mark on him.
The morning doesn't end there, however. While going about my morning chores (at a much more relaxed pace, I may add), I discovered my beloved pet English Game Bantam hen, Belinda, had passed away in the night. Such sadness I felt to open the door to her little bantam house to find her cold and lifeless. I shall miss her horribly, and I am sure her rooster, Herman, feels lost without her. Goodbye, Belinda.
Hay Diary -
The bays and Dolly finished the round bale in their paddock as of yesterday morning, Monday November 30. Because the greys are bathed and blanketed, they are spending more time in the barn, so I moved the three into the grey's paddock. That paddock still has some hay in the feeder, and I will let them finish it. Meanwhile, the four greys and the two ponies are consuming approximately 4 1/2 bales of hay a day.
It's New Year's Eve. Snowy day here, about four inches. After much deliberation, Terry and I made the decision not to send out two trucks, trailers and teams for contracted rides. We felt the trip in the storm (and we would have been on the road in the middle of the storm) was too much of a risk for our horses, our equipment, our people and ourselves.
