Hay, Hay, Hay!

Today the co-op delivery guy came in his pickup truck, dropping off five bales of wood shavings, a bag of alfalfa cubes, a bag of beet pulp pellets, and two other bags of different pellets, all for the horses. Also horse vitamins. And I helped him unload the four pieces of a new outdoor pen for the dogs.

I didn’t take any photos today, though. Unfortunately, not knowing how Shelley’s camera downloading system works, I had to wait until she got home tonight before I could share yesterday’s adventure with you, but here it is finally.

It takes two people to deliver those humongous hockey-puck-shaped hay bales. Those two people are Ed and Doran.

Doran lives just over the way. He drove his tractor down and got here first. We gabbed for fifteen minutes or so before Ed arrived with the twenty bales on his flatbed.

Here’s Ed. A few of the bales were already pushed over onto the front lawn by the time I took this picture.

Now Doran, his tractor is equipped with this gigantic pickle fork that’s just right for moving those bales. The tine in the middle is the longest of the five.

He digs in…

… and upsa-daisy!

Doran didn’t have a whole lot of room to manoeuvre, but we couldn’t find the keys to the van. Anyway, he moved all the bales to where they were wanted, 17 in the side yard and three in the paddock.

And home he went, with a wave and a smile.

Ed had left first, as soon as the bales were off his flatbed. But while I was handing him the cheque, he shared an obvious joke: “You can tell the first cut from the second cut.” Except that I had no idea what he was talking about. I was, however, courageous enough to give him a blank look, and he kindly explained. “The green bales are the second cut. The first cut bales are green inside, but brown outside.” Later, Shelley told me that the first cut has more alfalfa, and the second cut has more leaves of other grasses, such as timothy.

First cut or second cut, all the bales need shelter from the rain and snow. I was very proud of myself for having tarped them all by myself. It was fun clambering over the bales to pull the big plastic sheet over them.

Nero is a second-cut fancier. Dee-lish!

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Hi, everybody! I’ve been up since 05 30, and it’s going on for 10 pm now; time to hit the hay. (Lot of talk about hay lately) .

I went for a walk, I fed the horses, I let the dogs out, I let the dogs in, I let the dogs out, I let the dogs in, I tidied a little, I… sknknkzzzz…

“Who wants to go out?”  Corey is all ears.

And Brogan gives the green light.

The Icelandic sheep next door, however, give me the cold shoulder. Wait… the sheep are in the meadow!

Nero and Manitou bid me good morning.

There were other dogs too, three grownup boys and four grownup girls, but they sleep in the basement like me. The day began in the living room, and ended there too, where the puppies sleep. But first, a little fun before bed…

Ember shows Sam who the real Santa Claus is. Woo-hoo!

Brogan runs off with a saucy little redhead.

And Shelley gives Corey his first lessons in being a therapy dog.

Maybe a few pictures of the grownup dogs tomorrow.

Hay is for Horses

Keep your nickers on. Or your whinnies.

Well, boys and girls, what will Auntie Turtle be doing this week? Guess! It has something to do with horses… and getting used to their bigness… and helping to maintain their bigness, even!

Yesterday, my son and I had the bestest-ever visit together. He has to go back to work tomorrow, and planned to take the noon-hour bus today. He had just gotten up, and was enjoying a nice cup of coffee while I made a hasty tour of my blog buddies, skipping a few of them as my fingers trickled through the list (so if you didn’t get any comments, it’s ’cause I never got there) . One blog — and, after reading it, I decided it would be the final one this morning — was Shelley’s.

Shelley’s husband Chris hasn’t been feeling all that great lately. Shelley wrote yesterday that he was in the nearest hospital, and she was worried because the pain in her knees makes it very difficult to walk all the dogs or climb up in the loft to throw down hay bales for their two horses.

Now, guess who isn’t working for anybody this week? Jack’s Mom is staying home for his first two weeks of grade seven, Robert and Jane don’t need a catsitter, and I’m no longer with the pet store. So, just on the off-chance that Shelley hadn’t found anyone to help out, I phoned her up.

And that was that. Sonny Boy made a delicious breakfast of huevos rancheros while I fed the dogs and took them on potty break; we all had breakfast; Sonny Boy and I packed; I washed the dishes while E.g. gave the house a quick sweep; and we all piled into the car. We dropped Sonny Boy at the bus station just before 11 00, and arrived at Shelley’s just before 13 00.

The good news is that the hospital figures Chris can come home today after all, even though he’s still feeling fairly lousy. But I’m staying for a few days anyway, out in the middle of the country, to help with the chores and maybe sneak away to a nearby marsh with my binoculars once. I’m enjoying it already: I can hear crickets instead of condo construction, can you believe it?

Wow. I’m not home again. Maybe I should look into making a living as a travel writer.

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PS Don’t forget to enter Turtle’s latest contest – everyone’s a winner! And, to use a farming term, I need fresh fodder for my limerick mill. Ta-ta for now.