Get In Line

David and I got the harrow untangled without too much trouble and I ran it around the paddock like a mad woman this morning, watching those annoying tufts of grass tremble in Georange's wake. It appears immensely improved after one go round, so I hope that weekly dragging will keep it looking more fresh and tidy. Here's a picture of some lines:

Things are starting to happen in the garden now. Radishes are coming up in earnest, as are salad greens, spinach, potatoes, peas and onions. Although we amended the sandy top soil we bought last summer with lots of composted horse manure, we weren't sure whether it was nutritious enough to sustain such life. These lines are very heartening:

Finally, the Powers That Be are replacing the water line along our street. This involves a lot of heavy equipment (or doozers as David and I refer to them, in honour of Fraggle Rock), much to Titan's distress. On the night they delivered the equipment he was inconsolably afraid, jumping any old fence that got between him and perceived safety in our shed. Given that this work will be ongoing for several days we conceded by cutting a hole in the side of the shed so that he can use it for shelter. He looks very miserable in the following picture, but it is not because of the road work...it is because Raven is holding him hostage inside. He is afraid of her (smart dog) and she enjoys tormenting him. Tonka enjoys eating.

King of the Hole

Maybe I haven't mentioned this before, but Titan is a bona fide, card-carrying, capital dee Digger. He knows from long experience that this capital dee Displeases us, but sometimes he just can't resist. From the window I will watch him (1) sidle up to an interesting-looking spot (2) swipe a paw over it (3) check to see if anyone is watching and (4) dive gleefully into action when the coast looks clear. We crack down hard on this activity in the horse paddock because he digs deep, narrow holes that pose a threat to Tonka and the accident-prone Raven. In the goat paddock we let him work on projects that don't compromise the fence and he is pictured here with his masterpiece. It may not look like much, it extends almost two feet back under the grass, and goes about 18" deep. In another week or so he will be able to stash all three goats in there. (Aside to Carol: I guess he's not completely hideous.)

Criminal Minds

Another one of Titan's challenging behaviors has been an obsession with escaping from confined areas. In his few successful attempts we have found him still on the Farcical Farm premises, just not where we left him.

The steel gates on the horse paddock are about four feet tall with three feet of mesh and a one foot gap between the upper tubes (similar to the one shown). A couple of months ago Titan started pacing the perimeter of the horse paddock with purpose (alliteration!) -- nose in the air and eyes scanning for possibilities. When he got out the second time I started pacing the perimeter for evidence, and eventually found tell-tale white hairs in mesh of the gates. Our neighbors confirmed that he had been launching himself through the gaps, so I cut three panels from a 48" exercise pen in half and zip-tied them on such that the spikes (left from cutting the grid down the middle) poked up over the top of the upper tube. Designed to provide a nasty shock to any paws coming over the top of the gate while being no threat to the horses. Titan has not escaped from the horse paddock since.

Yesterday I noticed him doing the same perimeter check around the goat paddock, and ten minutes before I was due to leave (for my first hair cut in 8 months) I watched him try to launch himself over the gate (twice) and over the rail by the garage (once) where the top line of barbed wire has sagged. Before leaving I spiked the top of the gate with a row of thin, half-sunk nails and I draped a roll of barbed wire over the unprotected rail. I stressed the whole time I was out, and when David and I got home we drove a line of half-sunk nails all the way around the top rail. No threat to the goats because they are so short, and no threat to us because they sit directly under the barbed wire. They are only a threat to paws that should not be on the rail in the first place. A hot wire would have accomplished the same thing, but nails are cheaper, easier and fail safe.

I'm aware of how Draconian this solution sounds, but keeping Titan safe is our responsibility and our priority. Maremmas are notorious escape artists at this age (that is not him in the picture, but he is almost that tall compared to our 5 foot fence), and given his current penchant for chasing cars we have to assume that he will be a goner if he gets loose. What will his criminal mind think of next, and how will mine counter it?

At That Age

Titan will be one year old on March 23rd, which is my least favorite age for a dog. Like human teenagers they are constantly exploring their independence and pushing at the previously-established boundaries. Although Titan remains a sweet and companionable character on Farcical Farm, some of his behaviors over the past month have been more challenging than what we have come to expect. First amongst these is chasing cars.

It's important for you to understand that a livestock guardian dog (LGD) is not a pet dog, and treating one as such can ruin its working ability. Raising a good LGD requires a fine balance between interacting with the dog and just leaving it alone with its stock and its instincts for company. With too much training the dog will start looking to people for leadership, but with too little training the dog will not learn to respect its human handlers. Overall I think we have done a good job with Titan. He is completely independent in his decision-making about threats to Farcical Farm, yet he maintains a biddable attitude with people he knows. He has a nice "sit" command, he waits politely at gates, and he mostly comes when you call him. Tilley, Willow and Watson are absolutely convinced that he gets special treatment (they would never get away with 80% of the shit he can pull), possibly due to his lesser intelligence. He is not, after all, a herding dog.

Sometime over the past two weeks Titan decided that it is fun to charge the fence when he hears certain cars coming down the road. He completely ignores people-only cars, but he recognizes the engines of the ones that sometimes contain dogs from a good 200 meters away. Until now we haven't intervened because he is safely fenced and we aren't around enough to correct him consistently. But last night I just happened to be moving him and the goats back home from the horse paddock when his #1 nemesis pulled around the corner. Titan was off like a shot without a thought in the world for the screaming maniac behind him. Fortunately the driver saw him just in time (it was dusk -- thank goodness of daylight savings time) and we were very lucky. Until we figure out some solution (probably an invisible fence across the driveway) he will have no off-leash privileges in non-fenced areas. I had five or six horrible, bloody dreams about him getting hit last night, and I was probably too hard on him today for two fence-rushing car chase scenes. There was not, however, a third when the #1 nemesis went by this evening.

Superlative Sunday

0730 - 1030: Making money
Although I enjoy sleeping in on occasion, my brain works best in the morning and I hate to let it slip away. Most days (weekdays and weekends alike) start with me grabbing Obsidian (my laptop, a black MacBook) out of his bedside holster and remotely logging onto Pyxidis (my desktop, quad core blah blah RAM out the ying yang blah blah) who lives in my office on campus. Pyxidis runs all kinds of models for me at night, and I like to see what he's accomplished while I've been sleeping. This morning I started tinkering with some troublesome code, and it was 10:30 by the time I got it sorted out. A professionally productive start to a warm and sunny January Sunday.

1030 - 1100: Food machine
David often refers to me as "the food machine" because he thinks that's how the animals see me. Each of the dogs got half a cow's knee, the goats got their flake of alfalfa and the horses got their morning rations. Still lots of hay in the feeders from Saturday.

1100 - 1200: Late breakfast
Thick plain yogurt with crunchy sunflower granola, into which I mixed tiny and potent chocolate chips. Yummy! And one of David's magnificent mochas, care of Mr. Giotto. Enjoyed at the sun-flooded kitchen table with David, chatting about nothing in particular.

1200 - 1430: Moving muck
I mucked out the paddock and then David helped me to move all that manure lying in the pasture (where it got dumped on the snow days) up into the compost bin. We worked slowly in t-shirts, chatting and goofing around with the dogs between bouts of shoveling. Probably more fun than having a front-end loader.

1430 - 1530: Grooming
The horses have been naked for the past week of sunshine, and they have been rolling around in the muddy parts of the paddock. I groomed them both while they stood and ate at one of the feeders and then I turned my attention on Titan. With daily practice he is becoming more tolerant of brushing, and yesterday he lay quiet on his side for 10 minutes while I work on his undercoat with The FURminator.

1530 - 1600: Late lunch
David makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches ever, and I was lucky enough to get one for lunch. Enjoyed with a Vietnamese coffee and David's good company.

1600 - 1630: Working Raven
While I know that hand walking and trotting are the best exercises for Raven right now, I can't actually watch her move when I am moving alongside her. With some trepidation I put her on the 25 foot longe line to take a better look. Trepidation because (1) moving in a circle can be hard on an already-painful joint and (2) longing thoughtfully can be hard for Raven. It's obvious that people have used longing as a method of tiring her out in the past, and she tends to start cantering in mindless circles when she hits the end of the line. I found long ago that she is more comfortable without a whip, which is fine because her upward voice transitions are instantaneous and sustained. The downward transitions only work smoothly if I keep my voice and my body as quiet as possible. Today I managed to get her from a frantic canter into a walk within three circles, which is a record. We did lots of walking and a bit of trotting in both directions, followed by some hand walking up and down the pasture. Based on what I saw and heard I formulated a plan for moving forward, which will be the subject of another post.

1630 - 1700: Working Tonka
Where Raven hits the end of the longe at a canter, Tonka sees no reason to do anything other than stand around unless there is a whip actively involved. Once he got moving he was great with a big steady trot that makes my heart glad. Like many standardbreds Tonka doesn't canter too good, so we just did lots of walking and trotting. His downward transitions are instantaneous, which I attribute to sheer laziness rather than good training (though he does hold his pace admirably when he gets going). After that I took him down to the end of the pasture for some hand grazing. Raven does not like being separated from Tonka, and I need to start working on this if I want to ride him out and leave her behind. Every time she settled down and stood quietly I would bring him 50 feet closer to her. Hopefully with time and patience she will get the message that he only comes home when she keeps her head.

1700 - 1830: Phoning mom
A long conversation with my mother in Toronto. We talked about books, politics, family, pets, airplanes, travel plans.

1830 - 2000: Crazy casserole
I enjoy cooking when I have the time for it. A few weeks ago Roger gave me the recipe for a tasty caserole he made, and I have been wanting to try it ever since. We didn't have a lot of the ingredients in the house, but I substituted liberally (my modus operandi for all cooking). Scallions instead of yellow onion, some carrots to make up for the lack of crunch, some squishy tomotoes from the fridge instead canned, the ends of three different types of salsa instead of tomato sauce, and some really old Kraft Parmesan cheese I found in the cupboard a few weeks ago. It turned out great!

2000 - 2100: Chores
Another round of feeding followed by a shower. Our water was off all day and I was wrapping my head around the reality of showering at work before my morning meeting (sitting on the commuter train after a day like this would not make me any friends) when it came back on. Delightful!

2100 - 2400: Strict machine
You know that Goldfrapp song? I make my living using computers and sometimes I feel like a slave to Obsidian and Pyxidis. One of the best things about Farcical Farm is that it forces me to spend a lot of time away from my machines each and every day (have you guessed that I am a workaholic?). And on sunny days it gives me a good excuse to delay computer-dependent work until the sun goes down. Today was productive and pleasurable both personally and professionally. Who could ask for a better Sunday?

Hell in a Handbasket

You need to understand that it has been pouring in Deroche for the last 36 hours. The batteries are dead in our rain gauge, but I would estimate that at least 15 cm of rain have melted at least 30 cm of snow. Everything I am about to describe takes place under ridiculously wet conditions.

David left for work around 3 this afternoon and I got home around 8 this evening. I was met at the door by two piles of dog manure that appeared to be nothing more than redigested horse manure. Willow is the definite culprit, and she must have eaten A LOT if she was desperate enough to relieve herself in the house.

After cleaning that up and feeding the dogs I suited up to feed Titan and the livestock. David had called earlier to say that Titan was moping under the goat van and, sure enough, he was still under there. He greeted me with a pathetic whine and abject refusal to move. I was so worried about him that I crawled in with his dinner, which he proceeded to eat with gusto. Under the van is his go-to place when something scares him, so I assume that he was weirded out by the endless rain. He followed me when I crawled out, and I lay an ex-pen under there to make it uncomfortable. Hopefully he will choose his dog house or the inside of the van tonight.

Onto the horses. When Tonka's sheath first flared up I removed the leg straps from his rain sheet to prevent any rubbing. It has stayed in place all week without them, but this evening he was wearing it like a bib, swinging his forelegs to the sides to avoid walking in it. Miraculously both he and the sheet are undamaged -- have I mentioned how much I love the Schneiders products? Poor Raven was moving very stiffly on both hinds. I suspect it's because she has spent most of the day just standing in the shelter -- there is no heat or swelling in either.

We'll see what tomorrow brings, but I am very happy to be in bed now. I would be even happier if the rain died down.

White Christmas

Merry Christmas to all who are celebrating. I hope your day was a pleasant and joyful as ours.

Our cherry tree on Christmas morning. It was lovely to see the sun.

We had this cedar topped and limbed-up in the spring of 2007. That's the wrong time of year for doing drastic things to trees, but I hated how it obstructed the view of everything. It is my favourite tree at Farcical Farm, especially in winter.

Looking north from the end of the driveway, just past the cedar tree.

Country road, looking west.

Country road, looking east.

Horse paddock from the road, looking south. Nice to take the blankets off for a day.

We call the house the Ruddy Beast because our address ends in 666 (one sign is decorative, the other is reflective). According to municipal records our address should be 10670 so someone must have willfully adopted the mark of the beast at some point. You have to admit that Timbit and Titan are quite beastly.

Goat van in the snow. Quite a lot of snow.

Don't expect me to prick my ears and pose for you when I am eating alfalfa.

Is that thing in your hand alfalfa?

Tonka looks so sweet in that picture, and I want to comment quickly on his...er...man troubles. All swelling is gone and his body is back to normal. Furthermore is personality is back to normal. He had been a bit rank over the past weeks -- unusually grumpy and uncooperative (yet still quite sweet). I had assumed that it was the crappy weather, but I now assume that the lump stuck in his sheath had been bothering him for some time. Yet another good lesson in listening closely to your horse.

Picture Perfect

The meteorologists keep calling for rain and we keep getting sun, which is almost unheard of on the west coast. After last October this feels like a real treat, so I took David's camera (Nikon D50, compared to my Canon PowerShot) to document the day.

The Ruddy Beast with some fall colours in the background. Most trees on the BC coast are coniferous, meaning that we get pockets of spectacular fall colour instead of vast expanses.


One such pocket is right outside our neighbor's front door. Poor old Don died in the spring, but his daughter is doing a great job keeping his property neat and tidy, just the way he liked it.


Closer inspection of Don's property revealed a mama deer and her youngster grazing on his lawn. They both spronged off once noticed. Most folks around here have multiple dogs, so it is rare (and lovely) to see deer in these parts.


Turning eastward I see a fat horse bum and some mountains. Sometimes I wonder if Tonka and Raven appreciate the view from our plateau.


Turning southward I see my shiny black beauty and her dull black shadow grazing under sunny skies. The cut on her leg is 90% healed now, so I will take her for a ride if this weather lasts through the weekend (they are calling for sun, so it probably won't).


Titan and his shadow are keeping watch over the horse paddock. These pictures were taken before noon, so that should provide some indication of how short our daylight hours are getting. Under the old regime we would have dropped out of Daylight Savings Time by now (meaning this picture would have been taken just before 1pm), but under the new rules we don't fall back until the beginning of November.


The three stooges on their almost-daily trek from the goat paddock to the horse paddock. Herding three bad pygmy goats is akin to herding cats, mostly because they like to snack en route.


I am very fond of this picture. It captures the essence of bad pygmy goats perfectly.