WINKS, CHUCKLES AND TEARS FROM THE STABLE

I thought I might pen a few moments from my past that remain truly memorable. Some are funny, some are sad, some just plain silly. Hop on the hay wagon and listen in as I tell some wild tales that are in fact true stories and not fables. (No names are used to protect the identity of the person(s) involved.)

A STRIP TEASE MOMENT

This incident happened years ago, but was so hilarious Bob and I will never forget this day as it is burned in our memories.

We owned a playful young stallion that we purchased in hopes of gelding and making a nice lesson horse out of him. He was quite the character and very mischievous. Not bad, just a joker much like Opal. That is one thing I like about stallions; they are never boring and full of personality.

This one particular day our Gambler (that was his name) decided to have some fun with his handler who was leading him out to pasture for a pleasant day on the grass. Normally well behaved, he must have had a glint in his eye during that brief walk to the gate. The petite blond on the end of the lead shank strolled right along beside him. I think her shiny black dome pants were an attraction to him. Not sure what you call these things; Bob calls them dating pants,  but what happened next brought us to hysterics.

In an instant, the folly began. Gambler snatched the silken material between his teeth popping the fasteners on the pants. It left the embarrassed woman naked with just a skimpy thong barely covering the unmentionables. The harder she tried to retrieve her pants with one hand while hold onto the lead shank with the other, the more Gambler tossed the flimsy pants in the wind shaking them like a rag. I'm sure if a horse could laugh, he would be laughing tears. Bob and I were beside ourselves with laughter watching the stallion tease the woman for what seemed an eternity before he became bored with his antics. Eventually he dropped the pants, The owner quickly pulled them on the refastened several strategic domes. Not a word was spoken as she return from the pasture but she did have a scarlet face!

DON'T WEAR YOUR HAIR IN A PONY TAIL

This is another classic from the past again involving a young stallion.

We had a two year old Saddlebred stallion in for harness training many moons ago. He wasn't a particularly rowdy lad, but his hormones were raging with spring in the air. I wouldn't say he was a terrible bright individual, but he was quite stylish in his jet black coat, prancing to the beat of his own drum. We were in the early stages of long lining the young stallion when a strange incident happened. I had an assistant at the time heading the horse with a shank for the first few lessons while I long lined from the side, my header walked slightly ahead and to the side of the horse holding a loose safety line. After a few laps of the arena, the stallion slowly started to change his posture to a more regal pose. His gait became a little more lively. "Oooh, he stepping out quite handsomely ." I thought to myself. Then I noticed the neck stiffen and the nostrils flare. He was quite intrigued by my handler's pony tail that was sashaying from side to side. The stallion's eyes widened with excitement and he focused intently on that pony tail. At the last moment before he was about to mount the unsuspecting woman, I pulled him up and yelled my cautious to her. Never again did she put her hair in a  pony tail when working around this teenager young stud. That was a close one.

AN ARCH ENEMY FOR CAPTAIN

I have a plastic life size horse head I bought to demonstrate bit pressure during one of my workshops. We were going to rig sensors to it so it would register how much pressure was being exerted by different bits. One day the head was resting on the bench in the main aisle. I don't remember how it came to be there. The thing always reminds me of the movie "The Godfather" with the gruesome beheaded horse in the bed. I guess it also has a negative effect on good old Captain.

Bob was playing around with it one day pretending it was a live horse and even vocalized whinnies. Well,,,, Captain perked right up in his stall and grew another foot in height as Bob approached his stall with head in hand. Captain growled his disapproval that this bodiless horse would dare enter the sanctuary of his space. He screamed and banged at the door his protest. To this day, if anyone carries that dummy horse head around, Captain becomes very agitated and bold. At 16.1, who wants to argue with this large Morgan!

NECK REINING

Another funny bone moment was when a client of ours - let's call B, was working on his cantering on his mare LE. He set up for the big heave ho and put the mare into the canter phase. All was going well until the mare momentarily lost her footing slightly. The sudden drop of head and unbalanced rider found our Mr. B in a very awkward position to be riding the canter.  Round and around he went at the canter clinging to his horse's head while somehow balancing on her neck. Thank heavens it was a Morgan with strong muscles and not a horse to panic easily. I think he might have been trying to steer her by using the horse's ears but we were all laughing so hard, the tears coming down our faces skewed our view. I'm not sure how many laps of the arena he made but it was more than two. After an endless period of time, the mare broke to a trot and then to a walk with Mr. B still hanging on for dear life to her head and neck while wrapping his legs around her neck. LE finally stopped and lower her head to deposit Mr. B on his feet no less, his nerves rattled but all in one piece.

WHIP CROSSING

Once upon a horse show, we were having difficulty loading a junior horse in the trailer on our way home. We had practiced loading at home and even trailered her prior to the show. She was good being loaded to go to the show but when it was time to go home, she preferred to stay on the show grounds. After half an hour or longer, we were getting exasperated. By this time, we had a small crowd of helpful spectators sharing with us their wisdoms for loading. Now this is rather embarrassing since we don't normally have any problems loading our horses. We train them beforehand so this sort of thing doesn't happen. After being nice for so long, a fellow show competitor by the name of Mr. D suggested we give the mare one good crack of the whip as a last resort and see if that would persuade her bullish attitude to move forward. This is not what I like doing but it was getting dark and the parade of trailers were quickly dwindling from the show grounds. Sooooo,,,, I wound up real good and as I released the lash to its target, Mr. B (yes, the same Mr. B from the story about Neck Reining) walked into my path. The whip laid hard on it new target and as Mr. B yelled out in excruciating pain, the mare jumped into the trailer before the whip was recoiled. I'm sure she was thinking it would probably be aimed at her next. The horse was loaded, Mr. B had a stinging arm and I was red faced. He never let me forget it and warned passersby that I was deadly with a whip. That raised welt on his arm lasted for a week or more.

MIRROR, MIRROR ON THE WALL

I had purchased a couple of Morgan mares to use in my lesson program a few years ago. Both horses had come from another lesson barn. They were used as hunters so I thought I might have some new talent to add to my lesson program. The mares were quite cranky when I got them so I gave them a year off to settle and have a break from the often monotonous routine of life as a lesson horse. Since my lessons are all private, I was hopeful these girls would fit in to a less aggressive lesson program.

I started the horses back slowly and had just finished working the larger mare on the line. I turned her loose at the end of her workout for a little play time. The arena was void of any other horses; just her and I filling the vast space. Above the 4' kickboard and about another foot higher, was a large mirror fixed to a thick sheet of plywood. It was a handy tool for riders to check their position while riding. Both the new mares had been the arena for the past year and were aware of their reflection on the wall. But this particular day the big black mare decided to challenge the image. She was cantering around the arena seemingly glad to be free of the lounge line. Suddenly she turned on her haunches and barrel towards the end of the arena. She was charging like a bullet when all of a sudden she sprang into the air clearing the kick board and crashing into the mirror some 5 or 6 feet above the ground. The impact shock the wall and the terrible smashing sound of glass tore the horse apart as she slid down to the ground in a heap. My emergency first aid care took over as I summoned for a veterinarian and worked on keeping pressure on the wound that was bigger than my fist. It was a gruesome injury that lay open the horse's chest. Ice packs and towels held tightly slowed the bleed. Horses have a very long clotting time so you can imagine how it seemed like an eternity before the veterinarian arrived to clean and suture the wound.

The horse spend three months on stall rest and then another couple of months hand walking before everything healed completely. A very faint scar is all that was left as evidence of such a terrible accident. The mare was cleared as sound again and later sold.

That mirror that hung in our arena for some many years, has never been replaced.

BREEDING REQUEST

This had to be one of the strangest inquiries we had regarding a prospective client wanting to breed to our stallion. The problem was, the owner wanted to breed her nice GELDING. I said to her "you mean your mare." The response was dead serious with just a touch off annoyance detected in her voice.  "No. my lovely gelding." was her reply. I tried to explain to her that you can't possibly breed a gelding to a stallion. A mare yes, a gelding no. Trying to be delicate in my education of this horse owner, I had to restrain the urge to giggle loudly. I think the conversation ended in confusion or maybe embarrassment. Needless to say I never heard back from her again.


I HAVE A QUESTION

For decades we hosted many educational workshops here at the farm. One of the most popular workshops was one called The Confident Rider with Dr. H and myself. It was a huge success every time we offered it. Sold out for many years in fact. So many riders were looking for some skills and tools to help overcome their fears and develop new confidence in their riding careers. During one of these workshops when we opened the session up to questions from the floor, we received the oddest question. Dr. H was handling the psychology part of the program, while I dealt with the trainer and coaching side. The woman stood up, dressed in the high heels, a very fashionable dress complete with fancy hat and sumptuous jewelry. It was the sort of attire you don't often see or worn in a barn, but this doctor (yes, doctor) stood up and addressed the panel.

Everyone's eyes were trained on this stylish lady standing in a packed room of fellow equestrians giving careful thought to their upcoming questions they posed for Dr. H and I. She stood perfectly straight and clear of voice asking Dr. H and I the following question: "Why doesn't someone design a saddle with seatbelts and roll bars?" The classroom erupted into a roar of laughter but the doctor wasn't laughing, She was dead serious and never swayed. Her ego didn't seem bruised as she looked perplexed at the hysterical howls of laughter she encountered. Keeping a straight face, Dr. H tried to answer the participant's question with tact and diplomacy while suppressing those little giggles of humor in the back of her throat. Moving on.....

'MAYBE YOU'VE HEARD OF ME?'

Well I'm not that good at recognizing celebrities but I've had a few come through the doors of the stable over the years. Our farm has been used on occasion for movie production. On one of those occasions, the farm was transformed into a giant movie set for the filming of an episode for a popular children's show that is still in production today. The two hosts of the show introduced themselves to me while the film crew was setting up their volumes of equipment and cameras. Since I don't have children, I was sadly unaware of who they were and what celebrities they are on television. It was a long day of shooting and I gained an marvelous insight into the magic of movie making. Do you recognize them?

We had another television show produced at the farm but no surprises with that one. However, I received a rather interesting call one day.

The male voice on the other end of the line inquired about taking some private riding lessons. He explained that he was house sitting for a few days and had seen our farm sign offering lessons. I was open for a lesson the following day and put him on the board. He told me his name and then there was a pause on the other end of the line. "Maybe you have heard of me?" was his delayed response. "Sorry no I don't think so." was my reply. Then another query came my way, "Maybe you have heard of my band? We are quite well known." Again my reply was "Sorry, no." After we hung up, I turned to my farm manager and asked her if she knew of this person. Her mouth dropped open in stunned disbelief. "What?" I asked. Apparently this person was a famous rock star, but since those days are past for me the famous rock band was not on my radar.

The next day my new student arrived for his lesson. So flabbergasted that I didn't know who he was, he decided to prove to me he really was a famous singer. So right then and there he delivered his own rendition of the Elvis Presley classic "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" Wow, he really could sing!

I put him up on Joy and he seemed mesmerized by the horse. He's a big animal lover and just seemed enthralled with his lesson although he moved rather stiffly when he dismounted. So here you go, recognize him?

SNAKES AND LADDERS

We sold one of our most beautiful Morgan fillies to a client whose pockets were deep. Since I was very hesitant on parting with the lovely horse, the price tag was high. Reluctantly I made the sale. When you are in the business of breeding, you also have to sell your good ones.

A year or two after the sale, I got a call from the owner extolling such wonderful praise and jubilance over this smart filly. She couldn't get over how intelligent the mare was after an incident that happened sometime during the blackness of night. The peril that could have beset the horse was but a miracle that she was left unharmed. As the owner began to tell me what happened, I couldn't believe what I was hearing and shuttered to think was she was going to reveal next.

A very long extension ladder had been left in the yard where the horses were milling around during the evening. Knowing horses, they are accidents waiting to happen. Leaving such things as ladders and machinery in easy access of horses is not a wise decision. To make a long story short, the Morgan filly somehow got her head stuck between the rings of the ladder. For hours she walked around the crowded paddock with a huge necklace hanging from her neck. The ladder was fully extended. I can just imagine the panic as horses were being bumped and prodded by the extension ladder that had suddenly grown legs. Through it all the little Morgan kept her cool and stood quite still for hours on end before someone came to relieve her of her burden. That mill stone was finally removed and other than some strained neck muscles she escaped rather unscathed.

A LAKE CROSSING

We have had many an interesting trip with Big Blue and our six horse van over the years. One memorable trip was on a return trip from Vermont. We had dropped of a horse and were turning around for the trip back to Canada that same day. A storm warning was in effect so we wanted to try and get ahead of it. Instead, we ran smack into it. Try crossing a small low bridge in a blinding snow storm with deep water on either side of you as the bridge ices from the spray of the lake churned up by the strong winds of the north. The choppy waves where like the grim reaper beckoning us to the deep. Chills still run down my spine when I think of that terrifying journey across Lake Champlain. The flakes of snow were so thick it was almost impossible to see what lay ahead. I don't think I breathed the entire crossing, or at least very little. I was so relieved when we reached the shore in New York State.

DREAMING OF GALLOPING HOOVES

It happened on a steaming hot and still summer's night. It was a very long time ago and for some reason, I had to put three horses out in the paddock for the night. I never leave horses out at night as a rule so there must have been no room in the inn. I can't recall the reason, but it was a one time situation. I may have had extra horses in for training. It was a very temporary thing. Now back to the story.

The three horses were left happily grazing in the field backed up with hot wire to ensure their safe containment. All seemed well when I slipped away and fell heavily into sleep for the night. I left the window open to catch any passing breeze that might lift the heat of the day and carry it away. It was a peaceful slumber as I dreamt of galloping horses. It was so real that I actually woke. I listened carefully but everything was quiet. I went back to sleep and soon returned to my rest. The galloping horses entered my dream wave once again. So real! It brought me back to a conscious state. I decided I better check on the horses just in the event my vivid dream was more than that. 

I pulled on some day clothes and walked out the back door. To my surprise the three amigos greeted me in the driveway. I believe Captain was the ringleader followed by Gem and Joy. The horses followed me down to the stable as I led one of them by their halter. I secured them in another paddock until morning when I could check the fence line by the light of day. 

Later that morning I had a visitor to the farm. It was one of my neighbours up the road who asked me if I was missing any horses. "Humm... I don't think so." I replied to his question. "Let's go and check the field" I said as we walked to the paddock where the three horses were grazing. "No. They are all accounted for." I said. He gave me a strange look and then went on to tell me that he had an official from the municipality check his lawn for some large greenish brown deposits he found. The very proper official identified them. Horse manure was the conclusion of his investigation. 

I don't know how I ever kept a straight face. Then I shifted the blame to my good friend and neighbour who had a pair of Belgians in the field directly across the road from the lawn in question. I suggested that maybe they got out in the night and dined on his beautiful manicured greens. The old fellow shook his head in disbelief and left more confused than ever. 

I later shared my guilt with the farmer in question who always appreciated a good joke. He laughed so hard I thought he would pass out. Not his horses! The manure piles would be larger! He has since passed but I think he is still laughing as I write this post.

Now the moral of this story is that if your dream seems that life-like, then it probably isn't a dream. Those galloping hooves were in fact the threesome galloping on the pavement outside my window as they tore up the road and then came trotting home.  



WHY I REMEMBER - THE SILVER CROSS

Approximately thirty years ago I inherited a small leather covered box that contained a beautiful silver cross. The old lady that had passed, was related by marriage to a distant cousin of my mother. We were in British Columbia at the time clearing up the estate. This beautiful box and its contents intrigued me persuading me to discover its origin.

I knew it had a military connection. I learned it is not the sort of item a family wants to receive. With this medal comes the reality that a loved one has made the ultimate sacrifice and will never come home. So now I had something sacred lying in my hands. "Oh" I thought to myself. "I must pay homage to this soldier who gave his life for us and our freedom." My journey to uncover the mystery began.

I turned the medal over which was engraved with a service number and a name. It was a Canadian issued cross so at least I had a starting point.I went online and searched the military archives on the Canadian Government website. I was ecstatic when information I requested started to pop up on the screen. From these old microfiche files available I could now uncover the identity of this lost soul.

I learned his name, rank and other personal information. He was a soldier from World War I. His name was Sergeant Percy Hall. He volunteered to serve for his country - Canada. He was just 28 years old at the time of his death on Sunday, August 12, 1918. I have since learned that he was mortally wounded during a 10 hour hand-to-hand combat in the trenches near Parvillers, France. From his regiment, Private Thomas Dinesen was honoured with the Victoria Cross for his bravery.

He was a widower with one daughter, Marjorie Hall who resided in England. He was a clothing salesman by trade and lived in Montreal. He was the only son of William and Alice Hall who lived in Leeds, England. His remains lay at the Vimy Memorial in Pas de Calais, France. He was with the 42nd Battalion (Quebec Regiment) Canadian Army. He was born on October 14, 1889 and swore allegiance to King George the Fifth on his Attestation Paper for military service.  His physical description was average for the day I presume. He joined the army at age 26. He had brown hair, brown eyes and a dark complexion. He was 5', 8.5" tall and a average chest size of 36.6". He had a birthmark over his heart.

As I stare at his signature some 106 years later, I feel sad and proud to have educated myself about this lost soldier. I feel I know him. The elderly lady who kept his cross safe, lived in Leeds, England as a child as did her late husband. She too had served in World War II. So there was some connection there which I may never know. She had no family at the time of her passing and had left her worldly possessions to my mother who had been her friend and confidant over the years. My mother never knew of Sargeant Hall so the mystery of this silver cross lived in a shadow of a drawer for decades.

I think it was God's work that the silver cross came into my possession. Every Remembrance Day I used to wear Sergeant Percy Hall's silver cross around my neck and proudly show it to my young riding students. I told his story and ask them to say a prayer of thanks to Sergeant Percy for giving his life for us. It is not only wearing the poppy that reminds me of my freedom, it is the silver cross and the man behind it that makes Remembrance Day a more special place in my heart. God bless you Percy Hall. I remember you. A few years ago when a distant cousin of mine was visiting from England, she had done a bit of digging on our family tree. One name appeared way back in the archival records: "Hall" and specifically the same names of Sargent Hall's parents.  Perhaps I do have a connection to Sgt. Hall. Regardless, I continue to honour his memory and sacrifice. 

POSTSCRIPT.....On May 20, 2016 I had a break-in at my residence and the silver cross and its case was stolen along with other heirlooms and jewelry. I was devastated to have lost this precious cross. To this day, it has never been recovered. 

COVER STORY

Here is a brief cover story about my first fiction book titled 3ccs still in draft. Would love to have your feedback.

Three CCs

By Catherine Sampson

Kate Bronson’s equine security business was a flourishing venture but one that would see more than the occasional theft or drug use. Murder and mayhem was not typically on the roster as she made her nightly rounds to wealthy clients’ equestrian estates. For top trainer Jake Crowley, life ended in a stall at Crowning Moment farm on a late winter’s night. A suspected accidental death, Kate’s quest to uncover the truth about Jake’s demise and find his sole heir would take her on a global search. As her mission intensified, she would be fraught with danger as she slowly unraveled a complex story cloaked in a shroud of lies, mystery and suspense. On the precipice of unmasking the killer, peril and misfortune would follow her every turn. Despite her vulnerability, Kate Bronson forged ahead in her determination to solve Jake’s murder and find the daughter he had never known.

WHY I KEEP THE OLD HORSES

by Catherine Sampson

A young man stood in the entrance way to the stable trying to understand the connection with horses that his girlfriend seem obsessed with. As we chatted he hesitated for a moment before asking the question. "Why do you keep all these old horses?" he said. "They aren't being used anymore, why don't you take them to auction like other stables do?" he added. I smiled and looked out to the south. Trying to explain it isn't always about economics, I began my sermon.

"The ribbons may be faded, the applause silenced, but the memories of good rides and victory passes never leave." He cracked a smile as I went on. "Some of these horses I've bred, raised and trained. Many I have purchased. Some have been donated back to farm by their owners when they could no longer ride them. All have worked hard; all have trusted me with their welfare." I smiled back at him and then continued. "They are in fact an extension of myself. I care for them as I would like to be cared for." I went on. "Just because our bones are aged and some of us don't stride as easily or gracefully as our younger counterparts, we are wise." My visitor strained his ears to listen for more. "When they have aches and pains, I treat them. When they are tired, I rest them. And when I can no longer ease suffering, they are laid to rest by my veterinarian." I looked to the gravesite as I went on. "You see this horse business is an emotional business. It is unlike any other job you will have. These horses are a gift that are lent to us for a short time. We have a duty to care for them and not betray them. They have a history with humankind and I don't mean being displayed on a dinner plate." I continued with my sermon sadly acknowledging that the kill pen is the last stop for many unfortunate horses. "When you take on a horse, you take on a financial responsibility. It shouldn't be an impulsive purchase. You can never tire of it and throw the horse away when you are done with it." My visitor's face was softening as I pointed to a headstone. "I have a conscience that makes me at ease in my heart knowing my old friends have lived and passed on the lands they freely roamed and enjoyed. I gave them dignity in life and death and loved them all." As I turned back to face the young man, I noticed a small tear roll down his cheek. I think he got my message.

MY CAMPING DIARY 2013

July 1st CANADA DAY

As expected, the line of cars running bumper to bumper disappeared over the horizon. From Norland to the Haliburton Highlands, people drove by at turtle speed. The OPP were in force as promised. I spotted two smokies in the bushes. I had deliberately set the speed control at the speed limit so no worries on my part. I stopped in at Coboconk and pick up my groceries. The bill came to just under $170 for some veggies, fruit, a couple of prepared meals, ice, fire wood and starter fluid. This is the time of year these businesses make their money!

Back on the road Taboo (my Moluccan Cockatoo)  was merrily twirling around upside down in his cage. Once in a while he would break into song of different variations of ‘hello.’ He knew we were on an adventure again.

I finally arrived at base camp and checked in while retrieving the key to the gates. I had previously decided to eat at base camp before heading out. After a so so small 6 oz. steak, a Smirnoff and baked potato, that bill came to almost $40. 

With my belly full I made my way to 1.05 marker. The site was not the one I was at last year. Instead I was a small plot tucked in between to permanent leased properties. I was disappointed as the views aren’t as good and no way to get to the water without climbing down a steep slope. Now a generator is humming along next door. At least they have power. 

I started to unpack my camping equipment and decided I had better start with the kitchen stand. I opened the metal case only to smell that distinct order of pee and mouse turds! I don’t know how on earth they got into the case, but there was insulation and crap everywhere. It’s a metal case for god’s sake. I might just have to toss my great little stand. I managed to get the tent erected and decided I should maybe inflate my bed. Both the generator and the spare car battery were toast. Bob thought as much when he tried charging them. So tomorrow I will have to go into town and buy a 12 volt battery so I can sleep in the tent and charge my inventory of electronics. Bob said that I might just have to stay off the grid for the week. Well he might prove right as cell phone service is spotty. There is no wireless internet but I do like my laptop for typing on and watching the odd movie by the fire.

Zoey jumped into the lake when I took her down to the boat ramp. But as I type, her teeth are chattering with cold. I put her winter Shedrow blanket on to warm her a bit. She isn’t eating either. She has been off the past few days so I’m not sure what is going on. Deliverance on the other hand wasn’t sure of the water thing. He looked puzzled about it all. He never even put a paw in the water. Give im a couple of days and I hope I can convince him it isn’t that bad. After all he is half Lab.

Taboo is quiet sitting in his crate on the picnic table. With the night air starting to cool things off he will have to retire to the truck. Soon I’ll light a fire with my kindling wood I bought. (They had no logs so I have this humungous bag of small wood pieces.) 

There is very little room for a parrot and two large dogs. This going to bed early is tough, especially when I forgot my sleep meds and Advil. I read as best as I could from the dim light of my battery operated table lamp. I didn’t want to use the truck lights as it is the only live power source I have on board.

The dogs were restless and both vying for a good spot on my fold out back seat bed. Try as I might to sleep, I was still awake by midnight. My back was really giving me grief as the bed doesn’t lay totally flat. It was leaning a bit towards the floor so I was slowly rolling in that direction. On went the TENS machine for 20 minutes. Ah…. That felt better. It was hot in the truck with all these bodies. I had saved some mosquito netting and rolled the window down stuffing the netting in the opening. Fresh air at last. 

By morning I found myself partly on the floor with my arms touching the mat and my head not far behind still clutching the pillows. Two dogs stretched out on the rest of the bed looking very fresh and relaxed. For sure I’m on a hunt for a battery today.  

Tuesday, July 2^nd

It was 10 am before I managed to stumble out of the truck. I made a dash for the outhouse. If I had been in the other more secluded site, I could just squat behind a tree. This is going to be a problem when I take my water pills. They make a trough for women when in the outdoors so you can stand up and just pee like a man. It might be worth the investment.

Noisy, noisy, noisy… The logging trucks are running by every 10 minutes, along with the dump trucks hauling gravel I presume to fill the eroded parts of the road leading into the camps. The road is just a mere 30 feet from my site. I was on another site a few years back having to deal with the interruption of quiet peace I’m so desperately seeking. I vowed I would never go back. Chain saws buzzed all day long. If this keeps up, I might just take my laptop and go on a trail; find a nice flat rock and click away at my computer. This is awful. It is a constant barrage of rumbling diesel engines as a parade of heavy trucks bang and bump their way by my tiny spot in the woods.

I was successful in my shopping today in Minden. I got a new car battery and it instantly worked when I got back to camp and tried it out. Hurray!!!! I even got $15 off for donating my dead recycled battery. I picked up some canned dog food to see if Zoey Pearl will eat that. Her teeth are bad and in need of removal. I think that is part of the problem. As for Deliverance, he could care less. He ate Zoey Pearl’s breakfast too. I also got a dish washing pan and firewood. Now between on the kindling and real logs, I should have some roaring campfires the next several nights.

I stopped in at the Kawartha Dairy and order some Cherry Bordeaux ice cream. They don’t make banana splits anymore so I had to settle for a cone and two extra dishes for the dogs. Deliverance wasn’t quite sure what to do with ice cream. But eventually he tried it and licked and slurped away. Zoey of course finished hers and Taboo had a bit of cone. It was off to the camp once again.

I’m really excited to have my bed in the tent tonight. I’ll probably leave Zoey in the truck and just have D with me tonight. She gets so cold in the tent. I have a coat for D so I might just put one on him as well. It is cool and over cast but at least it isn’t raining like last year! (I better not say that too loud.) I think the cooler temperatures are even keeping the bugs at bay.

I’m just going to start dinner on my faithful Coleman stove and grill. I love this little stove. Coleman makes the best. Tonight I’m having veal parmesan with pasta. For tomorrow’s menu, I’m on to Chicken Alfredo in cream sauce. Everything tastes better outdoors. And the Merlot is perfect.

July 3^rd

I watched a movie last night by the campfire and then retired to my tent with D. I put Zoey’s coat on and left her to guard the truck with Taboo. I read for a while before extinguishing my lamp and pulled the covers over my shoulders. It was comfy and warm. So wonderful to have my Queen’s size bed again, this time only sharing it with D. 

I woke several times in the night to Zoey Pearl’s thumbing in the truck; her bear bells tinkling. She is a restless sleeper as she repositions herself several times making sure everyone knows it. The bull frogs were at it as well with their deep throated double bass signaling for a mate. Finally I drifted off to the silence blackness of the night. 

I awoke at 7 am and proceeded to visit the loo before anything else. I cooked a big breakfast for the dogs, Taboo and I. It consisted of eggs and bacon, toast with peanut butter, orange juice and coffee. Everyone enjoyed samplings from my plate. Taboo of course loves his toast with peanut butter and the dogs devoured the bacon and eggs. 

After I fortified my body with food, the dogs got their second entre: dog food. Zoey Pearl was in a playful mood so I tossed her a stick in the water several times. She was very deliberate in her retrieves. Her swimming has much improved and I feel Coco’s spirit guiding her through the water. How I miss Coconut. It was then I decided to go to the launch area where Coco had his last dives from the dock into the warm water of Lake Macdonald. I removed my Crocks and socks; rolled up my pant legs and proceeded into the water. I was trying to coax D in and see if he would retrieve. With intrepidation he slowly walked into the water with the lure of a knobby stick. It was a bit embarrassing to see such caution from a dog who is half Labrador Retriever. Still I can understand his reluctance to water since he probably has never seen a lake before. How sad. The best I could do was to get D to go as far as his chest. He is very much like me. If we can stand up that means it is safe. I can relate to his fear of the bottomless deep waters. Drowning is not on my list of things to do.

After a spicy bowl of chili, the dogs and I headed out for walk on the Nordic Trail, soon followed by the Dog Trail. This would be first off leash trail walk. After a few minutes of keeping him on leash, he soon followed Zoey untethered for the remainder of our 2 hour hike in the bush. The trail would take us up inclines of rock and boulder, on swamp-like foot trails; passed marshes and through some dense brush. I had my new ThermaCell mosquito repellant hooked securely to my hip. This would be a real test to see how good this propane lit mosquito buster would work. Although I had miniature black clouds of bugs around me, none landed on me. I was relieved it actually worked because I didn’t take any backup system. The only thing that concerns me is the smoke it emits and when the wind shifts, you inhale it.  Can’t be good for you with all the poison warnings on the wrapper.

Deliverance strayed from the trail only for brief moments. He came back on recall every time. Although Zoey Pearl dove right into the marsh and swam around its murky waters, D played it safe and only followed the shoreline getting just his paws wet. He was content just exploring the bush.

D off leash

Zoey Pearl in the Marsh

Trail Buddies

I read, read again and read some more. Need a change of pace from Anne Rule’s true crime novels. I’ve now read so many murder scenarios I have a bit more thoughts for my own book (totally fictional).  What I have noticed from the more recent books she has published is the word smithing aspect of her writing. A lot of the unusual choices of words she uses I have never heard. Still I like a challenge to investigate her variations of choice in describing things. It is part entertaining for me to read her work and part educational. She has some wonderful ways of describing her characters and scenes.I never have time to just curl up with a good book so this is my chance to do it.

Dinner was heavenly with Chicken Alfredo and a side salad. I topped it off with a cup of tea before taking the dogs for a walk over to the boat launch. A couple of ducks quacked their hellos from the middle of the lake. Zoey Pearl was wishing they could just swim a little closer so she could retrieve them. No luck I’m afraid. D showed some interest in them as well but his fear of a vanishing lake bottom prevented him for even entertaining the idea of fetch. 

I resumed reading again getting the fire pit ready for my evening blaze of flames and orange ambers. I have another movie to put on. The natural light is slowly drifting off into dusk so I will return to my camp fire and evening entertainment. D is sleeping on his mat beside my chair and the campfire. It’s been a busy day for all of us. Tomorrow I’m off to find fuel for the truck that is getting very thirsty. I hope the gauge is accurate and I make it to Minden ok. I should have left Orono with a full tank instead of half a tank like I usually do. Stupid, stupid, stupid me.

Years ago we got stranded with Big Blue our other medium duty towing vehicle. We had the six horse trailer full and were heading home late from a horse show. There were no gas stations opened so we were hoping we could make it. That didn’t happen. We were stranded on the side of a lonely very dark road. It’s a long story, but one thing you never ever do, is let a diesel truck run empty. You can’t just put fuel in the tank and turn the key. It is a very complicated and expensive process to get the truck running again. I should know better.

July 4, 2013

I had a horrible sleepless night. I thought I had forgotten to pack my sleep meds. I have a very disturbing sleep disorder that was diagnosed several years ago at a sleep clinic. I need muscle relaxers to send me off into deep sleep. Otherwise I am just under the surface and awake to the slightest noise of bit of light. Last night I tried in vain to fall asleep. Usually reading helps but not last night. I can tell you how a night in the forest goes from dusk to dawn. There was an annoying bull frog that kept bellowing all night. You could time his croaks. About every 20-30 seconds he would inflate himself and burp out his call. I was tempted to find a fishing net and flashlight. It would have been great to scoop him up and move him to the other side of the lake.

The hours ticked by, 1:30 am, 2 am, 3am, 4 am, 5 am. By this time the sky started to shed its curtain of night and allow the new day to emerge. Birds started to sing and the bull frog finally accepted his laryngitis and was quiet. By 6 am the work trucks of the day started rolling in. I finally got to doze off into a light sleep. I hate that type of sleep. I always have nightmares when that happens. I dreamt that I was lost and couldn’t find my way home. I walked for hours on deserted streets looking for anything familiar. I’m sure my feet were walking in my sleep as the dream took on a realistic hopeless feeling of abandonment. I was struggling when I finally awoke at 9:30 am. A light sprinkling over the tent signaled rain. By chance I found my pills in my clothing bag. Tonight I will take one.

After a short simple breakfast of English crumpets and a cup of coffee, I fed the dogs before taking them for the morning constitution. A lone loon stationed itself in the centre of the lake. It was a magnificent icon of the forest and wetlands. How majestic it looked in its solitary moment as it paddled and drifted with the slow moving currents of the lake.

The truck was packed and I rolled out of the site with great impulsion. The hill is loose fill and steep. Toot (my truck) doesn’t care for the terrain and protests with spinning wheels as it snakes it way up. The speed has to be sufficient or the dual tires dig ruts into the path of travel. It is dangerous to boot it up the hill as there is a bend in the main road just where my drive exits. I did have to slam on the brakes at the top of the incline. Sure enough a truck was coming around the bend. 

Off we drove cautiously with a fuel deprived tank. I turned off the air condition and rolled the windows down. I slipped my foot of the gas pedal going down hills to save fuel. I keep the speed moderated as I followed the windy and hilly road to West Guilford. When I reached the small village of unmentioned population, I rolled into the only gas station hoping they would have diesel fuel. They did! I put $150 in the tank and the gauge read full. I could relax now and drive more at the speed limit. On to Minden we went. After a brief stop of the Canadian Tire Store, I headed back to camp. The gas gauge dropped to just under ¼ tank. It must be the hills that eat the fuel like candy on a Halloween night.

As usual Taboo draws a crowd wherever we go. Not too many people are used to seeing two large dogs, a parrot riding shotgun and an old lady driving a big medium duty truck (not a pick up) with a train whistle. I got a lot of waves and comments. This time was no different. The gas attendants just had to tell how wonderful it was to see such a lovely bird go camping no less. They were both stunned and amazed. Taboo drew similar attention in the Canadian Tire parking lot. “Is that a Cockatoo?” one gentleman asked. I responded to the affirmative. “Beautiful bird!” he exclaimed as his eyes sparkled in amazement. “Thank you and yes he is quite the bird.” I responded. Little do they know the story of Bruiser eh.

Back at camp I settled back into my book and finished it. The noise from the road is annoying with many cars and trailers rolling by. It is a disadvantage being so close to base camp. You get all the traffic coming in. Then two sites down there is a young family with a very yappy little dog. Mine are angels with just the occasional bark at passersby. Even Taboo is silent. Then a chain saw groaned away. That damn bull frog was at it again. I finally resigned myself to the fact I had no control over the volume of disturbances, so I retired to my tent for a while.

A quick shower lasting 20 minutes brought some relief from the mugginess of the day. Steam rose from the sandy soil as tall cedars kept an umbrella over my picnic table. It was the only thing more or less dry. 

Tonight I treated myself to a rib eye steak. Ummm Ummm good. I washed it down with a glass of Merlot. I eat better on vacation than I do at home. Must be something in that campfire smokey air that plays havoc with your senses of taste and smell. 

I started a campfire to dry my chair out after a late afternoon rain. It is starting to mist over again with a dash of moisture falling from the skies. I have my rain coat hanging over my computer right now to protect it while I dash in a few more keystrokes. The dogs have had their evening walk. The noses pressed hard to the dirt like a hound dog on a scent. I’m ready to settle down to a movie by the fire. It will be an earlier night tonight as I roll into my bed for a long dreamless night. D will join Zoey Pearl in the truck tonight with Taboo. He’s a good boy, but he takes up a lot of room on my Queen size bed. Often he sleeps where I stretch out. So for tonight I will be dogless in my tent. Don’t worry, I keep my keys with me and if some marauding creature should sniff around my tent, I can use the truck alarm to frighten it away. Besides, I know that the two dogs in the truck just a few feet from my tent with also sound alarms. 

July 5^th

My campfire was short lived last night. The firemen arrived from above and doused the roaring flames that engulfed the logs in my rock fortress. I took cover in the truck after gathering all the delicate electronics and putting them in dry shelter. I then finished watching my movie in the comfort of “Toot.” The rain had lifted by the time I entered my tent for the evening. I grabbed my little pill so I would finally have a good night’s rest. After 20 minutes of reading, I could feel the effects and decided it wouldn’t be long now before I melted into sleep. I turned the last page and closed my book. I extinguished the lamp and rolled over under the covers.

Morning came with a bit of sunshine to smile on the day. When I emerged from my sleeping den, the earth was damp. My carefully dried out chair was once again soaked in rain. Where to sit? Then I had a light bulb moment and put on my rain gear. At least my jeans and underwear would stay dry.

Today I have a number of things planned. I’m going to the Wolf Center and see how the remaining wolves are doing since that terrible night on New Year’s Eve when some idiot or idiots decided it would be fun to release the captive wolves into certain death on the loose. It was a well-orchestrated plan. It was obvious from police investigations that the person or persons unknown had studied the compound and patterns of employees. They chose to cut the outer perimeter fence which at one area meets closely to the inner containment fence. Their cut created a large gap for the wolves to escape.
To summarize, after weeks of trying to locate, live trap and/or entice them back into the compound with food, two of the mature wolves were shot to death and left on the roadside. A couple of more seemed to have survived the winter. The sad part of this whole event was that the young wolves from last year’s litter were left alone to fend for themselves. Although not confirmed, they believe this was the work of an animal rights group who obviously decided that death by a car hit, starvation or wounded by bullet only to die an agonizing death was better than living wild in a controlled environment of a large natural compound were their pack lived in harmony. This world renowned research center into wolf behavior and education suffered a terrible loss. Criminal charges are pending on anyone one of these culprits found responsible.

I also want to take a look at the young moose they are waiting to release back into the wild. It has lost an antler. Hopefully as it grows, it will be able to cope with life in the woods and be able to protect itself from predators. 

I took the dogs for their walk strolling by the campsite I had last year. It is occupied with a large trailer and other such amenities. I think it must be leased now. Too bad. I really liked that site.

I drove to the Wolf Center and spent at least an hour. I talked with the tour guide and discovered a little more to the story that developed on New Year’s Eve. To begin with, no suspects have been arrested but the case is still on going with the OPP. The two wolves shot were just a few yards from the main gate of the enclosure. Although not known for sure, strong suspicion is that a local trapper who has a license for wolf took them down. The only thing illegal was that it was in a protective animal reserve. He has not come forward for obvious reasons. The one female wolf survived for a 2 weeks before they found her near death on the side of the road. Although all attempts to save her by a local veterinarian proved fruitless. She died 48 hours later. She had sustained two gunshot wounds.

The one alpha female has not been seen. Whether or not she survived the winter is purely speculation on anyone part. Lone wolves very rarely live long without a pack for protection and socialization.

I had the guide identify my wolf pictures from last summer. Poor Haida (black wolf) is the one lone wolf still missing. The other wolf Grissom died sometime after this photo.

Haidi (missing)

Grissom (deceased)

The surviving pack is down to just four wolves and no leaders. They are looking for a western timber wolf male to introduce to the pack. They want to continue their research and educational work here and now to rebuild the breeding program. I learned more about the incestuous family life of the wolf and why packs are so distinct and separate. Did you know in the wild a wolf’s personal space is 50,000 acres of territory it calls its own and defends it. I can’t imagine we would ever be over populated with wolves given this fact. 

 On the way back I went in search of Hershey, the young moose in captivity soon to be released. After a bit of scouring the brush in its super large enclosure, I found him resting near some trees. As you talk to him, it is obvious he is use to human voices and appearances and visitors. The wild side of him hasn’t come out yet and that’s a good thing. Since he is still an adolescent, it is probably safe to be around him.

At the same area a group of hogs rested in their pen. Like Hershey, it is a very large pen with shelter. Two piglets came over to investigate my camera. I just had to name them Fred and Barney. (Fred being the white pig and more assertive with Barney the red spotted pig as the devote follower.) The large sow I named Wilma. So the whole Flintstone family with the rock rubble fence live next close by the Hershey.

When I arrived back camp a family of ducks paddle by my tent. A moma duck, a daddy duck and 8 little ducklings stayed in formation as they swam around the shoreline. Now this was really testing Zoey Pearl’s patience. She so badly wanted to go in and retrieve them. D looked on with great interest as well. But D is more of the Sherlock Holmes type dogs. He has to access all scenes of possible crime before he makes a decision. Besides he has overcome his reluctance to just dive in. 

Off to the boat launch with the dogs for another brief visit. I took along my camera this time as I wanted to get some photos of the wild iris in the water. I managed a few snaps of Zoey and D as well.

Tonight’s menu was meatloaf and garlic potatoes. I have to start gathering things up for my packing tomorrow morning.

I took the dogs for one last swim down at the launch. A group of young teens and a couple of camp counselors supervised them. Zoey Pearl was in her element. There were lots of people to throw sticks for her in the water. Time and time again she propelled herself into the water like a torpedo chasing that sometimes elusive stick. She made a big splash off the end of the dock bringing a whale of cheers from onlookers. She totally submerged before rising to the top and swimming like mad to get the object of her obsession. D on the other hand was just content receiving all the pats from strangers. No way Josie was he chasing a stupid twig in deep water. Got to be nuts to jump off a dock! 

My last camp fire roared to life as I hunkered down into my chair and watched a movie. Soon the evening would wrap its arms of stillness and dark around all things visible. I kissed the sky goodnight and fell fast asleep on my lovely bed and surrounded by flimsy nylon walls and mosquito netting. 

July 6^th

I awoke to a bright sky and sunshine. Now it was time to hustle and pack all things away in the storage bins onboard Toot. With everything finally secure, I did one circle truck inspection before climbing into the air ride seat and turning the ignition. Off we went heading down to West Guilford where I was to meet Kaleigh and drive her back to the farm with me. After a healthy feast of bacon and eggs, coffee and toast, we climbed into the truck and made our way south. I was really looking forward to having a refreshing shower, washing away the remnants of wood smoke, perspiration, and just plan dirt. A week in the woods can make your skin crawl so it is such a treat to have a good cleansing.

Amen to another year of camping. 

KENNAN'S MEMORY a full life and more

It's been a quarter century since we made the long trip to Topeka, Kansas to pick up two Morgan mares for our future breeding and showing program sight unseen. My eye was on Kennan's Rhapsody, the elegant champion young show mare that would prove to be a stunning show horse in another country and even better champion producing broodmare.

Then there was little Memory. She was cute and small. The breeders had been disappointed that she wasn't going to mature much beyond 14.2. The size didn't matter to us as I was thinking of her as a driving horse. On paper she had a dream of a pedigree. She was by Fairfield Fortune out of Whitmor Memory Lane. When you looked at her with a critical eye to conformation, things came up a little short in the literal sense. She had a big body and short legs. But mother, could this horse trot and hold her own. When we were first introduced to them on our arrival at the Kennan farm, Memory's owner was hand feeding her. When she hesitated, Memory bit down hard on her arm demanding her treat. I took notice and wisely gauged that this mare would need some manners. Memory was two years old and Rhapsody was four. We loaded them up and headed north to Canada.

Sire, Fairfield Fortune

 As the horses settled into their new home, we began to work with them. Memory was broke to harness and by the second season we hit the tanbark. Memory strutted the show arena and was runner up to her stablemate Rhapsody. Both mares were elegant driving horses but since Rhapsody had the better build, she won over Memory.

As a pleasure driving mare at home, just point her and she will go. There was a time when she trotted through a commercial sprinkler system that showered the roadway for approximately 300 feet. The sprinklers were crossing paths from one bed of seedlings to another separated by a narrow dirt road. Memory never missed a beat and drove straight and true right through the rain of sprinklers that dampened the roadway. 

I hadn't planned on a breeding avenue for Memory but thought we might get lucky with the right nick. She was bred to two stallions during her life as an on again, off again broodmare. Trillium Samson and Serenity Intrigue were chosen as suitable mates. Samson went on to be our leading sire at the farm. The elder Intrigue, a full brother to the legendary Val's Terry (18 times world champion) left us many wonderful offspring, both champions and wonderful talented friends. Both sires took the best of Memory and combined their own attributes producing a number of champions for us. One of Memory's offspring by Serenity Intrigue resides in Scotland.

Trillium Samson

Serenity Intrigue

At one point she gave birth to twins. The filly, Trillium Spring Promise, survived and went on to great things.

Trillium Spring Promise out of Kennan's Memory

Trillium Precious Memory with Kennan's Memory

Trillium Whisper O Spring with Kennan's Memory

Trillium Intrigue's Spirit with Kennan's Memory

Trillium Cameo Silhouette out of Kennan's Memory

Trillium Evening Primrose out of Kennan's Memory

During her tenure as a broodmare, Memory also fostered another foal while nursing her own. The tiny partbred filly had been rejected by her dam who also threatened this newborn with death. Memory's own foal was just two weeks old and seemed to be the only option for this filly to survive. With very little intervention, Memory accepted the foal along with her own foal Trillium Evening  Primrose and raised the two to weaning stage.

Orphan Annie (left) - Trillium Evening Primrose (right)

Late in her teens, Memory was introduced to riding. After years of being a driving lesson horse we decided to expand her resume of talents. She would become a great walk/trot horse for children and small adults. As our beginner horses passed on, Memory was move up the chain. Today she is our beginner horse and at 27 she shows no signs of letting up.She seen the arena as a showmanship horse, walk/trot horse, leadline horse, driving horse, in hand horse and breed demo horse. She has been a teacher, mother, clinician horse and babysitter. She has done it all and done it well.