More on Guerma's progress
By now, I have had the chiropractor out to adjust Guerma, and have eaten all of the cookies that the girls brought by. Its raining, producing a sullen drizzle, but the plants love it, I know the new bare-root roses need it, and I am still hoping that a nectarine that I planted will pull through.
Rain might help that.
Anyway, I hope the rain might help them all. The few bare-root transplants producing buds already give me reason to hope this will be a good growing season with no loss of the new roses to disease or bore beetle. I dunno maybe I will put out some systemic fertilizer, and hope it does no harm to my silly chickens...
Guerma's out in the rain, probably. I tried to put her in a stall, but the only one available has been next to Mahiar, who came from the same place Guerma was bred. There's no love lost between those two. I swear Mahiar holds something against Guerma from her unhappy childhood in the same pasture. Well, I cant blame her for that. It was a pretty tough neighborhood, and tough lessons learned are rarely forgotten, and in this case, forgiven. So we experimented. Guerma got locked into her "house," the box stall portion of her accommodations, since it was going to rain.
She paced relentlessly.
We relented and let her out. Then we locked Mahiar into her house. Angry Mahiar. Picture a demon trapped in a pickle jar-- She was about that happy... So we swapped her out with Jenny, in the end, and had her stuck between her old friend Aunt Jenny, and her other friend Olli. That way, Guerma has a friend as a neighbor, and Mahiar has no excuse to misbehave. It really does seem ironic that I picked a name for that rawboned black filly, that means "love and tender feelings," when she acts any way but loving and tender. Ohwell, I had hoped that perhaps a gentle name would have helped. It is indeed possible that it has, and that fate is having a good laugh at me.
So Guerma stands out in the rain, preferring her yard, and will not voluntarily go into her house.
At least she has been adjusted.
Now that was a positive difference that I could immediately make. The chiropractor spent damn near forty minutes, (give or take, it seemed like an hour to me) on this poor mare, unjamming jammed hips, unlocking locked shoulders, and unkinking her withers, and freeing up her stuck neck. When Gisa was done with Guerma, my friend who does similar things to humans was in a state of pure awe. The sheer compassion and intuitive knowledge of that woman are amazing. But watching Guerma turn into a different horse was a privilege. Guerma's eyes looked clearer, and she was certainly moving better, and stretching her neck and legs like a human who had just gotten off a very long and cramped flight would. Guerma looked around her with a lot more interest and seemed to be just noticing that she was in a new place, and that it didn't look so bad.
For the first time since she arrived, I relaxed and felt like I could do this rescue, and get this mare back into the shape that God meant for her. I had hope. The horse I was just sure had existed within her, was ready to be glimpsed, again.
For now, that lovely horse is wet, from standing out in the rain, and looks bedraggled and in need of some brushing and untangling. But thats ok. She's fed, she's unkinked, and soon, she will know that the people on this property mean her no harm, and only good. She wont believe that when the dentist comes, but afterwards, I hope that maybe she will guess that something in her life has improved, once more. I hope.
I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope.....
Rain might help that.
Anyway, I hope the rain might help them all. The few bare-root transplants producing buds already give me reason to hope this will be a good growing season with no loss of the new roses to disease or bore beetle. I dunno maybe I will put out some systemic fertilizer, and hope it does no harm to my silly chickens...
Guerma's out in the rain, probably. I tried to put her in a stall, but the only one available has been next to Mahiar, who came from the same place Guerma was bred. There's no love lost between those two. I swear Mahiar holds something against Guerma from her unhappy childhood in the same pasture. Well, I cant blame her for that. It was a pretty tough neighborhood, and tough lessons learned are rarely forgotten, and in this case, forgiven. So we experimented. Guerma got locked into her "house," the box stall portion of her accommodations, since it was going to rain.
She paced relentlessly.
We relented and let her out. Then we locked Mahiar into her house. Angry Mahiar. Picture a demon trapped in a pickle jar-- She was about that happy... So we swapped her out with Jenny, in the end, and had her stuck between her old friend Aunt Jenny, and her other friend Olli. That way, Guerma has a friend as a neighbor, and Mahiar has no excuse to misbehave. It really does seem ironic that I picked a name for that rawboned black filly, that means "love and tender feelings," when she acts any way but loving and tender. Ohwell, I had hoped that perhaps a gentle name would have helped. It is indeed possible that it has, and that fate is having a good laugh at me.
So Guerma stands out in the rain, preferring her yard, and will not voluntarily go into her house.
At least she has been adjusted.
Now that was a positive difference that I could immediately make. The chiropractor spent damn near forty minutes, (give or take, it seemed like an hour to me) on this poor mare, unjamming jammed hips, unlocking locked shoulders, and unkinking her withers, and freeing up her stuck neck. When Gisa was done with Guerma, my friend who does similar things to humans was in a state of pure awe. The sheer compassion and intuitive knowledge of that woman are amazing. But watching Guerma turn into a different horse was a privilege. Guerma's eyes looked clearer, and she was certainly moving better, and stretching her neck and legs like a human who had just gotten off a very long and cramped flight would. Guerma looked around her with a lot more interest and seemed to be just noticing that she was in a new place, and that it didn't look so bad.
For the first time since she arrived, I relaxed and felt like I could do this rescue, and get this mare back into the shape that God meant for her. I had hope. The horse I was just sure had existed within her, was ready to be glimpsed, again.
For now, that lovely horse is wet, from standing out in the rain, and looks bedraggled and in need of some brushing and untangling. But thats ok. She's fed, she's unkinked, and soon, she will know that the people on this property mean her no harm, and only good. She wont believe that when the dentist comes, but afterwards, I hope that maybe she will guess that something in her life has improved, once more. I hope.
I hope I hope I hope I hope I hope.....
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