Category: Horses

Nothing to do with dogs, women or men!

Enough of this introspection!

Dear friend, Suzann, sent me the link to this video a few days ago, it’s just fabulous.

Here’s the description of what the video is about:

The KFPS Friesian Horse: beautiful, versatile, athletic, kind, willing, and able to do anything! May the world see that this breed is loved and enjoyed by all.  Too magnificent not to send on, you’ll love the music as well, beautifully played.

These horses were originally bred as “war horses” in the days of knights and armor. As armor got heavier, bigger horses were needed and the Friesian almost became extinct. They are black and are one of the most beautiful horses in stature as well as gait. What gorgeous animals! Just watching them becomes an emotional experience. Can you imagine what it would be like to ride one? Their manes and tails are the longest that I have seen and I noticed that when performing on grass, their hoofs do not kick up a divot, as they land flat footed. Creatures such as these are what makes this world so special. These horses are native to the Netherlands. Amazing Music is by E.S. Posthumus titled “Manju“.

The watering hole.

Seems to follow-on from yesterday so well.

This game of blogging would have no meaning at all if it were not for the networking and sharing of so many ideas, thoughts and feelings unlimited by geographical distances. The ‘Likes’ and responses to my Hope Has A Place story yesterday meant so much.

I was trawling through my folder looking for something that felt good to publish after yesterday and came across the following that was sent in by dear friend, Dan Gomez, about a month ago.

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An old cowboy was riding his trusty horse followed by his faithful dog along an unfamiliar road. The man was enjoying the new scenery, when he suddenly remembered dying, and realized that the dog beside him had been dead for years, as had his horse. Confused, he wondered what was happening, and where the trail was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall that looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall arch topped by a golden letter “H” that glowed in the sunlight.

Standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like gold.

He rode toward the gate and as he got closer he saw a man at a desk to one side. Parched and tired out by his journey, he called out, “Excuse me, where are we?

This is Heaven, sir,” the man answered.

Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the old cowboy asked.

Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.

As the gate began to open, the cowboy asked, “Can I bring my partners, too?

I’m sorry; sir, but we don’t accept pets.

The cowboy thought for a moment, then turned back to the road and continued riding, his dog trotting by his side.

After another long ride, at the top of another hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a ranch gate that looked as if it had never been closed. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

Excuse me,‘ he called to the man. “Do you have any water?

Sure, there’s a pump right over there. Help yourself.

How about my friends here?” the cowboy gestured to his dog and his horse.

Of course! They look thirsty, too,” said the man.

The three of them went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with buckets beside it. The cowboy filled a cup and the buckets with wonderfully cool water and took a long drink, as did his horse and dog.

pump

When they were full, he walked back to the man who was still standing by the tree. “What do you call this place?” he asked.

This is Heaven,” the man answered.

That’s confusing, the man down the road said that was Heaven, too.

Oh, you mean the place with the glitzy, gold street and fake pearly gates? That’s hell.

The cowboy retorted, “Doesn’t it make you angry when they use your name like that?

Not at all. Actually, we’re happy they screen out the folks who would leave their friends behind.

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Dan’s email went on to include this:

Sometimes, we wonder why friends forward things to us without writing a word. Maybe this explains it? When you’re busy, but still want to keep in touch, you can forward emails. When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep in contact, you can forward jokes. When you have something to say, but don’t know exactly how to say it, you can forward stuff.

A ‘forward’ lets you know that you’re still remembered, still important, still cared about.

So the next time you get a ‘forward’, don’t think of it as just another joke. Realize that you’ve been thought of today and that your friend on the other end just wanted to send you a smile.

PS: You’re welcome at my watering hole anytime.

Let me underline Dan’s PS by saying that all of life’s humans and creatures are welcome here!

Water jug

 

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A few more views of home.

Two weeks ago, I presented some photographs of a pair of Canada Geese who had decided our home was their home. I promised to update you.

So here are two photographs taken last Tuesday.

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Plus some of our horses grazing on a misty morning last week.

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Finally, two more of my son’s photographs from his stay with us nearly a month ago.

Pharaoh revealing a face of aged wisdom.
Pharaoh revealing a face of aged wisdom.

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In contrast, your Cleo displaying a nose for a comfortable seating place!
In contrast, young Cleo displaying a nose for a comfortable seating place!

You all have a good week.

Caring changes lives

Possibly the most important lesson to be learnt from dogs.

As is the way, a number of separate happenings seemed to be ‘singing from the same song sheet’ in bringing about today’s post.

Earlier yesterday morning Jean and I had a meeting with the executive director of an important charity that is helping the many homeless and disadvantaged young persons in this part of Oregon. For example, Jean and I were told that there were 300-500 homeless teenagers in Josephine County alone (Josephine County is where our home is.)

One of the ideas that was floated in the conversation was how kids are so loving to animals and whether our dogs and horses might help.

Then later, when back home, I recalled that over two years ago I published a post called Sticks and stones.

It wasn’t a long post and is republished now.

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Sticks and stones

I make no apologies for today’s post being more emotional and sentimental. The phrase ‘sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me‘ is well known throughout the English-speaking world and surprisingly goes back some way.  A quick web search found that in the The Christian Recorder of March 1862, there was this comment:

Remember the old adage, ‘Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me’. True courage consists in doing what is right, despite the jeers and sneers of our companions.

So if in 1862 the saying was referred to as an ‘old adage’ then it clearly pre-dated 1862 by some degree. A few days ago, Dusty M., here in Payson, AZ, sent me a short YouTube video called The Power of Words.  I’m as vulnerable as the next guy to needing being reminded about what’s important in this funny old world.

Then I started mulling over the tendency for all of us to be sucked into a well of doom and gloom.  Take my posts on Learning from Dogs over the last couple of days, as an example. There is no question that the world in which we all live is going through some extremely challenging times but anger and negativity is not going to be the answer.  As that old reference spelt out so clearly, “True courage consists in doing what is right, despite the jeers and sneers of our companions.” So first watch the video,

then let me close by reminding us all that courage is yet something else we can learn from dogs.

Togo the husky

In 1925, a ravaging case of diphtheria broke out in the isolated Alaskan village of Nome. No plane or ship could get the serum there, so the decision was made for multiple sled dog teams to relay the medicine across the treacherous frozen land. The dog that often gets credit for eventually saving the town is Balto, but he just happened to run the last, 55-mile leg in the race. The sled dog who did the lion’s share of the work was Togo. His journey, fraught with white-out storms, was the longest by 200 miles and included a traverse across perilous Norton Sound — where he saved his team and driver in a courageous swim through ice floes.

More about Togo another day.

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 One of the comments left to that post back in November, 2012 was from Virginia Hamilton. Her website, Canine Commandos, is about just that: dogs helping youngsters. This is what Virginia wrote:

Our sermon today was about sticks and stones which is perfect timing because my sixth graders are throwing words at each other and it is hurting. So I looked up the phrase and found you. We were shown the video in a faculty meeting and since you tie into dogs I was hoping to find “the answer.” When you look at the website you’ll see out community project where I have twenty schools training in three shelters. One would think that because these kids are so loving to the animals that they could pass that kindness to each other. Any words of wisdom? Also check this out. Thank you, Virginia.

Now I would be the first to admit that there’s a difference between a homeless young person and a gifted young person. Yet the difference may not be so great. In this one sense: that caring for an animal changes lives and what young people, from all backgrounds and circumstances, need to learn is the power of unconditional love.

Not just caring for dogs, horses and cats, by the way.

Wild deer trusting Jean.
Wild deer trusting Jean.

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Huge thanks to Suzann for sending these on.

You all have a great day!

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Aren’t they wonderful!

More from Su next Sunday.

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More of those glorious pictures from Sue via John Hurlburt.

If you missed the first set, then they may be found here.

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Yet more next Sunday.  You good people out there have a happy and stress-free week.

Picture parade fifty-six

Some people just keep going.

In last week’s picture parade, I featured my mother swimming up at Secesh Reservoir near Wolf Creek.  There were many lovely comments and it made my mother’s day to read all your kind words.  I also mentioned that my mother was determined to take a swim in our nearby Rogue River and that it would be featured in today’s picture parade.

So here are those pictures.

The Rogue River at Matson Country Park.
The Rogue River at Matson County Park.

Matson Park is not far from Grants Pass here in Oregon and has the great advantage of offering a beach, albeit a stony beach, that makes entry into the water easier.

Gingerly wading in.
Gingerly wading in.

Jean had to lend my mother her shoes as the river bed was pretty stony.

Right out in mid-river!
Right out in mid-river!

Luckily the lack of recent rains meant that the river was flowing much more gently than would be usual.

Just keeping abreast of the current.
Just keeping abreast of the current.

Yet even with the low volume of water flowing by, the current was a good three to four miles-per-hour and Mum was only able to stay local to us by vigorously swimming upstream.

Another swimming 'tick in the box'.
Another swimming ‘tick in the box’.

Very soon it made sense to return to the beach. What a remarkable lady she is!

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Last morning together.

Soon the day came round for Mum to return to London.  This picture was taken just before we left for Medford Airport.

Little piece of nostalgia.
Little piece of nostalgia.

Finally, to close today’s post, here’s a photograph of Mum’s Great Uncle.  Believed to have been taken around 1930, Uncle Foreman was the baker in the small village of West Malling in Kent, South-East England.

Still more quarts!

Still responding to immediate needs.

In yesterday’s post, I wrote:

Then yesterday, around 2pm, we dropped everything to race up to a farmer at Wolf Creek, just a dozen miles North of us, to inspect some hay that was for sale. It was great quality and at $5 a bale the deal of the century. So by the time we had loaded up some bales onto the trailer and returned, unloaded them into the hay loft, organised a bigger trailer from neighbours Dordie and Bill, and I had recuperated under a shower, there was no time at all for today’s post.

Well that larger flatbed trailer was borrowed on Monday evening and early yesterday morning we set off again to Wolf Creek to purchase more bales of hay.

This time we had room for 60 bales, the equivalent of 4,200 lbs in weight.  Each bale had to be lifted onto the trailer and stacked carefully.

But at last it was all done, great thanks to Robert who was up at Wolf Creek, and then it was time to head for home.

Jean thanking Robert for his great help in loading 60 bales!
Jean thanking Robert for his great help in loading our 60 bales!

Impossible not to ignore the beautiful countryside that is so typical of this part of Southern Oregon. (Wolf Creek is less than 15 miles from home.)

The things we do for our horses!
The things we do for our horses!

Anyway, once back home somehow Jean and I managed to unload and stack all 60 bales, by which time my creative juices were no longer to be found.

So apologies and see you tomorrow.