Mother Nature and Her Temper

I love fall.  I love the crispness that comes with the cooling temperatures.  Such a relief from summer’s oppressive heat and humidity.  This year though, fall is acting like a recalcitrant two year old that doesn’t want to go to bed.  September 21^st was the first day of fall with equal amounts of daylight and night time.  Once those nights get longer, though, Mother Nature is by turns grumpy and glorious.

What I don’t like, especially for my horses, are the wild swings we’ve had so many of this season.  From 80 degree days to 25 degree nights.  This time of fall they aren’t ready for that.  Fall starts for the horses around the end of August. Their coats lose the slick shine of their summer do and edges towards a soft velvet plush that hints at the thick hairiness of their winter coat.  Horses don’t grow their coats in response to temperature; rather their coats thicken in reaction to the amount of daylight. 

So in October, they don’t have their full coats and if it starts raining or snowing when the temps dip below 30 degrees it can be brutal for them. 

Even more so because they won’t use the run in shed to stay dry.  That I will never understand.  They’ve lived on pasture for the past 5 years and haven’t seen the inside of a stall that entire time.  You’d think they would have figured out by now that:  roof=dry and dry=not freezing.  But, nope, they’d rather shiver standing under a pine tree.

I guess that’s what happens when a 1500 lbs body is paired with a brain the size of a grapefruit.

This past weekend though, was just a little over the top.  Thursday it was in the mid to upper 60’s, sunny and a sparkling fall day.  On Friday, Mom Nature got a little grumpy and on Friday night she had a full blown temper tantrum.  In the 30’s, 6 inches of snow and to top it off, no electricity.  And by Sunday, back into the 60’s and snow almost completely melted.

Saturday during Mom Nature's temper tantrum

Sunday, after she smiled again:

I really, really, REALLY hope this is not a harbinger of things to come. It would almost make me want to move back into town.  

Almost.

Head and Heart

There comes a point in your working partners career when it is time to hang up the collar, put away the bell and let the youngin’s take the lead.  Sounds easy.  But it is a soul wrenching decision for me.

Finn came into my life, as a bouncing, rambunctious and annoying 9 week old puppy, after my old boy, Ben, destroyed his suspensory ligament in a back leg.  I didn’t want Finn, didn’t need Finn and certainly didn’t think Finn could take Ben’s place.  Finn didn’t take Ben’s place, because nobody could, he just squeezed himself into another part of my heart.

Matter of fact, I think he took over most of it.  He and I have been through so much together, starting young.  He was less than a year old when very early one morning, too early for the sun to be up, he crash landed on me while I was in bed.  I was about to yell at him to get off of me, when I looked at my bedroom window and saw something my sleep befuddled mind couldn’t make sense of.  The sun shouldn’t have been up and it certainly shouldn’t have been shining thorough that window… No, those were flames from the other side of my duplex that had made their way up the vinyl siding of my neighbor’s side. Good Morning!!

He got me up in time for me to get dressed, call 911 and make it out of the house with all the dogs.  The house was completely destroyed, lost both of my cats and all because of a mentally deranged wanna be rent-a-cop.  He poured a can of gas on my neighbors side of the duplex and lit it on fire.

Finn always worked WITH me, never FOR me and certainly never for himself.  I trust him with my life, if I couldn’t quite make out a trail at night while it was raining and the fog moved in, I could follow his glowing collar and he always got me home.  If I was cold he always curled up on my right side to keep me warm.  If I was nervous, he leaned against me in comfort.  When he is in the truck he’s got an unblinking stare that could put off the most determined of car jackers.  He is bomb proof and nothing put him off his game.

He is a very serious dog.  Not given to the normal rowdiness and silliness that marks the behavior of most Labs.  However, he does have a game he likes to play with people that are afraid of dogs.  When they aren’t looking, he’ll rush up behind them barking like a hound of hell, tail wagging and one ear cocked back at me.  He wants to see how high he can make them jump.  He can’t do it often, because they obviously don’t get the humor like he and I do, but when he does it is quite spectacular.

He did this to one of the porters that was carrying my gear in the jungles of Guyana, when he and I were down there looking for a lost plane.  I finally had to yell some pretty explicit obscenities at him to make him stop after he made the poor man jump for the third time.  It would have been completely in that porter’s rights to just dump my pack and make me carry it.

   

His first find was drowning that the police had been looking for more than three days.  He found him in less than 10 minutes.  His last task was in April, when he was just about to turn 11 years old, looking for a despondent in Goshen, VA.

But, now he slides a little too much coming down an embankment, and he is less sure of himself when working the pile.  It is hard for my heart to agree with what my mind sees when he still goes on two mile bike rides, likes to go on trail rides and can still find cadaver sources quicker than my young ones.

So when the calls come, Darcy and Cora get in the truck with me

Cora

Darcy

and the old man has to stay home, breaking my heart and his.

Labrador RETRIEVER

I’ve tried I don’t how many different times to write another entry for this blog after posting the one about Teagan.  All have gone in the virtual circular file.  It’s been 3 ½ months since she passed away and so much has happened here at Glendair, but I just haven’t had the heart to write about them. 

I still miss her dearly and keep expecting her to come home from the trainers anyday, but my heart breaks just a little more each time when I remember she can’t come home again.

In August, the Deacon man got his chance to become a certified HRD (Human Remains Detection) dog for VDEM (Virginia Department of Emergency Management).  He was amazing.  He was spectacular.   He was confident.  And he was fast.  He found the first source in a two acre task area in less than 3 minutes.

Then promptly brought back to me.  That is an epic FAIL.

One thing we have drilled in our heads, is crime scene preservation.  It does no good to find the remains and then move them around so the police officers can’t tell what happened.  And it really doesn’t help if your dog does that and you then have to answer to the defense attorney.  Yikes!  I’d hate to see that dog handler.

Deacon is almost ready.  Actually, after all the work I’ve put into him for the past 6 weeks I think he is ready.  He hasn’t picked up a source in over a month.  But, if I really think he is over that little problem and I feel over confident that he will NEVER do that again, Murphy will hit me smack in the face and undoubtedly, it will be another epic fail.

There is a reason Deacon is a Labrador RETRIEVER… and if he can he will.