Drive Me Crazy

Those of us who live in rural areas do a lot more driving than city dwellers. Putting all environmental concerns aside I will admit that I love to drive. There are few things I find more enjoyable than crusing down an open road with one hand on the wheel and one on the gear shift, listening to music or the radio or my passenger(s) or just the sound of the world whooshing by. My father also loved to drive, and my mother does as well...maybe I come by it genetically. How about you?

This is a picture snapped a couple of years ago as David and I drove into Los Angeles via the Grapevine. Much as we both love driving, we decided it is best done in places other than LA.

Carbon Hoofprint

British Columbians voted (or at least they should have!) in a provincial election today. Our riding is deeply conservative and my left-leaning voice holds no sway, but I threw my vote at the environmental party in hopes of helping them to secure more funding in future. I did the same in our last federal election. Maybe one day the province and the country will adopt electoral reforms that allow my vote to count. The referendum on switching BC from its antiquated first-past-the-post system to a single-transferable-vote system is not going to pass, so I'm not holding my breath.

Earlier today I met Dan at Farmer Dave's to load our second batch of hay. We talked about the election as we worked, focusing on its environmental repercussions. Then we started talking about the environmental impact of owning recreational horses, which is a concern that I have never been able to reconcile. Over the course of one year my two giant pets eat about 8 metric tons of local hay, another ton of alfalfa cubes, 260 kg of oats, 260 kg of beet pulp, 100 kg flax meal, 80 kg of sunflower seeds, and some other incidentals. I would love to know how much fossil fuel goes into growing, harvesting, preparing and transporting all that feed for them. When you multiply that mystery number against all the people with a couple of backyard horses the carbon hoofprint must be huge.

At work I am an avid environmentalist and I have committed my career to working on environmental problems, but the dichotomy between my professional beliefs and my personal lifestyle is uncomfortable. We have made a lot of environmentally conscious decisions at Farcical Farm (recognizing that we have a much larger carbon footprint as rural dwellers than we had as urban dwellers) , but horse ownership was not amongst them. Regardless of how carefully we run the operation, my own carbon footprint is MUCH bigger with Tonka and Raven in tow than it would be without them. It's a hard pill to swallow, so it is still lodged in my throat.

Tempus Fugit

Loosely translated from the Latin as "time flies". It is a very appropriate name for the height dog on our flyball team, and a succinct description of my weekend. Today Willow and I played in our first tournament since November and our team placed first in the S2 U-Fli division.

I have been captaining this team for three years now, and I suck at the job in some important ways. Beyond forgetting to set my alarm this morning (unprofessional at worst and embarrassing at best) I have never, ever cared about winning. What makes me happy is seeing our dogs running cleanly and our humans having fun -- end of story. I understand that winning is important to the rest of the team so I force myself to take an interest, but I can't bring myself to believe that it matters if we ran our best and had a good time.

Several horse bloggers have been posting answers to an enormous meme over the past week. In considering my own responses I have been forced to acknowledge how much I have changed since I was riding competitively in my teenage years. Winning was everything back then -- in school, in sports, in social life. I was never an unkind person or driven to cut-throat tactics, but beating others was my quiet motivation right through university. I can't say whether my attitude changed as a function of age, experience or relationships (probably all three), but sometime over the past decade my benchmark became entirely internal. While I love reading eventing and dressage blogs, the thought of doing anything competitive with my horses is completely abhorrent to me now. As with my flyball team, I just want them to be happy, healthy and doing their level best. Given the skinny, neurotic mare who showed up at Farcical Farm one year ago, I'm as happy as a clam.

Routine Checkup

Our neighbours claim that the weather was beautiful while David and I were away, and we arrived home in time to enjoy at least one day of sun before the predicted rain begins. We also arrived home with my mother in tow for her first visit to Farcical Farm (which inspired me to dig out some Reno Hell pictures).
It was good to get back to my chores this morning, but surprising to find that my routine was already not-so-routine. I forgot to bring the beet pulp bucket with me when I fed the horses, so I had to go back to the garage to get it. I forgot to collect the manure fork after dumping the wheelbarrow, so I had to go back to the paddock to get it. I forgot Titan's dinner in the laundry room tonight, so I had to go back to the house to get it. A myriad of time-consuming little mistakes that I don't normally make. From my stable hand days I know that most horse caretakers know the fastest, most efficient way to get their chores finished, and I usually follow a careful routine (sometimes more slowly than others). Tomorrow I will be back on my game.

Time on Ice

David and I aren't planning to have children, but we both enjoy the company of the kids in our respective families. My sister's eldest son had just turned one when we first met, and his nieces and nephews were all under the age of ten. David's sister in Ottawa has four kids, now ranging between 12 and 19, and we have been going to their hockey games whenever possible for years. They used to swarm down the ice after the puck, which I referred to as "bowling for 6-year-olds" because one fallen child would inevitably splay along like a starfish, knocking down half of the other players. Tonight we watched 16-year-old boys (called "midgets" despite their size and height) play three full periods of real, hard hockey.

There is nothing that marks the passage of time in my life like watching these children grow into adolescents and onto adulthood. Deadlines come and go, goals are achieved or abandoned, dogs get stiffer through the hips and grayer around the muzzles -- none of these provide the sudden shocks that come with seeing kids only once or twice a year. I never worry much about time and mortality, but sometimes it makes my breath catch in my throat.

After the game the family loaned us some skates so that we can enjoy the Rideau Canal tomorrow morning. I am also looking forward to enjoying a Beaver Tail.

Home Again, Home Again

David and I are now in Ontario (aka Onterrible) visiting with family. Next week is reading week, and given that today was my mother's 76th birthday (she swears it's her 66th) we ducked out early. The most excellent Melissa is taking care of Farcical Farm while we're gone, so I will once again be forced to plumb the depths of my imagination for FFF material. Don't get your hopes up, folks -- it's murky in there.

This picture was taken in the summer of 2003, about six months after my dad died. I am at my thinnest, mostly due to grief. My mother is at her palest for much the same reason. Still, we wanted to document the flowers we had planted and tended with the same care he took every previous summer. It gets a little easier every year.

IICFBD

That stands for International Ice Cream For Breakfast Day, which falls on the first Saturday in February. My boss and his wife host an IICFBC party every year, and I have been attending (usually with David) since 2002. The ambiance is getting more sedate as their kids get older (now 12 and 15), but the novelty hasn't worn off. Last year I sampled the craziest flavours I could find, but this year I stuck to small scoops of chocolate, vanilla and caramel.

After that we saw Coraline with some good friends, followed by lunch, followed by coffee. We all love Neil Gaiman and the movie was pretty great. The company was even better.

When David and I moved out of Vancouver we promised ourselves and our friends in the city that we would make a concerted effort to maintain a healthy social life. We are both deeply introverted people and Farcical Farm could too easily become our hermitage. So far we have honoured that commitment, juggling our schedules and the needs of our animals to make time with friends whenever possible and we never regret it.

Time Keeps on Slipping

There is nothing that stresses me out more than being late, to the point of it being a psychological condition rather than a social habit. Even though I have improved in recent years I am convinced that I will eventually die of a heart attack induced by running late for something. When we travel David obsesses about all the little things like (1) where we're going to sleep, (2) when we're going to eat, and (3) what we're going to do. I only obsess about getting to the airport on time.

I never wear a watch because I am uncomfortable in jewelery and I spend most of my days in front of a computer with my cell phone nearby. Even in the absence of clocks I am uncannily good at estimating the time. But things are different when I am puttering around Farcical Farm -- whole hours slide by in what feels like 15 minutes. If I definitely need to be somewhere I keep my phone in my pocket, but it tends to get dirty and abused (even dirtier and more abused than it gets in everyday life). A big clock somewhere outdoors seems like the practical solution, but the thought of installing one makes me kind of sad.

However, it makes me very happy to let FFF readers know that Black Jack's Carol made it home from the hospital today. Welcome back Carol!

Photic Sneeze Reflex

Does sunlight make you sneeze? If so you are in the ~20% of the population carrying this dominant genetic trait. The biomechanics aren't totally clear, but scientists hypothesize that overstimulation of the optic nerve somehow triggers the trigeminal nerve, which is responsible for the sneeze reflex.

I inherited my photic sneeze reflex from my father. He started his career as a navigator in the Royal Canadian Air Force. Nowadays it would preclude any career as a fighter pilot, but I'm not sure whether he and his flying buddies were tested back then.

When I first met David he didn't believe my claims about the sun making me sneeze, and he finally looked it up on the internet. That's how I learned that it's a known and documented phenomenon. Normally I hardly notice it, but over the past few days I have been suffering from a sinus infection and looking into the sunlight (we've actually had some) is painful rather than pleasurable. In addition all the bones in face are tender and my teeth ache like crazy -- no riding for me. I'm lucky to enjoy excellent health overall, but today I'm off to the doctor.

Five on Five

Sweet Kacy was kind enough to pass three awards my way the other day. Without delving into the details I do want to share five addictions and five online inspirations with FFF readers.

Addiction #1: When I was little I had a friend who lived in a house that was always full of animals (and children and plants and LIFE in general). They had three cats and two dogs and bunnies and hamsters and a beautiful aquarium. When they moved to a hobby farm and expanded their menagerie I was simultaneously jealous and heartbroken. That home environment was totally discordant with my own, but it suited me so much better. And now here I am with multiple dogs, cats, goats and horses of my own. LIFE!

Inspiration #1: All Horse Stuff. Kacy gets out and works her crazy thoroughbred mare almost every day. They ride the trails, they do dressage in the arena, they take jumping lessons, they go to the beach, they try new things and they are always improving. Washashe is similar to Raven in many ways, and Kacy's "just get out there and do it" attitude really rubs off on her readers.

Addiction #2: I've never smoked, I hardly drink at all (David calls me "Sarah Half Glass" because that's how much wine it takes to get me tipsy), and most recreational drug use is long behind me. My only physical addiction is to good caffeine -- swill need not apply. I can skip a day if I must, but why would I want to?

Inspiration #2: Bikes, Birds and Beasts. Carol and I are kindred spirits when it comes to coffee, and Carol is an inspiration to me because she lives like I want to be living in another ~30 years. Joyful, thoughtful, curious, engaged, caring, honest, independent, active...all these adjectives that come to mind.

Addition #3: David and I started doing crossword puzzles together last year and I am hooked. Both my parents were crossword fiends and I disdained them (crosswords, not my parents) for years as a result -- it seemed like an intensely uncool way to pass the time. But now that I've stopped caring about being cool it turns out that crosswords are awesome!

Inspiration #3: Rex Parker Does the NYT. Almost every day Rex Parker does the New York Times crossword puzzle and then blogs about it. David and I discovered this several months back when we were looking for answers to a very tricky (medium-challenging according to Rex) puzzle. I had never thought about the art of making crossword puzzles before reading this blog, but now I find myself formulating well-reasoned opinions about them.

Addiction #4: My primary function in my professional life is problem solving. The other things (writing papers, applying for grants, attending conferences) tend to drain me, but when I am on the edge of getting an answer that I have working towards I literally start to vibrate. Sometimes I get so excited that I can barely type, and coworkers have noticed that I get very flushed. You know you're a total nerd when computer output gives you an adrenaline rush.

Inspiration #4: Funder's Good Idea. From her blog I gather that Funder is another problem solver and she makes me want to try new things. Driving a horse trailer? She can do that. Trimming her own horses' feet? She can do that too. Shooting a pop can from 100 yards with a hand gun? You betcha. Being a lawyer? Sure thing!

Addiction #5: Although I am codependent with the internet in general, I rely heavily on Facebook for updates about my friends and their doings. Most of my high school peeps still live in Ontario, but Facebook allows me to feel like I haven't lost touch with them. Long time FFF readers might remember that I hate to talk on the phone, so I am horrible about maintaining long-distance relationships that way.

Inspiration #5: Those Who Wander. I have only met Erica and Jamie once or twice, but they are close friends of some close friends. Sometime last year Jamie quit his high-paying job, they sold their Vancouver home, bought a fixer-upper motor home and hit the road with Kea (8), Tiegan (5) and Ryland (2). They don't know how long they will be on the road or exactly where they will end up, but right now they seem to be having fun in California.

Three for One

Yesterday was another beauty in Deroche. I gave Tonka a cursory grooming, saddled him up and rode him at a walk in the pasture with Raven at liberty so that all three of us could get our workout for the day. Raven was stressed about the whole thing, but between bouts of bucking and farting and kicking and rearing she did manage to walk calmly alongside us for several 200+ foot stretches. This is my very first step towards ponying Raven off of Tonka, and he was absolutely fantastic. Raven's biggest problem was that she couldn't push him around with me on his back, and every single time she tried to dominate his movement he listened calmly to me, always trusting my judgment.

Beyond racing I doubt that Tonka has ever been more than a recreational trail horse, so we worked on straightness at the walk and bending a little through the corners. He kept his mind on his job and mostly ignored Raven's antics. My workout came from keeping my leg on Tonka, who rides like some of the warmbloods I used to know -- capable of huge movement, but not without huge input. Under normal circumstances I would have a dressage whip at the ready, but I didn't want to introduce that into the general chaos. No pictures from yesterday, but I was wearing exactly the same outfit as shown in the one above (taken last March, obviously before I had adjusted my right stirrup) if that gives you the idea. We'll do it again tomorrow to see whether Miss Thing can settle down faster than yesterday.

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?

At Long Last

When I started this blog I did all the things necessary to be indexed by Google. I submitted the URL for crawling, I specified the feed as the sitemap in my webmaster account, and I waited. And waited some more. A couple of months later I submitted the URL again and waited again. And submitted again. The last time I resubmitted the URL was on Monday morning, so imagine my surprise this afternoon when people started popping onto the blog as the result of their Google searches. Sure enough, FFF finally got indexed! The technical trappings of the intertubes aren't as mysterious to me as they are...say...to my mother, but I can't think of any good reason why this took most of a year to happen. Maybe all the talk of Tonka's swollen member got me flagged?

It Seems Like Yesterday

Today is the 1-year anniversary of the first time I met Tonka (then Kelly). I clearly remember listening to this horrific story on the radio as I drove out to the barn. David had given me $300 for riding lessons on my birthday, but after falling in love with a picture of Tonka online I decided that it would be better spent on a 1-month trial lease*.

When I arrived Tonka was in a panic because Star (his companion of the previous seven years) was screaming for him from the pasture. He had ditched his handler after being tacked up, and he made a break through the barn where he got trapped by the sliding door at the far end. It is only time I have seen him truly undone by a situation. When they caught him I asked the girls in the barn to untack him -- I had no intention of taking a first ride on a horse in that state of distress. Instead I took him out in-hand and quickly learned that he had impeccable ground manners, even through fear. He turned gingerly on the forehand and the quarters in both directions. He reversed for 20 steps with agility and attention. No one knew that he had been a race horse, but I now assume this level of cooperation came from his early training. I fell for him completely on that first day and the founder diagnoses three weeks later was just a bump along the road of inevitability.

In the meantime my friend Sheena was having her dog Briggs laid to rest after a long, hard battle. January 12th 2008 was a sad day in many ways, but it was also the start of my life's longest dream coming true.

*In case it's not clear to FFF readers, David is my very best friend, my partner and my lover -- not always the easiest role to play in the life of a woman who is independent to a fault. The indirect conversion of a $300 cheque into a 1200 lb horse was something that he accepted with more humour and grace than I deserved. I do promise that this year's cheque will be spent on nothing more than vet bills.

All Will be Revealed

I was looking forward to yesterday with anticipation and trepidation. Not because it was my 33rd birthday (thanks to David and my mother for cash infusions against my vet bills), but because the snow finally melted. For the first time in three weeks I mucked the paddock with a manure fork and a wheelbarrow instead of a spade and a make-shift sled. And for the first time in three weeks I could see all the manure that had been hiding.

It took three hours and eight or nine (I lost count) runs to the manure pile, but the paddock is almost back to normal. Now all I have to do is move the stuff that I have been piling in the pasture up into the manure bins. Have I mentioned how badly I want Henry to grow a front-end loader?

A Family Affair

My sister, my brother-in-law and my two nephews have been visiting Farcical Farm for the past week -- the first time we have hosted my side of the family tree. Although I get to Toronto a few times each year it was nice to have the tables turned by an encounter on my own turf. We frolicked in the snow, ate a lot, didn't drink too too much, played Wii, watched silly TV shows and had a great time. The Ruddy Beast is plenty big for six people, our little dishwasher didn't mind doing triple duty, and Mister Giotto was worshiped by all. The Callaghan clan is thinking of buying property in Ontario this summer (they have two avid dirt-bikers on their hands) so I hope their time at Farcical Farm was both fun and encouraging.

They spoiled us in several ways while they were here, but primarily by helping with the farm chores each morning. Everyone would suit up and head out to feed, water, muck and exercise the dogs. Concern for the warfarin-tainted curs and the swollen-sheathed nag was shared by all, with the five-year-old Rory keeping astute mental record of their progress. The only thing I dislike about living in BC is being so far from my family -- the house seems quiet and surprisingly lonely without them.

Six Degrees of Penguination

Funder wants me to post six "random" things about myself that FFF readers don't already know. She correctly points out that this would require creating a list of ALL the things FFF readers don't know about me and then choosing six at random. Instead I offer these factoids:

1. I dislike most dried fruit, but I cannot eat raisins. Or anything that has been in contact with raisins. Or anything that tastes similar to things that may once have been in contact with raisins. It has ever been thus.



2. I am the tomboy daughter of a girly girl mother. When I was in grade school she forced me to wear a dress at least two times a week, and I slept in a canopy bed until I left for university. I still sleep in a canopy bed when I go home to visit.



3. I had my nose pierced for a couple of years. On my final scuba dive before leaving for an internship in Guyana the stud got blown out when I was clearing my mask. For the past 9 years I have been tempted to get it redone every time I walk past a (reputable-looking) piercing joint.



4. I used to drink at least a liter of milk daily, and I still would if my metabolism could keep up. A cold glass of milk is like heaven for me, and I could happily survive on nothing but cereal (which I often do when David is out of town). I have never had a cavity.



5. I have traveled to many places, and I hope to visit many many more. My father was a commercial pilot and my mother was a stewardess. They met on an airplane, they both loved to travel, and we all share the desire to see as much of the world as possible in the short time allotted.



6. I hate Big Bird. When I was a little kid just seeing him on TV made me ball up inside, and he still pisses me off. Some friends recently told me that Big Bird is meant to represent the slow kid in the class, so now I am forced to hate him under the shadow of elitist guilt.

I'm not going to tag anyone, but I would be delighted to learn six interesting tidbits about any of the authors on my simply syndicated list (look right).

Needs Must

A phrase often used by my grandmother. Over the past week it applied to my use of a large Rubbermaid container, a nylon tie-down and brute force to move manure from the paddock down to the compost pile. The snow is simply too deep to push a wheelbarrow, and I am simply too conscientious to allow the manure to pile up. This is the result:

Considering how many animals we work hard to feed and house you would think that one or two of them would be helpful for this kind of thing, but there were no volunteers.

Pester and Ye Shall Receive

I should preface this post by saying (1) it has nothing to do with the blog in general and (2) I completely suck at Dance Dance Revolution (DDR). Furthermore, I did not practice at all today because I was too sore after yesterday. It is interesting and kind of pathetic that they use this as a way to motivate kids to exercise.

First, here is my Mii. I got far enough that I unlocked the option to use my Mii instead of one of the pre-programmed characters, but I did not get to choose an outfit for her. It was either jeans and a hoodie (not unusual for me, but that outfit was meant for boys and it gave my Mii an...er...package) or this getup. Please know that I have never worn pink a day in my life.

And here's the much-less-flattering real thing in my new penguin pajama pants. I had to ditch the matching shirt because I was getting too hot. For some reason (other than actual pregnancy) I appear pregnant, but I think it is a combination of the slightly blurred action and the turkey dinner. Hazel, as usual, appears deeply disinterested.

Willy Willy Itchy

A few days ago I saw Tonka kicking at his belly through the bedroom window and my heart sank. Cold weather colic is a worrisome reality under these conditions, as dear EvenSong knows all too well. His blanket straps seemed a bit snug when I investigated, so I loosened them and didn't observe any further discomfort until yesterday when I found him kicking more fitfully and swishing his tail as if he had a fly on his belly.

His sheath appeared slightly swollen and when I gave it a scratch he was instantly in heaven, lifting his rear legs like a dog to give me better access. Other than the swelling and itchiness there was nothing unusual -- he wasn't particularly dirty and there was no bean (rude of me to check without lube, but he didn't mind in the least). I scratched for a good 10 minutes and wondered how to proceed.

This morning he was kicking with even more agitation so I decided to call Kerstin. She figures it is a bug bite some minor infection, and she was able to drop off some topical "Special Formula" this morning, which is indicated for treatment of mastitis in lactating cows. Tonka doesn't mind -- he is feeling much better already. David and I made the best of Tonka's misery while we were waiting for Kerstin by getting some funny pictures.

While I was applying the "Special Formula" Raven wandered up to see what was happening and Tonka squealed with fury before trying to bite her. I have NEVER seen him show any aggression towards her (despite her frequent and vicious attacks on him), so I take that as some indication of how uncomfortable he was. Afterwards I went about my chores and Tonka followed me around begging for more willy scratching. He was so persistent that I finally had to chase him off with the manure fork.

And one of the rebuffed Raven in her new blanket. It is up around -1C here today, so she might be back into her shell soon. The propane truck did make it up The Hill, so we will be warm for Christmas.