Journal Entry -- January 15, 2007
Art and I checked on Sam and Sadie just as the sun was setting this evening. It had been snowing lightly most of the day, but the skies had since cleared . . . and the coldest night of the year thus far was already wrapping its fiery fingers about us. We have recently opened a new “back paddock” for them that has considerable grass, which we feel should carry them until spring. We are of the mind to pasture them year round and wanted to see how they were faring. Given that it was 9 degrees with a slight breeze and 95% humidity, and the fact that the ground was coated in a thick layer of ice and sleet, we had concern that they may be having a hard time grazing. With the weather being as nasty as it has been the last few days, we left the gates open between the back paddock and the corral so they could come in under the shed on its leeward side to get out of the wind. It’s likely they didn’t, as large draft mules are very efficient hay burners with thick, densely coated hides and a good layer of protective fat. The last few nights have probably been more a moonlit stroll to them than the dreaded deep freeze we imagine. So long as they have plenty of good feed and water they do quite well. It’s amazing how the Lord has made His creatures fit for the earth.
Our plan was to walk out to them and get them by their halters and lead them to their manger so we could grain them just a little, and then to go back out into the paddock to see what, if any, they had grazed. If it appeared that they had little to eat, we would take them back to their manger and give them their ration of hay. It was bitter cold and slippery to beat the band and with all of the heavy clothing I was wearing I most likely looked to the mules like a trained circus bear stumbling on his hind feet across a frozen pond.
As soon as we passed the last gate and entered the paddock they were already hustling over to us. Their intense brown eyes were focused on our hands and coat pockets, and rightly so, as we each reached in and got a handful of corn and oats, which they quickly manipulated into their warm mouths with their skilled lips, wherein they commenced crunching the glorious way equines do. I had removed my glove to feed Sadie, which was a big mistake, as it wasn’t five seconds before my right hand was burning in pain like someone had lit it on fire. The glove went back on immediately, but even so it took several minutes before the pain abated.
Since Sam is the dominant mule, Art led him first and I followed a ways behind with Sadie. We had made good progress and just entered the front paddock when Sadie suddenly took off to catch up with Sam and away I went ice-skating. As I was skating by the hay wagon I let go of the halter and grabbed one of its posts and swung around and came to a safe stop, something I learned long ago as a kid when I skated at an indoor rink during the long, hot summers of southern Arizona, of all places. Hey, training is training! Art heard the ruckus behind him and immediately released Sam, which was quite wise on his part, since it was only a matter of seconds before the two of them went galloping away side by side.
We approached them again and they immediately came over for another handout. We grabbed their halters and led them to their manger without any further problems. Heading back was no problem either, as both mules readily submitted to being led to the back paddock, even though they love to take off and scamper around like a bunch of rambunctious boys pepped up on candy bars. After going a short ways into the paddock we released them and they just stood there waiting to see what we were going to do next. We headed over to a section of the paddock that has tall thick grass and they followed close behind as though they were expecting an inspection. We were amazed. A section of this area looked like a tornado had just gone through. To our joy and relief they have been grazing to the content of their great hairy bellies. We turned north and headed over to a small pond nearby and discovered that they also love cattails. The outdoor buffet seems to serve them just fine.
We have been working on their paddocks for the last several weeks and hope we are done till spring, Lord willing. The time has now come for some serious training and hard work, as Sam and Sadie have been getting antsy and wound up just like a group of football players that prance and jump around the field before the game. What these long-eared bulldozers need now is work, hard work and lots of it – daily – to get them settled down and back in the saddle, so to speak. Tomorrow, as soon as we can get the last of the ice coating off their backs and thoroughly curry comb them, we will harness them and lead them about the paddock. It’s far too icy to have them pull anything, at least safely, especially with us greenhorns. That will soon come, as there is an enormous dead tree near the paddocks that needs felling that will supply a perfect training log for our logging arch, which looks to us more like a stripped down racing chariot, especially with its hot orange paint job. Having a multi-ton log chained under it will help slow it down . . . we hope.
One thing is for certain; Sam and Sadie know that they are meant to work with us, just like a sheepdog knows it’s to herd for its master. It is such a blessing to see the hand of God upon creation and to know that we are, as God’s husbandmen, to steward it. This is my Father’s world, not the virtual one of fallen man. Though it may be bitter cold outside with my body aching and exhausted from work, I’d rather be doing the will of God under these conditions than to be in relative comfort and ease outside of His will. I will readily admit it, however, that my flesh was hoping to stay inside tonight and put off checking them until tomorrow when it would be warmer, but our God ordained stewardship dictates that Sam and Sadie be looked into tonight, bitter cold and all. That’s a part of agrarianism I am coming to accept and respect, to be there for our beasts of burden when they need us, just like the Lord is always there for us, and not when it is convenient or suitably comfortable. --- The Missouri Rev
Our plan was to walk out to them and get them by their halters and lead them to their manger so we could grain them just a little, and then to go back out into the paddock to see what, if any, they had grazed. If it appeared that they had little to eat, we would take them back to their manger and give them their ration of hay. It was bitter cold and slippery to beat the band and with all of the heavy clothing I was wearing I most likely looked to the mules like a trained circus bear stumbling on his hind feet across a frozen pond.
As soon as we passed the last gate and entered the paddock they were already hustling over to us. Their intense brown eyes were focused on our hands and coat pockets, and rightly so, as we each reached in and got a handful of corn and oats, which they quickly manipulated into their warm mouths with their skilled lips, wherein they commenced crunching the glorious way equines do. I had removed my glove to feed Sadie, which was a big mistake, as it wasn’t five seconds before my right hand was burning in pain like someone had lit it on fire. The glove went back on immediately, but even so it took several minutes before the pain abated.
Since Sam is the dominant mule, Art led him first and I followed a ways behind with Sadie. We had made good progress and just entered the front paddock when Sadie suddenly took off to catch up with Sam and away I went ice-skating. As I was skating by the hay wagon I let go of the halter and grabbed one of its posts and swung around and came to a safe stop, something I learned long ago as a kid when I skated at an indoor rink during the long, hot summers of southern Arizona, of all places. Hey, training is training! Art heard the ruckus behind him and immediately released Sam, which was quite wise on his part, since it was only a matter of seconds before the two of them went galloping away side by side.
We approached them again and they immediately came over for another handout. We grabbed their halters and led them to their manger without any further problems. Heading back was no problem either, as both mules readily submitted to being led to the back paddock, even though they love to take off and scamper around like a bunch of rambunctious boys pepped up on candy bars. After going a short ways into the paddock we released them and they just stood there waiting to see what we were going to do next. We headed over to a section of the paddock that has tall thick grass and they followed close behind as though they were expecting an inspection. We were amazed. A section of this area looked like a tornado had just gone through. To our joy and relief they have been grazing to the content of their great hairy bellies. We turned north and headed over to a small pond nearby and discovered that they also love cattails. The outdoor buffet seems to serve them just fine.
We have been working on their paddocks for the last several weeks and hope we are done till spring, Lord willing. The time has now come for some serious training and hard work, as Sam and Sadie have been getting antsy and wound up just like a group of football players that prance and jump around the field before the game. What these long-eared bulldozers need now is work, hard work and lots of it – daily – to get them settled down and back in the saddle, so to speak. Tomorrow, as soon as we can get the last of the ice coating off their backs and thoroughly curry comb them, we will harness them and lead them about the paddock. It’s far too icy to have them pull anything, at least safely, especially with us greenhorns. That will soon come, as there is an enormous dead tree near the paddocks that needs felling that will supply a perfect training log for our logging arch, which looks to us more like a stripped down racing chariot, especially with its hot orange paint job. Having a multi-ton log chained under it will help slow it down . . . we hope.
One thing is for certain; Sam and Sadie know that they are meant to work with us, just like a sheepdog knows it’s to herd for its master. It is such a blessing to see the hand of God upon creation and to know that we are, as God’s husbandmen, to steward it. This is my Father’s world, not the virtual one of fallen man. Though it may be bitter cold outside with my body aching and exhausted from work, I’d rather be doing the will of God under these conditions than to be in relative comfort and ease outside of His will. I will readily admit it, however, that my flesh was hoping to stay inside tonight and put off checking them until tomorrow when it would be warmer, but our God ordained stewardship dictates that Sam and Sadie be looked into tonight, bitter cold and all. That’s a part of agrarianism I am coming to accept and respect, to be there for our beasts of burden when they need us, just like the Lord is always there for us, and not when it is convenient or suitably comfortable. --- The Missouri Rev
posted by Missouri Rev | 9:54 PM
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