Raising Working Cow Horses from Foundation Quarter Horse and Paint Bloodlines

A Foundation Story

   The FQHR defines the foundation quarter horse as follows....

The American Quarter Horse Association was organized in 1940 with similar intent.  Therefore the Foundation Quarter Horse Registry recognizes those horses listed in the first five studbooks (first 27,000 horses registered) as Foundation bred.

Most individuals carrying 75% Foundation blood are eligible for registration. The fourth generation is critical (great grand sires and great grand dams), of that generation 75% should descend from or run to Foundation blood.  No registered thoroughbred may be closer than the fourth generation...

Description of the Foundation Quarter Horse

"The Foundation Quarter Horse is easily recognized by his body shape and unique conformation. He is more horse for the height than is found in any other breed. Built low to the ground, much of the time he does not exceed fifteen hands, but due to his build will often weigh twelve hundred pounds or more. The pattern of his muscle adorns nearly every part of his body.

There is his small alert ear, wide set honest bright eye that windows his great intelligence and kindness, bulging jaw, neck of moderate length joined low into his sloping shoulder, topped by a well defined wither. A short back with strong lion, deep barrel with long underline, well sprung ribs with great heart girth.

The space between the forelegs is ample to supply for a wide, well developed chest, while the forearms, gaskins, and hindquarters carry the muscle that separates the Foundation Quarter Horse from all others. Seen from the rear the power filled stifles are wider than the croup.

The bones of the Foundation Quarter Horse are trim, dense, and sturdy. His rugged frame is necessary to support the bulk that provides his strength. The cannon bones are short and flat set above strong pasterns. The foot is deep with open heel, well rounded with sufficient size. When under observation, the animal displays his divine design.. "

-Dillon Shook

While this is unarguably accurate and correct we would like to expand the definition to include some traits ( via storytelling) that we think are equally important and cause us to regard the foundation horse as being a separate breed from the modern quarter horse. Since we own both kinds of broodmares we have had occasion to notice some small differences. The stories of foals to follow are based on truth and are written in fun for your entertainment.   

                                                                                      -Michelle Aston

 

Spring 2008  How It All Began

It has been a little over ten  years since we dared to dream of someday owning a horse ranch. We met late in life, our early forties, but knew immediately the dream had a chance. Three years of Sunday chicken dinners ending with saving the wishbone in a can on a shelf so it would dry and then pulling it for a wish and finding out later the wish  was exactly the same. And so the Broken Wishbone Ranch was started with a simple Sunday dinner, two gelding, one old, one young, an old mare, and a weanling broodmare to be. We thought we'd be fenced in six months to a year-all seventeen acres-hah!.  Ignorance really is bliss. So we settled in happily to a life of blisters and back breaking labor digging fence holes but we got smarter ( and stubborner) as we went along and the tiredness never has dulled the joy of owning a place that was done ourselves. We have learned to never say never and to never give up. We now know anything can and will happen and just when you least expect it. We know that how bad your horse behaves in front of company or in public is directly related to how much bragging you did before you saddled him. But most of all we have learned that we will learn something new every day and that getting excited fixes nothing and that the job that never gets started takes the longest to finish. Along the way we were lucky enough to buy a few exceptional broodmares. So I begin.

Spring 2001 Our Very First Colt

The first colt out of our black foundation mare was a joy to behold. Born in the spring he was big and strong directly from birth but this is a story about his attitude...it seemed to be missing. Rebel was so easy to handle from birth we worried he was all there. From the first day you could handle his head, pick up his feet, stick your fingers in his ears etc. As time and spring wore on into summer nothing changed except maybe he got easier. Summer in the high desert was just a few days away and he was not shedding out his baby coat. Not only did I want to know what color he was going to end up but I was afraid he would sweat to death or over heat in our triple digit summer heat. He looked quite frankly like a huge teddy bear so I decided to clip him would be best and with his coat I knew it would take a couple of days to get it all done. I started slow, not that he cared , he  just stood there without a halter and let me clip his face and ears, down his legs and over his back like a veteran. When I went up to the house to change batteries he decided it was time for a nap. When I came back and found him sprawled on the ground in our front pasture I just shrugged and sat down on his hip and picked up a back leg and resumed clipping while he slept. The highway runs in front of our house and the next thing I knew a car was screeching to a halt and a lady jumped out.  " Oh my god," she said, " Do you need help?" I assured her that  I was fine and she asked if it was too late, was the colt dead? When I got done laughing, much to her offence, I  told her he was just sleeping. What breed of horse is that she wanted to know? When I told her quarter horse she told me she had quarter horses and none of them acted like that I must be some trainer. When I got done laughing again I told her the truth, he was a foundation bred quarter horse and his laid back attitude was bred in.

Having had such tremendous luck with our first colt I eagerly awaited our next foal. This one was to be out of our big beautiful  halter bred (modern, Impressive) mare. Since this was to be her first foal  we were watching her like a hawk...so of course we missed it. The foal was a beautiful bay tobiano paint filly-just what we wanted. Mama was laid back about our handling the foal but the foal had different ideas. We figured missing the birth had set us back  a little but we persevered and were able to get her in the barn. From the beginning it was apparent we had a new game. Anything that had taken one time and five minutes with Rebel, was a big deal with this filly. It could all still be done but it  was work! If I flapped a blanket at the colt he yawned, if I flapped a blanket at the filly I watched her disappear into the cow pasture not to return until dinner time. All things were still possible but it took longer and it was all a BIG deal! Time and patience has cured this and she is now a willing participant in her training-but that is the difference, with her it is training.

Spring 2002  The Success Continues

Another year had rolled around and we were waiting for the black mare to foal again. This time it was a beautiful grullo colt and we were elated! Once again he could be handled, haltered, clipped, trimmed-nothing mattered we did not even need a halter to handle him. One touch on the chest and a soft  ho and he stood like a dream. I was out in the same pasture clipping this colt when the same lady drove by. Since this time the colt was standing she knew this one was not dead and we had a good laugh. I walked her over to the next pasture to see last years colt and called him over. He walked over and stood quietly-keeping his face to himself. "I see you had him gelded,"  she said.  "Nope, he is just dead quiet." She had to bend down and look and then told me this HAD  to be a separate breed of horse, she could not believe his temperament.

Time has once more rolled around and my best girlfriend has become a believer. When she started her search for a colt she was looking for foundation bloodlines (thanks in part to knowing our colts)  and found the colt of her dreams, a black Driftwood bred weanling colt. When he was delivered from Idaho he walked out of the trailer like he had just been around the block instead of traveling for 24hrs. We put him in  the round pen to stretch his legs where he walked around, looked everything over and started eating. "Is that it?" she asked in disbelief. I laughed all the way home. Two days went past when I got a phone call saying she thought something was wrong with the colt should she call the vet? When I asked her what was wrong she said nothing. He wasn't afraid of chickens, crossties, the barn, or anything else he hadn't seen before. Fortunately I was able to stop her from calling the breeder to see if the mare ( his dam) had had a difficult birth-she was worried he was oxygen deprived! After laughing myself silly I reminded her about my colts and how impressed she was at my "training" of them.

Time has changed nothing-these colts are born with sense and it only gets better. As quiet as these animals are they are just as willing and have never refused to do anything we ask of them. To us the word that  describes them best is kind. The foundation horse is safe enough for children and hard working enough for adults .We have decided to never buy anything but the best foundation mares we can find and breed them to only foundation stallions. We have gotten older and our old bones really appreciate these horses and the lack of wrestling or rodeoing  that accompanies owning them. Life is too short to own anything but a foundation horse. The time is approaching to saddle the first colt, Rebel-I hope he stays awake for it!  With a highway running in the front and a railway in the back of the property with border patrol helicopters thrown in for good measure our foals are exposed to it all. I am sure there will be more stories to come as we are expecting a new crop of foals this spring. The first to foal will be our Oklahoma bred palomino-her first foal-we can hardly wait. Then late spring will be our little speedball barrel mare-stay tuned!

Sarge ( the grullo colt) has gone to a new home and we decided to visit and see how he has settled in. His new owners were able to put him in with their weanlings and a mare with a foal by her side with no fuss. Not being a fool, after all he ran with our mares, Sarge eased himself into every day life at this new home like he had always lived there. His new owners had a tale to tell us (naturally) about something spooking the weanlings and mare. Sarge just stood there and watched as they thundered by once or twice, he couldn't figure out what was the big deal. When they drive their tractor in the others take off but he comes over to the tractor to visit-mister social. As quiet as their own horses are they are amazed at a stud colt with this disposition.  I just wish I could take the  credit!

Early Spring 2003 Funny Things Happen

Every now and then even experienced horse people do damn fool things and live to tell about them-this is such a story! Winter ( such as it is here in  Southern California) has set in and due to the long thermometer we have begun blanketing on wet nights. While it is freezing at night the days have been cursed with Santa Ana winds that drive the temperature up into the high seventies, too high for blankets by far, and also send the sand flying in 40 mile per hour winds. I was trying to get the blankets off the boys  (geldings) and the wind was making it a struggle. Finally it was Rebels turn, now a handsome coming two year old stud and fortunately for me a more calm sensible colt has never been born. The darn wind was howling steady with gusts up to 50, even 60 miles per hour and the colt did not want to face into the driving sand while I shed his blanket. So, after undoing the leg and belly straps I made the mistake of letting him turn butt to the wind and a huge gust promptly grabbed the blanket ( which was still buckled at his chest) and flipped it over both his head and mine! I gotta admit it was sure quiet in there. I was looking at him and he was looking at me like ok now what do we do? I am still thanking providence that his breeding gives him the temperament to just stand there and wait for me to get us both out of it! Another colt might have panicked and the wreck would have been a  spectacular story had I (we) lived to tell it. Needless to say I have learned a lesson and won't be repeating this little piece of stupidity!

Now most of my stories of life on the farm are about horses but this one is about cows. We got into cows probably the same way a lot of people do. The price of beef was heart stopping and we already were raising our own eggs. We don't eat our chickens though because I am not plucking chickens. Period. However we did decide it would be nice to raise our own hormone free, antibiotic free, cheap beef. Hah! We set forth over to our farriers place to pick out a beef calf. Now Hector raises some mighty fine beef and in short order we had a nice looking angus calf and a heifer. The heifer we bought because heck why have to buy calves when you can buy a heifer and she can have a calf a year. Her name is Rosie. Next thing you know two more heifers join the growing herd, Radar ( them are some ears ) and Blossom. Now we need to breed the heifers so once again back to Hectors to borrow his bull, Thunder. Now we watch bull riding and are rodeo fans so we should not have been so surprised how big he was,  but fortunately for us  he's a 2500lb yard dog. Rosie however took one look at him and disappeared over the horizon. So, back to Hectors ( at least somebody is making money, he smiles when he sees us coming ) for a bull calf. Since Thunder was so docile we decided to buy a son of his, now named Norman. Now don't get me wrong-I might name the breeding stock but I have NO problem eating a beef steer. In fact, out beef steer was lucky to make it as long as he did. I threatened him daily ( usually from a tree or fence top ) with bringing my own knife and fork next feeding time. He had quite the attitude for a steer and it is amazing how fast a 50 year old farm wife that is over weight and dressed in rubber boots can run through knee deep mud. We have put a couple of years behind us in the cow business. The first beef steer is in the freezer and Norman has done his job and the heifers are expecting calf's. Profit is around the corner. Last night at feeding time Rosie had the grace to calf while it was still daylight. We ran around throwing bales of alfalfa to the other cows to keep them from bugging her but nothing was going to get rid of Norman. He knew something was up and stayed with her all through the birth and even helped clean up the calf. Unfortunately this resulted in the calf struggling to her feet and not knowing who was mom and who was dad so she blundered over to dad expecting her first meal. Norman's enthusiasm for the job died immediately and luckily for the calf he was gentle when he rolled her off him! We got smart and decided to run him into another pasture to give mom some bonding time with her calf. It's a heifer and her name is Dandy courtesy of our granddaughter, short for Dandelion. Oh well, we'll sell the next one. By the way did I mention we now have a pig. Her name is Louise.

Now I know these are supposed to be horse stories but some of our funnier moments have involved the other farm animals and well I just can't resist this one-I hope my husband will forgive me! I like goats, not to eat mind you but they are fun as pets. I managed to convince my husband that a couple of goats would be handy for clearing brush and we could always sell the babies so I brought home two cute little guys named George and Gracie. My paint gelding  Dusty happens to like goats and was disappointed when I locked them in the barn out of his reach so he spent the entire night working on the latch and finally around dawn managed to let them out into his pen where he promptly scared them through the bars of his corral. We were having coffee when I mentioned to my husband that is sounded like the baby goats were out in the front yard and not safe in the barn where they were supposed to be. Since we live on the highway this was cause for concern so he threw on his robe and a pair of rubber boots and went down to investigate. Sure enough they were out and when he (we) tried to round them up the littlest one, Gracie darted across the highway onto the neighboring property which had not been brushed for about 50 years. My husband, bless his heart, heeding my cries, dashed across the highway after her and picking up his robe over his knees so he wouldn't trip went crashing through the brush after her. About that time the border patrol drove by slowly and decided he didn't really want to know why there was a man in a blue bathrobe and rubber boots hightailing it through the brush. It was just as well as I'm sure my laughter was enough for my husband. The goat finally lay down under a bush and my highly peeved husband was able to catch her. About a month later I was telling this story at the feed store to the owner when she one upped me with the tale of her husband, also in a blue bathrobe and rubbers but with the addition of a gun belt went chasing  an ostrich down the same highway. The best part of the story  was after her husband caught and tackled said bird and held it down  by sitting on its head a passing motorist ( poor unsuspecting women) stopped and eyeing his rather unorthodox wardrobe asked if he needed any help. When he asked her for one of her stockings( to use as a hood) she rolled up her window and sped off! No wonder border patrol kept going!

Summer 2003  Never Laugh At Another's Misfortune

Foaling season has come and gone and we have a new addition, Choo Choo out of our barrel mare, Loco. Choo is well mannered, easy to handle but has only one speed, full out, hence the name. The palomino mare in spite of being round as a barrel turned out to have absorbed her foal early on so we have once again learned a lesson. We will be re-checking our mares in early spring before we start feeding them up!

We depend on Hector ( our farrier) for a lot more than just shoes. He is always bailing us out when we need help castrating pigs or branding calves and we have learned a great deal from him so you would think I would know better than to laugh when stuff happens to him instead of us. He was over helping my husband castrate and ring piglets and for once I wasn't there getting muddy and bloody with them. Hector expressed a little concern that the huge sow was going to get upset but we had sorted her into another pen earlier that day and my husband assured him she was a pet anyway so not to worry. The noise from the piglets was deafening but it all went well and was soon over. The problems started when my husband and Hector went to leave. In order to get out they had to exit through the pen that the mightily pissed off sow was in, poor planning on our part. My husband went first in order to keep the sow away from poor Hector who knew darned well what was about to happen. The way my husband tells it he never realized how fast Hector was or how high he could jump over a hot wired fence. When told this story I had a hearty laugh at poor Hectors expense never realizing that history was about to repeat its self. The piglets were all sold and it was time to deliver them to their new owners who lived just down the road. My husband and I backed the truck up and readied the crates and in we went to catch them, through the sows pen (once again) which was when my husband told me the story. Now Pearl is my pet so I convinced myself that she wouldn't get mad at me and anyway we were just catching and crating them so they probably wouldn't be screaming bloody murder like last time. Wrong. On both counts. They started running and screaming the minute we tried to grab one and for a few minutes pandemonium reigned. When the dust cleared I mentioned that wasn't so bad but I had forgotten that the only way out was through the sows pen. As I stepped out she charged open mouthed and barking and I decided speed was my only chance. I made it to the gate ahead of her but couldn't get the dang gate open fast enough so I was forced to keep going circling the pen trying not to run into the tree or fall into their pond yelling over the pigs noise at my laughing husband to rescue me. Finally he got between her and me with a shovel and I was able to escape. It was three days before I went in to clean as she was still mad and what the heck it was only a pig pen.

Spring 2004  It Can Happen To Anybody

We now own two stallions ( three if you count the pony) as we bought my girl friends black foundation colt when it became too hard for her to keep him. She had him boarded at a stable and one of the other boarders was concerned he was going to break out one night and breed her mare so he came to live with us. Now we have always thought that a stallion should be treated like any other horse and as such don't believe in isolating them so ours are all in together. They do just fine. We originally worried about the pony due to his diminutive size( all of 9 hands) but not to worry his ego is the largest of all and he is in charge. He is first to the food and water and it is a riot to watch them play with the horse ball. If a dispute does break out they are careful as while they are only playing he means it and they know it! It is a source of great pride to us that when people stop and ask to see our stallions and we can safely walk in to a pasture full of studs and not have to worry! My eight year old granddaughter can halter and lead any of them and they will just walk quietly along like any other well mannered horse. Now I always wonder how other horse people get into some of the situations I hear about-never mind that some of these exact things then happen to me! We had a neighbor that was giving away some foals one year due to the fact that they were not sure how their mares came to be in foal since they did not own any stallions. What they did own were 2 yearling colts, about 14 months of age or so, still running with their open mares. Duh. Now I pride myself on my careful planning and management of my horses so I was overly scornful of this little faux pas and also of the border at my girlfriends boarding stable who worried about a break out and possible rape of her mare.   I promptly got to find out first hand how these things comes to pass. It comes under the heading "stuff happens ". No matter how well you plan and how careful you are you can not lose sight of the fact that the stallions are also watching and planning, just waiting for their chance. Now we have good non climb stud fencing and hot wire to boot, even across the gates, so while our boys can see and talk to the mares they can't get to them. Right. All it took was a hot wire failure after dark and the game was on. The filly they took was in season and had been teasing them all day ( from a couple of pens away) and they must have been testing the wire every so often. It was about eight o'clock at night and I was heading off for my allotted four hours of sleep before I got up to do my mare watch shift. Switching on the lights in the mare pens I caught a glimpse of the pony streaking through the pump house pasture and knew immediately what had happened. Calling to my husband I grabbed a flashlight and ran down the driveway just in time to see them all, boys and 3 year old  filly disappear into the dark east pasture. What followed was the stuff of nightmares as we ( my husband and I) were once again in our pajamas and house slippers and baby sitting two excitable grandkids  who thought this was one nifty adventure. Eventually we caught up to them and found Rebel in possession of the filly. She was glued to his side and not too happy to the object of desire of three young dumb stallions. Once we got hold of her and drove off the three stooges we figured out what had happened. Needless to say the stallions have moved house, several pastures away and no longer have a common fence line with the mares hot wired or not!

Once again it is foaling season. This time we know for sure the palomino mare is expecting but the season has not been without trials. Our black mare lost her foal at nine months and we were heartbroken. The vet says it was a fluke so we will breed her back in the spring. Our big red halter mare started shaping up in January but was not due until May so once again we got the vet out. We knew she had conceived twins but thought she absorbed one as we only found one heart beat at the time of ultrasound ( around 40 days) so we quit worrying until the same  mare bagged up and dropped with three months to go! The poor vet ultra sounded her for hours and a rectal exam was also inconclusive so we were forced to go on foal watch way early. Every year I spend weeks not sleeping but this year I spent months without a full nights sleep. However diligence pays off. I caught one of the outside mares we had bred in the first stages of labor while delivering one of the pigs to her owner. She delivered a fine chestnut filly by our Brown APHA stallion Rebel seven hours later. The next morning I went to check on her and while driving down the highway towards home I glanced at the other outside mare I bred standing in her pasture and lo and behold she was foaling 17 days early! I turned around on the highway and raced up their drive to tell the owners who were getting ready to leave for Easter dinner at their mothers. The 18 year old mare needed a little help and we were able to be there to give it. Luck was on our side. Now it was our turn to wait. I was so centered on our possible twins it caught me by surprise when I noticed our palomino mare in stage one, also 18 days early. She foaled easily early the next morning, a fine cremello filly. Now we were down to the big mare with possible twins but she still had 25 days to go. Four days later I was sitting in a lawn chair in the early afternoon just filling the cows water tank when I happened to glance down the hill at the mares just in time to see her go down and start pushing! I phoned  some friends for help as I flew down the driveway. I figured I would need lots of hands as if she had twins they would be 21 days early and tiny. She surprised me with one extra large colt and he was on the ground before I could get in the pen to help her. Junior was 10 hands and 110lbs at birth! He is going to be one big boy. It is time to re- breed ( except for Star the stolen filly who may already be in foal) and we are really excited at the prospect of  Taters first foals .

Summer 2004  Lessons Learned

On my list of things to never, ever, under any circumstances to do again is selling cows ( calves) to neighbors within sight of the ranch. The reasons behind this new, wiser outlook are simple. First of all there is the aggravation of listening to the heifer and calf call to each other across the highway  night and day for weeks and possibly months. Then there is the joy of waking up and finding out they have come home sometime in the middle of the night and rejoined mom thereby having to be weaned again and your eighty year old neighbor would like you to bring them back. Please.  And not just once either. Add to this highway roundups (my daughter got to do  this one  by herself, we weren't home and once again the victim was wardrobe challenged and in rubbers) and you begin to get the picture. Time has passed and now they just stand at the fence across the highway ( still mooing loudly) and piss off Norman ( the bull). He doesn't remember this loud mouthed upstart as his son, all he knows is some strange bull is courting his heifers so he bellows back and stands there tearing up the dirt and throwing huge clouds of dust over his back. Then to top it all off Juan (my eighty year old neighbor)  comes over to get them ( they now have collars on mind you and are both trailing twenty feet of rope) and ends up being dragged off into the brush behind a galloping cow. He's tough for an old guy  but I still cringe with guilt and wait to hear of his demise every time it happens, so, never, ever again am I going to sell cows to a neighbor.

Now if you have been following these stories of farm life you know that my horseshoer is always going beyond the call of horse shoeing duty and helping out with castrating pigs and branding calves with us and we really appreciate all his help . Every now and then I get to tip the scales back in our favor and it looked like this was going to be the day. We live on a country highway, not that it slows people down, and cows on the highway are a common hazard and hitting one can be deadly both to the cow and the driver of the vehicle so when I went down to feed the cows this morning and instead of coming in to feed they galloped off the other way I knew we had a visitor and sure enough there was Hectors bull standing on the hill just across the highway. At the time I thought he was still behind a fence so I went on about my morning chores until I heard Norman start to bellowing. This time when I looked up Hectors bull was standing in the middle of the highway. Now we have exactly three places to get help in this part of the valley and I was one of them with my 80 year old neighbor being the second and the chicken ranch clear across the valley being the third so I was on my own with this one. I ran to the phone and ruined  Hectors wife's morning coffee by telling her the news (and her comment will not be printed here). Then I grabbed a flake of alfalfa and a rope ( yeah, right I was only going to haze him I'm not THAT stupid). I figured first I'd try to bribe him home with the hay but as I drove up to him he moved off back towards his pasture so I just kept pushing him slowly and then he turned and jumped the fence. It is amazing how high an animal that big can jump! About that time Hector drove up and when I told him what happened he started checking fence for a downed spot. He was never able to find how he got out. No down fence anywhere but since he was back he just shrugged and went on home.  The next morning I was telling my husband this story and he was envious that he's never home when the fun happens. Right. My feelings exactly. I dropped the subject on that note and off we went to feed. By the time we got down the driveway to the cow pasture I could here the ruckus and sure enough there was Hectors bull grazing on the side of the highway. Again. This time I at least had the help of a good cowboy so off he went to haze him off the highway and I went to the phone to make Hectors morning once again and then went for hay. After all this wasn't my first round up. (This week) This time I was on foot and as I walked up I was glad to see my husband had moved him off the highway but he was not interested in going home and my first comment to my husband was, Damn he's big. Fortunately he was a big yard dog and just followed me back to the fence and over when I threw the hay over for him. Now I say over but this time he pushed down a good 30 feet of fence to get out which if you ever see this fence you'll understand is not so hard. It ( the fence) must be 150 years old, and composed of rusty barbed wire, old bed springs, wood pallets and I swear I saw an old tractor blade blocking a hole a few yards down. Typical Campo fence. (remember this comment.) I went back to work and we forgot all about this latest chapter of farm life until a week or so later while standing at the cow fence checking out heifers I mentioned to my husband that our youngest cow, Shy Violet, looked like she was going to calf early. I was originally not expecting any calves until January and it was only early November. The next day my husband went off to work in town,( he only does this two days a week, the rest of the time he works at home) and I went off to do my chores. Now  I do a wellness check of every animal every day, twice a day, making sure no one is injured, sick, or giving birth and then I started to feed and water as all was well. That afternoon I went down to feed again and noticed all my horses facing the cow pasture watching something and sure enough Violet was down trying to deliver her calf. After awhile it became apparent she was going to need help as the calf was huge and stuck tight. I tried pulling but that was going no where so I ran to the phone to get help and then went for the tractor. Violet was down right in front of the gate so I tied a rope around the calves front legs and then around the tractor bucket but I had visions of dragging her through the gate calf and all so instead of pulling her with the tractor I booted her in the but until she got up and lo the calf ( being attached to an immovable object) pulled right out. The calf was a fine bull and about then the possee ( my girlfriends) arrived and we carried him into the front pasture with mom following behind. He was so big  two of us could barely lift him but he was healthy and doing fine. Once again my husband complained I get to have all the fun. I do love him.

Fall 2004  Never Around When You Need Them

Birthing times are always fun and I learn something new it seems each time. One lesson I have learned well is birth happens ( regardless of species) when the animal is good and ready and not when you are. A good nights sleep and warm dry weather are not in their criteria. Ever. We spent the Saturday after Thanksgiving, a dreary rainy day, in town with my oldest daughter watching her bitch have puppies. I have been waiting five or six years for one of Mollys pups and this was to be her last litter so I wanted to be there. Six hours after we got there the last pup was born and we decided to celebrate with pizza. By the time we got home it was dark and raining and threatening to snow  I just wanted to fall into bed. My husband decided to go down and check on our big heifer Rosie. She was shaping up and had spent the last couple of days laying down a lot and off by herself so he figured he would just make sure everything was ok. I had just flopped on the bed when the front door banged open and my husband yelled get up, Rosie has twins. Great. It's freezing AND snowing/raining. couldn't be better. Once again I found myself ( my daughter also) in rubber boots, pajamas and a rain slicker out in a dark pasture with a flashlight looking for cows. I know cows have been giving birth without help in all kinds of weather without mans help but we do not have that many cows and calves are profit, I cannot afford to lose even one. We found the littlest one standing by herself in the pouring rain, mom having wandered off following the other one so we picked her up and brought her into the barn where we ejected my outraged mares ( they have blankets) into the rain. Then we went back for the other one and mom. They were so tiny and cold I'm sure we would have lost one if not both if we had not found them when we did. We dried the off and bedded them down in a bunch of dry straw and went back to bed. Another typical  day on the ranch.

Almost a month has passed and I am tired of mucking out a barn stall full ( full being the operative word here) of cow shit. So we decided the twins had grown enough to go back with the herd where they belonged. Now if you have been paying attention you know how much I love round ups, especially the unplanned ones. The twins took one look at the happy to be united herd bearing down on them and turned tail and ran, right through the fence and kept going. S##t. We have been up here for six years and when we started fencing we promised we would not have a typical Campo fence, especially as we have a mile and a half of highway frontage, and I hate rounding up cows on the highway. Fortunately the highways side is five foot non-climb horse fence and the calves went out the back, temporarily fenced with corral panels ( my arena panels) that they neatly fitted through. Fifteen minutes of cussing and crashing through the brush we realized they had run down the fence and were back in with momma. Needless to say they are now back in the barn until they grow some more. After this little frackus I took another look at Violets bull calf, now over a month old and big for his age. I asked my husband what he thought and (I have to admit) we both decided he was too big to fit through. Hah! The next afternoon as I went down to feed by myself, ( guess where Vic was) I noticed the cows staring at something out back and there he was. Outside the fence. I tried luring him food, intending to trap him in an empty pen or run him through  the gate but the cows were being a little too helpful, running up and down the fence getting him all panicked so with a sigh I went for a rope. Now I can rope, I just don't like to as something unforeseen always happens and not in a good way. Just my luck I caught him on my first loop ( not bad huh) but the problem was I was on foot and just found out he out weighed me. The best part is I am recovering from a torn shoulder. By now I wished I had a gun but since I didn't I tied him to a tree temporarily while I figured out my next move. He was too big to pull so that was out and he would not move the direction I wanted him to  so I figured out I better go get a horse and drag his ornery little butt back where he belonged. About that time my little pup Artie came into the picture. He's a little nine pound  ( white) jack russell  terrier mix that was bought as a house dog but he loves to be with me and has ended up a ranch rat. After watching me cuss this calf for awhile he ran in and nipped his heels driving the calf to the end of the rope-in the right direction so I untied him and walked down the fence towards the gate and retied him further down the fence this time. Then I sicked Artie on him. With my little house dogs help I moved him down the fence and through the gate in a matter of minutes.  For an untrained dog he went at it like a pro. When I told my husband this he laughed and then we went down to fix the fence where he went through. You guessed it. We used a wood pallet and an old ranch gate to block the spot where he fit through. We now have our first official piece of Campo fence.

Spring 2005  Triumph and Tragety

We have two mares due this spring. Princess, our black foundation mare is bred to our black stud, Tater. And Loco-bred to Rebel who is actually due first. Loco had a 7am delivery of a fine big filly-we have named her Rebels Glory Bea and she is destined to be a barrel horse- runs all day long even as a baby and hardy ever lays down to sleep! Princess is not doing well. Before we bought her she had a case of shipping fever while being shipped from Texas to California resulting in an aborted foal and a retained placenta. The results of which were a mild foal founder. We knew this when we bought her but she was recovered and we could not pass up such a fabulous mare at the price they were asking for her. We have had quite a few good foals out of her and were hoping this would be her last one before a well earned retirement but she kept getting progressively sorer and sorer. We tried everything-special shoes, shoes turned backwards, medication, even another hideously expensive "specialty farrier", ( sorry Hector), but to no avail. Finally we decided to nerve her, knowing full well it could go bad but unable to give up on the foal. She made it to her foaling date and blessed us with a beautiful liver colt. We named him Spud after his daddy. Two weeks later we had to euthanize Princess. She was a grand old dam and will be sorely missed. All of her colts stayed stallions, even the ones we sold. They have impeccable manners and are solid and safe to ride. The orphan was a problem we were not really prepared to deal with. Since Princess and Loco were pasture buddies we turned him back out with Loco the next morning so he would grow up properly socialized. He wanted nothing to do with a bottle and would not drink out of a bucket but nibbled on his milk replacer pellets so we gave him a couple of hours to see what would happen. Not to worry-Loco nursed him right along side of Glory Bea and never missed a beat. We fed the heck out of her and kept both foals on milk replacer pellets in a creep feeder. At three months it finally started to pull the mare down too much so we weaned them both and kept them together in a pen along side super mom. They have never missed a meal and neither one is slow growing or backwards. We think Loco is worth her weight in gold-what a mare.

Summer 2006  The Plague Comes To The Valley

I pride myself on my lack of vet bills. Just before we bought the ranch I hauled myself back to school and took classes to become a veterinary assistant. I had no real thoughts of doing this as a job , there is no money in it and the hours suck, but I thought it might come in handy some day and it has, many, many times. This is not to say I never see the vet but it does keep the expenses down quite a bit for our little horse operation. That morning when I went to feed the geldings I noticed my paint gelding seemed a bit stiff in the hind end. As soon as I walked around him I could see the problem-his sheath was grotesquely swollen-to the point where he could Not urinate. This one was beyond me so off to phone Jack ( Dr. Kibbee) our vet I went. An hour late he took one look at him and I got the bad news. Dryland Distemper. Well hell. This disease had gone around every few years back when we lived in Lakeside but I had always been lucky enough to escape it. Now, it was here with a vengeance. Then the phone calls started coming in from friends and neighbors-it was spreading through the valley quickly. We went into lockdown on the ranch. No vehicles but our own in or out. All visitors must bleach their shoes and go through decontamination procedures. No touching the animals. No sharing brushes, buckets, hoof picks, halters or anything else. Isolate sick horses. Spray all tires on tractors, golf carts and wheelbarrows with bleach. Within a week I could no longer separate everyone. Every pen or pasture had at least one sick horse-seven in total out of fourteen. Most cases were minor-one or two abscesses at most that would burst and then be gone. We cleaned each horse's abscesses daily with betadine and they started to get better. By now 2 months had passed but the original  patient was deathly sick by this time. He had hundreds of abscesses and they just kept coming. His feet were starting to fail and he lost almost two hundred pounds and I was desperate. Our big broodmare Ellie had developed a huge abscess  in her body cavity way up high behind her right leg. She couldn't walk and was sick as a dog. One of the local vets had held a clinic that was pretty useless as far as helpful information went, not his fault, not much is really known about how this disease spreds. According to him there was only one confirmed case in the valley yet of the 40 or so people at the meeting at least 30 had multiple horses sick. He couldn't tell us for sure how it spread, airborne, flies, bacteria in the soil, lots of maybes. But-he did mention in passing an old farmers trick that had been known to work. Sodium Iodine given interveinously once a week for 3 or 4 weeks. I raced home and called Jack and being an old cow vet he had heard of it being used to treat wooden tongue in cows-a similar bacteria. By now the big broodmares abscess had burst but now the huge hole in her side was bubbling ominously. It was bad news again, Gas gangrene had set in. Jack ordered the drugs as it was not something he would normally keep on hand and the next day we started treatment. By the second week both Dusty and Ellie were starting to pick up appetite. After five desperate months All the horses but Dusty were well, including the gas gangrene mare and Dusty was slowly coming back. His feet were wrecked thanks to a billion abscesses in his soles and his coronary bands but with good shoeing and pads and thousands of dollars in vet bills he has finally come back to me. Needless to say all our mares aborted thanks to the sickness but everyone is bred back and we have hope for Spring 2007.

January 2007  The Cowboy Way

Disaster-well sort of. Vic's company is relocating to Justin, Texas and we have made the big decision to go with them. God help us. We love this place so much it hurts to even think of giving it up but we need an income and the cost of living and the price of hay in California is steadily rising. We would like to retire some day so we reluctantly put the "for sale" sign up. Moving across country with all these animals is a logistics nightmare so we have decided to sell the cows and pigs and just take the horses ( and goat, dogs, cats). So we called our favorite customer, the Clarks and told them the herd was for sale and asked them to pass the word. An hour later they called back and bought the entire herd. That was east right? Nope. We still had to catch them and get them ready for delivery. John decided to trailer them himself so we set about getting them in the trap.  This shouldn't be too hard as my heifers and the bull come to their names to be fed-all but the last two heifers we had bought from Hector. These two had some Brahma in them and were wild as March hares but I kept working on them and I was pretty sure I could get them when the time came. Moving day came and into the trap they all went, all but one. The one that stayed out surprised me as of the two wild ones she was the one that had tamed down. Not. John got them into the trailer no problem with a little hay and once his heifers went in Norman (the bull) followed  like a Gentleman. John decided to move the ones he had and come back for the last heifer and in the mean time I would try to trap her again. I started by not feeding her for a day and on day two I opened the trap and threw in some hay. On day three she decided she was hungry and in she went. Out from behind the tree where I was hiding I sprinted for the gate but before I could get it closed she came charging out. I tried two more times and the she decided she didn't need hay after all and off she went. That night at dinner I confessed this little fiasco to my husband and after a good laugh he went out to fix the trap "the cowboy way". It involved 50 feet of rope and hiding behind the same darned tree but what the heck at least I didn't have to outrun the bitch. Next day in she went and I eased back on the rope and nothing happened. The gate was supposed to swing shut trapping her in but wasn't working so I pulled harder. Still nothing. Cussing under my breath I slowly stepped out from behind the tree to see if I could tell what the rope was hung up on. Sure enough that damned heifer was standing on it. So, screaming like a madwoman I charged the gate hoping to scare her in but to no avail. She took one look at me and disappeared into the sunset. Take two, "the cowboy way". Next day bright and early I went out to the cow pasture and drained the water tank. Then I put a small tank in the very back of the catch pen and filled it up, threw in some hay and waited. That afternoon the heifer slowly poked her head over the hill scanning the horizon for the crazy woman trying to catch her. When she was satisfied I was not there she slowly crept in and started to eat. Out popped the crazy woman and slammed the gate. Mission accomplished. For all of 5 seconds which is how long it took the heifer to react and promptly jump the 6 ft of wire fence topped with hot wire. Back to the drawing board. This time it didn't take as long to catch her and I was careful not to spook her afterwards. Throwing a bunch of hay I went to report to my husband that we could get rid of her when he came home that afternoon. Hah. They say God takes care of fools and I'm not disputing it but first he has a good long laugh. We called John and told him we had caught her and would deliver her ourselves but could use some extra hands hazing her into the trailer as she was a jumper. That afternoon we backed up the trailer and with myself, John, his wife and teenage son plus Vic and our daughter we surrounded the pen with ropes and whips in hand confident the heifer would know she was outnumbered and give up and get in the trailer. Nope. So, my husband decided to go in and haze this crazy bitch himself whence she promptly rolled over the top of him and then once again jumped the fence almost landing on John in the process. John laughed and told us to call us when we had her again, she was paid for and we were feeding her so he wasn't worried about leaving her. He figured the worst that could happen is that we would sell the ranch and he would come and get her at that point. In our defense we did think of going after her with a horse but after having Hector over we decided she would end up on the highway dead at this rate so we went back to trapping her. Thus was born the Mexican catch pen. Now we love to make fun of Hector (our most excellent Mexican horseshoer and friend)  but the truth is he is a damned fine cowboy and can always get the job done. If you go to Hectors place his fence is a delightfully colorful blend of barbed wire, hog wire, chicken mesh, split rails, t posts and the ever present wooden pallet. We torture him about it but it works. So now we needed to make the fence on this catch pen higher somehow and taking a page from the Mexican cowboys handbook we built it up with two layers of wooden pallets tied onto the fence with old rope all the way around. My husband stood back when he was finished and pronounced it beautiful, a work of art. It worked like a charm and she couldn't jump it but she was still as ornery as hell and willing to fight to the death. When John came back he brought his dog. This dog was a failed sheep dog, a little red and white border collie that had proved to be too aggressive for sheep but boy did that aggression come in handy now. She latched onto that cows nose and didn't give up till finally the heifer broke and jumped in the trailer just to be rid of the dog. A cattle dog is a thing of beauty and I smile to think of her to this day.

Well we sold all the cows, then the pigs. Then I sold my precious palm turkeys, it really killed me. Then I made the hard decision to sell our mini stallion and mare.  Had I known what was to come I would never have done it but they have a wonderful home and are loved and spoiled. About the time we got the house on the market the market itself started to buckle and then to collapse completely. After six months Vic's company decided we were taking too long to get there and gave him an ultimatum-move or they would replace him. After everything we had been through there was no way I  (we) was going to sell the ranch at a loss so the deal was dead and (Yippee) we were staying. We were so relieved-what the hell were we thinking to put our beloved dream on the market? But it was over and we were staying-all be it unemployed with lots of hungry mouths to feed. Fortunately the man is brilliant, not to mention lucky and a bigger, better job came around and all is well on the Broken Wishbone.

Spring 2007  Business As Usual

Spring has sprung and the foals are all due within a three to four week period between March and April. Okie is expecting by our Black stallion, Loco is also expecting a Tater foal and the newest addition to our band of mares, Tucker, is expecting a foal by Rebel. Ah, the rites of spring, no sleep, late night foal watch shifts and thanks to Vic's new job I get to do his shift as well as my own. I envy people who just sleep through it and go down in the morning to find a foal. I am not made that way. I worry, creep down every half hour through the night and generally drive myself crazy trying to out guess the mare. The mares on the other hand are experts at out smarting me. Loco took pity on me this year and had an early morning foal. I looked her over well and then went to bed for a couple of hours to await the vet's well baby check. The first words out of his mouth were to tell me I look worse each foaling season, thanks Jack. One month later the other two foaled a day apart but not without trauma. Both Okie and her colt spiked a fever and scared me silly but good old antibiotics took care of it. Then it was Tuckers turn. As a maiden mare I was watching her closely so when she only presented one foreleg I was able to slide a hand in and ease the other one out. Fortunately there was a nose resting on the missing leg which was flexed back at the knee. The filly was huge-Rebel breeds big babies-but Tucker delivered her after a short struggle and all seemed well. Two days later she had a stinking discharge and back came the vet. More antibiotics later and she was on the mend but a little bruised and her bladder was bruised as well it turned out. It was a month before she got her tone back but all is well now-my constant vigilance payed off. Loco will be retiring after this foal, she has earned her keep and them some and we hope to enjoy her company for many years to come.

Since we were staying we started up again on our projects. New 80ft by 100ft , stud pens, I hate corrals, too confining. A new feed shed 12ft by 20 ft-hooray. New goat condos ( another fine Mexicanized project) and the purchase of a brand new herd of cattle. A fine red angus bull and four heifers-Hector is rich. Since we were busy transferring money from our checking account to his we also bough new pigs from him. He is probably as glad as we are that we are staying, after all he needs a steady source of income too. Also a  new cow pen that cows can come and go from but horses can't. (Not on the first try but to quote Tim Allen in Galaxy Quest ) never give up, never say die). And finally-the last section of fence. We worked at it until bad weather forced us to lay off for awhile but that last two hundred feet ate at us. My husband would stand at the gate to that pasture every night and grumble that he needed it to get done. Finally-the California weather did it's usual fake spring in the middle of February and in one day went from 28 and snowing to 75 the next day. We gave it a day or two to dry out and then finished it off in a mornings hard work. That's it, the fence is done. We are coyote proofed, both two legged and four legged variety, livestock and equine safe. Even if the get out they are still in the compound around the house where they are safe from traffic but unfortunately  where they will eat my roses. There are still projects and there will always be projects. Since we finished the fence there has been a wood crib, a deck for the green house-green house still to be assembled but here in a box, rose beds to plant and an arena and a new bull pen to build. All the mares are now out in pasture together and they have never looked better. The stallions are currently out in pasture together safely on the far east side of the property . We have kept Princess's two year old son of Tater, named Spud , her last hurrah  before she died. He's a beautiful boy and we get to keep that great Prescription King bloodline. We are up and running, stay tuned for more. Oh, yeah speaking of income-y'all come buy yourself a good horse-I'll make you a deal.

 

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LAST UPDATED: 03/19/2010 08:25 AM