Wildairo is a Mustang and proud of it.

Thanks to some words of wisdom from other Mustang owners I realize Wildairo's behavior is pretty normal for what he's been through in his short life. He had a whole year of being a wild Mustang living with his wild herd in Southern Oregon. Then he was chased by a helicopter into a trap. Men chased them with whips with plastic bags attached. He was separated from his family and ran through chutes to get worked over with shots and got branded. He's been rolled over on his side on a table to get his feet trimmed and to be gelded. He's been hauled at least twice by being chased into a trailer. When he arrived here he got out of the trailer sweating in fear.

I feel really honored that he trusts us. I look forward to the day when he understands I'd never let anyone in near him who'd try to hurt him. He's part of our family and he and his herd mate (horse with no name) will be taken care of, protected and loved for the rest of their lives.

When Brad came home from work there was just enough light to take a few pictures of Wildairo having his feet picked up. Most of the pictures were too blurry to publish.




Brad picked up his feet several times on each side. Wildairo wiggles about a bit and his balance isn't all that good yet. Brad said Wildairo tried really hard not to step on him. Also he never tried to kick .

As we said goodnight to Wildairo after the three of us made a big deal petting him and telling him he was a good boy, Brad was saying something about giving him a gallon of Budweiser just before Jeff comes back. Ha ha. Wildairo would drink it all down because he's a wild one alright.

Putting the wild back in Wildairo.

HELP!

I have a wild mustang in my corrals!!!

Today for the first time ever Wildairo acted like a wild horse. He was as sweet as pie when I put his halter on and hooked his lead rope.

Then he saw the stranger!

My little donkey eared horse became a fire breathing wild Mustang just because this stranger in chaps approached him. It was worse than I ever imagined. I have rope burns. If I was a drinking girl I'd have a drink around about now, yes siree.

Imagine if you catch a completely wild horse and try to touch him for the first time, that's what Wildairo was like today with the farrier. He gave him some carrots and greedy boy gobbled them up, he stood wild eyed as the farrier scratched his neck and even started to go all wiggly with his lip. But then he remembered 'stranger danger' and flew backwards in terror. Wildairo was terrified! He couldn't understand why the rest of his little herd, William and I didn't flee with him. I'd limped over to him to bring him back and he was relieved to see me and follow me back like a good little boy, then he go wild eyed again at the farrier.

I have never seen anything like it. He has bonded completely with us and trusts us but he as wild as the day he was caught with strangers.

Even if Jeff the farrier had managed to grab a hoof there's no way Wildairo would have held still to be trimmed. Jeff asked if William could lift his hoof up and I told him no because William is not a horse person, all he does is pet him and cuddle him. William wanted reassurance that Wildairo would be OK if he goes without a trimming a bit longer. Jeff said he was in big need of a trim and was growing long in the toes which would eventually make him sit back too much on his heels and it would cause tendon damage over time. Or he could knock a big chunk out on the rocks. Jeff didn't think it was a good thing to tranquilise him because it teaches them nothing.

The way Wildairo (I wish I had called him Cuddles now) acted I think Jeff thought we hadn't spent any time with him. He said we should just work with him a bit more and pick his feet up. I told him he lets Brad pick his feet up. Brad picked his feet up last night while Wildairo stood there with no one holding him. I concluded he just needs to get used to strangers. Jeff had other appointments and said he'd come back when Brad was there and they'd work on him some more.

If someone from the BLM came out to see him they would come to the conclusion we'd put him in a corral and hadn't touched him since. My gosh, what if he needed the vet? It doesn't matter how well be behaves for us because he will never trust strangers near him at this rate. Help! I need words of wisdom right now. I have never ran into this situation.

On a brighter note, Wildairo looked so very pretty when he was on high alert with his neck arched and his eyes big. He didn't try to strike out at anyone and once, when he took off in a blind panic, he carefully dodged past William and swerved to avoid knocking me over. He's a good boy he was just very frightened of the farrier. At least I don't have to worry about somebody stealing him, especially men in chaps armed with rasps.

Wildairo puts up with me.

Adoption update;

I haven't heard from the BLM yet and I have no idea when #7915 is coming up here. Having extra time is good because the corral improvement turned into a big project. We took out the old wooden fence posts and put in sturdy ones made from old irrigation main line. I sent a halter and lead rope down to the Burns corrals for our new boy. I'm not sure about him wearing the lead rope for a 357 mile trip but I sent it anyway and I'll let them decide.



I got Wildairo a big bucket for his hay and salt lick. What I really like about these wild horses is everything is so new to them. When I put the bucket over the fence his reaction was so comical. In his usual fashion he stood his ground, but his ground was some distance from the bucket and he stretched out his neck and nose to sniff it. I dropped baby carrots in the bucket and the sound concerned him but not as much as those carrots going uneaten. He had to put his head right in the bucket to get them and was ready for that bucket to give him trouble but decided the carrots were worth it. Now the big bucket had become his most cherished possession.

Wildairo's feet are way past needing a trim. I've been very worried about the farrier being able to pick his feet up. I have picked them up and when he pulls away I can't continue to hold on to them because I'm doing good just to be able to keep my own balance. I had Brad pick his feet up while I sweet talked him and fed him carrots. He wasn't happy about it but he didn't get silly. Tomorrow our local farrier is going to trim Wildairo's feet and I'm so worried. I've always prided myself on having well behaved horses and I have no idea what Wildairo will do when a strange man approaches him and tries to grab his legs. I shall give the farrier carrots and apples to feed him because I have noticed Wildairo doesn't care who he takes treats from. Here's a picture of me 'catching' Wildairo to put his halter on. He had his head down eating, ignoring me, all I did was crunch on a carrot and he was mine.



I tied a big rag onto my whip and tortured Wildairo with it. The first time I put it on his back he gave a little tiny buck but didn't pull away too hard. A slight tug and he could get away from me so I think the 'Be Nice' halter works well. He thought a mountain lion might have been trying to jump on his back and to confirm his suspicion of cats being about, our cat Muffin walked along the top of the corral fence. I let him go so he could investigate but she ran off when she saw him coming.

Here are some pictures of Wildairo having a rag waved about him.











Final humiliation.


Followed by a good scratching.

Lazy hazy days of summer.

These pictures were taken when the cows were in for water and to chew their cud. It's hazy with smoke from distant wildfires.



I started my own 'type' of cattle about 20 years ago. I call them Smokeys. If they are born a solid smoke color with not a spot of white, they always grow horns. If they are born with some white they are always hornless or 'polled'. The Smokeys have proven to be very healthy and wean very big calves. One draw back is they are also very intelligent and quickly figure out how to get to greener pastures. But I think the biggest difference in the Smokeys is their more friendly dispositions than Charolais.

Here they are licking up some glycerin and molasses. The glycerin is a by product of my husbands biodiesel business. We have fueled our pick-up and our cows thanks to biodiesel.



The cow in the picture below is called Levin. She was the first and only calf born this color. All the other cattle were white and mostly Charolais. She was almost a clone of her grandmother, our herd founder the famous #11. All Levins calves are big intelligent Smokeys. Levin was born fearless of humans which is unusual for a range cows. Her bull calf standing in front of her is a Smokey/white and polled.

The famous #11 had to be put to sleep after giving birth to her last calf in 1991. #11 had a prolapsed uterus and a dislocated hip and couldn't get up. She became so bad with arthritis it was very hard for her walk that last winter. In March she had managed to give birth and that last calf was Dandylyons who became the long suffering 'wife' of a Morgan horse.



In these pictures Foxsun had just found his old cow wife, Dandylyons hiding from him trying to have a snooze in a corral. Horses eat most of the day but cows like to spend half the day chewing their cud and day dreaming about eating again. This leads to many problems in a inter-species marriage. After 17 years they have learned to compromise. He'll let her rest and he'll have a little graze off on his own. After awhile he comes back and bites her bum to get her up on her poor old feet then cuts her from the herd and heads her out to graze. She gets less rest than the other cows but she looks very good for age, so having a personal trainer must be doing her some good. I've seen Dandylyons get frantic and leave the other cows to run mooing for Foxsun, when she's lost sight of him for too long. When Wildairo first came here he seemed a little embarressed to see such going on's. It'll be good when gets a 'normal' equine to keep him company.



William has to try to hold them back so I can take pictures.





Mean while back in the corral, Wildairo had an itch.

Hippotherapy.

Here's some pictures of my fetlock.





I had a total ankle replacement in mid-March and today I saw my surgeon for the last time (hopefully) for a year. He is very pleased with my progress. I had some complications during surgery due to my soft bones because I hadn't walked for so long. Also at 6 weeks post op I was pulling some long grass up on my knee scooter for Wildairo, when I lost my balance and put my full weight on my repaired ankle. Thankfully I only tore my Achilles. It was 12 weeks before I could start to put weight on my ankle. Sunday I climbed a hill to look for Foxsun because he wasn't with his old cow wife. He was off in the sage brush grazing and when I called him from my hill he couldn't believe his eyes. He hadn't seen me up on that hill for years and he walked right to me not taking his eyes off me once. I was so happy to have been able to walk up that hill and then back down again.

That little hill is near the spot I broke my ankle 23 years ago. May 1985 I was helping Brad and his brother bring the cattle in so the calves could be branded, get their shots and the bull calves turned in to steers. Brad's brother, Milo was driving hay truck to lead the cattle into the corrals. Brad was riding an old mare and I was riding my Morgan, Magic. We had rode through the sage brush looking for the cattle and getting them all bunched up and moving behind the hay truck. We had about 100 pairs then and 4 bulls.

All the cattle had gone through the gate and then four or five calves trotted back out. I thought if I galloped Magic straight towards the feeder I could head them off and get them turned back towards their mothers. I remember I only had one foot in the stirrup, but heck I could ride good without stirrups. I have a memory of falling backwards and thinking 'I can't land good like this'. I landed on my head knocking myself out and Magic stepped on my ankle. Thank goodness I was wearing a helmet like I always do. I remember looking up at Brad and wondering why he looked upset and then wondering why I wasn't wearing my lab coat. I thought I was at work in the local hospital's lab. I was so confused to find myself on the ground all dirty. It was days before I started to remember rounding up the cattle. I never did remember how I fell off my horse. Brad said he never bucked or spooked, he said I just fell off him!

I've had some spectacular falls from horses over the years because I used to ride like a bat out of hell. I've even had a horse flip over and land on top of me while we were jumping against the clock in mud. I have never been hurt before till the day I fell off for no reason! Oh well. I told the PA at the local hospital (where I happened to be on call that night) to make the splint small so I could get my foot back in the stirrup. I try to always look on the funny side of everything. I did in fact ride again within four weeks.

The next morning we drove to Spokane for surgery to screw my ankle back together. The doc said it was crushed like an egg shell. Over time post traumatic arthritis set in till my ankle was very painfully bone on bone and then finally wouldn't bend at all. For the last 4 years walking has been difficult and in fact impossible most of the time, even inside the house.

Lessons learned; always wearing a helmet because I think mine might have saved my life when I landed in those rocks. Also, don't suffer with pain any longer than you have to because life is too short. My doctor, Dr. Craig Barrow in Spokane, gave me back the chance to live the life I love. It was hard to find a doctor willing to do a total ankle replacement on some one under 60 and then we had a fight with our insurance company for them to cover it. Dr. Barrow warned me against ever running again or lifting anything heavy. I told him about Wildairo and he was worried at first but then said if it's something I love then he would never tell me to stop doing it. He called it 'hippotherapy'. He told me to try to keep on even surfaces and to see him again in one years time.
All's well that ends well.