Coyote Soup

Bringing life back to the family ranch with three young free range braves and lots of organic elbow grease.

A Dent in my Car October 3, 2012

Filed under: Musings — Piper Long @ 8:52 am
Tags: , , , ,

There’s a dent in my car,
It twasn’t my fault.
Tis the spot where my horse’s hiney
came to a halt.
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He was minding his own,
eating feed from the truck,
When he was startled by someone,
Who spoiled his luck.

Cause when a horse finds some feed,
it is fortunate you see…
Cause bicycle seats
aren’t quite as tasty.

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Tis a good thing I saw this
after the fact,
the horse pen was built
to hold me back.

Through the gate

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Hungry Horse September 13, 2012

Filed under: Country Life,horses,Musings,Uncategorized — Piper Long @ 6:36 am
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So, earlier this year, January 10th to be exact, I resolved to start keeping my animals in pens.

Funny thing is, that didn’t happen.

But I did try.

The horses were contained for a few weeks by an electric fence. Then they got word that I was serving half eaten apples on my windowsill and they busted out.

I’m not sure who told them.

Maybe the cats told them.

Or maybe the kids are to blame.

Hungry Horse

I don’t know why homes aren’t built with windowsills like this anymore. They remind me of the walk up window at the Tastee Freeze which my family has owned for generations. I remember as a child having full access to all of the delectable ice cream flavors, toppings and soda varieties imaginable, mixing them all into an insanely delicious concoction edible only to children under no supervision and having my cousin serve said delicacies to me through the walk up window. Then she’d charge me, but I’d have no money and be forced to work the window to pay my debts.

But I didn’t really mind.

I can see why they had these windowsills back in the olden days. They really are a lot of fun. You can serve your cats, your horses, your locked-out children.

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The locked-out children climb up on the windowsill, sweaty from a recent football/wrestling match that had to be taken outside.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Mom?”

I can hear the tapping because the children have been locked out.

“Yes?”

“Can we have a drink?”

“You got any money?”

“No.”

“Well then you can have water. Water’s free.”

I love walk-up windows!

 

The Mystery of the Braided Horse Tail March 9, 2011

Filed under: Country Life,Uncategorized — Piper Long @ 11:47 pm
Tags: , ,

This morning was one of those mornings when I got out of bed and pretty much hit the ground running. Funny thing is that it wasn’t planned that way.

I actually woke up on the edge of my bed, miserably sore from the company of two little boys nestled in my queen sized bed, wedged between me and my husband. It was only when I went to get some Tylenol that I realized, we’d overslept!

Time to kick it in high gear!

“Everybody Up!” I hollered.

Then I cracked a dozen eggs in a pan of butter, threw some clothes on myself and my two school aged boys, and grabbed a blanket to wrap around my still sleeping four-year-old as we headed out the door.

Just as I stepped my foot out the door, my sleepy little Goldilocks spoke his first words of the day, “Momma. Da horses is out of they’s pen.”

“What?” I asked.

“Da horses.” He said, in his sleepy little voice, “they’s out. Wook.”

Glancing behind my back I saw our two horses nibbling on the green grass around the barn.

“Sure enough. I’ll put them up when we get back.” I said.

When we got back to the farm I decided to feed and cloth my little horse wrangler before tackling the day’s chores which now included corralling two horses.

Once my little cowboy was ready, we headed out to care for the animals.

First, I had to get rid of the mob of hungry chickens at my feet. So I threw out some scratch – much to their satisfaction. About that time, the horses began trotting over to join in on the all you can eat buffet. But they were met with a disappointing menu of measly seed. With nothing better to do, they decided to nose around in the chicken house instead.

That’s when I noticed something different about cattle. (Cattle the horse, not to be confused with cattle the cows.) He looked kinda… pretty. Then I realized something very different about Cattle’s hair.

Cattle had a braid…. on his tail. And several ponytails tied up with colorful ponytail holders on his mane.

I don’t own any colorful ponytail holders. Mine are all black.

And I didn’t braid his tail.

Not only am I the only female on the farm, but I’m the only human on the farm that knows how to braid.

There were so many questions going through my mind.

How did your hair get braided? Did one of the other animals do it? Elves? Where have you been? And if you’ve been somewhere, why did you come back? And even if you went somewhere overnight, who would braid it in the dark? Are you seeing other farmers? Is this some sort of sign? Do you want me to paint your hoofs?

I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to call my husband and see if he had any answers for me.

Thankfully, he picked up after a few short rings.

“Honey? Did you ah….. did you happen to fix Cattle’s hair this morning before you left for the ranch?” I asked.

*silence* “Did I what?” he asked.

“Cattle’s tail is braided. Did you braid it?” I asked.

*silence* “No,” he replied.

“Do you know who would have braided it?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Is there any chance the farrier braided it the other day when you were helping him?” I asked.

“No,” he replied.

I could tell this conversation was getting me nowhere, so I disconnected and decided to leave it at that.

Maybe it was my sister. Maybe since I don’t have a doorbell for ding-dong ditching, they did a drive by braiding. But yet again, I was met with a dead end.

When I picked my kids up from the bus stop, I asked them if any of them had braided Cattle’s tail.

“What’s a braid?” they asked in unison.

Pretty sure the answer is no.

So for now, The Mystery of the Braided Horse Tail remains unsolved.

But the case will remain open until further notice. If you or someone you know has any information as to the identity of the equine stylist, please let me know.

Barefoot Indian

 

 
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