Second Day of Work

Soo, today isn’t quite as bad. I’m just starting to crash, and it’s 7:30 already. I think this probably has less to do with my endurance (although long sleeves + more water = so much happier and less red..) and more to do with the fact a volunteer came and she got put to work mucking the stalls and cleaning water buckets…haha sucker.
No poisonous spiders today, but I did get to learn how to work the tractor…yeehaw, first thing I’ve ridden since I got here. There’s definitely no time for riding during the daily chores—apparently this happens more on the weekends when it’s relaxed, but I’m assured I’ll get to do it. (score!)

Anyways, the other main event was the vet coming. He worked on some horses’ teeth—floated them. Thank goodness I read James Herriot. I know so many terms because of him..colic, floating teeth, foundering—aka laminitis, or infection of the hoof. That happens to horses when they get too fat. Learned that one here. This guy could basically be James Herriot, but updated. He’s a big/really fat guy—when he was down on his knees sawing off a goat’s horn, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. But he’s also the nicest guy ever, and really good with the animals…so I really hope he doesn’t have a heart attack.

We had to cut off a goat’s horn, the tip cause it kept getting stuck, and then Bellatrix’s—aka Dr. Jekyll—because she’s a bitch, afraid of other goats, and has to be kept in a pen with another horse and she goes for humans as soon as they come into her stall. Anyways, it was a big deal because Cheryl came back early. She’s the ranch manager. Also, as I mentioned, obsessed with goats. So she was terribly concerned about the whole operation.

Cheryl spent the last week riding her Harley up to Albuquerque. She was heading for South Dakota but didn’t make it. She said, when she started “dreaming about Piper”—one of the goats she adopted—“she knew she had to come back.” That and it was cold up there. She’s short, maybe 5’4”, and squat, with tattoos up her arms. She had on a pink Harley baseball cap, a Pike’s Peak Harley shirt she’d gotten on her trip (didn’t climb Pike’s Peak, she’s terrified of heights) and a big chain keeping her wallet in place. And she was so much nicer than I thought she’d be, considering the stories. Really nice. And also crazy. Went around and greeted each of the 112 goats individually. Her “babies” she called them. She’s keeping the horn pieces taken from the goats.

Aggh, there goes the dog again. There’s one who barks all day, starting at 4:45am. At least I don’t need a real alarm. Last night I fell asleep to them all, wonder if I can tonight?