Whew

Second Day—Exhaustion…

Okay, so, nothing today was that hard. I mean, driving in a tractor and throwing out flakes of hay to horses isn’t that hard—especially when the friendly although slightly condescending ranch hands pull the 105lb bales onto the tractor bed that you proceed to sit on, to travel to the stalls.

Walking a colic-y horse around in a circle so she doesn’t go down and roll and die isn’t that hard. Except, apparently it sort of was because I let Donna go down and Rory had to come rescue us and help me get her back on her feet. But at least I didn’t let her roll.

Mucking out the pens that hold 112 goats (there are more than one per pen)and then cleaning some horse stalls as well isn’t that hard.

Scrubbing the green algae slime of hay, horse spit, and manure out of giant metal water pails isn’t that hard.

Filling up water pails for 90 horses (again, they share these too) isn’t that hard, either. Although, finding the valves is a little more tricky, since they’re in a sunken pit and often covered with hay that you dig through with a “wand” and use that to turn the valve on. The wands are essential, because brown recluse spiders and black widows like to hang out in there. (and yes, it only took about 2 tries til I saw the brown recluse spider skitter away over a water valve. Check ‘em out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brown_recluse_spider)

Feeding a second time for lunch, and then a third time for dinner—still not that hard.

So why, despite my long bath, am I still aching all over?

Could be the 12 hr day, with a half hour lunch break, in the 90’s + degree sun…and yikes, I totally forgot sunscreen. Hello, farmer’s tan/lobster markings…

Psh, so enough complaining. Here’s a few fun facts—
The ranch is owned by Dr. Deborah Wilson, a gynecologist surgeon with a huge private practice in Phoenix and a husband who’s the press secretary and communications director for the governor of Arizona. Basically, all their money (as directed by Dr. Wilson) goes to keeping the 100’s of animals at the ranch. Besides the 93 horses, 112 goats, there are 3 roosters (who knew roosters crowed ALL day? Not just through the early hours of sunup, which I also watched today. As a side note, that was absolutely beautiful. The sky grew gradually lighter, changing from gray to dusky orange to peach, and finally streaking with blue, while the mountains played their roles as romantic silhouettes all around)
Anyways—also one goose, and then around 80 dogs. 30 of which live in my/their house. I’m hiding in my bedroom because every time I open the door, a dog looks at me with pleading eyes, perked ears, and the most heartbreaking whines for attention. Sorry guys, I’m pooped out. And clean for the first time in 12 hours. I’ll grab you tomorrow.
I work with Deb (yup, another Deb) and Rory, a couple in their twenties, nice, down to earth, and accepting of me, the interloper, for which I’m really grateful. I figure I’ll save the people descriptions for later, since I don’t meet the infamous Cheryl til tomorrow. I have heard so much of her, and mostly she’s described as a “character.” She is apparently obsessed with the goats, the reason there are 112, and has adopted like, 7 of them for her “own.”
More about goats later. Cause for anyone else like me, have you ever seen a goat climb? How about one standing on his tipeetoes on a Dog-Igloo, just hanging out. And the fact they don’t ever get adopted back out because “Mexcians eat goats.”
Oh yeah, remember the ranch was founded because Deborah loves her animals. She’s a strict vegan. Has a bumper sticker that says “Meat: It’s what’s Rotting In Your Colon.” Oh yeah.
Thanks, Deborah, for putting off my occasional carnivorous indulgence…

Anyways, I’m about ready to go to bed. It’s like, a little past 7…
The dogs are not ready to go to bed. They are howling and barking and yipping. Good thing I’m such a good sleeper.
Heh this could be a challenge