Another blog I enjoy from time to time-and this post was just gorgeous.
“It’s Feel Good Sunday and time to lift ourselves up in preparation for another week of intensive warfare, be it fighting to survive on the job, struggling for ways to keep horses and b…
Source: Feel Good Sunday: “Just Like Them Horses”
My grandpa drove a black pickup-step side with the old style pins and chains on the tail gate to lock it closed, hold it flat, or allow it to drop all the way down. As far as I was concerned, it was a Rolls Royce Silver Phantom.
From the time I walked well, I was trying to get out the screen door to go next door to be with my ‘Paw Paw’. Of course, my mother had her hands full with my younger sister who was a fretful, demanding, high maintenance baby. We lived on a dirt road on the opposite side of a field planted with corn. My mom’s parents lived in an old house (the front rooms had beams that were hand hewn and held together with wooden pegs). It had been added onto over the years-nothing fancy, but comfortable.
My Paw Paw, daddy, and some other man built our house. The land was a gift from my grandparents. The oaks must have seen Gen. Sherman’s armies go through. They towered over us and produced huge piles of leaves and amazing amounts of acorns. The shade was so dense we rarely got wet during a shower and the temperature would drop at least 5-8 degrees from the road to under the trees.
I do not know how old I was, but one day a pickup pulled up at my Paw Paw’s with a stake bed on the back and a white mule looking over the top. (Perfectly acceptable practice in the country back then-and still is in some places.) That was Becky-she had been purchased to plow the garden but also because it was said she would ride. I must have been asking about doing that-I know I pestered anyone and everyone about riding the mechanical horse at the convenience store.
From somewhere came a small saddle covered in red and green vinyl. I know he made stirrups for it out of a block of wood and some belting. I don’t believe the thing ever fit either Becky or us girls because I don’t remember using it. I do remember riding Becky in from the field after he finished plowing-he’d reach down after unhooking the traces and throw me up behind the hames to sit on the back band. I thought I was riding a unicorn or a winged steed.
Somewhere there’s a photo of me and my sister on Becky being led by Paw Paw. I knew she was a big girl. Didn’t realize how big until I saw the photo. Paw Paw was about 6’2″ and Becky’s withers are somewhere around his ears. That would have put that mule in the neighborhood of 16-3 to 17 hands. Big girl.
Paw Paw promised me that Becky would be mine one day. Then he died when I was eight and she was sold. I stayed mad for the next four years.
This seems to be out of fashion these days-which is why I seem to be totally out of sync with the rest of the world-or at least at good bit of what I see on the news and internet. It’s very much the sentiment that you see expressed on the T-shirts saying “The more I see of people, the more I love my_____”. Fill in the blank with the animal of your choice.
The rationale is actually pretty simple-people tend to have agendas and act pretty crappy towards each other. One of the leading political candidates has a book out that tells people to ‘f__’ over the other guy before he gets the chance to ‘f___’ over you-and he is lauded for that view point. I can’t stand it-and won’t stand for it. It is diametrically opposed to what I was raised to believe that the Bible said-“Do to others what you want them to do to you”. It doesn’t say be nice only if you like them, only if they are the same political party, only if they come from the same geographical piece of land mass, only if they speak the same language, only if their skin looks similar to mine, or even if they happen to worship the same way I choose to. It does not have any options. It says “Do to others as you want others to do to you. “. That’s pretty simple, really, and damn clear.
So why do so many people want to put their own exceptions on it? Hell if I know.
Yeshua only had two commandments for us to follow-not ten. #1 You will love the Lord God with all your heart and soul. #2 You will love you neighbor as much or more than you do yourself.
So how in the name of all that is holy can people do what they do to other people, women, children, animals-and still say that they are believers? You do not treat other people as garbage, you respect their dignity, you treat their wounds, feed their bodies, and shelter them when necessary. If you do not understand their culture-then you make the effort to learn about it. You extend kindness. You show compassion.
Because to do anything otherwise-is less than being human.
I will just list them.
- When properly registered, a microchip is the unique and unalterable link to the owner of the animal. That should be self-explanatory.
- Health records are easier to track for vets-this is critical for pre-purchase or breeding exams.
- Health certificates can be linked to the chips for shipping, showing, racing, and/or sales.
- Registrations of foals at or close to birth, especially coupled with DNA testing, virtually eliminates doubt of identity of parentage even when born to surrogate mares.
- Ownership of horses can be easily traced because a ‘passport’ unique to each horse would follow it from birth to the grave.
The downside? So far-quite honestly, I haven’t found one.
Now I will say-for a couple of my horses, it did make their necks sore for a couple of days. BUT-l will also say this-they were also horses that did not put their heads down that much. The ones that did, didn’t have any problems. I think it was the repetitive stretching down to graze and eat that took the soreness out. Just for whatever it’s worth to you.
Questions? Ask me. Or go to Stolen Horse International and look under the tab for Services. There’s a link for Equine Identification.
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See that little bitty brown thing? That’s a microchip. They do NOT have the ability to be tracked from outer space. Whoever is spreading that rumor around is wearing a tin foil hat and living in rooms lined in tin foil. The reason is quite simple. In order to transmit a signal up to a satellite, it would have to have a power source. Any power source with enough juice to do that would currently be the size of a small loaf of bread. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see anybody implanting a small loaf of bread into anything-especially when you figure you’d have to redo it every 12-24 months. Yikes.
So we have this thing which just sits there and does absolutely NOTHING until a scanner comes along and hits it with a signal asking for the encoded number. Then it responds with the number-and that’s all it does. You can’t change the number. You can’t do anything to make it do anything else. It just sits there.
Why microchip? If all the thing does is give a number, then big hairy whoop, right? Wrong. See-each microchip is unique-and I use that word correctly. There is only ONE NUMBER PER CHIP ever. It is analogus to getting a registration number for your horse, dog, cat, iguana, or whatever-even your saddle or bridle. You know those Vehicle Identification Numbers on your car, truck, horse trailer? Same idea. You microchip your horse and then register your name and information along with your horse’s information. Bingo! Everything is linked.
Now here’s the thing-you need to put that number on everything related to your horse. Coggins paperwork, breed registration, health certificates, show paperwork–everything and anything related to your horse. Why? Because if something happens to your horse or if you have to take that horse out of the country and prove ownership, guess what? Right again-when you scan that chip, the number will match all of the paperwork and it will come back to you.
And, God forbid, if the horse is stolen-law enforcement will LOVE you having a microchip registry certificate and a microchip scanner. It won’t matter that somebody else is standing there with a forged bill of sale. You’ll have proof the horse is really yours. NetPosse Store $40 is cheap insurance. Sign up for the NIP Registry, too.
Nobody believes in the word ‘disaster’. It isn’t real. It is that thing that happens to somebody else. It never happens to me. Except it does. Sometimes it is just little disasters-a flat tire when we are in a hurry, a broken pipe when it freezes, a clogged toilet (particularly when company is there), but there are also the big ones-a car accident, a house fire, the death of family members, loss of jobs.
It’s tough to plan for everything. So we don’t. It’s easier not to. Except that doesn’t work-and the results REALLY suck.
Now I realize that it takes effort, but, like most things, the front end effort makes the back end worthwhile. This is a terrific article that has some wonderful ideas on exactly what you need in your arsenal of ‘tricks’ to come out on the other side in as good shape as possible.
Personal disaster tips
One minute disaster tips
FREE listings for LOST or FOUND animals
It’s work-I won’t lie to you. But it beats the expense and heartache of losing what you have if you don’t. Just make a list and get it done.