Notes from Maine - 2025/09/21
Twenty-five percent of the hay is in the loft. I usually throw it all up on the same day, but Gary showed up with one load and said that he was almost out. He will have to come back with three more loads when he can. As long as I get it up there before the snow flies, it’s all good. With the giant horse family I share my time with now, there will never be enough hay in the loft to actually make it through the winter. Last year I was still over at the feed store every week, picking up more. The hay in the loft just helps cover shortages or when fetching more is inconvenient because of storms.
They don’t have any “second cut” hay this year, Gary says. We haven’t had the rain for it. In a few months it might be difficult to track down any hay. Gary is good at tracking down other sources, but the hay in the loft will carry us through temporary issues.
Throwing the hay, I wore long sleeves, gloves, and jeans. It’s better to sweat for a couple of hours than have itchy scratches for a couple of days. No matter what I do, I’ll have a stuffy nose for 48 hours. That’s just a given. I never had any allergies when I was a kid. Every year, I’m a little more sensitive to hay than the last. It’s a slow progression though—I think I’ll make it to the end of my horse-keeping days before I can’t go near the stuff.
I was sneezing out in the yard yesterday when my neighbor poked his head over the fence. Our other neighbor had a runaway dog and nobody could get near her. They knew where she was, but she wouldn’t come back. This dog is relatively new and is still being trained to the invisible fence. If you’re not familiar, a special collar will beep to warn the dog if it’s approaching the perimeter of the fence, and then shock the dog if it tries to cross. Some fences shock on reentry, and some don’t. Maybe the dog had become afraid of returning home? Butch went and got his granddaughter so she could retrieve the dog. It worked.
This morning, Albert (dog) disappeared for a few minutes. He never goes farther than the creek out back, but it made me wonder if something out there had called both dogs away from their homes. Maybe there’s a Dog King out in the woods, summoning disciples to his cause. Albert went to hear the Dog King’s pitch about a world without leashes and without rules about who you can and cannot jump on. I put on my shoes and walked to the fence just as Albert was coming home, carrying his frisbee. He gave me no indication of what he had been doing out beyond the fence. His feet were dry. His tail was free from burrs.
Most of the time, Albert and I don’t need fences to tell us the limit of our territory. I wonder about the horses. If a gate was left open, who would be the first to step through? Earl will hardly go anywhere without his family. He gets visibly distressed if they’re on the other side of the pasture without him. His daughter Lilly will go anywhere if there’s someone over there who will scratch her. She loves people. When I was looking for Albert this morning, Lilly was right by my side. When I whistle for Albert, Lilly will sometimes raise her little head and call too. We’re all part of her herd. I think Maybelle would be the first to step through an open gate if she suspected there might be good grass on the other side. She is the most pragmatic of the group and she loves an open door.
I put out more hay this morning. Nobody wanders if there’s hay. I have to go to the feed store soon and get more. Once I throw bales up in the loft, I don’t bring them down again until winter. It’s likely they’ll be out. From what Gary said, the load he brought was pretty much everything he had. I have other things I need to get—it won’t be a wasted trip.
Albert is nearly perfect on our trips to the feed store now. This year, I started taking him inside with me so he could learn some manners. His job is to keep his shoulder plastered to my knee and to sit whenever I come to a stop. Just about every trip, someone will stop to tell me what a good-looking dog he is. I never know what to say. I don’t feel comfortable taking compliments on his behalf. His beauty isn’t the result of anything I’ve done, and I don’t think he’s really invested in how other people perceive him. If I had to guess, I think what people are really complimenting is how he comports himself. In the store, he’s (mostly) alert, attentive, and polite. If someone gives him a treat, he’ll wait until they walk away before he spits it on the ground (he doesn’t take treats from strangers). Can you imagine someone walking up to you with a bit of “food” in their grubby hands and placing it in your mouth? I would spit it out too.
At home, Albert is less polite. It’s a tougher assignment. If I’m in the back room or the cellar, working on a project, I want him to bark loudly if someone pulls into the driveway. If I’m standing next to him and I’ve seen the visitor too, I don’t always need him to bark. He hasn’t learned the subtleties of that yet. We’re working on it.
