A Precious Mischief

Zorita's 2010 filly is just over a week old and from day two has been a very spunky gal, reminding me very much of the cavorting Pinoteia engaged in as soon as she discovered what her out-of-womb foal body could do. Only, with this new filly, there is an element of the "devil-may-care" scamp in her. Any mother who has felt the frustration of trying to contain a toddler on a tear can sympathize with Zorita's frustration in this video:

Knowing that Susan Mathia (proprietor of a lovely bed & breakfast establishment called The Queen's Inn) enjoys the occasional video clip from Ravenseyrie, I emailed her a copy of the above sequence, to which she replied: "What a precious little mischief she is!"

Of course, between the activities of the new filly and the comments of Susan, I soon was deep into my Portuguese/English dictionary and researching words which might make potential names from online translation sites as well.

Precious by itself did not convey the imp quality to this emerging personality of the new filly, but "mischief" certainly did. There were many offerings, one of which came back with "maliciosa" meaning "playfully mischievous". "Perfect!" I thought. That evening, I sat near her, on a log that she was sampling with her tongue. "Hello, Maliciosa." No response. "Filly, would you like to have the name, Maliciosa?" Without altering her position, or ceasing to lick the log, she gave me a dubious sidelong look. "You do not care for the name, Maliciosa?" Zorita's new filly, walked away, without a backward glance in my direction. I would take that as a pretty distinct, "no", wouldn't you?

Some of the other suggestions provided by dictionaries which in one way or another defined impish/scampish behavior were: moleque, diabrura, pressa, and levada. The only one that had a direct connection with "mischief" was "levada" which is another adjective meaning "mischievous". I presented it to the new filly this morning and when I spoke it, she immediately pricked her ears and looked straight at me, almost with a look of, "Well, finally, you've found it!"

Here is a video clip of Tocara (my hasn't she grown lovely!) attempting to make friends with Levada. For her part, Levada is making it plain that she's not easily won over. A very similar scene (near the end of this blog entry) was presented to me when last year Silvestre was hoping to befriend Levada's full sister, Segura. How marvelous that even very new foals have such a sense of self!

Zorita has come into her foal heat and this has Altamiro enforcing a wider "buffer zone" between the family band and Mistral's group. I took a short (but poor quality) video clip during a "conversation" Altamiro was having with Jerry, as the Sorraia stallion defended his territory. The conversation looked something like you see below (from a combination of still scenes extracted from the video and one photo):







The conversation was ardent, but brief and essentially non-violent.

Here are a few photos taken during one of Levada's mad dashes which she engages in for the sheer joy of being (and also maybe for the "precious little mischief" delight she receives in provoking her mother's ire as well.)

And lastly here are some photos of Tocara attempting to befriend Levada:

(That is Silvestre in the foreground)

(I apologize to those of you who have maybe subscribed to the Journal of Ravenseyrie and today received three versions of "A Precious Mischief"...I must have hit the wrong key while working on the text, not once--but twice, which accidentally caused the entry to be published before it was ready.)

And not to be left out of images of the 2010 fillies, here's a quick head shot of Pinoteia:

Zorita and Altamiro's Foal Arrives

A newborn filly out of Sovina's Zorita (Sorraia x Sulphur Mustang) by Altamiro (purebred Sorraia)

When I checked in with Altamiro's family band this past Thursday morning, Zorita's udder had the telltale swollen tautness of essential nutrients at the ready. I thought she might deliver her foal later that day, or over the night. By nightfall, both Zorita's abdomen and udder were still full. Friday morning, I jumped out of bed, and while still in sleeping attire, I took the field glasses, ran outside and climbed atop the gate support to scan the western horizon where I could make out Altamiro's band in the dim light. Zorita is the lightest coloured grulla in our herd and easy to spot. When I focused the glasses upon her, I could see she had a light coloured form at her side! I went back into the house to get dressed and Kevin went out for a closer look at the new foal. By the time he got out there, the newborn was laying down, so Kev gave Zorita some alfalfa cookies and lavished praise upon her before returning to the house.

After giving the dogs their breakfast and quickly eating mine, I went out with my camera to welcome the new arrival. It was nearly half past six, the sun was up, humid, sticky air pressed heavily upon us and the flies were already an irritating presence. Most every photo I took was blurry, as the horses were constantly in motion, tossing heads and swishing tails against the invasion of the flies.


Judging by the look of the filly's navel, the cleanness of Zorita's hindquarters and the dry but not yet fluffy coat of the filly, I'd have to guess that Zorita delivered this foal sometime around 4 or 5 a. m.

Though it is extremely rare for me to travel out into the horse herds with treats in my pockets, Ms. Zorita knew that I had some for her and she walked directly up to me to claim them and receive her much deserved accolades for bringing such a fine, healthy filly into the world. I promised her I would visit with her again later in the day, and soon Altamiro directed his family off into the woods to outwit the flies.

By mid-afternoon, high winds and heavy rains came and while I was at work in the studio, admiring the vigorous dancing of the rain upon the lake, I worried a bit about how the new filly was handling such a torrent of chilly moisture so soon in her outside-the-womb existence. I thought about how most traditional breeding operations typically keep the mare and foal indoors in a comfortable stall for two to four days before turning them outside in a controlled setting. I wished to be up on the bluff, to see where Zorita and the baby were during this storm and I imagined them deep into the woods, protected from the worst of the elemental pummeling. I wondered if Zorita was missing the comfort of a barn, like she had with her first two foals, and for the rest of the afternoon, I was feeling a little strange--weighing the benefits of a snug barn against the tempering and nurturing that is so indiscriminately part of life in the wilderness.

Shortly before daylight was due to fade from the landscape, Altamiro brought his family up to the house for display and let them linger around here for about an hour and a half--something he hasn't allowed since he claimed his rulership over them earlier this spring. This made for some great photo opportunities, which I surely was happy to take advantage of.


The wet, cool summer we've experienced this year on the island has given the landscape a prolonged verdancy and my eyes cannot get enough of the wonderful contrasts between that lush green carpet and the lovely grulla colouring of Zorita and this fresh-washed filly.



Kevin and I are relieved and thankful to have the last foal of the year arrive in good form and to see that despite the intense wind and rain over the afternoon, both mother and baby are doing extremely well. I am also delighted to see that Zorita feels confident enough to share her filly with us--which already came up for her first touch of a human's hand.

I took some wonderful photos of the other foals and Kevin mingling with them, but will save those for a new journal entry in a few days. I cannot resist however, to insert one now, showing the fine facial features of Silvestre, Encantara and Fada--each showing that aristocratic Sorraia profile inherited from their sire, Altamiro. Such exquisite beings! They swell my heart with beautiful sensations...these horses bring such depth and wonder to our lives here at Ravenseyrie!

Entering a New Landscape

Sovina's Zorita (Sorraia x Sulphur Mustang) and Interessado (Sorraia x Kiger Mustang)

Oh, April! I thought you'd never get here!

And how grand it is that today is warm and windy and sunny - feeling very much like an early spring day. (Manitoulin Island has not had too many spring-feeling days since Spring's official arrival on the Vernal Equinox back in mid-March.) Walking around and about Ravenseyrie is now is like entering a new landscape and the marvelous sensation of the earth slowly waking up is filled with such optimism. I find myself grinning within and without as I reacquaint myself with features of the landscape that have been hidden under snow for so very long.

I had in mind on Monday (my day off) to hike down the bluff to the beach. Unfortunately, with the temperature right at freezing, the snow pack was wickedly unreliable and I fell through up to my thigh about every sixth step. It's quite something that the upper grasslands are so nearly free of snow, but the woodland realm is still deeply blanketed. (I should have thought to sling my snowshoes over my back, just in case...but, I didn't think the snow would still be so deep!) Anyhow, before the pups and I aborted such a difficult hike, I took a few photos.

Deep snow still covers the trail leading down the bluff to the shore line at Ravenseyrie

At the bottom of the first hill going down the bluff a seasonal pond has formed on the left

We'll save that hike to the beach when the snow is nearly gone and its not so laborious to walk through it. The pups and I investigated instead various trails up top and eventually wound our way back near the area where Kevin and I had hauled hay to the herd in a wind break on the southwest sector of the property. Knowing that we were about an hour away from afternoon feed time and that the herd would likely be working their way back to the house to wait for their human servants to bring out more hay, I found a fallen log to repose upon and waited with my camera at the ready for the horses to cross the landscape. The dogs dispersed here and there among the Red Osier Dogwood, digging through the snow in hopes of discovering mice nesting below.
Tobacco decided he'd take a sun break and came over to sit nearby and watch the world go by.

This photo of Tobacco has so much expressiveness in it, despite how little of him we can see. I go all soft inside when he sits like this, with one ear up and one ear down. Methinks I'd like to do a painting of him in this pose in this light...

The first herd member to begin the journey across the field to get back to the house was Doll. Being a wary and vigilant mule, she seemed to sense that she was being watched. She scanned over the area and then she spotted me sitting on my log. She must have watched me watching her for about eight minutes before moving on.

Doll (draft mule mare)

Next to pass by, without so much as a glance in my direction, were Mistral and Zeus. The sun was falling on them so nicely I had to take a close up shot as well.

Mistral and Zeus (domestic bred geldings)

Soon, more of the herd slowly made their way across my field of vision as they headed back to the house to wait for afternoon hay.

Belina (Spanish Mustang x BLM Appaloosa mustang pony)

Bella (purebred Spanish Mustang)

Animado, Interessado and Fada, three half-Sorraia yearlings traveling together

Interessado and Fada (who notices me sitting in the brush on a fallen log)

Along comes Altamiro, and being a herd stallion, he's very suspicious about what I'm up to sitting there on my log with a camera pressed to my face.

Altamiro (purebred Sorraia stallion)

Altamiro and Zorita pause, watching Ganja hunt for mice

I did take photos of the rest of the herd as they walked back to the house, but the images didn't turn out as clear as they should have, why that is I don't know--but they weren't worth saving and sharing.

The pups and I gathered ourselves up and followed the herd back to the house. I paused by Kevin's market garden, which is now fully free of snow. I looked to see if any garlic was peeking up through the mulch yet. (Not yet.) Our good garlic-loving friend, Ken, in Michigan, wrote the other day saying his garlic is up! I wonder if Jean's garlic is up in Quebec yet? According to our note on last year's calendar, the Ravenseyrie garlic pushed through the mulch on April 17th. The seasonal birds have been coming back a week early this year, so I'm going to wager that our garlic will be up on the tenth this year.

Last night the temperature stayed above freezing and we had heavy rains falling until this morning, altering the landscape even more. Of course, yours truly had to document these changes with her camera--and of course, there are horses in the photos!

Animado (Sorraia x Spanish Mustang) with his sire, Altamiro

Interessado (Sorraia x Kiger Mustang) and his dam, Ciente

Belina (Spanish Mustang x BLM Appaloosa mustang pony)

I've mentioned it a time or two, but have yet to deliver (probably because I'm rather ignorant on the subject) but tomorrow, I promise to write a journal entry discussing the results of the color testing the Veterinary Genetics Laboratory at the University of California, Davis did on Altamiro and his offspring. In the meantime, I hope you've enjoyed seeing in pictures some of the early spring changes in the Ravenseyrie landscape.

Wintering Well

Sovina's Zorita, feeling good on a sunny afternoon with the temperature reading -2°F

Sovina's Zorita, the Sorraia/Sulphur Mustang cross mare who came to live with us last September is wintering well here at Ravenseyrie, despite our persistent deep freeze temperatures of the past week (getting as low as -37°F one morning!).

Prior to her Canadian immigration, Zorita lived her life in the more temperate regions of Oregon and her former owner, Bonnie, has been worried that the harshness of this island winter might be too much for Zorita to cope with. I took a series of photos during yesterday's late afternoon hay meal, which I hope will allay Bonnie's concerns. Zorita has adapted splendidly, which doesn't surprise me at all, given her genetic make up predisposes her to thriving even in harsh environments.


This is our fourth winter here on Manitoulin Island and keeping horses in a semi-wild setting up on a rugged, windswept bluff, has been as educational as it has been challenging. To read most of the literature discussing how to keep horses in winter, one realizes how far removed from the natural world most horses' situations are. It has become apparent to me that the vast majority of information provided on winter horse maintenance is designed for the convenience of humans and the whims of usage they subject their horses to, as well as being heavily influenced by our own culturally shaped aversion to the cold. From this, an entire industry of stabling supplies and horse clothing has evolved over hundreds of years, with the modern horse being outfitted "against the cold" in ever more highly technological ways.

"Against the cold" is a phrase that strikes me as worthy of our contemplation.

We know that exposure to cold can be a thing that is life draining when ill-outfitted and poorly prepared. What we don't realize in these modern times is that the technology which has liberated us from the potential harm of the cold, leaves us poorly outfitted and ill-prepared when the infrastructure of technology malfunctions. We have become totally dependent on expensive living arrangements which keep us at a medium range of acceptable temperatures we consider necessary for our comfort. I think of us now as being much more vulnerable to the vicissitudes of the weather than our pre-industrial ancestors were with their warm fires and animal skins. We have separated and isolated ourselves from Nature, whereas our ancestors lived "with" the rhythms of Nature in ways that provided them simple means of shelter and sustenance.

Zeus, a thin-skinned, hot-blooded Thoroughbred has adapted marvelously well to our Canadian winters. Shown here nibbling afternoon hay with five month old, Interessado.

We have been conditioned to believe that early humans spent every waking moment quaking in fear of impending death from predators and harsh environmental conditions while constantly concerning themselves about their next meal. We imagine this is the same situation for animals living in the wild. Many humans go as far as to say that Nature is flawed and ours is an unending struggle against a hostile world, whether one is a city dweller or a rural landowner. My observations here at Ravenseyrie of our equine herd as well as the natural fauna we share this environment with suggest to me that it is our cultural conditioning that is flawed not Nature. If there are troubles in Nature, it is more likely an imbalance caused by the actions of humans. And aren't we modern humans toiling madly for our livelihoods, stressed by financial concerns, living in fear of terrorist attacks and constantly complaining that we never have enough time to do the things we most desire to do--the very things we thought our modern lifestyles liberated us from?

Eight month old, Fada

Because we have become intolerant of the cold, we feel that all life dwelling out in the cold suffers. If this were so, how is it possible that so many living things not only survive winter, but depend upon it for survival? Some plants and creatures will only thrive in climates where harsh winter seasons are part of the yearly cycle. The glorious equine evolved in such climates--how could we imagine that horses cannot find some enjoyment out of winter conditions?

Some days are stressful for creatures living in the wilderness, but we should also keep in mind that even as much as we insulate ourselves from the harshness of nature, we find ourselves experiencing stressful times and times of suffering and handle it not nearly so gracefully as do our wilderness animals. I've come to appreciate that struggling a bit from time to time (like those strenuous hauls to bring hay out to the horses in the forest) is much healthier than remaining slumped in an easy chair watching television. I've no doubt it is the same for the animals. The easy life is not necessarily the best life overall.

Years ago, when I was showing dressage with Mistral, I spared no expense for his comfort and was convinced he had the best possible care I could provide. A blanketed horse locked in a stable, knee-deep in fragrant wood shavings, shielded from the weather, with a belly full of rich alfalfa hay and sweetened grains and a warmed bucket of water always available tends to give us humans a sense of comfort...our beloved equines then share some of our luxuriant living and we need not feel guilty as we rush back into our overly heated homes.

Years have passed and I've come to realize that such a comfortable situation comes with a price, however, as our best intentions to provide our horse with an environment that insulates him from the weather are at the expense of our horse's autonomy and ability to regulate his own situation. If the temperature rises overnight and he becomes too warm he remains trapped in his blanket and stable until the human comes out to help him out of his discomfort. Likewise such comforts are proven now to be responsible for a long list of troubles stabled horses suffer: hoof disorders, allergies, digestive ailments and under-appreciated mental disturbances, just to name a few.

Animado, Fada and Interessado, enjoying late afternoon hay.

Horses that are allowed to live "with" the rhythms of Nature develop exceptional thermal regulatory capacities allowing them to cope with the changeable weather and extremes in temperatures (actually handling cold better than heat). When provided a truly natural environment which contains variations in the landscape, wooded areas, higher and lower ground, etc., horses are constantly flowing with the mood of the day, choosing for themselves the best location to be depending on weather conditions. I can tell you from experience that there is a huge difference in the feeling of blizzard conditions inside a man-made, wood-sided structure versus the sensation one experiences when walking in the middle of a Cedar forest or even in the open but down the slope of the bluff.

Mistral is definitely lost in the moment and savoring his hay meal.

It continues to be a wondrous thing watching the way the horses and mules and wilderness creatures adapt themselves to whatever the day's weather might be, and I find myself more and more emulating their graceful behavior and sharing in their capacity to find comfort where they find it. I'm learning from them that winter is best experienced by being in the moment and acting accordingly.

An erudite Japanese fellow, Masanobu Fukuoka sums it up in this way, "What I am talking about here definitely is not a return to the past. I suppose one could call it a return to the present. It involves neither attachment to the past nor expectations for the future, but simply living in the nature of the today. All that is required is that we surrender ourselves to the current of nature."

Totally in the moment, the next morning the horses nap contentedly, with the sun on their faces and the temperature a balmy 11°F on the thermometer. Gracefully, they live in "the nature of today".