A little bit of peace on earth

 The sun comes up on another day during the pandemic.

 It's peaceful and calm and the gang is all here, if only in spirit 

(that's Smooch's resting place under the rocks in the background).

 Look closely and you'll see Alex way back there at the gate.

We're getting a bit desperate for rain, but the yucca is in bloom...

...and the yard is looking pretty good.

This is the first visitor we've had in months. 

He was on his way to steal swallow eggs from a nest

but met the snake pole instead and was relocated far, far away.

Alex and I ran into this guy yesterday on our morning walk. 

Aren't you glad I started blogging again?

I'll end this on a better note. 

My bedroom has inadvertently turned into the Rug Room.

A girl can never have too many Navajo rugs, and I recently acquired my third.

The Navajo nation is being hit extraordinarily hard by the coronavirus.

In looking for ways to help, I came across a non-profit organization called 

Adopt A Native Elder.

There are many ways to donate to their efforts, but I went straight to the rug catalog.

100% of the proceeds from a rug purchase go directly to the weaver.

I could think of no better way to use my stimulus check.

The one where Smooch gets bitten by a rattlesnake

Spoiler alert: This story has a happy ending.

It was a dark and steamy night and we were getting ready for bed. I turned on the porch light and opened the sunroom door to let Smooch and Alex outside for the last time. They exited together, Smooch on the right, Alex on the left. Less than a split second later, we all heard the rattling start. M-fin' snake was right there, coiled up on the cold concrete pavers next to my shoe. We had woken him up and he was pissed.

Smooch and Alex began barking frantically, and the snake's rattling was ceaseless and absurdly loud. My brain was yelling at me to stay calm, but that signal didn't reach my mouth. Total pandemonium ensued. I was screaming and trying to catch the dogs, the snake wouldn't shut up, Smooch was running around sniffing sniffing sniffing and not paying the least bit of attention to my pleas to come, nor was Alex. 

Smooch would run a lap, then run over to the snake, Alex would follow her, and I kept running out of my flipflops trying to catch them. After what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably two, I finally caught Alex, picked her up and held her in a death grip against my hip while I put Smooch in a head lock. We were all in a pile at the opposite corner of the yard from the snake and, I kid you not, I screamed out loud "we need a plan!" a half dozen times. 

Then Smooch got loose, I threw Alex into the sunroom steering clear of the snake, then re-caught Smooch and carried her into the house via the pitch-dark driveway and backyard, where I was certain the snake's friends were waiting to bite off my toes.

Whew. The dogs were now safe and I just had to catch the snake, which turned out to be easy because he was still in the same place. This all happened last Wednesday night, by the way, starting around 9:15.

With the snake trapped in a tightly lidded trash can in the garage, I was back in the house by 9:30. I found Smooch sitting on the bed in the guest room and noticed a small drop of blood on the right side of her face. Crap crap crap crap crap. She had been bitten. Strangely, I wasn't freaking out. I was thinking, "It's okay, she's current on her snakebite vaccine, everything will be fine." 

I called the local emergency vet clinic, rather calmly explained that my dog had been bitten by a rattlesnake but she had been vaccinated, and asked what I should do. The person said they were out of anti-venin so I would have to go to the emergency clinic in Albuquerque. 

As I was dialing that number, I'm thinking, "Anti-venin? Why? She's been vaccinated." So I explain my story again and the person immediately gives me directions to the clinic and I'm like, "but it will be the middle of the night by the time I get there and she's been vaccinated, can't we just wait until morning and go to our regular vet?" The answer was an emphatic NO, so off we all went to Albuquerque. 

I had plenty of time on the way there to try to figure out what had just happened. For all 13.5 years of her life, Smooch has been very snake-smart, keeping a respectful distance as she would bark at them to alert me. I concluded she must have been bitten the moment the snake saw her. She didn't react to the bite in any noticeable way, but all the running back to the snake over and over again was either because: a) she was pissed off and wanted to bite him back or b) she was trying to protect me and Alex.

It was a quiet night in the ER and Smooch was taken to the treatment area within minutes of our arrival.

Alex and I waited patiently, passing the time by texting Danni, who was researching the snakebite vaccine and helping me figure out what to expect. All these years I had been living under the very false sense of security that, when vaccinated, a dog would survive a snakebite, the symptoms would be less severe, and it would be no big deal. I was right on the first two counts, but it was indeed a very big deal. I was about to learn that Smooch would be receiving a vial of anti-venin, she would need to be hospitalized, and there was mention of cardiac arrhythmias, ghastly infection, necrosis of the skin...I stopped listening after that.

Alex and I said goodnight to Smooch, as she drooled in her temporary accommodations. The vets would give her a vial of anti-venin as soon as it defrosted and call me in the morning...or sooner as need be.

When the call came Thursday morning, it was good news mostly. The swelling on her face had gone down, but they had found puncture wounds from another bite on her lower left leg. There was no swelling and it wasn't painful, so that one was likely a dry bite. She wasn't eating, but her mouth was bruised on the inside, so it made sense. 

This is getting boring so I'll fast forward to Friday morning after Smooch came home.

A cone was necessary so that she couldn't scratch her face with her paw.

 Smooch was sent home with plenty of drugs.

She rested semi-comfortably for the first 12 hours, then finally found her appetite and began eating with gusto, which is when I started breathing again.

 

We visited our regular vet first thing Monday morning for a recheck. She gave Smooch an excellent prognosis and gave me permission to remove the cone of shame. 

 Smooch: Can't believe that s-o-b bit my leg, too.

Meanwhile, there was still the matter of a rattlesnake in a garbage can in the garage. I was tempted to move the can into the sun and let him roast in his own juices for awhile, but I still believe in snake karma and thought better of it.

Monday night, Alex and I drove down to snake-release road.

 Five days trapped in a can didn't do much for this guy's mood.

Alex: Please be careful. I don't know how to drive this thing.

Having participated in every step of this adventure, I can only hope that Alex has learned some very valuable lessons.

Smooch assures me that she has.

In duct tape we trust

 ...because I learned my lesson after I did this:

p.s. A rattlesnake did not escape in the front seat, but a bullsnake did escape from the same can 

when it was in the garage awaiting relocation, despite the alleged locking lid.

Live and learn.

Take your rattlesnake to town day

You're allowed one guess as to what is inside the trashcan.

If you need a hint, refer back to the title of this post.

This blog has been devoid of rattlesnake stories this year.

That is not because there haven't been any.

I just decided I wasn't going to creep you all out with 

a never-ending stream of snake-roping pictures and videos.

Because that is what it has come down to...an effin' never-ending stream.

 Rattlesnake #1

It started on Easter-eve. Smooch and I had just 

walked out the backyard gate for our evening constitutional.

Both of us heard the rattle at the same time. 

Our heads turned in unison toward the sound.

There he was, all coiled up, 6 inches away from my right heel.

Smooch was on her leash, a half step behind me. 

You know that feeling when time stands still 

and you see everything in slow motion? 

That's what happened.

Frame by frame, we watched the snake's tongue come out.

He uncoiled and struck out, and he missed both of us –

probably because we jumped a few feet in the air at just the right time.

Silly snake had recently come out of hibernation and was still sleepy, 

which is why he didn’t rattle until we were already upon him. 

I eventually got him roped and put the snake box in the truck bed,

to release him far, far away on my next trip to town.

Except I forgot he was there and ran errands all day

with a rattlesnake in a box in the back of my truck.

Beware the thief who ever tries to rip me off.

Rattlesnake #2a and #2b

Moving on to the weekend before last.

I went into the garage to find my sunglasses. 

As I got close to the workbench, I heard rattling.

"That can't be rattling," I thought. "I'm in the garage. 

There aren't rattlesnakes in my garage."

Wrong. 

There he was, with his head and tail stuck under the door 

on the inside of the garage and his body stuck on the other side. 

How does that happen?!

He proved very difficult to rope with the snake pole, 

and by the time I caught him, I was so mad that I left the box 

in the driveway to deal with later, after we’d both had a chance to calm down. 

But when I went out to drive him down the road, he wasn’t in the box. 

Apparently he escaped through a small hole near the lid. 

(Insert string of expletives here.) 

 

A few hours later, I walked onto the front porch and there he was, 

all coiled up in the corner, rattling. So I roped him again, 

this time putting him in a garbage can with a locking lid, 

and drove him far, far away. 

 Rattlesnake #3

It was last Thursday night. I was sitting in the living room with Smooch, 

watching tv because it was 95 effin' degrees outside and who needs that? 

I decided to paint my toenails because ... who knows why.

So now my toes are a pretty blue and Smooch is in the guest room 

and starts barking her head off. My toes are wet and I’m shoeless,

but I hobble over to see what she’s barking at. 

Effin' rattlesnake, moseying along the concrete 

at the base of the garage wall. 

Then came the moral dilemma: 

Do I put shoes on, ruin my pretty blue toes and go rope the snake? 

Or do I preserve the pedicure and ignore the snake, 

potentially putting Smooch’s life in jeopardy the next time she has to pee? 

That took about a nanosecond to decide. 

I roped the snake, put it in the can with the locking lid,

and strapped it into the front seat of the truck,

to be released on my next trip to town.

 

The sound of the universe laughing

Saturday encore ~ Care to join me for a little rattlesnake wrangling?

This post is from July 29, 2015. The snake population this year seems to have diminished – 

I've only had to relocate one rattlesnake so far, and it was a non-blog-worthy event. 

Let's hope it stays that way. 

(Can you hear the universe laughing, now that I've said that out loud? What an idiot.) 

 ***

It was around 7 o'clock Tuesday morning. I had been in the barn tending to the herd

since 6:30. George walked over to the end stall to poop, 

then planted himself next to the back door to take a nap. 

I fetched the wheelbarrow and moved into the stall to clean up his mess.

That's when I saw the rattlesnake for the first time. He was all coiled up like a cinnamon roll,

basking in the morning sun, not two inches away from George's left front hoof.

George was oblivious, the snake was oblivious, and I was incredulous.

I asked George to walk toward me and he wouldn't.

I pulled on his grazing muzzle to lead him toward me, but that wasn't happening either.

Meanwhile, the snake stayed all coiled up without a care in the world.

Finally, I lured George away with a cookie.

The snake slithered between the stall wall and the wire kick-panel.

I closed doors and gates to keep everybody out of the stall, then ran like hell to the garage

to fetch the snake pole, with a brief stop to pick up the GoPro because:
a) what's the point of having a head-cam if you're not going to use it at a moment like this?
and b) I knew some of you would want to come along for the adventure.

Rattlesnake relocations are like snowflakes

Another rattlesnake roundup

The one where Hank gets bit by a snake

Spoiler alert: As I post this Friday evening at 5 p.m., Hank is doing well. 

Remember that as I tell the tale.

It was Thursday around 5 p.m. I walked out to the barn, only to find George chasing the chickens

in the front yard. WTF and how did he get in the front yard?  I tried to herd the chickens

out of harm's way and was having no luck, so I ran to the feed room to grab a halter and lead rope

for George. I passed Hank on my way and had another WTF moment. 

His muzzle was swollen up like a balloon. I knew in a heartbeat 

that he'd most likely been bitten by a snake.

I've probably read every article about snakebites and horses that's ever been written, 

recognizing that some day I would have to deal with one of these emergencies, 

but all that knowledge didn't matter one bit. When you are staring into your own horse's 

swollen snakebit face, you forget everything you've ever learned, and the first thing you do is panic.

The second thing you do is get your vet on the phone. Then the vet talks you back from the ledge

and comes up with a plan. In Hank's case, the plan was: ice if he would tolerate it, 

10ccs of banamine, 2 grams of bute, keep him calm and quiet, and above all, 

don't let his airways close up if the swelling gets worse. That would mean 

having to stick a long hunk of hose up Hank's nostril, and I truly doubted 

if I could do that safely by myself. 

Once I got all the anti-inflammatories in him, the all-night vigil began, watching and waiting, 

hoping and praying that I would not have to stick a hunk of hose up his nose. 

I've circled the area of the bite in the picture above - there are two tiny punctures. 

I have no idea what kind of snake bit him.

I contained Lucy, George and Alan in the corral so that Hank wouldn't panic in the absence of his herd.

Throughout the night, they never left his side. I was touched by their attentiveness

until I figured out what they really wanted was to slurp up the slobber and whatever else was

coming out of Hank's nose. That's Lucy standing behind Hank, licking slobber off the pipe.

Alan is waiting for the next batch to drip out his mouth. It was all very weird and disgusting,

but it gave me something to focus on besides Hank's swollen face.

I took pictures throughout the night to help me figure out if the swelling 

was getting worse or better. 

By daybreak, it was definitely worse but had moved toward his jawline; 

Hank's left nasal passage was still relatively normal. We both breathed a little better 

thinking the hunk of hose would not be needed. I checked in with the vet, who said

I could give him more pain meds and offer him breakfast. 

Eating was difficult but Hank being Hank found a way. I felt comfortable enough with his progress

to leave Lucy in charge while I drove to the vet clinic for antibiotics, which would ward off 

any infection from the bite. My new concern at this point was that Hank hadn't pooped 

since this all started 16 hours ago. Then again, he hadn't eaten, so I figured he would poop eventually.

It was a four-hour round trip to the clinic, and even though I knew Hank would be okay

in my absence, it was still a huge relief to find him bright-eyed and standing when I got home.

But he still hadn't pooped. Ugh. I would worry about that next. 

First I had to worry about injecting 30ccs of penicillin in his butt.

I give Hank injections all the time, but in his neck and 10ccs at the most.

This procedure was more involved because of the amount and the risks,

and because I could barely get my hand around the huge syringe.

But being the trouper he is, Hank stood like a statue while I bumbled around his behind

and we got 'r done. He'll get the penicillan shot two more times, 

plus he'll also be on oral antibiotics for a week.

So now it's almost 21 hours since he's pooped. He's been eating, albeit slowly,

and what goes in has to come out, and if you're a horse, that usually happens

a dozen times a day. I decided to take him for a short walk. We hadn't gone more than

ten steps into the corral and voila! Why didn't I think of that hours ago?

Apparently Hank's a neat freak and doesn't like to poop in his stall. 

He still surprises me after all these years.

It's now 24 hours since this adventure began. I think/hope the worst is behind us.

Snake bites are a fact of life for equines who are turned out on rangeland. 

Frankly I'm surprised it's taken 10 years for us to experience our first one.

Maybe those awful grazing muzzles I force the donkeys to wear have helped improve our odds.

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself, with the possible exception of rattlesnakes

This comment came in from reader Maggy: I consider you fearless, since you're living on your own

in the middle of nowhere! As another single female (who's not nearly as fearless as you), 

how do you manage in times of trouble? (Illness, power outage, pet emergency, yada yada ...)

The short answer is: as best I can. Mercifully, there haven't been too many "times of trouble" 

while living here. Power outages are easy – I have a backup generator. With one notable exception, 

I never get sick, but when I did, reinforcements arrived from near and far to help me. 

The pet emergencies are tough, but each one gets a little easier – experience is a great teacher.

If there's one thing I've learned from a decade of living alone in the middle of nowhere it's that

worrying and being fearful are big wastes of energy. Whatever is going to happen will happen 

no matter what I do, so it's best to just figure out a way to deal with it and move on.

And it's also helpful to always be mindful of one's surroundings. 

See my footprints at the bottom of the picture? I was walking across an area 

where some industrious critters had burrowed tunnels in the ground. 

I've watched all sorts of creatures disappear into these tunnels: turtles, bunny rabbits, 

jack rabbits, kangaroo rats, squirrels...there's an entire community down there.

One of its members climbed out of his hole to catch a little sun. 

See him up there in the top left? 

Let me zoom in for you:

Lesson learned: steer clear of the soft dirt in the springtime when rattlesnakes

are waking up from their winter hibernation.

Sunday leftovers

 The fog rolled in a few times this week.

 I couldn't find the herd on these occasions...

 ...and had to resort to artsy-fartsy photos instead of my usual fare.

To my way of thinking, a photo isn't complete unless there's an animal in it...

...even if it's an unhappy animal.

This bunny is happy now but I'll bet he wasn't when something was taking a bite out of his right ear.

The noise behind the haystack emerged Saturday afternoon. Smooch warned me immediately.

I wish you all could see Smooch in action when she finds a snake, but the circumstances 

don't allow for picture-taking. She keeps a very respectful distance from the snake, barking 

her loudest, most alarming bark until I get outside. Once she knows I know where the snake is, 

she runs to the door to be let inside the house. I rope the snake and put it in the snake box...

...while Smooch watches from her safe spot.

Then I give her a treat (or two or three) and tell her what a most excellent snake spotter she is...

...then she yawns and stretches and says, "Just another day at the office."