Guest Blog: Storm!

Howdy! My name is Storm. I know this is generally a dog blog but, I might as well tell you right up front, I’m not a dog, I’m a horse. Chico and Logan have been promising me a guest spot for months and, at last, I get my chance. I’m also on the To All the Steeds I’ve Loved Before list for T’s blog, but she’s only on Echo and I’m at least a couple of horses after that.


Happy to be one of the steeds she’s loved.


So, a little bit about me for starters, I guess. I mentioned I’m a horse. Well, technically, I’m not. I’m actually a pony. The dividing line between horses and ponies is 14.2 hands in height (a hand is four inches for those who might not be familiar with the units used to measure equines). I’m 14.1 (that’s 14 hands plus one inch). If I’m overdue for a hoof trim and you count my thick winter coat, I can probably squeak out that extra inch but, in the world of horses, I am not a horse.


The saddle makes me look taller. Right?


I’m 15 years old and have lived here at the van Bryce farm for going on 14 years now, since I was just a year and half old. The story of how I came to be here is kinda cool, if you like feel-good-happy-ending animal stories. I was apparently born in August of 2002 but I don’t remember much about my foalhood. My earliest memory is being at the Innisfail Auction in April of my two-year-old year. I was standing in a pen before the auction started and a few people came by to look at me, but not very many. I was kind of small and had that half-shedded-out-spring-scruffy thing going on, so I probably wasn’t what most people were looking for.


Me in April 2004


And then I had the misfortune of being first horse through the ring. Who bids on hip #1? Everyone is sitting on their hands waiting to see what the prices are like before they bid … except for the meat buyers. They’re not too fussy.  For them it’s all about price per pound. So that’s who bid on me, and bought me, for $180. Of course, I didn’t know one buyer from another at the time. What I did know is that the man who bought me from the auction ring wasn’t the one loading me into a trailer at the end of the day. Here’s the story as it was written for part of an article T did for an equine magazine.


My new herd. Nevada (behind me) and I are still best buds.


The man had never been to an auction before and was feeling a bit anxious about the process. He and his wife had come looking for a couple of young “project horses” to add to their herd of old reliables. The first horse in the ring was a little bay roan colt (me!). The man was tempted to place a bid but this was the first horse through (what did I tell you?). It seemed a bit rash. Before he could think too long, the horse was sold, and he recognized a local meat horse buyer. “I should have bid on that roan horse,” he commented to his wife, “I think I should have bid on that horse.” He fretted for the next five or six lots, kicking himself for not bidding on the roan (me!). Suddenly, he was standing, “I’ll be right back.” His wife watched him as he worked his way through the crowd to the dealer who had bought the roan (me!). There was a short exchange of words, a handshake, and he made his way back to his seat, a smile on his face.

In that moment, my fate was changed, all for a $20 bill.


I think it was my smile they couldn’t resist.


Well, I hope to have the chance to tell you more stories from my view of the farm. One of the challenges is that I have to dictate while one of the dogs types (hoof + keyboard = disaster), which means I can’t just pop in whenever I want. I have to be invited.

I hear they’re headed south soon so it’ll likely be spring until you hear from me again, unless I can get my stories sent down to the desert somehow. If you’re thinking I’m upset because I don’t get to go along, not at all. You see, I’m The Accountant around here, and I like things to be the same, the same, the same. But more about that next time.


I don’t mind the snow at all.



A Dog For All Seasons

T is a real weather nut. She’s always checking the forecasts on her phone, has half a dozen apps on there that show her forecasts, current conditions, wind predictions, and radar. It’s cool. I get it. Weather is pretty interesting and does have a big impact on how we spend our days, especially living out here in the country.

For example, when I go out first thing in the morning, I might go for a little wander around the yard if it’s nice, check out who or what has wandered through the yard overnight, take my time. But, when it’s raining, lift-me-off-the-ground windy or just plain frigid, I’ll lift my leg for just enough time to relieve the pressure and hustle back to the door, praying that T or Nollind hasn’t gone off to make tea or some other such thing. “I’m back! Let me in!”


Any weather is good weather for a cuddle.

T has weather apps that cover our winter destinations too but she doesn’t look at them nearly as often as here at home. You see, the weather down in southern Arizona is usually kind of predictable. Sunny and warm. To my way of thinking, predictable, especially when it’s sunny and warm, is a good thing, a very good thing.


Just another boring winter day in Arizona. Sigh…

Now, here at home, where we live three-quarters of the year, the weather is never predictable and rarely boring. In fact, during this particular fall season, we’ve had all four seasons for the price of one.

September started off a lot like July and August were, hot and dry. It felt like the summer that just wouldn’t end. T and Nollind got more miles out of their flip-flops this summer than ever before. In fact, one of T’s weather sites said it was the hottest summer in forty years!

Fall arrived around the middle of September, with cooler evenings, a little frost here and there overnight, and the leaves drifting down off the trees. I love fall. We can walk at any time of day without getting overheated, there are lots of animals out and about for us to track, and evening cuddle time comes a bit earlier.


A September walk in the hay field.

But then, just barely into October, winter arrived with a fury like I’ve never seen so early in the year. The temperatures dropped below freezing and the wind blew the snow into drifts that were way taller than me and hard enough for us to walk on. We’ve seen big storms out here on the prairie before, but never in October, not even in November. It was like we’d fast-forwarded two months and landed in the middle of a blizzard!


Digging out.

The horses had to be brought into the shelter and blanketed, Nollind got the truck stuck and had to pull it out with the tractor, and I basically spent the whole day trying to avoid going outdoors. You’d be amazed how long I can hold it when there’s such a powerful incentive! Even just outside the door, sheltered by the caragana bushes that surround the house, the snow was swirling everywhere because of the very strong winds. One quick trip outside and I was soaked and shivering.


The horses trying to stay warm by eating. I like their strategy!

Now, the next day was a different story. The snow and the wind had stopped and we went for a walk. There is nothing like a roll in fresh snow. It’s even better than green grass. I must have rolled a dozen times in our short walk around the property—just couldn’t stop. Of course, the snow didn’t last.

Once the sun was out and things warmed up to normal October temperatures, all that snow melted and made the grass turn green again.  It’s like spring! Don’t worry though, the horses aren’t fooled one bit. They’ll happily eat the pretend-spring grass but they haven’t stopped working on those winter coats they started on back in September. I should probably do the same.


The last of the snow drifts (this one was five feet high!)


Foto Fur-iday – Triple H Camping

We had our second horse/human/hound (Triple H) camping trip of the season last Sunday-Monday. We’ll let the pictures tell the story.


Aaaahhhh … feels good to be back in the mountains.


Why lie on a man-made bed when you’ve got mountain turf?


Campfire time on Sunday night.


Logan likes the ground, I prefer to be more civilized.


The horses were almost right in camp with us for the evening. For you horse people out there, don’t worry, they weren’t left unattended with that hay net.


A chilly Monday morning in the trailer.


Forest fire smoke kept the sun from heating things up.


What happens when horses are fed leftover oatmeal from the pot.


This is Storm. Watch for his upcoming guest blog post.


Ice cream on the way home at Bragg Creek.



Me trying to get my share. It’s not easy with Chico around.


Until next week …