You might also enjoy our other Halloweens:
Giraffes, zebras, fairies ... oh my!
Happy Halloween from all of us!
We escaped flooding in last month's deluge. Even better, the horses got a green-grass bonus just before winter!
"Mount Manure", our compost pile made of soiled shavings and horse manure, produces amazing plants. This cherry tomato plant was living in its pot with our raspberries in old water troughs filled with Mount Manure "product". I pulled it into our bay window room in the middle of last night's freezing rain. Planted from seed, this tomato is an indeterminate variety, meaning it should have multiple growing seasons, and is still full of flowers. I hope the grow lights keep it going through the winter! Read also, Easter 2013: Grandang's Rhubarb, which shows how we use old, leaky water troughs as planters. Grandang's rhubarb, shown below in an updated August photo, is also in a bed created from our horse output. The rhubarb produced like crazy, even after being split earlier in the spring. Arrangements can be made if you are interested in a piece of Mount Manure.
The river, which runs along our north border, is at about twice its spring melt levels, and has broken through to the gravel pond natural areas to the north. It has also flooded the Poudre River bike trail to our east, along the north border of the proposed Pateros Creek housing development.
Our stable may be a "peaceful place for you and your horse", but a hardy handful here also enjoy competition, often with an able assist from Cayla Stone. If you ever get a chance, you should try Moqui Meadows annual August show. Wonderful jumps and delicious dressage await ...
Joseph Messier did not have death on his mind when he halted on a piece of ground downstream from the military's Camp Collins in 1862. What he did have was an alias, perhaps a little gold in his pockets, and an eye for opportunity.
He was fresh from Colorado’s gold rush, which if you knew where to look, could be a very good thing. Joseph had learned another lesson: One should beware of a certain beautiful Native American maiden, especially when there was another man involved. That other man, a hulking mule shoer, had objected. It ended in a duel in Denver, but not in death. The hulk fainted as the combatants faced off, one newspaper reported.
True love it seemed, was not in the cards for this darkly-handsome young bachelor. At least not yet.
The only snag in this plan was the Native American woman who owned the land Joseph wanted. Her husband was dead however, and it could be she was ready to sell out. Joseph's good looks probably helped seal that deal.
"He was six feet in stature, straight and lithe in form. His complexion was tawny, but clear, his eyes were large, full and flashing, and his hair and beard black as jet."
- The (Fort Collins) Express newspaper,
February 11, 1881
At age 22, he became the proud owner of 160 acres of paradise. Joseph busied himself with the life of a hero, not to mention farming and empire building.
In 1864, the weather got ugly. Winter snows fell deep, and spring melts flooded the lowlands. On June 9th, a rain storm sent torrents of water “plunging like the waves of the sea under the impulse of a gale”, according to Ansel Watrous, the area’s premier historian, left, from whom much of this tale emerged. Camp Collins, the military outpost a few miles up the river from Joseph’s claim, was instantly flooded to the tent rooftops, and soldiers barely escaped with their lives.
Joseph told the bedraggled crew they should move what was left of their camp to a spot south of the river, on his east border. It was high enough to protect from floods, and provide early warning in case any Native Americans, angry over being pushed out by the United States government, attacked. In a letter endorsed by Abraham Lincoln, the acting interior secretary ordered the move, specifically noting Joseph's claim. Perhaps as a thank you, Camp Collins named Joseph and his partner as sutlers (suppliers) to the new outpost. It could also be that Joseph spied an opportunity to attract new customers when he became the first postmaster a year later.
Camp Collins did not last long, and was abandoned by soldiers in 1866. Ripples of the Homestead Act of 1862, which offered free land to settlers, had finally reached the Colorado Territory and Fort Collins. With Colorado’s 1876 statehood looming, the government threw open the camp property to pre-existing squatters and local entrepreneurs. Joseph, well into breeding and selling horses, in fact, well into any kind of horse-propelled business he could think of, had sold his farm to Henry Forbes, and moved on to acquiring more land, as well as putting Fort Collins on the map.
In all the excitement, Joseph finally made room in his life for love. It could have been a fried chicken dinner or a breakfast of pork chops and eggs. We don’t know, but in 1867, while on a freight trip, Joseph discovered the superb cooking and companionship of young Luella, 10 years his junior. Luella worked for her father at his hotel on the Overland Trail in Longmont. The two were married in 1870, the second marriage in Fort Collins' history. In due course, Luella bore Joseph four children.
The years saw Joseph’s star on the rise, especially his sheriff's star. Not limiting his politics to launching the Colorado Central Railroad Company, or convincing the populace to make Fort Collins the county seat, Joseph agreed to be the first county sheriff. He distinguished himself with bravery, especially in the matter of chasing down the woman-molester, Happy Jack, who after jail time, escape, and lengthy pursuit, mysteriously “disappeared”.
Newspapers followed the pursuits of Joseph’s trotting horses, and a particular horse “Sam” turned heads, sending one writer "busted and disgusted" out of Boulder, Colorado. In other horse pursuits, Joseph’s stage line to Cheyenne wooed customers with advertisements for convenient pick up at local hotels, and the newspaper and family documents duly noted his new livery sign and hay sales.
At one point Joseph paid the highest taxes of anybody in the county. Perhaps he needed a feed store for all of his livestock when he bought what is today Ranch-Way Feeds from Auntie Stone.
Besides helping others get a start in the bustling metropolis of Fort Collins, with an 1878 population of 1,200, Joseph performed an immense act of generosity and donated 50 acres to help build what is today Colorado State University.
If Joseph had planned a career as a pioneer hero, he couldn't have asked for more. But Joseph never expected what happened February 9, 1881.
Coming home from a visit with an ill Mr. Sherwood, who owned land east of Fort Collins, a young horse brought Joseph and Luella's carriage to a halt, refusing to cross the Dry Creek stream. Luella jumped out and urged the team across the stream. Still the young horse balked. Luella returned to the carriage, took over the reins, and Joseph jumped down. He pulled on the problem animal's headstall. The team began to move. As the horses picked up speed, Joseph ran along.
If you know horses, you know that running over rough ground with a horse in tow is difficult. Joseph stumbled and fell.
Luella and her mother halted the team and turned back to Joseph. He lay still. The women went to his side and found him unconscious. With the help of bystanders, they loaded him into the carriage and bore Joseph home.
When they laid him down that they discovered the worst: Joseph had been kicked in the head.
“... the fracture was nearly the shape of a horse shoe, one heel calk cutting through the skull just back of the right eyebrow, and the other in a direct line back of the ear: the arc of the shoe extended from those points to a point a little above the turn of the head, or above the temporal bone.”
-- Fort Collins Courier, February 17, 1881
Joseph swung in and out of consciousness. Local doctors pulled 62 shards of skull out of the wound. Joseph’s partner frantically summoned Denver specialists by train, but could not get permission for a special train run because the railroad owner was on vacation. Those who loved Joseph gathered round. At one point he rose and recognized friends and family. He was able to sign his will, but could last no longer. Joseph died February 11, 1881 at age 41. He left behind Luella and their small children.
At Joseph’s funeral, citizens packed the church and poured out into the street. The population of Fort Collins, now 1,356 people give or take a few, produced a procession of mourners a half mile long. We had lost the Father of Fort Collins.
"Joe … was entirely devoted to the interests of Fort Collins and Larimer County. He was always ready to help newcomers get a start here - he would lend them money, fit them out with teams to till the soil, and assist them in a hundred ways,” reported the Fort Collins Express. “’He never thought of Joe,’ said an old friend of his … 'but always of somebody else.’”
If you ask most people today about the French-Canadian named Joseph Messier, they will probably shake their heads. You see, Joseph changed his name when he came to this country. We knew him as Joseph Mason.
Joseph Mason’s grave was relocated in the great 1887 local cemetery move to Grand View Cemetery. The people I've run into in Fort Collins look blank when you mention Joseph Mason. I guess we've pretty much forgotten him, but Wikipedia remembers the Father of Fort Collins. At least we named a street after him. When you ride Fort Collin's new MAX rapid-transit system, look out the window. You are on Mason Street.
Joseph’s original farm, the heart of that river parcel he bought more than 150 years ago, exists today at our place, 930 N. Shields St.
A little Googling of Shields Street history will give you your first historic clue with a mention of Joseph Mason and Shields Street. Alvina Desjardins, the granddaughter of Joseph's neighbor, Rock Bush, remembered the property, which "bordered Bush's to the south" in an article she wrote for the April 13, 1987 Fence Post. Rock Bush's farm location is backed up by the 1915 map of the Irrigated Farms of Colorado. (Note: The specific map link, Northwest Quarter -- Townships 6-9 North, Ranges 66W - 69W;, will not load on computers low in RAM.) Joseph Mason and Rock Bush lived in Section 2 of Township 7, Range 69W. When the map was made, a Mr. Kenedy owned our place. To get your bearings, look for T.7N. on the left margin of the map, head right a little bit and stop at the intersection of the Poudre River and Shields Street.
Ansel Watrous references Joseph's farm location in his book, "The History of Larimer County" (p. 320), as well as Joseph's sale of the land to Henry Forbes (p. 216). Ansel would have first-hand knowledge of the property, as his uncle, William Watrous, owned the property for many years, as well. If you use government land ordinance records to look up Henry Forbes, you can see the property on yet another digital map, and you can find Rock Bush's parcel across the river. Joseph's property location is also noted in the Fort Collins History Connection.
In the crosshairs
Fort Collins has spread, and Joseph's farm has shrunk to 19-and-a-half acres. The City of Fort Collins owns much of the former acreage in the form of Martinez Park, city offices and the city yard, which houses its big-truck, big-construction resources.
Joseph's farm is in the crosshairs of a major Shields Street widening by Larimer County (delayed until 2015 due to the undisclosed "historical nature" of several properties in the project), a city sewer connection heading north under the river, city bike trail improvements on its north border, and a housing development on its east border.
If you are walking or driving by, look for the farm at the southeast corner of the Poudre River and North Shields Street. Up the bluff above the river, many of the old buildings peek out. Once the Twin Willows Tea Room, with an old tale all its own, the farm is today Poudre River Stables, where people live daily the fabric of history that Joseph Mason first wove – a love of horses, haying, the harvest, and the land.
Thanks to:
John F. Hoffecker, PhD, University of Colorado, Boulder; specialist in archaeology and human paleoecology, for alerting me to the connection between Joseph Mason and this property.
Mark Emery for solving the first clue in the property's history puzzle when he found the Twin Willows Tea Room menu.
Carolyn Blackburn, archivist, City of Greeley Museums, for her help locating the 1915 map of the Irrigated Farms of Colorado.
The archivist on duty at the Discovery Museum who helped me Saturday morning, August 24, 2013, with the Mason Family and Rock Bush vertical files.
ColoradoHistoricNewspapers.org for its wonderful resources.
Rummaging around second-hand stores on a recent trip to McClelland's Beach, Spirit Lake, Iowa, I found these great old postcards from 1908 and 1909 that illustrate how important horses were back then. You won't find an automobile in sight. You could mail a card for a penny. One of the messages is in a language other than English. Can you translate it?
You never know where you'll stumble across a horse. We visited Saratoga Resort and Spa a couple of weeks ago, and loved their life-sized, outdoor chess set.
See more Jackie Johnson Trick-Training Clinic photos
Get the equipment Jackie Johnson uses to start trick-training horses.
See more Jackie Johnson Trick-Training Clinic photos.
Get the equipment Jackie Johnson uses to start trick-training horses.
Our portable, solar-powered electric goat pen from Premier 1 Fencing appears to have befuddled this little clan. I've noticed before that deer will avoid whatever area the goat pen is set up in. This only a temporary solution. Wire cages for the little cider-apple trees will be next. The Gallagher solar charger is from Jax Ranch & Home.
See more photos of our wildlife
You might also enjoy: Just an old goat
Learn more about our hard cider-making, read Pressing on: Ye Olde Cider.
According to The Coloradoan, a retired nuclear physicist's electric fence was connected to a 100-foot extension cord that was plugged into a power strip plugged into another extension cord plugged into an electrical outlet. The contraption sparked a brush fire that consumed 1,348 acres of Colorado's Lory State Park.
Avoid endearing yourself to the neighbors and thousands of other park users -- get your electric fencing right the first time. It's not rocket (or nuclear) science. For your protection, we offer the folowing repost of Fencing Fracas: Tips for Sanity. Be sure to check out the collection of photos at the end.
*** *** ***
We should never have built with wood back in the olden days when the fence first went up. Wood beats pipe for looks, but horses will trash wood fencing in an instant. Horses are worse than the beavers that plague us. It would be an interesting speed contest: a beaver with a tree v. a horse with a wood fence.
Anyway, a contributing factor to the problem of our fences was that, over time, band-aid repairs to our hot wire, aka: electric fence, had reduced it to near total failure. The wire no longer carried much, if any of a charge.
The horses scoffed at the wire, and since two of the horses on the other side of the fence are mares, everybody likes to flirt, play, kick down and chew boards when bored. Grrr. And you thought you wanted to board horses. Note to self: House geldings only or build a pen in the hinterlands for the mares.
Gregg, a wonderful guy -- I may someday share our story -- peeled me off of the ceiling and said not to worry, it would just be work, not rocket science, to get this right.
Electric horse fencing tips:
Guess what? It worked! About 10 days later, the fence remains intact!
You might also enjoy the story about the retired nuclear physicist who started a 1,348-acre brush fire with his fencing experiment.
Check out our photos, below, for more details. If this helped you, please:
Many of our horses came back into the barn soaked after about three hours in Day 2 of Snowmageddon 2013. Their turnout blankets and rain sheets were soaked through. Considering what horse people pay for blankets, you would expect better results. Oddly, it was not a case of popular name v. knockoff. Some big names failed as did a lesser-known model. I also think as blankets age, they lose their water repellency. Watch the video to see what our stable discovered during this crazy spring snow storm!
It seems to me that most weather experts predicted the giant storm "snowmageddon" about a week ago. Instead it came yesterday and today, leaving about 15 inches of snow at our place. Snow always makes managing horses interesting. Sadly, our beloved John Deere 950 met its final demise during the storm. While plowing, it blew a rod, which smashed a hole in the engine block. On the up side, I hope this helps the drought!
My great-grandmother Maude McClelland's rhubarb, planted more than 100 years ago at McClelland's Beach, Spirit Lake, Iowa, survives today on our place, after a handful of rhizomes were rescued many years ago when my grandmother died, leaving her mother's garden to fate. We split the rhizomes today and replanted Grandang's rhubarb in the garden nearest to the overnight horse pens. I'm taking the robin in the patch as a good omen. This rhubarb is lacier than what I see for sale in Colorado, and makes superb wine with wonderful blush and a hint of spice. Stay tuned as Grandang's rhubarb grows!
Winters are
particularly tough on laminitic horses. It seems like everything is more
sensitive, their legs, their feet, their bodies. Bonnie, now about 28 or 29
years old, has worn front shoes ever since she foundered in 2005. We tried
pulling shoes during the snow and ice season, but Bonnie always became
sore-footed.
I think for Bonnie, the soreness comes from a combination of sensitive feet, old-age arthritis, and whatever damage laminitis has done. Bonnie needed the support of shoes. Lately however, she seemed consistently tender. I wondered if her feet were weary of enclosure in metal shoes. I worried that she might also be developing contracted heels, and that the metal shoe was not allowing the foot to pump properly, encouraging circulation.
I visited the Soft-Ride website many months ago, but balked at the approximately $300 it would cost to fit Bonnie with two of the boots, which though they come with a “normal” orthotic insert for $200, would probably work better for her with the special laminitic insert for another $100.
Soft-Ride had great measuring instructions, but the process was still difficult, not knowing if I was following instructions correctly. A measuring video would have been helpful. In hindsight, I should have commandeered an assistant for the measuring part. Also, I needed a stubby pencil to get around the back of her hooves, and of course, all I had on me was a normal-length felt pen.
I decided to commit to the order on a Thursday night, and added two-day FedEx ground delivery. What a waste that expense was. Monday would have been understandable, but the boots did not arrive until the following Tuesday. I suppose I should look into a FedEx refund.
After a
pre-fit with Bonnie still wearing her shoes, I guesstimated that the boots
would fit correctly on her bare feet. My goal is to keep Bonnie barefooted, and
perhaps, if the boots improve her overall foot health, ever so gradually
transition Bonnie to a mostly-barefooted life. So, Gregg pulled her shoes.
I peeled back the heel of the first boot, held my breath, and slipped Bonnie’s foot into it. Cinderella could not have done better with the glass slipper. The boot, a 7 Long, fit! I slipped her other foot into a boot, loosely closed the industrial strength double velcro fasteners, and Gregg walked Bonnie a few steps just so her feet could push down more deeply into the boot. Bonnie looked tolerant, but I couldn’t tell how well the boots worked. I re-tightened the fasteners, and Gregg walked Bonnie around the staging area.
All I can say is, I should have put these boots on Bonnie when she first foundered! (Did Soft-Ride even exist then?) Bonnie looked wonderful. No more “walking on eggshells”! Our elderly, lame sweetie took full strides, flexing properly through the toe, heel, and foreleg.
Backgrounder:
In the acute phase of Bonnie’s first founder attack, we bought construction Styrofoam,
traced around her feet, and wrapped the Styrofoam to her hooves with duct tape.
This was cheap, but the true cost was time and sticky mess. Those Styrofoam
booties had to be changed about every 24 hours because they went flat and the
duct tape wore out, leaving tape residue on Bonnie’s leg hair and hooves.
I walked Bonnie back to the barn, and she actually pulled on me, not vice versa! A client who walked by us turned, looked, and said, “Bonnie looks like a new horse!”
Like many horses in pain, Bonnie often displayed wrinkled nostrils, pursed lips, and a dull attitude. I do feed Bonnie our dried willow to make her more comfortable, but even though I have seen no side effects, I don't want to overdo it. It would be nice if she didn't have to rely on pain meds, just a nice natural, health-promoting solution.
You'll be glad to know that when I returned Bonnie to her stall, she stuck her head over the wall and looked around bright-eyed. I could swear she was grinning.
(Bonnie is the star of Winning Bet, a clean horse read for 'tweens and teens by Karin Livingston, author of this blog.)
This Grant Farms bumper sticker spotted today in a parking lot may soon be a collector's item. Grant Family Farms, the nation's largest Community-Supported Agriculture program, heads to the auction block next month after filing for its third bankruptcy in December. Localization Partners LLC, the farms' major creditor, has set, appropriately for this blog, what is known as a "stalking horse" bid. Read the full Coloradoan story.
Read also: Creditors wonder if Grant Farms' funds were used to pay home mortgage
Considering this sad story along with the IKEA/European horse-meat-in-the-food scandal, it really would be nice to know: Who's your farmer?
