Alan Skeoch

Author: terraviva

  • Fwd: “SOLDIER”…THE MARE THAT GABRIELA RESCUED



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: Fwd: “SOLDIER”…THE MARE THAT GABRIELA RESCUED
    Date: December 27, 2019 at 6:19:48 AM EST




    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: “SOLDIER”…HE MARE THAT GABRIELA RESCUED
    Date: December 26, 2019 at 2:26:16 PM EST
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>


    “SOLDIER”…THE MARE THAT NEEDED RESCUE


    alan skeoch
    dec. 2014

    “Who is this?”

      “Her name is Soldier…got her recently.  She  was in distress…starving and her legs were  

    deep in a muddy field…mud about 6 to 12 inches deep.”
    “:How did you know about her?”
    “Phone call from concerned person who knew me and was aware  I had leased Shenley Stables.”
    “Do you own  her now?”
    “Yes,  she has an excellent pedigree…we will breed her but first she needs
    to get her health back.  Starvation easy to see under the blankets.  But her feet
    are now fine.”
    “Why was she so neglected?”
    “Owner fell on hard times.   She was also under distress and did not know what to do.
    Offered me  Soldier for a small amount of money.  She  is worth a lot more.  The former 
    owner is overjoyed that Soldier has  such  a nice new home.”


    Note:  Owning a horse is  a major commitment.  Many owners find they cannot keep up the costs and have
    to make distressing decisions.  Often to have the animal put down.


  • Fwd: “WE WLL HAVE TO SHOOT HER.”…Then along came Gabriela , horse rescuer.



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: Fwd: “WE WLL HAVE TO SHOOT HER.”…Then along came Gabriela , horse rescuer.
    Date: December 28, 2019 at 10:46:28 AM EST
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>




    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: “WE WLL HAVE TO SHOOT HER.”…Then along came Gabriela , horse rescuer.
    Date: December 28, 2019 at 10:45:43 AM EST
    To: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>


    “WE WILL HAVE TO SHOOT HER.”


    alan skeoch
    Dec.  30, 2019

    “Hello, is that you Gabriela?”
    “Yes.”
    “A friend gave me your number.  There is a  magnificent 
    mare who is  about to be shot.   Irish…excellent pedigree. Perhaps  you can  intervene.”
    “Oh, dear.”
    “Her name is Mojo.   She is a 12 year old  Irish mare.  Big horse.
    “Why shoot her?”
    “She  has gone lame in one foot.  And she  is 12 years old.”
    “Lots of horses are 12 and  older.  A friend just lost their
    horse at age 32.  Natural  death.”
    “The lame leg can get better we think.  The decisions to shoot
    her was  a  tough one for the owners so if you want to rescue her,
    she is yours.”
    “I’ll hitch up the trailer and come down tomorrow.  Let the owners know.”

    (Trip there and back took  several hours…but no problem loading
    Mojo into the trailer.)

    “Alan, this is  Mojo.  Saved in the last moment.”
    “Save from what?”
    “Being shot.”
    “What is she like…hard to handle  I bet because she is  so big?”
    “She is gentle…loves  us.   You should  have been here when she arrived.  We put
    her out in one pasture with another mare and they ran like the wind…tails flowing…jumping
    as high as they could.  Pure joy.”
    “What about the lame leg?”
    “Not that noticeable really but will need Vet care I  guess.”



    “Alan, you should  have been here today.  The mares including Mojo were put in pasture again and
    they ran like  wild horses…free…”
    “Are you planning to breed her?”
    “Already booked…may use AI since a stallion on her back quarters might not be a good  idea.”
    “Is she interested?”
    “You bet she is.  We put our gelding in the next pasture  and  all hell broke loose as Mojo and the
    gelding tried to get together.  He charged the fence as  if he was a  stallion.  And she teased
    him the same way.   It was quite a  sight to see.”

    “We are trying to think of a new name for Mojo…do you have any ideas?”
    “Lots.  I  like the name TRIUMPH for instance.
    “I’ll keep  that in mind.”
    “Marjorie would call her “BLACK BEAUTY.”

    Note…That is Mojo in the distance.

    “WHAT are you doing Gabriela?”
    “Decorating the stables for Christmas.”
    “Why would horses  care?”
    “They do care…a horse is  much smarter than people think.”
    “Does Mojo know  I am scared of her?”
    “Yes,  she  does.”

    “Does  she know you are the  person that saved her life?”
    “yes.  I could tell by the way she followed me to our horse trailer.
    She  did  not hesitate.  And now she greets me every day..  I think
    she liked the Christmas  balls as  well.”



  • Fwd: BLACK LEGGED TICK GOT WOODY…MARJORIE GOT IT OUT, I HELD WOODY.



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: BLACK LEGGED TICK GOT WOODY…MARJORIE GOT IT OUT, I HELD WOODY.
    Date: December 2, 2019 at 12:09:48 AM EST
    To: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>


    WE GOT IT…A BLACK LEGGED TICK FULL OF BLOOD


    alan and marjorie  skeoch
    Nov. 2019
    featuring Woody, the host


    “Alan, come quickly, Woody has a tick embedded in his back.”
    “Tweezers…got to get them.”
    “You hold Woody, I’ll get the tick.:
    “Remember…a firm grip then a steady slow but determined  pull…make sure we get the head of the tick
    as well as the body.”
    “What kind  of tick do you think it might be?”
    “Hope it is not the BLACK LEGGED KIND.”



    “steady Woody…steady.”
    “Hold his head.”
    “Get the tick…ugly looking bastard.”
    “Slippery…tweezers keep sliding off.”
    “Get right down to Woody’s skin.”
    “Got it…firm, determined  but not jerky pull…must get the head of the tick as well as the body”
    “Does it have BLSCK LEGS?


    “YES, a Black Legged Tick…worst kind”
    “Carriers  of Lyme disease.”
    “Love deer best…called deer ticks by some.”
    “How  does it get attached?”
    “The little SOB’s sit on the very tip of plants waiting for Woody to touch the plant…then ZIP!…THE TICK grabs the fur or the skin…
    usually the fur … then the tick walks its way down to the skin.”
    “Wants  blood…sucks up blood  like a balloon.  Ticks  are so tiny they are not noticed until filled  with blood.
    “Some people, like our good Friend “Rooter” do not even know they had a tick on them.  Painless…fills with 
    blood then drops off and gets ready to lay 3,000 eggs.”


    “Look at the tick.”
    “See the black legs?”
    “I also see a  chunk of Woody’s flesh.”
    “And some strands of Woody’s fur.”




    “Ticks could be waiting for us anywhere here…on corn stalks or wild grapes …just about any tall plant…


    “What should  we do?”
    “Certainly live our lives as normally as possible.”
    “But check for ticks and get a Lyme disease shot from
    the doctor if  you suspect a tick bite.”

    “Do you think Woody knew he had a tick?”
    “He likes to rub  up against us often…saying “Get the tick off my back.” with his eyes.

    “And us?  What should we do?”
    “Well, we should strip and  check our bare bodies  for ticks each night.”
    “Sounds like fun.”


  • Checking in….ALAN SKEOCH

    Hi, How are you? I hope all is well with you.

     
    I need a favor  from you, please email me  back as soon as possible.

    Kind Regards

    Alan

  • VOICE FROM THE DARKNESS! REVISITING THE GORDON BALL AUCTON NOV. 2018

    VOICE FROM THE DARK
    (Revisiting Gordon Ball’s auction)

    alan skeoch
    Nov. 2018

    This stone  house  was built long ago.  Long before Gordon Bell moved here in 1960.
    But Gordon loved it.  He was a loner in many ways…kept to himself and a few  friends
    who were also in the antique business.  Then Gordon got killed in a car accident and his
    farm fell into neglect.


    The auction had  a little bit of everything.  Wrong term.  The auction had a lot of  everything
    imaginable.  A lot of the really good things were stolen.  And the remainder…piles and piles of
    things…were  a little the worse for wear.   If you read my first article on the auction you
    would know  what I mean.

    alan skeoch
    nov. 2019

    ANDREW AND I went back to Gordon  Ball’s farm two days  after the auction sale.
    We had things to gather.  Andrew bought a truckload of white pine planks as  shiny new
    as if they came from the sawmill a week ago.  But they were ancient. Dead flat…clean
    as a whistle…
    below the raccoon dung.


    I wandered back to the farm house.  Noticed that Gordon’s kitchen
    was now empty.  The  day of the sale there were piles of things in
    every  corner.  Thrown there by the vandals who had trashed the farm
    on many  midnight visits. Today it was spanking clean.  Sort of! 

    Memories of this kitchen on a winter night with that stove belching
    out heat with the family gathered round pushed the ruined site
    to the background of my mind.

    In the woodshed, I made a discovery.




    Outside the house there is  a woodshed.  Dishevelled woodshed that is.  Chunks
    of cordwood thrown around.   And at the far end there is a STAIRCASE.
    Never noticed it the day of the sale.  Seems that Bob Severn and Jim McCartney
    missed  it too.   

    These stairs were dark.  Lit up by  my flash camera.  






    Downstairs was  as black as the worst night imaginable.  
    Then I pushed  the flash button again.



    And the basement was full of kerosene lamps and  lamp parts.  No Good Housekeeping
    awards though.




    Sort of looks like boxes full of gold.  Right?



    Then out of the dark in another basement room came  a voice

    “Be careful down here…lots of broken glass.”
    I couldn’t see anyone…so I pressed  the flash and
    presto this image appeared…a man wearing some kind
    of ventilator.

    “Probably best you not come down here.”
    “Are you the new owner?”,  (I did not say this as
    bold as it sounds.)
    “I will leave…take a couple of pictures on my way.”

    Was  he the new owner?
    Why was he wearing a ventilator…mask…?”
    “What was he looking for?”
    “How could he see in the dark?
    “He had a  small penlight…see the smudges of light?”

    So I left.  Now here are  a  couple of questions for you.

    1)Scan the things.  What seems to have value to you.?
    2)Who do you think the man  in the black coat might be?
    3) Would you run out as fast as you could?
    4) Would  you have climbed down those stairs in
    the first place.  (I was not trespassing…purchasers of goods
    have time to get their goods.)















    My exit was different from my entrance.

    I could  only see the No Trespassing sign on my way out.  



    ELSEWHERE ON THE FARM BIG THINGS
    WERE HAPPENING…CAREFUL DEMOLITIONS
    SLOW IN CONTRAST TO A VANDALS DEVIL 
    MAY CARE TREATMENT.

    THESE BUILDINGS ARE WONDERFUL … EACH HEADING
    TO A GOOD HOME.





    I wish I had bought this old  wrecked car.  It has  character…too nice to be melted down…don’t you think?

    The guy with the crayon is  going to rebuild the log cabin into a blacksmith shop on his  farm.  He is full of joy
    as  you can see.

    A FINAL WORD FROM BOB SEVERN, CHIEF AUCTIONEER



    “Thought you would be  here, Alan. This was not an easy  auction.”
    “Why?”
    “No one living here…a dead end  road…and  great piles of antiques.”
    “Vandals got here first it seems?”
    “Came many times in dead  of night.”


    (Somewhere in this tree is a motion camera watching me.  Cannot see it.)

    “We would  notice things gone with each visit as we got
    things arranged.”
    “Could’nt you do something.”
    “We did.  We put hidden cameras in the laneway but that 
    did not work…they were found.”
    “And?”
    “So we put a camera high up in that big willow.”
    “See anyone?”
    “We did.  We watched a  man casually walking around loading up
    at his leisure.  He did not know where the camera was but he did not
    really care.”
    “Why not?”
    “What could we do?  We did not see his face very well and if we had  seen him
    even then  there was  little we could do.”
    “Sad.”
    “There was  one thing we could  do though.”
    “We  rented  that big steel container, the kind that cross the ocean, and filled it with 
    the antiques that had not been stolen…lots of them…locked it up.  To get it open
    would require a blow torch.”
    “I thought the container come from Scottish estates…looked that way.”
    “There was  one other thing we could do.
    “What?:
    “Have this auction as fast as we could…turned out
    to be an  auction in a  snowstorm.  But the half ton trucks
    just kept coming. Turned  out to be a good auction.  Even
    sold  the three log cabins and both of the big barns.”

    (I am  paraphrasing Bob’s comments….)

    alan skeoch
    Nov.  2019