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The horses greeted us in their finery with layers of mud, rainbow hued in
tans, deep earth tones and the ever popular manure shade. Eight people,
scrapers, sand blasters, curry combs barely visible in the cloud of dust.
There was talk of a car wash, hmmm, maybe I should've oiled the saddle, oh
well.
It was lesson day so the plan was for Mr T to try a new approach to see if
we had a saddle fitting problem. I had the usual crowd at the gate, my
horses being the only ones who come and stand in anxious anticipation...my
turn, Ma? (How do you do that, Diane? How do you make your horses come even
before you call?) I reached for Mr T's halter only to have him shunted
aside by Miss B, the shy one, who on this day was not to be denied. For too
long I had ignored her in favor of the boys (who needed the work more), but
none of that this afternoon. My turn.
Sandy, my instructor, looked with misgivings at the trappings we brought to
the dressage arena...the Sharon Saare saddle, a hackamore, the purple
halter/bridle. "You mean this horse has NEVER had a bit in her mouth?!"
Umm, no, just the hackamore. Let's see how she does, western pleasure
maybe? Gaping, Sandy watched us move down the long side, me controlling the
pace with posting alone, the bend a simple shift of the shoulder and
seatbone. Miss B is incredible, green to the ways of the ring, but totally
obedient, honest and true. Sandy had only ever seen this mare with her
flying starts, Kevin manuevering as only a young man can on a horse
determined to move out strongly. Mom is more hindered, less flexible, a
helping hand required while I organize the major muscle groups for the
ungainly mount.
We worked as best we could in the icy slop, then Sandy shyly asked, "Would
you mind if I rode her?". So I had the pleasure of watching them work over
cavalettis, Sandy waxing euphoric on how this mare would make such a nice
hunter-jumper. I said "Try to find a saddle to fit her, then we'll talk".
A most satisfying day.
As the daylight waned I took it into my peabrain that Kasey could use a
little mosey up and down the road, just because. I thought about using the
riding halter but couldn't find it right at hand so settled on the usual
hackamore. Dinner time, horses being shunted into the barn, buckets
rattling and you expect moi to do WHAT? BAD BOY....really bad boy! Snow
sharks notwithstanding, we did just about everything you could think of to
make the jaunt "entertaining". Ten minutes passed, then 20, then
40....Sandy wondered where in the world we had gone, and my loops kept
getting longer and more varied. Bad boy, VERY bad. Have I mentioned that
the corporate ALPO headquarters are almost within riding distance? I was
fully prepared to stay out the entire night---fortunately HE wasn't and as
the chill penetrated my bones, we at last walked politely back to the barn.
He never broke a sweat. I was drenched. Bad boy.
Sunday was better, the persistent cloud cover finally yielding to the sun,
and real warmth could be felt as the ice rapidly liquified into rivers
sluicing down the banks into the low-lying pastures. A quick 20 minutes on
Mr T, some bending, some transitions. Then a fellow trail rider asked if
I'd accompany him on a little ride. Peter has two Labs, wonderful dogs
trained to stay close, who will come along. So, who gets the treat today?
Miss B and Mr T volunteered, Kasey walked away from me, nose in the air, a
snotty-puss look on his face---OK, you're the one, Mister. It only took 10
minutes...
Hardware. The Kimberwicke, until I realized I'd put it on upside down, then
quickly, surreptitiously removed it and grabbed the snaffle already set up
on a bridle. C- in tack for today.
We looked the mini-fox hunt. Peter's two Labs plus Sandy's Lab...all joined
on occasion by the neighbor dogs who would follow for a short distance then
lose interest. Kasey was GOOD, very good! Now aside from the remaining
snow sharks that popped up unexpectedly, we had little to amuse us....until
the tree farm curs. A Shephard and a large, black, fuzzy something
magically appeared on the gravel road, growling low and menacingly. Our
dogs came in close...to protect us, or themselves? Peter's mare saw
something she didn't like, bolted and leapt up a steep bank with Kasey hard
on her heels. Oh no you don't Mister! Safely past, we had all just taken a
deep breath when the mare flushed a pheasant directly underfoot! Straight
up she went! Kasey was mercifully clueless about this new event.
We were out a good long time walking, cantering & trotting. Peter said he
hadn't been out on "so long" a trail ride, ever. His mare was soaked all
along her neck, and once again Kasey never broke a sweat, as we were just
"warming up". Good boy.
But I think I have a convert. Peter mightily enjoyed the ride. His mare is
one of those fabulous TB's who can go forever, bold and forward. Good
company for Kasey, good riding companion for me.
Punxsatawney Phil says an early Spring....this weekend may confirm it.
Life is good....
Diane
Allentown, PA
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