I was in a good mood anyway, as today was the boys' winter violin recital and they did really really well. They were not the most advanced students, but they have really gotten good this year and they were so confident, and their pieces sounded so musical. So it was a good day anyway.
I called to Skye from the van on the way in, but she just barely looked up at me, so I didn't have high hopes. All I wanted to do was see if I could put her new blanket on to see if it would fit.
So I went in the barn and ended up yakking with one of the farriers and Carey, who owns Tall Chestnut and Handsome Nigel, who was getting his new shoes. Finally I grabbed my halter and the infamous apple cookies (so sue me, I ran out of the carrot and oat ones), and headed out to get her. As I crossed over toward the gate, I saw Skye with the herd over on the side. I called to her as always. Her head popped up, she took a good look at me, then sprang into a canter and ran over to the gate to meet me, leaving her herd wondering what was up. It was such a thrill. I'm really glad I have helped feed the herd several times, because I know for sure that this is not how she acts when she is fed. This was for me.
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| This was for me a few days ago. Slower speed though. |
Just three months ago, I was crying in the car on the way back from the Greenway because getting Skye in from the pasture was such a trial. I'd have to walk a long way to get her, push her boyfriend out of the way to get to her, then deal with her balking on the way in. I considered it a victory that she didn't run away and just stood waiting for me to come get her. Another victory if she only stopped a couple of times on the way in. How different it is now. I have to read this blog to remember the last time I had to even walk into the pasture to go get her, as her normal MO is to meet me at the gate. Ahhhh! This is such a big part of why I wanted a horse of my own. What a gift that girl gave me today! The second best early birthday present ever. (The first was finding out I was pregnant with my boys 2 days before my birthday. That's unbeatable, even for Skye.)
She wasn't perfect today though, as she seemed very disconcerted and nervous about the wind. I haven't really noticed it bothering her before, and her unflappable behavior about wind on the first trail ride I took on her was part of what sold me on buying her. But she seemed very nervous, anxious even. So I took her in the round pen to get her focus on me and to get a look at how she is moving. She looked to have a pronounced limp yesterday, even at the walk, which worried me. But she looked better today, even though still limping a little at the trot going counterclockwise. Still, she was pretty resistant, so I just took a couple of deep breaths and I did some of what I call "leading and listening." I lead her in circles, figure eights and serpentines, making her match my speed, stop when I stop and stay the right distance away from me. I breathe really deeply the whole time and talk a little in a low voice, mostly telling her when she is being good. (She definitely knows "good" and "good girl." I can only say "good girl" when I want her to come in, because she clearly thinks that it's time for her forehead rub when I say it. Which is good.) She calmed down immediately. Then I looked over and saw Munchkin wandering around with his grazing muzzle on, looking like a tiny Hannibal Lechter looking for a victim.
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| Don't be scared. It's not Hannibal Lechter. It's just Munchkin. |
I unhooked Skye's lead line and left her in the round pen so I could put Munchie back. No sooner had I disappeared from her view when she lets out a loud whinny. I came back with Munchkin to let them say hello. (Skye was kind of snarky to him though.) Then I went in the other direction so I could put him back with Mistletoe (who was none too pleased about his absence) and the dinkies. Then I went in the barn again and talked for a few minutes when I hear the big whinny again. And she was far from alone. A perfectly nice horse had her head out of a stall not 20 feet away, and Smoke and Ike were not far away in their pasture either. Crazy. So I got back out, and when she sees me, lets out a big sigh. Given that she was so nervous for whatever reason (the wind, her time of the month, who knows?), I opted not to try on the blanket as she would have been sure to dramatize a lot of fear whether she was really afraid or not. So I'll do it tomorrow.
She was a bit snarky on the way out too, trying to graze and being a little pushy, but she didn't ask for cookies and she stayed listening to me. I put her away and loved on her. She wouldn't let Reebok come over to me for about 5 minutes after I let her go. Selfish girl.
When I go back to the barn Munchie was on the loose again! Carey and I found where he was getting out, and did what we could to block his escape hatch with barrels, but he looked like he was already plotting and scheming as we walked away. We told Erin, who laughed and said he feels like a criminal with his horror movie grazing muzzle.
On the way out, I stopped and admired the dinkies, as I always do. I leaned over and really gave Echo a good rub on his withers. I got a great view of his back, right in time for Christmas. Take a gander at that dorsal stripe with the cross. The legend of the donkey's cross says that Jesus rode to Jerusalem on the back of a small donkey. The donkey loved Jesus so much that he wanted to help him bear the cross. Though the donkey was driven away, the shadow of the cross fell upon the donkey's back, and the mark of it remains as a testament to the love and loyalty of the donkey. All I know is that one way or another, I love those dinkies with the crosses on their backs, the stripes on their legs and the solemn gracious way they take a cookie.
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| Donkey cross. Just one more thing to love about the dinkies. |
I had to come home to the mountain range of laundry in my bedroom, and subject myself to yet more homework help, but still this was a diamond of a day.
And one more of the dinkies for good measure.
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| A dinkie or two makes everything better. |
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