Booored horses

All the snow and ice has translated to ice and mud, which tells me that winter has finally reached the south. The driveways and shady areas have these nasty icey spots and almost everywhere else is soft slippery mud. Between that and all the holiday travel, I was greeted by 5 very bored horses who were ecstatic to see me.

They showed it differently. Wellie and Thornton went out of their way to say hi. Charlie stood earnestly at the gate watching my every move, and Maverick galloped around screaming. I love those colts, they are hilariously different.


Midas came when called. Walked right up to me out in the big field. I had brought along a rope, but I don't think I would have needed it to get him to follow me back to the barn--it wasn't even dinner time. That mythical time in the future when I wouldn't need a halter or rope to catch him came sooner than I thought! We'll see if that carries over to the hot weather!


I scrubbed the mud off his head and then took him out for a walk (in hand--translation, I was leading him, rather than riding, which is called under saddle) to check out the footing and see something other than the pasture. The footing was horrible. We slipped on the ice a couple times (nothing major) and then made it out to the lower field behind the pine trees which generally has good footing. It does, but I still wouldn't want to work too hard there lest we pound it into bad footing. Winter riding is officially here, I guess.


Midas grazed and I stood and watched while listening to Maverick hyperventilate back at the pasture. Eventually I decided it was time for Mav to have a turn and brought Midas in. He wasn't happy about going in--IE back out to his enormous pasture where he's been for days--but he took it manfully. Mav was very glad to be next, and pranced around impatiently when we headed out. I lectured him about paying attention to where he put his feet and listening to me when I told him things (like how we were not going to tear up the yard, tsk). Once we got to the field he settled right in to stuffing his face, and nestled close when I patted his neck. When it was time to go we got two steps before he stopped, tossed his head and stamped his forehoof forcefully "I don' wanna go back!"  Tsk, Mav, you already ate up the time I might have given to Charlie. So scolded, he came along obediently.

Such a little kid. He really is 5 years old.