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Aug. 6th, 2006 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickI didn't accomplish a whole lot today. It was kind of hot so I didn't go out of the house until after about 3 PM.
I would have liked to play on the boat because there was wind at mid-day, but the summer people were still busy doing their summer people thing (it was Sportsman's Weekend or some such foolishness so they were out in force) and they and their fat, suburban grandchildren were clogging up the beach so that there wasn't any room for me to play with my boat. I can play with my boat another day. There will always be more wind.
Instead of playing with the boat, I went over to harass the IRH following yesterday's rather annoying lack o' success. Evil horse. Unfortunately, when I got there, I was somehow talked into working with a seven year old grey gelding that Liss traded for. He's a Sierra/Juarez baby, sort of a boomerang horse because Liss sold him once (as a baby) and now she's got him back. He's a half brother to the IRH (both sired by Juarez) and related to Meatly on the other side -- he's a Fash grandson and Meatly is a Fash granddaughter via different mares. Anyway, allegedly he stomples women in the field. Terrorizes them, I'm told. Horse is insane with hatred for women. He's crazy bad. Mmm-hmm, and I get picked to work with him why?
Don't even bother to ask. It's obviously not because I'm any good at it -- otherwise I would have a RIDEABLE red horse instead of one that tries to kill me. Laur was working on her floor and Trys was away doing something at Lake Raystown -- probably mucking about with boats, if the truth were known.
And so I go into the field to catch this grey gelding whose name I don't know. He was standing in the barn with the rest of the high-level horses (Low totem-pole horses have to stand outside in the sun or under conveniently located trees. High-ranking horses get the deep shade inside the barn.) and he was a gentleman to be caught. He stood like a quite sane horse while I changed his web halter for a rope one. (Rope halters have way more control and finesse because they're thin and bite-y rope instead of comfy, wide webbing that horses can ignore in comfort.) He led politely out of the field though he didn't know how to work a gate. We'll work on that this week because I like it when horses can work a gate. It's one of those gifts that keeps on giving. He didn't have any idea what the hell I wanted him to do, but he was polite about not knowing and picked it up pretty quickly.
His entire attitude was fairly pleasant, patient, and easygoing. He's smart, as horses go, and he's able to pay attention to the person instead of being so damn distracted by the environment that learning is nearly impossible. (Nick, I'm talking to you.) He's nonreactive and *thinks* when he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't get frustrated or angry very fast. He's been handled and isn't obviously body-shy anywhere. He doesn't seem to kick. I didn't try picking up the feet today so I don't know about that yet. He has a pretty decent attention span for a green horse. Didn't I say he was seven? Yes. He's seven and not broke to ride. (Horses should be started at three or four.) No, I don't know what's up with that. Apparently the people who had him did the groundwork and then just chickened out or something. Nobody really knows. I'm re-doing the groundwork this week to make sure that he has some idea of what is going on and we're going to throw someone (not me) on him this weekend.
Anyway, after an hour or so of very polite and relaxed learning, I put the grey gelding back in the field and chased Nick around the field for about forty-five minutes until she let me catch her. I took her out of the field and fed her half a can of grain and brushed her. Then I put her back in the field. We'll try again tomorrow... with the grey gelding and with the IRH.
I would have liked to play on the boat because there was wind at mid-day, but the summer people were still busy doing their summer people thing (it was Sportsman's Weekend or some such foolishness so they were out in force) and they and their fat, suburban grandchildren were clogging up the beach so that there wasn't any room for me to play with my boat. I can play with my boat another day. There will always be more wind.
Instead of playing with the boat, I went over to harass the IRH following yesterday's rather annoying lack o' success. Evil horse. Unfortunately, when I got there, I was somehow talked into working with a seven year old grey gelding that Liss traded for. He's a Sierra/Juarez baby, sort of a boomerang horse because Liss sold him once (as a baby) and now she's got him back. He's a half brother to the IRH (both sired by Juarez) and related to Meatly on the other side -- he's a Fash grandson and Meatly is a Fash granddaughter via different mares. Anyway, allegedly he stomples women in the field. Terrorizes them, I'm told. Horse is insane with hatred for women. He's crazy bad. Mmm-hmm, and I get picked to work with him why?
Don't even bother to ask. It's obviously not because I'm any good at it -- otherwise I would have a RIDEABLE red horse instead of one that tries to kill me. Laur was working on her floor and Trys was away doing something at Lake Raystown -- probably mucking about with boats, if the truth were known.
And so I go into the field to catch this grey gelding whose name I don't know. He was standing in the barn with the rest of the high-level horses (Low totem-pole horses have to stand outside in the sun or under conveniently located trees. High-ranking horses get the deep shade inside the barn.) and he was a gentleman to be caught. He stood like a quite sane horse while I changed his web halter for a rope one. (Rope halters have way more control and finesse because they're thin and bite-y rope instead of comfy, wide webbing that horses can ignore in comfort.) He led politely out of the field though he didn't know how to work a gate. We'll work on that this week because I like it when horses can work a gate. It's one of those gifts that keeps on giving. He didn't have any idea what the hell I wanted him to do, but he was polite about not knowing and picked it up pretty quickly.
His entire attitude was fairly pleasant, patient, and easygoing. He's smart, as horses go, and he's able to pay attention to the person instead of being so damn distracted by the environment that learning is nearly impossible. (Nick, I'm talking to you.) He's nonreactive and *thinks* when he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't get frustrated or angry very fast. He's been handled and isn't obviously body-shy anywhere. He doesn't seem to kick. I didn't try picking up the feet today so I don't know about that yet. He has a pretty decent attention span for a green horse. Didn't I say he was seven? Yes. He's seven and not broke to ride. (Horses should be started at three or four.) No, I don't know what's up with that. Apparently the people who had him did the groundwork and then just chickened out or something. Nobody really knows. I'm re-doing the groundwork this week to make sure that he has some idea of what is going on and we're going to throw someone (not me) on him this weekend.
Anyway, after an hour or so of very polite and relaxed learning, I put the grey gelding back in the field and chased Nick around the field for about forty-five minutes until she let me catch her. I took her out of the field and fed her half a can of grain and brushed her. Then I put her back in the field. We'll try again tomorrow... with the grey gelding and with the IRH.
