saucy_dryad

This Friday past, I went to Argus for horse-time with C. It was cold but clear and so we were determined to ride. I’d intended to ride Boo, but after having received the go-ahead to ride the boys, there was a change of plan. Instead, C. and I took the girls to the ring and chased them for a while that they might work off some energy and get a bit of exercise. After they’d cooled down and been turned back out, we fetched the boys. Those last five words make it seem as if this was but the work of a moment, and yet...

The boys were in the middle of the field. When we reached them, we noticed that Oso was sans halter. A quick look around yielded the sight of Dante’s lovely new halter half frozen in the mud (he was wearing his old one) but no sign at all of Oso’s signature purple. “No problem,” I said, looping the lead line about his neck and securing the clip over the rope. It isn’t as if Oso is a wild steed (outside of his head, at least; in his mind, he’s running the Kentucky Derby in record time and then scoring some serious action with some frisky young fillies. And colts. Oso, in his head, is an equine Captain Jack Harkness. I think it’s why he likes his blue blanket so much - he pretends it’s a military coat. Oso: he’s not just a joust horse, he’s also an adventurer!). What he is, though, is a stubborn old cuss. After three steps, he dug in his heels and refused to go any further. And why should he, when Dante was planted as firmly in place as he? With the help of a surreptitiously placed carrot (close enough so that he could see and smell it, far enough away that he couldn’t snake out his neck and nip it out of my fingers), I encouraged Oso to follow me out of the field, along the path and into the barn.

That’s when it got interesting. There were no empty stalls, so Oso had to go on cross ties. And so the search for a suitable halter began. Here’s the thing: Argus Farm has a few horses, but mostly they deal with ponies. Oso is a horse - a horse with a disproportionately large head. I fed him the carrot (for he had earned it, to be sure) and started assessing the halters hanging from hooks along the aisle. Most of them were too small. A green halter looked as it if might fit - barely - but the metal tip on one of the straps had been flattened just enough that I couldn’t work it through the buckle to open it. Oso, meanwhile, had found a couple of buckets sitting next to the cabinet that holds the grooming and first aid items. One had a bit of ice in it - Oso dismissed that almost at once. The other had held grain at some point, but was, at present, empty. Oso wanted to be sure. He is nothing if not thorough. He yanked against the lead line, straining to cram his entire face into the bucket in his quest for a morsel - a mere grain, even - of oat-y goodness. I tugged back, having spied an old purple halter that might do... only it didn’t have a cheek strap, so if I put him on cross ties wearing that, all he’d have to do is, oh, I don’t know - move his head at ALL and off the halter would come. Then Oso would be in Jeannie’s house, raiding the refrigerator and making long distance phone calls.

Finally, I returned to the green halter and wrestled the damned thing to my will. As I suspected, it barely fit, but it was good enough. I secured Oso, who was still eyeing the empty bucket with ill-concealed hope, grabbed a dressage whip and hurried back out the the field. C. had managed to move Dante a few feet - no small task, as some of you may know - but at the sight of the whip he stepped smartly out. ::Oh! You wanted me to move? Why didn’t you say so?::

In between grooming and picking hooves and tacking up, I fed Oso a handful of baby carrots and scratched beneath his jaw and behind his ears. He responded by licking my hand endlessly, and, when that was unavailable, my wrist and my nose (though that was ‘lipping’ more than licking). Also, he tried to eat my glove.

At last, we were ready to go. We led them to the ring and, for the first time in about eight months, I was up on my boyo. **cue the violins, put gauze over the lens and set loose the turtledoves** Now, I am out of shape (riding-wise as well as generally speaking) and my seat is not what it should be (eight months off will do that), but it was one of the best rides I’ve ever had. Oso is a quirky ride, but I’ve grown so accustomed to him - and he, I think, to me - that we just slipped back into our groove. A bit rough, to be sure, but then I’m never quite satisfied with my own abilities. Yes, you can all make the ‘surprised face’ now. “You’re self-critical? REALLY? Gosh!”

C. rode Dante, and did wonderfully well. He’s in spectacular shape (go,

vampcurse!), and such a fun ride. Speaking of shape, Oso now comes in XXX-Wide. guh. Hopefully, more regular exercise will help, but he’s a long way to go. My thighs can attest to that. Anyway, we were going to try the trail, but the thaw-rain-freeze cycle of the past few days had turned our route into an ice slick. Ring work was fine, though; I need to wake these muscles up! Oso was perky, and I was so happy I thought I might burst into tears. Or song. I did neither, but I did smile like a big ol’ dope for the rest of the day.