what a nice horse. she carried the whip in her left hand and used it often. he was a bit dead on that side. was that his sore hind then or the other? they'd lunged only to the right for 5 minutes at walk and halt before getting started on the ride. it was his worst transition, the worst way, on a dead-as-a-doornail-hot day. she used her dressage whip as a lunge whip. the ripple on the line worked to move him out, thou he thought it was going to be a yank.
before grooming the old guy she'd walked the fence line and found an impassable pile of logs. a trail needed to be forced around that. and it needed to be filled in. as a jump? the bugs were TERRIBLE in the forest on the humid, dark day. she also found barbed wire on the ground, rusty and old. she used it to reinforce where the fence was sagging. the part that had been built up with logs and twigs and branches. she added to that with that as well.
even with a friendly qualified supervisor killing time in the ring she didn't want to jump. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HER?
he was the only sensible horse on the property when the trailer hoopla happened. all the geldings went running and bucking like hooligans! she brought him to a halt near stone's gate accusing, "you of all people, to be carrying on like this" people. her little buddy didn't mind the boomwackers either. she was keeping a dressage test in the car for next ride.
she managed to get the little guy's too big leather halter opened on one side, and had left it softening to try again tomorrow. she should be able to shrink it two holes but the noseband needed a punch. his fly mask had been in the mud where he'd rolled it off.
"stone, i get blisters every summer when i first wear my sandals buddy, your face is just going to have to toughen up." she felt bad for the raw spot his new halter had rubbed.
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