Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Short horses


Why is it, that as a woman of substantial bone structure (what I mean is, I'm not skinny) who stands five foot ten (optimistically), I so dig short horses? I yearn to own a Halflinger or an Icelandic the way most horsewomen I know fantasize about a Friesian or a gorgeous warmblood of some high-dollar variety. I am not particularly worried about riding big horses. Yeah, there's a bit more airspace between your tail and the trail, but it isn't the gravity so much as the ground that gets you. I definitely look better on big horses.

I think I've just had good luck with most of the ponies and shorties I've ridden. I am possibly more likely to stick the dumb stuff because I'm not as worried about the aforementioned gravity— I'm sure that's a heavy piece of subconscious lurking around in my brain. I like their pluck and I like the ones that don't give a hoot about their height and will smash up a much bulkier full-sized horse without so much as a blink. Bandit is really quite tiny when you scrutinize him. Most of his papers say he's 15 hands, but I would guess 14.3 is a little more on track. He is not heavy boned but fairly stout and quite fit at the minute, so I don't think I look utterly ridiculous.

One of my favorite mounts at my old camp was named Mao Mao. Mao Mao was an Icelandic / pony / somethin-somethin'. I looked ridiculous on Mao Mao. I would have probably made an attempt to buy Mao Mao if I thought I was going to continue riding, because Mao Mao could carry any old sunofabuck on his back and was an absolute champ. Mao Mao was an asshole, frankly, as the cherry on top. And I loved him. Still do. See him in a pasture not too far away.


All that said, Pax is towering and I'm concerned I forgot that.. Whoops, I prefer short horses. I finally took some scissors and luck to her mane and said goodbye to the chunks that were still long and beautiful. Our new fence is supposed to be in before summer, and we have replaced all of our roundbale feeders— some with this great, high-density plastic kind. So hopefully once her mane grows back again, she can be Belgian Repunzel for longer and won't snag it all out.

Anyway, the seed behind this entire post is the first picture up top there. My dear friend Tiff drove up from San Antonio today to ride horses and shoot the breeze, and after a fairly successful arena adventure on little Indigo (only our second ride in there, actually) we decided to see how things went out in the open. I've ponied and packed him around some of our trails without any fireworks at all, and today was no different. He rolled with the punches and followed in a relatively well-mannered way. Occasionally he leans into the bit and tries to plow horse through a request, but he is quick to remember who the boss lady is. I have brought along some kind of whip on our last few rides (the dressage whip has worked the best) and he sometimes requires a cluck-squeeze-tap-TAP! reminder to, y'know, actually move forward. But really, he is doing great. As of April or May, he will be three. And yeah, you can watch YouTube clips of futurity horses doing ridiculously advanced things at his age.. But this is my first horse started all on my own, and he wasn't exactly imprinted at birth. So I think we're doing pretty well. It's mostly by his good graces!

In less positive news, Bandit and I are staying home this weekend. He appears to be recovering from a soft tissue injury of the minor variety. Vet took x-rays and, while he looks 100% sound, it isn't worth the cost or the risk to haul him to Oklahoma. The good news is, for being an old fart with bad breeding, Bandit's joints are in excellent shape. Will do my very best to get to the Wimberly Wayfarer in May.

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Any and all commentary is appreciated! —MA