Friday, 12 March 2010
The horses were collectively in a foul mood this morning- it was as though someone had choreographed them into it- “okay she’s here now – so remember; ears back flat to your neck and stick your nose out to make a snake face- ready? Off you go…”
I was greeted with 5 angry snakes, they all stamped and snorted and banged their doors with their hooves. More snake faces were pulled as I put in feeds and changed rugs.
I do wonder sometimes if I have horses as some kind of weird penance for something I did??
Every winter feels like this- the short cold days, endless wheelbarrows, ice, snow, wind, rain and mud.
Ohhh the mud! Thick cloying mud that sucks your wellies off- thin porridge like deep mud that splashes up your jeans and on your face- and worst of all clay mud that sticks to your boots and weighs down your legs- mud on boots- mud on jeans- mud on horse rugs- mud on head collars- mud on (and in) the car- mud on horses (forming impenetrable hard brown beads in their manes- and staining their coats) - mud on buckets, gloves, dogs, carpets you name it!
I make wishes for signs of spring, just a hint of green! Then the mud will then be replaced with huge clouds of horsehair as they moult their grubby winter coats and emerge chrysalis like into the beautiful creatures they can be – for approximately 2 weeks then they start getting their winter coats again. The two weeks – usually sometime in July is glorious- you can sit in the long grass and watch these gorgeous creatures for hours, no mucking out to do, no sweeping, no feeds to make up, not even a lot of grooming needs doing. And for those heavenly 14 days you pay with 50 weeks of looking like something the cat dragged in from one of his less successful hunting trips; hair scraped into a pony tail (it’s practical) mud splashed jodhpurs, muddy boots, jackets and fleeces worn for warmth and definitely not for style, broken dirty fingernails and a vague memory that somewhere you own a make-up bag, but you’re not quite sure where you put it…
Add to this the expense (which MrP graciously accepts) – horses are not cheap creatures to own- and the personal injuries and I do wonder just why I do it.
I guess for those magical moments like when Willow was born and Pebble brought her up the field to show off what she had done, with an over excited Romeo in her wake. For those rare moments of freedom (I will get them this summer I am determined) with the wind in your hair and the floor a blur beneath you- the view always looks a little better viewed between a pricked pair of horse ears. For those special, snugly, nuzzling moments where half a ton of animal shows just how gentle he can be and lays his head against you while you breath in the delicious horsy scents and for the fantastic joy of having a horse see you arrive and whinny as he gallops up the field to greet you.
Today was not one of those days- I fed the snake faces and turned them out into the field as quickly as possible. Pebble (the prettiest pony in the world) is still staying in to give her some respite from the constant demands for milk from Willow. Hopefully we should be able to get a partition up this weekend and she can be completely weaned. She is way too big to be suckling now and poor Pebble is losing condition with her and with the foal which I’m sure I felt kick when I groomed her the other day.
Anyway “The Party” looms another day closer and I am no nearer being ready for it- the stupidmarket beckons – we are out of dog food and milk- and Cairo is demanding a walk.


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