FarmWife and I just wrapped up a lovely little impromptu ride after Mr. J came home unexpectedly early. It was absolutely perfect. In the interest of saving time, we dispensed with my breeching, breastplate, boots, and bridle, going out instead in just a halter and saddle. Bareback riding is all well and good, but FarmWife wanted this opportunity to perfect my understanding (and her use) of of the seat aids, as they would function in full regalia. We went down yonder road and back, working all the while on our walk/halt/walk transitions and our port and starboard navigational systems. FarmWife dropped the reins, such as they were, and she practiced communicating with her butt. This, for the uninitiated, is a more graceful equestrian pursuit than it sounds.
We were only out for thirty minutes, but we saw our friend Bald Eagle standing sentry over the Samish headwaters, and watched the brisk, tumultuous rallying of tonight's rain clouds. We heard, over FarmWife's unquenchable singing, the trilling of a hundred red-winged blackbirds. In the foreground, she serenaded the neighborhood over the steady clip-clop of my unshod hooves: "Oh, Mr. Fenway Bartholomule, I wonder how many people hear me singing to you now. Oh don't you worry, Fenny, I don't mind if they hear, I will sing it loud and clear! Oh Mr. Fenway you're precious and they ought to know. I will sing your praises everywhere we go. There is not a word I've said that isn't true, oh Fenway, I really love you!"*
*Sung to the tune of "Oh Mr. Fenway," as featured on Bent Barrow's youtube channel.
Steering with butt = a great challenge I have yet to master. I believe I have desensitized my great, senseless Percheron to all seat aids. Maybe it's the constant jiggling in that area... Huh...
ReplyDeleteOh, and I LOVE those fish! Please don't change them! Finally, swimming creatures I can't possible kill by over feeding!