The
Bold and the Brayful
by
Fenway Bartholomule
Reprinted with permission from the BRAYER: the magazine of the American Donkey and Mule Society.
Not
Old, Just Bored
My
FarmWife has owned me for nearly two years now, but the story I have
to tell took place late in our first summer together. We were just
getting to know one another, and starting to have some really great
adventures. All was well.
My
FarmWife and I had that habit, at that time, of riding up our
neighborhood logging road to access the many hundreds of acres of
roads and trails that grace our local hillsides. In the Autumn of
2009, the landowners resurfaced the road with huge, jagged
rock—"gravel," perhaps, but gravel that makes normal
crushed rock look like powdered sugar by comparison. Our trail
riding, at least for a while, was sharply limited.
FarmWife
kept riding, and I kept behaving. We rode at a walk down the paved
lanes of our rural neighborhood, as FarmWife was raised to believe
that speed work on concrete is harmful to equine health. We made laps
around our one acre pasture, digging large ovals into the thin sod.
We trotted hither. We cantered thither. We strolled. We sauntered. We
ambled. With questionable footing, however, the pasture was not good
for serious dressage work. FarmWife hesitated to ask me for more
impulsion or focus on the slick clay earth, and we didn't experiment
much with novelty skills. It was exercise, but it was not interesting
exercise.
By
the second or third week of this business, I was sick of the grind. I
got stiff, I got sullen, and I got hollow and sour. I gritted my
teeth. I acted girthy. I was not having a whole lot of fun, and
FarmWife could tell.
FarmWife's
thoughts immediately turned to physical explanations, and she
examined me with new concern. Was I, at 14, starting to develop
arthritis? Was I suffering from poor saddle fit, or did I need a
different type of snaffle? Were my knees bothering me, or was it my
hocks? Was it my back that was hurting?
FarmWife
saved up her pennies and bought me an open cell foam saddle pad. She
bought me a chafeless girth. She consulted with a saddle fitter. She
tried a few bits.
And
then, one magical day, I found a way to tell her what I wanted. As we
trotted past a rotting log that had lain in our pasture for some
time, I locked my sights upon it. In the opposite of typical
disobedience, I veered towards the obstacle. "FarmWife," I
told her, "I think I'd like to jump."
We
popped over the log, and then came back for a cantering pass. I was
in heaven! Noble ears pricked and hooves flashing, I was inspired. I
moved like a youthful athlete, ready for anything. FarmWife could
feel the transformation, and with it came the relief of her worry. I
was well, she realized. I was well! How could she have missed it? The
signs all pointed to one thing, and she couldn't believe she hadn't
realized earlier. Since the restriction of our trail access, I had
grown bored.
We
jumped that log and a couple more, and by the end of the ride I had a
new spring in my step that FarmWife hadn't felt in weeks. I stopped
dragging, and FarmWife stopped nagging. She could see that I was
bored with the same tired circuit of the pasture, and she resolved to
change it.
FarmWife
bought me Easy Boots that month, and with my hooves protected we were
able to head up the logging road again. Finally understanding my need
for variety, FarmWife started mixing things up. A bareback ride here,
a river-wade there. A jump thrown in this day, a gallop on that day.
FarmWife can feel the eagerness with which I move, now, and she can
tell when I'm enjoying myself. I enjoy a ride best when I can see
something new, do something different, or go somewhere interesting.
Luckily for her, FarmWife likes those rides, too.
My
your
trails be scenic, and your every experience fresh.
Ears
to you,
Fenway
Bartholomule
Well done in training your human! I can only hope to be half as receptive to what Max would like to tell me.
ReplyDeletehttp://theotherhorse.blogspot.com
Uh Oh.....wonder if my horse wants to jump? She always jumps WAY higher than the obstacle and so has me a little timid to try again. Any advice FB?
ReplyDeleteKD . . . cavalletti, gymnastics, small crossrails . . . these are my tips. Keep her thinking about the second or third little jump in the series and she'll forget to overjump the first!
ReplyDeleteAnd Sharon, your Max is BEAUTIFUL!
ReplyDeleteAwwh, thanks! I think so too.
ReplyDeleteAnd we all know FB is the handsomest mule in the world.
You're lucky your human pays such close attention to your wishes. :)
ReplyDelete