Month: October 2011

Still Got It

BlogRusty

Blogger’s Note: Rusty is a 30-something Quarter Horse who belongs to my mom and lives here at Four Sticks Farm. He is apparently blessed with a Benjamin Button-like ability to grow younger with the passing years, as his age when we brought him home in 2004, was agreed to be 26, but was adjusted to 30 (again) in 2010, due, in equal parts, to physical condition and wishful thinking.

Rusty is a no-nonsense Head of the Herd, a lifelong lesson horse who loves my mom, enjoys toting around her grandchildren, and tolerates me. My mom comes to the barn with her hair nicely coiffed, lipstick artfully applied and an apple sliced in 8 equal wedges packed in a zip lock bag. I inherited none of these tendencies.

I do, however, keep Rusty’s stall clean and his feed bucket filled, so he accepts my presence as a mild, albeit necessary irritation. I am his cross to bear and the price he pays for being Jackie’s horse, but not his mouthpiece. Rusty prefers to tell his own story:

Another weekend spent providing an introductory experience to the Wonderful World of Horses for a couple of first-timers here at Four Sticks Farm – two tiny, cute blondes wearing pink cowboy boots, who were easy on both the eyes and the back.

Jackie was in attendance, looking lovely as always, in sharp contrast to the smudged rumpledness that is her daughter. How the value of a comb and a little lip gloss continues to elude that girl is truly one of life’s great mysteries.

But I’ll give her this – Lisa knows how to surround herself with a quality team. In addition to her mother, this weekend she brought in the niece A-listers, Allie and Anna, to assist. Two more cute blondes I still take great pleasure in trotting around, and who have become competent, compassionate mentors to the young and the horse-crazy.

Despite the daily display of dopiness, it appears that my barn mates have actually paid attention to my instruction in Behavioral Guidelines for Application Around Barn Guests. The portly palomino managed to keep his feet off everyone else’s, and stood still for some brushing from his amateur admirers.

And the big red dork walked and trotted around the arena like a seasoned lesson horse. He even ambled quietly through the trail like he’d done it a hundred times. Which he has, of course, but Lisa’s limited lumbar mobility might make one think otherwise. Fortunately for all concerned, Chicago has the sense to save his Bad Boy outbursts for the one who will (usually) land on her feet and get back in the saddle. Another great mystery, on so many levels, but one best left unsolved.

We were rewarded with a generous supply of hugs, kisses, apples, and, at the risk of sounding immodest, compliments. My eyesight may be fading but my hearing is not, and from her seat in the saddle I heard one little cowgirl say several times, “Rusty is sooo cool.

It’s all good for this old horse’s heart.

Continuing Education

Biskit

I wrote in the spring that Biskit had been enrolled in the Four Sticks Farm School of Equine Etiquette, but failed to mention that he registered for the Nights and Every-Other-Weekend course. The Slow Track for the Uncommitted. If he was a human being, Biskit would spend six or seven years earning a Bachelor’s degree, then decide to move back into his parents’ basement while he pursued a different major.

The Potbellied Palomino has made progress though. He can now be in the crossties with minimal screaming for help (or demanding his release) head tossing, pooping or peeing. May not sound impressive, but when it’s your ears and your head in harm’s way, or when you’re the cleanup crew, these are huge victories.

He will usually pick up a foot when requested, though he’s taken a page from Chicago’s book and has yet to master the art of balancing on the other three, so hoof cleaning sometimes looks a bit like an interpretative dance of the swift and the stalwart. I suspect my farrier spends all I pay him for Biskit and Chicago on chiropractic care. But I don’t want to ask…

And finally, Biskit will now accept a bit in his mouth, usually without a fuss, and he ground-drives in the pasture, the arena and on our wooded trail. Ground-driving looks a little like cart driving, only without the cart. This means he wears long lines attached to his bridle while I hold the other end of the long lines and walk behind him. This also means wherever he walks, I walk – uphill, downhill, through the mud, around the trees – so if Biskit ever enrolls in the full-time course, he and I have a shot at reaching our goal weights.

He seems to enjoy getting out like the Big Boys, though it would be premature to claim he likes having a job. I think he was absent the day they taught “Work Ethic – What is it Good For”.

And though he signed up for the make-up, my guess is he’s holding out hope that it falls on his off-weekend.