Ambar (ambar) wrote,

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the joy of keeping horses at home, redux

An optimist on the DavenportArabs mailing list remarked:
  ALL of the Craver stallions are true gentlemen for that matter! 

To which I had to respond. (The incident I describe happened last week.)

I think I shall print this out and give it to Palisades. Clearly, he missed that bit in the Craver Stallion Training Manual, and needs a refresher.

What am I talking about? Well, let me paint the scene. It's windy as heck, with a storm coming in, and spitting rain, and cold. It's 11:30pm, and I've just gotten home from no end of work and school, and am thinking about nothing more demanding than getting horizontal, when I hear a very familiar noise. It's Palisades sounding off. However, Palisades lives on the east side of the house, and this is coming from the west. From the mares' pasture, to be exact. Uh oh.

A quick look confirms the diagnosis. Palisades is out, somehow, and is tearing up and down the mares' fence line yelling, while the mares use it as an excuse to play stampede up and down the hill. Off I go, with a halter, in the dark. Have I mentioned how big a 14.1" stallion gets, in the dark, when he's running full tilt along a rusty barbed wire fence line with downed oak limbs scattered about?* He was easily twice life size. Secretariat would have been left in the dust. If the mares were going to gallop, so was he.

He did, eventually, consent to be caught, and told me all about what a marvelous time he had as I led him back to his paddock (I apparently left the safety chain off the small gate, my bad). But it was definitely one of those moments (up there with Petit Point demonstrating that she can cross a cattle guard -- which is another story -- ) that forces one to wonder why one isn't boarding one sweet quiet gelding somewhere ELSE.



*This part of the property has not been cleaned up for equine safety, so no one lives there. I hate the barbed wire, but the population pressures inside the mare pasture are low enough that they mostly stay off it. I dream of the day I finish ripping it all out, though.

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