My horse is an odd duck
Fin, it turns out, is a delicate flower who does not grow much of a winter coat and has to be blanketed in temps under 50 or so.
The up side to this, I guess, is that I may not even notice when he finally sheds out his winter coat, since he doesn’t appear to have one.
This last week has been beautiful, and he got a reprieve from wearing his blanket. But with temps dropping down into the 40s and 50s this week, I went out to the barn to throw a blanket on him.
He’s out in a 5 acre field, and thanks to all the rain we’ve had recently, it’s currently bisected by a ditch full of water.
Since he crosses water just fine when he’s not under saddle or on the end of the lead rope, I knew that wasn’t the end of the world—he sometimes needs to be convinced to come up to the gate rather than making me tromp after him, but his pasture mates are pretty reliable at coming up to see who’s at the gate and what they want. Fin will follow along behind them, if only to make sure someone isn’t bringing extra food that he could be eating.
Still, it can be annoying to stand out there for five minutes calling the horses in and waiting for one of them to wander my way. Especially when I forget to bring my wellies and have no choice but to wait for them to come in. Well, I suppose getting soaked in the ditch is a possibility, but not for something as non-critical as putting a blanket on Fin.
So I was happy when the horses all galloped in as soon as they saw me, and I was even happier when I realized Fin was in the lead. Hey! He now recognizes me as a Lady Who Feeds, and he comes running for that. (Delicate Flower is getting extra feed right now, due to the cold—for Texas—weather and his apparent extreme Delicate Flower-ness.)
I brought him in, put him in the round pen, gave him his extra feed, and puttered around a bit while he ate.
Then I went to catch him.
I went to catch the horse who had galloped up to me from the far end of a 5 acre field, crossing the Dreaded Water in the process, and who was now standing in a 50’ round pen.
Fin tried to play the “you can’t catch me” game. In a round pen. After galloping up to me in a 5 acre field.
Fortunately, it turns out that if you stare at him in disbelief and ask him “What are you doing, dork?” he will stop and give you a sheepish look and allow himself to be caught.
I know I should be glad things played out the way they did, because I would not have gone chasing after him in the field, but still. He’s an odd duck. I like him, but he is a very odd duck.
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