Houston, We Have A Cow
The ropers finally brought their steers to the barn.
Ro… would like someone to remove those things from her property, thank you very much. They look funny and they smell. She’s not in to that.
She spent some time today turned out near them and then right next to them. She’s not entirely relaxed about them, but she’s not being stupid, either.
I also took her over and let her hang out by the arena while they worked the steers. For the most part, she was interested but suspicious. She hadn’t seen them eat a horse yet, but there was still time. At least she was willing to walk right up to them and check them out, which was more than she was doing in the paddock.
She was pretty blase about the whole explode-from-the-chute, ropers and steers galloping across the arena thing. As far as she was concerned, that was happening over there and there was grass right here.
But when they walked the cows back through the chute to get them back to the holding pen (or whatever this is all called—it’s not like I have a clue), Ro tried her best to convince me that we really ought to run away. Right. Now. If not sooner.
I think it’s safe to say she’s pretty intimidated by the steers walking towards her. I was impressed with her, though—a year ago, she would have bolted and not stopped until she reached the next county. While she was as tense and on the verge of exploding as I have seen her in a long time, she only backed up and circled around me—no attempting to run, no crowding my space.
As soon as the cows passed in front of her, she was willing to walk up to them again and followed behind them with minimal coaxing. She’s not confident it’s a good idea, but she’s willing to try it out and see.
So, we’ll see how this goes. I do think she’s going to like herding them, especially once we get in the arena and she realizes they will move away from her. And I think that she’ll settle in pretty quickly and not worry so much when they walk towards her—right now, she just doesn’t know what they are or what to expect from them.
I’m excited. We have steers. We’re gonna chase ‘em (at a walk, but whatever—we’re gonna chase ‘em).
Um. Once I get a saddle and get her legged up. Minor details, really.
The Irish Dealer and the Wrong Customer
By William Phillpotts Williams (1860-1916)
An' bedad! I'm glad I've met you,
For you see I don't forget you,
Sure I've brought the horse from Oirland for yer honour by the ship,
He was bred in ould Kilkenny,
An' I'll lay yer my last penny
That he'll go from night till morning without asking for the whip.
Tired! no; the man who sould him
Said you've only got to hould him
An' he'd wear your breeches threadbare e're he'd ask you for a halt;
Come, sir, take him an' be lanient,
You can pay me when convanient,
Them that's bred and reared in England never will be worth their salt.
'Twas the blind man saw him walking,
An' the dumb man started talking
When he passed me, an' he tould me he was worth his weight in gould.
"Whisht!" the deaf man said, "you're joking,
"I can hear the fun you're poking,
"Sure the eighty Irish members could not buy him, so I'm tould."
'Twas last week in Dublin city,
Don't ye know it? more's the pity,
Well I lunched with Mister Morley off a leg of roasted pork,
He was on his best behaviour,
An' he begged me as a favour
Av I'd spare him half an hour for a confidential talk.
"Pat," he said, "you know my feelings,
"How I tries for pleasant dealings
"With the boys that form the cabinet there in mighty London town,
"Arrah! now, I'll not evict you,
"An' I'll see they don't convict you
"When you're short of rint next quarter, av you'll let me buy the brown.
"For, ye see, there's Asquith seeking
"For a nag, I heard him speaking
"To his wife about a hunter down at Spencer's in the shires,
"An' I thought I might present it
"From myself, you'll not repent it,
"For they're dacent kind of people, an' it's blood that she requires.
"An' besides, there's many measures
"That the liberal party treasures,
"Av the boys will pull together we shall prosper in the end;
"So I ask for your assistance,
"An' we will not mind resistance,
"Pat," he spoke with great emotion, "you will not refuse a friend."
"Mister Morley," I repeated,
"Don't get up," I said, " be seated,
"Is the case so very pressing?" "Divil 'a lie," said honest John;
Then I said yer honour 'd buy him,
"Well," he said, "then let him try him,
"Av he don't, then I must have him, but ye must not keep me long."
What! the horse belonged to you, sor?
An' my statements are not true, sor?
He was bred down here in Wiltshire an' ye know the very farm!
Lame behind, and cribs and whistles?
Is not worth a feed of thistles?
Well, ye see, sor, it's this way, sor, now I'll tell ye; pray be calm.
Now my father was a man, sor,
Av ye doubt my word, ye can, sor,
With a janius for invention, an' my mother was the same,
So ye see it's handed down, sor,
An' has brought us much renown, sor,
Like our ancestors before us an' the stock from whence we came.
Arrah! now, yer honour's laughing,
Faix! I see you're fond of chaffing,
It's the smile that makes us handsome an' I see ye know the way.
Well, I'm mighty plazed we've met, sor,
It's yourself I'll not forget, sor,
Shake my hand; good afternoon, sor, we will deal another day.
——————————————————————-
William Phillpotts Williams published several books of poetry primarily about horses and particularly about the hunt. He is not one of the most talented writers of his time, nor do his poems deal with ground-breaking subjects—limitations of his writing the he acknowledges in his introductions—but many of his poems show an honest enjoyment of horses and the people who handle them.
A Horse’s Epitaph
By Robert Lowe (1811-1892)
Soft lies the turf on these who find their rest
Beneath our common mother’s ample breast,
Unstained by meanness, avarice, or pride;
They never cheated, and they never lied.
They ne’er intrigued a rival to displace;
They ran, but never betted on the race;
Content with harmless sports and simple food,
Boundless in faith, and love, and gratitude;
Happy the man, if there be any such—
Of whom his epitaph can say as much.
———————————————————————————————————————-
Robert Lowe was born in England. He did well in school and was establishing himself as a successful academic when his eyesight began to deteriorate. He moved to Australia in 1841 and quickly became involved in politics and a legal practice. In 1850 he returned to England, where he continued his political career.
Time for a Vacation
I’ve decided that, what with one thing and another, Ro and I are taking December off. I’ll start legging her back up in January sometime.
In the meantime, to keep things a little interesting here, I’m going to try to do a poem a day in December. These will be poems and articles and other generally horse-related nuggets I come across. This is all related to that literary site I’m perpetually working on.
So, if the idea of a poem a day bores you to tears, come back in January. Otherwise, I’m using the next ten days to start preparing entries, and I’ll be spending December tossing out whatever tidbits catch my attention.
The Curse Strikes Again
Last week, I was standing in the barn morosely going over Ro when another boarder stopped and asked me what was wrong.
“She’s off,” I said.
Without pausing, the boarder asked, “Did you enter her in a show again?”
Sigh.
My show luck (or lack of luck) has reached epic status.
And for the record, I did enter her in a show.
Except this time, I really thought I had the universe fooled. I told everyone we were done with show attempts this year. Everyone. If you didn’t get the memo yet, the post office is probably just overburdened. It’s on its way.
Then I went home, shut myself up in a dark closet where even the cats couldn’t see me, and filled out my entry forms. I decided I wouldn’t even tell my friend who was going to come with me and keep me sane. I’d just go and announce our awesome scores later.
My plan was foolproof, but it turns out the universe is no fool.
And so, as I said, last week Ro came up… off. Not head-bobbing lame, but definitely not sound.
I watched her for three days, but there was no significant change. So - no show for us. Again.
I had the vet out last week, and the exam showed something a little unexpected (although it explains some things in retrospect). I decided to hold off on taking action until I got Ro to the chiro (which happened yesterday) and I could get a saddle fitter out (this coming weekend). At that point, she’ll have had two weeks off work as well.
At that point, we’ll reevaluate and decide whether chiro/saddle/riding approach will be enough to manage the issue that came up in the vet exam or if we need to get more aggressive.
Right now, I am feeling optimistic. I think Ro has had an awful schedule all year, going in and out of work because of the sinus issue. She’s only been back in a regular program for a couple months, and during that time we’ve found a whole near gear in her gait box. I’m hoping what we’re seeing is that I asked for too much, too soon and she’s just body sore.
And in the meantime, I can state definitely, unequivocally, no sneaky-tricks-up-my-sleeve-ly: we will not be attempting to show again this year.
We are clearly cursed. I mean, there’s such a thing as being unlucky at shows, but we can’t even get to a show.
Maybe I need to burn an omnibus or something, exorcise the bad luck demons. Too bad we’re still under a burn ban. Deleting the file from my computer just doesn’t have the same emotional cleansing effect.