Clover and I are becoming friends.
She is the morgan mare re-routed from the slaughter truck 10 weeks ago with her boy Cooper. She is a bit of a challenge, but in fairness she would probably say the same of me, being a human. So we have been progressing slowly. As long as we have been moving ‘forward’, I’ve considered this good.
Recently Clover and her boy switched fields, to the smaller one below, to start meeting other horses over the fence. Her ‘scary face’ has softened a touch over the past week, and we have begun letting the rest of the band in with the pair, in their field, bit by bit. Minor scuffles, which is excellent. No injuries. Separate. Repeat. Bit by bit, they have been joining the band.
Yesterday they were allowed out into the big field. Clover was quite excited about the amount of new space to run and stretch her legs. But this field was accessed first by a hill and Clover proved not exactly the most graceful or elegant creature on a hill. Either she is pregnant, with her belly throwing her off, or she has perhaps, never been released onto hills. We have had many horses that have never seen natural running water, maybe Clover was a broodmare in some small boring flat field (read ‘what I used to think horses needed’).
So Clover stumbled and slid and managed the hill. But not the water. That same tiny little creek that stumped Comet just a few days ago, now proved an impassable barrier for the morgan pair. Early this evening, we opened up the neighbors field, tall with yummy grasses, and the horses lit up and rushed the gates like a crowd of housewives midnight on Black Friday at a Target store. But missing from the herd were the morgans. I found them up top, sulking in the pole barn. Clover nickered to me (she talks to me a lot now) and I got out a tiny amount of grain to work on her front feet (I am trimming them now, at liberty, bit by bit). I talked to her about coming below, telling her that she could do this. After her snack and mini-pedicure was done, I grabbed a lead rope and slung it around her neck. “C’mon sweets, let’s go below”, and she willingly moved out beside me.
Together, with Cooper following us, we crossed along the hilly ridge, and cut down towards the water. She paused a bit, and I waited, and then we continued down. When we got there, I slid the rope off and hopped across myself, and turned to look at her. “C’mon, it’s a tiny hop, you can do it”. She truly wanted to. She watched carefully and I hopped back over and back again. I don’t think she had ever been across water before. From a littler higher up, Cooper watched to see what momma would do. The other horses, 100 feet farther, were face deep in luscious grasses. She wanted those grasses!
Clover trotted along the water a bit, and then turned back, looking for a better way across. I hopped back across, encouraging her. It was so interesting to me how intently she watched and how clearly she wanted to. Another three times I hopped over to her, petting and encouraging, but I did not want to use the rope to pull her, it had to be her decision. She was crouching back now, readying herself, and then POP! She cleared the stream clumsily, but with room to spare. “Yay!” I cheered her victory and she trotted out to the green pasture….But wait! Cooper wasn’t across yet! He whinnied and she turned around. But Cooper is young and strong and came down to the water’s edge, hesitated, and clearly it easily. Together again, proud and happy, they trotted out to join the others for a sunset graze.

These posts should really be called, ‘How I goofed again’.
We had visitors today to look at the horses, possibly adopt one. A storm was casting intermittent rain upon us as we stood near the pole barn, and the herd was wandering down off the hill. But something was amiss; Finn was casting about, calling, and the herd was restless; Molly was not among them. I scanned the hills and fields but saw no sign of her deep black coat. Finn kept glancing up the path, towards the main gate that leads to the road. ‘Oh no’, I thought, ‘she didn’t get OUT, did she?’. I followed Finn has he headed up the path, but halfway, he turned right, up the ramp, into the old barn. The old, falling down barn that is used for hay storage only. The hay storage that was largely depleted, but where we had recently stashed over 100 bales of choice second cut. To save for a rainy day.
Yes, Molly had decided that today was that rainy day.
Inside, the big open space had been transformed to a loft party of sorts, with hay strewn everywhere, and horses having a ball.There was Rita, and Jack, and Kee and in the back, our little donkey Basil, who has inserted himself into the senior band by virtue of tenacity. And in the middle was Molly, planted in front of the formerly neat pile of rich pickings. I had to laugh. But Finn’s face was the best; stood beside me, astonished that the ‘Equus Baccanalius’ had partied without him.
Of course, I had to get them out. I circled around, and they knew what was coming; I swear I heard someone mumble ‘buzz kill’ as I herded them out of the party room. All the horses wandered without issue, too full to care, and down the hill to join the rest of the gang. I locked the door up well, because this would not have happened had I not left it OPEN…and then walked down to find my smiling guests. “Are you ok?” I ask, “I just had to get the horses out of the hay loft”…”We know” they laughed back, “As soon as you headed up the path, Molly stuck her head out of the window above us and looked down (Molly was one story above them) She was still chewing! We wondered if she was supposed to be in there”…
Thus Molly’s reputation for impishness, and mine for forgetfulness, grows.

Yesterday, Comet found himself on the wrong side of water.
Not the brook, but the tiny little stream flowing through the field.

Blitzen has already learned to jump it, but Comet always take awhile longer to learn new things. Somehow he got across. Now he was stuck. He whinnied and whinnied and I tried to help him, but to no avail. Comet was stubborn and scared, and I wanted him to figure it out. Last night Comet stayed out in the field, with other horses, but they would come and go, he was too afraid.

Now 24 hours later, and I worried that we had a brewing problem. I called Dan; would he help? Dan thought that Comet was stuck over the 20′ wide brook, and came right away. When he saw the 4″ deep, 2′ wide stream, he laughed and laughed. Together, me at Comet’s head and Dan using a butt rope, we coaxed and pulled Comet to the edge, where his brave brother had just jumped across. The pressure from behind was too much, Comet had to go; he gathered himself and suddenly stretched straight up, hooves high in the air, like Superman, hovering there for a second, and then Hopped! More like a kangaroo then a horse, hopped on his hind legs, and landed SPLASH right into the mud and water! In shock and awe he scrambled to the other side, embarrassed and confused; But he was over, and amidst our laughter and congratulatory hugs to the little guy, he finally crossed the water.
Love afternoons like these….