I thought I was worn out yesterday? Ha. Today both Apache and I are in recovery mode after trying to do the first in-person Working Horse Central show of the year. Things just kept adding up until I just had to laugh.
So here’s the setup. On Wednesday I was getting ready to ride Apache when his unfortunate lawn mower encounter that scraped us both is occurred. That left him with scrapes and sore muscles and me with bruises and a messed up shoulder.
Then it rained for two days, so no exercise with me, just quick medicine handoffs. During said rain all horses frolicked in mud and debris leaving them various shades of brown.
This morning, I got up extra early so I could try to clean up Apache before leaving for the show, the first show I’d be driving to by myself (Sara couldn’t get away from her new farm duties). I got nicely dressed in my show outfit, put something old over it, and set out to get Apache.
My heart sunk when I arrived at the pens and saw the gate wide open. How did that happen? I would love to blame clever horse lips, but would be remiss if I didn’t point a finger at myself. I do dumb things. So, I turned on the phone flashlight and wandered all over the pasture, calling. No answer. Usually they do respond.
I looked all over our property but found no horses. The sun started to come up. After time ticked away a bit more, I finally texted for help. The nephew and I took the utility vehicle down the road one way, but found no horses. We turned around, and he spotted Mabel’s head. All the horses and Fiona were noshing away on the neighbors’ lawn. Argh.
I waved a food dish at them, but then they mobbed me. Drew was kinda pushy (a lot) so I got back in Hilda the vehicle and the horses followed us home at quite a clip. Don’t let Dusty tell you he can’t canter! And Fiona’s legs were a blur.
After some milling about and stomping, everyone got back in and I haltered Apache. He was even more filthy, sweaty, and damp from fog. Attempting to clean him up proved futile, though much hair was removed. it was time to go, so I loaded his grimy self into the trailer and went to the show, by this time a bit frazzled.
The show wasn’t an unmitigated disaster, but Apache was not himself. He was jumpy, ignored requests to do things and just not all there. However, he wasn’t alone. Most of the horses acted unlike their usual selves and were a bit unruly. I know why Apache was—he missed Aragorn, so he wasn’t happy in the stall, and he was tired from adventuring.
I’m proud of myself, though, because I didn’t let myself get rattled but once, and I handled Apache’s issues calmly. That’s the goal, to work with the horse who shows up on any given day.
Since we all messed up, no one knew who would win any contested division. I was not last in everything! I was second in Trail! Woo hoo. The other two in my group were my zoom friend Andrew and Lee Ann, whose age added to her horse is over 100. Her horse is one of the few who stayed calm. He is a good rider, too. It was great fun competing with them, so I felt great, all things considered.
I made it home thanks to Tarrin’s son helping get the trailer positioned to leave, then tried to rinse Apache off with my broken hose. It didn’t help much.
Next I texted the neighbor that I’d come by tomorrow and scoop up all the “presents” that the horses had left on their perfect, green lawn. She said not to bother, and shared that her husband had thought deer with very large hooves had been eating their deer corn. Oops.
That can’t be good for Apache, and Tarrin confirmed it. He has to wear boots starting tomorrow to nip laminitis in the bud. Geez.
Gosh I hope tomorrow is less eventful!
The Hermits' Rest 