Making Tracks

Lest you come away with the impression that I am always a distinguished English gentleman, let me assure you there is still a bit of the dickens in me. I am a little cold backed, and have been known to crow hop down the first 100 feet of the driveway now and then. I usually have composed myself by the time we get to the main driveway, and always start our rides very relaxed and well mannered. Today when Brita mounted in front of the barn, she got a little cocky, and walked me off before she had her right stirrup. Now, my rider is not always the most coordinated of people, and she was having a hard time catching that right stirrup, so she thought it might be OK to take one hand off the reins and reach down and turn it. Well... I took advantage of the situation, quickly slipped into third gear and began to bound like a jack rabbit down the driveway. My little white ears stood up straight and twisted (like little devil horns) and I was getting some pretty good air. Brita gave up the notion of finding that stirrup and sat up straight. You know those one rein stops? Well, they work. Brita put her right hand back up on my neck, and pulled the left rein back to her hip, setting me on my rear. I even left skid marks.

Mom was predictably horrified at my behavior and suggested I go back inside and do some work in the round pen to remember my manners. But, Brita just laughed it off. She's a pretty good sport about these things, as long as she comes out on top. She just pointed me towards the pasture, and gave me my head. I sauntered off like the whole episode never happened, and butter wouldn't melt in my mouth.

We have been exploring the big cow pasture. Brita (and Uncle Dad) hope that I will be able to be turned loose out there this fall with the other horses, so we have been getting me familiarised with it. It's pretty big, 20 or more acres, and has rolling hills, shady trees, two ponds, a forest, and ravine and a beautiful view. The bad parts are that up by the barn it is ankle deep in wet, black mud....and a Giant Rock Troll lives on the hill. I'll have to get a picture sometime of the Giant Rock Troll. It's bigger than I am an lurks out on the hill where it can see victims coming from miles away. When I startle, I am very good about jumping in place and then checking things out. However, once I've identified an enemy, my vote is always for turning and high tailing it for home. I almost ran home from the Rock Troll today, but instead gave it a wide berth and checked it out from every angle. I was so unnerved, my heart was pounding so I thought it would break my girth. It's a really big bugger, but I'm pretty sure I can out run it.

All in all we had a nice ride. It's very pleasant being out in the pasture with the sun and fresh grass, and the cornfield whispering secrets in the breeze. I think I am going to like the pasture.