April, 2010
It's been a long winter. Autumn culminated with the Farm's annual Halloween Show. Archie patiently agreed to four year old Aquinnah's request to parade out in front of friends and strangers for the costume class. Aquinnah was a Panda Bear and Archie looked suspiciously like a Harem Girl, but they took first prize, even though Archie's skirt fell off.
Then Francis the Farrier pulled Archie's shoes and he tiptoed on tender tootsies through November until he got "tough" and no longer insisted on doing this silly mincing little baby cakes walk unless he was on soft sand, soft grass or deep shavings. I kept telling him, "Arch, you've gotta get real, you're a Yankee horse now," but he still spent time looking forlornly towards those Kentucky hills and that rich blue grass. Well actually, he spent a lot of time looking at the farm's driveway waiting for me to come with snacks, but you have to first walk down the driveway to get to Louisville.
When the snow fell in early December, Arch and I trotted out into the white fields. He pranced and preened and sniffed in his first big adventure in the cold stuff. When we startled a huge white owl who was camouflaged by the snow, Archie floated sideways one way, and I floated the other. Surprised by my sudden exit, he bucked down the field for a bit, cantered back, gave me a snorting look and totally ignored all our long lessons on what to do when I say, "Woah," even if I am sitting on my backside in a snowdrift when I say it. I followed his gallop back to the barn at a long slow walk in fetlock deep snow and found him waiting for me, looking embarrassed. Remounting, we had a few trots around the ring and a long talk about the true meaning of woah.
Winter means, despite our Yankee hardiness, that some days are seriously (and purposefully) unmounted. Archie has had to suffer wearing a tasty- looking raspberry girly winter blanket because a: it was (obviously) on sale at Greatly Reduced Cost and b: Aquinnah adored it. The other ponies spent the winter eating chunks of it. Lizzie, visiting from England, gave Archie several lovely massages in deepest January (his Christmas present) which he would very much like to become accustomed to on a more regular basis. Too cold, too wet, too wild, winter is a good time to practice tricks. Here's what Archie learned this winter:
- To stretch his neck elastically all the way back to stirrup level both sides and down to his toes in exchange for an apple. This action enhances the meaning of the word "down" which means lower your head so I can get your bridle on. I kept being slightly aware that either my reach had shortened, or Archie's head was higher.
- "Come Archie" which is what it sounds like and means turning my pony into a puppy who will follow me around the farm. I like that. Archie also stands (usually) when asked to and stops when I put my hand up (usually).
- Lunging--well this trick is still on trial, Archie does not see me as a person of authority and prefers taking the lunge opportunity to practice Woah or the Friendly Game. He pretends that he is going to keep going around the circle for a while and then changes direction or stops altogether. Heather sighs, comes in, takes up the slack, Archie sighs, and trots on out to the 20 meter circle like he's been doing it all his life. He has.
Despite our regular forays out in bitter weather, snow squalls and cold gray days, much of Archie's winter energy was expended in eating--and growing. The Pony Club members wrote guesses at how much he'd grown on small pieces of paper they stuffed in a jar in February, but no one imagined that he is now officially huge.Archie arrived here last June at 15.1, ate his way through the winter along with a top dressing of Force WT ( a lovely seaweed supplement that brings a nice bit of nori to an otherwise bland dinner) and grew. And grew. On March 1st, Heather ceremoniously "put the stick" to him and we all gasped. Archie is now one week from his fifth birthday and measures 16.0 at his withers, but is mysteriously 16.1 at his hefty hindquarters. The mystery is whether his front end will grow to match his hind end, or whether we will be facing slightly down hill forever.
Spring has sprung. The ring is back to sand, the lanes and fields are snow free, and the pastures are receding from lake to land. We've taken up leaping. When he first started, Archie imagined jumping as synonymous with bowling. He saw the jump, his ears forward, he carefully gathered himself into to a steady arc towards the obstacle--bingo all twelve pins down. Now his legs longer and more coordinated on all four corners, he floats over cross rails, bounces, and small oxers, legs neatly tucked up and often landing on the right lead. This is in itself a head scratcher as he is less inclined to take that right lead if I remove the fence.
He loves it. I love it. Life is good. Every day is a riding day and the spring winds send us scudding off, giddy with the joy of action.
Recent Comments