Conglomeration

Apparently, humans are hung up on the past. They like to know who your parents are from forever ago and where you come from and blah blah blah.

I am a registered fully foundation Nokota, which means both of my parents and their parents and those parents' parents ad naseum came from the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. While our existence can be traced back to the horses of Sitting Bull, obviously a few ranchers' horses must have wandered into the herd at some point.

While looking at some stills from my video, Mother was laughing a bit; she says I could be most any breed at times.

Hrrmph.

If you didn't know what breed I was, what would be your guess?

This sent Mother down memory lane, and she dug up some other diverse sorts of pictures:

Seriously, Mother? You thought this should be included?!

Mother, stop picking the embarrassing ones!

OK, I don't even look like a horse in this one.

Mother!! Why do you always throw this one in there!!!!

So if you had never heard of Nokotas, what would you think I was?

Happiness runs in a circular motion

Sometimes I make Mother sad. 

Well, she needs to focus on the here and now. 

Because sometimes, Mother, you make me dizzy... I have trouble focusing at all.

At least she has gotten a little better at the live action shots. The download quality isn't as good as on Mother's computer, though. Sorry.

This was the second time she's lunged me this week. I often go a long time without having to do any of lunging or driving~ and you can see we don't do much for very long. After I was moving so nicely the other day, Mother wondered how I'd go. I was the tiniest bit off, and not being snorty and flashy, but Mother said I looked pretty happy and comfortable.

Well, yes. And later I got a great grooming, a massage, and cookies.

Happiness.

Lame

Mother is lame.

Rather than spend time with me, she went with the palomino human and her offspring to something Mother said was a roller rink.

Apparently, humans strap little carts to their feet and try to stay upright.

That sounds pretty lame to me. And a little creepy.

Mother apparently sustained several injuries from her carting, most prominent of which is a small fluid filled swelling on the bottom of her hoof.

Now she limps around and whines.

She should have stayed here with me and given me cookies.

Boring AND Creepy

It has been warm here. VERY warm. And though I did not grow as thick of a coat here in Ohio as I did in North Dakota, it was still quite substantial.

And unfortunately, it is STILL quite substantial.

Mother has been hosing me off every time she's been up here, which helps a bit but that water is so cold. My body is never going to lose its coat if it thinks we are having cold and rainy showers every afternoon.

Today, Mother was very, very odd. She was tugging around the creepy garish hay transporter. She was picking up sticks to feed it (although it just let them lay on its back) and pulling it around the garden paddock while I was trying to eat with my Red Mare herd. That thing straight up gives me the heebie jeebies and I wish Mother would not bring it by. She ignored me however, and went about gathering sticks.

Why? It's not eating them. I would eat cookies if you gave them to me...

After a while, she hazed us out of the grassy garden paddock, and soon took me out to the barn porch. I assumed I was going to get hosed again because I had lots of crunchy stiff hair spikes from sweating today, but she just curried and brushed me really well. She started digging around in her black trunk... and emerged with the surcingle. Uh, oh. Work time.

Uh, Mother, did you not notice I am wearing a coat designed to keep me warm  in a North Dakota winter?

Blizzard from 1966. My great great grandparents were living in the ND Badlands for that.

Anyway, Mother put my lunge line on me, and off we went to the Multipurpose. I eagerly trotted out before waiting for instructions. Mother commented on how forward I was; I must be feeling good and like my supplements. Since she seemed so admiring, I did a bit of my elevated and flashy front feet trot. She ooohhed and aaahhed appropriately.

I decided a spot of canter would go nicely, and stretched into that a bit. Mother encouraged me to trot and halt, and I realized that that was really a better idea.

I went the other way, with a bit of flashy trot just to show Mother that I am awesome and there is no need for a riding horse when she has me to look at. She only let me go a few laps, then we stopped and she adjusted my driving lines.

We drove around the back pasture and I really was very attentive and obedient, so I didn't have to work very long. Or so I thought...

Mother undid my driving lines, but used one of the lunge lines to lead me out into the small pasture with the horrible hay transporter. She walked around (while it creeped and slithered along behind her) and picked up sticks, and I was obliged to come along. After a while I realized that the thing really does just follow her on its rope, and when she drops the rope he stays obediently in place.

He got all the sticks along the fence by the big back pasture. He got all the sticks by the trees in the corner. He got all the sticks along the bottom of the Small. They pile high upon his back.

And still she picked up sticks.

I started wondering what she was doing. Because I have to say, it was really boring (except when we started walking again and the stick filled thing started grinding the ground and making creepy noises). She wandered with no discernible pattern. Was this how she felt when I hand grazed? 

So, that was just creepy. Boring AND creepy.

I wonder what she's going to do with all those sticks, since he's obviously not going to eat them?



And I got hosed at the end, anyway.

Sloshy Sunday

Mother and Aunt What's-her-name thought it would be "fun" to give me a bath. Sigh.

Mother curried me off, saying something about I was really dirty and it was best to get some of the hair off before the bath. Uhhhh... really, do we have to do all this?

They say pets look like their owners

Aunt What's-her-name undid my braids, which was nice of her  ... Then I got hosed. 

Not nice, Mother.

And hosed...

And HOSED!!!

Mother says all that hosing is necessary to get off all the shampoo. 

So, is that much shampoo really necessary? 

And the laughing at me; is that necessary, too?

The only good thing is I got lots of cookies, and a bit of lawn time. But really, Mother, I think you and Aunt What's-her-name could find better ways to amuse yourself if you really tried.

What the ...?

What do YOU think is happening here?

Shiny new thing a ma bob (not mine)

Do you think Mother would get me one of these?

I bet FarmWife will get one for Fenway...

International Standards: Passport

Mother was commenting today on my lack of good hygiene. I don't see what the problem is.

I think I look clean enough.

At first, Mother thinks I am clean enough, too

As I get closer, though, it is obvious I fall below her standard of "clean".

Unclean! Unclean!

 

Boyfriend!?! 

Did you sleep on the warm pillow again? 

How do you do that?

Easy, I just close my eyes and drift away on a warm sea of tranquility.

Ew. You have all sorts of stains. 

And you sort of smell. 

I don't like smelling like that, too. Ick. 

Do I really have to brush you?

Whatever.

 This side isn't so bad...

Really, Bif? That is clean to you?

 Honestly, Mother! You make me sound like some primitive creature that has climbed up out of the primordial ooze.

Errr... ummmm...

 Can we just get on with whatever you came up here for?

Me and my big mouth. Mother gave me a really good currying and brushing, but then she decided it was time. Every year around this time, she decides I need to renew my passport.

I'm not sure which is stranger... the fact that she insists on doing this, or the fact that I don't really mind. Truth be told, I was sweating a bit from all that extra hair. 

I'm glad it's gone.

Tasteful, tactful, photographic proof of my Bolivian.

Mother commented for the first time today on how long my forelock has grown. She grumbled because after she put my halter on and made sure my mane was out from under the crown, she had to pull my forelock out from under the noseband.

Great, another reason for her to snivel.

Springtime Dangers

Mother had a diabolical plan: Lure me into complacency by letting me graze on the lawn, then swoop down and, under the guise of grooming me, WASH MY TAIL.

It was cold. Mother told me to be glad I wasn't getting my legs washed, too. Or  getting the many stains she claims I have washed.

Vanity is an ugly thing.

So she scrubbied my tail head thoroughly, and made tchh-tchh sounds over the place that I rub on it. I have been rubbing that for over a year, Mother. Leave it alone.

She put the purple stuff all over the lower part of my tail. She let me sit awhile. She hosed it all off, then slathered purple-y conditioner all over it.

She combed through it, pulling out a few hairs, and then hosed all of that off, too. She muttered how my tail touches the ground dry; it was worse when it was wet. Should she hack some off? I tend to really lower my haunches during pasture time activities, and have been known to step on it and rip out hunks at a time.

She instead took pity on me and let me back out onto the grassy lawn. Yea!!

She swept up the hair my currying had left on the porch, muttering that springtime means grooming and being covered in hair and that the horse still looks just as hairy if not even worse when one finishes.

Well, at least your butt isn't wet, Mother.

Let there be Light!

Mother was up what I consider rather early today, since anymore if she comes up she usually wanders in around late afternoon. I walked over to the barnyard gate to suggest some lawn time.

She ignored me.

She bustled about hither and yon, not doing anything really, as far as I could tell. She went in the barn. I went in the run-in and peered through the window. Oh, goody, she's in the hay stall. I could hear and almost see her cutting the strings on the bale, and lifting up portions for us. Then she walked out of the hay stall.

Empty handed.

She walked back out in front of the barn, and then rolled closed the far barn door that she had opened just minutes earlier.

What is she doing? And  please just bring the hay out!

Belle and I stared at her as she did nothing. She walked in to the Small. Convinced that she might have treats, Belle wandered over to see her in the Small. I followed, because what if Belle was right? Those are MY treats, not Belle's. She shouldn't get any.

Mother waited until we had walked in, then she unhooked the gate and closed us out of the barnyard. OK. But where's the hay? No treats and no hay?

There was a rumble as if a vehicle were coming up the driveway. Mother hustled in to the hay stall and brought the hay out to the Small. It's about time!

There was a man and a small boy human. Mother and the small human came and looked at all of us while we ate. Creepy.

The donkey followed them in to the barn. Soon Mother reemerged, rushing across the Small to the car she parks over at the house next door. I decided to go investigate what exactly was happening in the barn.

The man was drilling a hole in the rafter, and running a wire through to the run- in shed. I monitored his activities, but was too smart to get close. Bert came up to see what was going on and nearly bumped the man off the ladder.

Mother returned shortly, carrying a bag that did not smell like treats. She pet me on my nose as she went past and in to the barn. She soon came back out  and caught Belle.

There was hammering coming from inside. What is going on? Why do they need Belle?

After a while I saw the little human being lead around on Belle in the barnyard.

Mother asked me when I was watching the man remove the ladder from the run-in if I liked my new light.

What? Oh... Sure, whatever.

May I have more hay? Or dinner? Or go out on the lawn, please?

This is not my normal schedule.

How to ruin a day

It started out well enough. Mother came up to visit this afternoon. First thing, after I inquired pleasantly if I was allowed, she opened the barnyard gate to the barn porch and the yard for me. She made sure Belle stayed behind in the barnyard, where she belongs.

I went out on the lawn to munch. After a while, Mother came up and made my dinner, and was kind enough to bring it to me. She sat on the fallen tree while I ate my meal. How nice to dine al fresco with such a pleasant companion.

I ate grass for quite some time longer, and then Mother haltered me and led me back up to the barn porch to brush me. She picked all my hoovies, then gave me a little bit of the yummy muffiny cookie. Yah!! She started brushing me.

It was a pretty thorough brushing for this time of year; she peeled all my ergots and chestnuts and everything. She was sniveling about all the hair I am shedding... something about it being a bad time of year to have to drive a rental car. Uh, whatever, lady. Oh, and you missed a spot.

She got back at me by giving me dewormer. Blech! She brushed me for quite a while afterward, then offered me some of my magic-y muffiny cookie. I consumed it, but having had the dewormer, the muffin tasted awful. She offered me the other half.

No thank you.

Eat it. Here.

No thank you.

Come on, Bif. Stuffs cookie into mouth.

Open mouth, spit out cookie. Don't WANT it. Blech.

Fine. She sighs, picks up the muffin chunk, and leaves the barn porch. I hear her calling to Belle.

What a yucky day.