Nantua Farm Blog

In our barn, we have two 12′ x 12′ stalls that can (well, could originally, you’ll understand why not anymore at the end of the story) be converted into a 12′ x 24′ foaling stall by simply removing ten to twelve 2″ x 8″ boards that slide into a groove made by some pieces of wood that had been nailed to the sides of the stalls (not my design!)… Well, when we first moved to the property, Blue and Bill shared those adjoining stalls. This arrangement has since changed all because of what I found one morning when I came out to feed. Seems that Blue, who is known around the barn as the prankster and, when bored, can raise some hell, had somehow managed, with his TEETH to pull out on of these 2″ x 8″ x 12 foot boards. At first I didn’t notice it as I went into his stall and thought something was a little odd with the wall, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Well, then I went into Bill’s stall… Right in the middle is this board covered in teeth marks. So, I shake my head, pull the board out and go on with my day. Not the end of the story… Several days later I come in to turn everyone out and there are TWO more boards pulled out as well as one board (mind you this is a 2″ x 8″) that is cracked in half! Slowly but surely, Blue is removing the wall so it’s low enough for this 17.1 hh lughead to step over into Bill’s stall! Now, what he was planning on doing once in there I’m not quite sure as Bill is not really the “sharing” type. Not a stall I’d want to be in! Oh, and all three (well, four, I guess, as one of them was in 2 pieces) were all in Bill’s stall as Blue didn’t want anything littering HIS precious stall! Still not sure how he/they managed it, but, needless to say, Charlie is now in Bill’s old stall (who doesn’t put up with Blue’s shananigans) and every board has TWO screws in both ends… I just have to wonder what Blue must have been like on the track… Oh good Lord!

For some reason, clean clothing seems to have a bullseye for every horse booger in the barn. Leave it to your equine best friend to snort on your best or most expensive WHITE shirt only minutes before you need to leave to go somewhere. And with my luck, it typically ends up landing front and center of my chest… But what happened the other day beats the cake. Straight into my face… Enough said.

I have to preface this story with the fact that my neighbor, a cattle farmer, is amazing! He is one of those guys who has every tool and toy imaginable and is willing to help you out whenever you need help (he, in fact, helped us put in an entire fence line of posts because he has a post hole digger attachment for his tractor which makes short work of a big job), so when he admitted that he watches me ride through his binoculars, I just laughed! So, I went down to his barn the other day to see what was going on (there were a bunch of worker bees hanging around) and he begins telling the guys hanging around about me and what he saw through his binoculars the other day. Now, you have to imagine this in a strong southeastern Kentucky accent… “So, I see her get bucked off this little mustang… and she gets back on. I think she’s nuts. Then I see her get bucked off again and she gets BACK ON AGAIN! This happens several times, and each time the buck gets worse and the landing gets harder…. So all I have to say is, damn, this girl has cojones!”

So have you ever ridden, don’t really care where or what discipline and found yourself looking down at the ground knowing that momentarily you would be there regardless of your intention of remaining in the saddle? Not the best feeling in the world. My most recent “that’s gonna hurt…” moment was several months ago when I was riding Blue, my big 17.1 hh OTTB dressage king. We were having a leisurely hack out in the back pasture and suddenly, without warning (well, of course there was no warning, or I would have figured out a different method of dismount) a horse fly lands on his massive butt and stings him. Despite Blue’s size and normally calm demeanor, he erupted into bucks that I never knew he was capable of. I’m talking the big, twist his head from side to side while throwing his butt over his ears kind of buck! So, what do I do in that infinitely small moment? I look down at the ground (which seems way farther away at that point than it did 30 minutes ago when mounting) and “that’s gonna hurt…” begins to play in my head. To my right is a large flat rock and to my left is an even bigger not so flat rock. Neither way is a good out. So I’m pretty much screwed at this point. I drop my stirrup irons (as getting dragged is the LAST thing I need) and hold on for dear life! Now, any polo player worth their salt knows that stuff like this happens all the time (ok, maybe not all the time, but that, of course, depends on how lucky you are when you picked your string of polo ponies) and not only are you expected to remain UPRIGHT in the saddle, but the rest of your team sees no reasonable explanation for why you would be unable to hit, block, hook or bump (sorry for all you non-polo people… polo lingo just sort of comes out). But, I’m not in a polo saddle, I’m in a dressage saddle. And I’m not lucky enough to have a pelham, gag, or other strong bit to assist me in bringing the bouncing helicopter I’m sitting on to a stop. So I begin of thinking about exit strategies… Left or right? Roll or try to land on my feet? Well, maybe a whole 3 seconds later, the decisions have been made for me as I lay on my back staring up at the underside of Blue’s neck. And what is the first thing that pops into my head? “Damn, I missed a spot with the clippers…”