A freshly trimmed up "Colt".
Yesterday was the day I finally got some physical contact with my handsome roan boy, and today I was determined....or...hopeful at least, that I'd be able to get him all cleaned up and a bit more socialized. I had taken the first week slow, and that was perfectly fine with me- I certainly had no intention of rushing him. We still had over two months- it was only day six! But we had to start training somewhere, now that he had warmed up to me. And I figure we could improve both his attitude towards humans and his scraggly mane with some attention!
Not all of our horses cared for grooming- there were a number who avoided it like the plague. But many horses enjoyed the relief of itchy patchy coats, the cleaning of old scabs, and the detangling of manes and tails. I could only cross my fingers and hope my boy would be one of those. After my typical morning, I waved a quick hello to Annika, who was setting out to exercise some of our Western show horses, and picked up a small grooming bag. Nothing too scary- merely a dandy brush, a gentle rubber curry, a mane brush, a small pair of scissors, and some oil to rub into his coat and mane to help with dirt, snarls, and make that pretty blue stand out.
He had gotten his hay before I had made my rounds to the other geldings and mares, and was chasing the last few pale green wisps across the paddock when I arrived. I slid through the slats again, and remained standing, just so he could get used to the idea of me being taller. Most of our interaction yesterday had been with me crouching or sitting in an uncomfortable position, and he needed to get used to my real height as well. He paused, watching me warily, but pricked his ears at the soft rustling of the cloth grooming bag. Picking his way carefully over as he munched on his hay, he observed me from a good distance, before stretching out his neck to sniff my elbow. Convinced I was the same human from yesterday, he scooted a bit closer, until he was checking out my bare, dusty arms and shoulder. I rustled the bag, letting him listen to the faint thumps of the tools inside. Handling it like a champ, he didn't shy away, and I gave him a short 'hum' of appreciation before pulling out the dandy brush. Even though one would normally start with a curry and then use the dandy to get off looser dirt and hair, I wanted to start soft. I held it under his muzzle, so he could give it a good whiff.
He not only ventured a sniff, but also went in for a nibble too! He stopped when he realized the bristles didn't taste good, and he barely twitched when I lightly brushed it over the soft coat toward his pink muzzle. His ears flicked back for a moment, but he didn't shy, and waited stiffly as I carefully and gently stroked his forehead and cheeks with it. After he had relaxed and even dozed a bit, I introduced the rubber curry in the same way, gently running it on his cheeks and upper neck. He didn't like it quite as much, but he tolerated it, which was enough of a victory for me. I abandoned the tools for a bit in favor of running my fingers and palms over his face and upper neck again, and spent a good deal of time gently working my way through his forelock. I hated people yanking on my hair (which was thick enough to be a horse's mane, practically), so I took care not to jerk too much. He flinched a few times, but I guess I was gentle enough, as he never protested. His mane was still scraggly and uneven, but it was free of twigs and most of the straw now. I liked free-flowing manes, but I noticed some of the hairs were unhealthy, and so I pulled out the scissors and carefully trimmed up his forelock and mane.
I worked my way down his body, giving him a break every so often to have a chance to get away from me, grab a drink, or just release any tension he might be feeling. I did discover his "sweet-spot" in the process- he started tossing his head and groaning with delight when I ran my hands and brush right behind his left elbow, the side of his barrel. I even ventured a few scratches, which he enjoyed with gusto. I felt myself grinning like the Chesire cat, the hours melting away as I slowly but surely cleaned him up. Granted, he spooked a few times, when a truck backfired down the lane, but he returned to me, just as I was about to call it a day. He seemed to want the attention, seeing what he could get out of it.
It was a great day. I mean, I hadn't done anything with ropes or halters yet, but that would come in due time. The bonding and trust he was beginning to show, in such a short period of time, was wonderful enough to whet my appetite. I was looking forward to the future, and I could practically taste the moment we'd grow even better. This was as much a learning experience for me, as it was for him.
Where did that come from?!
Yesterday was the day I finally got some physical contact with my handsome roan boy, and today I was determined....or...hopeful at least, that I'd be able to get him all cleaned up and a bit more socialized. I had taken the first week slow, and that was perfectly fine with me- I certainly had no intention of rushing him. We still had over two months- it was only day six! But we had to start training somewhere, now that he had warmed up to me. And I figure we could improve both his attitude towards humans and his scraggly mane with some attention!
Not all of our horses cared for grooming- there were a number who avoided it like the plague. But many horses enjoyed the relief of itchy patchy coats, the cleaning of old scabs, and the detangling of manes and tails. I could only cross my fingers and hope my boy would be one of those. After my typical morning, I waved a quick hello to Annika, who was setting out to exercise some of our Western show horses, and picked up a small grooming bag. Nothing too scary- merely a dandy brush, a gentle rubber curry, a mane brush, a small pair of scissors, and some oil to rub into his coat and mane to help with dirt, snarls, and make that pretty blue stand out.
He had gotten his hay before I had made my rounds to the other geldings and mares, and was chasing the last few pale green wisps across the paddock when I arrived. I slid through the slats again, and remained standing, just so he could get used to the idea of me being taller. Most of our interaction yesterday had been with me crouching or sitting in an uncomfortable position, and he needed to get used to my real height as well. He paused, watching me warily, but pricked his ears at the soft rustling of the cloth grooming bag. Picking his way carefully over as he munched on his hay, he observed me from a good distance, before stretching out his neck to sniff my elbow. Convinced I was the same human from yesterday, he scooted a bit closer, until he was checking out my bare, dusty arms and shoulder. I rustled the bag, letting him listen to the faint thumps of the tools inside. Handling it like a champ, he didn't shy away, and I gave him a short 'hum' of appreciation before pulling out the dandy brush. Even though one would normally start with a curry and then use the dandy to get off looser dirt and hair, I wanted to start soft. I held it under his muzzle, so he could give it a good whiff.
He not only ventured a sniff, but also went in for a nibble too! He stopped when he realized the bristles didn't taste good, and he barely twitched when I lightly brushed it over the soft coat toward his pink muzzle. His ears flicked back for a moment, but he didn't shy, and waited stiffly as I carefully and gently stroked his forehead and cheeks with it. After he had relaxed and even dozed a bit, I introduced the rubber curry in the same way, gently running it on his cheeks and upper neck. He didn't like it quite as much, but he tolerated it, which was enough of a victory for me. I abandoned the tools for a bit in favor of running my fingers and palms over his face and upper neck again, and spent a good deal of time gently working my way through his forelock. I hated people yanking on my hair (which was thick enough to be a horse's mane, practically), so I took care not to jerk too much. He flinched a few times, but I guess I was gentle enough, as he never protested. His mane was still scraggly and uneven, but it was free of twigs and most of the straw now. I liked free-flowing manes, but I noticed some of the hairs were unhealthy, and so I pulled out the scissors and carefully trimmed up his forelock and mane.
I worked my way down his body, giving him a break every so often to have a chance to get away from me, grab a drink, or just release any tension he might be feeling. I did discover his "sweet-spot" in the process- he started tossing his head and groaning with delight when I ran my hands and brush right behind his left elbow, the side of his barrel. I even ventured a few scratches, which he enjoyed with gusto. I felt myself grinning like the Chesire cat, the hours melting away as I slowly but surely cleaned him up. Granted, he spooked a few times, when a truck backfired down the lane, but he returned to me, just as I was about to call it a day. He seemed to want the attention, seeing what he could get out of it.
It was a great day. I mean, I hadn't done anything with ropes or halters yet, but that would come in due time. The bonding and trust he was beginning to show, in such a short period of time, was wonderful enough to whet my appetite. I was looking forward to the future, and I could practically taste the moment we'd grow even better. This was as much a learning experience for me, as it was for him.
Phantom
Buck
Riptide
Joker
Whorl
Saratoga
Where did that come from?!
Phantom
Buck
Riptide
Joker
Whorl
Saratoga
