How have our two been faring while I’ve been lost in Alphabetland? Quite well, thank you.
Since the last mare report [Morning Graze], Mathilda has had a low-grade spring fever – not the good kind – and a mild relapse of her secondary injury [Getting Ready, Fine. So Far]. Dread was had by all. Fortunately, she chugged through.
Unfortunately, meds put her off her feed. We try to handle minor problems with supportive care where possible. She’s still lost more weight than she can spare from when medication was required. To get the weight back, we’ve fiddled with her diet, yet again. We’ve switched from brand X to brand Y. Similar feed, different company. Both reputable national feeds, but the new one appears to strike her fancy. Not Senior. Never Senior. Bleh. We’ve also put her on chopped hay. Short pieces. Easier to eat. Duh.
Her attitude is terrific and she is awash in Spring Fever! The frisky kind. I won’t say she is getting better. That would be tempting fate. Let’s just say that I have stopped having a panic attack immediately upon waking. There is still anxiety. Just not immediately.
Rodney has been working industriously on his ground work: weaving around cones, walking over poles, trotting in hand, and jumping on the line.
Given the massive come-apart he had last summer when asked to trot in hand [Weekend, Progress], his recent efforts have been stellar. Given the grand plans I had when I bought him, such small victories are frustrating.
While I was away in Georgia [Show Report], the mice played. The in-hand, trot fence topped out at 3′, the height of the schooling standards. (To be clear, no one was riding. Rodney jumps solo at the end of a long leadline. Kinda like lunging without having the horse as far away from the operator.) He walked to the vicinity of the jump, trot/cantered two strides, hopped over, and landed without a fuss or a head shake.
If that wasn’t enough to celebrate, when I got home that evening he had the oddest attitude: calm, sensible, and relaxed. Usually when Rodney has a good day, he’s tickled. You can tell he’s proud of not being the dumbest kid in class. We in turn are tickled when he is calm-for-Rodney. That night he was flat-out calm. He had the air of a seasoned campaigner content after a good day’s work. Mature.
It only lasted one night. He spooked at me the next morning when I went into his stall. I don’t know where the attitude came from. I don’t know what we do to get it back. For now, it’s nice to know that such an attitude is in there.
Gratuitous Pasture Sunset