The Dodge of doom
Feb. 4th, 2008 01:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
murakoziIt was warmer than usual for February on Sunday, and a beautiful day for riding. I was surprised that all three trail rides weren't booked. It was yet another Sunday when I wished that there was time for me to tag along on one of them.
The day was a pretty standard one, work-wise. The only real item of note was when Wheatchex was being led around behind the barn to turn her out. Wheatchex is an old mare. Old enough that a couple of her foals (from back in the old days when the school mares would sometimes be bred) worked at the barn over the years. She's pretty much seen it all and is quite laid back.
So when we were turning horses out, I was leading Confetti and one of the barn regulars, Carol, was leading Wheatchex. Now behind the barn is where the shavings and such mucked out of the stalls are piled before being put in the big dumpster to be hauled off. Often, people will come to the barn to take some from the pile since it does make pretty nice mulch/fertilizer. Sunday, as I came out with Confetti, there was a man with a red minivan parked there, shoveling stuff from the pile into bags to take home. Nothing unusual there.
I was a bit ahead and got to the pasture as Carol and Wheatchex were just coming out of the barn. I let Confetti loose and started back, to find Carol circling Wheatchex at the barn door. Turns out that Wheatchex had been fine until she got near the minivan and then started getting all white eyed and bouncy. The man obligingly had stopped shoveling when the pair approached and even closed the back door of the van, thinking maybe that's what was so scary. Wheatchex wanted no part of it all, though.
So I went back and took Wheatchex's lead, talked to her a bit and led her toward the pasture. She was still very unhappy about the minvan, but did keep going. AS we got back to it, she tried to break into a trot to get away from it more quickly. A moment later we were at the gate and she was running off through the muddy pasture to be with her friends.
I don't know what it was, but something about the situation was just frightening to Wheatchex. Maybe it was something about the man (who was quite nice and understanding, even offering to pull the van around the barn), or something about the minivan, or a combination of the two. Could've just been something totally random. It was surprising though, since Wheatchex has experienced a lot of situations in her life.
Now being a bit tired, it also makes me ponder things and assign them, perhaps, a bit more depth than they warrant. It's easy to find a little metaphor to life in general in the incident and make some parallel to how everyone has a red minivan in their life that they just can't get past alone. Sometimes you just need someone to take hold of the lead and get you going so you can get on to enjoying things.
The day was a pretty standard one, work-wise. The only real item of note was when Wheatchex was being led around behind the barn to turn her out. Wheatchex is an old mare. Old enough that a couple of her foals (from back in the old days when the school mares would sometimes be bred) worked at the barn over the years. She's pretty much seen it all and is quite laid back.
So when we were turning horses out, I was leading Confetti and one of the barn regulars, Carol, was leading Wheatchex. Now behind the barn is where the shavings and such mucked out of the stalls are piled before being put in the big dumpster to be hauled off. Often, people will come to the barn to take some from the pile since it does make pretty nice mulch/fertilizer. Sunday, as I came out with Confetti, there was a man with a red minivan parked there, shoveling stuff from the pile into bags to take home. Nothing unusual there.
I was a bit ahead and got to the pasture as Carol and Wheatchex were just coming out of the barn. I let Confetti loose and started back, to find Carol circling Wheatchex at the barn door. Turns out that Wheatchex had been fine until she got near the minivan and then started getting all white eyed and bouncy. The man obligingly had stopped shoveling when the pair approached and even closed the back door of the van, thinking maybe that's what was so scary. Wheatchex wanted no part of it all, though.
So I went back and took Wheatchex's lead, talked to her a bit and led her toward the pasture. She was still very unhappy about the minvan, but did keep going. AS we got back to it, she tried to break into a trot to get away from it more quickly. A moment later we were at the gate and she was running off through the muddy pasture to be with her friends.
I don't know what it was, but something about the situation was just frightening to Wheatchex. Maybe it was something about the man (who was quite nice and understanding, even offering to pull the van around the barn), or something about the minivan, or a combination of the two. Could've just been something totally random. It was surprising though, since Wheatchex has experienced a lot of situations in her life.
Now being a bit tired, it also makes me ponder things and assign them, perhaps, a bit more depth than they warrant. It's easy to find a little metaphor to life in general in the incident and make some parallel to how everyone has a red minivan in their life that they just can't get past alone. Sometimes you just need someone to take hold of the lead and get you going so you can get on to enjoying things.