Fun!

It’s been a full week.

Preparations are ramping up for our wedding which is next weekend, so time with Bear has been, sadly, sporadic at best. In fact, I haven’t ridden at all this week and won’t, now, until after the wedding is over.

This means, of course, he will get to enjoy a bit of a vacation too.

On Wednesday, between hair colouring and a dress fitting, I managed to squeeze in a visit to the barn. Because the farrier was doing feet (including Bear’s which were in real need of attention) and this tends to monopolize the small barn where Bear lives, our time was limited to a few minutes of hand grazing.

Yesterday, however, and to my delight, I had plenty of time to devote to grooming and playing with my beautiful boy.

We had so much fun!

He loves a free-run in the arena and to wallow in my company (and I his, of course). This makes my heart glad and releases any stress I’m holding and, as we get closer to the big day, this is really important.

These images were captured with my iPhone while we were hanging out in the arena. Please enjoy them for the next couple of weeks. I doubt I’ll be posting again until the beginning of June.

Fun!

Done …

Focusing …

Wooly eyeballing …

Reflecting …

Investigating …

Following the yellow sandy sunspot …

Connecting …

Snacking …

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

How my horse saved me from an in-store cosmetic makeover …

Slightly off the beaten track today, but I felt I just had to share this little moment of unguarded candor from Saturday.

I was in the cosmetics department of the local drug store, minding my own business while engaged in the daunting task of selecting a suitably coloured lip gloss for daily use. (To my gentlemen readers: this can be a laborious endeavour for most women, make no mistake. )

Holy horsefeathers! … With so many lip-plumping, shine-enhancing shades and varieties and brands on the market these days what was once a simple foray into creative cosmetic self-expression has become more of an exercise in close-your-eyes-and-pick-one.

Ploughing through 12 or more shades of pink to find the one that works best for me is not my idea of a good time. What’s even more frustrating is when I do finally find the one I like and want to replace it a year later after it’s been well used, it’s either been repackaged and renamed so I can’t find it, or worse, discontinued. Thus the search for a new shade begins all over again. (And this is true of ALL cosmetic products.)

Another consideration: Do I trust the salesperson (usually a woman) to have my best interests at heart when debating the merits of pink versus peach against my skin? Sometimes I wonder. Call me a skeptic, but when she says I look good in a particular shade does she mean it or is she simply trying to make a sale?

Hmmmmm …

Perhaps this is more about my own trust issues, I don’t know, but I’ve bought a lot of lipsticks over the years that, under artificial store lighting, looked really good but, when I got home and tried them in natural light, made me look like a charicature of myself.

My make-up case is a veritable lipstick grave yard.

But, I digress …

During my little escapade I became acutely aware of a roving make-up artist brought in by the store for the day. Her mission: to provide make-up refreshers or, if a hapless “victim” purchased $75 worth of product or more, a full makeover.

She wasn’t really harassing people, but you know how it is … when you’re in a hurry you don’t really want to be bothered interacting with someone whose real purpose is to sell you stuff you don’t need. Frankly, I already own a full complement of expensive product I haven’t been able to use recently due to my ongoing entanglement with adrenal fatigue. I haven’t been able to get out much. The barn has been my social focal point and, as you might imagine, there isn’t a great call for a full face of make-up there.

So, doing my best to make myself invisible, I crouched low to the ground and ruminated with much focused intensity upon which of the the many gloss colours at my disposal might be most lip-smacking appropriate. I don’t wear a lot of make-up, but I am particular when I do.

Then, as the wolf is to the rabbit, I was pounced upon.

“Can I help you find something?” the over-made-up make-up artist enquired with a saccharin snarl.

How to wriggle myself free?

“No thanks!” I responded quickly and resumed my focus on a seemingly fruitless search.

The prowler wouldn’t take the hint and continued to hover, almost standing on top of me. So while still crouched, I turned on my heels and decided to get a closer look at her.

She was young middle-aged, I’d say, and face painted in such a way, no doubt, as to demonstrate her prowess in the cosmetic arts.

Heavy foundation, piled-on layers of eye shadow in shades of cerise and black, false eye lashes, big ruby lips, and hair dyed black sporting a streak of cerise that flashed carelessly through long unkempt bangs — a little too Goth, for my taste. Still, I smiled, thanked her for her query and returned again to the task at hand, hoping she’d go away.

I was to be disappointed.

“We have a special offer on today … ” she began her cheerfully whining speech.

I only half listened as she went on about this and that to do with the special in-store offer.

“Blah … blah … blah … blah … blah … or you can have the full makeover with a purchase of $75 or more. Would you like to follow me?”

That’s when I finally turned to the unrelenting and, without pre-meditation, flashed this bolt out of the blue:

“No thanks … I’m going to the barn after this and my horse doesn’t care what I look like.”

A pregnant pause hovered between us. A quizzical expression crawled spider-like across her mask such that I could almost hear the synapses in her selling strategy snapping in panic behind it …

“Abort! Abort! Abort!“

Then, after a moment and with wonderfully punctuated hesitation, she said …

“I … guess not …”

She then turned and walked away.

Victory complete, I exhaled with relief and returned again to my torturous lipstick hunt.

It was the wonderfully dumbfounded hesitation in her response that amused me.

Perhaps she’s never spent time with a horse. Perhaps the notion of going out in public without a full face of make-up is anathema to her. Or, perhaps, both notions are as foreign to her as wearing a full face of make-up every day is to me.

Had I intrigued her or confused her? Or did she think my manner downright rude and boorish?

I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.

What I do know, from personal experience, is the trap that’s set as soon as you park your derriere in the make-up chair of a cosmetic department.

Let the up-selling begin!

You come in for a lipstick and, unless you are really, really strong, leave with a full compliment of new face paint you will literally never use — all because the make-up magician made it look so good. Once home you’ve either forgotten, or have no idea, how the tricks work.

Experience has taught me that being cornered in this way is to be avoided at all costs. Like my horse, Bear, I don’t appreciate being bullied into doing something I don’t want to do. And sometimes, like Bear, I need to get myself out of that corner by demonstrating a little bit of attitude.

So, ladies, (gentlemen: feel free to pass this along to the women in your lives) if ever you feel cornered by some over-zealous cosmetician, feel free to lean on my exit strategy. And, hold fast to the immortal words of French poet, Antoine de Saint Exupéry:

” … it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

And that is how my horse saved me from an in-store cosmetic makeover.

Nurture what you love … including yourself …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

Escape With Me …

… and pass the time with my equine entertainment coordinator … the comic, Shakespeare … as we engage in a little horse play.

You all know him as Bear, of course, but that doesn’t alter the fact that my four-legged thespian loves to put on an act and delight whatever might constitute an audience in the small barn where he lives.

Yukking it up and flashing those pearly whites for the camera is one of his many pleasures.

This week the topic of conversation around the barn has been the mucky-ness of the paddocks.

While these green spaces recover from the ravages of winter, the horses are on hourly rotation out in the sand ring which is itself a mire of mud and murkiness. This schedule will continue until the paddocks are demonstrating more resilience and the grass has had a chance to grow.

Like all the other horses, Bear cannot resist the urge to drop to his knees and roll … and roll … and roll. The current soft squooshiness of the sand ring makes this a particularly appealing pastime.

Yesterday Bear’s blanket, as evidenced by this image taken in said paddock with his buddy, Sam, was absolutely filthy. He has the role of mudslinger down pat.

Later, as I was photo-documenting the results of his shenanigans in the barn he decided to be the centre of attention for his own reasons, and proceeded to ham it up for the camera.

Naturally, the bucket of carrots at his feet had something to do with it. Like all great entertainers he expects to be rewarded for his efforts.

Aries is looking for a best supporting actor nod as he rests his chin on Bear’s rump trying to get in on the action.

You can see how well that’s going over.

*

This is my escape from the world and its drama.

After a couple of hours with Bear my perspective on a broader world beyond my control changes as I realize the amazing influence I can have on my horse and he on me.

My heart goes out to all whose lives have been radically changed this week by terrible events … and not just the ones we know about.

Nurture what you love … and create a happier world for yourself and those within your influence … while the chance is yours.

Be well …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

A Change of Pace …

It’s April 11 and, believe it or not, a snow day.

What do we do on a snow day?

The last few weeks have seen some intense moments as Bear and I sort through a few issues together. But now, with a clearer vision of where we’re going, it seems appropriate to take a bit of a break and have some play time.

I arrived at the barn early to beat the effects of the “winter” storm currently barrelling down on Southern Ontario. The arena was free so I walked Bear over and let him loose for what we commonly refer to as a “Yahoo!”

I happened to have my iPhone in my pocket so, while Bear did his best wild thing impression I did my best to capture a few candid moments.

These three images worked out the best.

Bear wasn’t such a wild and crazy guy this morning, but he did kick up his heels a little and enjoy a bit of a run about.

His head carriage always seems get that much higher as he canters past the mirror. I believe he has a strong appreciation of his own handsomeness. Can’t you just see him catching a glimpse of his reflection from the corner of his left eye?

Excitement over, limbs stretched, the demons chased away, he comes to a stop in the north east corner of the arena and waits for me to collect him. For some reason he always stops here when he’s done. Like us, horses are creatures of habit.

As I walk over he slowly bobs his head up and down below chest level, stretches his nose toward me and peels back his upper lip in a happy grin. He’s relaxed and ready for his lump of sugar.

Once we’ve re-connected Bear freely follows me around like a big, happy, puppy dog, going where I go, stopping where I stop. I feel like a million dollars. Is there anything so marvellous as winning the trust of the free-spirited?

We stop at the open half door overlooking the outdoor riding ring where many of the boys are turned out while spring paddock management is in full swing. Bear checks out the mudslingers moping in the muck. Liam is mildly curious; Tex is bored.

It’s not a good time of year to be a horse outdoors. They like to roll in the mud but hate to be covered in it. Sadly, you can’t have one without the other.

Play time over, I lead Bear back to his stall where he chomps on a generous helping of carrots and a big pile of hay. He awaits his moment in the muck.

Later Christine will pop on him and have some fun over fences.

A lovely change of pace and a mental health day for Mr. Bear.

A change is as good as a rest.

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013 

Ride It Through …

The greatest advances often occur after the most potent struggles.

Last week’s grouse with my rather opinionated horse turned out to be an event that shook, rattled and rolled me out of the rutted comfort zone of one skill level into the challenging, but potentially more satisfying, growth of the next.

Essentially it was a mini wake-up call.

Processing the event in the ensuing couple of days is what led me to this conclusion.

In spite of how well I’d ridden through Bear’s mischief on Tuesday and the compliments I’d received from those who’d witnessed it, doubts began to creep in that threatened to undermine my self-confidence.

What if this successful outcome was a fluke? What if Bear’s evil twin rears his ugly head again? What if I’m getting too old for this “dangerous” game? What if … what if … what if!!!

By Friday morning, (after two previously scheduled days out of the saddle), my confidence was at a low ebb and I was exhausted with it. Fear of failing my horse, and myself, was a constant torment. However, I also knew the only way around this mental/emotional obstacle was to ride through it.

To help me get my bearings again I leaned on my coach.

Back in the saddle and determined to make things right, I took up the reins but with an assertiveness I hadn’t anticipated. I engaged seat and leg. Immediately Bear reached into the contact; held my connection. It was as if he’d been waiting for me to figure it out so he could finally relax and get on with his job. There was an instant difference in our way of going. Ice falling from the roof was not going to be a big problem.

Coach entered the arena during our warm-up. He planted himself in the corner and observed our progression.

“Come here for a minute …” he called after a short while.

I brought Bear to a halt beside him.

“Now,” he started in that firm quizzical tone he uses when he’s about to make a point, “what’s changed since Tuesday? … You’re connected to Bear; he’s travelling in a lovely frame … what are you doing differently?”

I thought for a moment.

“Bloodyminded determination… .” I smiled.

“The difference between this and what you were doing a week ago is huge,” he went on to say. “This is how you ride. This is what will put Bear in the frame of mind to stay connected to you. Well done!”

A swell of pride rolled inside me as I gave Bear a pat and started into work again. Receiving a compliment from Coach is, as anyone who knows him will tell you, something to be held and cherished. He doesn’t just dish them out. You have to earn them.

I’ve since come to realize that Bear’s challenge to me last week was an important catalyst for growth in my development not only as a rider, but as a human being. While on the surface I felt my confidence under threat, deep inside the machinations of a more sophisticated self-trust was under construction. A more effective skill set was on the cusp of manifesting. Another more engaged way of being with my horse, and with the world, was being created.

Is it any wonder I love my horse?

He constantly gives me the gift of my self. He nurtures me.

The lesson from all this has been that struggle prepares us for the next spurt of growth. The challenge is to experience the discomfort with an open mind and without judgment. Rash decisions are often made in the midst of uncertainty. The mind wanders into dark corners of doubt and despair which shadows our view of ourselves and what’s possible and, if we’re not paying attention, puts us in a position to do and say things we most likely will later regret.

At my lowest point last week, some part of me — the fearful part, I’d say — toyed with the idea of selling my beautiful boy. What would that have accomplished but create even more misery? Thank goodness there are enough people in my life who, understanding the relationship Bear and I share, will tell me to give my head a shake when my evil twin starts imagining the worst.

The very things that threaten to bring us down have the potential to raise us up. When we connect to our discomfort; feel it; ride it through and have the courage to lean on those we trust for support through those tough times we create the potential for a new set of life skills and, in the process, expand our comfort zones and horizons.

At least … that’s what my horse has taught me.

I think that’s worthy of a kiss … don’t you?

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

A Dangerous Game

I love my horse.

Shakespeare is friend, teacher and therapist all bundled up in own big, brown, furry package, and a dream come true.

Occasionally, however, he’s an opinionated, demanding, obstinate [insert expletive here]. I don’t like when he leads me doe-eyed up the garden path and then unleashes his evil twin. It’s not nice.

And so we begin …

*

… Who knows what evil lurks …

When I arrived at the barn on Tuesday morning I was feeling good. Temps were hovering around zero; the sun was shining and I was looking forward to spending time with Bear and having a coaching — our first in more than 10 days.

At the paddock gate I called for Bear who was lingering at the far end of the two-acre pasture. Hearing my voice, he sauntered over all relaxed, and evidently happy, following a morning spent lolling in the sunshine and eating hay with his buddy, Sam.

As I groomed him I chanced to look through the barn window and across the driveway to the arena. Snow on the roof and the milder temps portended the risk of falling ice, the downside of a sunny day in February. However, with my half-hour lesson scheduled for 11:30 I figured it was early enough in the day for this not to matter. Early afternoon seems to be the tipping point for ice melt.

Besides, Bear was mellow yellow. He’d been ridden the two previous days, so was in good shape to handle a bit of extra stimulation. As a precaution, however, I turned him loose in the arena before getting on him. Just as I thought, he was fine — no drama. Ice toppled from the roof in a gentle cascade at one point and, while he flinched, he held his ground.

So, we were good.

I got on. We started our warm-up walk. Ice fell now and then. No big deal. Coach arrived and as things were going well I asked to extend the lesson to an hour.

“Sure!”

Great!

Bear and I went into our trot warm up. Coach worked his magic. He is the best kind of teacher for me. Technical, intuitive, patient and keenly interested in our progress. My skill set has been reinvented since I started working with him three years ago. Miraculous would be the word for it, especially since I’ve also been negotiating the pot holes of adrenal fatigue during this time. A couple of rounds of golf for Christmas hardly seems enough of a thank you for the difference this man has made in my life with Bear.

Still, I think he gets satisfaction from seeing the progress Bear and I are making. He likes Bear; sees he has talent and that he’s smart, and he wants me to ride him well and have fun with him safely.

So, yesterday Coach put us through our paces, the focus — connection.

Bear is savvy enough to know that connection means hard work — engaging the hind end; rounding through his back; being in the moment with me every step of the way. It’s challenging — for both of us — but we are at a point in our development where a consistent connection is integral to our progress and, on a day when ice is toppling off the roof at an ever-increasing rate, vital to our safety.

A good connection means that when Bear goes off the rails, for whatever reason, I can make the correction within a step or two instead of floundering through ten. He feels the weight of a secure connection to the bit through the reins and his body through my seat and legs and is confident I can get him through the spooky stuff. In turn I feel confident I can get him through it too.

At the trot we did this to brilliant effect.

Then it was time for canter work.

Canter, in general, has proven more of a challenge. My big-strided horse covers a lot of ground and synching our rhythm has been difficult, especially in recent years while I’ve been battling anxiety. During the past several weeks, however, things have started falling into place. With a lovely round of canter on Monday under my belt I was optimistic for our chances. Surely we could command a repeat performance, especially with Bear appearing so relaxed.

Perhaps you can imagine where this is going …

About the time we started the canter work, just after noon, the sky started to fall. One great crash of ice and my seemingly placid Bear lost his grip on reality.

Enter Mr. Hyde.

I was surprised. He’d been such a good boy and had suddenly turned into a brat!

“He’s not afraid of the ice — his timing is off,” said Coach noting the cool expression in Bear’s eyes, “He’s toying with you. We’re asking more of him now and he’s using the falling ice as an excuse to throw you off your game. … Who’s going to win?”

Enter Mrs. Hyde.

As conditions around us became more volatile, I confined our work to a 20 metre circle. Coach stood in the middle and called out a continuous stream of instructions to help me weather the storm of Shakespeare’s tempest and set him right.

Bear’s claws came out — first in the form of a mighty four-foot-off-the-ground twisting buck (the first of several free chiropractic adjustments ), followed by a scoot, a spook and then, the final straw — an abrupt stop and propulsion backwards.

Going backwards is difficult for a horse. Bear was making my life difficult by making his life difficult, when all I wanted was for him to go forward into a nice, sympathetic connection.

He was determined to test my determination.

Fine!

“You want to go backwards buddy … have at it!” I put my leg on and kept him going backwards (which is what he’d told me he wanted) until we almost backed into the kickboards. Then I tapped him sharply behind my leg with the whip to remind him who pays the bills (I always use the whip sparingly) and, while maintaining the connection he was so anxious to avoid, pressed him into the forward canter I wanted.

He was not happy about it, and tested me some more, but Bear’s bloodymindedness only made me more determined. There was no way he was getting away with this obnoxious behaviour.

The whole experience was exhausting both mentally and physically, but in the end Mr. Hyde receded into the shadow of Bear’s psyche and once again my boy was putty in my hands all achieved, I hasten to add, with a commitment to the integrity of the process and the help of a good coach.

I’m proud of this accomplishment even if marginally annoyed that he’d lulled me into a false sense of security in the first place. This experience has left me with the profound sense that if I can manage the importunate demands of a 1,200 lb horse flying off the handle, I should be able to handle pretty much anything.

As a horse mom it’s my responsibility to see that Bear engages appropriately with the world around him. Establishing boundaries and laying down the law in a horse-friendly way is part of that responsibility. Bear’s a honey but, like the testy child, he took advantage of my good nature, dragging me into a dangerous game in the process. It was a game in which I simply had to outsmart him. It was a game I had no choice but to win.

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

The View from the Other Side of the Fence …

And now for something completely different …

Some time ago I started a blog dedicated to the sonnets of Shakespeare “The Equine.”

Poet’s Paddock was born of my love for the work of William Shakespeare and the crazy coincidence that my horse, Bear (his barn name), came into my life with the registered name of “Shakespeare,” (his father being “Shakespeare In Love”). The fact that I enjoy writing poetry also factored in.

The idea was to try to see the world through my horse’s eyes and write it down in verse. Since his name is Shakespeare, the sonnet seemed the natural form for the poetry to take.

(There is a little free verse and other rhyming schemes thrown in for good measure …)

It’s all very tongue-in-cheek and has proven to be a wonderfully fun outlet for my poetic inclinations.

So, when you have a quiet moment and an inclination to catch a glimpse of life on the farm from the other side of the fence , feel free to visit Poet’s Paddock.

Shakespeare will enjoy your company.

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

The Happy Place

Strange weather, here in southern Ontario. A veritable roller coaster ride of temperatures and precipitation.

Last Wednesday, following a week of brutal sub-zero temperatures, we experienced a record high of 12C. With it all the snow of the previous week melted away, and the accompanying rainfall reduced the paddocks to a mass of mucky chaos. There’s nothing quite like negotiating a bog at the paddock gate and trying to extricate your horse without letting his paddock buddy bully his way out at the same time. It can be quite the dance. (Note to self: wear your wellies …)

Then on Thursday temperatures plummeted again.

The once sloppy mud holes by the gate froze into menacing rock-hard craters. Fetching Bear was an entirely different experience. The gate, which usually swings freely, had to be lifted over this quasi moonscape in order to clear a gap wide enough to squeeze Bear through. Meanwhile, he’s tripping over the unforgiving terrain while I’m praying he doesn’t wrench an ankle in the process.

And then … the mighty wind …

Before bringing Bear in I checked the wood and corrugated steel arena to see how noisy it was in there. It’s wont to rattle and hum under the stress of buffeting elements. The exposed northwest corner is a particularly spooky spot.

The winds were battering against its sides with a consistent drone and the occasional crash. Still, I figured if Bear had a chance to run about and get acclimated on his own, we might be able to have our lesson as scheduled. With this in mind, I groomed and tacked him up as usual and hoped for the best.

“Are you going to ride today?” a fellow horse mom asked uncertainly as she watched me getting ready.

“It depends,” I replied.

With horses it’s always useful to have an open mind. Decisions depend on what’s happening in the moment. In this case, everything hinged on Bear’s reaction to the whirlwind whipping wildly just beyond the arena walls.

With helmet on head, and Bear in hand, I trudged from the small barn through the gale to the arena. Once there I removed Bear’s sweat sheet, tied up his reins and set him loose. As expected, he bucked and reeled and snorted and flew in giant galloping strides from one end to the other. This continued for a couple of minutes until he finally stopped, faced me and, with a nod of his lowered head, indicated he was done.

“Hmmmm … Perhaps I can ride after all,” I thought optimistically.

I started to walk over to him. Bear looked relaxed enough. His neck was outstretched; his head, as I said, low. He’d found his happy place.

Then a crash of wind belted those corrugated walls and changed everything. A spike of adrenalin plunged with force through Bear’s prey animal veins — his head shot up; eyes bulged; ears pricked; nostrils flared; tail agitated; feet restless.

He eyeballed me for assurance.

“It’s okay, Bear,” I called gently while quietly continuing to approach.

I halted some 15 feet in front my snorting Bear and, with a gentle tilt of my shoulders in the quiet way of the horse, encouraged him to return to his happy place. His big, brown eyes softened as he began to relax his neck and back and lower his head again. In horse body language, head level or lower is a happy place.

… Bear in his happy place …

I stepped up and, with a pat on the neck and a sugar lump, reassured him that everything was okay. Then we walked hither and yon around the arena, Bear following me of his own free will like a giant puppy dog.

Meanwhile, the winds continued to roar their chaos. Violent gusts shocked the arena — rattling doors, whistling through cracks, banging the walls and quaking the roof … over here … over there … everywhere! Bear flinched a few times but, feeling safe in my presence, remained in his happy place as we continued our walk.

To test our progress I stopped near the spooky northwest corner and had Bear stand with his hind end to it. I walked on a further 10 feet and then turned to face him. My goal was to have Bear keep his focus on me, and his happy place, regardless of how agitated the arena became in the grips of Mother Nature’s fury. I’ve done this before when ice is  crashing off the roof. It works like a charm.

He managed well. When he became rattled he responded right away to my signal for the happy place. At one point a gust of wind banged against the wall nearby with such ferocity it even made me jump. Bear responded by side stepping over until he was standing beside me. We became each other’s port in a storm.

Our riding lesson turned into an unexpected session of ground work, but in the end it was exactly what we needed. There’s more than one way to ride out a storm. Finding, and being still in, your happy place is perhaps the best way of all.

Besides, there’s something magical about a horse choosing to stay when his flight instinct could so easily chase him away.

I must be doing something right.

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

The little matter of hay …

This week I received an email from the barn owner where Bear is boarded which noted that, for the foreseeable future, boarders will be charged a $30 per month hay surcharge.

Several factors, including last year’s drought and a drop in hay acreage, have contributed to the doubling of hay prices in recent months. ie. a round bale that cost $40 this time last year is now over $100. For some horse and barn owners this will be the proverbial straw that breaks the camel’s back on whether or not they can continue their stewardship of the horse.

Make no mistake, this is a serious situation. Already many horses in Canada, the U.S. and beyond have been abandoned, or prematurely sent to slaughter or euthanized simply because the cost of their upkeep has risen beyond their owner’s means.

It’s a fact of life. Good quality hay is a staple of the horse’s diet, so we must either pay what the market demands (even when greed becomes a factor which, some would say, it has) or, if we cannot, be forced into the unpleasant alternative.

Thankfully, Bear will be okay. Our barn manager is resourceful and we can manage the extra cost while being mindful of our budget. We have been assured that once the hay shortage has passed and prices correct themselves the surcharge will be dropped and board bills will be adjusted accordingly. When this might happen is anybody’s guess, of course.

Having said this, if it happened that I was ever unable to properly provide for my beautiful horse and there was no other in whom I could trust to see properly to his needs, I would be put in the very difficult position of having to decide whether or not to euthanize him. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.

I agree with French author and aviator, Antoine de Saint Exupery, when he wrote in his delightful book The Little Prince, ” … we are responsible forever for the things that we tame.” To me abandoning Bear would be like abandoning a child. I could not even consider it. So, to me the only viable alternative would be to ensure he does not suffer.

I am confident I won’t need to do anything quite this drastic. In my mind I see Bear living to a ripe old age where, when the time reveals itself, I may need to assist him to that plentiful pasture in heaven. My preference, of course, would be that he gently meet his eternal rest while out in the paddock happily eating hay.

Now, lest you think high hay prices only effect horse owners, you may wish to reconsider.

Cattle operations are in the same boat. In fact, anyone raising large animals and who relies on hay as a major source of fodder is feeling the sting of this shortage.

As a result, all of us can expect to pay more for food in the coming year. It cannot be avoided.

So really, I guess I’m simply giving you a heads-up.

Pray for a healthy dose of rain this year so we may all eat heartily.

Nurture what you love …

Dorothy
Horse Mom

*

Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2013

Peace and a Stable …

“We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature – trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence… We need silence to be able to touch souls.”

Mother Teresa

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One of the things I love about spending time at the stable is its inherent peace.

I walk through the door and the only sound I hear is the contented munching of hay as the horses reverently indulge their favourite pastime.

Bear will spy me as I walk through the door and nicker to me a soft greeting that warms my heart.

“Hi, Mr. Bear!” I’ll respond happily, and while eye-balling me he’ll nod his head up and down a couple of times in acknowledgement and then return to the important task of eating.

Though the stable is cool at this time of year and the horses are all cocooned in their respective blankets and stalls, there’s a peculiar warmth that pervades.

Peace is warm.

There have been times in my life where the only place I could go to get away from the incessant chatter in my head was the peace and quiet of the stable. All troubles and trials seemingly melted into the ether as I turned my attention to whatever horse was put in my charge for my two-hour visit.

Of course, during the past several years it’s been Bear who has worked patiently, as only horses can, to heal and restore my heart, mind and spirit. In his presence I am attentive. I lose myself in caring for his needs — grooming his coat til it shines; picking out his stall if it needs it; spoiling him with carrots and stud muffins, adjusting his blankets, exercising him.

My reward is to be present in his presence.

It’s such a gift.

Sadly, not everyone can, or wants to, spend time in a stable with a horse hoping to find peace.

I’d like to suggest, however, that peace can be found in any moment where we are fully engaged — mind, body, and spirit — with someone or something we love, or, as Mother Teresa so beautifully explained it, with Nature. A walk in the forest, by the ocean, in the park, just listening to the silence that is and finding peace in the experience of being lovingly present.

Peace is born of love. Love warms our hearts. Warm hearts incubate feelings of peace and love which can then be shared with the lives we touch.

Fighting for peace is the ultimate oxymoron. We can only love peace into our lives.

Peace brings stability.

The story of Christmas begins in a peaceful stable.

Warm wishes to you and your loved ones this Christmas season …

Nurture what you love … and in this may you find peace …

Dorothy (and Bear)
Horse Mom

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Copyright Aimwell CreativeWorks 2012