Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Stood Up

So for those anticipating the farrier success story, prepare to be disappointed. The asshole never even showed. I called him twice and left a message and he never got back to me. Good thing I got to the barn so early to wait for him. Needless to say, he won't be doing my horses anymore. It's not like I called a day before and told you I needed you to come out pronto. I gave him NINE DAYS notice. I'm not even thats pleased with how Red's feet look. Of course, now I have to go through the pain and suffering of finding a new farrier.

I gave Red his jump school anyway. I started off with a two stride line with one fence as a big crossrail and the other as a 2'4 vertical. Red gave it a long look coming up to it, but not in a hesitating way--more like, "Do I need to jump both of those at once or not?"  He decided two strides was enough to take it as two seperate jumps (uh, hello.) and did it really nicely. We did it once more to the right, then twice to the left before I set the crossrail up to a 2'7 vertical. He rode that really, really nicely, too.

I switched the jumps over to an oxer with the 2'4 front rail, 2'7 back rail, and a 3' spread.

Just like the bending line I was doing awhile back, it was really hard to get the right striding coming up off the rail. We were coming up to it with way too much room to take off from a long spot, but adding the extra stride to get in closer was getting us almost on top of the jump. I let Red figure out what he wanted to do and just kept steady leg on. Surprisingly, he picked the short spot and saved our asses all three times we went over it. He didn't touch the rails a single time though.

While we were going around, the crack split off of his foot and left a not-tender-at-all spot on his hoof.

He wasn't off on it today either, so I guess we're in the clear. It almost looks now like he blew an abcess, but seeing the crack before, I don't think that was it at all. I think it was from stomping his feet at the flies.

Bobby had a lesson this afternoon. I got some video for his sales page, and a few pictures. CL's daughter actually did pretty decently this time around. Maybe because her mom was pissed at her for some reason and she couldn't get away with as much whining and bitching as she usually does.

Today, I made up some really ghetto dressage letters that I wrote out on computer paper and then duct taped to wire hangers. I measured out the small arena and did the dressage test twice with Red. He was reluctant to pick up the trot at A after the free walk across the arena, and he kept anticipating every single move so that he was going into his transitions too early. It was so ridiculously hot (96 at 10:30am), I worked on the problem spots right in the middle of the test instead of going back and starting the whole thing over. Tomorrow, the spurs come out.

Bobby got out of work since I was ready to die of heat stroke, but I gave him a bath. He was grazing at the gate when I was done with Red, totally ready to come in. He was sweaty and buggy, so he was actually really good for his bath. (Red got one after his ride, too.) They both got doused in bug spray so they wouldn't stomp too much in their stalls, and huge piles of hay.

Now for story time. Ridiculous story time. I got to the barn at 9:30. I put both horses out in the field then brought in their grain. I had left enough yesterday for last night and this morning because I was waiting for my supplements to get here. Imagine my surprise that when I started to stack the grain to see that both Bobby and Red still had their AM bags of grain! So I brought them back in to eat their breakfast and the whole barn started screaming their heads off. Apparently NO ONE got fed this morning! The BO is well known for being a total forgetful looney at times--like leaving horses tied to stalls even after he's done with stalls, skipping water buckets that need to get filled, forgetting to put shavings in, etc. But how hard is it to remember that there are fifteen horses that get grain every single morning. Oh. My. Gosh.

No comments:

Post a Comment

If you can't say anything nice, fuck off.