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UB came to us already gelded; it was the previous trainer’s last-ditch effort to calm him down and make him manageable. He had a reputation as a bad biter, and showing his teeth while making his ears disappear was indeed a favorite pastime of his. He loved to rush his webbing, scaring the bejeebers out of anyone who inadvertently walked too close.
Even though UB himself had told me in no uncertain terms that he would not hurt me, his body language sent a different message. As I worked to get him groomed and tacked, he would alternately snap his teeth at me, wing a hind hoof toward me, or try to trap me up against the wall with his body.
Pride went a long way toward keeping me from calling to Jerry for help unless I absolutely could not get something done by myself. I still had snippets of our driveway standoff rolling around in my head.
As the days went by and UB’s antics continued, I had a revelation. He wasn’t trying to hurt me—the teeth never touched skin, the hoof never connected, and he never actually crushed me against the wall. What he was doing was a fine job of desensitizing me. My flinchy-ness was slowly disappearing.
Where this was most noticeable was with the other horses. In taking care of Hamilton and Digger, I found myself humming as I curried and brushed and picked their feet. And then one day I found myself in a fully seated position in the stall, bandaging Hamilton’s legs. I was totally relaxed, thoroughly enjoying my task, and I hadn’t even given a thought as to whether there was a clear path to the door.
Good work, Ubster!
I became obvious that other people weren’t so sure about The Unbelievable, because he did tend to instill fear in those who weren’t part of his inner circle. But it seemed to me that with the combined efforts of me, Jerry and Sam, UB was becoming a much happier horse. I guess it helps to be understood. :)
As far as racing was concerned, it was hard to get too excited about the other horses. Hamilton just wasn’t into it. It wasn’t a soundness issue, although had he put any effort into his races, he wouldn’t have stayed sound long with his pigeon-toed stance.
As for Digger, he was a big, heavily muscled horse with huge, saucer-like feet. He, like Hamilton, had never shown much talent to the previous trainer, which was why they were in the first batch of horses to be sent our way.
Winter racing didn’t offer the type of races that might possibly move Digger up--turf races. Very long turf races.
Old habits die hard, and I looked at both horses as if I was still running ReRun. Digger might like a second career in Western Pleasure, but Hamilton, well, he’d need a job where looks didn’t matter It didn’t take long for Ham to finally decided that he had had quite enough of this racing business. The morning came when he let us know this in no uncertain terms—and poor Sam got the worst of it.
Daily Notes: I don’t know why I am having such a hard time with this section today. Perhaps it is that my SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) affliction is getting the best of me. I’ve been a bit sullen the past couple of days, but there is a blessing to report.
Amish Joe, our neighbor (denoted as such so as not to confuse the reader, since Owner Joe has been mentioned frequently) stopped by to take a look at our downstairs bathroom reno project. He came at Jerry’s request to give us a quote on the reconstruction.
This neighbor has been working hard to finish construction of his own house on the farm across the street. He desperately needs to move his growing family (the count, I believe, currently stands at 5 kids under the age of 7) from the one-room building that has housed them for a couple years into the “big house” that is nearing completion.
The work these guys do is phenomenal. And they always seem to go above and beyond. So we were a bit shocked at the hourly quote Joe gave us to rebuild our bathroom—it was way too low!
It was partial payback, he explained, for our helping them out when they “have a need.” Use of our phone and electric for charging their power tools, picking up milk for them when I do my grocery shopping, dropping off their loan payment at the bank when I’m headed that way—it really never crossed my mind that any of those things was that much help to them, but apparently they made the Amish life much easier!
We feel very, very blessed to have them for neighbors—so much so I’m considering asking if they would consider making us “honorary Amish.” With an addendum that says we can keep our cars, electric and indoor bathroom.
The photo I’ve included today is one from back in my high school days. I will apologize now to my good friend Teresa, who I will no doubt hear from as soon as she sees the pic. This was taken our senior year in high school at Diamond Oaks Career Development Campus (a nice way to say vocational school!) In case you didn’t guess, we were in the Horsemanship class. I will also apologize to my daughter for my fashion statement, as she would sooner die than appear in public looking like this.
Even though UB himself had told me in no uncertain terms that he would not hurt me, his body language sent a different message. As I worked to get him groomed and tacked, he would alternately snap his teeth at me, wing a hind hoof toward me, or try to trap me up against the wall with his body.
Pride went a long way toward keeping me from calling to Jerry for help unless I absolutely could not get something done by myself. I still had snippets of our driveway standoff rolling around in my head.
As the days went by and UB’s antics continued, I had a revelation. He wasn’t trying to hurt me—the teeth never touched skin, the hoof never connected, and he never actually crushed me against the wall. What he was doing was a fine job of desensitizing me. My flinchy-ness was slowly disappearing.
Where this was most noticeable was with the other horses. In taking care of Hamilton and Digger, I found myself humming as I curried and brushed and picked their feet. And then one day I found myself in a fully seated position in the stall, bandaging Hamilton’s legs. I was totally relaxed, thoroughly enjoying my task, and I hadn’t even given a thought as to whether there was a clear path to the door.
Good work, Ubster!
I became obvious that other people weren’t so sure about The Unbelievable, because he did tend to instill fear in those who weren’t part of his inner circle. But it seemed to me that with the combined efforts of me, Jerry and Sam, UB was becoming a much happier horse. I guess it helps to be understood. :)
As far as racing was concerned, it was hard to get too excited about the other horses. Hamilton just wasn’t into it. It wasn’t a soundness issue, although had he put any effort into his races, he wouldn’t have stayed sound long with his pigeon-toed stance.
As for Digger, he was a big, heavily muscled horse with huge, saucer-like feet. He, like Hamilton, had never shown much talent to the previous trainer, which was why they were in the first batch of horses to be sent our way.
Winter racing didn’t offer the type of races that might possibly move Digger up--turf races. Very long turf races.
Old habits die hard, and I looked at both horses as if I was still running ReRun. Digger might like a second career in Western Pleasure, but Hamilton, well, he’d need a job where looks didn’t matter It didn’t take long for Ham to finally decided that he had had quite enough of this racing business. The morning came when he let us know this in no uncertain terms—and poor Sam got the worst of it.
Daily Notes: I don’t know why I am having such a hard time with this section today. Perhaps it is that my SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) affliction is getting the best of me. I’ve been a bit sullen the past couple of days, but there is a blessing to report.
Amish Joe, our neighbor (denoted as such so as not to confuse the reader, since Owner Joe has been mentioned frequently) stopped by to take a look at our downstairs bathroom reno project. He came at Jerry’s request to give us a quote on the reconstruction.
This neighbor has been working hard to finish construction of his own house on the farm across the street. He desperately needs to move his growing family (the count, I believe, currently stands at 5 kids under the age of 7) from the one-room building that has housed them for a couple years into the “big house” that is nearing completion.
The work these guys do is phenomenal. And they always seem to go above and beyond. So we were a bit shocked at the hourly quote Joe gave us to rebuild our bathroom—it was way too low!
It was partial payback, he explained, for our helping them out when they “have a need.” Use of our phone and electric for charging their power tools, picking up milk for them when I do my grocery shopping, dropping off their loan payment at the bank when I’m headed that way—it really never crossed my mind that any of those things was that much help to them, but apparently they made the Amish life much easier!
We feel very, very blessed to have them for neighbors—so much so I’m considering asking if they would consider making us “honorary Amish.” With an addendum that says we can keep our cars, electric and indoor bathroom.
The photo I’ve included today is one from back in my high school days. I will apologize now to my good friend Teresa, who I will no doubt hear from as soon as she sees the pic. This was taken our senior year in high school at Diamond Oaks Career Development Campus (a nice way to say vocational school!) In case you didn’t guess, we were in the Horsemanship class. I will also apologize to my daughter for my fashion statement, as she would sooner die than appear in public looking like this.
glad to hear about the amish! they sure are handy! was wondering where the 18th post is? lost in translation?!
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