She’s a Morgan or Morgan mix, I’m not sure which. H has decided to steer away from Arabs, preferring horses that aren’t quite so prone to psychosis. And Avalon is a sweetheart. Friendly and laid-back from the very first introduction.
But a little too inquisitive for her own good. Right now she’s quarantined from the other horses, and so I take care to clean up her enclosure last. Horses seem as scent-oriented as dogs, so naturally she was very interested in the contents of the shit-wagon.
Very interested indeed.
So much so that she suddenly decided to climb in.
She got her knees into the wagon, then decided that was a very bad idea and tried to hop over it, which went about as well as you’d expect. With luck she won’t try that again.
H: “I didn’t think you could bend those!”
Me: “She’s a horse. They routinely bend the unbendable.”
In my rather extensive experience with shit shoveling for horses… worked best for me to tie them up at the far end of the enclosure. Then I could do my job without their attention. My saddle horse used to LOVE to boot me in the rear when I was not looking at him. He resented being tied, but such is life. 🙂 Especially for goofy horses.
The only one I ever tied was Paulo the Stallion from Hell, but he had gotten too dangerous to be near. Some of H’s earlier mares, though, I always knew the relative positions of the horse and the fence because they could be unpredictable and wanted an escape plan. The goofy ones like Comet can be annoying, but don’t offer injury or property damage.
Before today.
Generally I used to use the swap-over method: put ’em into a pen next to the field; clean field, put horse back in, and then clean pen. Only one pony I ever minded being in the field with me while I cleaned, would insist on following me around like a lovesick puppy. No head-butting or anything. Just would stand there, next to me 🙂
She has a nice looking face, and she’s a pretty color.
I hate trying to clean our shelter with the Girls in the small pasture. It’s 15×15, which is real small when you’re the littlest one of 5. Everyone wants to come in and see what I’m doing. Especially once it’s time for fresh straw to go down…oat straw is the horse equivalent of crack, or meth.
I’m looking forward to spring, and fencing out the big pasture, so I can turn them out “over there” and get the shit moving done.