Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Bombay's Embarrassing Moment
So, today I went out with the goal to spread two particular piles around, but the problem is that the horses like to poop on those piles of sand. I had to first clean up all the manure. As I was hauling the manure wagon off to empty it, Lostine made a beeline for the sand piles to take another dump right after I had cleaned them. I ran over there to catch her manure in the fork, but she changed her mind and decided she didn't need to poop after all. Still, I didn't trust her to keep those piles of sand manure-free until I could spread them, so I kept the wagon and manure fork in the arena while I shoveled the sand into a wheelbarrow.
First Gabbrielle started playing with the manure fork and I had to keep chasing her off before she split the wood handle. She finally gave up on her game, and Bombay moved in. I hollered at him several times, and he'd run off, only to return as soon as I got busy.
Suddenly, I heard a crash followed by frantic hoof beats. I spun around to find Bombay galloping across the arena dragging the manure fork behind him. It was stuck to his tail. When it finally fell off, I found several gray tail hairs embedded underneath a big sliver of wood. I showed him his tail hair in the fork and said, "That's why we don't play with the fork, Dude!"
Of course, that's not why. I just don't want the horses to break the handle by chewing on it. But breaking the handle doesn't affect the horses. It only affects my pocketbook. Having their tail hairs torn out is another story. Obviously, Bombay didn't learn anything from it.
In other news, I took Bombay for a walk while it was cold, windy and cloudy outside. I tried to stay downwind of the coyote dens, and he was sniffing and huffing the air the whole way. I was shivering in my jacket and just 15 minutes later the sun came out and I was sweating. So, I made Bombay carry my jacket all the way home on his back. I told him there would be no jigging or spooking, because if the jacket falls on the ground, he loses. Amazingly, he understood. He walked all the way back and delivered my jacket safe and sound.
I was looking at him and creating a cartoon in my head of a really wide, barrel-chested cowboy leading a horse that is wearing a jacket, front legs through the arm holes and everything. Someone on the street stops him to ask why his horse is wearing a jacket, and the cowboy says, "I got too hot."
I don't know why I find that to be so funny.