Games to keep your human happy

Henk writes; 

Those of us who live in northern climates know all too well how hard it can be to keep our humans happy and sane through the long winter months. While we horses just accept each day for what it is, the poor humans fuss and worry, grumble about having to shovel the driveway and defrost the ice from our water buckets, twist their delicate knees and ankles hauling hay bales through the snow, and worst of all, grow bored and sour riding us around in circles in the arena.

Every horse has a repertoire of activities to keep her human on her toes, but let me remind you that winter is the most important time to practice these. Don’t let your human slip into hibernation and weight-gain; you know it will just be that much more work to get her back into mental and physical shape in the spring.

Of course there are the old tried-and-true ways to liven up an arena ride: spooking at snow sliding off the roof, cats climbing in the rafters, and funny shadows cast by the lights. But, amusing as they are, these require a fair amount of physical exertion on the horse’s part, and the more clever humans eventually catch on to them, so they may lose their effectiveness over time.

Horsenally, I prefer groundwork, especially in the winter. My very favourite is the big exercise ball. I find that showing even the tiniest amount of interest in the ball can convince Lil that I want to play soccer with her, and can lead to lots of good fun that hardly calls for any effort from me. She’ll kick that ball at me and away from me, and follow it around the arena gently dribbling it with her toe while I just tag along behind her, looking mildly interested and occasionally taking a quick turn bopping the ball with my nose or foreleg. The look of delight this brings to Lil’s face is worth the effort, and of course it’s excellent exercise to help keep her fit.

Mila practices the ball game with Muriel

Another game to increase your human’s exercise level during those dull winter months can be played in the paddock. Simply forget your name, while standing far from the gate in the deepest snow you can find, then watch her high-step through the drifts, arms flailing, boots full of snow, holding out a carrot and trying to hide the lead shank (as if that’s fooling anybody!).  Of course it’s critical to make the human complete the exercise in order to gain the most benefit from it, so you must resist the temptation to meet her half-way just to get to that carrot sooner. Remember, patience is key when working with your human.

Once your human’s winter-soft condition improves sufficiently, you can increase the intensity and duration of the workout by having one of your friends remove your halter and hide it in the snow. Just make sure it’s not in a place she’ll think to look too quickly. This game can provide excellent amusement for you and your paddock buddies as well as exercise for your human.

Finally, don’t forget to take advantage of weather and snow conditions when planning your human’s activities. The more you can ball up the snow in your feet, grow icicles in your mane and feathers (if you have them), the more energy your human will have to expend in grooming you before riding. This can help build muscle-tone, improve circulation, and calm an unsettled mind (hers, not yours). If you do a particularly good job, the grooming may provide sufficient exercise and she may forgo riding you altogether, which is a perhaps the most favourable outcome of all.

I urge you try these games yourself. You may even feel inspired to invent some of your own. 

Happy winter!

Barney

Henk writes:

I’ve been meaning to write about Barney for months, and now he’s dead. He sang for his breakfast as usual this morning, walked over to the big round hay bale, lay down and died. 

Lil went into the paddock just after that to fill the water trough and saw several horses standing around Barney, pawing his body and nuzzling his face. That’s how she knew he was dead.

Barney was a donkey. Our farriers saved him from an old cow-barn where he stood knee-deep in manure and hardly ever moved. He didn't like living with cows. They talked Barney’s old (and it turns out dying) owner into letting them take Barney to our farm, where he spent what was left of his long life in a big pasture with horses who soon became his friends (after they got over their fear of his long ears and strange voice!).

His new humans spent hours brushing the horrible mattes out of Barney’s long grey-and-white coat, and re-built his diseased hooves so he could walk more comfortably. When someone who knew about such things told them a donkey’s coat could not repel water the way a horse’s coat could (they’re desert animals, after all), they bought him two spiffy blankets to wear.

Barney and friends

Of course those blankets caused some excitement in the herd. You know how some horses are – change ANYTHING in their world and it’s cause for panic! Harley, Targui, and a couple of the other horses felt the need to go chase Barney around because he looked so different in his new coat. He seemed quite worried for a minute (the horses were of course much bigger, and he could no longer run), but then Moose and Ronan took charge of the situation. They literally surrounded Barney, one on each side, and put the boots to any horse that tried to come near him. Clearly, Barney had been smart enough to figure out which horses to make friends with: Moose is a 17-hand Belgian-cross, and Ronan is part Clydesdale. They’re normally the mellowest of beasties, but not when the bullies tried to pick on their donkey!

It was Moose, Ronan, and our Canadian horse Louis who were with Barney when he died. Louis tried the hardest to get him to stand up, pawing him over and over again. Moose pushed his big muzzle into Barney’s face. Ronan stayed with him after the others had wandered off, standing watch the way one horse sometimes stands over a herd-mate who is sleeping. Just like before, he chased off any horse except Moose and Louis who tried to come near. Even in death, Barney was his special donkey.

No one is quite sure how old Barney was, but the best guess seems to be somewhere between 40 and 50. It seems old age just caught up. Not a bad way to go when you think about it – with a full stomach and surrounded by your friends.

We’ll miss you, Barney. Rest in peace.

Food for Thought

Henk writes:

There are those who’d say that we Friesians have won the genetic lottery of the horse world, and I’m not one to argue. I’m sorry about the lack of humility, but it’s not hard to see that we’re like an extended family consisting entirely of George Clooneys and Denzel Washingtons and Angelina Jolies, and Scarlett Johanssons. Ridiculously gorgeous. Talented, too. Oh, and did I mention charming?

But there is one very important aspect of horse life where we’ve decidedly drawn the short straw. Food. We’re what’s euphemistically referred to as “easy keepers.” Another way of putting it is that we just need to look at food to put on weight. Your average Friesian can maintain his 1200 pounds of gorgeousness on a diet that would starve a goat. That just isn’t fair.

I live across the aisle from our Thoroughbred rescue, Beau. This little nipper is nine months old, nothing but legs and attitude, and a massively overactive metabolism. You should see the buckets of food that go into that stall twice a day! Beet pulp, half a bale of second-cut hay full of alfalfa, specially-formulated grain for babies, vitamins, carrots, apples….

And what do I get? One skinny flake of grassy hay, a little beet pulp, and a handful of “grain.” Lil thinks she’s fooling me with the grain, but I know it’s nothing but a forage pellet. Mostly hay. But it does taste good, and gives me something different to chew on. For the minute or two it takes to eat it!

OK, I can hear you thinking, Beau’s only nine months old and growing like a weed, so he needs the extra nutrition. Ha! Not so fast! Mila’s nine months old too, but she’s a Friesian. You think she gets to load up on buckets-full of feed? No chance! It’s hay and vitamins for her, thank you very much. And besides, Beau’s not the only skinny-legged critter in the barn. The others are all grown-ups, and still they get volumes of food the mere thought of which makes me dizzy.

So I tell myself, as I listen to these wretched bone-racks chewing away until all hours of the night, long after my starvation ration is both eaten and digested, that I’d outlast them all in a famine. A day or two without food and you’d be able to play their ribs like a xylophone, while I’d still be as sleek as a seal. Besides, I’m saving Lil all kinds of money on the food she doesn’t have to feed me. One more reason (as if she needs one!) for her to like me best. Take THAT you skeletal eating machines!

Oh, who am I kidding? I’d learn to do Piaffe for an extra scoop of grain every night!

Kindergarten

Henk writes:

Lil's decided it's never too early to start teaching our babies some manners. Some pictures from the first kindergarten session.

Our friend Muriel, introducing Mila to the big ball and a barrel.

Rita and Cisco the Canadian-cross. He can be a little pushy!

Beau the Thoroughbred. NOTHING scares this boy.