Three stories

The UBF's birthday came and went. He had a carrot or two and we sang to him, which he obviously appreciated. His lunging is coming on a treat but we noticed that he is most definitely stiffer on one side of his body and it was decided an osteopathy session was needed. Ed was a very good boy for this. He was pulled, manipulated, pushed and stretched - looking on with curiosity at the woman who was treating him. He has this very chilled nature about him, trusting and good. The osteopath manipulated his poll and jaw, seemingly doing nothing to the uneducated observer, and he licked and yawned at the release. All seemed fine until dinner time and he couldn't chew at all! His cute wonky nostril had been un-wonked and he had to learn to eat all over again - poor UBF. The osteopath had to make a number of visits so that he was able to eat and now that his jaw is completely aligned it's funny to think we didn't see how crooked it had been.

Ed and his wonky jaw

I learnt from a friend of a friend of a friend, that Ed's dad is such a cool character. Apparently he is so laid back that small children can ride him bare back - and that is something very rare for a pure bred Spanish stallion. It turns out that the UBF has inherited all of those genes and then some - he is so chilled he is horizontal. This week he was introduced to umbrellas which didn't faze him at all, in fact he wanted to play with it with his teeth. And lunging over tarpaulin is easy for him too, even in trot and canter. It turns out that with his calm character and trust in myself and his trainer, the UBF can do things that would have most horses running for their lives.

Umbrellas and tarpaulins

Every morning, after I have fed, hayed and mucked out the fields, I check over the horses for cuts, scrapes and apply their fly spray for the day. The UBF has sensitive heels which go all scabby in the summer, so I lather the area in sudocreme - lovingly shipped from the UK as we can't buy it here in Mallorca. I noticed this morning that under his belly, near his penis, there were fly bites and crusty scabs (it's a grotty job being a horse owner!) He hates me touching that area, so with caution I put a little cream on at which point he flung his head round to warn me he didn't like it. I applied a little more and he promptly bit me on the bum. My fault. My fault entirely. He had warned me, and I should have listened. I should have worked much more slowly to convince him that the cream was OK but instead I was in a hurry, wanting to get the job done without considering the horses feelings on the matter. Lesson learnt, number 562. 

Horses are always teaching us if only we are prepared to listen.