I'm still here, just. Clinging on at times and wondering how life got so complicated. The horses are so grounding at moments like these, the routine of the day being dictated by feed times and mucking out. No lying in bed for me, or feeling sorry for myself, when so many animals rely on me for their survival. The UBF is careering towards being five years old. There is still that tiny voice in my head who nags me, telling me that the UBF is not far along enough in his education, telling me that he should be competing in dressage competitions, hacking out and hopping cross-poles with ease. The truth is that he is nowhere near doing any of these things and my true self is more than happy about this. 99% of me has stopped comparing my horse with others, I'm working on that other 1%!
The (NOT so ) Ugly Brown Foal's days are mostly spent in his huge field, taking regular naps on the deep pile of straw he has in his shed. He saunters slowly to the gate for his breakfast, never in a hurry to do anything with speed. He pulled his Christmas carrots out of his feed bucket, not liking the look of these foreign, orange objects. He has grown a spectacularly fluffy coat, his mane is tufty and spiky after being rubbed out over the summer and his hooves are cracked from such dry weather. He looks like a delinquent. He looks like an over-grown pony who has wintered out on the hills of Exmoor.
To his credit, his lunging is developing brilliantly and he has carried a rider around the arena a few times. He was the gentlest horse on the farm with a friends child, nuzzling him sweetly and exploring this little person with such care - despite his enormous size. He shares his dinner nicely with the dog. He wore his Christmas fancy dress without fuss. And he stood on a pallet. Small wins, happy pony.
Happy New Year All.
