Justice has a name…..
In our little herd, we have Peanut and Butter – two grey mares of around 15.3 / 16h (haven’t officially measured) but a nice size nevertheless. Then there is Dezzi – a feisty little Welsh mare, and then our two littlies – Elvis and Snowbell.
Peanut is soft. Her body, her eyes, her nature – everything about her is good natured and amicable. A real easy girl to get along with. Butter is a bit more difficult, more stubborn, but once in the saddle, she will (reluctantly) comply with your requests, but you have to keep repeating the question! Both have that “endurance horse” trot that is very economical, with their heads carried long and low, and once they get going, they look like they could carry on for hours. Peanut more floaty, Butter workman like in her efforts.
Dezzi has spirit, the eyes of a dreamer, the legs of a supermodel and a kick like a donkey. She went to an instructor for a month which was over far too soon, and now that she’s back, she will be used for riding lessons on the slightly bigger kids. Her spirit is awesome. She is a gentle soul with a streak of mischief in her that can cause two riders in quick succession to get dumped in exactly the same spot in the arena, but when you establish your authority, she retreats in minutes and becomes meek and mild. I know that with time, the right training and gentle care, she will be a stunning little show pony. But its as they say – pretty is as pretty does.
Elvis is my rock, my hero. A furry little Shetland, with a woolly winter coat, dark chestnut with black main and tail, and a white mark here and there. Nothing phases him, and the only thing he ever gets grumpy about, is when his grazing time is interrupted or when the food is slow in coming. He accepts anything, carries everything and does all of that with the same even temperament, slogging forward, carrying the world on his shoulders.
Then there is Snowbell. Snowbell is a tiny little thing that is about hip high, but was ‘blessed’ with some seriously accurate back feet that can deliver justice in quick and harsh blows to the body / leg / backside of anybody that crosses her line (wherever she might decide to draw it). She is in charge and knows it well. The walk-in open stable is there for all to enjoy as they choose. Should Snowbell decide she feels like some company, they can all stand happily and doze together. But she can change her mind in an instant, and with ears pulled flat, she reverses towards those whose real or imagined transgression deserves a dose of her swift justice. The only real opposition she gets is from the sole male figure in the herd – Elvis. I’ve never seen him retaliate, but she also never seems to aim any of her aggravation against him either. When she wants a little lie down, he dutifully stands guard over her, and where she goes, he follows. She will happily share a pile of hay with him, where any of the others gets chased off with bared teeth and a squeal if they dare approach her.
It’s a happy little herd, and I love to watch the powerplays, the silly games they play in the paddock, or just the peacefulness of it all at the end of the day as they graze with the last of the winter sun just dipping below the horizon, leaving me with a smile as I smell the feint smell of wood shavings, and listen to the quiet chewing, the odd snort and a deep sigh of contentment.
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