Pasture 5 is a LONG way down the lane. I was tired, it was hot, but I felt I
SHOULD work with her. Now, a “should” in that context ought to have tipped me off
right away that my judgement was impaired. But it didn’t.
The mares were all at the bottom of the pasture, clearly
enjoying the grass that had just been mowed. So fragrant, even to me!
We didn’t work for long—maybe five minutes. But it was long
enough, apparently, to offend a sensitive nearly-three-year-old.
The next day, when I went to get her, Nevada took off
running as soon as I got anywhere close. She’s a smart little mare: She took
the entire herd down to the creek, where I couldn’t get to her without wading
in and making a big fuss. Clearly, she wanted no part of me and my stupid
games! Only then did I stop to see things from her perspective, and I couldn’t
blame her for being offended.
The mares stayed in the water a long time—I could hear them
splashing. I deserved to be dissed, so I had to laugh—but I just waited her
out. I had my camera with me, and went off and took some photos.
Eventually, they all came back out, running and rolling and
bucking and farting. Nevada soon spotted me, and then the real games began.
She’d chase and bite at one horse or another to make them run, the stinky
little mustang, to provide her with cover so she could “hide” behind them.
No matter. I made sure she kept running, and that she knew
that the running was my idea, not hers. She’s such a joy to watch—that natural
self-carriage and collection of hers is something to see.
Eventually, after several trips around the pasture
(interestingly, the rest of the mares didn’t move unless she made them
move—obviously, they knew I wasn’t after them), Nevada slowed down and deigned
to look at me, kind of sideways. I approached slowly, stopping and/or turning
away to reward her every time she glanced in my direction. Once she quit
running, she didn’t argue much, and didn’t try to move away as I approached.
When I got up to her, at first I just petted her until she
relaxed a little, then walked away from her for a minute. Next time, I showed
her the halter, then walked away when she relaxed. Then I put it around her
neck and asked her to flex a little—no dice at first. She was still trying to
ignore me. But eventually she gave just a bit, and I dropped the halter and
walked away.
By this time, she’s looking at me like I’m crazy, right? But
each time I walk back to her, she’s a little softer.
Eventually, I did put the halter on her, flex her, thank
her, take it off, and walk away clear out of the pasture. She watched me but
didn’t offer to follow. That’s OK. Next time.
It’s a lesson I won’t forget.
[This wonderful photo of Nevada and her friends is copyrighted by my good friend at AimingHigh Photography, used by permission.]
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