Of the many blessings of horsekeeping,

[here to stay]

Snot showers are not one of them.  With the foggy weather there is more blowing going on but dang it- one of the girls hit me with a blast from 10 feet away yesterday.  Right in the face.

[Woodpecker]

Ewww, good thing you love your girls so much...right in the face, ugh. I had no idea they were capable of aiming their snot so perfectly

[aoconnor]

Oh the joys! I love when I am grooming and get to the backend, and they let loose a wonderful poof of toot!! Geez Louise, must you pass gas overtime I am right behind you?!

[Deleted]

After having a mule, a jack, and more horses than I had bones to break, I found out a couple of things; That I really miss the horses but the mule and the jack...not so much...and that the horses had no conscious; They love you without reservation, will kick your brains out and still love you affectionately in the very next moment. I suppose that same ethic hold would hold true for spitting and pooting in one's face.

[here to stay]

Yesterday another 'not blessing' got me. A tail switched right across my face. Dang it stung.

[Deleted]

I miss the smell of my horses (no, not the flatulence) but just the aroma of them, whether it be on a cool fall morning or if they were lathered up and sweating after a good workout.

[aoconnor]

I think one of the best smells in life is horse sweat:-)

here to stay, oh I hate that darn tail switching! I have one mare that will do that on purpose when she is annoyed with me, it makes me so mad when she waits until I am on my knees wrapping her hind leg that swells sometimes, then she will start smacking me in the face with her tail, not appreciating at all that I am trying to help her!

[Woodpecker]

When I was a kid, my father owned race horses, trotters. I would get to go to the Roosevelt Raceway with him, when one of his horses was going to race. I loved walking through the big barn, with all the stalls and beautiful horses. Yes I did like the smell of the horses. My father was their trainer & I would ride with him on the sulky around the corn fields, up the street from us. Some of those "flying" poop smells weren't all that pleasant

[here to stay]

Woodpecker, I love driving in a sulky behind a hard trotting horse. It is a powerful feeling.

Every once in awhile, I will bury my face under one of the girls' manes for a good sniff of the horsy odor. It's not the - ahem- other odors of horse keeping but the slightly acrid smell of sun on a body that is so wonderful.

[Woodpecker]

From all I remember, it was indeed a powerful feeling. My father was a pro, I was a child...to me it was a ride of joy in that sulky. Memories of all my horse days and the love I've always had for them. Up until I was about 25 years old, I would go riding, English saddle. I went with my younger sister the last time I rode. I told the stable owner that I hadn't rode a horse in a very long time & please give me a nice gentle one. He brought out a huge dapple gray and said "he's a good horse, a 90 year old rides him all the time." Well my sister led the way, until my horse took off in a gallop! I tried to rein him in for a while, before he stopped...at which time I promptly jumped off & walked back to the stable and the horse went back by himself too I know we are always suppose to "get up on that horse again" but it was too frightening to me and the desire never came back.

[Deleted]

There's nothing like a good horse wreck to cure what ails you, or at least make you forget it!! Glad you made it back safe and sound.

[aoconnor]

The first time I really got bit by the horse bug was when I was 6 years old. We went to visit my great aunt and uncle in New York City. WE went a lot of great places, saw all the sights. Then my great uncle, who was in his upper 80's at the time took us out to a stable somewhere fairly close to the city, and he pulled out his champion Saddlebred stallion named Crown Prince. He had an English saddle on and I hadn't seen on of those before, only western as we lived in Arizona. My elderly great uncle made that horse do wonderful things! Dressage moves, short rearing on command, dancing and prancing and side passing and so many amazing things. I had never seen anything like it before in my life! I was so smitten, I begged for a horse the minute we got off the airplane back in Phoenix. I took lessons for a year, then my dad bought me my first horse, a Mustang named Paco. That horse and I learned everything there was to know about galloping wildly through the dessert with just his halter and lead rope on, playing in the small ponds in the spring after a good rain, cutting around Greasewood bushes like we were chasing bandits in the old west. I taught him how to rear on command:-) I loved it all! I am still smitten and riding all these years later (I'm 52), and have 36 of my own horses I care for. I will always love it all:-)

[Deleted]

Some of the names I will never forget; Blue Goose, Anchor Hips, RIP, Big John, Amos Moses, Schlitz, Speck, Golden Rod, Satan, each with a story behind the name...and oh yes, the big strawberry roan mare named Dolly who almost sent me to the here after. The best bred horse I ever had was "Cisco", out of "Mexico", by "Truck and Trailer".

[Woodpecker]

aoconnor,those are wonderful memories & you still have your deep love of horses! I'm afraid of them now, read above Our horse that we rode when young, his name was Blue Boy. I was thrown from that horse, numerous times, he tried to roll over with me on him, countless times, but I wasn't afraid. Young and foolish maybe?

@deerjohn, the only race horse that my father owned and actually won a race, was named after my grandpa "Gussy Wind" was his name. My grandfathers name was Gus. The other two were Scarlet Ransom, and Helen's Girl, named after my mother. My father was the bugle player, that started each race at Roosevelt Raceway. This was when he owned horses, trained the trotters and was a Union Carpenter. There were countless accidents with my father and horses. Once Gussy Wind got spooked as my father was holding onto
his lead, he reared up and pulled my father's arm out of the socket. That didn't stop my dad, no way! Fun times to remember!

[here to stay]

In my youth what I called a good horse was one that was 'spirited'. Usually that word was synonymous with hyper, idiotic, dangerous, temperamental and breathtakingly beautiful.

In my old age, a good horse was patient, sensible, safe and cooperative.

But I will say that no matter what my stage of horsemanship was, I couldn't stand a mean horse. If I got killed by a horse, it would have been my own stupidity that did it. I've seen a few mean horses in my day and they were not for me.

The closest I came was a mare who tried every vice once. She bit, kicked, crowded, bolted, rubbed, etc once. When it didn't change the situation, she never tried again. At the point she had tried everything that occurred to her, she became the best of horses. The most sensative riding partner I ever had.

The least sensative was a big gelding that would go into a canter and simply not stop. He didn't run away- he could be slowed to almost a canter in place and turned at will but his dang legs kept going. Weird. To get him to drop out of a canter, I had to yard on him. One of the most satisfying training coups I ever had was finding a method to teach him to stop pleasantly.