Saturday, June 23, 2012


I went out to the barn tonight to bring Trigger in from turnout, and when he heard my car, he put his head up in the air to listen and confirm it was me.  I slowed down, rolled my window down, and hollered to him.  He trotted over to the gate.   How awesome is that?  Yeah, I do love this horse.

I parked the car and walked back to get him.  He was waiting patiently for me:

He had clearly enjoyed at least one good roll while he was out there.

I had just been cleaning the house, and was planning to shower as soon as I got home, so I went to the barn in what I'd been wearing--stretch pants and a tank top.  I opened the gate, put his halter on, and right then, a couple of fat raindrops fell.  Great...  Oh well.  Oops, those aren't raindrops--they're big giant hailstones!  Trigger didn't like them hitting the roof of the hangar near the gate, and was kind of spazzing out, plus neither of us was enjoying them hitting US.  So I took him back through the still-open gate, released the lead rope, and he trotted over between two trees and just huddled there.  I was standing at the gate, with hail hitting me harder an harder every second, and decided to join Trigger.  It probably helped a little, but I was still being pelted with hail, and now also juniper "crap" (the dead material on the tree that falls out in a strong wind or, you know, hail).  So I got exfoliated on all my bare skin, I guess.

It didn't let up for a while, but Trigger left the cover and went out into the worst of it, with his tail to the wind and his head down in grazing position, but he wasn't actually eating.  He drooped his ears to protect them from hail getting in, I assume, and just stood there miserably.

I asked him if he wanted to go in now, and he looked agreeable, so I clipped the rope back on and we headed out of the pasture.  The hail was still pelting down, and now there was rain mixed in.  It was pretty miserable, so I started jogging, and Trigger happily trotted along exactly in time and at the same pace.  He did not love all the puddles, plus all the heavy machinery near the arena, but cooperated just fine.  He got to his pen, and resumed the position, until I jiggled his grain (an hail pellets) at him.  He started scarfing it down.  His pen doesn't have any trees or other shelter, so I asked the barn manager if she would please move him at least to the pen next door which does have trees, or possibly even into a stall (there's an empty one) overnight.  Wonder if it'll happen...

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