Ibn was our first El Brato. Now every foal is at one time or another an El Brato. Yesterday however, Ibn was definitely everything that name insinuates. Like today it was a beautiful spring day. I even wore a sleeveless shirt. Ibn had been so good the last time I rode him I was excited about riding him again. Little did I know what was in store for me. I suppose he might have just been having one of those days as we all do once in a while, but I doubt it. He has such a sweet expression one would never guess that underneath that sweet expression lies a spoiled little brat.
It started well enough, except he wouldn’t move over for me to get the quip off of the gate. I had forgotten to get it before I mounted him. I was going to just leave it there, but at the last minute I decided it would be better to have it, and not use it than not to have it, and need it. Good thing I took it anyway. Now mind you even when he’s acting bratty he doesn’t do anything bad, like buck or rear or anything like that, its little annoying things. He’s more like a “Dennis the Menace,” looking at you with those big innocent eyes saying “what?”
Off we went my spirits high reveling in the day. I had even remembered to put on sunscreen, bring my camera, and everything. When I first asked him for a trot I should have been warned because he wasn’t really enthusiastic about it, but went into a nice posting trot. I’m not fond of posting as I’ve stated before, so I sat back, and forced him to collect. Well that didn’t go over very well as he flipped his head, and continued in his fast trot. I’m just as stubborn as he is so I continued bumping him till we got to the narrow rocky, skinny path through the trees. Annoyingly he came to a stop, and when I pushed him forward he just happened to pick his way closest to the trees so I scratched my arm.
We got through that, and I pushed him into a trot only to get that fast posting trot again. By this time I knew, it was not going to be a fun ride. Determined to make him work I pushed on. Up to this time Ibn had not really worked up a good sweat. Now that can mean one of two things either he was in great shape or I wasn’t working him hard enough. I know for a fact that he’s not in that good of shape so I was determined to give him a good workout whether he liked it or not, so I continues to push him. When we came to the little gully that leads down to the road to Baker’s land, he all but refused to walk down it. Ibn doesn’t like rocks. He is after all a prissy city boy. Too bad so sad is my reply, and down the gully we went.
When we came to the two horses suddenly he acted all studly. He knows better than that, and when I corrected him there he goes flipping his head again. Of course this only made me more determined to make him behave. It’s about this time I’m also thinking maybe I’ll have Rudy ride him, and I’ll ride Marina. Marina may be a pistol, but she behaves herself, and now that I’m getting used to her gait, she’s becoming the easier ride.
We go down the first turnoff, and I let him relax a bit, besides we are coming to a good sized hill, and he has to walk up, and down the rocky ridge. The minute we turn the corner to cross the ridge in the opposite direction, he picks up the pace only because it turns towards home. The road winds the other way, and he sees the ridge. I can feel the deflation in his little mind, as he slows to climb the ridge. The good thing is that I don’t have to worry about him taking a misstep as he carefully, and I really mean carefully picks his way over the rocky ridge, and down again.
We come to the Y, and regretfully I don’t lead him back home, but in the opposite direction, and then if that wasn’t bad enough I ask him to trot. Woe is he, you’d think I was asking him to go on a 100-mile trek. Each time I ask for a trot he shows his displeasure by flipping his head. Finally we come to the grassy knoll, and to add insult to injury, now I ask him to canter. Ibn has such a smooth easy canter, but not today, he all but galloped down the road, tucking his head only when I forced him to. He is being such a brat that I don’t let him slow down even when we have to climb to the top of the knoll. I let him relax by letting him trot as long as the path is soft ground, relenting only when it gets rocky.
Down the opposite side of the knoll I let Ibn walk, as he needs to cool down. He’s worked up a sweat in the nice weather, and he needs to walk to build up his endurance. We take the trails around the other side of the ridge, and head back to the grassy knoll. True to form, I ask him to canter again, across the knoll, and up to the other meadow. Well he thought we were heading back home when we went to go across to the other long meadow, and he took off like a bat out of Hades. With the quip in my hand I lost my balance, and had to grab on to the horn to keep my seat. I hate that. With all my pain issues I no longer have the strength I used to have making it difficult to grip, and keep my seat. Luckily Ibn does respond to vocal commands, and when I yell at him he pulls up. I have to spin him around to keep him from going back towards home much to his dismay.
I point him in the right direction, and we proceed down the other long meadow. I trot him for a while, and then when we get to the rocks we slow up. He acts as though he’s never been through here before, and even takes a sideways jump when he thinks he sees something. We walk back the length of the meadow, down to the main road, and finally he gets to go home. It was a good workout for him, and a better one for me. He took two hours and 11 minutes to do the 10 miles. I unsaddle him, get myself something to drink, and get out the stethoscope. It takes me forever to find his heartbeat. Give me a break I’ve never had to take a horses pulse before. We walked most of the way home, and it took me about five minutes to unsaddle, and refresh my self. His pulse is 48. I have yet to find out how good that is. I have to email my friend to find out.
He’s totally cooled down by now so I feel comfortable giving him a quasy bath. It’s still a bit cool for a full bath, but I have to wash off the sweat, and dirt. He didn’t like that at all. It’s one thing to be rinsed off another to get washed down with cold soapy water. I feel guilty because the water is really cold, but he really needs it. He squirms around, and around. Finally I get the worst of the sweat, and dirt off, rinse him down, and squeegee him dry. He is really looking good. His back end is bulking up with good muscle definition. I still need to build up his shoulders, and chest. He is narrow built, so looking at him head on, he actually looks more like a young horse instead of a horse in his teens.
Now that we’ve done our ride I have to go get hay. I got a slow start because my mother called all upset because my father was back in the hospital, and she didn’t know what was going on. Luckily I hadn’t started my ride yet. I go down into town, pick up the hay unload, stack it, and then I get to feed. Needless to say not only do I hurt, but I am quite puttered. I’m afraid I won’t be able to do more than two days on the ride in July. My body just can’t handle it. As it is today I spent the day in bed even though it was a beautiful day. I really wanted to ride but my body just said no. No doubt about it getting old is the pits. At least I should be able to ride tomorrow. I’ll try to get an early start (good luck with that), but I’m making no promises to myself or anyone else. Oh well such is life, we simply have to enjoy the good things, and forget the not so good things.
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