Ruby's not done much because I've been busy, so she has probably had too much opportunity to graze spring grass. She's lost a lot of her winter coat and has come up nice and glossy despite a heavy coating of mud...
went out for a drive just after lunch and immediately met one of the
big timber-wagons that are coming past us for the felling of the wood in
Bretherdale. I now know that the Bennington is shorter overall than the
Quayside gigs because it went round on a sixpence in our "narrows"
between the stone walls of the garden and the field opposite. Ruby stood
in the yard while the monster went by, and we started the drive over
It all went OK, including having our photos taken at the
railway bridge, until we reached Selsmire where the event horses were
all out at grass in their heavy rugs. Ruby knows that the first 4 in the
field on the left are not really interested in her any more, though
they look up and stare; but once again, when we reached the next field
she spotted "that grey horse" and ground to a halt. She considered
trying the spin-and-run that she caught me with a couple of months ago,
but I talked her out of that and she just stood there, assessing. This
is most unlike her because she is normally such a bold mare! She has
even met this grey horse a couple of times, out on the road. So why the
sight of a grey in a rug is so scary, I can't really work out, unless
she can only see the legs and head and not the rug in between. Talking
to her, twitching the rein and outright smacking her with the whip all
produced only one or two steps forward so as I'd got her to the side of
the road enabling cars to get by (if necessary) I was prepared to sit it
out. Eventually after about 5 minutes a van came from the opposite
direction and at that point she appeared to come out of her "trance" and
walked on! I think I need to get her a supplement with magnesium in it,
to counteract the grass.
I took her another mile or so, then
turned and came back. She behaved fine coming past the horses this time
(the grey was further away and behind a couple of other horses). We met
the timber wagon, again but I had spotted him coming from over a mile
away as I came down the hill, and I found a gate open into a little
garth, where we stood out of his way and exchanged waves with the driver
before continuing on our merry way.
Ruby was hardly damp at all when we got in - combination of shedding winter woollies, and a quite cold wind.
Micky Wippitt was furiously jealous that I had done things with Ruby
without taking him into the game - biting the wire of his kennel run and
yelping - but I can't let him run free just at the moment because it's
lambing time and he is far too keen on chasing after leaping lambies! And
if I were to lead him and Ruby, his extending lead would get wound
round her legs AND his. Neither of them bother about this, but I'd need
more hands than I currently have, to untangle them.