Steppin’ out
Went on a toot with the other Misfits, instead of flat out galloping up hills, we made the effort to do some trot work up them, which builds up hind end strength as well as cardiovascular fitness. We're also making the effort to stay in 2 point position to build up our own strength for riding cross country. Mico and I both have a ways to go yet before we reach optimal condition, heh heh.
It was the first time for Keane to be left totally alone, as we'd taken the other three horses out for conditioning. We put him in the large stall and closed the door, waiting a few moments to see how he'd take it before we took off. He called a few times, but didn't seem to be overly distressed when we got back an hour or so later. I really had expected him to be lathered up and frantic, but when I let him out of the stall, he came out unhurriedly and seemed mostly relieved more than anything else.
Feeling confident in my little colt's temperament and intelligence, I put his halter on and led him up to the gate. Clover was tied to it, so I decided to wait until Katrina was done untacking before taking Keane out. Christine suggested that I take him through the barn to get out, which seemed like a good idea until he started balking at the large step-over to get into the barn. He had gotten used to the smaller step-over into the stall, but this one was a bit much for him. The three of us tried coaxing, guiding, pushing, shoving, tugging and outwaiting him over the step and into the barn to no avail. Christine said why nottry leading him over the step into the stall a couple of times to get the idea back into his head that maybe he could get over that bigger step.
Well, I led him into and out of the stall once, and then the rest of my evening at the barn was taken up with coaxing my sweet little colt-boy back into the stall again. Maybe he thought we were going to ditch him in the stall again and take off. Finally, with a little patience and a lot of standing my ground, he gave one final toss of his alarmingly llama-like neck and stepped in. I led him out with lots of praise and pats and let him go. Christine and I played with him a bit, then left him and Clover to their evening hay.
Christine says that Keane has the same routine every morning: eat grain, trot out and eat a little hay, then make a little nest in it and takes a morning nap (or kip, as Dad calls it). Even as Katrina and I were chatting about it, we watched him make a little nest and take a nice roll in his evening hay. Heee.
It was the first time for Keane to be left totally alone, as we'd taken the other three horses out for conditioning. We put him in the large stall and closed the door, waiting a few moments to see how he'd take it before we took off. He called a few times, but didn't seem to be overly distressed when we got back an hour or so later. I really had expected him to be lathered up and frantic, but when I let him out of the stall, he came out unhurriedly and seemed mostly relieved more than anything else.
Feeling confident in my little colt's temperament and intelligence, I put his halter on and led him up to the gate. Clover was tied to it, so I decided to wait until Katrina was done untacking before taking Keane out. Christine suggested that I take him through the barn to get out, which seemed like a good idea until he started balking at the large step-over to get into the barn. He had gotten used to the smaller step-over into the stall, but this one was a bit much for him. The three of us tried coaxing, guiding, pushing, shoving, tugging and outwaiting him over the step and into the barn to no avail. Christine said why nottry leading him over the step into the stall a couple of times to get the idea back into his head that maybe he could get over that bigger step.
Well, I led him into and out of the stall once, and then the rest of my evening at the barn was taken up with coaxing my sweet little colt-boy back into the stall again. Maybe he thought we were going to ditch him in the stall again and take off. Finally, with a little patience and a lot of standing my ground, he gave one final toss of his alarmingly llama-like neck and stepped in. I led him out with lots of praise and pats and let him go. Christine and I played with him a bit, then left him and Clover to their evening hay.
Christine says that Keane has the same routine every morning: eat grain, trot out and eat a little hay, then make a little nest in it and takes a morning nap (or kip, as Dad calls it). Even as Katrina and I were chatting about it, we watched him make a little nest and take a nice roll in his evening hay. Heee.
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