Posts Tagged ‘getting kicked’
Unintended Kick
I got kicked by Mia the other day. Sort of. It was rather cute, really, since no damage was done, and I don’t believe either of us was at fault.
Cleaning up manure while the horses milled about before we brought out their buckets of grains, I was moving through the short alley between the two sides of the overhang. I had my back toward Mia as I walked, and I didn’t notice her decision to follow in my direction. I suspect one of the other horses caused Mia to suddenly pick up her pace, and she sped up to make it through the alleyway and stay out of their reach.
It is almost unbelievable how quietly such a large animal can move. As I was in mid-step, my heel was up, and the bottom of my boot was exposed behind me. I felt the contact of something on the bottom of my foot before I knew what was happening.
In a blink, Mia’s large body was brushing past my shoulder and into the clear ahead of us. That bump against my boot didn’t make sense. A fraction of a second later, I knew exactly what it was.
Most special for me, as I was carrying on with my manure cleanup, Mia approached in a way that very much felt like she was attempting to offer an apology for the strike.
I think I should do some work on my awareness of an entire 360° around me at all times when in proximity of the horses. Obviously, relying on my ears is not sufficient.
I’m lucky I didn’t suffer a bad outcome this time. It’s best I don’t expect luck to save me when it comes to the next surprising horse movement that is bound to occur while I am standing near.
.
.
Harsh Winds
It didn’t rain last night and we got away with leaving the horses outside. That makes clean up much simpler. However, we didn’t expect the degree of wild weather we are getting in place of rain this morning.
Overnight we got snow, and then in the wee hours of the morning, the wind hit with a vengeance. It is a gusting wind, around 40 mph according to reports, making the house audibly stress at every joint. I discovered a stack of wood in the woodshed had toppled over, and in my dismay, I didn’t even consider the more significant fact that the shed itself is still standing.
Apparently the anchors work. It helped to have the hands-on assistance of my friend Mike Wilkus, who happens to be an architect, to rebuild the shed after winds toppled my first version. I had tightly packed this first stack of new wood in hopes of keeping the pile up until the next one over was finished, but the wood shrinks as it dries, and I’m sure the shed was flexing in these gusts, so it isn’t a big surprise things tumbled.
As we turned the corner toward the paddock from our walk through the woods with Delilah, we could see the horses were calm and collected in the relative protection from the worst gusts of wind. I am so happy for the wise placement of our barn. While the house sits on the high point of our land, where it suffers the brunt of the worst weather that arrives from the west and north, the barn is located below enough that it is generally spared.
The horses perked up when we arrived and got a bit rambunctious to warm themselves up before we served their morning feed. While we were cleaning up manure prior to putting the feed pans down, the horses did a few rounds of running, kicking, and flailing about.
Cyndie warned me that she was uncomfortable about my proximity to Legacy’s hind end, in case he decided to kick. It wasn’t him I was concerned about. The others are a lot less predictable. In fact, as Hunter approached in a frenzy, Legacy adjusted his position to protect me from the antics. What I didn’t expect was for Dezirea to decide to bustle through the narrow space between Legacy and me from the other side, because we were by the fence.
She did it anyway and landed a glancing brush of her hoof on my side as she passed through. I’m hoping she kicked the shingles out of me.
Cyndie got her “told you so” moment, and I got my lesson without suffering seriously.
I endured a lot worse abuse when I walked Delilah down to the mailbox and had to face the wind over the first rise on the way back. I think I would rather have been kicked, than beat by these frigid gale force gusts.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Relative Something 