Change of Plan

SOME PONY decided last night to throw an offroad bucking fit through a stand of apple trees.

I'm not naming names, but it might have been certain bay roan mustang who lost his brain and subsequently made poor life choices.

I was staying inside, right? Last night I brought Tris into the ring and, as always, dropped my stirrups and tightened my girth in the middle of the ring, and on the way over to the mounting block he made so many sad, pathetic, longing looks outside that I said ok, fine, we'll walk on the roads for a bit and then do our trot work in the outdoor ring. He was so very happy and springy!

Then when we were walking on the road back to the barn to work in the outdoor, a big commercial rig pulled up alongside us, and I asked Tris to step a little bit off the road to let him pass. The driver stopped and asked directions to my barn, which was barely a quarter mile over the hill, and Tris got antsy next to the big truck. I finished giving directions, and the horse on the rig let loose a double barrel kick and Tris LOST. IT.

I was never in danger of falling off, but oh man I was pissed. When I got four feet on the ground again I let loose a decent crack with my dressage whip to send him straight and forward back home. In the meantime we were up-and-down-and-spinning through several apple trees just off the road, and I was wearing short sleeves. My arms were white with scratches and I had leaves in my helmet and stuck in the saddle.

We walked back to the indoor and I asked for a 5 minute trot, by the end of which he was huffing and puffing like he'd come off XC. We walked out for a looooooong time and when he'd recovered we trotted again just for 2 minutes or so, and while he was walking out and recovering from that we went to investigate the rig, walked all around it, sniffed it, and generally discussed being a nicely mannered pony with an ounce of brain matter.

Oh, pony.