Rest up, school starts soon
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Which One?
For my next set of poses I want to do another Breyer Pose set because those have been fun. Which model do you prefer here?
Cutting Horse Mold
OR
2. Scamper Mold
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"He was quite entertaining, when he unloaded from his trailer at our ranch, he acted like a King returning to his throne. He backed out, then stopped and stood for a few seconds, looking always to the right first and then to the left, as if to announce he was home to anyone watching. He then turned around, walked slowly into the barn and straight to his stall. You didn't even have to lead him." - Karen Freeman on Smart Little Lena
I always loved the Smart Little Lena babies and grandbabies that I knew. They were very calm, very smart, and very sound. While they are definitely not rare, and maybe it’s just where I live, but suddenly I don’t see as many of his descendants being offered for sale. Everyone's obsessed with the Gunner lines, even though Colonel’s Smoking Gun was very sickle hocked and lame all the time and lived a decade less than Smart Little Lena. But I guess breeding reiners is more lucrative than breeding cutters.
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A Horse Is A Horse Of Course
When Barb and I were first married she confessed that she had a life-long desire to own a horse. At first the cost of ownership was not hard to handle but the popularity of horses started to raise the cost significantly. One winter Barb decided to save some money by leaving our horse, Babe, out in the field instead of paying for an expensive stall for the winter. Babe was a big horse and used to being outside much of the time. She was still well cared for by the stable owners. In the spring Barb planned to rent a stall again and start riding when the weather improved. We paid Babe a few visits over the winter and brought her some treats on each trip.
In the spring Barb was anxious to start riding again. We drove to the stable and Barb walked out into the very large field that was Babe’s home for the winter. Babe came right over to Barb to get her treat and Barb grabbed Babe’s bridle and led her back to the barn to get her ready for a ride. It looked like Barb’s plan had been flawless.
A week later we were back at the stable again but this time Babe was not as cooperative as she was before. A carrot was not enough to persuade her. Barb went back to the barn and put some grain in a bucket. Barb made sure to shake the bucket as she walked out toward the reluctant horse. Well, it looked like we found Babe’s weak spot. She could not resist the bucket of grain and Barb got her saddled up and went for a nice, long ride.
The following week did not go as planned. Babe was not going to be fooled by a bucket of grain, a carrot, an apple, or any other treat Barb could offer. Barb suggested I give it a try but Babe probably remembered me as that bad amateur rider and she had my number already. Barb realized Babe was not ready to respond to anyone who had ever been on her back. Barb cleverly asked one of the younger girls at the stable to approach Babe and bring her back. That worked brilliantly - just one time.
On our next trip Babe was not going come near anything with less than 4 legs. We chased her around the field far longer than we should have. We only succeeded in spooking her even more. The next week we enlisted the help of everyone we could find. The plan was to chase Babe into a smaller field where we could corner her and grab her bridle. Then she would be back in a stall where there was no escape.
We enlisted the help of about 15 or 20 people at the barn and slowly cut off the field and forced Babe into the small field where we had the advantage. We formed a line with our arms outstretched and carefully closed our trap. We had the horse penned up in one corner of the field. She didn’t have enough room to run and jump over the fence. Her fate was sealed, or so I thought. Babe began to run, not in any random direction, but straight at me. I knew she would not run me over, she did not have that kind of temperament. As she got closer to me she was not slowing down, I knew if she tried to get past me I could grab her bridle and make her stop. As he got closer she dipped her shoulder like she was going to pass me on my right side. I leaned a bit to the right to cut off that escape. The next thing I knew I was grasping a hand full of air as Babe thundered by me on the left. I had been deked out by a horse that weighed more than a ton but had the moves of a pro football player.
Barb started researching Babe’s history. Babe was born in the Kootenay mountains in BC and had been part of a herd that lived on a large piece of land where they were free to roam most of the time. Babe was eventually caught and trained by a man who saw her potential. Babe was built like a Quarter Horse and had the speed and agility of that breed but she was much bigger than average. She was trained as a cutting horse to take advantage of her natural talents. Once I discovered that she had worked as a cutting horse I didn’t feel so bad about the move she put on me.
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iirc the original plan was that L and Light were supposed to be fencing, but this was changed to a tennis match.
I then wondered what other sports they could have played... and I may have gotten carried away.
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