I’m so exhausted I’m nauseous, and I’m so sore that when I walk it looks a little vulgar.
I had such a blast!
Who wouldn’t be exhilarated after spending a weekend surrounded by personable, well-trained, well-bred, unbelievably gorgeous horses?
I’d love to go into detail about what a perfect weekend this was, but it’s 9pm at night right now, and I am exhausted.
So without further ado, meet some of Bunnygal’s herd:
First off, here’s Rocky the Stallion (aka Rocky the Ninja horse ):
Rocky is sweet.
Rocky is handsome.
Rocky makes me drool a little.
At any rate, Bunnygal is a very conscientious breeder, so even though Rocky’s seven (eight? I forget), he only has one foal on the ground.
Two years ago Bunnygal bred her mare, Miss Pal to Rocky.
She looks an awful lot like a palomino, doesn’t she? Well, she’s not. Bunnygal had told me that she suspected Miss Pal of being a dunalino, despite her coloring being listed as palomino on the registration. I kind of shrugged when she said that. I mean… does it really matter?
Well, when you breed a palomino to a sorrel stallion and end up with a stunningly beautiful red roan colt named Willie, apparently it does. Since it’s impossible to end up with a red roan colt from a palomino/sorrel cross, Bunnygal had to go through a whole bunch of extra paperwork in order to change Miss Pal’s paperwork to her true coloring: dunalino roan.
What do you get when you cross a dunalino roan with a bay roan?
You get a MaryJane:
MaryJane just turned a year, so she’s entering into the gawky yearling/2 year old phase. I don’t know about you, but I think MaryJane looks gooooooood. She’s one of the sweetest fillies I’ve ever met. She’s not pushy or aggressive, but she LOVES being loved on.
Plus— buckskin roan. It’s kind of an eye-catching coloration, don’t you think?
She has the neatest mane, too.
Hey, color enthusiasts out there: I know if that mane belonged on a regular bay horse it would be called a silver bay. Is it normal to have a mane like that on a buckskin roan? Or is she technically another color? I get so confused with stuff like that.
Speaking of pretty manes, meet Josie:
Josie is solid. Josie is honest, and good. She’s like milk, or whole wheat bread. She’s a stubborn horse if you want to actually ride, but as far as just hanging out or trail riding, I’ve never met her equal. She’d probably plod along pleasantly even if rabid wolves were snapping at her ankles. She’s completely unflappable.
The only time I’ve EVER seen Josie with anything less than a completely sweet, open, friendly expression (like the one above) is with me.
Josie hates me.
No, seriously. She does. I think she was a llama in her past life. We’ve tried to get along, but for some reason, this mare and I just don’t click.
This is a real shame, on a number of levels.
Number one: She’s a good size for me, unlike some of Bunnygal’s other horses. All the horses are stout enough to carry me, but Josie has a little more leg on her. She’s actually the perfect size for me.
Number two: Nobody has spoken for her. Oh, don’t get me wrong. She is loved and cared for and ridden regularly. Everyone who rides her loves her, but nobody in Bunnygal’s immediate world really LOVES her. I have a bad habit of falling in love with other people’s favorites out of Bunnygal’s herd. If I could just make it work between Josie and I, I could have a horse that I consider “mine” without stepping on anyone’s toes.
Number three: And this is the big one.
Look at this trot:
That, my friends, is what a non-gaited gaited horse looks like. No, Josie isn’t really a gaited horse. But you know what? You can’t really tell the difference as far as smooth riding goes. Something about Josie’s conformation makes her the Cadillac of horses. Bunnygal’s husband jokes about her being the perfect trail horse because you can trot along with a full can of beer and not worry about spilling a drop.
He’s not exaggerating, either. That trot is smooooooooth.
So, that’s Josie: a gorgeous, bombproof, sweet, obedient, incredibly smooth-riding horse.
And she hates me.
No, okay, she doesn’t REALLY hate me…. but she also doesn’t really like me. I’ve probably ridden her around ten times, and each time I crawl off both of us are a little peeved. I don’t know what it is, but something about the two us just doesn’t click. Nobody else seems to have this problem. Just me. I don’t know why, but I do know it’s kind of a real shame.
And then, there’s Cotton:
Hey, I owe you guys a story about me and Cotton, don’t I?
Some other day. It’s already getting late.
Anyways, Cotton really is too short for me. I mean, I REALLY should pick on “someone my own size”.
It seems kind of mean that I feel so comfortable on short, stubby little Cotton.
But Cotton has a broad back:
And Cotton has a really wide chest:
And Cotton’s powerhouse rear end is equally solid:
Every time I stand near Cotton, Sir Mix-a-lot’s signature song goes through my mind.
So while Cotton may be too short for me, I don’t really worry about it all that much. She’s more than solid.
She also has cute little feathers:
When you combine that with her gorgeous forelock, she looks like she just walked off the movie set as an extra for “Spirit: Stallion of the Cimmaron”.
She’s a total spaz under saddle, but she’s also incredibly fun. And sweet.
And look, she poses for pictures!
She’s also in-foal to Rocky and due sometime in May of next year. I’m more than a little excited to see what pops out.
Anyways, there’s some of the herd. There are a few more, but I’m sunburnt and exhausted, and I need to go waddle in a spread-eagle, obscene way to the bedroom to go to sleep.