Horse beach report
Dec. 27th, 2009 10:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stephbgWe were out of the house by 6AM this morning, headed for the horse beach. No messing about with the dog beach today; we were after bigger game.
I had several goals this morning. One goal was to admire Husband in his new Christmas swimming trunks. It's possibly the first time I've bought an item of clothing for another person on the basis that I thought they'd look sexy in it.
Objective: achieved. Phwoar!
Now, to the horses.
There were only a few battery horses out being solidly worked in the water so there wasn't a great deal to see. I think we gave it until about 7:30AM, but it looks like the horses were all sleeping off their Christmas lunch. We have yet to fine tune this early beach thing, but Husband is obscenely keen on the idea, so as long as he's prepared to set the alarm and do the driving it will become a regular thing we'll do together. Maybe not at six, and perhaps we can work a coffee into the equation somehow.
Some important progress was made in that a few horse people said good morning to us. I was probably hard to miss while grinning like a loon at their animals. As promised I did approach an older lady to ask permission to say hello to her horse, an anonymous brown named Buddy whom I suspect was an ex-pacer. The owner was very nice and we chatted briefly about why the beach was so empty.
My encounter with Buddy rated only 3/10 on the horse good time scale. This is better than zero, but much as I'd suspected, Buddy was distracted and swung his head around a bit. He let me tickle his chin and scritch in a few places, but his atttention was elsewhere and there was no time for either of us to settle. He was also soaking wet, which felt a bit odd, and he didn't smell like horse. That didn't occur to me until later, but the horse smell is a very important part of the contact. Would it be very wrong/desperate/creepy of me to collect some manure from the beach to take home? For the garden, of course.
My scritching work is not done until the ears sag, the eyes close and there's a deep sigh with optional slobber. Much the same rules apply to cats, dogs and humans. Jellyfish, not so much, except maybe the slobber part.
As we left, the two miniature ponies and the pretty skewbald pony we'd seen last time were just coming down the access path. As we stopped and gave them room the first handler thanked us nicely. I am much reassured by these signs of friendliness. It's a fairly safe bet that there are regulars every week, and recognition can only help the cause.
One day I'll make the trek out to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zebra363's place to take up her offer of some quiet time on her old horse's home ground and a chance to reaquaint myself with details of anatomy. But not on a 40 degree day with extreme fire danger like tomorrow!
And maybe if my CFS prevents me from becoming a reliable volunteer at the Riding for the Disabled (whatever it's called now) stables, perhaps I can get some ground time in as a stress patient and work my way up to being useful.
I had several goals this morning. One goal was to admire Husband in his new Christmas swimming trunks. It's possibly the first time I've bought an item of clothing for another person on the basis that I thought they'd look sexy in it.
Objective: achieved. Phwoar!
Now, to the horses.
There were only a few battery horses out being solidly worked in the water so there wasn't a great deal to see. I think we gave it until about 7:30AM, but it looks like the horses were all sleeping off their Christmas lunch. We have yet to fine tune this early beach thing, but Husband is obscenely keen on the idea, so as long as he's prepared to set the alarm and do the driving it will become a regular thing we'll do together. Maybe not at six, and perhaps we can work a coffee into the equation somehow.
Some important progress was made in that a few horse people said good morning to us. I was probably hard to miss while grinning like a loon at their animals. As promised I did approach an older lady to ask permission to say hello to her horse, an anonymous brown named Buddy whom I suspect was an ex-pacer. The owner was very nice and we chatted briefly about why the beach was so empty.
My encounter with Buddy rated only 3/10 on the horse good time scale. This is better than zero, but much as I'd suspected, Buddy was distracted and swung his head around a bit. He let me tickle his chin and scritch in a few places, but his atttention was elsewhere and there was no time for either of us to settle. He was also soaking wet, which felt a bit odd, and he didn't smell like horse. That didn't occur to me until later, but the horse smell is a very important part of the contact. Would it be very wrong/desperate/creepy of me to collect some manure from the beach to take home? For the garden, of course.
My scritching work is not done until the ears sag, the eyes close and there's a deep sigh with optional slobber. Much the same rules apply to cats, dogs and humans. Jellyfish, not so much, except maybe the slobber part.
As we left, the two miniature ponies and the pretty skewbald pony we'd seen last time were just coming down the access path. As we stopped and gave them room the first handler thanked us nicely. I am much reassured by these signs of friendliness. It's a fairly safe bet that there are regulars every week, and recognition can only help the cause.
One day I'll make the trek out to
zebra363's place to take up her offer of some quiet time on her old horse's home ground and a chance to reaquaint myself with details of anatomy. But not on a 40 degree day with extreme fire danger like tomorrow!And maybe if my CFS prevents me from becoming a reliable volunteer at the Riding for the Disabled (whatever it's called now) stables, perhaps I can get some ground time in as a stress patient and work my way up to being useful.
