Last Saturday, we took the boys in for their shots. Star was first--he was unhappy that he was tricked into coming. Loading up the two youngsters made him think we were off for a ride, but he was good nevertheless. Ziggy was next; for all his agreeableness, he is somewhat a passive-aggressive kind of personality. He does not want to stand still; he does not want to go into funny smelling concrete areas with a nice man who has needles in his hand. He did fine, but he wasn't really happy. Jupiter was raised by a vet. It was no big deal to him. He snuffled the doctor and said, "Hey, you have treats!" He stood perfectly and after all his shots and his strangles goop, he got his treat. He was happy. When I asked the doc if we could weigh him, he eyeballed Jupe from various angles and said he thought probably 1050 lbs. Jupes has got his big horse body--nice shoulders and chest, but kind of a round and dimpled butt (we need to ride off some of that fat!).
Next we wanted to take them out to for short ride to get their blood moving and work those shots through their system, rather than just stand still on drive home for an hour. Lynn did that once and Brady could barely walk when she got him home. So with some good advice from another rider there at the vet's office, off to the beach we went.
Picture a long beach with wet, hard packed sand next to the water where gentle waves wash up. Envision beautiful horses stretching out their necks and galloping smoothly where the last vestiges of the water curls up, leaving the little foam trails, and then recedes back into the azure ocean. The manes of the horses are blowing up, giving them a wild, free look. Tails are streaming long behind them. The women riding these perfect creatures have smiles that indicate just how wonderful this day is. They too look beautiful--they ride like they are part of the horse. Together, horse and rider make the perfect symmetry as time seems to stand still.
Now change the channel. The wind is howling. Sand is blowing up into everyone's face--horse and rider are squinting against the wind, scrunching into themselves to try to stay warm. One horse paws at the sand dune--positive it there for him to roll on. Up and down the deep dunes the grass lays flat from the harsh wind. Across 10 more dunes the ocean waves are visible. Taking a fork in path and thinking maybe there's a hollow where the wind will be blocked, the riders end up on top of deadend dune. "Turn back!" drifts across the wind. "Jupes, see over there? That's the ocean," one yells, "Okay, we've seen it--I don't care if we get any closer." The three riders turn around and head back, shivering in their windbreakers, but there's no trail. The horse tracks have been obliterated. Giving the horse his head, he knows when enough's enough--the riders make it back to the trailer, spitting salt and sand as they go. "Dang! It took longer to tack up than we spent on the ride!"
Thus ends another failed attempt to ride on the beach! Maybe that's just not our style (although the potential for dirt, grit, and horse slobber is always there).
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