Fly-mask Fiasco

"Why do you have a blindfold on your horse?"

I can't count the number of times I've been asked that by the curious non-horse public, who have never seen the see-through mesh of a flymask up close. Now that summer is here, so are the flies. And the flymasks.

Since appaloosas are prone to eye problems, partly because of the unique white sclera circling their eyes, I'd been watching Ransom for any sign of irritation. When his eyes started tearing from the dust and flies, I dug last year's fly mask out of my tack locker.

The gold mesh with leopard print edging was still in decent shape. However, Ransom wasted no time in fraying it and grinding it into the paddock dirt. I bought a new one, this time a conservative gray. The next day, a bare-faced Ransom stared innocently at me as I approached with his halter. The fly-mask, though intact, lay at his feet.

No matter how snugly I fastened the velcro, he still managed to pull it over his ears. Finding the flymask in Houdini's pasture became a daily game of hide-and-seek. Until, just a week later, the new flymask met its end, ripped to shreds. Ransom: 7 Fly-mask: 0.

June to June

This June, it's been one year since I bought Ransom.

Last June, he was making friends in the herd and learning to escape the wrath of its alpha members. I watched him buck around the roundpen. We took our first rides in the late afternoon after I got off work. With the voices of campers echoing all the way to the back arena, we worked on moving away from leg pressure, transitions, and picking up the right lead at the lope.

This June? Ransom's put on a few summer pounds. His adult incisor teeth have erupted almost all the way. We venture out on trail rides alone together. He's discovered that cows aren't as scary as he thought. Our arena exercises include starting spins, simple lead changes, and rounding his back. We took our first brief bridleless ride last week.

Here's to many more Junes together.

Tale of Woe

I learned to French braid on a horse’s tail. Ransom became my most recent victim when on a whim, I plaited his tail before riding him. The reddish-black hairs were like tiny wires against my fingers as I tried to separate them with one hand.

When I finished, I looked down to discover a mass of hair at my feet. How had this happened? Had it occurred to me to grab the detangler from my tack locker? No. Brush his tail before I started? No. Sparse manes and tails are characteristic of the Appaloosa breed; this was the sacrifice I made for spots. Ransom’s tail couldn’t afford to lose this much bulk!

If I’d been riding English, Ransom might have been able to pull off the look, but with a Western saddle, the braid was incongruous. Though the braid itself turned out well, it made his meager tail look even thinner. Ransom, too, was less than pleased with the diminished fly-swatting capability of his new adornment. That, or he was embarrassed to be seen by the other geldings. He swished his tail irritably as he trotted around on the lunge line, attempting to make the braid fall out simply from flapping it.

I relented, pulling the strands loose before I mounted. Next time, I decided, I’d save the braiding for shows.