To Blanket or Not to Blanket?

I gave my friends and co-workers a hard time when they complained about the fifty degree cold. I wasn’t sure it even would get cold in the mild climate where I live, until I started scraping ice off my windshield this week. That counted as cold, even by my standards.

I’m a country girl who thinks a ranch horse will be just fine roughing it in the winter with his furry coat, so I was undecided about blanketing. The back and forth in my head went something like this:

Pros:
Ransom can put his energy into keeping weight instead of keeping warm
He’ll be more comfortable and stay dry
He’ll stay cleaner

Cons:
Inconvenience of blanketing and unblanketing when the weather changes
May stunt growth of his winter coat

Cleaning muddy blanket is a chore

With just one horse to care for, I convinced myself that a little pampering was okay. If I could make Ransom’s life a little nicer, why not?

My planning hadn’t included looking at the weather prediction for the week. If I blanketed Ransom and it wasn’t cold or rainy soon, he might sweat uncomfortably. If I didn’t blanket him, and it rained, he might get cold. Then a thought occurred to me. Why don’t you ask the Holy Spirit whether or not to blanket him? The answer was an easy yes, which sent worry and indecision out the door. Thanks for that, Lord.

It rained that night and the temperatures dropped. I was glad I listened.

Merry Christmas!

Under the Weather

 

I like to think I’m an optimist, until I get sick. Turns out “tis the season” is for Christmas and for colds. Something about red noses, I suppose. Anyhow, sneezing and stuffy sinuses have a dampening effect on my ability to be positive. After sneezing through the morning at work, I dragged myself out to the barn for Ransom’s farrier appointment. As soon as I approached the gate, I noticed Ransom wasn’t feeling one hundred percent either. He rested a hind leg that was abnormally swollen. Great, I sighed.

With no sign of external injury, an abscess seemed a possible culprit, but that would have to wait and see. Fortunately Ransom didn’t seem to be in too much discomfort. He could put weight on it and walk okay. Apart from the swelling, he just shifted his weight from leg to leg more often.

I was thankful that he stood for the farrier, puffy leg and all. I raided my pocket full of tissue, dabbing my nose while holding Ransom for his trim. Neither of us felt up to much after that. I sniffled into Ransom’s neck and he cocked his foot again while the rain drizzled off the roof. A fine pair we made.

Horse vs. Horsepower

The barn where Ransom lives affords plenty of exposure to unusual sights and sounds, thanks to the construction operation the owner’s son operates on the property. Tractors rumbling, trucks coming and going, and odd looking stationary equipment are an equine desensitizing playground. Today Ransom bravely tolerated the group of people gathered to watch a car demolition. As we rode around the arena, Ransom eyed the crowd and giant crane with curiosity and uncertainty. I tried to distract him with stops and turns and other cues, but it was a losing battle. When the preliminary bangs of a crowbar rang out, I decided it was time to distance ourselves from the scene.

We wandered out into the parking lot, where my mom and sister sat patiently waiting in the car. This car was intact and caused no loud noises, so Ransom wasted no time in sticking his nose through the window to greet Melody. She was less enthusiastic. I patted Ransom’s neck, because though he may have only one horsepower, he has something even better: self-control.

Silent Night

When I got to the barn, it was deserted. The sun goes down so early in this season that even I had to overcome the temptation to stay in my bright, warm house. The barn lights buzzed and cackled as I flipped the switch and woke them from an early bedtime. I dug my mud boots out of the deep recess of my tack locker and slipped my feet into them for the first time in a long while.

Ransom seemed eager to leave the dark monotony of his pen for the barn below, striding next to me with ears pricked toward the lighted arena. I planned to lunge him, but after I finished grooming, I put my arms around his neck and the plan changed. He was warm and quiet. I stroked his soft, spotted fur and watched his eyelids droop. His lower lip sagged and he cocked a hind hoof.

The minutes passed. And passed. I didn’t want to break the moment. Finally I stepped back and untied his lead rope. The puffs of Ransom’s breath in the cold air as we walked back evoked a bittersweet memory of another time and place – of a herd of frosted horses snorting steam into a night much colder than this. I let my mind go there briefly, but didn’t linger. Instead, I looked out at the stars and the silhouette of the ridge in the crisp, clear night and thought, “I’m glad I came.”