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05/09/2002: "Food Speaks Louder Than… Anything"
Once again, we find that the way to a man’s (or gelding’s) heart is through his stomach. Right now, Ami is getting the hay we had to buy last year that has some alfalfa in it. Indy is getting a mix of the grass hay Ron and Brenda brought down and the last of our grass hay. Unfortunately, he managed to sneak a nibble or two of Ami’s hay, and he’s decided he likes hers better. She’s still confined to her stall and the smaller paddock, so he can’t reach her hay feeder, but he spends a lot of time trying to get any that she might drop and push close enough to the front that he can reach under her stall gate and snab it.
While I was out there this afternoon, Ami was rooting through her hay like always, tossing off the coarser parts to eat later while shaking the leaves off into the bunker. Indy was hanging over her gate, watching. She naturally assumed he was watching HER, so she came over and pressed her entire side against the gate. While she stood there expecting him to nibble her haunch, he had his muzzle as far under her gate as he could manage, nibbling up the hay she had pushed far enough aside that he could get his lips around it. She couldn’t believe it when she finally realized her was ignoring her completely.
Matt was here yesterday and was quite pleased with the condition of Ami’s feet. He felt she was ready to ditch the glue on shoes - well, she’d already done that anyway - and go back to being barefoot. He also agreed with me that her lameness in back was probably a strained pastern and not a sole bruise. And, while he suggested waiting a few days before turning them back out together, he didn’t think it would be long.
Indy and I had a wonderful bonding moment yesterday. He was dozing, and he put his muzzle in the hollow of my shoulder, just like DJ used to do. The horsy smell, the warm, sweet breath on my cheek, the trust that such an action implies - this is what horse ownership is REALLY all about to me. Thank you, dear Indy, for giving that back to me.
