Makeover Stage 1

Walking through the stables and pens of Sagebrush, back again to see if there is a decent show prospect with relatively minor issues to work through. The joy of being able to rehabilitate Storm into a fine working ranch horse was immeasurable but I’m unsure if I would be able to do it all over again. So of course the first horse to catch my eye was both deaf and completely feral. I stood at the fence for a long while debating if I had the time or resources available to actually make a difference in this horse’s life and give all the care and time he needs. This is just the first walkthrough, getting to write down the numbers of horses that interest you and hope to be able to get the one you want. I jotted down the pretty deaf boy’s number and walked along. There were many beautiful loshenka in the makeover this year, as there always were, though the variety was unmatched. 

I passed stall after stall and pen after pen, taking down numbers and trying to learn all I could about the horses that were available this year, some caught my eye and some didn’t. I couldn’t deal with the rehab needed for another severely underweight horse, the vet bills of some of them would bankrupt my small working/breeding operation. Until I came upon a pretty mare who had drawn a bit of a crowd, but upon seeing her fling her head and attempt to bite almost anyone who offered their hand, most people asked away. She must have been one of the rarer colors of loshenka as I had personally never seen a Lapin in person, at least not that I was aware of. I approached the pen to attempt to read the card explaining where the horse had come from and why. I was greeted with a black nose shoved into my personal space, though I never saw any teeth. The little mare had apparently been a “first horse” bought as a yearling for a teenager to train into the “perfect” show horse. A snort escaped me and I eyed the horse again. There was no way she was older than 4, no wonder she had behavioral issues. Some pictures available upon inquiry showed that this horse was treated more like a dog than a horse, allowed to be all over people and never shown any kind of discipline. I wrote her number at the top of my list and continued on my way down the line. 

“6445 goes to Shiloh at SunniSide Stables,” the announcement rang out. That was the number for the young mare with the bad handling and behavior issues, she had made the top of my list and apparently was the one to go home with me. I left the main stage to go and get the trailer ready and into the pickup line, ticket claiming the horse in hand. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too bad to load into the trailer. 

The purple spotted horse was in fact, not difficult to get into the trailer if you ignored the fact that she was so close she almost stepped on my foot more than once. As we were walking she went from nipping at my hair to trying to put her head over my shoulder and rest it there, while walking! I made sure to tie her pretty tight in the trailer and close the divider behind her so she wouldn’t be able to have the space to do something stupid and hurt herself. 

Getting the mare out of the trailer was harder, she wouldn’t back out and she almost went out sideways before I could get her turned around to walk out. She then jumped to get out and luckily I had backed the trailer into the mouth of the round pen so she was still contained. This horse almost face planted after spooking herself with that jump and stepping on the lead rope attached to her halter in her hurry to run off. I let out a heavy sigh as I closed the trailer doors. When I turned back around I was greeted again with a black nose and a snort of hot air in my face. Grabbing the lead rope I led her, unwillingly, around the open gate of the round pen so I could push it closed, the gate squeaked and she started again, sitting back and huffing, I let go of the lead as she tracked backwards with wide eyes. This may take longer than I had originally anticipated.

I left her in the round pen, halter on and lead attached while I parked the trailer. When I got back to the mare she was munching casually on the grass that stuck through the edges of the pen with the lead rope hanging over her back. Confused on how she did that I just shook my head and entered the round pen. As soon as she noticed a person had joined her, the mare (I’ll really need to think of something to call her, as I’m not calling her Sparkle Dust) trotted up to me and started sniffing all around my clothes, though I redirected her when she got close to my face. Her blue eyes looked into mine for a second before she pushed her forehead into my sternum, I knew I probably had better start with boundaries but I scratched under her chin and let her soak in some comfort. When she had enough she backed up a few steps, turned her head and walked into the middle of the sandy space to roll. I was confused about the seeming unpredictability, but chalked it up to the fact she was used to being treated as a pet. 

This horse had been a show prospect someone bought as a yearling, so surely she must have gotten baths. I wanted to get the smell of the pens off of her so she could settle into her new space. I took her to the stocks and she absolutely refused to go in, either backing up or walking forward so I took her to the outdoor concrete pad. It had a small area for bathing items and a spigot attached to the side of the barn. I tied her to the mounted hooks and started the water slowly where she could see it. There was no big reaction, so I brought the spray of water closer to her feet with the nozzle on a light shower setting. Again she had no big reaction, I worked my way up her legs while keeping a close eye on her. Other than a few trembles when I got to her hip she stood rather well for the initial soaking, the soap was easy since it was an attachment for the nozzle. The first issue I came to for bath time was cleaning up her face, she tried to bite the water, like my dog does, but we got it done by going slow and trying to distract her from nipping the water by offering a small treat. Bribery worked very well. She was also not a fan of having her tail washed, which is why I assume it was shaved short near the underside of the dock. Just another thing to add to the list.

After she dried off, getting to graze in the lush grass near the wash pad while I held on to her lead she seemed quite chill, not even twitching an ear as one of my dogs came up to me. They must have been let out of the house by my partner. He would be around soon to see what new project I had brought home to him. He seemed stunned at how nice this mare was, since last time the mare had been so afraid of me it took the full length of makeover for him to be able to catch Storm out of the stall she was kept in without her shutting down. He suggested calling this one Spark after I told him about her previous barn name, Spark did flinch at the loud laugh he let out but went back to her grazing quickly. Once she was dry we put her in the mid size quarantine stall and went back to the house. I already had a vet appointment scheduled for the next day for whatever horse I brought home, so I called them and gave them the new details I had.