Catching Up: Hay, Horses, & Historical Hijinks

Phew. That backcountry trail guide post has been sitting in a tab for two months as I slowly worked on it. It feels great to have it published!

Let's catch up on things, shall we?

JUNE MILES - I kicked June off with a lovely double-digit mileage ride in the Seneca Creek backcountry. We bopped up Swallow Rock and did a lollipop loop on top of the ridge between Allegheny Mtn Trial, Leading Ridge, and North Prong before heading back down the mountain. It was a fantastic day for all involved. I love that I can head out and do a ride like that without seeing a soul!

PUTTING UP HAY - The next weekend became all about hay when my hay guy called to say my bales would be ready. In recent years, I've made a couple trips throughout the year for bales because he would store them in his much bigger barn. This year, however, his situation has changed and I needed to get all of my bales over a couple of days. WHEW. It was a touch helter skelter making so many trips and working around spotty thunderstorms, but I'm happy to say all of my hay supply is put up and ready for the year ahead.

Admittedly, the thumbs up was at the start of my final trip home before I got that epic flat tire.

STANLEY ON STRIKE - Right around the time I was fetching new bales, Stan did one of his I'm-Sick-of-Hay-and-Will-Only-Eat-Grass boycotts. He doesn't have these boycotts every year, but when he does they usually come earlier in the spring when the grass begins to grow again but isn't fully "in". Stan promptly dropped weight as a result of his choice, which was disappointing after he came out of winter looking the best he has in years. 

Due to the property I lease having minimal pasture, hay is Stan's only choice. He's fortunately tucked into the new hay like a good boy and regained weight, but he hasn't put the weight back on that I'd prefer to see. He doesn't look bad, but he also isn't at a body condition I'm comfortable with for regular riding at his age. He's 25. And I'm not worried, to be honest. I know his health and teeth and diet are all in fabulous condition. But it has led me to make the decision to partially retire him as a riding horse. I'm not saying that he'll never be ridden again, but he's out of the rotation for now. Don't worry, he's not mad about it one little bit. 

Other than super close-up nose selfies, this is basically the only photo of Stan recently. Being a free agent annoyance on a 2 mile ride with a friend. (He loves to cut us off, take the lead, and try to encourage the ridden horses to follow him on his own adventure vs the human-led adventure.)

Q BACK IN ACTION - Q was on "vacation" from late September last year through the winter as a result of a tweak to soft tissue in her left front. I trotted her out and even rode her once or twice as winter transitioned to spring and she was fine, but then she had a bit of a setback around late March. It was not the same lameness as before and brought to question if she'd just had a bad fall in the field rough-housing. Lyme disease was also not ruled out. With my busy April of travel ahead, I opted to just give her some more time off and then pursue more diagnostics in May if things weren't resolved. 

Fortunately, by May, Q was sound again! And has remained so ever since despite my incessant worries otherwise. I've handled her with kid gloves bringing her back into work. I still may pursue a Lyme test on her just to be positive (deer ticks are plentiful here and she's been bitten countless times that I have observed). Regardless, I'm grateful she's feeling better and we are able to enjoy miles again.

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE - Q was my focus through the beginning of July for all riding. I hadn't reglued Grif's shoes yet, so pursuing miles with him was on hold (he's much happier in shoes than boots or bare on our trails). Other than bringing Q back into work though, I had quite the ulterior motive for getting routine time under saddle with her - we were to participate in a historical reenactment!

On the weekend of July 18, Q and I donned period clothing and delivered the Declaration of Independence as a part of a reenactment weekend. Our role was simple, wait until the appointed time, cross the street, enter the square, deliver the Declaration, and depart. 

Q has always handled odd situations like this with nonchalance, so she was my obvious choice. (Griffin would have noped right out of it, and Stan probably would have grown a hand in height and stood snorting with uncertainty, feet rooted to the ground.) Like the queen she is, Q marched across the street, entered the square with cautious curiosity, walked over to the gentleman who would be reading the Declaration, and halted while I handed it to him. As I passed off the scroll, the drum and fife band struck up another tune following a pause while we had entered the square and made our delivery. Q, who was already alertly observing the drums, stiffened as the noise began. She watched and listened intently for another couple seconds before politely, but determinedly, pivoting and making a stiff-legged walking exit. She was cued up in case those drums and fifes came after her, but was a lady about her exit and held it together.