Killer Fly Spray (Then)

I had had Chester at the boarding stable for a few weeks. As a weanling in a new home, he was a bit sad and introverted. No whinnying or carrying on, but still sad in the eye and overly complient for a four month old. Just resigned to the fact that his equine mommy was gone and this human stand-in was a very distant second.
During this time, I was able to introduce Chester to the clippers ("Who cares?"), shorten and thin his mane ("Ho Hum."), and train him to tie ("Yawn..."). He was a sad little man and wouldn't care if aliens landed and turned his hay into pink fiberglass insulation. I was worried. I knew that newly weaned babies could sometimes become depressed, but this was so unlike the happly little baby with whom I had worked at the Breeding Farm. I had given him a couple of weeks to settle in before exposing him to any ground work, but holding off any longer wouldn't be good for him or me...especially me. Chester was growing fast and I needed to teach him the basics before he became big enough to really hurt me.
While wondering what I could do to make my little horse happy, I kept up with the ground work. One afternoon, I had him in the cross-ties. He was sad. I groomed him, picked his feet, and gave him love. Finally, I got out the fly spray to give him some relief from the late summer bugs. As soon as the mist hit his coat, Chester's knees crumpled and he sagged to the ground. I quickly unclipped the crossties and tossed the fly spray to the side. Chester immediately stood, shook like a wet Golden Retriever, and trotted out into the barn yard to the lush, green grass. He lowered his head and began munching slowly, contentedly even. I went to him, clipped a lead line to his halter, and let him graze.
After this incident, Chester's mood improved greatly. He trotted around with 'his' mares, whinnied in greeting to the 'feed lady', and rolled with vigor in any and all available mud puddles. It seems that my little spotted colt found something more horrifying than being in a new place away from his mama...fly spray. So long as the Killer Mist stopped, life was good again.

My First Post

I've decided to create another blog dedicated solely to my life with my horse, Chester. Our time together has had its fair share of...how shall I say?...interesting elements. Blood, sweat, and tears describes that time nicely, I suppose.

A little background...
I purchased Chester at a week and a half old. Note to Self: Do NOT go to a baby horse farm with a checkbook...bad idea. Anyway, I went to a Paint breeding farm about an hour south of Madison, where my husband and I were living at the time. I was actually going there to look at Chester's half brother, Ticado. While Ticado was cute, he was going to be too short for me. I took one look at Chester and knew he was mine. I put a down payment on him that day.

Over the next several months, I halter trained the baby Chester. He was easy in some ways, tough in others, and seemed to suffer from Transient Equine Training Amnesia (or TETA)..."You TAUGHT me this?! Well...I'm sorry, but I just don't recall that." Since that time, I have also re-named this syndrome Stubborn Paint Horse Syndrome (SPHS). More on that to come...in fact, you will notice a theme...

I brought him to the boarding stable when he was weaned and our adventures continued...this blog will go back to chronicle those adventures, as well as keep you all updated on the fun we have together as our training and show career progresses.