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.