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The 2000 Wisdom and Haflinger Humor of Jenny Rausch of Brush Prairie, Washington
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February 2000:Pushy Haflingers and proper training

Speaking of pushy haflingers and proper training......Heh. Today, I decided that this life of ease and luxury needed to stop- enough time out to pasture and eating with no real work- it was time to get up and start our new gelding , three year old Avallon ( Jeep to us ) . After all, the horses need some work too. Ahh, thought I, he needs to be groomed, we'll start there. Heh. Well, we did. I really have to say that he is a jewel, I love his attitude, but like all young horses, he need proper training to establish respect for his people. Well, He is going to see the vet with his brother tomorrow, and was so deeply mudded, I thought that I would hose his legs, and do his tail. Kind of dissolve the hairy mud balls on his belly fuzz. He was not too happy about this, and here, right here, started what most people new to horses tend to miss when dealing with their haffies. You see, he didn't do a thing that was obviously aggressive, just little side steps that varied in size and strength. But; he had it DOWN that if he moved over to me slowly, and sort of rotated at the end of his tie, I unconsciously moved out of range so he wouldn't step on the hose. He probably assumed that I was respectfully getting out of his way. Worked for him... for the first couple of times. Then, as I was sort of "moving with him" doing the Baby-Haffie Shuffle, it occurred to me that I was systematically teaching him that I get out of his space when he invades mine. Hah. He was very subtle about this, folks, this is what haffies excel at! Seen it with all 4 of ours, and several of the ones that are owned by others.
We all know that trying to swat at a previously "trained" haffie that has learned how to do this is a sure way to get them to lean on you, and I like
to have my thumbs intact so I have a good excuse for my typical clumsiness-so I located a short, rather thick, blunt stick and stuck it in my pocket. Heh. Remember, I am working here, and have my hands rather busy. The next little hip-swing, I casually got the stick out, and pushed it toward his ribs just enough that I knew he could feel it. Then; HE LEANED. I mean leaned on me with one hind foot off of the ground, and the other three pushing hard. I am no weenie light weight, so I stood there, quietly waiting. After about 3 and a half minutes of grunting and pushing against me, he ( gasp!) backed off of me about 2 inches. I immediately took the pressure off and Voila! He immediately leaned on me again. Smart horse. :) We went through this about 7 times. My husband was standing there watching,
(This is what I married him for- it is in the fine print right next to "justifying real need of wife by leaving nose hair trimmings on rim of sink" in the marriage contract) making helpful remarks to us in our silent struggle, like " Is da meeeean lady bullying you, poor widdle hoesie?" and "If that was ME, I wouldn't be BAD to you, only MOM is a BAAAAD person, daddy FEEEEEEEDS his widdle Baby-Wuv vums!" You have no idea how hard it is, holding a stick against the side of a 13-ton
teenage horse-with-attitude while retching violently. We did get it completely resolved by the time #8 rolled aroung, and interestingly enough, all of the impatient generally puu-ey fidgeting and mouthy-ness quit too. He now had it pretty well understood that he stays in his own personal hemisphere, and only dad can get away with making inflammatory remarks to mom with impunity. The scary white towel that ate his hiney was a snap to deal with (you just eat them first) and he learned that he can only reach the bottom tie on the fleece cooler, no matter how hard he tries. Oh, and that he will need to learn to speak Chinese for those times when he is standing tied, and pawing to amuse himself...... Jenny Rausch in Vancouver Wa, where the hubby is witty, the woman is tired and smells like a dirty horse, and the horses are cleaner than the exceptionally wonderful children.

February 2000: Happy Trails

I just returned from a ripping good trail ride. WOW! I went to check out the access road that I got permission to ride on, and found out that the owners
were also willing to let me ride all over the miles of trail that they have cut out in their 30 acres or so. This is very, very good!! Then, in the middle of exploring the trail that runs through the bottom of the crick in this area, I got onto a trail that is a part of the adjoining housing development, a trail that loops for about 7 miles in the green area that the developer had to leave when he put in those 150 extra homes. Broke my heart. :)=) I rode for nearly three hours and still haven't seen half of
the trails I have access to!! I also get to use a very long gravel driveway for driving if I want to as well as the access road and catted out trails they put in last summer. I feel like I died and went to heaven. I have water hazards, hills, areas to run full out, and just plain have FUN on that I didn't even know existed. DD isn't QUITE as thrilled about all of this as I am, but she will be. She really likes to go, but right now is going through a herd bound period. I now have a place that I can ride to where I can tie her up and read a book till she realizes that we don't go anywhere till she quits focusing on her herdmates. This was about the most productive ride on her that I have ever had- I kept turning her away from where she wanted to go, and was able to keep her good and busy looking at new stuff where she had to pay attention or land on her head on some very challenging trail, which as far as I know is the best way to deal with this kind of immaturity. When we finally started for home, she was totally waiting for ME to tell her where we were going and at what speed. Nice! DD thinks that I am the meanest owner in the world, why did she have to go in that nasty wet stream and hold STILL while I moved debris and logs out of the way? The only part that I could have done without is where I looked down and saw a pretty good sized print that looked suspiciously like cougar pugs in the mud by the stream bottom. Saw raccoon prints too- cute! There are freshwater mussels in the stream there. This is a real animal highway for the local wildlife- a long stretch of timber undisturbed by roads or houses Neat!
Hoping that everyone else gets to ride where they can really enjoy it and get huge stickers in their hands and soaking wet riding boots too!
 

June 2000: On a personal note

I took my younger mare, D.D., out for a spin tonight. Really nice way to end a day, though I could have done without all of the stupid rabbits that kept exploding from nearby clumps of brush and grass. D.D. had to pound on my chest several different times to restart my heart. Very embarrassing. I got my own back when that little spike buck startled her, though. Heh, heh. The good news is, she is very soft and willing to come out of a hard gallop and back into a soft trot. The other good news is that I remembered to ask her to slow down out of a hard gallop. Yup. The brakes work...... I also enjoyed letting her out in a canter a few times, where the road let me-DD loves to canter, (Gee, I remember when it felt fast to trot!) and I find it is easier to teach her to bend and soften from behind in the cart than when I ride her. Go figure. I think it really helps to be able to concentrate on what I am SEEING instead of primarily what I am feeling, and you don't have a lot beyond your hands to concentrate on, as far as your own body goes, when you are driving.
I have decided I will drive my haffies 'till I can no longer con some good looking young fella' into wedging me up onto the seat of my carriage. My own good looking fella' is way too smart for me to con much, though he is really great about getting the horses in from the pasture for his pathetic wife......For a man who doesn't drive, he has been pretty helpful, I must say. Let's hear it for wonderful, supportive mates married to inveterate horse crazies! When I think of it like that, I can almost forget my annoyance with people who don't drive but tell you how you ought to.....
Rather a rough day here. Had to put a very old and special friend down. A cat that we have had since Frank and I got married. The usual cancer/nasty suffering etc. Poor old thing, it was time. I stood there holding our cat with tears running down my cheeks (I hate crying, let alone publicly) as the vet injected him. Then I got a horrible case of the giggles because the vet tactfully suggested that I not use the main door out of the waiting room past the other clients as they waited for THEIR turn with the vet.  I felt awful, but it really seems funny in a gallows sort of way, to me. In a last ditch effort to help our very kind, not-very-quick-on-the-uptake vet
understand my real mood, I picked up the cage containing the young tom cat we were picking up at the same time from being neutered, and said "I bet this little guy behaves a lot better now that he knows what happened to the OTHER guy that messed up!". The vet didn't laugh....He patted my shoulder and looked at my husband with real concern, while Frank stood there and shook his head in a commiserative fashion.... Help me out here. Am I sick, or is it a problem that everybody else has? I think I will go and brush someone who REALLY understands me. What have I got to lose- D.D. and Mac already know that I am totally weird, but being haffies, they love me anyway. They have to, I feed them..........

June 2000:Making sun when the hay shines

Yeah, it's interesting what people around here do for hay. Suffer, mostly. We don't raise our own, but we buy/haul out of the field, which is nearly the
same. Still totally dependant on the weather,equipment, etc. This year, Frank and I again decided that we had to have a whole years worth and a bit, as we cannot count on pasture for real feed. Wanna see haffies that still have ribs?? Kinda nice not to have too much real pasture... Still, that means that we had to have about 24 tons of hay. Last year, I got in the first 12 or 13 T with myself loading, stacking, driving, and trying to motivate a 16yr old boy that we had rented. It wasn't much harder than teaching a sloth bear to run- a couple of times, I actually detected movement! It was wonderfully helpful, but then Frank came home, andwe co-op'ped  labour with a sister/bro-in-law for the remaining 7 tons. Awful. I think I went from 9am to 1:30 am without stopping except for dinner which I was too tired to eat.
This year, my family did hay alone- Frank, myself, our 9yr old son Daniel, and daughter Kate (age 7) and my German Shepherd. We ended up with some
really really great hay - I haven't seen weather as good as this for hay since I was an 8 yr old trying to help stack hay at home for our old welsh pony cross mare.
It took us 4 days in this 90 degree weather to do it all. Well, 3 days, if you don't count that one day that we had to rebuild the whole corner of the old dairy barn where we keep our hay reserve stored. SOMEBODY-for the sake of common courtesy and marital peace we shall keep names out of it and refer to this person simply as "Frank"- just turned a teeeeeeny bit too soon and PULLED OUT THE ROOF SUPPORTS AND WALL ON ONE SIDE OF THE WHOLE BARN WITH OUR TRUCK as they were leaving the alley way. We couldn't put any more hay in until it was fixed. I guess that took most of one day; all of it really if you count the two hours of sympathetic screams of wifely laughter and loud wailing before we could bring ourselves to get the repair started. Then there was 7 ton load
that we were just finishing off, ready to tie and take to the barns that FELL OFF in the hay field when I turned a corner, because of not having been stacked in a good tying-in formation....I cannot tell who was in charge of stacking, so I will just say it wasn't me. I was trucking and throwing at this point..... After that I was stacking, loading, and rubbing ashes on my head.....You always CRISS CROSS the Bales, city boy! (City curmudgeon, actually.) I didn't not actually dare say this, at this point, mind you.. I am a lot slower when running than my dear husband is. So, three intense days of get up, get dirty pants and old shirt on, find holey shoes, put them on the wrong feet, feed kids stale bread and coffee with promises of real food sometime later.......(Does Gatorade count as real food?) Then, step outside, wince at the blast of hot air hitting your face, think about hitting your spouse for letting you buy your first horse, but you can't because your arms hurt way too badly to reach him ( WHY did you marry such a tall man??) Then kindly tell kids for the 12th time whose turn it is to sit in the front seat on the way to the hay field. Sit for 7 minutes trying to convince yourself to turn the key in the ignition. Man, it's hard when you know whats coming.... We got it all in, it is definitely great hay. Looks a lot better in my barn than it did when it was on the truck still. There is a lot to be said for getting your own hay in, it is an experience that I cherish. Three months
after I can stand fully erect again, usually. Our kids were begging us to get to help- Isn't it amazing what deprived children will consider fun? Dan did a mans work on the ground, rolling 65# bales for us when needed, helping to unload when someone needed a third hand, running ahead of the truck to clear loose hay etc, while his sister learned to drive a 2 - 4 Browning flatbed ( Two manual transmissions to shift) that should have been put out to pasture 25 years ago. She didn't hit any bales at all, unlike certain other people in our family who in the interest of respecting anonymity we shall just refer to as "Frank"... I wouldn't miss it. This is what life is about. Anyone ever read the book written by Peter Hathaway Capstick called "Death in the long grass"? Just curious.

November 2000: Curses!  Thrilled Again!

I had a chance today to go out for a pleasure drive again. This time, my non- horsey, why-do-you-do-this-wasting-your-time-with-these-smelly-beasts oriented
brother in law happened to have just come for a visit with us for a couple of days. heh heh heh. An unsuspecting, not to mention deserving victim....... I hauled DD out of maternity leave and hooked her up while my dear husband Frank ever so casually edged his brother closer to the door. I gave the thumbs up, and the next thing my poor Bro knows, he is parked next to me on the seat of a carriage negotiating heavy traffic. heh heh. Other than a single, strangled inquiry as to how fast would we be going, he was pretty cool and collected as he sat with his hand draped over the seat back trying to make it look as if that hand just happened to have fallen there, and that it was a strange twist of fate that this hand happened to be gripping the bar uprights with enough force to have whitened all 462 of his digital joints. * It is worth noting for those people shopping for carts that it is easier to replace metal parts with finger prints permanently embedded in them than it is to replace the wooden counterparts. I was pretty proud of my mare again, she has been hooked or saddled very little in the last several months, and yet she didn't miss a trick, once again staying soft and obedient in a variety of scary situations. People were raking leaves, dogs tried to chase us, traffic as always, plastic trash can
rolling down steep road behind us unexpectedly, ( that one had me levitating about 4 feet straight up off of the seat till I realized what it was, which was fortunate as it left me able to reach David and pull him back into his seat while I was up there) you name it. That mare never flinched at maintaining a steady, even trot pulling about her own weight up, down, and across some really steep hills.( Oh I love those brakes- takes away the guilt factor when you can just pull that slack out of the traces down a heavy hill with a load like ours) She was having a ball, you could tell. The Bro is a BIG man, he would make the rock of Gibraltar look little
standing next to it, though he is very fit. This was quite a good load for DD at this point, being out of shape, but she never wavered, stopping for a breather only when I asked her to. What tickled me so, above and beyond that willing attitude of DD's was the huge smile on Brother in law's face by the time we came back, and his joyful yells and laughter as we maintained what felt ( to the passengers!) like an effortless canter back the last home stretch weaving around obstacles both
imagined and real. He had to have Frank take several pictures of he and I in the carriage, had to pet and scratch DD, thought I was barbaric not giving DD the whole bag of horse treats that the shameless hussy was begging for with those doe eyes of hers. Then, his eyes nearly popped out of his head when I left her completely untied or held, telling her to stand while putting away harness and such. (Fortunately he didn't see that baby step she took towards him, hoping he was
going to feed her something yummy. My horses respond to the "Hairy Eyeball" almost as fast as my kids do. They never imitate it, either, come to think of it. Hmmmm. Course, horses don't laugh at my jokes, so I guess they stand about even that way.) My brother in law is now totally convinced that Haflingers are the bestest, smartest, perfectest horse that you can buy, and DD in particular is the sweetest, most reliable horse to ever eat grass. He couldn't believe it when I said that the majority of the Haflingers I know of that get a little work are like her in temperament. He thinks that he may take up driving a carriage instead of driving his motorcycle..... I was of course totally encouraging, as a good sister in law should be;
I told him ''Go for it, David! Great idea!... Go get your own."
So much for family feeling.