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Ugh, it’s another hot, humid day.
Big Black is especially fierce today. At least one of the buggers nibbled on my ankle earlier and poor Rusty acts as though he’s being tortured. Big Black is chasing him from one end of his paddock to the other.
I enter the ring with Gracie, whose flesh is in a state of constant motion. Big Black has it in for her too.
As I tighten Gracie’s girth I hear someone shout out, “Go into your shed Rusty! Big Black won’t go in there.”
Huh? Hello. It’s a fly. Of course Big Black will go in there.
As a last resort, or perhaps it’s just reverse psychology Rusty obeys.
I turn my attention back to Gracie. She’s standing there flicking her tail, twitching, and stomping. Poor thing. Hmm, maybe some fly spray? Wait. I think she’s got an issue with it. Or does she?
Moves in reverse
OK, we’ll just stay in motion and hope Big Black doesn’t catch up.
The ride was interesting to say the least. It felt as though I was riding a bucking bronco in the rodeo.
Twist to the right
Twist to the left
Duck head to nip at fly on belly
Burst forward in acknowledgement of my aids
Can’t stand it!
Ignore rider’s aids, nip at legs
In slow motion. Without the bucking.
We also had some wonderful moments while trying to outrun Big Black. Her hind legs were active — I wonder why? — and she was as light as a feather. I suspect that it had more to do with the flies than me.