The original occupants of the little old Co-Op barn are 3 Standardbred geldings. For those of you unfamiliar with Standardbred racing, they come in two flavors: pacers and trotters. Waco, the oldest gelding, is the only pacer and raced a full career (14 years). The other two, Hippie and G.I, were both trotters.
This is G.I. He's considered the racing fail, if you will. He was started racing, and I guess didn't do all that well, and it eventually became very obvious that he didn't enjoy the track life or his job. He's a funky horse; he's around 9 years old, and you can tell he so desperately wants a job, but he's not too thrilled about any of the choices he's been given. One of my barn mates, Eryn, is in love with him and wants to break him to do competetive driving and timed trials. I think he'd be a WONDERFUL driving horse; he's broke to ride, and I've seen him ridden, but he's one of those horses that has a little too much will and too much go to be a steady pleasure mount, and he's not cut out to be a dressage horse and DEFINITELY not a jumper. G.I's hobbies include eating, begging for food, pretending he's a half-Arab Fresian, and rolling in the filthiest areas possible. 
This is Waco, whose full racing name is "Waco Hanover". He's the oldest of the bunch, a whopping 32 years old (no, seriously, he is). He was one of the best pacers in his day, and raced a full career of 14 years with plenty of wins under his belt. This horse, though old, still has go. There's a half mile racetrack that surrounds the pastures and runs past the Co-Op barn, and when he gets out there, he gets ready to go. I'd be willing to bet if you hooked this horse up to a racing sulky, he'd go. Up until last year he wasn't cared for too well, and was pretty miserable. At one point he was even considered dangerous, but it was really because of a lack of condition; he was thin, ratty looking, and didn't get any attention. Now he's loved on by the girls at the barn, myself included, is well fed, and is one the nicest old men I've had the pleasure of meeting.
Waco out at pasture
This is Hippie. He's a bit of a sad story; none of us ever saw Hippie in his hayday as a trotter, but Donnie says he was the most fantastic trotter he'd ever seen. Hippie's career as a racer got cut short when he sustained a serious injury to his RF lower leg; I don't remember all the details of it, but he basically shattered the bones in his hoof and was permanently retired from racing and any kind of work. He's about 13 years old, but even with his age and injury, when you turn this horse out to pasture, his trot is amazing. This horse GOES, and I mean really moves. I would have loved to see him in his prime, and it's too bad that he got the short end of the stick like that. He can be a little mistrusting, but he loves Donnie (as they all do) and if you groom him, he's a friend for life. He's fondly referred to as
"Lips" by those of us who call the barn home for the twitching he does with his top lip when he sees someone in the barn.
ITTCHHYYYYYYYY!
These horses belong to the owner of the barn, but we all call them ours. There are very few of us who call this place ours, namely myself, Donnie, our friend Eryn and a former boarder Missy. We've put so much time and energy and emotion into this barn. We've sat in the aisle, talking late into the night. We've had countless gatherings for pizza and gossip, spent hours bitching and laughing and goofing off in the tack room. We've become an amazing support group for one another; it's nothing you'd ever expect to have in college, but it's probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. The number one rule of the barn?
We're all serious about that. I hate barn drama more than anything, but if I've learned one thing, it's that all barns have it, and we all have to put up with it. But we're a tight-knit group; we look out for one another and we all agreed that whatever is said sticks with us. It's just better and easier that way. It's a motto a lot more people should consider following, methinks.
OK, enough emotional ranting. :) I hope everyone enjoyed their weekend: mine was spent working, and when I wasn't working, I was waging war with overgrown paddocks. I weedwacked, and when I couldn't get through the big stuff, AKA the burdocks and huge thistle plants, I went at it with a pair of hedge trimmers. Worked out nicely, except for the 15 minutes Donnie and I spent trying to dislodge a bundle of burdocks from my hair (all I have to say is, OUCH....) The paddocks look lovely, ready for occupation. I can't wait to get Ernie and Stella back where they are happiest! 4 days and counting!
datz poe kneez
ReplyDeletegit it rite!!