Well, this week Nicole, being rather concubinal by nature, has been in heat. Yes, again. The last cycle wasn't so bad, but this one has been particularly heinous. She has been stiff the past week, and as such, our rides have accomplished nothing. I don't blame the mare for successfully heeding that uniquely female voice that whispers "be your own Venus"; she can't help it. But it's disappointing to have her doing so well, and then suddenly not do so well because of biology (that pesky nuisance). If God's favor of the fairer gender is evidenced by giving women the ability to reproduce and ensure humankind doesn't become extinct, I'm respectfully requesting that favor be rescinded.So, why do I always discuss the mare's heat cycles? What is it about the event that garners such devotion in "Of Horses and Humans," you may ask? I can come up with some malarkey about how it makes her back stiff, and it inhibits training for that week, but the truth of the matter is quite different. The parrying back and forth and comparison of reproductive cycles is the feminine bio-equivalent of men drinking beer and watching Sunday afternoon football over mono-syllabic food. Mare owners are no different from other women, except we get the added excitement of not just our own, but also our horses' menses to discuss.
Yesterday's ride resembled the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo on a Saturday night. Mother Nature decided to blast the 1812 Overture on the rooftop of the indoor, complete with cannon bursts and all. In short, the thunder and lightning storm...ahem...made its presence known. Between:
Our ride accomplished very little besides improving my ability to stay on a bucking bronc. I considered setting up the video camera, but since Nic historically has taken that as her cue to practice her best back cracking bucks, I decided to refrain. I had enough working against me already.
So, you ask, why didn't I stop, and pick it up again after the storm passed? Laziness, justified, of course, as "needing to learn how to deal with the mare when things are scary because one day, somewhere, we may need this skill." There's also that part of me that thinks "if I can get her working correctly under these extreme conditions, then I've really accomplished something." Or, as a coworker once pointed out, I'm a glutton for punishment. Really, though, it just comes down to the fact that I was too lazy to bring her in, untack her, cool her out (we experienced the humidity of a Costa Rican rainforest) and then retack her if and when the storm stopped its maestoso discourse.
On Saturday, Special K brought her kids to visit Nic. Nic enjoyed interacting with the kids.
