Okay, this is one of my jams. I have no idea why, but I love it. And it just so happens that I recently had an encounter with a real raccoon (not even remotely what the song is about), but I had JUST listened to the song, so obviously Rocky Raccoon became this little heathen's name. The song happened to come on just as I opened up blogger to write this post (long awaited, eh?) so what better than to outline my brief experience with Rocky, while listening to such a song.
Anyhow, Rocky and I first met last week. It was just dusk at the farm, the reflection of the setting sun to my far west beaming ever so slightly off the barn in it's last attempt to light the Florida sky. Then Rocky appears. Typically I don't have a problem with critters running around the farm. They were here first, theoretically, however I'm pretty sure the families at the surrounding farms have lived there much longer than Rocky, the hateful jackass thief he is. So Rocky shows up, of all places, scampering--no, no. Scampering is a great describing word, but it really doesn't describe what Rocky was doing...Meandering. That's better. So I see Rocky meandering out of one of the stalls that I had quite literally just pulled a horse out of. He stopped when he saw me, and naturally I just assumed he would scurry away at the sight of me. Oh no. Not Rocky. Rocky planted his striped ass right down on the dirt floor and just stared at me. I would have offered him a cigarette as he sat there pondering life's great wonders, but I don't smoke. I wasn't sure how to proceed with Rocky. Was he tame to humans because he lives near them? Was he rabid and just waiting to make his move on me? Is Rocky really Rockette and does she have a brood of little ones behind the barn that she's just waiting to defend? I just didn't know what to think of Rocky. His coy look just miffed me. I went about my business and pretended like his black beady eyes never met mine. Half because I wasn't THAT worried about him, and half because if he was rabid I didn't want to make any sort of threatening gesture at him that would insinuate I wanted to tango with a raccoon. I did want him to move along, as I had stalls to clean, the one he meandered ever so slowly out of and parked in front of, being the next on my list. I clapped my hands, banged some things around, but damn it, Rocky just sat there, watching me go back and forth. What an asshole, if you're going to watch me work, you could at least offer to help. I see those grimy little paws, you can hold a pitch fork, buddy.
Eventually Rocky grew tired of watching a human move senselessly in his mind, from stall to stall, picking out all the smelly stuff and leaving behind fluffy dry bedding. I caught a passing glimpse of him waddling around the side of the barn, and I thought that was the end of Rocky. He'd carried on, gotten bored with my lack of fascinating things to offer, and was on his way out. Not. By the time I got to the back row of stalls in this barn, in the general direction where Rocky took off in, the sun had long since gone, and it was dark now. The florescent lights flickered ever so slightly, as a banging noise was heard overhead. My first thought was something fell out of the tree and onto the barn's metal roof. My second, and correct thought, was that damn Rocky Raccoon managed to climb his fat self up to the roof of the barn, where he could peacefully watch me working below. I could hear each step he took. To put it nicely, Rocky was well fed. He wasn't hanging out because he was hungry, or if he was hungry, it was because his mom never installed good eating habits into his repertoire, and had nothing to do with being able to access food. I carried on, no longer worried that he might give me a zombie disease, but instead rather annoyed that this raccoon found it entertaining to sit on the roof and watch me work.
Anyways, he hung out on the roof for the entire two hours I was working out there, and by the time I left, there was no sign of Rocky any longer. Until the next day, that is...I noticed the tightly sealed and well stored container of electrolytes that sits outside of Maxwell's stall (hanging up, off the ground, in a basket) was missing. I thought perhaps the last of the electrolytes were used with that morning's feeding, as I knew he was getting low but thought he had a few weeks left. When my barn owner came out, she mentioned that it looked like something ripped off the lid to the electrolytes and strew the container and it's contents in front of my horse's stall. I knew right away it was that heathen Rocky. Was it his plan all along to wait until I left to raid my electrolytes? The world may never know. The mere fact of it is, Rocky, if you're reading this, asking is SO much better than STEALING. I see why raccoon get a bad wrap for being associated with criminalistic dealings. Your black mask and jail-bird black stripes sure help you live up to the title of HEATHEN. Your grubby little paws, to be able to open such an intricate lid that was sealed so well, proves beyond a doubt that you would have been more than capable of pitching in and helping me clean stalls the night before. You lazy, stealing bastard! I hope you ate those electrolytes. And I hope the terrible feeling of thirst followed close by. You didn't eat some kid's wasted sugar candy. You ate apple flavored salt and potassium. Glad to know you won't dehydrate anytime soon, if you ever made it to the water after consuming such an amount of them.
For anyone wondering, I really don't wish harm on Rocky, ever. He was never aggressive towards me, even though I had my reservations in the beginning, as any person should when coming in contact with a wild animal, no matter how small (or fat.)...and Rocky is alive and well. And still causing trouble in the barn. Someone left a SEALED metal tin full of peppermints for their horse right next to their stall. Last night I saw hundreds of little coon prints, many empty wrappers, and maybe only a handful of peppermints still intact in the container which originally contained close to 100 pieces. The moral of the story is this: Leave nothing for this fat coon. He needs a diet and an insulin shot at this point.
Okay, so that was my week....there's really NO point to that story at all, but the song coming on just cracked me up, reminiscing about my ridiculous new friend and his insatiable hunger for sugary items.
Maxwell has been working his tail off over trot poles and poles placed throughout the arena. We've been simulating jumps with poles lately. Not because he's not capable of jumping anything more than those, but really just to help us get a momentum, build a pace, and stick to it without getting excited. Maxwell is never out of control in any situation, he's a pretty level headed dude. Heck, there is this black duck that resides at the farm this time of year. He's another jackass. He doesn't have a name. Because I hate him. This time last year, he was the cause of my pony mare spinning in a complete circle top speed with me on top of her (reining is NOT in my future, guys) and flung me promptly on the ground. It was that duck's flapping wings that caused the chaos. SAME duck yesterday. Max and I were working in the dressage ring (more about that below), and this duck shoots out of the water (from underwater, either of us knew he was there) and takes off full speed, trying to fly, but skipping over the water, likely because his stupid duck wings are full of water. Obviously Max wasn't expecting that to occur, and neither was I. I spooked, and he saw the duck, took four steps sideways, and looked at me like WHAT THE HELL is that STUPID duck's problem, mom?! That's the extend of my horse losing his cool, for the most part, unless you're asking for an argument with him. Such a simple man he is. Oh, the duck is a Cormorant, for those wondering, though the local fishermen call them some pretty colorful words other than what they truly are called, because these guys, in addition to terrifying horses and causing scenes, steal bait right off your hook while fishing, too. Jerks.
So yeah, we were working in the dressage arena. Really, what it is, is that at one point we had a boarder out there who rode dressage, and wanted to have a ring to work in. They measured it out, and built 4 wood corners and put steaks around to help outline the ring. I decided to ride Max within the confines (no real fencing) of the arena to both test how well he's responding to my direction via leg, and also to start having him work in a more condensed situation. He went wonderfully well. He might have a future in the sandbox when all is said and done. (maybe.)...
Max has been going very well overall for me lately. We've been back in the hackamore just because he seems to stretch down and over his back the most while working in this setup, so for now, we go without a bit. We'll be implementing some jumping back into our routine now, as we've really got to start nailing that down if we ever want to get anywhere with it. Being an ammy on your own is tough, sometimes. I need that yelling but helpful voice on the ground to help me maneuver myself and my horse through mistakes and sticky spots.
Anyhow, that's about all I have to offer right now. Hopefully I'll have some great rides to report on after this weekend, and maybe some photos? It's not often I have anyone else in the arena with me while I ride, but I'm going to have to start begging people to come once in a while, because I'm really curious how me and the muffin are looking together!
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