For those of you too young to remember Elmer Fudd, that translates as Very Scary. Which is what Flash thought of his solo hack around Montpelier this morning. Had I known of all the nonsense that was going on, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to venture out, as it was only 26 degrees. But you know what they say about hindsight.
So, to start with, Flash had to go out solo. He is good, but prefers company (unlike me, who seriously just wants to be left alone). So he was a tiny bit reluctant to leave the yard, but went anyway, ’cause he’s usually a pretty good guy. Then we got up to the corner where the guys are repairing one of the old barns. Uh oh! Required stopping, staring, crying for help. But there were visible humans there doing visible stupid human stuff, so he wrote them off and walked on.
But then we get to the fork in the road, and to our left is another human doing stupid human stuff! This one is in a cherry picker hacking limbs off trees! As if the noise wasn’t bad enough, things started falling out of the sky. No crying this time, but a lot of jigging went on. Once past that evil, we were able to walk to the top of the infield and turn for home. Of course, that’s when we saw the horses across the field which we obviously needed to catch. More jigging.
We get almost to the road when I see it: more cherry pickers and wood chippers. No way around those, so I tell Flash we have to turn around and try a side exit. But! But! But! Nooo! The other horses went that way! The chipper fired up and Flash agreed I might have a plan. We hopped across the field and guess what? The gate was shut. But my marvelous horse, who is much braver than he knows, stood pretty still and let me open it without having to get off (good thing, we were over a mile from home. Long walk). After that he felt pretty brave. We were, as he could now see, definitely headed for the barn. We marched home past the first tree guys (been there, done that) and the barn guys (got the T shirt already) without so much as a glance.
Think he was pulling my leg? Hope not, as I still cling precariously to the belief that I am smarter than my horse.