I don't have any favorites, really I don't. But there may be a certain pony, after whom this blog may be named, whose seniority and personality afford her a degree of precedence and privilege.
This evening, the horses were milling about by the gate, looking at me. At times like these, I feel like I ought to put them all in car seats and take them out for ice cream or something. Chloe was looking at me in a particularly pointed manner. I went in amongst them holding Chloe's halter. This time she was determined she was going to have her halter on and get out of the field. Despite George and Bridget pressing in upon her, she stood her ground so I could put the halter on, and she made a dash for the gate as soon as it was opened.
I took the leadrope off and let her loose to amuse herself while I went in to make dinner in the kitchen, whence I could keep an eye on her through the windows. She mosied about, finding choice grasses, while George, Rose and Bridget hovered enviously on the other side of the fence before giving up and going off to graze in the middle of the field. I left Chloe until it was almost dark. When I went out to get her, she came right over to the gate when she saw me, so that I could let her back into the field.
After I'd let Chloe back into the field and had given everyone treats, I spent some time with George, who is becoming much more communicative (or else I'm a better listener). He positioned me in different places next to him, in accordance with some George algorithm which is rather a mystery to me. He groomed me a little. We walked together a bit.
I don't speak the same language as these horses, and yet they are so willing to compromise and accommodate - not only willing, but eager. I feel we are on much more of a solid foundation now than we were before. Allowing them to be comfortable allows me to comfortable with them. I don't push them; they don't push back at me - we're in a zone together, and we both recognize it, even if we don't always understand each other. I don't worry so much any more about "What Are We Going to Do Next?" I don't try to interpret everything or find significance in what's going on. It reminds me of being with my kids when they were little - you could poke them in the shoulder, chew on their ear, tickle them and say something silly, and then sing a bit of a song and have a snack - it was all about companionship and fun. A state of innocence.