Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire

Every mile is two in winter. ~George Herbert

I have no room to complain about the weather, compared to others, but let me just whine for a little bit. I woke up to 4 degrees this morning with a -19 degree wind-chill. This makes barn chores really a chore. Okay, I feel a little bit better now.

On to Argo updates:

First # 1

Last week was a bunch of firsts; they are beginning to come in steady streams now. Argo now fully expects to be hand fed each meal. He no longer looks at me when I come in and appears to think he is merely entertaining me. When I bring his meals, out the come in the form of the red wheel barrow, I take his bucket of goodies into the field and leave the wheel barrow outside the field which holds his lovely hay. In the past he would stand by the fence, longingly looking at the precious, red vision of beauty, and stand there looking at it and then looking at me. I would have to whistle at him and shake his bucket of goodies to get him to begrudgingly follow me to his shed for his goodies. Once there though, he would quickly forget about the dreamy vision of the red wheel barrow. He would gladly stuff his muzzle into his feed pan that I so willingly hold up for him and eat his meal. Only after we had our moments would I give him his hay. Now though for the past several days, he has watched me put the barn horses out to pasture, and he whinnies at me, as if to say "Hello, don't forget me!" Once the red wheel barrow and I get to his field, he waits for me to come in, to make sure I have brought the goodies, and then he turns away from me and heads to his shed. This, my friends is a big, dang deal! Argo has turned his back on me. Argo never turns his back on anything. Except for Flash, and I didn't blame him there. Flash is a bit impetuous and is kind of like the person we all know that talks incessantly and we literally tune them out. I digress though… Argo knows that by turning his back on something, he leaves himself vulnerable, 17 years of living wild has ingrained that into him. So what does it mean that he has turned his back on me? I did really over think this one. When you spend your days alone for 10 hours cleaning stalls and performing barn chores and playing with horses, you have way too much time to think about things. Again, I digress. My opinion on it is Argo has learned the routine, he knows the hay won't come until we have some time together and that he is only delaying the inevitable and hey, the abominable snowman, wrapped in polar fleece, really is not that bad, she brings goodies. This is a big milestone for Argo and I in my opinion.

First # 2, or should I say try # 64

Argo lost his 15 ft lead rope several months ago, but the bull snap was still attached of course to his halter. At first it did not bother me that it was dangling there, now though it has become an annoyance to me. Each time I let Argo eat from his bucket that I hold up for him, I attempt to touch the snap. Believe me when I say this it's not easy. I am currently on try 64, yes I'm counting, and I'm weird that way. First I started just touching it with my index finger on my left hand, while holding the feed pan. He would feel the change and quickly step away, but just as quickly comes back in for the goodies. And again I would touch it, until he would just stand there and let me touch it. Then we progressed to me cupping the snap in my hand, again he would step back and then just as quickly come back to me. So as I said we are on try # 64 of removing the snap. Maybe by try 100 we will have it off.

First # 3 or more like a progression of my thumb

While Argo has been eating out of his feed pan that I so lovingly hold for him, are you seeing a pattern here? I had begun touching him with thumb under his cheek. This of course was met with, "OMG! What was that?" very quickly though it turned into a tolerance of my thumb. It has gently progressed to four fingers and my thumb scratching his jowl and under his chin, which he is really beginning to enjoy, as am I. I now have progressed to taking my index finger and stroking his forehead while he is busily eating the goodies. I also have been able to touch his halter underneath his head and both cheek pieces.

First # 4 Kara sings to Argo

This morning as I was so lovingly holding Argo's feed that is now in a smaller bucket, I was so bitterly cold and just wanted him to eat so I could be done, Argo decided the smaller bucket was not to his liking. For several minutes Argo did his little dance, like a small child saying "No Mommy, I want the blue one, not the red one! (Insert whine)" My cheeks were on fire from the cold, but I did not want to give up, so I began singing Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire. Where is the sanitarium truck when you need one? Argo was priceless. I am sure you have all seen dogs tilt their head when something strikes them odd, well this was exactly what Argo did. Just priceless! He must have taken pity on me or just wanted me to shut up because he quickly came in and dove into the smaller bucket with the goodies. I continued to sing Christmas carols to him while he ate. He finished breakfast in record time. I was somewhat offended.

May I have my breakfast, pretty please?

When the world says, "Give up," Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."~Author Unknown

A friend who has a ton of wisdom and advice when it comes to Mustangs and more specifically Kiger Mustangs has mentioned that I need to push the envelope with Argo. She gave me some great suggestions to get started on. Such as, if Argo wanted his stipend of grain he had to take it from his bucket in my lap.

Well, Argo was not impressed with me and my small camp chair in his shed for several days on end, for 15-20 minutes at a clip, so I have had to compromise. I figured he was not comfortable with the camp chair for one, and I did not want to leave it in the shed for him to figure out and possibly destroy. It's a good chair, and believe you me they are hard to come by around here. Secondly, I figured out through trial and error, that he would come closer if I did not look at him directly. Well today we had a breakthrough moment.

Picture this, I am sitting on the extremely hard and cold ground, cross legged, with thick, clunky, winter boots and Carhartt overalls, (can we say accident waiting to happen when the overstuffed idiot gets rolled over because she has crappy knees and is too cheap to buy another camp chair?) with his big rubber feed pan sitting in my lap, and casually looking at a knot in the wood in his shed. Argo does this little pace, begging for me to just leave, but please leave the feed pan with my little itsy, bitsy bit a grain please. I sit my ground literally and just softly talked to him, telling him what a big doufus he is for being so silly and not just taking the chance, in my "your such a good boy" sweet voice. And then it happened…. With me looking at the very symmetrical knothole in a board, I felt his muzzle push down on the feed pan and grab a bite, and then of course him jumping back, like I was going to spring on him at any moment. Again, he is a sweet, big boy, but we have a ways to go in the trust department. I continued to calmly sit there as my leg began to cramp up, pleading him with my sweet voice, quietly to come back and take some more. All I have to say is Thank God he is a boy! His stomach won out over his mind. He came back and continued to eat the rest of his little meal, and I practiced slowly turning my head to look at him face to well, forelock. He jumped back once, but quickly came back to finish. I continued to talk to him telling him how good he was and what a big, grown up boy he was, all in my sweet, baby talk kind of voice. Good Grief! If someone had seen me, I would have been admitted to the nut house! I did manage to keep the tears in check. I couldn't imagine the leg cramping up and the frozen cheeks as well.

I hope to be able to get him more comfortable with this in the coming weeks and then add in my dressage whip to start rubbing him on his shoulder while he is eating. Maybe, I will spring for a camp chair too!

Sorry no pictures this time. I will have to try and do this when Morgan or Zared (I can hear the whining about the cold already) are home so they can take a few pictures of the stuffed marshmallow and her Big Doufus.