Horses

The Joys of Selling a Horse.

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*None of my current horses are for sale. This was written some time back and just decided to add it here.

 Selling a horse.

 Well, we have all done it. We sometimes have to sell one of our hooves friends. We hem and haw about it, finally deciding one person doesn’t need 6 horses. Also, admitting you are too damn old to take care of 6 horses. 

   You take the pretty pictures. Write up an ad you think describes the horse in its entirety. You are always wrong. Because no matter what nice things you say about your steadfast lovely horse you have given lessons on and let your 6 yr old grandkid ride, that horse is going to make a liar out of you. It will show impressive backing skills when asked to move forward if you are trying to show the trot. It will try to go anywhere other than where you want it to go. It will not stand still if asked to stand in one spot, whether you are trying to mount, or just trying to come to a stop and be quiet. But if you want to move, it will stand like it has roots. 

   I listed two lovely mares. They were previously horses I had pulled from pasture and could just take cold to trail rides without a single issue. 

  Until now. I had someone come look at one of them. Then suddenly this 18 yr old mare Athena acted like she was as green as spring grass. She didn’t buck or rear. But that is all the positive things I can say for her that day. She is also so fat that her saddle wanted to roll. So I am trying to show anything good about this mare, and she is trying to go in any direction other than the one I am pointing her in. She is ignoring every cue I try to give her. She will not collect herself for the trot so looks as if I have never ridden before as I am trying to keep the English saddle between me and her. It is trying to roll. 

   So the person leaves thinking I am crazy, can’t ride, and know nothing about the horse I am trying to sell, or just plain lying. 

  After the prospective buyer leaves, the mare suddenly remembers everything. She rides like a dream. Until the next prospective buyer shows up the next morning to look at the 2 mares. Athena has told Jewel how to do this right. They both act like they don’t know a thing. Again I am alone, they both ride like lovely ladies again. 

  Horses are assholes. 

$CoMmEnt[

Buying Used Saddles…

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 I love saddles. Well, correction, I love vintage saddles. I like just looking at them. I own quite a few. (I could be on the next episode of hoarders. I will be one of those who will part with almost nothing.) 

 Some people like to use buzz words. But they do so hoping to actually get more money than they have any right to for the saddle they are selling. I have found some terms they use that have different meanings than you might expect. 

  I have compiled a list.

 Vintage = old, possibly a real vintage saddle, but usually just worn out and dirty.

 Antique = see above term, with rodent chew marks, a broken tree, moth eaten fleece and no stirrups, possibly no fenders. Also a price tag that makes your butt cheeks clench. 

 Unique = I actually really like looking at these. It can be hilarious. I was permanently scarred one time though. Found a saddle that the horn was a phallus. 

 Hand tooled = my cat likes to use it as a scratching post. Or again, no idea who made it, but it has tooling. 

 Trophy saddle. Marked with someone else’s information, (possibly stolen)they have a well made saddle that actually fits their horse and don’t want this piece of junk with writing all over it. 

*( I personally hate trophy saddles. When asked what I want mine stamped with, I beg for nothing. If they insisted on something or already had it marked, I donated every one to the 4-H. Sorry kids)*

 Barn find = I think it was a saddle, it is made of leather maybe? Dead cow possibly, maybe some other dried, desiccated, mummified mammal that was locked in the barn and forgotten. 

 Old, real Cowboy saddle = won’t fit a modern horse, or a modern well fed American ass. Seat is a 13” (no kidding, I have one) needs some reassembly. Well made, plain, but awesome all the same. 

 Very comfortable = feels good for 10 minute rides, then causes saddle galls on you, the horse, and anyone who trailered in with you. 

 Custom made = this can either mean, 

a) no makers mark, I have no idea when or who made this saddle.

b) made for a deformed obese horse with no shoulder, or my grandpas cow, and will never fit another horse again.

 c) hideously ugly.

 d) stirrups are not adjustable.

 e) trying to sit this saddle will torture your lady bits (female) or make you sing soprano (male), or actually cause spontaneous castration. 

 f) my cousin made this in summer camp when he was 9. 

 g) all of the above, so now it is in the 6 digit range. 

Some of my actually saddles, but not all of them…

Hay suits

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I have decided I am going to become an inventor. No, really. 54 years old, I am changing my life’s direction and vocation. Here’s why, hay. Yup. I cannot stand hay in my bra and underwear one more day.

My horses may not like me as much. I am sure that one of the reasons they love me, besides all food comes from me, is associated with my lovely alfalfa aroma. After all, i don’t really have 36DD breasts, half that is hay from feeding this morning!

I am going into making hay suits. They will be a lot like hazmat suits. But, they have to have a sealable pocket for my phone. Well hey, I have to carry my phone out to feed. If I don’t I will lose out on my Samsung fitness app counting those steps! That’s about all I use my phone for now. The pocket has to seal airtight to keep out the hay though.

Timothy hay is bad, mostly because it gives me hives, then there is that pesky shortness of breath. My horses do not really care for it anyway. The hay suit would come in handy if I did get stuck with Timothy. But I really need it for the alfalfa. I am not even allergic to alfalfa, but that stuff gets every where. I can go out to feed in a long sleeved, high necked shirt, tight jeans, laced up boots, feed just 4 horses, and have hay in places my dr never sees!

After feeding the horses their hay, a 20 minute job at most, it takes me several hours to feel as though I am not wearing clothes made out of wool, nettles and barbed wire. That is after I have changed clothes and covered the bathroom floor with 2-3 flakes worth of hay chaff. Now I know why they call it chaff. I also know where the idea for barbed wire came from and why animals stay away from it.

Nothing like going on a cruise and getting frisky with the hubby and he wants to know why there is parsley in/on your lady parts. Trying to explain it is alfalfa when you haven’t been around a horse for 3 days and have showered several times, went snorkeling and swimming in one of the pools just doesn’t cut it. So you end up making up some weird crap about an article in cosmo about parsley and female hygiene. Who knows? It could be a thing, right? I have read weirder things there! I once saw an article in a cosmo that I thought was going to be cool. Going to be relevant to me and my life. Pony play is NOT what I thought. I was traumatized. Really.

So my hay suit will cover you from head to foot. So I can actually wash my hair before feeding. If you don’t understand why that is relevant you have never gotten alfalfa in damp/wet hair. It doesn’t come out. No I don’t add parsley to my hair either. Go stand in line at any feed store, all the women have green leaves in their hair unless they pay someone to feed for them or dependable green headed children.   So no more hay in my hair, got my sealable pocket for my phone. A hay knife on one of the Curley springy cord things. Respirator so I do not inhale dust and that chaff. Little rear view mirror so I can see that one horse that sneaks up behind me, you have one too, we all do. Non slip boots for when I step in fresh poo or mare pee). Why is mare pee slipperier and smells worse? Does it smell worse so maybe you won’t step in it and fall on your butt, or does it smell worse so when you fall in it everyone knows why you fell and what you fell in?) The suit will be easily rinsed off, no hair, hay or mare pee will stick to it.

So if you are driving by a pasture, see an astronaut out flinging hay to a bunch of fat entitled horses, stop and say hi.

Starting to snark about horse people

/ horsewomansnarker / 6 Comments

Well here I am. Having been told I was wasting myself making snarky and verbose facebook posts.  That I should instead start a blog, where all my sarcasm could be found more easily and appreciated by more than the handful of people who actually have friended me (and admit it).  I am now trying this thing called blogging. I am not sure anyone really wants to hear about my inane ramblings and my almost daily encounters with crazy humans who believe they are either a) the next great horse trainer, b) going to make mega $$$ money raising horses, or c) the new horse owner or person out to buy a their first horse. New buyers that have the IQ of a turnip, not one of those organic ones either, but one of those grown in the old landfills, sprayed with outlawed pesticides and hauled in garbage trucks to market. Those are the people who find their way to me. I am a crazy magnet. Being as I am not quite sane myself, I guess it is my due in life to have to tolerate these people. Also as my chosen course in life is to take in rescue horses and find them homes, I am dealing with the craziest of the crazy, horse owners or wanna-be’s.

Now I will be posting about my encounters with these people, or the way I myself can screw things up, or possibly my friends. Today I am going to relate how when you put a horse up for sale or adoption, how a simple horse ad can turn a human mind into a form of oatmeal that isn’t quite warm anymore.

The ad is a simple one, really. I decided to try posting on craigslist, which I know to start with is where all the crazy people hang out waiting to read new posts and pounce on unsuspecting posters with as many idiotic and irrelevant questions as can be thought of and actually related, (and possibly spelled, or not) by the people I will, from this point out call Craze-listers.

The ad:      Trail Gelding for sale $400

Looking for a special home for a special gelding. He is 17 yrs old about 14.3hh large build, probably Morgan QH cross. He has a very pretty way of going, very collected. He has trail exp. Gets along well with other horses. UTD on shots, worming and feet just trimmed. Very tough strong feet, no cracks or chips. He is in good weight. He is missing an eye, but he is ok with it. He will turn to look at things, but has not bolted or spooked. He needs a confident rider, beginner ok, as long as confident. Would prefer a home with someone with some horse experience. Would do well with a teen rider. Not recommended for a small child, he is pretty powerfully built. No kick, bite or buck. Call for details. Up for adoption $400 or negotiable to proper home setting. Possible trades.

Seems to have all the relevant information right? So I thought, then came the emails, calls  and texts. First call, “Is he ready for the show ring? My daughter started riding lessons last week and now wants a show horse. Does he come with the show saddle and stuff too?”  (Are you freaking kidding? You can’t get a decent show saddle for $400, but she wants the saddle, show horse and he has to be ready for the ring too?) When I replied I knew of someone selling a show ready beginners horse, with all the tack for $8000,  she told me she was going to turn me in for bait and switch. Hmmmm. When I reminded her, she called me, and I was only selling a one eyed trail horse, not advertising a show horse, she called me names and hung up. Yay, one who probably  will not call again!

On to the emails. First email, “I am looking for a horse for my kids, they are 3, 5 and 6 years old. Can you tell me how much food he comes with and how long it will last him? Is a dog kennel big enough or would I have to put 2 together?” Um, nope.

Next email. “He is already 17, how many more years can you ride them, and do you have to get a special permit when it is time to butcher them and where do you have that done?” WTH??

“At 17 is he still old enough to have babies?” “Can you feed a horse on $10 a week?” “How long will it take for his eye to grow back?”

Then the good one, “We are looking for another trail horse as my husband and I both ride. We have had our mare for about 2 years and had another mare we leased from a local woman until she took her back last month.” Sounds good, maybe this is the home this gelding needs. I frantically dial the phone, hoping this one sane person hasn’t already found another horse! I talk to her for a few minutes and realize, this person is not sane at all, she has sucked me into her crazy universe.  Seems the local woman took the leased mare back when she came to check on her and found her mare tied to the side of the garage. “I don’t know why she got so upset, there is shade there, and it is right next to the water faucet.” She went on to tell me how this mare she had leased had problems wearing a saddle, she got sores on her back all the time when they used one so they had to ride her bareback. I asked her what kind of saddle pad or blanket they used with the saddle. Also if she was sure the saddle fit properly. She told me that this is Arizona, horses don’t need blankets or pads to keep warm, and they would get too hot if she was to use one. Also she had been told she needed a 17″ saddle so that is what she had bought. So, she said, she knew the right size. I did not have enough coffee, or my brain was leaking out my ears or something because instead of hanging up and removing the ad and changing my number I tried to explain that the seat size and the way the saddle fit the horse were 2 entirely different things. Also the saddle blanket or pad was not to keep the horse warm, but to protect and cushion the horses back form the saddle.  I was laughed at and told I really needed to learn more about horses and riding.

After beating my head on the wall for 20-90 minutes, I went outside to spend time with my horses and ignored the texts and phone calls for a while. I know they are there waiting, but I probably need to have a glass of wine and a Xanax before tackling them next time. Wish me luck, or at least remind me not to invite these people out for long rides out into the desert.