Guess who is officially a yearling today???
In some ways it’s like WOW time flies, how he is a year old already? And in other ways I’m looking at all the gray hairs I’m sporting these days and wondering if it’s just my imagination that 90% of them have popped up in the past year. Only a year? THREE more til we’re even thinking about eventing? Sigh. Baby horses really are the long, hard road.
I can’t say that I’m not thrilled with him so far though. Sure, he looks a little bit like a mangey brown flamingo right now, but if your eyes can see past the yearling uglies, I think he’s going to be a nice horse. His gaits are good, he’s leggy, he’s athletic, and he’s smart. I can already see that we will definitely butt heads on a regular basis – that little turd is stubborn and calculating – but those qualities could really come in handy later in his career, so ya know… fair trade.
I see a lot of his sire in him, and also a lot of his dam too. It’s fun to sit there and watch him and be able to pick out which qualities he got from which parent.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget his birth. His sneaky mom laying down out in the pasture in the middle of the afternoon and squirting him out in 10 minutes. The way I felt when I saw that little white foot for the first time. The fact that he was neighing before he was even all the way out. Him thinking that we were his mom before he realized she was right behind him. Those first few steps right through the big pile of hay, because why do anything the easy way?
I loved him immediately.
It’s also hard not to think back on those dark few weeks at the beginning of his life, too. I’m not sure that I’m ready for all the facebook memories that are going to start popping up in my feed. It just breaks my heart all over again. He still has a little hairless scar from where his IV catheter sat taped to his neck, covered in elastikon, for 3 weeks. In some ways that scar is a point of pride. He’s a survivor, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable odds.
His story could so easily have had a different ending, and this would be a very different post that I’d have been writing today. But instead I’m wearing one of my Presto Warrior shirts, feeling extremely grateful that I had the opportunity to buy him a goofy hat and make him a silly cake. Maybe I’m that horse owner now. Maybe I’m okay with that.
Happy Birthday little man. You don’t even know how loved you are.