I call my horse Lilly "Brumby" as a term of endearment. But I didn't make the word up! In Australia a wild horse is called a brumby or brumbie. The word derives from the name of a Major William Brumby, an early 19th century settler from England who was a noted breeder of horses. Through the years a large number of his stock escaped and became feral. Another possible origin of the word-Booramby, Aborigine for wild.
Last weekend I was not riding my brumby because I was in Maine hanging out in gorgeous scenery like this.
I love how in Maine you can get strawberry milk from a farm called Smiling Hill. That is too wonderful.
Here I am (literally) at Land's End on Bailey Island.
Today however, I was back with my brumby. When she saw me coming, first she had a little skirmish with Ruby at the hay rack. And then she willingly walked to the gate to accompany me to the barn. Such a good girl! Maybe she knew I had carrots for her. I found this orange tape all snarled up in her hair.
It has snowed a little last night and this had me worried about Lilly's feet because she has shoes on, but without the rubber rings that prevent snow and ice from building up under her foot. It is also hunting season so before we left, I had to do quite a bit of bedazzling.
Bill decided to come with me on Charlie. I offered to bedazzle Charlie with some bright pink ribbon, but Bill declined, saying Charlie was a gelding. Bah! So instead, Charlie got orange.
In Massachusetts, you can't hunt on Sundays. So I know I should just wait until Sunday to ride. I just hadn't seen Lilly at all the weekend before, so I was just dying to ride her adventurously. The reward was great: the woods were magically beautiful.
Bill pointed out that riding along with hunters might not only mean your horse could get shot, it could simply mean that the sound of a shotgun may be very alarming to your unsuspecting brumby ambling along the trail. We ride on posted land...but that does not mean the owners of the land do not hunt there, or allow their friends to do so.
Anyway, today to be safe, we were only on the Short Trail, and then we went on the road...which is quite like a trail itself, especially after a magical snowfall.
Sometimes when we are first on the trail, the horses feel like coiled springs. They feel like they just want to run and run and let it all out. But then, they settle down and the ride is wonderful.That is, as long as I have Toe Warmers in my boots! Merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.
Back at the barn, I had Bill pop Lilly's shoes off. That way, no teetery, snowbally high heels. And then tomorrow, before the Patriot's game, Bill told me he can put her winterized shoes on.I took this picture to show how flat Lilly's feet are, and how she has no heels! Good grief, her feet are as strange and complicated as her temperament is warm and placid.
I hope you have enjoyed reading my blog! One day I hope to make it bigger and better! Click on the words "Older Posts" right above this note if you would like to see more entries about me and my brumby.