In the last few days i have learned a powerful lesson from my mare. A mare is a she in the equine world. It has been said that you tell a gelding but always ask a mare. A mare can have a mind of her own, and she is never afraid to let you know how she feels about a matter. She is quick to use her free will to convince you that the decision is always hers to make. Free will. Her decision. Her way.
So goes the story. Brio, twelve years old. Independent. Basically a compliant personality. She can certainly have her moments. And there have been a few people she just did not care for, and was quick to let them know. In the past for the most part I have been able to remember the rules and let her think that my choices were hers.
The vets were here this week and they shared the information I already knew but was not ready to admit. She is fat. Like obese fat. I had her to a trainer. She lost a few pounds. Fresh spring grass found them for her rather quickly. My good veterinarian offered a solution that had not occurred to me. Though it should have. A grazing muzzle. She had one, hanging in my feed room. She had used it in the past. It limits the amount of feed she can eat and slows down the process. So she eats less.
Good plan. The next day I am running behind. Of course in a hurry. I rush to the barn to let the herd out to pasture for the day. Everyone is kicking their walls. whinnying loudly, impatient to get out to that great green pasture. I grab the muzzle and head into her stall. Brio's stall. Yes. I forgot the golden mare rule. Walking up to her with the apparatus in hand I reach for her head. Yea, she took one look at me and gave me her butt. He big quarter horse rear end. Not to worried, I walked around towards her head. Only her head again became her rear. After a few circles around the stall both of us are getting peeved. Problem is her twelve hundred pounds to my, well somewhat less than that creates a disadvantage for me.. I see the legs attached to that rear end beginning to pick themselves off the floor shavings and point in my direction. Now I am getting unsettled. She is working up to war. Fine! Stay inside today. I throw her a flake of hay and hurry out.
OK. That didn't work. I knew it. I knew why. Later that day I go back out to the barn. Brio is calmer as am I. Lesson learned. I approach her slowly. Whispering gently and scratching her favorite itches. I walk slowly up her side to her head. Still whispering and rubbing. She knows what I am up to, but is not overly anxious. I gently swing a lead rope over her neck and quietly decrease the slack. She resits some, but I am able to slip the contraption over her muzzle and ears and set the clip. I continue to fuss and love on her as I slip a treat into the nylon cage. Front door is open. She turns her head back, twice for a second look and lopes off the her pals.
Back in the house I think back over the the two interactions of the day. I am reminded of my free will granted by my Father in heaven. He never forces us to do His will. He asks. He does not tell. He is gentle. Kind. Patient. He acts out of love. I love my silly stubborn Brio, but I must ask her gently, kindly, and she will trust me and do what I ask. God is the same. His loves draws us in, and even if we are not excited, maybe barely willing, His patience and kindness encourages us to trust him and follow His ways.
grazing muzzle
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