This blog is for horse owners, and those who want to become one. There are 1000 good reasons to buy a horse, but you should never forget that: First, it is different and, secondly, you think.
Have you ever accompanied a foal during its first months of life? Make the first jumps, see how it discovers the world and how to make new jokes every day? If so, you know exactly how I felt when my riding mare gave birth to her foal: whether I wanted to or not, my heart opened with such power and so much that this little delicate thing touched his staccato legs just climbed in and would never come out again.
All of a sudden, it was not just the two to three hours I spent stabling looking after my chestnut mare, but quickly four to five. Even though my social life began to suffer (at least outside the stable), my horizons were widening every day, because such a little horse child is capable of surprising you over and over again, triggering both panic and anger attacks, and above all to conjure up a smile on your face over and over again.
At first, the little Stutchen was very shy and fled in spite of all curiosity in panic before any overtures, it was quickly brave and cheeky and turned out to be a small jacket, boots, and saddle-chewing monster, not to mention the very strong talent to steal things such as riding caps or brushes.
Particularly nerve-wracking for all sides, however, were the moments in which mother and foal lost sight of each other, which happened especially when one was on the way to the pasture and always led to the little chestnut mare whistling across the yard galloped, while the great chestnut mare's hand was almost impossible to hold on and tried hard to break free and collect her lost child.
The longer I watched the little mare, the more enthusiastic I was about her. She grew to a small likeness of her mother, only a shade darker. And if I've always dreamed of a chestnut mare, then not just a normal, golden-brown fox, but most of all one of those wonderful dark foxes with that rich reddish brown tan and fair hair to which the little one changed when she lost her foal skin ,
When, finally, my rather amateurish idea of the perfect horse was underlined by the judges at the foal show, for which we had spruced up mother and daughter, the soft question grew: What, if I do not grow up a mature horse, but a mine Would buy foals? One that had conquered my heart in the storm and that I had accompanied from the first day of his life, and that neighed like his mother when I came? Would not that be the fulfillment of each rider's dream?
Well, maybe you already suspect what should come out with this consideration
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