The work begins

Pastis is the national drink of France. It's also the name of this horse. Or maybe Balthazar... Last night he was Balthazar but today definitely pastis. Today was also an introduction to the curry comb. And the perfect way to put practice into action. Curry, curry, curry, curry, blink, stop. Curry, curry, blink, stop. And so on and so forth. He loves to be around people and is getting the hang of following. And... He made goat friends and shares a stall with Orwell, the pig.

Big open spaces

Rather tragic that the mustang is enclosed in a space 24' by 24', but rules are rules. Pastis thinks so too. He knocked his gate in a desperate attempt to flee from captivity. That's my boy. So off the wild prairies of winterville he went, with only a lunge line to hold him back. Geometry isn't a horse's forte but after a while the notion of a circle / ellipse made enough sense to stop for the day. Then it was time to play with the herd of tiny terrors. Supervised playtime.

Rough around the edges

He has a heart of gold, but his overall appearance needs a little TLC. It's transition time between Tasmanian devil and the sharp gentleman version 2.0.

Desensitization

Home sweet home

Big moving day. Brought the beast home. But he's not a beast. He came right out of the trailer without much resistance and walked like a big boy all the way to his pen. The chickens were the only source of anxiety, and understandably so. Those things can be imposing when they're all lined up at the gate. Worked a little in the pen. He follows around pretty well. I just can't get over how forgiving and good natured he is. The goats and rooster were all up in his business and he couldn't have cared less.

Notsocrazyhorse

He's an angel. Really. I was all up in his ears and belly and he didn't pitch the least bit of a fit. Maybe it was due to the fact that the guy at his temporary station worked with him for two hours. That might do it. Real talk though, this lil guy is cool as a cucumber but as smart as a whip. He's gonna need some serious entertainment.

Auction Day

Cowboy hats are real, and so are turquoise pointy toed boots, and they're in no shortage if you know the right places. Amidst all the bejeweled back pockets of jeans and belt buckles that look like they could be used to brand a calf were over a hundred wild 'stangs. All arranged neatly in squares in a perfectly round ring in middle tennessee. Them cowboys have it down to a scientific art form. I just cringe any time they pass under a gate. It's a wonder nobody's fallen off like in a poorly written movie fight scene. The BLM doesn't seem like one to drug horses but they all seemed calmer than expected. Everybody knows mustangs are fire breathing dragons. Naturally all fire breathing dragons are manipulative and most likely cast a love spell on anyone who dares come near them because choosing just one is quite possibly one of the most heart wrenching things in the entire southeastern United States. We almost came home with three. And trying to predict what a horse will go for at auction is like trying to predict the outcomes of a slot machine. So when the second choice horse went to the pool, you best believe it was a mad dash to the BLM lady to see if that was even allowed. Reason was able to conquer the situation and we left with this beauty.