PrintElla is kind of weird.
She's always been a little strange. We hung a Jolly Ball in her stall from a rope tied to the ceiling, and now she likes to pin the ball against the wall with her butt and slowly sit on it, because she likes the whooooosh noise that it makes. She gets flustered by some of the easiest, most boring stuff, but then she can approach the tough stuff, like the piaffe and pirouettes and whatever, with incredible aplomb. She occasionally goes on hunger strikes. And change is VERY, VERY BAD. She's just a little weird.
She's also incredibly talented and very valuable, so when she started being very self-destructive in turnout as a young horse, I didn't put a ton of effort into trying to "get her through it." She didn't want to be outside? OK. We'll make other arrangements.
So for the last few years, Ella has worked in the morning, then gone for a walk in-hand or, now in Virginia, in our neat-o exerciser. She's extremely happy doing this, and whatever makes Ella happy makes me happy.
So flashback to the Big Epic Snow of a week or so ago, when we got two feet of the stuff dumped on us. We were up to our eyeballs trying to keep up with shoveling and plowing, so I didn't do any riding that day, and I went to pop Ella on a longe line for a few minutes just to let her get her ya-yas out. I boot her up and put her on the line, and we go to leave the barn for the arena.
She DRAGS me out into the snow, eating it, sniffing it, flinging it around with her nose. I let her play for a minute, then try to redirect her into the ring. No dice. She stands on the precipice of the arena and plants her feet like a mule. I finally get her in the ring, where she longes like an old lesson pony, looking wistfully out at the snow.
And an idea hits me. I wonder?
Back to the barn, and we borrow a turnout rug—it's been so long since she was a turnout horse, she doesn't have her own—and we put her out in one of our little stonedust all-weather paddocks, small enough that she can't get into too much trouble.
Ella strolls around the paddock, nose to the snow, pawing and rolling and thrilled to bits to be out there. No leaping, no running, no stress. Cool.
Next day, still plenty of snow to keep her amused. So after working, out she goes. And she stays out, quiet as a lamb, all day.
It's Day 3 I fear. The snow is starting to melt, and it's getting packed down anyway from the horses. But nope, Ella is quiet and happy, eats her hay, stands around, like the normalest horse you've ever seen.
That was last week. The snow is mostly gone, and we've had every inclement weather imaginable since—rain, sleet, and yesterday's charming 60 mph winds. And there is Ella, out standing in her field, like she was born to do it.
Ella can, for now at least, handle being outside like a Real Horse, and she can also handle carefully managed change—two good things to come from the snowstorm. My shoveling muscles, however, are still recovering. Ugh.
