“Let me help you”
“You can, but there’s nothing to help with. They’ll be standing here now.”
I look at the horses searchingly. After a seven-hour ride, they must be thirsty and hungry. And to leave them standing at the gate, still mounted…I don’t understand.
“You’re going to leave them standing like this?” I ask, slightly confrontational. They’re not my horses, but I can’t watch it anyway.
“Yeah. Now they have to stand for four hours. They’re sweaty. When they cool down, they’ll get water and a barley.”
“Do you do that after every ride?” I ask, uncomfortably.
“If they go for an hour or two, no. They don’t get warm. But if they go long, they do. If I unsaddle them now, they get cold. And if I let them go to the water now, they get colic.”
I remembered H and her five-second rule. If a horse is sweaty, I can let him go to the water to drink, but only for a maximum of five seconds. It won’t do him any good, but it will freshen his mouth and he’ll feel like he’s had a drink, the lip will go and he’ll be happier. But when he’s under saddle, he can’t drink cold mountain water from glaciers for more than those five seconds. She’s still counting out loud. The locals look at her like she’s crazy.
“When are you gonna take his saddle off?”
“In four hours. We’ll leave the blanket and the girth. So he won’t get cold. The mountain wind is cold.” He said with a wave of his hand, pointing to the entrance. “Tea.” He said resolutely.
The horses stood patiently tied at the gate, and hobbled along, hind leg loose, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. A seven-hour ride, four hours of sleep, and then a snack. I’ll send the hucul horse here for re-education.
And now I’m going to drink my tea obediently, so it won’t be anarchy in da UK: tea? No.
