dressage horse

Bratnik the Belle-nik is her nickname, and it couldn't be a better one. At three, she bites, she plays, she tries to incite mini equine riots with her older brothers. She's an adolescent chestnut mare to the nth degree.

Born on March 23 in an uneventful birth, Belle and mom Wrebecca looked destined to be a nice mom-and-daughter team, but a couple of days later (after the vet showed up for a check up) Wrebecca wanted to kill her. Literally. She turned on Belly and grabbed her by the neck and began to shake. In all my years of horsedom I've never seen anything quite as horrifying.

Without going into the details about midnight and three am bottle feedings, nurse mares, and helpful friends (I wrote the story for Equus a couple of years ago), I'll just say that Belle was effectively orphaned that day, and was raised by our very funny goat, Petunia (to whom she is still very attached) and my two geldings, who did a good job on teaching her manners. At six months I turned her out with a friend's recently weaned horse and the two of them became buddies. I brought her home after six months and she's turning into a gorgeous girl, if one with attitude. We've been working on longeing (walk trot, over poles, over little jumps) and tacking up (fine, a little tight in the back for the first few minutes of saddling), and I've sat on her many times while she's lying down and leaned over her from a mounting block. She's a lovely mover, a natural jumper, and an all around good looking girl. With attitude.

Big bad B. Bossman. The Whale. Bossy B.

Those are just a few of the nicknames for Baleno, my second level, almost third level, dressage horse. I bought him from Ann Sparks Whitten of Horses Unlimited, at an auction, and he was a bargain, but a more Alpha gelding you'll never meet. He's absolutely, positively in charge.

We've gotten to be a good team after the first tough year...now, four years into our partnership he no longer rears and tries to rub me off on the fence, and he's getting really good at dressage. Out on the trail, though, he can only be described as a turd. He'll spin and turn for home, and he knows he can out-muscle me, but I whack him once and then he behaves again, for awhile. Then we repeat that performance.