Rides Around: Little Joe

When I think of riding around, it doesn’t bring to mind anything with a motor.

Little Joe was one of three “new horses” purchased by the barn where I worked in north Georgia.  He came along partway through my ten years there, and quickly earned a place in my heart.  He was on the small side (hence the name) and very timid.

The first morning we met, I arrived at the barn with some advance warning — there were new horses; they were just settling in, and there were instructions on how much and what type of grain and hay they should receive for breakfast.  The first hour of the barn days were always heaven, but when there were new horses I would practically skip to the office.

The routine was simple, peaceful and relaxing.  I’d check to make sure all stalls had hay and clean water, and then fill up food buckets one by one.  Once all the stalls were ready, I’d walk up to the pasture and let the horses down for the day.  Most of the time, they’d go to their own stall and quickly get to munching on breakfast.  But some of the smarter and faster horses knew they could get a couple extra mouthfuls by zipping into a neighbor’s stall.  They’d snatch gulps of food before one of the staff could shoo them out and into their own stall, where a full bucket would still be waiting.

So there was a bit of a pecking order, and poor Little Joe was new, and … little.  He came down last, and was trembling.  He didn’t want to go in his stall.  He was intimidated by the bigger, more dominant horses.  The poor thing was just scared.

I got him into his stall by coaxing him with food from my hand.  He ate some, but was still shaking, so I got my breakfast, a bowl of instant oatmeal with apple chunks, and brought it to him.  He slowly relaxed while enjoying my breakfast, gently taking scoops from my hand.

Day by day, Little Joe got more and more comfortable, until he found his stall just fine in the morning, and he no longer trembled when the other members of the herd came near.  I chose him for many a trail ride, and he stayed calm and steady.  While he eventually settled in, he never settled for just one breakfast.  He would smell the oatmeal in the microwave and meet me in the breezeway, ears up and ready for a treat.  I’d have a bite and scoop one out for him, back and forth, until it was gone.  Oatmeal and apples.  Breakfast for two.