Three Fillies, continued ...
The Winslow filly came up for sale first. A wrangler shoved
her into the auction ring. She dashed and skidded about, whinnying.
The mare she had nursed from cried out, thrashing inside the
arena entry chute. Its iron walls clanged with her hoof strikes.
I wondered. Should I wait for the pretty, mellow appaloosa
to come up for sale? I recognized Dennis Chavez, standing on
the lower rung of the pipe bars of the auction ring. I saw him
lift a finger. The auctioneer nodded. Chavez was bidding for
the Winslow filly.
No! For the first time I was bidding against Dennis and his
DC Livestock operation.
"Winslow" was soon mine.
After the sale we lined up in our '86 Volvo station wagon
pulling the Wulfekuhle's horse trailer to get the filly. Everyone
else was picking up stock in trailers hauled by pickups or duallies
(one ton trucks with double wheels at the rear). Yes, they stared
at us.
We got home and unloaded her. Winslow backed out of the trailer,
wheeled and took off at a dead run. She managed to tear through
three sections of electric fence before Valerie and Virginia
and I worked her into a wood-fenced corral. We let Vashti in
to keep her company.
For the first day Winslow ignored our alfalfa. She grubbed
up the few wisps of grass growing in the corral. The next morning,
having eaten all the grass, she stood by Vashti sniffing the
alfalfa she was munching. Winslow finally got brave enough to
try some herself.
My idea was to let Vashti reassure Winslow that we were OK.
So the day after we got her, I began training by working the
two into a tight corner. I petted Vashti while Winslow cowered
on the other side of her. I gradually worked my hands over to
where I was petting Winslow, too. After about an hour of this,
I was able to slip a halter on Winslow.
Late in the afternoon Debbie came over. She showed us a no-tears
method to halter break horses. Debbie attached a soft cotton
lead rope to Winslow's halter and turned her loose. The idea
was to let her figure out this halter and rope business by herself.
Debbie told me that the cotton wouldn't give her rope burns.
If she got tangled, it would snap before it could choke her or
break a bone.
Every time Winslow or Vashti stepped on the lead rope, Winslow
couldn't go anywhere until someone moved the foot that was on
the rope. She soon learned that if she would be patient, and
just quietly shuffle about, she would soon get free. This taught
her not to fight the rope, yet to move a little bit whenever
she felt it pull.
When Winslow galloped, the rope swung harmlessly around her
legs and body. This taught her that the rope wouldn't hurt her.
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