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June 14, 2011 Leave a comment

Hi all…

This blog was temporarily set up as the mobile site for Tucker the Wunderkind.  Blogger appears to be working on their own version of a mobile site, so for now, this blog is not current.  For current posts, please visit us at www.tuckerthewunderkind.blogspot.com.  Thanks for stopping by!

Marissa

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Categories: Uncategorized

>To: My Readers; From: Tucker; Re: Plea for Return to Normalcy

May 25, 2011 2 comments

>Hello everyone,

Yes, it’s me.  She finally gave me some face time with you.  Well, actually, she doesn’t really know that I’ve hacked into the blog.  Hudson told me I could tap into the wireless signal of a nearby house, and since my field happens to be next to the farmhouse, voila, here I am, connected to the world.  Then he gave me a tip about making friends with a cat (which I’m really good at, obviously, see here and here — didn’t even need to mention “tuna”).  Once I was connected, it was just a matter of hacking, and I adore hacking!  I win hacks all the time.  Nothing to it, really.

You may be wondering why I’ve waited until now to address you directly.  This blog, after all, has been going on for almost two years now, and I haven’t felt a need to make an appearance yet, even though I absolutely could have, should the need have arisen.  Up until now I believe my mother has been representing my interests well… though at times, I feel she paints me in a rather comical light, even in more serious moments, like when our general welfare and safety is at stake…. 

I have no idea why you all find my bravery in these circumstances so funny, but humans are a strange and illogical breed.  Which is why I do, at times, “play the fool” for your general amusement.  I have learned, over time, that humans are easily amused, and prone to dispense treats with a frequency directly proportional to the amount of ridiculous tricks, endearing faces, and kind gestures that a horse displays.  Of course, treats are also dispensed based on level of performance, but truly, I perform well for my own satisfaction.  It’s a matter of pride, really, to do a job so well. 

Which brings me to my point.  My job.  I am a hunter, and while it took me a few years to catch on to the point of this sport, I have now mastered it and believe that I execute my role with tact, finesse, and style.  The tact, of course, comes into play when I overlook the occasional pilot error and recalculate the amount of strength and impulsion that will be required in order to clear the obstacle before us in a safe and efficient manner, and stifle my urge to express my displeasure with this situation upon landing.  The finesse allows me to make the above-described “recalculations” appear natural and effortless, a feat I have mastered over the course of several years of experience (believe me, she gives me lots of practice covering up these things).  And then there’s style, which really can’t be learned.  It’s something a horse is either born with or without, and I don’t mean to sound boastful, but like I said, I’m good at my job. 

In recent months, however, I have been prevented from doing my job.  First there was the awful month of March.  An entire month where I was denied my usual recreation and workout, and instead kept confined to my stall for days on end, for no reason that I could surmise at all.  The weather appeared fine and from what I could gather, the other horses with whom I am stabled continued to go about their usual routines.  I continued to receive daily food and care from the lovely individuals who appear to be responsible for me when my mother is not available, so perhaps it was simply an oversight.  For the life of me, I will never know what happened during that month nor why I was confined in such an unreasonable manner.  There was, of course, some talk of the minor abrasion to my right hock, but I can assure you, it was nothing.  I do appreciate my mother’s concern and her care for it, but honestly, I could have continued on with my job and would have been happy to do so.

Then there was a very brief interlude where I was again released to my field for recreation, though once again, for reasons unknown to me, I was returned to my stall for almost the duration of April.  April, as you may or may not know, is the month where Spring grass really begins to grow in earnest.  It is, quite possibly, one of the best months of a horse’s year (well before the “annoying season” as Hudson so aptly put it).  It is also the month when horse shows begin outdoors again, which I find to be far more enjoyable than those dreadful winter shows, where one shivers on a trailer only to be led into a bleak, dark indoor where one must collect one’s stride between fences as well as through corners in order to manage a tidy picture in the confines of such a small enclosure.  An outside course, in my opinion, is really the only way to show off one’s true talents.

This April, however, did not bring such joys to my life.  Instead, I was yet again trapped in a 12×12 space for almost the entire span of the month.  During this time, my mother visited frequently, but seemed fixated solely upon my coat.  We did not exercise at all, but instead she spent day after day, night after night, currying, brushing, polishing, combing, spraying, and fussing over me like a champion show poodle (there were even several baths, a disgusting practice of which I highly disapprove, and I hear that there have been talks of a contest my mother is trying to win, which will surely bring on even more baths).  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  I enjoy grooming and find it relaxes and soothes my muscles after or prior to a hard physical workout.  The extra benefit that it keeps me looking so well is an added bonus, and I do understand that there is a certain element of physical attractiveness required for my job.  My problem is simply that the workout itself was entirely lacking from our routine.

Now that we are “back to work,” I’m sorry to report that our routine has been severely truncated.  My mother seems to have determined that the walk is the gait upon which we should concentrate, and we spend almost all of our time practicing it.  I’ve always felt that I have a lovely, natural, ground covering walk and need very little practice to master it.  I also enjoy being able to take in my surroundings and get a bit of sight-seeing done while walking and do not appreciate the level of concentration upon which she has been insisting while we walk.  In recent weeks, we do appear to be trotting with increasing frequency and intensity, which I must say is a good sign, and we are now occasionally cantering one circle at a time.  There remains, however, not a jump in sight (cavaletti and tiny cross rails do not — I repeat do not — count, particularly at the trot).  I’ve begun spooking at inanimate objects, in the hopes that she will “punish” this behavior by making me work harder, but to no avail.  She only pats my neck and reassures me, as though she believes I am genuinely frightened.

I write, therefore, to implore you to urge my mother toward a return to normalcy.  Tell her that she can ignore my panting and labored breathing, it’s nothing really.  Tell her that I am fit as a fiddle.  I am well rested and ready for work.  Summer is around the corner, and we have horse shows to attend!  Hitch up the trailer, fill the haynets, polish the tall boots!  What on earth is she waiting for?

Very truly yours,
Tucker M. River

>Pretty Pictures

May 23, 2011 4 comments

>Had a lovely day with Tucker yesterday (we cantered for the first time in two months!), not much time to blog this morning but wanted to share some pretty pictures with you:

All this rain has made the grass shoot up… it’s like horse heaven out there
Munch munch munch
Hi?

Mom?

MOM!

The girls trotted over to say hi when I pulled in and I thought they looked adorable
(that’s Tucker’s girlfriend in the middle, and the lovely mare that tolerated my dressage lesson on the right)
Categories: BCEC, photos, Tucker, turnout

>Tucker Explains the Wizard of Oz

May 16, 2011 6 comments

>So, I get to the barn on Saturday afternoon, very much looking forward to a nice ride outside.  I hadn’t seen Tucker in a couple of days, and the rain was holding off.  Perfect recipe for a great Saturday.  Couldn’t wait for some quality time with the best horse in the world. 

Just one problem.  As we exited the barn after tacking up, Tucker morphed into full-on, high alert, neon-sign-flashing-DANGER, drama-llama mode.  Okay, no problem, I’ll lead him down to the outdoor ring and get on there.  There was some construction happening and apparently all the loud noises were blowing his mind.

Little did I know what was in store for me.

We get down to the outdoor ring and I found myself having to hand walk my now-possessed beast in circles, which, at the time, was a lot more like flying a kite than leading a horse.  In his defense, there was a little more going on than your basic construction.  They were delivering big, pre-fab sheds on the end of a flat bed truck, and they were unloading directly in Tucker’s line of vision.

Finally, sick of staring into the whites of Tucker’s eyes and listening to him snort above my head, I decide to climb aboard.  After a few minutes of dancing and prancing, he settled down into a somewhat normal walk, though he continued to arch his neck, twitch his lips around and stare wild-eyed into the distance.

I decide to try and communicate.  Get his mind off his, um, troubles.  I head to the point of the ring farthest away from the sheds that are clearly going to kill us, and we do some spiraling in and out circles, some leg yields, and he eventually starts to relax and even stretches down a little.  He takes a big deep breath and I finally feel him starting to bend around my inside leg and start tracking up.  His back was relaxing.  Phew.  He’s finally back to normal. 

So, I ease him up into a trot.  OH MY.  He responds by stomping his front feet, shaking his head from side to side, and squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeling.  Uh… not exactly what I was expecting.  Okay, okay, okay.  Walk.  Just walk.  Calm down.  Please.

He walks and almost immediately settles back down.  I figure it’s a fluke.  We do a little more working walk and when I feel him getting bored to tears again, I cautiously ease him back into a trot.  Feet stomping!  Head shaking!  Squeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeee!  Oh dear lord.  Walk.  Please.  Walk.  Just… walk.

Me:  Um, Tucker?

Tucker:  Yeah?

M:  Mind explaining what the HECK is wrong with you?

T:  What’s wrong with ME?  What’s wrong with YOU?  It’s not safe out here you know.  We are in a very, very dangerous position.

M:  Didn’t realize that.  What exactly is unsafe about the outdoor ring?

T:  (He scoffs)  No, no, not the outdoor ring.

M:  Okay…. I’ll humor you.  Where is the danger, exactly?

T:  It’s the houses.  They are dropping houses.

M:  Oh, well, I really don’t think we need to worry about that.  They’re not going to drop any houses on you.

T:  You don’t know that! 

M:  Actually I kind of do.  There’s really no chance that one of those houses is going to fall on us.

T:  Not on my watch, that’s for sure!  But I can only do so many things at once. And I can’t watch for falling houses while we are trotting.  I mean what am I, a magician?

M:  I see.  So that’s why we can’t trot. 

T:  Now you’re catching on. 

M:  Since when do houses fall on horses or people?

T:  Haven’t you seen the Wizard of Oz?

M:  Tucker, there are no horses in the Wizard of Oz.

T:  MY POINT EXACTLY!  Horses are very intelligent creatures.  We don’t stick around when there are falling houses.  Dogs, lions, flying monkeys, that movie had everything except a horse.  And that’s because horses are way too smart to get distracted and wait around to have a house fall on their heads, so some filly can come along and steal our shoes.

M:  I see.  Let’s try trotting one more time okay?

T:  Squeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeee-eeee!

M:  *Sigh.*  Nevermind.

I don’t really think anyone would have believed me, except that when I got back up to the barn, I was explaining how the ride went to someone:  “Ugh, he was a NUTCASE today.  Every time I tried to trot, he’d shake his head and stomp his feet, and sq–” 

eeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeee!”  He was then kind enough to demonstrate for us. 

Once again, my horse has valiantly saved me from the brink of danger.  Thank heavens I have him to protect me at times like these.  Quite sure I would be lying under a house somewhere otherwise.  And some strange girl would have stolen my shoes.

Categories: flat work, freshness, humor, Tucker

>Afternoon Delight

May 13, 2011 4 comments

>I was just commenting recently on someone’s blog (and I can’t for the life of me remember whose it was — so if you remember, please help out a brain that is clearly aging before its time) that some of my favorite pictures of Tucker have been sent to me while I am at work.  There is something so wonderful about seeing your horse enjoying his day while you are stuck behind a desk earning the big bucks to keep him in the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed.

Here is one such photo, which I just received, of my horse enjoying a little afternoon snooze under the trees with his new turnout buddy:

It’s just too cute for words.  He is so adorable.  I heart him. 

I can’t wait to dote on him this weekend… it’s been a long week and I need a little Tucker time!

_____________________________
p.s. – Hey blogger, if you don’t want to find my last couple of posts, we can just keep them between us and forget I was ever being so childish and whiney.  Now that I think of it, maybe I am responsible for the Great Blogger Meltdown of 2011?  Was I really being so bratty that I crashed blogger?  It’s totally possible.  I can be really obnoxious when I want to be.  Just ask any of my ex-boyfriends.  They’ll be happy to tell you all about it.

Categories: photos, Tucker, turnout

>Better Today

May 12, 2011 2 comments

>We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming….

I am feeling a bit better today, even though I am still sad about missing yet another horse show.  Things that gave me a bit more perspective:

1.  I went out to the barn last night and Tucker started blowing in my ears and nuzzling my shoulder while I was texting outside his stall.  It melts me every time when he does that. 

2.  Tucker is definitely putting weight on now that the stress of stall rest is over, he’s getting plenty of good spring grass to eat, and he’s back to work.  I snapped this last night and he definitely looks a little better than he did two weeks ago, don’t you think?  His neck, shoulders, and back are filling out and muscling up nicely, and you can’t see ribs anymore.  His butt is still a little, um, jiggly (he begged me not to say that, but it’s the truth), but we’ll get there.  Lots of hill work, backing up, and transitions in our future.

3.  We had a great ride, even though it was only at the trot.  I had a complete deja vu moment in the middle of the ride, one of those creepy, I’ve been here/seen this/felt this before moments, and I realized driving home what it was — he felt just like his dad.  I had a crystal clear vision of looking down at that gorgeous stallion neck with its gleaming shiny-penny chestnut coat, and Tucker is starting to feel just like he did.  That same big swinging gorgeous trot. 

Sigh.  Love this horse.

>If we’re being honest…

May 11, 2011 4 comments

>I have little to report of interest on the Tucker front (we are up to 15 minutes of trotting with a couple of walk breaks in between!).  But I’m pretty sure I can’t bore you guys (or myself) any more than I already have with stories about Tucker trotting.  Would you like to hear about how we’ve started adding serpentines into the mix?  Yeah, I thought not.  I don’t feel like writing about it either.

Although I’m sure that after following me for years you’ve all come to the conclusion that I’m just an absolutely perfect person, devoid of any flaws whatsoever, and never have a bad day or think anything but bright, cheery, sunny thoughts… can I be honest for a second?  (I sincerely hope, by the way, that my many flaws are coming through on the blog.  I find them somewhat endearing, even if no one else quite sees it that way.)  Well assuming you all nodded at your computers just now and said “Yes, Marissa, please… be honest with us.  What’s up?”

I’m actually very busy right now moping and pouting and sinking myself into a miserable little heap.  I’m mentally stomping my foot.  I’m metaphorically crossing my arms and frowning.  I would very much like to trade places with my two-year-old niece today so that I could deliver one of those “nnnnnnnnnnnnNO!” pronouncements that she does so well.

Why, you ask, am I an overgrown toddler today?  Because, that’s why.  (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)  It’s the Wednesday before St. Christopher’s, one of my favorite away shows, and I should be packing the trailer and cleaning my tack and bathing my horse tonight, so that we’re ready for the drive tomorrow, but instead I’m planning on doing 15 minutes of trotting tonight.  I should be leaving work early tomorrow, but I’m not.  I will be doing laundry this weekend, when I should be sitting ringside watching the Mini Prix.  So I’m frowning.  There’s a picture of us from last year at St. Chris on my desk, and I swear, it’s mocking me.  So I’m frowning some more.

I know what you’re thinking.  I should be happy my horse is recovered right?  I should be looking forward to next month, when hopefully we’ll get to show again?  I should be happy that I even have a horse (wait a second, that I have two horses)?  Yeah, well, I’m not.  I’m pouting instead.  I’m being a brat.

I had an absolutely wonderful ride on Reggie, Alicia’s horse, this past weekend, cantering along in a big field… taking in deep breaths and smelling all the spring smells — grass, mud, flowers, fly spray, horse sweat, clean laundry….  It was heavenly.  It put me in a really good mood.  Until I realized that cantering my horse is still two weeks away.  Then I got mopey. 

But I guess this answers the question of why I do all the ridiculous things I do… why I spend all this time and money on a sport that requires me to get up before the sun and stand on a ladder for 2 hours… drive my truck and trailer all over the State of New Jersey every weekend… stand around in the hot sun all afternoon waiting for a class that was supposed to start at 10 a.m….  and come into work exhausted every Monday morning all summer long… 

Because without it, I am a pouty, whiney, annoying, sniveling little brat.  Nobody would read that blog.