hummala bebhuhla zeebuhla bop - Life goes on... without me

Meanwhile… back at the blog…

You may wonder – what ever became of Muddy View Acres? 

Well, the horse world is no different than any other ecosystem, or maybe the juice in the container in your fridge.  Over time, all of the different bits and pieces filter out and find their right niche.  No matter how you might mix up the silt and gravel or pulp and watery orange stuff, they always work to return to their proper place in the hierarchy over time.  People who expect blanketing and boots go to barns where you pay for blanketing and boots.  Or, they change their standards to match their pocketbooks.  Or, they hang around whining about the situation, until everyone is wishing they bought “pulp free”, or at least one of those containers with the built in stirring thing so you could try to flagellate them into…er, somewhere else.  Anywhere else. 

And MVA is in exactly this same situation – it has found it’s own sedimentary layer of boarders who don’t mind mud, nicks, cuts, burrs, absence of boots and blankets for turnout etc. etc. etc.  if it means they can actually afford to own their horse.  And there is nothing wrong with that.   Actually, I drive by it about 2x per week, and it appears to be thriving.  The owners were fairly ignorant when it came to caring for horses, true.  However it was as though construction was in their blood.  They have since built row upon row of beautiful outdoor shelters, contained within decent safe looking fences, round bale plunked in the centre…and they have become one of the “outdoor pasture board” havens of the region.

I would say there are probably 50 horses on the property, which makes me wonder what sort of horror show the arena is now, but it is probably not bad at all – In reality, I would guess that out of that 50, maybe 5 are owned by “serious” riders that do much beyond petting, grooming and hitting a trail now and then.  The rest are likely just people who love their horses.

They also don’t seem to have a website, or a lot of advertising – so I am assuming they are full or not hurting for business, anyways.  

Also I did want to clarify – please do not think that I am implying that MVA had an exceptionally exceptional batch of railbirds.  No, not at all.  I would say every barn with more than 10 boarders – some with more than 5 – have at least one or two people who you just would love to silence with duct tape. 

(I have of course been fortunate enough to run into one of MVA’s new generation of hot railbirds at a dinner party a while back, and listening to her talk, one would assume it has transformed into some sort of breeding ground for future World Cup riders.  Mr. Motard was intrigued – wow, MVA has come a long way since you were there, Curmudgeon!  Me, uh...not so much.  Luckily, the red wine was plentiful and not from Ontario, and by using it as an invaluable tool I was able to more or less dull the pain of listening to her voice).

And, it is not just the equestrian world either.  For example - for some reason (*cough*Mr. Motard*cough*) I attended a radio controlled airplane show a few weekends ago (Yes.  Really.) and paid $5.00 to bake in an open airfield while watching grown men play with their $2000 toys.  (How stupid is this, says the woman with the $100,000 pet).   I eventually ended up behind some big sweaty radio controlled airplane enthusiasts in the food line.  I recognized one of them as the owner of one of the fastest, fanciest jet planes in the show

(I don’t know a single thing about the radio controlled airplane circuit, but he was from the U.S as were several other exhibitors, so I am assuming this was a fairly decent show - but based on the venue, no World Cup.  Maybe like a Palgrave Gold show).

The line was hot and freakishly slow, and so I got to hear more about the politics of radio controlled airplanes than I ever wanted to hear as the two of them gossiped.  Well, come to think of it, I never wanted to hear anything on this topic, so it was really an overload.  (What would have been really interesting to know is why the big sweaty dude felt he needed 2 hotdogs plus fries and a soft drink, but that is just the nutritionist in me being horrified by mankind and expecting that there is some sort of reasonable explanation.  There never is).

The point of my story is… you could have taken out key words like “Yak 54” or “ARF” and replaced with “Dutch Warmblood” and “Schoolmaster” and you would have thought you were at a dressage show.  The same gossip themes abound everywhere

“Oh, yah.  That Joe is quite a piece of work.  He fixes up crappy ARFs people have given up on, then expects premium price after he puts in a little time.  I am on to his game”

(Translation – he buys poorly started horses and flips them)

“Sure, sure, the Yak 54 he bought is a nice plane, I am not arguing with you on that. But the bottom  line is.. he still is going to have to know how to fly it or it is garbage”. 

Sit back!  Sit back!  

(Translation – she may have imported a nice schoolmaster, but she still sucks as a rider).  

Yep, the toys may change, but the human operators don't.  We just have different stretchy pant uniforms.  

Which reminds me… it is time to start talking about how my lessons with Coach Ritenau were coming along, isn’t it.