I didn't know what filthy was

Until this morning. I got these photos from my bathroom window, as Baasha decided to coat himself again.

He has mud dreadlocks.

Imagine trying to ride a horse with this caked on mud. Of course his back would be clean, but there is no way to make his front end presentable.

Despite this, I took Baasha for a nice walk tonight, cringing when people drove by, cuz I knew they were thinking how horrible! Poor horse!

There's the WW2 bunker, but where's the trail?

We went to a familiar trail in the woods and found it completely cleared. Baasha was very upset, he kept tossing his head and stamping his feet like "No Way!" and then he actually twirled around me on the leadline a few times, jumping up as if to rear. It was so cute. I don't know where this was coming from but it is good to see him acting out. Until we get another horse I know he's understimulated. I work all day and basically I take care of his feet and feed him very generously, that is my nightly interaction with him. It's not enough.

Dis-gust-ing.

Hm, I wonder what he looks like under this blanket?

I wiped most of the mud off the clip and held my breath.

How is this even possible?

Other side, same thing.

I asked my man, "Why do people say a dirty horse is a happy horse?"

He answered, "The horse is exercising choice to look that way. He decides to be muddy and controlling his appearance is a freedom that he has."

I asked, "Does he like the feeling of the mud or does he like having mud on him or does he even know at all that he is muddy afterwards?"

That one he couldn't answer.

I don't get it, I just know that it's God's sense of humor that I, clean freak, get a horse who mud bathes every day to the fullest extent.

We got hay this morning, which interrupted us from sleeping in, and Carsten is selling bedding now (leinstroh which is miniaturized hay, all hacked up). He not only saw our horse looking like this, he saw the stall before I had a chance to clean it. How embarrassing!

Baasha kept trying to nuzzle him - he loves visitors - and Carsten kept moving out of reach. I thought "Oh geez, here's another guy who rides but sees horses as tools." He has never acknowledged Baasha, not a moment. And he's a horseman - his name is in our local paper because he's a hunter/jumper rider and he wins tournaments. I've been told he rides the most expensive horses in our region, and that he only feeds them the hay he grows himself. In our field: ) Aha, that's where the good stuff goes!

It makes me sad that yet another male professional rider has shown such coldness to my horse. Just a moment's acknowledgement, just a touch, or eye contact, would have satisfied Baasha. (Not that Baasha's a cuddly horse, he just wants to make contact with visitors.) (Photo is our field today, looking fragile from all this rain/hail/sleet. The problem with the mud is, usually this time of year the ground is frozen. But I've only scraped ice of the car twice this Winter. Unbelievable! The paddock is a mud pit. I will not take a photo.

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Thursday night the doorbell rang and it was the ranger/hunter in our neighborhood. He said, "We're conducting a hunt this weekend and wanted to warn you if your horse is afraid of gunshot." (Photo shows my car parked out of the way of Carsten's hay delivery.)

I said, "No worries, he has no fear of weapons."

He said, "That's good. I told Mr. S (across the street) and he is keeping his horses in, they don't handle it well."

I forgot to ask for details but later my man called and got them. They are hunting foxes. And crows. There are too many, they say. My man asked if they'd also take care of the moles, hehe. I say, the crows around here are horrible and I'd be happy to see them all gone. They tear apart the horse manure making it hard to clean up, and they prowl my front yard arrogantly. They are incredibly obnoxiously loud, it sounds like children screaming, it's unearthly, the way this community of crows communicates.

This morning they set up signs on the road to warn people.

This afternoon I saw them move across the field across the street. They had dogs too, and I thought how funny, they even have a dachshund!

This is in such contrast to America, where no one asks, where it's up to the citizens to be careful and expect shooting in the woods in fall.

These are the only civilians in Germany who own guns. Weird, huh? CORRECTION: My man tells me that you are allowed to shoot guns if you are a member of a shooting range. But you cannot take both gun+bullets home with you afterward.

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In closing, this is Baasha's daytime eating place, an area I made of geotiles so he doesn't stand in mud to eat during the day.

Instead of the slow feed methods for easy keepers, I do the fast feed method of giving him half a bale twice a day, and hope he eats it all. I close the stall so he doesn't hang out in there all day, but he goes in at night (and from the poop count doesn't often leave it).

There's me in my new Tevis 2011 volunteer shirt (I'm wearing a flannel mostly to not get Baasha's grime all over it). Thanks Funder! I'm the coolest American in Germany: ) I also wanted to include this photo cuz even though I cannot stand to see myself lately, it annoys me when bloggers don't let us see who they are. Ugh. Enough of that now!

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I wanted to share a few more pics of our street, a house I think is wonderful, and their Hobbit home garage (across the street), and their sheep (also across the street). (I've mentioned before the mystery of Germany's homes with land/outbuildings across the street? So odd!) This is a typical Bergisches Land house with the slate siding I love so much, that many find cold. I am sad that only one side of my house has it!

The sheep all spoke to us in different vocal ranges of Baaaa. The hail did not bother them with these thick coats.

That's the end of our walk - we're just around the corner from here. Thanks for coming along on the filthy horse walk!