A storm is on the horizon, the wind is fiercely pushing it our way. With the wind comes unrest, riding it's coat tails. All the animals are edgy, they spent yesterday in the barn out of the wind because it was blowing so hard and now they just want to get outside but it's not much fun in the icy wind.
Iggy is having his own stormy day, his dear friend Rocky is no longer a nose away, he can see him but they can no longer joust across the fence line. Iggy is two and a half years old and with spring on it's way, he is growing. Playing with Rocky involves rearing, growth spurts with joints enlarging are not a good mix with rearing. Iggy is not happy, letting me know this is just not right. You can see it in his face.
He and the storm have a lot in common, both expressing on the very same day, change in its magnificent beauty and fright.
Both expressing their strength and might letting out all that is tucked so tightly inside, those thoughts not finding understanding, natures elements raging in plain sight.
Iggy and the clouds both shimmering in the light, tossing about as both take flight.
This dear almost stallion, maturing in front of my very eyes as the storm does... forming, bringing forth his individual gifts. He and I have had a stormy relationship, he was so sick for so long, I was the one giving him shots, rubbing ointments onto his bed sores that would not heal until the immune system caught up. About a year ago biting became a way of expressing his discontent. Just like the storm, it was a way he could let it all out, it was a tricky situation for me. I decided just not to touch him for a while, he had had enough of that. I respected his space and in doing so over time he started respecting mine.
Trust came slowly, at first it was passing his nose over my side while I changed his water. I had to trust him that he would not bite, it took all my might to do so. This has been going on now for months and to my amazement he no longer tries to bite. When blanketing him, he moves for me so I can get all the buckles done, when changing water buckets he move out of my way even while eating, which is his most favorite thing to do right now.
To storms in all their shapes and sizes, may we all weather them and learn from them, of course, over time...
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*Last time in Barn Stories: Gray Day NYC