Literally just a bunch of stuff that I doubt I'll continue

Equestrian Academy

As we travel slowly down the winding roads, our two horse float on the back, my precious Dutch Warmblood gelding inside. I can't help but be incredibly excited.

I know what you're thinking, how did the scholarship girl afford a Dutch warmblood?

Well I didn't pay a cent.

My parents aren't horsey, I'm in fact the only one in my whole family who's horsey.
That said I'm an only child.

But we live on a three thousand acre farm, it was passed down from my dads dad.

We run beef cattle, sheep, the best mandarins in south west Australia and we have a small herd of about thirty dairy jerseys.

My parents have always had a thing for rescuing animals, I'd often go with them to the local shelters and we'd come home with a new cat, dog, cow, sheep, whatever was going.

I've taken horse riding lessons since I was four, but I'd never had my own horse.

Then four months ago in one of the local shelters I found a horse.

He was thin, so, so thin, his eyes were all sunken and he had a tatty rope halter around his head.
His coat was dull.

He was massive.
Absolutely huge.

And he didn't let anyone near him.

On the nameplate it said Loco

My parents were unsure.
But I talked them into it.

I spent two months working with him from the ground.

I put him on the best hard feed I could find and he began fattening up.
Slowly over the course of the first month I got closer and closer.
By the the end of the third week he'd come cantering across the paddock, stop about ten meters away and cautiously make his way over.

By the end of the first week in the second month he'd canter straight up.
He was still thin but getting better every day.

By half way through the third week of the second month he was looking great, he let me touch him all over, and then by the end of the week I could brush him.

But the end of the second month I could catch him, brush him all over and pick up all four feet.

I began searching for cheap tack.

I got myself an old wintec all purpose, and a kincade bridle.

I used old towels and began teaching him to be tacked up.

At first it was difficult.
But he was polite, he never kicked, bucked, reared or bit.

By the end of the third month I was able to get on.

We spent the first week of the fourth month walking around the paddock, then the whole farm.
On weekends I'd take him out for whole days, taking snacks and lunch and we'd just walk around the farm.