Good Comes From Bad

ser ● en ● dip ● i ● ty |ˌserənˈdipitē|

noun

the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

Although I've seen horses get hurt and helped tend to the initial injuries, I had no prior experience in the maintenance of said wounds or the healing process. I do now.

I've been actually tying Daltrey, not just looping the rope, and he's done better than I would have expected.

I'm not a fan of messing with a yearling's hind legs in the first place, much less having to doctor a painful, injured one. At first, every time I touched it, that leg would snap up. If I tried to hold it up, he'd yank it away. I had to slow way down, talk to him softly, stroke his back, butt, and the leg to get him to stand still for me. Each day that I've had to redress the wound, he has quieted down a little sooner. And I think when he lifts the leg, he may just be responding to the pressure and giving it to me as if I were going to pick the hoof. He's better now about keeping it on the ground while I wrap it. Trust is being built. That said, I still stand as close as possible just in case. I ain't stupid.

I may have figured out what he injured himself on, if not the exact scenario of how it happened. I had noticed that the hay ring had been moved several feet, but assumed Mr. Fry had done it because the Boyz had eaten out the center of the bale, and it had collapsed. Then Mr. Fry said, "I keep forgetting to ask you if you moved the hay ring." Hell, I couldn't move that hay ring if my life depended on it. I'll bet Baby stepped inside to munch and got hung up on the way out.

We've had bad weather since the middle of last week, so there were no signs of a struggle on the ring other than the fact that it had been moved. That's gotta be it. He's no dummy; I bet he doesn't do that again.

I hesitate to use the word "bad" to describe our weather, since we got much-needed rain. We also got hail, tornado watches and warnings, but that's Spring in Texas for you. And look what I found when I went out to inspect the hay ring.

Easter Sunday 2011 goes down in the books as the day I fell in love with Daltrey. We were all outside and I had just redressed the wound for the second time that day because the bandage had slipped out of place. I turned him loose, but he followed me over to the family. I began to idly pet his head. He put his face onto my chest and seemed to want nothing more than to "breathe me in." He never opened his mouth at all, just breathed deeply. He went to sleep with his head cradled in my arms. How could you not fall hard for that?

I've said it before: It is an ill wind indeed that blows no good. Good things are happening in ways I could not have imagined or planned.