A few days ago I wrote about Bullion, the old man that lives on our younger daughter's homestead.The photo above is not Bullion. It's one that I found on TheChive a few years ago when I was doing jigsaw puzzles on my computer. It is, however, what I think Bullion thinks of himself. Sadly, I can only find one photo of him on my phone and laptop.
About 4 years ago, one of our daughter's friends, Brandy, contacted her and said that she had a couple of ponies that she'd like to give to her. The girl was a horse trainer and would often rescue equines of various breeds and species. I think that Brandy said that both of the ponies had been owned by a travelling carnival. She said that Bullion was about 25. I don't recall about the other one.
Ok. Not a problem. There was plenty of land. We already had one pen put up. We just needed to build a shed so he could get in out of the rain.
The day came for the ponies to arrive but there was only one. Apparently Bullion had kicked the other pony and broken her leg. This was our first glimpse into his mind.
We were leery of him for the first two or three weeks then came to realize that the only time that he was aggressive was feeding time. I have no clue how many times that he kicked, bit or stomped the goats. I had no real sympathy for them as they were incredibly annoying and would press up against him just because they could. The chickens would steal sweet feed from his bucket and run before he could lash out. The turkeys and guineas were less brazen in their attempts. They would wait until he was done then clean up whatever he strewed around.
If it were not feeding time, he was a great animal. He'd stand there and let you groom him for a while then just up and leave whenever he'd had enough attention. It was no problem to put a blanket or saddle on him. Leading him was no problem.
We never put a bridle on him. We'd just tie a rope onto his halter and lead him down the trail. The girls weren't old enough to steer him anyway and the older granddaughter wasn't tall enough for her feet to reach the stirrups of the children's saddle.
The jaunts which we went on were always fairly short. The property was about 15 acres and the trail was around half of that. He walked slowly and patiently. He was never in a hurry unless you were calling him to feed up. Then he would just trot back to the lot. I never saw him gallop.
Our daughter moved about two hours away so I don't get to see him very often. He did have one friend - a sheep named Two Moons. Sadly, our daughter said that Two Moons disappeared last week. Something or someone may have gotten him. Or perhaps he's just on the lam.
