Skills, people, skills. Practical skills.

I pulled into the barn just as he pulled up to the upper fence line in his ATV.  With a dog (do not bring your dog to someone else's farm), he crossed the fence (electric, or supposed to be), with a bucket, and started calling for the horses.  WTF.  I thought, I better go up there and see what this dude is about.  On my way, I called and found out that almost assuredly he was the rich "developer" who'd bought the adjoining property and completely, like I don't even know a term for it anymore but made a mockery out of expanding and redoing the house he'd bought.  He's about to do the same with the land it turns out.  SMH.  Anyway.

Oh, he'd be made fun of later for his "bravery" in entering a field with four horses in it with an entire bucket full of treats, but no one but me would tell him to his face this is a stupid thing to do.  And even I wouldn't use the term "stupid".  "The situation that you and I are in right now is one of the most dangerous positions one can put themselves in with horses," I said.  Eventually I said, "This horse will become downright aggressive if you keep doing that."

Here's what he said.  "Do you know my daughter?"  With further explanation of why I should know his daughter, which was because she'd shown, rather big time. BFD.  I really don't care.  I'm into horsemanship.  "My daughter, Blah blah blah."  Look mister, I don't care who your daughter is, or who you are for that matter, I'm trying to make sure you don't get killed.  When the electric fence popped a horse in an adjoining field whose curiosity had been aroused by his bucket of treats he said, "Wow, that's on?  It wasn't on yesterday."  Sigh.  Yes, the electric fence is on.  Except when it isn't but it not being on is not a good thing and hopefully never stays that way for long.

For a girl child born in the early 60s deep in the Appalachian coalfields, I had a very privileged upbringing.  I know what it is like for someone to hold that privilege against me.  I don't want to do that to this guy.  But he showed up a few weeks ago in a fucking Ferrari not believing that the guy who owned a couple hundred acres adjoining his could possibly live in this humble a house, so we'd already not started off well.  Ok, mostly I call him Mr. Ostentatious.  But this interaction, with the bucket and the horses in the field longing for me think he was ok in this situation because his daughter showed on the A circuit was something else again.

This interaction, with the bucket and the horses in the field insisting that I must know his daughter because she had shown horses and I should therefore infer that it was ok for him to be here in this field with this bucket and these horses was him wanting to be ok because of who he was and who he knew rather than for the skills he had. 

Anyone with any horse savvy at all would never put themselves in that position.

And a little horse savvy, a little animals savvy, is not rocket science.  Like a little electrical wiring and plumbing and basic auto repair isn't brain surgery.  Growing some food, it isn't rocket surgery.  Cleaning your own toilet, sorry but that is the beginning of morality.

Skills, people, skills.  Practical skills.