Due to retirement of one of our long term liveries we have one spot available.
We have Brugs available for lessons.
We have riders available for schooling horses including rider FEI Sophie Griffith.
Well, lick my salt lick and call me a silly gelding! There I was, just trotting along the beach, minding my own horsey business. As a highly trained competitor, I demand a certain level of decorum from my surroundings. Up ahead, I spied some suspicious green tendrils reaching out of the surf.
"Don't worry about that, Hells Bells," Tony, my ever-reassuring owner, called out. "It's just harmless seaweed, nothing to be spooked about."
The audacity! As if a world-class dressage gelding like myself would be unnerved by a little ocean flora. Still, against my better judgment, I plodded forward with elegant strides.
All of a sudden - SPLORT! POP! My hoof landed smack dab on one of those squirmy seaweed strands, and it exploded in a burst of slimy gases. "Neigh way!" I whinnied in very undressage-like surprise as bubbles and algae guts splattered up my legs. That stuff was like stepping on a wet balloon filled with swamp farts!
I did a little jig, shaking the clingy, popped ocean plant remnants off my hoof with as much poise as I could muster. But a long strand still hung on for dear life, swaying back and forth with each stomp. We were locked in an epic dance-off, me and Mr. Seaweed. Swing your tendrils to the left, now kick to the right, and a-one and a-two and a...hey, is that thing trying to trip me?
With one ill-timed twirl, that dastardly seaweed finally got its revenge. My hoof tangled right up in those green, grotesque noodles. "Whooooaa nelly!" I neighed, legs flying every which way in a most unhorse-like manner. The next thing I knew, I was sprawled right on my dressage horse hiney in the sand.
Tony went sailing off over my shoulders with a yelp, landing in an undignified heap. As I regained my composure, I noticed him wandering off down the beach a bit, likely embarrassed by his horse's unprofessional display.
Finally, after some fancy footwork reminiscent of my Grand Prix performances, I bucked that slimy ocean plant right off into the salty spray. Take that, you chlorophyll-filled beach rubbish! Hells Bells the belligerent but brilliant dressage gelding: 1, Popped Seaweed: 0.
As I trotted off proudly, holding my head high, I glimpsed Tony returning with a look of surprise on his face, as if he couldn't believe his elite equine partner had just battled with seaweed. What's so funny? I'll have you know seaweed popping fights are simply part of a dressage horse's resourceful training regimen. I gave my mane a sassy toss. That'll show those pesky plants not to ruffle this gelding's fetlocks.
With that out of the way I let Tony back on and off we trotted to the next adventure.
There are some hacks that Hellsy would like to share with you on his page.
Click the Horse icon in the menu and select Hells Bells.