This afternoon when I got there, I called Bentley over to the fence for a treat. His owner came out and we chatted for quite awhile, so by the time I was ready to prep, the chore girl was serving supper. Bentley wanted to come into his stall to eat but didn't want to be caught. He'd come to me for a treat, but wouldn't let me halter him. Skipping any work today crossed my mind very briefly, but after yesterday's attitude, I decided today's battle of the wills was one I must win.
|Bentley in the neighboring paddock; cute lower lip|
I ended up shutting his pasture mates in their stalls, because Bentley thought maybe he could just go in and eat their dinners instead of dealing with me to get his; ha. Nope; the only way to get dinner was to cooperate with me, which he eventually agreed to. I tied him where he could reach his concentrates and started currying down one side. But when I went to the other side, I got pinned ears and other threatening body language. Uh, NO; not acceptable. I moved him away from his dinner, tied him much shorter, and showed him a dressage whip – never used it on him, just showed it to him and laid it on the floor – and he straightened right up.
By that point I'd burned a lot of daylight, so I just rode him around the arena at the walk for a bit, brushed him off, and left him to his supper so I could go home and fix ours. It will be interesting to see if the Bentley the Brat shows up again on Sunday, or if I've convinced him that that persona isn't going to work with me.