But It's a Dry Heat

Archive for the ‘Horses’ Category

Itty-Bitty Nazgul

Revisiting an old cartoon. The old version…

And the new version…

The original definitely has its charms. But what’s funny is that even though I thought my horse-drawing skills were good back then, they’ve definitely improved in the years that followed. And, a solid year of doing figure-drawing studies also improved my hobbit drawing ability.

I’m Alive

Rebooting and re-animating this site as a secondary (more like tertiary) place to post artwork. Though I continue to post stuff on social media, the constantly changing landscape of socials is pushing me back to also having a place with more permanence.

Honestly? I know no one likely to see this and that’s appealing as well. Posting to the void rather than chasing influence.

Anyhow, this horse was one of my earliest attempts to paint with Krita. Previously, I was using an old version of Photoshop to create digital art, but when that wouldn’t run on my new computer, I gave Krita a try.

The sequence of events actually consisted of me trying Corel Paintshop Pro, which was functional but not optimized for digital drawing and painting. Looking into free, open-source options, I came across Krita.

Initially, I found it a little frustrating because I was accustomed to Photoshop and to some extent Paintshop Pro.

Now? I love it and recommend it enthusiastically. It’s got all the functionality of most paid drawing and painting software, a terrific workflow and really great brushes and tools. Plus, there’s loads of help available online if you get stuck.

If you’d like to give it a try, here’s the main Krita site.

Horse Eats Hound

Yes, the vacuum is running.

And, no, the greyhound isn’t budging from his spot on the carpet.

In fact, his head is up is because he saw me with the camera and wondered what was going on.  In the absence of the camera, the end result would have been a roughly greyhound-shaped dirty spot on the carpet.

He also does this with the lawn mower, so he isn’t allowed outside when I’m cutting the grass.

On the other hand, he’s wary to wet-himself-afraid of nearly everything with a heartbeat. Even rabbits, yes rabbits.

Of course, Wonder Horse was quick to exploit the hound’s neurosis.

Once upon a time, before heading out for a mid-afternoon walk, the hound and I would stop by the barn to visit the horse. I’d bring along carrots for both critters. We’d meet the horse at the gate and there I’d give a carrot to the equine and one to the canine, then another to the equine, and so on.  The greyhound would eye the horse very warily, but tempted by the carrots, stay at my side.

Then one day, the horse, in one of his Professor Snottypants moods, banged his hoof on the metal gate, making a delightful racket. The hound leaped back, startled. At this point, you could see the wheels turning in the Wonder Horse’s brain. After a pause, he banged again. Dog leaped in the air, and strained on his leash, trying to get as far from the horse as possible. Horse smirked and banged again. And thus was the demise of carrot sharing at the gate.

To this day, when the horse sees the hound approaching, he lifts a foot, poised to start hammering on the gate. I have to drag the hound, his long legs braced and feet sliding through the sand, to get anywhere near the barn.

The hound, the predator, is deathly afraid of the horse, the prey animal.

War Horse

Alternate title for War Horse: Cursed Horse. Because nearly everyone who climbs on that animal’s back, gets dead.

War Horse, the movie, is epic. As in epic disappointment.

In a picturesque Devon, Albert Narracott (Jeremy Irvine) watches a horse grow from colt to horse in a neighbor’s field, wishing the horse could be his. He gets his shot at horse ownership when his drunken father, Ted (Peter Mullan), purchases that horse at an auction. As with most decisions made under the influence, it’s a poor choice, since the family needs a sturdy draft horse, not a Thoroughbred, to plow their rocky field. Albert’s mother, Rose (Emily Watson), is appalled, but Albert insists he’ll train Joey to do the necessary landscaping work. Looming in the background is the menacing landlord, Lyons (David Thewlis), who is eager to take the family farm if rent isn’t made.  Albert, who knows nothing about horses, trains Joey to come when he’s called, while Dad gets drunk and Mom makes excuses for his alcoholism.

The story moves to a predictable mini-climax where, against (more…)

The Curious Case of the Dead Lagomorph

Rewind, several years ago, on another hot summer day….

I get home from work and trudge out to the barn to visit the Wonder Horse. Heat is pouring down like scalding rain and splashing off the pavement and sand. A roadrunner sits on a fence pole, beak open, panting like a dog. Nothing else is moving, even the little gray lizards have gone to ground in the midday sun.

The Wonder Horse, tough Arabian horse of the desert, is under his shady porch. I hear the clomp of hooves on rubber stall mats as he stamps at flies. Seeing me, he whickers, leaves the shade and comes to the gate to greet me.

It’s too hot to do anything that expends more than a thimble-full of calories, so I grab the halter and a brush. Lovely, occasionally (more…)

My Little Pony Goes Crazy

The sign says it all.

Horses are big dangerous and destructive animals. Why girls go horse crazy is beyond me. (Ahem. There’s a joke in there about men…moving on….)

This is the Wonder Horse’s second liability sign. The first, made of plastic, was destroyed in a few weeks, reduced to a collection of white shards in the sand. The best he can manage with this metal version is to bend it. Metal, you see, makes the most delightful racket when struck with hooves. Especially, at two in the morning. Oy.

Friday morning: I’m fumbling with the faucet in the shower. Outside, a horse neighs, the sound coming through the skylight in the bathroom. The Wonder Horse has heard activity in Chez Kirby. “The two legs are up. Time to feed the horse.” He neighs again.

“You’re not the boss of me,” I mutter and get in the shower.

Forty minutes later, I’m out the door and headed for the paddock. A thick pall of dusty tan hangs in the air, sand kicked up by hooves. The Wonder Horse has worked himself up into a right lather. He sproinging around the paddock in that big bouncy deer-like trot that’s beauty in motion but is absolutely impossible to ride.

I go back in the house to get the camera and he shrieks equine obscenities at me. Back outside, I stop and take a picture of my loony horse. Recognizing the black thing and its significance–“she’s going to fiddle with the fucking thing and not feed me!”–he comes unglued.

He gallops back and forth, skidding to a stop at the gate, spraying sand in all directions. When that doesn’t work, he lets out a couple more angry neighs and throws a tantrum. He’s a whirling dervish,  leaping in the air, bucking and spinning. The long black tail lashes with a snap, he kicks a hind leg, and tosses his head. All this punctuated by rumbling horsy mutters and snorts.

Finally, I relent and head for the barn. Hooves clop angrily under the little porch; the metal feeders rattle as he shoves them with his nose. “Empty! Fix! Now!” I take my time, and he lets out a long, ratting snort. He’s like that really rude customer in a restaurant who expects the food to arrive the instant it’s ordered. Well, except that once the food arrives, he’s happy. He’d never, ever send it back.

I still, however, wouldn’t expect a tip.

Click images for larger version.

But It’s a Dry Heat

Dear Author, Don’t Make Me Smack You.

Several months ago I read a much-lauded book, the first in another long epic series where the author is taking a god’s age to finish the sequels. (Like I can talk. I’m still not done with the 80K sequel to The Music of Chaos.) Despite all its press, I found the novel overrated, but that’s not the point of this post.

In one small scene in the novel, the protagonist, while on horseback, shakes the horse’s reins to encourage it to move forward.

And then my head exploded, raining confetti all around the room.

This isn’t the first book I’ve read where the author mistakenly thought that riders shake the reins to signal “Go.” It may have been one (more…)

Clumsy and Insane; What’s Not to Love?

Ask any horse owner for the defining characteristics of equines and they’ll likely say “accident prone” and “frequently paranoid.”

The second is a function of the horse’s position on the food chain, herbivore, aka, a carnivore’s happy meal. While the average horse is as likely to be eaten by a lion as I am to win the lottery, most equines retain an instinctive wariness of anything that smacks of predator. In the modern setting this might mean a black trashbag or a small child dressed in a Halloween costume (horse eating gnome).

Non-horsey folks, having seen movie horses who gallop without hesitation toward gunfire, think horses arrive, out-of-the-box, brave and cooperative.  Horses are smart and can be trained (desensitized) to tolerate all manner of scary things. Hollywood horses, because they have to carry expensive commodities–actors–are particularly bomb proof. But even a horse who’s utterly unfazed by gunfire, might come unglued at the sight of your grandma and her purple hat with the peacock feathers.

Writers really should take note of this. If your fictional equines are calm, tractable beasts of burden, you’re missing out on a prime opportunity to torture your characters.

Horses are also (more…)

With Apologies to Thelwell

Last week my husband and I watched The Lord of the Rings movies, all three (extended versions), again.  When we got to part where Frodo is stabbed by the Nazgul on Weathertop, my husband wondered, “So if Elrond hadn’t healed him, would he have turned into a Nazgul?”

“Yeah,” I said. “An itty-bitty Nazgul.  On a Shetland pony.”

The idea immediately reminded me of the art of the great cartoonist, Norman Thelwell. Thelwell is famous for his illustrations and cartoons of children, usually little girls, and their ponies. His work captured the nature of the relationship perfectly.  Which is to say, in most of his drawings, the ponies are running amuck, their young riders hanging on for dear life.

Horsey folk already know this. Ponies are evil. Children aren’t given ponies because they, like their riders, are small. No, children learn to ride on ponies because the little mounts have a gift for teaching children that equines are living, breathing creatures with agendas all their own. Ponies delight in inflicting torture on their young riders, bucking, biting and scraping them off on low hanging tree limbs.

If the Witch King of Agmar really wanted to be a bad ass, he would’ve ridden a pissed-off Shetland pony. Against a Lilliputian equine, Eowyn and Merry wouldn’t have stood a chance. (Click cartoon for a larger version.)

Who Is That Masked Horse?

“STOP DIGGING!”

What my neighbors hear every morning from May to October.

Summer and Fall are the seasons of flies.  This year, thanks (sort of) to a short and very unusual span of below zero temperatures, the fly hordes didn’t show up until June. Once in full force, they get down to making life miserable for the Wonder Horse.

By and large, horses are well designed to deal with flying pests. Along with long swishing tails and manes, they do this cool thing where they wiggle the flies right off their skin. (I wish I could do that.) But the flies’ favorite place to hang out, beside steaming piles of shit, is in the corners of a horse’s eyes.

You know those sad little starving children in Africa? Too weak to brush away the flies that cluster around their eyes?  Horses are kind of like that. To flies, eyes are like an Evian drinking fountain.  After just a few hours of this, the Wonder Horse’s eyes turn red and start leaking puss. Nasty.

So every morning, before breakfast, he gets his fly mask.  He knows the routine and stands by the gate waiting for me to come out of the barn with the mask and a few treats. (The routine has also morphed into an annoying game where he grabs the masks and shakes it. He won’t let me put it on until he does this.  As with any bad habit, the fault lies with the stupid human who thought the stupid horse trick was cute. At first.)

While I’m in the barn getting the mask, Mr. Impatient starts to paw. With enthusiasm. An 1100-pound animal can dig a large hole in just a few seconds.  Locating that hole by the gate is paramount to setting a booby-trap for any unsuspecting human. It has the added bonus of catching and tipping over wheelbarrows full of horseshit.

So when he starts digging I run out of the barn and yell, “No digging.” He stops and bangs on the gate with his hooves (my little drummer pony). I go back in the barn. Digging begins anew. I come out, yell, and you can see the smug satisfaction on his long face. “I’ve got her trained.”

Trouble is, he’s right.