The Story of Prism

I have this horse, his name is Prism. He is a 10 year old registered Arabian gelding, dappled grey, very pretty. He was a stallion until he was 6 years old, so he has all the characteristics of a stallion. The nicely muscled body, gorgeous arched neck, all those physical characteristics that make a stallion so pretty. Unfortunately, he also has the mind set of s stallion. He is unpredictable, temperamental, moody. One minute he is as calm and loving as you could ever want, the next, those ears go back and he gets that evil glint in his eye and you wonder if he isn't a demon. Thankfully, those "demon" phases are few and far between.

But this is what happens when you cut a horse late. He becomes confused about his status. Prism happens to be in a pasture with four other horses, all female. HE thinks he is a herd stallion, the mares know different, but unless he annoys them, they allow him to keep his delusions. The mares all wink and let him keep on herding them, bunching them up, run behind them. Unless, of course, it comes down to something they REALLY want; like grain. OR he nips their flanks a BIT too hard. Then they let him have it, usually, right on the chin.

Thus Prism leads a mostly happy life. As long as he herds the mares where they want to go, bunches them up when they WANT to be bunched. They allow him to run behind them, knowing they are going where they want anyway. But Prism THINKS he is in control, and the mares, they just wink and go on living.

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