Boyoboy is still here, but sold for $425 to a real nice family from Centerville. The whole family came out in the rain to bond with the herd on Sunday. They are teachable, with dad being the weak link. So, who petted one of the elusive geldings first? Dad. Who fed one from his hand (They'd dodge a hand to go for the bucket...) Dad. It was cool.
The little girl turns 10 next week -- the 15th, and he's her birthday present. He is to have a new halter and a BOW. I'm just SURE he'll leave THAT on!
We were looking through the bars in the outside door to Debut's stall at Coqet and Boy. Of course, Debut came in, calm and quiet as the barn was empty again by then. All five of us were in that one corner. He came up, towering over the children, so I told him to take a walk. He did -- three steps. Then I put my hand above his foretop and told him "down" in the voice of command. He put his nose on the ground, then popped it back up. One child missed that, so I had to have him do it again. He used the occasion to creep closer. "Back" didn't work, this time, as he was being petted. I repeated, adding a poke in the chest.
He quickly returned, however, so I had the soon-to-be 10-year-old repeat it. She didn't push hard enough, so I showed her with pressure on her body, and then was right there ready to reinforce her power and authority if I needed to. He took three good steps back for her.
After nearly two hours of "horsing around", her dad asked, as everyone stood, muddy, cold and wet, if she thought she still liked horses.
Her answer? "Everything you've done just makes me like them MORE."
Good girl! I can work with that attitude. By the time they have a fence up, I'll probably have them ready for him, as well.
The entire auction and supper brought in $27,000 for Jack, and several items went for four hundred and up. Top seller was a huge painting of the record-holding buck for the state -- over $600 for it. But Shelley said having me donate that "high dollar" colt, and the publicity they milked it for, led to the other high dollar things being offered... And, he was only $75 off the mark, not a price debacle as I'd feared, and went to a "good" home, not one where he'd probably end up run through an auction or somesuch. Several of the hand-made quilts brought in several hundred each.
Most ridiculous item? A dozen of Darla's cinnamon rolls brought $200. It was not over until after 11 pm. The place was still packed even though the hour was late. (Our Harvest Home Church auctions are good "live theatre", also. "And what am I bid for a jar of Aunt Mabel's bread and butter pickles?" "$100.00, do I hear $2?" "$2, 2, 2, do I hear $2? YES. And I have $300 coming right back at you. Don't be shy. Don't sit on your hands. This is the last year anyone is likely to be able to buy a quart of Aunt Mabel's special canning. She's 88 now, you know, and might not be around next year. $350, Yes!" Or if the bidding lulls, he'll stop his sing-song and address the folks gathered. "I'm sure glad her husband Earl isn't still around to see what a paltry sum her canning is going for this year. Why, ever since 1945, they've brought at least $600 a quart, even in lean times.")
Right up until the auction started, people were bringing in more stuff. When the time to start the auction came, there was still a line of people left to eat that went clear over to the weight room (blocking off the street...You KNOW you live in a small town when people can stand in the street for over 30 minutes without disrupting traffic. When people came to get through, they'd have to roll down their window and be told what was going on, invited to join the group, and if they ABSOLUTELY had to go on, allowed to pass... Only one out-of-towner expressed displeasure at being so treated.) The free-will offering for the meal alone raised $7,000 of the total.
WOW! Ya'll missed a good 'un.