Tiki and the Weedeater

I've discovered there is a problem with bombproofing too much. Horses begin to lose their healthy respect for things that can hurt them. There's something to be said for flight instincts and common sense. Tiki, unfortunately, has neither. She is extremely trusting, almost to a fault. This is a wonderful trait when you're trying to get her to do something--"Here, Tiki, you really DO want to walk on this tarp!!" but isn't the greatest of attributes when trying to keep her unhurt and alive.....

Case in point:
Before the Tiki party in September, Joe, Kim, Anne-Marie and I were cleaning up around the farm like crazed landscapers. We weeded gardens, put away clutter in the barn, mowed, cleared off the back porch, the deck, and the addition. We had a trash company come in and haul away some of the leftovers from our deadbeat tenants who had moved out in March of this year and left behind large trash items. Tiki watched with interest as cars and large trucks paraded up and down the driveway. She observed us rushing around the farm with trash bags, tossing doors and trash off the deck, and Joe careening around front lawn mowing at 12 mph :-)

In the interest of neatness, I grabbed the weedwhacker and attacked the barn perimeter. I weedwhacked around the back and side of the barn, the back porch, the deck, and headed for the fenceline. In typical Tiki fashion, she saw me walking up the fenceline with a loud whining weedwhacker in hand and started inching towards me. Hoping to beat her curiosity, I started going faster down the fence. I would mow down a section, she would take a few more brave steps towards me, ears perked up and tail wagging like a dog.

By the time I got to the corner of the field, she was closing in fast, taking more steps across the field faster than I could trim with the string. She was now within 15 feet of me and I was imagining a stone being thrown and uncannily finding her eyeball. All of my mother's sage advice from my childhood about not running with scissors and all the various things that could mysteriously poke my eye out came flooding back to me. I could see it already--Tiki sporting an eye patch and me greeting the guests the next day: "Yes, this is the Tiki Party. You made it to the right place! The thing is, we decided to change it to a Pirate Party! Tiki---can you say 'ARRRRRRRR!?'"

It was obvious Tiki was not going to scram, even with my pitiful attempts to jump up and down with a running wheedwhacker in hand, scream over the din of the engine, and wave my remaining hand in the air like a maniac. She thought my antics were quite amusing and wanted to come up and tell me so! NOOOOOOOOOO Tiki! So, I sighed and walked away, weedwhacker idling, and found another lawn patch to attack instead. I guess I don't need to do any bombproofing training with lawn equipment any time soon.......