Oh the Adventures You will Have with an Icelandic Horse

In preparation for the pig sticking, I am twisting the lance so I can
hold it safely and not break a bone when I hit the pig.  By
Blessi's look of long suffering, you can also see me bop my
head--which I managed to do twice.

Traveling with Blessi is like going on a road trip with a zany comedian or a carload of intelligent children.   You never know what he is going to do. Last weekend during the tournament, Blessi did some of his typical Blessi actions.

On Friday, I had just moved Blessi into his stall and I was off loading additional gear.  A gentleman walked up and said he needed some horse urine or camel urine for a ceremony from his native country.  Now in SCA many people are familiar with uses of urine in the Middle Ages from softening leather to making dye to creating medicines.  Several of us agreed to try and help.  As we waited for Blessi, the man helped me with putting up stall decorations.  But it seems a watched gelding never drops and we could not help him out.

On Saturday, Blessi continued in his vikingr mode, by trying to steal things.  Lord Ivan who was sitting on Blessi on the track so I started a conversation with him.  As we conversed, Blessi reached over the fence and picked up a bright pink lance (why the bright pink one) in his mouth.  He really wanted that lance and I had to remove it carefully so I didn't have to sand out tooth marks for the lance owner.

A friend asked me if Blessi accosted women.  Puzzled, I shook my head and asked what did Blessi do.  "Oh, he put his head down my shirt and nuzzled my bra."  I had to explain that he has done that in the past and he seems to select only women that laugh at the behavior.  "He is fascinated with the bow on the bra," I explained as  the guys standing around admired to themselves what Blessi could get away with.

On Sunday, I was cleaning the stall when somebody walks by and asks if I had found a croissant.  I said no and asked why she expected a croissant in Blessi's bedding.  Earlier that day, she was walking down the barn aisle with some stale pastries to dispose of when Blessi reached over the stall door and helped her dispose of a croissant.  I am sure that he would have been happy to help even more.

One of the obstacles during the Sunday tournament was to ride your horse up to 20 feet of the dragonhead mounted on a 10 foot pole.  Given two rocks, you threw the rocks and attempted to knock the dragonhead off the pole.  When I missed my second try more widely than the first, Blessi gave out this big sigh, at which point the ground crew doubled over in laughter.

As I was getting ready to load Blessi into the trailer for the trip home, a truck stopped behind me and a lady popped out.  Her dog absolutely loved horses, whined every time he saw one at a distance, and could he meet my horse.   I said yes and she kissed my cheek in thanks.  Off she ran to get her dog, a cocker spaniel.  We agreed that she would hold the dog and introduce him to Blessi.  The spaniel realizing the size of Blessi's head was a bit subdued but within minutes the little dog was happily licking Blessi all over his face. Blessi accepted the adulation as his due.  After a few minutes, the owner and her dog returned to their truck and we resumed the loading process.   I don't know what her husband the driver thought of this process but I bet it made for an interesting conversation.

And these are just the adventures with Blessi from three days.  Just think what a lifetime of these adventures with an Icelandic horse are like.