Cob Jockey

I need to rename this blog's subtitle from "Eventing the Welsh Cob" to "Staying One Step Ahead of the Welsh Cob."  Some weeks I'm convinced that managing him is harder than riding him - like when I come to the barn to do chores on a Saturday morning, only to find that he was not where he was supposed to be, which is inside his new paddock with his Andalusian girlfriend.  See my not-to-scale and fairly inaccurate diagram below:

His new paddock was originally designed for studs, so the black perimeter line represents white wooden board fence, and the orange represents three-strand electric that is tape for the top row and braided cord for the bottom two.  There's a 3 strand gate, as well as a pipe gate, separating him from the outside world.

For some reason, his electric was unplugged last night, so he thought it would be a good idea to go for the dark green, luscious grass in the "no man's land" area between his paddock and his next door neighbor's pasture by going over the middle rope and below the top tape.  So when I got there, I found him trapped in a 5 foot by 20 foot area, unable to get back out the way he came, and barely able to turn around.  Awesome.  He probably spent most of the night there, if I had to guess.  Thankfully, there's a pipe gate just to the left of the words "Where Connor was this morning" in the diagram, so I didn't have to cut fence to get him out.

After that incident, I put him in jail until I could confer with my trainer on what to do with him - "jail" being the teeny tiny paddock next to the indoor arena that's almost never used.  So he did what most people do when put in jail:

Sleep.

 Ponies are sneaky.