Weekend Getaway with Wild Horses

Recently, Darling and I traveled south for a couple days to visit our favorite ponies, the wild mustangs of the South Steens, bringing along my niece, Miss Banana Head.  Her Christmas gift this past year was a trip to Oregon with us, and it only took us six months to get it done.  Was it worth the wait?  You bet it was!

Miss Banana visits with a yearling at the Wild Horse Corrals

As is our custom, we left our home late in the day, traveling through the night, in the dark, across mountain passes from Northwest Washington  and down into Oregon.  By the time we hit Grass Valley, Oregon, the sky had the first hint of dawn's early light, and Darling took over the driving while I snored away in the passenger seat.  We pulled into the Wild Horse Corrals about mid morning, surprised to see the gate open since they're normally closed on weekends.  But lucky us, there was a special tour going on, so in we went, waved at some friends who work with the BLM, and made our way out back to investigate the horses.  Both Darling and Miss Banana made friends with a couple of curious yearling geldings.

Our stay at the corrals was brief...a happy, unexpected stop on Saturday morning.  We were back on the road within 30 minutes, heading to the Bell A ranch where the High Desert Cutters were holding one of their summer competitions.

Cutting is fun...but certainly better when you're riding a mustang!  Here is one of the BLM wranglers, who has both Quarter Horses and a handful of mustangs that she rides.  In this particular class, she's riding her 3 year old South Steens mustang, Junior, who is learning the basics this year.  Most of the horses in these classes are ranch horses, used every day to drive cattle, rope, drag calves to brandings, etc, so they're much taller than what we see at cuttings in my neck of the woods.  It always makes me giggle just a bit (inwardly, of course...!) when I hear folks talk about mustangs being small and scrawny.  Maybe they need to meet Junior?

Crystal Crane Hot Springs at dawn 

From the cutting, we made our way south toward Crane, Oregon.  This was a bit of a new direction for us, but I'd found a lovely little place to stay called Crystal Crane Hot Springs.  You rent a cabin, and if you're lucky you get the one with the little half bath or you're stuck using the community restroom.  We were lucky.

The hot springs had a naturally heated pool, which was 97 degrees the day we were there.  Oh...so warm!  We waded about in it before the mosquitoes came out in the evening, and I decided I need a hot spring in my backyard.  Do you think they sell them at Wally World?

The following morning we were up early, with an anxious Banana Head waiting to see what she'd traveled so many miles for.  Wild Horses!  

The Hollywood Herd

We spotted them up along a ridge, about a mile from the road.  The highway through the desert has extremely wide shoulders, making it quite easy to pull a vehicle off the road and park it, which is what we did.  We climbed over the fence that keeps horses from wandering onto the the highway and began our trek up the hill.

This particular group of mustangs are known as the Hollywood Herd, as they are typically hanging out not far from the road where people can see them.  Photographers visit frequently, and the horses are typically pretty content to just hang out, so long as the two legged intruders don't appear threatening.  The three of us didn't walk straight into the herd, but weaved back and forth, meandering a bit, casually approaching and trying to give the feeling of, "Oh, we're just out for a Sunday stroll.  Didn't see you there, how are you doing today?  Well, we'll just park ourselves over here and rest a bit, if you don't mind," so as not to alarm anyone.

Sox let's Cruiser know that Chenoa is off limits

We saw many faces familiar to us, introducing them to Miss Banana Head so that she, too, could know them.  I didn't get a solid count, but there were roughly 70 wild mustangs standing up there with us.  The South Steens has 130,000 acres set aside, and a recent fly over showed a count of 330 head of horses, not including this years foal crop.  By next fall, they will likely gather horses off this range again, placing many up for adoption.

Miss Banana gave Faith her name during this visit.

While many mustangs are put up for adoption, there are several who are left out in the wild.  For instance, Faith, the mare on the left.  We first saw her after the last gather in 2009.  She was at the wild horse corrals where she'd been kept over the course of the winter and following spring.  She'd foaled, a lovely colt that was marked just like her, and once he was weaned, she was returned to her mountain.  

New to the Hollywood Herd is Drifter, a striking palomino pinto stallion who'd been spotted earlier this year in the back country.  At some point, he began hanging about on the fringe of Ranger's band, slowly working his way into being accepted.  The Hollywood Herd is made up of several smaller bands, which change now and then, but mainly stay with the same core group.  Stallions, unlike what most of us imagine, allow other stallions into their band, but typically it's a senior stallion and a junior stallion, and no more than that.  Drifter is now Ranger's junior stallion, and as such, he has a job to do.  

At one point, Ranger and his band wandered down the hill a ways, but a sleeping colt was left behind.  When he woke up, he galloped and whinnied frantically, looking for his mother.  While his mother paid little heed, Drifter heard and recognized the voice of the colt.  From 1000 feet away, he stood and called to the colt.  When the colt finally realized where his band was, he started down the hill.  Drifter came charging up to gather him, pinning his ears in mock anger, scolding the colt for not paying attention.  All was good and safe this time, but a lagging colt could bring danger not only to himself, but the entire band, and Drifter wanted to make that clear.  I find it absolutely amazing how this horse stepped right up to the plate after being allowed to join up with the others.  If something ever happens to Ranger, Drifter will be right there to take care of his band.

Majesty, a lovely Silver Dapple in color, was put down due to severe injuries.

Two horses we missed seeing on the mountain this visit were Majesty, who suffered a fatal injury earlier this year.  He leaves behind a legacy of silver dapple offspring on the mountain.  Majesty had a second in command; One Eared Jack.  When we lost Majesty, the mares simply followed Jack, with little disruption to the band.

By stark contrast, Golden Boy had no other stallion with him.  Often found just outside of the Hollywood crowd, GB was a loner who kept to himself.  He had a colorful group of mares, and they were highly devoted to him.  While other stallions had skirmishes and lost or gained mares throughout the year, Golden Boy held fast to his mares since the last gather.  He was wise and cagey...but about the time of our visit, something had happened to him.  One of photographer friends had spotted him with an injury, and it didn't look good.

Golden Boy, as we last saw him in October 2011.  May he rest in peace.

She took video of the stallion, who was having trouble walking, and showed it to the folks at the BLM, who agreed that our lovely boy here was not only in severe pain, but likely would never recover.  By the time they located him again, he had his mares up against the rimrock, where he could more easily defend them.  Stallions, bachelors without their own mares for the most part, were swarming like sharks.  They knew the old stallion was fading, and they were going in for the kill.  One of those stallions was Blue, a scrappy roan who sparred frequently with other stallions, but never seemed to end up with any mares.  He went into the battle early, wearing down Golden Boy, making it easier for other stallions to strike.  What was amazing to Barbara was how the mares in GB's band were fighting off the unwanted advances of these outside stallions, as well.  

Not everything on the mountain is beautiful and peaceful.  We are so thankful that the BLM is willing to end the suffering of a horse in pain, rather than allow them to be torn to shreds until death.  Some folks may disagree...but in my mind, it is hardly debatable.  Had Golden Boy had a junior in command, the battling likely wouldn't have taken place, and who knows if it would have changed the outcome of Golden Boy's fate?  That is one thing we'll never know, but he certainly wouldn't have had to fend off the advances of others in his weakened state.  But that was the way he chose to live, and he fought a valiant fight until the end.

We knew that Golden Boy was missing during our trip, and that he was hurt, but most of what happened we didn't find out about until we returned home the following day.  For us, it was still a warm, sunny, and joyful trip, full of adventure and new babies, such as Zephyr!  Is this blue eyed baby not just the most beautiful thing you've seen?

Zephyr is out of a mare named Chinook.  

Sunday night put us back in Burns, quite ready to sleep after a long, successful day on the mountain with our wild ones.  Come Monday, we'd be on our way home, but not without a morning hay ride during feeding time at the Wild Horse Corrals.

 Sorrel two year old gelding could just be what I need.

(Yes, I said need!)

This is when I like to take a look at potential prospects.  (Shhhh...don't let City Boy read this part!)  I'm always, always, always looking for that horse that may just make the perfect mustang cutter, and these two super cute geldings really caught my eye!

This three year old hails from Coyote Lakes, same HMA as Tika.

From here, we were back on the road, ready for our 12 hour drive home.  A couple of stops along the way, first to eat ice cream cones in Shaniko, and then a quick tour of the Maryhill Museum.  It was a wonderful trip.  Hope you enjoyed it!

Sculpture at the Maryhill Museum, just above the Columbia River.

Artsy Video by Darling

You may find yourself needing to let this one load for a couple of minutes before watching. Darling has pulled up some old footage, plus added some recent clips, to create this video. Hope you enjoy!

the Spirameter

"Where have you been!?"

Okay, so...I hauled Kitty to a cutting where we rode in our first practice round on REAL LIVE COWS! Do you know the difference between riding at a cutting and just being there to watch? You take pictures of ant hills along the way, because during the cutting you're too worried about getting yelled at for not paying attention to what's happening. That's what the difference is!

One quick snap, that's all I got of my girl and the Cowboy while he was riding turnback.

Then it was time for the county fair, and I was hauling horses up to Lynden immediately upon getting home from the cutting on Saturday night.

We brought mustangs again for the public to go googlie eyed over.

Or perhaps it was the mustangs who went googlie eyed over the public?

Halfway through the week I had a brilliant plan.

"Mom, tell the truth. Your plan was less than brilliant."
"Hush your mouth, curler head girl. I'm telling this story!"

So anyway, I had this brilliant idea. I climbed on a fresh feeling mustang and went to ride in the great big empty arena and six am. It was a brilliant plan because that way when I landed at club dirt, no other horses were there to step on me. See? Brilliant! Shut up, Darling, no one asked you if I should have lunged the fresh feeling mustang before getting on him. No one at all.

Now...back to the story. Yes, I was sore, but I've been sore before and really, what can they do for a broken rib? So I went to the first aid people like a good girl once they opened (three hours later) and they gave me some ice and some advil and patted me on the head and told me it was good that I was wearing a helmet. Yes, my head was happy, but it sure didn't stop the smarting in the ribs. But it's fair week, and there's no whining, sniveling, complaining or crying during fair week...and I had four days left to go! So go I did. Just slowly.

Upon returning home, I decided to take the advice of everyone I know and walked into the walk in clinic.

Have you ever been to a walk in clinic? It's like the McDonalds of health care. "Would you like a CT Scan with that? Physical Therapy? How many Xrays can we take before you pass out?" I got the xrays, but declined on the rest, much to the angst of the doctor who reminded me of an anime cartoon. He did, however, talk me into a Spirameter.

A spirameter measures the air your lung takes in, and since one of my xrays showed that a lung of mine is refusing to move beneath those four broken ribs (oh, did I mention that?), they wanted to be sure I was exercising and forcing myself to take in more air.

On the spirameter are numbers which measure the units of air you're breathing in. First, you blow into that tube, then you breath as much air back into your lung as you can. For a person my age and height, I ought to be sucking in enough to make that blue disc at the bottom move up to the 2600 mark.

I made it go to 1500.

Okay, so I need to get cracking at this breathing thing if I'm ever going to have enough air in my lung to get back on and do some more cutting with Kitty. No question about it! Over the course of the weekend I've gotten myself breathing in to the 2000 mark, so I'm on my way.

As for the ribs, they're doing fine. I feel relatively little pain for the most part until I stand for too long or try to pick stuff up or move around more than I should. But other than that, I'm fine! Really! Or maybe it's the drugs...

Equine Herpes claims 2 Horses

My tennies were on my feet. My boots were put away. I'd finished riding Kitty and was helping the Cowboy with a few little things that he couldn't do alone before heading home.

He'd replaced a barn wall, but needed help lifting it up into place and making sure it was 'plumb'. While I was holding and he was nailing, the Doc wandered in to take a look at the progress. "You riding?" he asked me. "Already done," I replied, still holding the framework. The cowboy told me I ought to saddle one and ride with the Doc. I sighed an inward sigh...I really ought to head home, but at the same time, I sure didn't mind being told to saddle one up and ride!

Before I could say, 'maybe not today', the Cowboy continued with, "You can ride turnback while Doc works the buffalo."

YEEEEE HAAAAAW!

I have never worked a buffalo before, and only twice had Sandy and I had an opportunity to even trail a cow, so this was terribly exciting stuff! I quickly saddled up Doxee and got her warmed up.

Enter the buffalo. Just one. A young heifer trotted into the arena and looked around, wondering where her friends were, seeing only the two of us on our horses. Doc was at one end of the arena, I at the other. We were about 30' away from the buffalo, who was done looking and now trotting toward the wall, thinking she'd slip around behind the Doc and head back to the gate. No such luck, as Rose blocked her exit. While Rose kept the buffie from making it to the gate, Doxee and I followed back and forth at our end, making sure she didn't suddenly turn and run the opposite direction. I also had the task of moving toward her hip in an effort to get some added forward motion should she stop too long and not move, but if I did that I needed to be quick to get back to my 'spot' so that she couldn't run past me.

I had an absolute blast! I want me some buffalo... Perhaps next time I can sweet talk the Cowboy into letting me work the buffies with Kitty?

In other somewhat distressing news, there is an outbreak of equine herpes on the west coast. The Cowboy has quarantined his barn for the next few weeks in an effort to keep everyone healthy. The outbreak involved some horses who'd been at the National Cutting Horse Associations Western Nationals last week. Two horses have died (one in CA, one in CO), and many competitors had already left without knowing their horses may have been infected with the virus. There is no vaccination for this strain, unfortunately. If you're on the west coast, I'd highly recommend not traveling and consulting your veterinarian as to the potential dangers. Even though we're in WA, quite a distance away, we know several people who were there with horses, and it makes no sense to risk leaving the barn right now when it is so highly contagious.

Cuttin' Loose!

Yesterday Darling and I climbed into the truck, along with Tucker, at 4 am. We picked up the Cowboy and the Doc, along with their horses, and hauled on down to the first cutting of the season for the Cuttin' Loose Club.

The Doc and The Cowboy

The Doc is 85 years old, and owns Darling's favorite cutting horse, Rosanna Montana. Rose and the Doc have been together for a few years now, and she knows her job. Stop That Cow!

Rose worked nearly perfectly for The Doc on Saturday, marking a 72 and giving him second place. Everyone cheers for The Doc...woo hoo's all around. Good ride, they tell him.

The Doc is congratulated by The Cowboy's Daughter.

The Cowboy had ridden Doxee as a turnback horse, one who stands in the corner and makes sure the cow in question stays where the competitor can work it well, inside the 'playing field' so to speak. Sometimes cows want to escape. Fancy that? The 'cutter' cuts a cow from the herd and then his horse works to stay between the cow and the herd. The rider keeps his hand down on the neck of his horse, giving it no help (ideally), as the horse works back and forth to keep the cow separated.

Doxee is the horse The Cowboy goes to when he wants one to work turn back, and she loves her job. A good turn back horse with a skilled rider can truly make or break a ride in some situations, and on this day, Doxee and The Cowboy did their job well, putting a smile on The Doc's face and a check in his pocket.

Loading Up...Heading Out

Today we load up and head to the fair for a week. Not sure I'll be seeing much of you between now and then...sort of depends on if I can find some sort of internet service while we're away.

Away is camping in my folks' motorhome up at the fairgrounds. Ahhhh....what would I do without my parents' love of traveling? Darling and I will stay up there all week, have our own private shower and bathroom, and not have to battle the crowds, or make the 40 minute (one way) drive home each night.

Yesterday Darling and I took a break from fairs and drove south to Yelm where we watched the Cuttin Loose Club's cutting event. Snapped a few (okay, over 1300!) photos. Heck, there are so many I haven't even looked at them all yet, and my camera battery died while trying to upload them. I know...crazy!

Naturally, anything with Curt has to make the blog! Loved how this one looks, don't you?

This guy always had a most pleasant look on his face while he road. I've got one where he's got a big ol' grin going, too!

Okay, I don't know who this cowgirl was? But I LOVE her boots! I mean, love, love, love them! I think I need a pair. I know I just got some boots earlier this year, but I'm certain I need red ones. Absolutely. I suspect one can't cut without red boots. I'm pretty sure it's a rule. City Boy??

That's all for now, peeps. Gotta get things done and get gone!

It's Complicated...

"You're a great warhorse, Sandy...believe in yourself!"

Had you asked me last week, after my trail ride with the Girls, or the lesson down at Curt's, that this week I'd have sold Sandy, I'd have laughed at you. Truly. Laughed. Out. Loud.

I don't know what made me post to my facebook profile: "Considering selling my boy" that evening. No clue. Just did it, with a heavy, downtrodden heart. A lack of space to do what I want...what I need...to do. My goal all along has been to transform hearts, not only of mustangs, but of the people who see them as worthless. Be honest with me. How many of you would have ever considered a mustang as a horse of value until you met Sandy and the others here?

Sky Bar's Chance, the pretty pinto

Last year, Val and her husband Dave stopped by to look at Sky Bar, the pinto gelding that I'd recently brought home from the corrals. Nice...but not what they needed. Dave was looking for a nice, mellow gelding to ride, and of course Sky Bar had yet to be started under saddle. Val's parting words had been, "If you ever decide to sell Sandy..." I think I laughed.

The moment I posted, the inquiries began. Selling Sandy? Really? Tell us more! Such an eruption of emails and messages...I'd never expected it. Sure, he's a great horse. A terrific horse! But I really hadn't anticipated such a quick response. I'd thought I'd have a few days to think it out...prepare myself...change my mind...

Darling and Sandy looking out over Lake Whatcom

After all, Sandy had been here through thick and thin. He'd gotten me over fears I didn't know I had. He taught Darling to ride. And transformed hearts...not just of those who'd thought mustangs couldn't accomplish what he had, but hearts of my young autistic friend, John, who over came his fears and reached out and touched Sandy when he met us out on the trail.

What the he!! had I been thinking?

It was 5:00...Val and Dave were due, but not here. Changed their minds! Yes? No. Just five minutes late. They were all smiles when they arrived. Val had seen my post on facebook, and I seriously don't think it had taken more than two minutes before she was writing to me. Anyone else? I'd have put off. But here was Val, telling me Dave was still, a full year later, looking for that perfect gelding.
We walked out into the pasture together. Sandy looked at us out of the corner of his eye. He'd just returned from over 2 hours of dragging that yellow colt around the trails, yet aside from that sideways look, he didn't give any indication of not being willing to go back to work.

The view from between brown ears; Sandy's first ride up above the valley.

I saddled my boy up as we chatted about his strengths and weaknesses. Dave is a farrier...a good hand on the ground, and a great admirer of Sandy's feet. I climbed on, rode a couple of small circles in the driveway, then offered to let Dave climb on board. His hands were soft and light, Sandy's nose was tucked into a horizontal position, and they walked and jogged back and forth. "He's so responsive," Dave said with admiration. Yes...yes, he is.
My mind had been racing since setting up this appointment. I had a cutting clinic coming up in September...followed by our first competition. It's what I'd been working toward, showing the cutting horse people that my little mustang could hold his own. But if he was sold? I pushed the thought from my head. If I was ever going to sell Sandy, this was the couple I wanted to have him. Hands down. They're thoughtful, understanding, and appreciative of the work I have into my boy.
So many people backed down the moment I told them the price I'd set. "I'm not asking a poor economy, half broke grade horse price," I told a couple of them. "You may be looking for a trail horse, but Sandy has training beyond that. Don't let his lack of pedigree fool you." That changed a lot of minds. There were honestly only two people I'd have considered letting Sandy go with...Val & Dave, or Canadian Cowgirl (yes, she did contact me!)

Sandy balking as Jay attempted to lead him into Curt's round pen in 2008.

Still...I found I was asking myself, "Did I really accomplish what I needed to with Sandy? He could go further...if I wanted to."

"We never really would have considered a mustang if we hadn't seen you with Sandy," Val was saying. Well...that answers that question then, doesn't it? Mission accomplished. Perhaps not my personal goals for glory in the cutting arena, but certainly Sandy had changed minds across the globe, as well as here close to home.

"We'd love to leave him with you until the clinic in September...if you wanted us to."

Really?

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance...

There is a purpose to everything in God's world...and a season. As difficult as it is for me to say goodbye, I believe my season with Sandy has come to an end, and I can't think of a better family to send him to...where he can be loved and appreciated just as much as he is here. It doesn't matter to Sandy if he's cutting cows, though Dave said it may be fun to learn how to do some sorting or team penning, and Sandy would certainly be good at it. Most important to both Sandy & I is that he's cared for and loved, which he will be with Val & Dave. Plus...they're close, and I can see him when I need a fix. And they're leaving him with me for the summer...I'll have a few more weeks to love on my boy and prepare my heart to say goodbye.

And maybe? Maybe kick some quarter horse butt at the cutting in September!

Another Lesson Learned

I'm sitting here waiting MOST impatiently for my video to upload.



Why is it taking so long?



I swear it was quicker to drive down, ride, and come home that it is to load that video!
Which leaves me with even more time to ask myself...

Why did I invite other people to come down with me when I ride?
Their horses are starting to look better than mine!

Take, for instance, Bess. This was her first time working the bull, and her horse was stopping and turning on it's own, I swear!

And I've got to say this was the biggest lesson learned this past week...

Don't invite your friends. They may show you up!

I thought maybe I'd make myself look a little better in video. But then YT disabled my music. I looked better when my ears were distracted by Dwight Yokum. Sigh...such is life!

Ladies Glisten

This past weekend Darling and I headed southeast a bit to a cutting held in Sunnyside, WA. It was the Big Bang cutting, a benefit for one of their members who's stage 4 throat cancer. I recently got Curt a sponsorship with Equiscience, and they also offered to donate several bags not only as prizes to the cutters, but 10 more bags to the auction. Great folks there at Elenbaas!

The weather was absolutely fantastic...a little warm compared to what we're used to here, but bright and sunny and...oh, heck, it was so blistering hot we were miserable! Darling went outside to photograph, but I stuck to the indoors. I've been told that ladies don't sweat...we glisten! Well, I tell you what, while I was outside I did so much glistening my face was dripping! Indoors, folks...indoors is where I spent my time.

Now, listen to me here. I'd like to shed a couple pounds, and I believe I did over the weekend, simply through all my glistening. But now, here's the problem. I don't know if you know this about me, but I have narrow hips. Nearly non-existent. But muffin top? I've plenty of muffin to share. Did I lose weight where I needed to? No. No, I did not. And do you know what happens when one loses weight on already narrow hips?

I'll tell you what happens. One's pants begin to slip off. And this is not a good thing! Polite society expects you to wear pants. Or at least dresses, of which I own but one and it simply would not do to wear it to a cutting. Unless you're Darling, who wore an adorable little yellow skirt along with MY cowboy boots (they matched better!) I can't believe I came home without a photo of her! That's what happens when you're glistening so hard.

Despite the fact that I was glistening hard enough to cause droplets to appear on the end of my nose (which I'm sure made a terrific impression), we did manage to have a good time, and came away with some fun photos of the folks there cutting cows.

And, of course, a few rail birds!

Mah Baby's Got Cow!

Just another day in a dusty arena...chasing some fiberglass bull back and forth in the dark!

Thanks to Darling, who is finally out of school, I was able to get some still shots of Sandy as he dropped himself down to get after the cow. I know...y'all are looking and going, "Huh?", but to me? It's nearly pee your pants exciting. (I know...dork. Yes, I am.)

The End...

Sucker's Got COW

Moo!

Sandy & I hauled to Curt's this morning for a lesson. Darling still hasn't edited the lesson footage from last week, so I have nothing to show for our hard work, but this is what Curt had to say after our lesson today:

"Sucker's Got Cow!"

And this, for those of you who don't know, is a good thing! I've been watching others ride their horses and was beginning to wonder if it would ever be like that for Sandy & I, or if this was just a fun way to spend some time. After all, I do love spending time with Curt as he teases and jokes and strokes my horse riding ego. He seems to enjoy watching my mustangs come along, but there's always been that little part of me that thinks he's only humoring me. But not today. Today was good. Very, very good.

Sandy's stops are stronger and his turns crisper at the right end than the left. This is normal. It's like being able to write your name better with one hand than the other. One side is stronger. And by end, if you've watched any of the former videos you'll see what I mean. The bull works back and forth, teaching the horse to stop hard and drop their butt into the ground, turning a hard 180 and moving off in the other direction.

The goal with cutting is to be able to walk into your herd quietly and not scatter the cattle. Then you want to push one calf out while the others stay behind you. That's the cut, and where the term 'cutting' comes from. Then your horse stays between the calf and the herd. As the calf dashes and darts back and forth in an attempt to rejoin his buddies, your horse has to be able to 'read' it and turn head to head with it, preventing it from returning.

The hydra bull becomes an excellent tool with which to do this because the driver is able to work the horse at their own skill level. Not too fast, not too slow. You can work on your turns and stops and not have to worry about a calf dashing off faster than your horse is able to handle it. And the better your horse becomes at reading the calf, the less you need to do while in the saddle. When competing, the rider helps guide the horse while selecting the calf, and that's it. You then drop your hand down and let the horse do the work. Left, stop, right, stop, left, stop and so on.

Today, Sandy's turns to the right were strong enough that I was able to drop my reins at that end and let him stop and turn on his own. It was fantastic! And to hear that Old Man Storbakken thinks he's got cow? Priceless!

In other news, Curt recently sold Pepenary. I stopped in yesterday morning to wish him a Happy Birthday and he asked me to hop and and ride her a few minutes. They'll be picking her up later this week. So it was my last ride on the little 14 hand dynamo before she goes to a boy who's around 8 or 9. She'll still be working cows and should do real well for him. No new footage for her, either, but here's a video from a couple months ago. You may have already seen it, but hey, watch it again! And if you're new here to the Diaries, enjoy!

Someone Please Pass the Velcro

Back in the day...you, know, when I was younger...I had a velcro butt. And that was before Velcro was even born. Or super glue, for that matter. I stuck like glue onto the back of a horse. Even went sailing over 3' plus jumps out in the trees (I knew they were, because I measured so I could have bragging rights!) But now? Today? Oh dear...where did that seat of mine go?

I am, however, determined to get it back, so after a brief ride in the arena, Sandy and I pulled off the saddle and headed for the round pen where I learned once again how to balance on a horse. Darling was, of course, on hand to offer all sorts of remarks on my skills...and she didn't hold anything back, either! "Gee, you look like Mommy Long Legs" she said with a giggle. And then went on with her instructive criticism, which I'd share with you except as a mother it is my duty to tune out my children, and I did just that. So I really have no clue what she said...shhh...don't tell her!

Along with bareback shenanigans, Sandy and I are back down at Curt's where we're continuing our lessons on the bull. Curt loaned me a new bit; a short shank, twisted wire with a dog bone in the middle doosie and I have no clue what it's called, but it worked really well. He'd been blowing past his stop at the end, but this bit gave just enough leverage and our ends looked much better. Once he had the stop down, his turns got prettier, too!

Sandy works Cows and the Color Red

Sunday Stills assignment this week is Red

I went to an Introduction to Cattle Clinic this weekend. My original plan had been to bring Steve Holt!, but as he's still on the mend, Sandy was the mustang who climbed into the trailer and headed down the road bright and early yesterday morning. While he's seen cows as well as buffalo on the other side of the fence while living at Curt's last year, he's not ever been asked to drive, sort, push or cut a living, breathing bovine until yesterday.

(The gal who took video for me bumped a button which set the camera to manual focus...something I didn't realize until I returned home...so please excuse the fuzzy photos! I used Darling's camera because of the video feature but have no clue how to use it.)

Red Calf

Most of the horses there were pretty green on cattle, so it took some of them awhile to get their horses into the herd. Our first objective had been to just walk our horse into the middle, then turn left or right, or whatever felt good so long as we didn't scare them and scatter cattle around the arena. Sandy marched right into the center like he'd been born doing this. If a cow didn't move the way he expected it should, he'd pin his ears and shake his head towards it. At one point he indicated he may have a steak for lunch...raw, please, with it's hide still on.

One of the participants was sporting this jacket... me thinks she may have done this before!

Once everyone had a chance to get their horse quietly in and out of the herd, the cattle were moved back behind a panel and one left out in the arena for us to 'trail'. This was an exercise in getting our horses to learn to want to follow the cow. Not a problem for Sandy, and in fact after watching him move through the herd our instructor made sure we had a fresher cow to push around, and Sandy was happy to oblige.

Mind you...we really had no clue what all we were to be doing here in this video, and Sandy was concerned about the panels at the end as they were covered with plastic and the wind was blowing. He really thought it best to just leave the calf at that point rather than risk being eaten by plastic. But over all I was happy with the fact that he showed expression and interest.