It Didn't Stop There!

Sandy with Allison Trimble, and myself on Oz.
Photo Courtesy Valarie Richey 

"Hey, wanna ride?"

"Uh, yeah!  But Darling won't be here and I'd like to make sure we've got someone to ride Sandy so Oz can follow."

"No problem, I'll find someone!"

Before long, Valarie, Allison and myself were heading up to the trail head.  I had my big cowgirl panties on and was planning on riding Oz on his first official ride.  Weeee!!!!!!!!!

Sandy had ponied Oz on this trail two weeks ago today.  Oz tried his best to walk as close as he could to Sandy, nearly pushing us off the trail a couple of times.  He was nervous and it came out in typical youngster fashion as he nibbled on Sandy's saddle blanket, nipped his shoulder, and when he had the chance, grabbing at the reins and trying to lead us off.

Being steady as Sandy is, I was comfortable riding Oz just so long as that steadfast bay was right in front of us.  And things went pretty well.  Yes, Oz was fidgety.  He was tense.  He tried trotting when we first started, but was easily pulled back.  He managed to negotiate the downhills relatively well, though his head was always tucked and low.  

After the first couple of hills, Oz settled into a nice walk, and even managed to pick his way carefully over a steep hill that had an exposed rock face at the top.  We made it down a muddy hill and across a wooden bridge.  Once out of the woods and into the clearing, he walked up alongside Sandy, but didn't try to pick his own way, rather just walked alongside, borrowing confidence from the older mustang.

And while his attitude was positive, there was still that underlying feeling that he was holding his breath...at least halfway.  Always tense and waiting for the unexpected.  

Oz makes his way gingerly into the water, fearful of being swept downstream.

Photo courtesy Valarie Richey

When we got to the creek, he was totally unsure that it was in his best interest to cross.  Sandy went first.  Two weeks ago, Oz jumped it while being ponied.  I half expected him to try it again, but instead he simply refused, backing away, doing tiny half hearted rears, turning and trying anything he could to avoid getting his pretty white toes wet.  It took a few minutes, but when Sandy walked back into the water, Oz finally decided he'd give it a try.  Amazingly enough, the water didn't sweep him downstream, and we managed to make it back to the trailer in one piece. 

We came home and Oz went out into a grassy paddock.  I came inside and was happy to see that my riding buddies already had photos up on facebook.  While I used to pack my camera on all my trail rides, I felt it was a bit big and cumbersome when riding such a greenie as Oz, and I've not got one of those new fangled 'smart' phones.  I felt pretty good about our ride, but now I was itching for more.  I couldn't stand it, I had to go back outside and saddle him up again!

Oz is always nervous out behind the house.  Darling's former jump course has been transformed into a trail course, but Oz struggles to get beyond the step down log.  He's very insecure, and wants his herd, so a small loop around the trees and back up to the barn is about all we manage to get done (mostly because there's never anyone around to realize I'm down in the dirt should he happen to uncork!)  

Today was no exception.  Though the earlier ride may have burned off a little bit of his apprehensiveness, he was still on edge.  I rode a couple circles up near the barn, then headed out behind the house.  I didn't even recognize that he had a 'do not cross this line' spot picked out in his mind.  Just stepped right on past it!  He wasn't sure what to do.  I rode an extra five feet and then turned back to safety.  He breathed a sigh of relief and carried me up over the log and back to the barn.

Now, Oz was quite content with leaving, but the fact of the matter is, it was my choice, and we'd gone past the point where he was comfortable before turning back.  So another circle up near the barn, and back down the path we went.  This time, we went a little further.  Oz had a panic attack.  He tried to stop.  He rocked back over his hocks just a bit.  But I urged him to take a few extra steps, and then we again turned and went back to where he was comfortable.

We did this two or three times, taking in an extra ten feet on each trip, or turning a different direction, or crossing a log rather than stepping around it.  Oz began to focus on where we were walking, knowing that he'd head back to the barn.

And then it happened.  Rather than turning from the barn back down the same trail, I headed straight back to the creek.  Oz put up his ears.  He was curious, and didn't hesitate to head down the new path.  His step was relaxed and light.  We turned a corner and walked back onto the trail that went behind the house.  No hesitation.  No tense body.  Ears up, easy steps.  We stepped down over the log, crossed a couple more, walked over the bridge that's sitting out among the trees.  I tried to get him to cross some mud, but he sank a few inches, so we backed up and turned around and went somewhere else.

Oz didn't bat an eye.  We walked past the old dog kennel where the ducks and turkeys had lived the past couple of years.  Robins were flitting in and out, and he did a double take, but continued on.  He began searching out pathways to explore in his big backyard.  I was wishing the backyard were bigger!  Finally, Oz wasn't worried about trying to protect himself, and allowing me to simply drop the reins and trust that I wasn't going to send him into some place scary where he'd need to use his fight or flight instincts.

It was, in a word, glorious.  A huge weight slid from both of our shoulders this afternoon, and we're both a little more prepared to conquer the world!

Apparently...

I put Oz back to work after getting his 'I dunno' results from the vet.  He coughed twice...then worked for half an hour with nothing.  Then again last night, hauling him to the arena.  One measly cough.  Seriously, Oz?  What the heck?  Not coughing is nearly as aggravating as having a cough that you don't know where it's coming from.  Apparently, all I needed to do to 'cure' him was stuff his nose in a glove and try to suffocate him.  Who knew?  

Darling and I made our way up to the Reined Cowhorse Show yesterday where I snapped a few photos of friends (and strangers) who were competing.  Wonder if any of my mustangs would be well suited for this event?  The object of the game is to perform an easy pattern showing your horse is able to do lead changes in both directions, a couple of stops and back up.  This is called the 'dry work'.  

Dry work is followed by the cow being turned into the arena with you.  This is when it gets tricky, because the cow hasn't read the rule book.

First, you work your cow off the back wall, which is the end of the arena where the cow just came through the gate.  You want to show that your horse can 'box' the cow, or keep it contained in a smaller area.  This is similar to cutting, though you've not got a herd behind you.

Then you allow the cow to move up along the long side of the arena, as though it's making a get away.  Now your horse is tested on how well it can rate the calf, move ahead of it and turn it back the other direction.  You want to get a couple good turns in each direction to show how well your horse can handle it.

Once you've made those hard, fast turns, you drive your cow out into the arena and show how your horse is able to direct the cow by circling it.  You want to circle both directions, which can be tricky as those little suckers can move pretty quick when they want to!  A nice, pretty circle will get you more points than something that is, say, egg shaped, or free form.

 Once you've circled to the right, you allow the cow to move just slightly ahead of your horse, and you then move to the cow's opposite side, and circle to the left.  

 This is all done at what is often times similar to a hand gallop.  Or, in other words, break neck speed.  As previously stated, the cows don't read the rules and have no clue that there is any sort of pattern involved.  Sometimes, they turn the wrong way and dive under the horse, causing great accidents to happen.  Thankfully, we didn't witness anything like that yesterday.

Darling had thought this may be a fun sport until we sat and watched.  Then?  "Those people are crazy, mom.  Just crazy.  I mean, I do crazy stuff, but that's CRAZY!"

Guess I won't need to worry if my mustangs can do it or not!

Hope y'all have a happy Sunday!

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Got brave and hopped on bareback!

Another day of sunshine and lollipops!  Minus the lollipops.

Oz has developed a little cough the past couple of weeks.  It's annoying.  Each time we start to trot, he coughs.  I hate when that happens, because I'm afraid that if I'm riding with others, they'll worry that he's contagious.  I'd taken his temp, but it was normal.  I'd soaked his hay, but he still coughed.  It was only with exertion, like when we trotted, or when I ponied him on the trail and we climbed a hill.  So I wasn't terribly worried...but since it hadn't gone away, and since I've got 3 weeks until game time, I opted to have it checked out.

The heart sounded good.  The lungs sounded fine.  Nothing at all in the trachea.  And again, no temp.  Eyes were clear, as was his nose.  So nothing viral, said the vet, and no one need worry about catching the creeping crud.  At this point, he pulled out a long glove, one that is intended for use when a hand goes up the end of a horse that one's hand should never travel into.  Oz, of course, had no clue. And this time, the glove was for the front end, anyway.  A knot was tied where the wrist would normally be, and the opening slipped over Oz's muzzle.  It was left there for a couple of minutes, just long enough for Oz to become uncomfortable breathing, at which point the 'bag' was pulled off and the vet's stethoscope placed onto his side.  Oz gave a hefty cough, induced by the bag.  The vet listened to see if he could hear anything in his lungs.  Nothing.  A second time of breathing into the makeshift bag, a second time listening, and again, nothing.

The needle came out and blood was drawn.

Then we went outside for a quick trot around to show the good doctor what we'd been experiencing, and true to history, Oz coughed.  We turned and trotted the other direction, and this time a little chunk of what looked like chewed grass or hay came shooting out when he coughed.

The vet suggested we wait for the lab to check the bloodwork, and then, if nothing showed up, we'd make a plan.

What showed up was...well...nearly nothing.  A wee bit of inflammation, I was told, but nothing terribly bad. So I was told to return to exercise and see if whatever it was would work it's way out in the next few days.  Then, if he didn't get better on his own,  we'd put him on banamine for a few days and see if that helped the cough.

The past few days I've not done anything other than walk a few circles, but after the phone call I went right out and saddled up.  We had a good, solid workout, and yes, he coughed a couple of times, but it wasn't bad, and I didn't let it stop us.  I'm anxious to get things back on the road.  Or, in this case, the trail!  

Sandy and I ponying Oz down the trail.  Next time?  I'm riding the red man!

It's a Good Day to Die

That's what I told myself, anyway.  I mean...is any day really a good day?  So today was just as good as any other, I figured.  May as well at least go with a bang...or a buck...or a bolt...

So the first thing I did (after trying to kill myself on one of the Cowboy's spooky quarter horses) was go out and take a look at my wild, rambunctious, untamable hoodlums of the horse world known as mustangs.  And I said to myself..."Self, you may as well go big, or go home.  No point putting your life on the line at the end of the day.  May as well step right up to the plate and do the riskiest one first."

And that's just what I did.  I went out and sweet talked the oldest, wildest, most unpredictable of all my mustangs (not to mention the most beautifulest) and asked her, pretty please, will you let me put a halter on you today?

And she did.

After sending her in a few circles in the round pen, I pulled out the saddle and bridle and held my breath and put it on the Diva.  And again, she was good and allowed it.  And again, I told myself it was a good day to die, and to go like a brave cowgirl, not a wimpy little wannabe.  

I gave the red head a pat and stepped into the stirrup.  I reached across and patted her neck.  She wiggled her lips, but stood still.

Go big!  Go big!  I stood all the way up, still rubbing and patting.  First the shoulder and neck, then back behind the saddle on her hip and rump.  She stood patiently.  No fire, no flames.

And then there I was, up top, astride, back in the saddle again.  The mare I'd brought home as a seven year old, put a couple dozen rides on as a nine year old, was now standing quietly beneath me two years later as an 11 year old.  And no one died.

With that done, Darling decided she, too, wanted to get into the act.  Beamer's been out on a couple of trail rides this past week, packing me for a couple of hours each time, over bridges, through water, up and down hills, trudging right along.

Darling decided that Beamer needed to go English, so she pulled out her saddle and climbed aboard.

After a few laps around the pen, Darling decided that she'd be riding Beamer on the trails from now on!

As Darling was trotting about, posting up and down, I was saddling Flirt.  She's been at the bottom of the 'to do' list for quite some time.  Counting down to the Trail Challenge with Oz, and knowing I needed to get Beamer ready to sell, meant that Flirt was just going to need to wait. until I had a bit of time.  Well...today I had a few extra minutes.  And, apparently,  a death wish.  So I saddled her up and for the second time this month, and then I climbed on board.

Maybe my death wish wasn't really as strong as I'd thought, because I didn't ask her to go anywhere.  Just climbed on and off a couple of times.  Or maybe it was that I was saved by the dinner bell?  City Boy called from the patio, and who was I to turn down a meal?

With nightfall creeping closer, and a full tummy, we sat down and watched a movie.  But my heart was still restless.  Something more needed to be done.  I returned to the barn as the sun slipped behind the trees and mosquitoes came out for their evening meal (seriously...blood sucking winged miniature vampires!)  I called to Oz, and saddled him up.  We made a couple of quiet walks around the pen, then I opened the gate and rode into the paddock where Flirt stood waiting, wearing her halter and lead.  She turned to face us and I reached out to pet her face, then slid my hand down her halter to her lead rope.

I asked Oz to turn and we headed back into the round pen, this time leading the two year old behind us.  Talk about the green leading the green.  And while it was a tiny space, there's still enough room to get into trouble.  The lead rope bounced off Oz's hip, crossed around behind him, even got clamped under his tail at one point (which I didn't know until I was ready to get off), and he just walked quietly while she followed nicely.

Seems it wasn't my day to die after all.  Good thing, because I have a trail challenge to go to in just...oh my word!...three weeks! 

When One Gate Closes...

What is it that Mother Superior said in the Sound of Music?  "When God closes a door, he leaves a window open"?  Something to that extent.  I'm waiting patiently for that open window to show up.  Somewhere, that cow cutting mustang of my dreams is out there.  I just wish it was here.  But until it shows up, I'll trudge forward and get done what needs to be done here and now.  Besides, I've got a Trail Challenge to prepare for!

Darling came outside the other afternoon when I was on Oz.  She's not ridden him in the past few weeks and asked if she could climb on.  Of course!  She was happily surprised at how far he'd come and how easy he was to ride in the round pen.  She even dropped to one hand and did a couple of figure 8's with him.  He maintained a steady walk throughout, which is exactly what he'll need once we hit the trail classes down in Oregon.

I mentioned the other day that I like working through gates with my horses.  Stopping, waiting, moving the front and back end of their bodies independently of each other...it builds to better overall body control.  Oz caught on so quickly to giving his rib cage when we were getting him started, and that has helped him figure out gates quite rapidly as well.

I asked Katie to grab a quick video of Oz and I coming through the gate.  I'd already practiced backing through (which he struggles just a little bit with) and walking through forward (it had been impeccable!), and I wanted to capture at least the walk through on a video clip.

As it turned out, once the camera was there, we backed through perfectly (Katie turned it on as she noticed it was going so well), but when Oz realized she was standing there with the camera on our way back in, he had to stop and look and wiggle a bit.  But for a greenie, he's doing well.  We have a long way to go when it comes to actual obstacles, but body control is there!  I guess until my cutting prospect comes along, these are the gates I'll be traveling through!

Would you go to your GP for dental work?

Oz would like to know, how much will the tooth fairy leave him?  Because after his day with the dentist, he surely believes he deserves something!

We had a gal from Oregon come up to the Cowboy's barn to do some work on Thursday.  In the past we've had different vets do our dental work.  They've come and slung a rope up over a beam in the stall door, then we'd stand the horse in the stall doorway, and the rope would be attached to their halter.  This would hold the head up where the vet was able to work easily on the teeth.

When I asked where the dentist would like to work on the horses (stall, alleyway), she said she'd like to have a corner somewhere with good light.  I assumed she must have a stand which the horse could rest it's head.  Nope.  She had me.  I was the helper, the head holder, the one who was expected to keep the horse's head where it was supposed to be so she could work.  

She explained to us that she'd seen horses get their heads pulled up so high that they'd had strokes, and decided a long time ago that she really didn't need to work like that.  So a head holder, aka human assistant, was what she used.

Tools of the dental trade sit inside a bucket of water

On Thursday, Doxee was the first to be done.  We knew it'd been a few years since her teeth had been looked at, so it was no surprise to hear that her teeth had a lot of ridges, hooks, flares and waves.  What was a surprise was when she told me to put my hand up there to feel.  No one had ever had me do that before!  But with Doxee wearing that special dental mouth piece (called a spreader bar) that kept her teeth from crunching down on me, I happily reached up to feel what the dentist felt.  

I was amazed at how far back I had to reach.  I mean...I've seen skulls and know those are long faces, but reaching up inside, I expected to get to the teeth sooner.  Leslie reached up there with various tools while I propped up Doxee's head, grinding and filing until it was all smooth.  Then she did something I'd never seen a vet do...she sawed off the front teeth!  

Okay, she didn't saw them off, but she did saw off 1/8" or so.  The reason for this was that while the top and bottom teeth in the front met up, her molars in the back had a big gap.  They'd been filed down...they didn't meet up.  The only way to make them meet up so that Doxee could chew her food was to alter the length of the front teeth as well.  

Doxee was the first of six horses that day.  Most were in worse condition than Doxee, which came as a shock since three of them had just come in from a big training barn.  The molars on a couple were so full of ridges that their cheeks were ripped up.  

Oz is always playing with his tongue

By the end of the day on Thursday, I was beat.  Holding heads all day is hard work!  I'm not sure how Leslie's back holds up to doing that much dental work in a day, or more!  She's been an equine dentist for 16 years now, however, so maybe she's used to it?

Today she came back to do five more, one of whom was Oz.  We elected to start with the older horses, knowing that they'd be the harder ones.  One mare had just been done 6 months ago.  Once again, she had me put my hand up inside the mouth.  I was disappointed...how could it be so bad in such a short amount of time?  According to Leslie, many vets simply don't know how to properly care for teeth.  How would they, she asked?  That's not what they've been trained to do.  They get a little bit of training for a wide variety of things, but nothing in depth like a specialist.  

Which makes perfect sense, right?  Would you go to your general practitioner for your dental work?  Probably not.  So why should we trust our horse's mouths to someone who hasn't had the in depth training of an equine dentist?

Oz, being a baby, is losing baby teeth.  He also still had his wolf teeth.  I've been wondering if the reason he's always got his tongue out is due to dental issues.  Of late, he's also begun to lose some weight.  Leslie confirmed that the weight was almost certainly due to him losing teeth right now.  She told me to expect the same in about another year.  She took a look up inside his mouth and commented on his big wolf teeth.  That didn't surprise me; every vet who's pulled wolf teeth on a mustang always comments on the size.  Oz's wolf teeth were not only large, but they were sharp and pointed.  No wonder they call them wolf teeth...they look like they should be inside the mouth of a dog!

Further back, Oz had one loose tooth and one that seemed to be stuck; it should have come out but instead was jammed in their between teeth.  That, we decided, was why he was always sticking that tongue out.  "It's like the world's biggest popcorn kernel," said Leslie, "and he's trying to push it out with his tongue."

Three pairs of teeth; the wolf teeth on the left, baby molars on the right, 

and in the center filings from the front teeth.

We'd thought that Oz would be the last, but the Cowboy asked Leslie if she could look at a mare who was just done a few weeks ago.  Seems she had some head issues, so they had a vet come and work on her.  After he left, she had a whole new set of issues with her bit.  Leslie slipped the spreader bar inside the mare's mouth and took a quick feel of her teeth.  She turned to me and said, "Reach up in their and tell me what you feel."

I reached inside, and the first tooth felt like it'd been filed.  I reached further back, and began feeling ridges and hooks on both sides, top and bottom.  I turned to look at Leslie, who was shaking her head.  "It feels like they just did the first tooth," I told her.  So rather than being done with Oz, I found myself holding one more head.

It was long day with horse's heads propped up on my shoulders, or resting in my arms, or my arms stuck up inside mouths.  Things I learned; never trust a vet to do a dentist's work, performance horses need to be checked every 6 months, and never tell your three year old the tooth fairy will come if they lose a tooth in the process because they quickly add up the fact that they just lost four.

Another Show for Oz!

Oz and I hauled out to his second halter show, and the boy once again turned a few heads!  This time we competed against seven other horses, and Oz took second.  Not bad for a range bred wild mustang!

Saddle training is moving along, though slower than I'd like.  We seem to only manage 2-3 days a week at best.  Daring has been doing most of the riding, with me at the end of the lungeline.  Oz is a big boy, and very powerful.  Though he's never offered to buck or be stupid, there's always that feeling of 'what if' when you're on him.  He's a smart colt and mentally ready for a lot more work.  Only problem is, he's not quite figured out the word WHOA.  Until he learns how to apply the brakes, we'll all just need to muddle along.

Meanwhile, Flirt is totally Sensational!

She is back down at the Cowboy's barn where I hope to really put in some serious time saddling her up and preparing her for her first ride.  There are still times when her wild side emerges, like today when there was a small child at the other end of the arena, and when a new horse walked through the barn.  She goes on full alert, drawing herself up tall with tightened muscles.

I'd just finished lunging her and had put the saddle on her back when the distraction came about this afternoon.  Not really what you want for a third time saddling and the first time in a new location, especially when you're not very consistent with the process.  But she didn't get goofy or anything, so I just worked her like nothing was going on at the other end of that arena.  She even loped for the first time while saddled and did splendidly.

Flirt's hives have broken off, but until her new summer coat arrives, and the winter one disappears, we're left with these goofy spots.

As long as I've got you here...how about a quick shot of what's going on down at the Cowboy's place?  

The Cowboy is now a Shepherd as well!  A couple months ago he purchased some sheep, and the ewes are beginning to lamb.  Aren't they adorable?

My niece and a new ewe lamb