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! 

Incorrigible Flirt!

in·cor·ri·gi·ble

  [in-kawr-i-juh-buhl, -kor-] 

adjective

1.

not corrigible; bad beyond correction or reform: incorrigiblebehavior; an incorrigible liar.

2.

impervious to constraints or punishment; willful; unruly;uncontrollable: an incorrigible child; incorrigible hair.

3.

firmly fixed; not easily changed: an incorrigible habit.

Flirt had been home for a week or better when the sun began shining and I began pining for a little time with my girl, so I loaded her up and hauled her to the riding club for a little one on one time.  She walked easily out of her paddock and even self loaded...a first!  I simply closed the door behind her and we were off.

Once at the arena, I began noticing little changes in Flirt's attitude.  She was a bit pushier, completely ignorant of the bubble concept, or the 'this is my space, this is yours idea'.  All space was her space.  She wasn't a happy pony in the round pen, either.  I'd been free lunging her while at the Cowboy's and thought I'd do the same here.  Mistake.  She had no desire to be obedient.  I'd send her in a direction, and when I asked her to stop, she continued on, completely disregarding my commands and pushing forward.  I snapped the whip out in front of her to get her attention, but she'd run right through it.  If I'd stepped in front of her, I believe she'd have simply mowed me down.  Obviously, she went back on the lunge line, but even then she was pushy and crowding my space.

We worked until there was a bit of sweat clinging to the both of us, though, and by the time we left for home, Flirt was at least tolerable.  I even got her to drag a bicycle tire around for a bit.

The following day the Cowboy had a clinic which I'd organized for him, so I didn't work with Flirt at all.  But on Monday I went out and, being as it was so nice out, decided to work her at home in our own pen.  

Once again, I thought I'd start with a few laps free lunging before moving on to saddling.  And once again Flirt threw a red headed two year old tantrum.  She raced around, ignoring my body language, pushing through my attempts to slow her down or turn her around.  A couple of times she rushed to the panels and stood straight up on her hind legs in an attempt to see if she could lift herself over them.  That was a scary sight, given her past!   I decided to back off completely and simply stood in the center, an action to which she responded to by coming over and standing with me.  On went the lunge line and back to work we went, this time with a little more respect.

After a few minutes of positive action, I led her to the barn where I tied her to the post.  All those times she stood tied so patiently while at the Cowboy's...she made up for it now. She tossed her head and stomped her feet and tried to dig herself to China.  Sigh...what happened to my sweet girl?

Obviously, Flirt needs daily handling.  So Tuesday she was lunged (lunge line) and saddled, and she was an absolute doll.  So much of  a doll that I started bouncing in the stirrup and stood all the way up over top of her, rubbing along the other side of her body, patting her rump and scratching under her mane.  No one around...should I swing my leg over?  Probably stupid...so I resisted.

Yesterday Flirt was again perfectly willing to behave herself.  This time Darling walked out while I was working her, so after bouncing up and down a couple times, I swung my leg over her back and sat in the saddle.  I was only there briefly, but my seat was firmly planted and my legs were resting on both sides.  Then I stood up and swung off.  Quick and easy on and off.  

I sat on my girl.  It was Sensational!

I'm a Big Girl Now!

Flirt is growing.  I haven't measured but it wouldn't surprise me if she was pushing 15 hands.  And she's butt high.  She's going to be a BIG girl!  Or at least tall.  Taller than I'd really like, these days.  I'm going to need a step ladder to climb on!

Speaking of climbing on, I think that day is coming sooner rather than later for her.  Today she was saddled up and doing so fine that I drug the mounting block into the round pen with me.  I plunked it down alongside of her, climbed on top of it, reached across the top of her and began rubbing on her neck on the opposite side.  I rocked the saddle around.  I reached back and patted heartily on her rump.  I thumped on the saddle fender...the one over on the other side of her body, leaning over her back while doing so.  She was totally unconcerned.  

I pulled the fender out and let it thump against her, thinking briefly that maybe this was an awkward position to be in, leaning across the back of a 2 year old with my toes on a mounting bock.  I mean, I'd end up falling from my perch and landing beneath her, undoubtedly, if she were to jump or spook.  But she didn't.  

I placed my foot in the stirrup, and she turned to look at me as my toe bumped into her side.  That was the biggest reaction I got from her all morning.  I moved my foot around, stepped up and laid over her back, rubbing her neck and talking to her all the while.

"Come on, Mom...what's stopping you?"

Well, I'm all alone out there, that's what's stopping me.  But it won't be long.  It won't be long.

Flirt is a Feature Story

The spunky redhead landed herself a feature story in the March issue of the Northwest Horse Source! (It's pages 30-31, just in case the link doesn't open up directly to it.)

Flirt has been learning to be a well mannered lady.  She's back a the Cowboy's, where she behaves herself quite well.  She enjoys her play time, but mostly she likes to hang out with me. She's shedding like mad!  So much hair...everywhere! On my shirt, stuck to my gloves, up inside my nose...

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

Playtime

The beautiful Wadatika and Flirt get in a little play time!  

Ouch.

"Someday you'll learn," were the parting words of the Cowboy as I hobbled out of the barn, a lovely purple and blue hoof print encircling my knee cap.

The lesson was to work the horse until she was tired before doing something new. It's obviously a lesson one should learn early on, if they're going to work with mustangs, or any youngster for that matter. But such is life, eh? Sometimes 

we slip up and do something that doesn't seem like such a stupid idea at the time.

I'd led Flirt into the big arena rather than the round pen today. Rope, coat and plastic bag work had all gone so well, I thought maybe today I'd introduce her to the saddle blanket. 

That didn't go so well.

She was fascinated by the smells of other horses, burying her face in the blanket, but not liking when I tried to rub it on her neck, or bump her shoulder with it. No huge reactions, just stepping back and pushing her face into it again. I didn't press the matter, I didn't think. I simply approached and retreated, and as I retreated she would approach, wanting to bury her face in it some more.

Eventually I decided I'd walk her back to her stall, carrying the blanket with me. She followed on a somewhat loose lead, her muzzle at my pocket where she knew the treats were hiding. I finally stopped to rub her face and hand her one, but something got into her mind. Something that said, "Run, and kick that nasty saddle pad when you go!" And so she did. Except she kicked my knee cap instead, which dropped me to the ground in relatively short order. She then ran back to the front of the arena, where she paused at the small door that led into the barn. 

I hollered a few times before anyone heard me. There was a horse in the cross ties and I sure didn't want her getting into a wreck. Someone finally heard me, but of course by then Flirt was trotting through the small alleyway out into the barn. She was led back out by someone who was just a little intimidated by my oversized, somewhat frightened yearling (why? I can't imagine, lol), and I managed to get myself up and over to her, led her back to her stall and put her way.

My knee? Oh, a lovely shade of bright purples, blues and black. Swelling? Well, a little, I suppose. Drenched it in DMSO, then vet wrapped an ice pack to it, after which I drove the half hour home. And here I sit, telling you my story so that you make sure you work that horse until it's tired before you go introducing a saddle blanket, okay? Okay. Once I get this unwrapped, I'll take a picture and share the beauty of it with you!

To Lance or Not to Lance?

Flirt has become a mooch.  She sees me walk past her stall window and feels the need to stick her nose in hopes that I'll notice her and perhaps offer up a few more pounds of tasty grain.  It makes me smile every time.

When I came home from the Cowboy's a couple nights ago, I noticed that the punctures where the darts had hit Flirt were seeping a yellow pus.  Ick!  When she moved, it was obvious that her left hind leg was uncomfortable.  Really?  How was I to doctor a half wild horse?  

I'd managed to change Flirt's halter to one that was a little larger than the yearling one that had been on her to begin with, and her drag line was now off, since she'd been seeking treats from me.  But despite that small step forward in gaining trust, administering penicillin shots was probably not going to earn me brownie points.

Thankfully, the vet felt that we could start with a powdered antibiotic, and since the mooch was more than happy to gobble up her grain, that has been an easy route to take.  If it didn't work, I was told, we'd need to switch to daily injections, and if the punctures began to abcess we'd need to lance them to drain.  Yikes!

After two days, her attitude and appetite are good, the oozing seems to have dwindled and she's not quite as lame.  There is definite swelling that I'm not fond of, but it's down low on her leg, not at the point of entry, so we'll just keep on doing what we're doing and hope we can get over this sooner rather than later.

Today I opened up the gate between her paddock and the round pen for the first time, giving her a great deal more space to move around in.  When I walked out tonight, she came straight to me and checked out my pockets.  Treats?  

Yes, Flirt, I have treats.

Pocket Pony in the making!

Flirt...Shot!

The morning dawned bright and ever so cold. Our first real frost of the season covered the ground as well as the windshields of our vehicles. I tossed hay to the wrangler horses who were in my barn and waited for Wendy & Ramona to show up.

Wendy had discussed the situation with the BLM vet before heading north. He ordered some unpronounceable drug (not to mention impossible to spell) with whic

h to dart Flirt and had it FedExed overnight up to Kulshan Vet. It was supposed to have arrived on Wednesday...yesterday...but it didn't. And that is why we were sitting at my kitchen table with Wendy mixing up concoctions and filling needles and darts this morning.

New friend and Flirt fan, Dawn, had offered the other day to bring her game camera, and to climb up into a tree and sit and watch to see if she could spot Flirt out there in the woods. Once we found her, Dawn again volunteered to be there to help out. And so it was that the five of us, Wendy, Ramona, Dawn, Katie and myself, headed up the road armed with dart gun, horses and plenty of rope.

"Houdini"

Wendy's plan was for to walk in, along with Dawn, and use her gelding Houdini as a shield. I was to follow a short distance behind on Witchknot, then slip over to the left to block a possible escape out toward the road. Katie and Ramona were on foot behind me, staying toward the opening where we'd just crossed the bog.

The dart can be a tricky thing...it can hit a horse and take them out in just a couple of minutes...or it can startle them, get their adrenaline running, and send them running for up to 15 minutes. This was NOT what we wanted to have happen, as Flirt could easily get tangled up in our dense underbrush. 

"Witch Knot"

While Witchknot and I worked our way into place, Wendy, Dawn and Houdini moved forward and disappeared into the trees. We hoped that Flirt was in the same basic place as yesterday, and it didn't take long to realize that was indeed where she stood. We couldn't see a thing from where we waited, but as we listened we knew when the first shot was made. We heard Wendy's voice as she talked to Flirt. No craziness, no sudden flight. It stayed quiet for a moment, and we heard the second dart go pop out of the gun.

It must have been 20 minutes before we were called into the trees. Flirt was on her feet, two dart marks with blood dripping from her hindquaters. Her head was hanging low. She was doing her best to walk, as Wendy and Houdini guided her to the fence behind her. No way were we going to attempt the bog with this super drugged up horse! Thankfully, there was a gate in the barbed wire fence behind us, and we were able to go through that and follow the old road out to a nearby farm.

Flirt wobbled and weaved, but eventually we were out in the open again. Ramona had brought the horse trailer up the driveway and turned it around so that the back end was facing us. The door was opened, and Wendy rode Houdini up to it. She'd thought to just ride right in, bringing Flirt with her, but realized as she approached that this trailer was a bit too low for that. As she climbed off Houdini, Flirt stepped forward and climbed into the trailer. Wobbly, drugged...it didn't matter. I think this girl is a trailer loading fool!

A few minutes later, Flirt was back home. Sound, but looking like she dropped 100 lbs, she went quietly with Wendy out of the trailer and into her paddock.

Flirt his home...tired and hungry. She's not left her food since arriving. She let Wendy rub all over her neck and face (with a little effort) and is now snugly tucked inside for the night. We've draped tarps over the fence where she went through to help her rethink that exit plan, but for the moment I just don't think she wants to be anywhere but where she is. It's dry, there's food. She's home ♥

The Cavalry has Arrived!

Today is day 9 of Flirt missing.  Wendy and Ramona from the BLM drove up from Oregon to help locate her.  From Flirt's facebook page:

Wendy and I headed back up the logging road on horseback, searching out every possible off shoot. Because I'd been leading the mares back and forth, we had to go quite a ways to get to where we may be able to find fr

esh tracks. And fresh tracks we found...but they led to a dead end. The old road stopped, and though we'd spotted one pile of manure (first time since the two down below on Sunday), there wasn't any indication that she was nearby. Wendy got off and scouted round under the brush for several minutes, but it looked as though Flirt had traveled up, then doubled back.

We found several spurs that left the main road, but all ended in a dead end, and other than the first one we'd taken, none showed any indication that she'd been there.

We returned to the catch pen at the bottom where we were greeted by a whinny from Ebony. I told Wendy that there was another direction we could head, and that it would be a good place for a horse to hang out. I'd not been up there on foot, though Katie and I had scouted the area last week. Flirt would have had to go through a little camp site, which included two buildings, a tractor, a gate leaning up against a tree and a little fire pit. It seemed unlikely that she'd want to cross through all that, but it was the only place left that we'd not traveled.

Just as we were heading out the back side of the camp, we spotted a fresh track. A glimmer of hope!

On the north side of the camp, a trickle of water runs through. It's fed by an underground spring and the entire area, especially this time of year, is nothing but bog. Houdini crossed it relatively well; I was riding Witchknot and he wasn't quite as happy about feeling as though he would be sucked beneath the surface. This was another reason I'd not thought Flirt would be back there...not something a horse really wants to cross on their own.

Once we got the horses through the mud, the ground got drier and we continued through the young trees toward an older grove. We were heading toward the water tower, which is fenced off. Just as we reached the tall stand of trees, I spotted a pile of manure. It didn't look real fresh...had one of our horses dropped it when Katie and I rode last week?

Then there was another, not ten feet away. Another 20 feet, another! This was more manure than we'd seen anywhere...and all in one little spot! We had to be close...we just HAD to be!

Question was...was she in the tall trees ahead, or was she hiding from us behind one of the smaller trees planted in the old pasture to our left? 50' told the tail...there she was. My beautiful Flirt!

She was hiding from us, head low so as not to be spotted. We looked at each other, turned and left. It's getting late and we don't want her to be disturbed and move this close to night. I think she'll stay put. I hope she'll stay put. We'll see in the morning.