More Better Than the Rest

We were driving down the road, Darling and I, that sunny Friday morning, when we came across a little antique shop with a sign that said 'More Better Antiques'.  We laughed, saying wouldn't the Grammar Nazi love that?  More better...

Our destination had been Ride the West, a horse fair being held in Spokane, WA.  There was a BLM adoption being held there, though it was not our intent to adopt.  They would be in Monroe two weeks later; that was much closer to us.  But we wanted to enjoy the weekend together and it never hurt our feelings to visit another adoption event.

Of course...once there, we started shopping. We couldn't help ourselves!  And the BLM staff, bless their hearts, said that if we found something we liked, they'd haul it back to Monroe if we wanted to adopt that weekend.  And so...you know how it is...we did!  

We had a short list, and among those first few picks was a tall, rangy red dun colt.  Goodness, he was a lanky thing, but he caught our eye, and Darling dubbed him "More Better", because, she said, he was more better than the rest.

We were not the only ones who the colt attracted that morning.  Not far from us on the bleachers was a young woman who'd lost the bid on another mustang, and she was determined not to lose this boy.  Darling and I didn't have much in the way of funds, so it didn't take long for us to be outbid.  We were disappointed, but someone else was made terribly happy.  And in the end?  We went home winning the bid on little Quiet Storm, which was the best possible horse for Darling to start on.

I'd been cruising the internet for a wild horse forum, but didn't find one.  I went straight to work and created one, which drew not a lot of traffic, but among the few original members was none other than Andrea...the woman who'd outbid us on that red dun gelding.  Over the past six years we've shared a love for that boy, who grew into an extremely handsome, tall, stout horse.  I was fortunate to visit with him in person a few years ago when I was in Spokane for a mustang show.  Andrea hauled him over from her Idaho home.  She'd done such a good job with that boy, who she'd named Tonka.

So many of my readers also read Andrea's blog, and by now you've undoubtedly learned that she lost this incredible gelding this weekend.  My heart aches for her, but I am so thankful that she is at peace with it all.

Andrea is not letting the grass grow under her feet.  She put the word out that she was now in need of a horse so that she and her husband could continue trail riding.  Mustang or domestic, it didn't matter, just as long as it was of decent size and had a good mind.

I messaged Andrea from facebook and asked if she wouldn't be interested in adopting from the corrals again?  It's so difficult to choose one from the photos, of course, but I sent her to my photo album of adoptable geldings from my last trip to Burns.  Low and behold, there he was...the big stout bay gelding.  He made her heart go pitter pat, she said.  So at the moment I am waiting with baited breath to hear if she's able to adopt.  I'm hoping and praying he's just as good a friend to her as Tonka!

Waaa...HOOOO!!!!

City Boy and I went to see Buck, the movie, tonight. I was worried... I'd been told by a few people that they'd seen my name in the credits, but hadn't spotted the photo I'd said would be in it. How had that happened?

So with a wee bit of apprehension I sat in the dark theater, prepared to enjoy the movie even if I didn't spot my photo. I munched on popped corn and forgot to share it with City Boy. I drank my soda. And I was drawn in instantly. What a spectacular film!

And then out of nowhere I was blindsided! What was I seeing? A black and white shot, a loading ramp with horses coming down, and who was that? That wasn't Henry, the roan. That was...that was...QUIET STORM!

Now, mind you, this is the photo they'd wanted, but I couldn't find the full resolution original, so I sent them one of Henry, thinking it was similar enough. But in watching the film I realized just why they wanted Quiet Storm...they were talking about yearlings unloading, and this photo fit with the story line.

How lucky am I? Truly...nothing more than dumb luck to have someone go digging back through three or four years of blog posts to come across a yearling unloading. Well...I'll take it, thank you very much! Dumb luck is better than no luck at all, eh?

Now, y'all check and see where the movie is playing and go see it. You will not be disappointed.

Itching to ride and Another cutie overlooked

Steve Holt! is tired of vacation

Yesterday, Darling and I hauled Sandy and Steve Holt! up to the riding club where she rode and I hung out with my boy. He's beginning to get bored with no job, and it was all I could do to keep myself out of the saddle. My back still has a small sore spot which gives me little to no problem for the most part, but Steve Holt! is a big mover, and you may recall when I first climbed on board in January I could feel every hoof hit the ground for a solid month. So I'm determined to try to take this journey back into his saddle slow.

I'll likely fail. I'm good at failing things like this. Little tests of patience and such. Enough pain pills and it'll all be okay...right? Sure, it will! I hopped on Sandy's back a couple times last week without any issues, so the plan for the next few days is to work Steve Holt! from the ground, put a few more rides on Sandy to limber myself up, then back into my new saddle on a mustang who's now had as much time off as he had rides on him before our set backs.

Mare 8746

Now you tell me, does this mare have Sandy's smiling eye, or what??? Why is no one bidding on such a good girl? I may have to bring her home. (Shhh...dont' read that part, City Boy!) Four years old and approx. 15.1, she's a decent sized girl. And she comes from Coyote Lakes, so perhaps she's related to Quiet Storm?

Again, the offer still stands. Any of the Oregon horses who are left after the adoption, I'd be happy to pick up for you and do the gentling if you'd like to adopt them. Let's find these lovelies homes!

Meet Isabella...

Not a mustang. Not even a BLM Burro. So what the heck is she doing here at the Mustang Diaries? Expressing a bit of Donkitude, that's what!

I made the drive to Sedro Woolley to visit Quiet Storm and Mist, convincing Debbie that we could help her get her hands on hay to get her through until spring. Steve met me there to sign off on Mist's BLM paperwork. While there, we were led into a barn full of minis. Mini horses and mini donkeys. I jokingly asked which one they were giving me to use as a livestock guardian. "Whichever one you want," was the answer.

No, I didn't want. I couldn't...could I? No...City Boy would flip his lid. I couldn't.

Somehow those crazy people had me backing my truck up to the barn and loading little Isabella into its bed. The horses were mystified at first. But they now think of her as a long eared sheep who's baaaa needs a bit of oil.

City Boy expressed that he was not entirely delighted with the prospect of a donkey and has made me promise to sell a couple sheep if we keep her. I think deep down he likes her, though...she's so cotton pickin' cute!!! And full of Donkitude...

Surely you'll grow to love her, City Boy!

Heartbreak...

Poor Quiet Storm just can't catch a break. About a month ago I received a call from her new owner, sobbing, in tears, telling me she'd have to give up the mustangs. She'd just been through heart surgery and the bills were coming in. I asked if I could buy her a couple months time, would that help? Yes...she said.

And so the word went out, and a few extra bales brought in. And she was overjoyed. But she's still struggling to get things straightened out with the hospital, trying to get a payment plan that will work, and tonight I heard from her daughter saying that her mom had decided she just can't take any more charity and has decided she needs to give the horses up.

Which means that our dear little girl is again in need of a home. If anyone here is in the northwest and would like more information on this now 4 year old sweet as can be little mare please let me know.

Also available is Mist (Firecracker). For those of you who've not been at the Diaries for long, she's a 5 year old Kiger mare. Debbie has been on her, although I don't know how many rides.

Should anyone want to help contribute to their care until we can rehome them, I'd be much obliged! You can paypal mustangdiaries@gmail.com where an account has been set up especially for them.

*************

Yesterday Lynda the reporter and Alan the photographer were back. We met them at Curt's place so they could watch while I took a lesson, plus Jay had promised to meet us there to give Steve Holt! his first trim. Darling had her camera, but when I asked if she got video of Steve Holt!'s ride, she said..."Um...No." What?! Sigh...what will I do with that kid?

Curt had offered to let Lynda ride one of the cutting horses, and Darling did get that recorded. She also got Steve Holt! being introduced to a pedicure.

The Great Mystery, part 4

"There aren't any equine vets in at the moment, I'm afraid. There was a huge emergency and three of our vets have been there all day," said the voice at the end of the line.

"Three vets? All day? Wow...must be bad. I guess I can wait," I told the faceless voice while counting my blessings that that wasn't my bill being added up.

I decided to email Stephanie and ask if there was any chance at all that Quiet Storm had been exposed to a stallion while in her care. I knew it was a long shot, but then again it was an even longer shot that Sandy, my mild mannered gelding, was harboring a more manly side.

Steph's response was no...but wait, well...yes. The last place had three stallions on the premise, but they were all the way across the property, on the other side of the barns and house and driveway. Surely they hadn't been in with her, or her with them. No one had ever mentioned horses getting loose to Steph, at least, so she was hopeful that the answer to my mystery didn't lie in her boarding facility. It did, however, make more sense than Sandy being a stallion.

Upon returning from my late afternoon trail ride I found a message from a vet. "I'd guess it to be 2 months, " she said into my voice mailbox. I wish I'd been home to answer. I wish they'd called my cell like I'd asked. 2 months? That would mean conception in August, and any one of my geldings as well as either filly! This wasn't narrowing things down in the least!

A moment later my cell phone rang. It was Deb. "Hi, just wanted to let you know it was Quiet Storm. I went out to take a peek under her tail and she was definitely more stretched out in the vulva than if she were a normal 3 year old who hadn't just miscarried." Debi was breathing a sigh of relief when I told her that five months ago Quiet Storm had been boarded on a piece of property where there were stallions. "Oh, yeah! I really didn't want to have to worry about Mist being bred!"

So, by reasonable deduction I've come up with this: Most likely one of the stallions (or all) were loose and Stephanie was never told that there was a chance little QS had been bred by one of them. Of course, we can't prove this happened, but take away the 2 month estimate and all the pieces line up. QS would have been bred in June or early July (4-5 months ago), then moved back up here. For whatever reason, something triggered the miscarriage and she aborted here at home. Better, I think, than having it happen at the temporary home she'd been in the previous two weeks. And really all the way around, it's best that she didn't carry to term. Too many horses not being cared for in this world already. I'm just thankful that our sweet little girl is healthy and has a lovely life to look forward to!

The Great Mystery...Part 3

"Miss Banana Head" and Sandy out on the trail.

Read Part 1

Read Part 2

I was stunned, to say the least. There were three questions swirling around in my mind.

1) How did that get there?
2) Which of the mares had aborted their foal?
3) What had caused the miscarriage?

And then I realized I had a fourth question...

4) Which of my geldings managed to sire a foal???

I looked out into the pasture at Jet, Sandy and Dude, contemplating the pieces of my puzzle. Quiet Storm had left the day before. The fetus was in the stall she'd used, but she'd pushed the door open and was out with everyone else when I'd come out to feed. I'd never walked around to the back to see if there was any little gift left deposited on the floor because...well, why would I? So had it been there when she left? Had she come home for one night, miscarried, and then I'd hauled her off?

Or had it been Jet? I'd taken Sandy and Jet for a trail ride Wednesday morning, not ever considering that perhaps there'd been a foal aborted the previous day or two.

I looked at the little pink thing laying at my feet. How far along was it? Where was it conceived? Who were it's parents?

Sandy had mounted and penetrated Mist (FC) back in July. I'd been aghast, but was reassured that while this wasn't the norm, it wasn't abnormal behavior either, especially when enticed by the mare. Mist was a flirt, and Sandy just tried his best to keep her happy. What if he was able to actually produce sperm? Oh, good grief...I had to call Deb and tell her what I'd found and let her know there was just the slightest possibility that Mist may be bred.

Among the phone conversations I had over the next 20 minutes was one with a vet. The fetus had a back that was at least 4" long, and the total length was 6-7". Given the size, he said, he'd estimate 4-5 months. Now the big question...could Sandy be the father? The vet said it's pretty rare to have a gelding with a retained testicle capable of siring a foal, but not 100% impossible. The only way to tell would be through a blood draw to check his hormone levels.

I was also faced with the math of who was here in that time frame. Jet, obviously. Sandy came home in late June, Dude didn't go out with the girls until late July, and Joe was late August. The foal had to have been conceived in June if the 4 month estimate was correct, meaning Sandy and Jet.

Then again... Where was Quiet Storm before coming home to me in July?

There were just too many unknowns here for me to make any progress. The fetus found it's way into a plastic bag and on Thursday I drove up to the clinic and left it in hopes of a vet being able to give me an approximate age so that I could better understand what was going on.

To Be Continued...

The Great Mystery...Part 2

Read Part 1 Here

I'd spent the better part of the weekend wondering just what I was going to do with Quiet Storm once I got her home. I emailed friends and acquaintances, explaining that I was running low on marital lives around here and pleading with them to consider taking Quiet Storm, if not permanently, then at least stash her for me so that City Boy didn't know what I'd done.

On Monday I received a call from Debi, laughing about my marital life status and saying that she could hide the little mustang at her place for me. Major relief, and just in the nick of time as I was to pick Quiet Storm up late that afternoon. Because it was getting dark, we decided it best to wait until Tuesday to haul her down to Deb's place.

By Tuesday morning, Debi was thinking maybe Quiet Storm would make a nice pony for her granddaughters. When I arrived, she had her daughter pull out a light weight Wintec saddle and hop on. You can guess what happened next, can't you?

Nothing.

Quiet Storm and Deb's oldest granddaughter

We're talking Quiet Storm, so of course nothing happened! She was just sweet, cute as a bug and completely at ease. And Deb fell under her spell. "How much do you want for her?" Oh, please...just love her and give her a good home was my reply, and the deal was done. No need to worry. Debi now had two of my former charges...Quiet Storm and Mist (FC) living in her pasture.

Deb and her daughter put me to work riding a few of their horses over the next hour or two, and it was getting late when I arrived home. I tossed hay into my horses and figured I'd leave the cleaning until tomorrow.

Imagine my surprise when, on Wednesday morning, I walked around to corner to find an aborted fetus laying on the stall floor...

To Be Continued...

The Great Mystery...Part 1

Quiet Storm

After spending the bulk of the summer just hanging out with us, I finally felt compelled to find Quiet Storm a new home. Things are getting damp and all those horse hooves are creating more mud than I need. I placed an ad and began screening the replies.

One young woman stood out. Early 20s, not too tall and a strong rider, someone who could finish up Quiet Storm and get her going really well under saddle. She was looking for a third horse, one to keep her older mare company when she took off on her gelding, plus something her younger cousins could go trail riding on. It seemed like a perfect fit, so three weeks ago today, Quiet Storm loaded up and headed off to her new life. I tried hard not to cry like a baby this time.


I now needed to concentrate on Joe. I'd had a flurry of applications, but no one ever seemed to take him home. One day my neighbor gave me a call and wondered what it was I'd been doing over here all summer. She'd seen the adoption banner hanging on my gate and normally didn't seem to have any interest at all in my animals, so it took me by surprise when she felt compassion for Joe as I told her his story.

"Well, I might know of someone who wants him. She just bought a place and..."

How long do you think it took me to get into contact with them? That's right, not long. And this woman was over the top excited, emailing her application in before even meeting Joe face to face. In fact...she signed the care agreement, too! It would be another week before he could come home, but with all the paperwork signed I was happy.


All was looking mighty good. That is...until I got a message from Lady of Chaos. She'd spotted an ad in Craigslist for a 3 year old mustang filly. Could it be Quiet Storm, she wondered?


I took a look, and sure enough, our fears were confirmed. I emailed promptly, asking to have her back. They agreed. I had to deliver Joe that weekend, but on Monday night after the gal was off work I drove out to pick up our little girl.

To be continued...

Joe meets his new pasturemate, Special

Who's Who's Horse?

Otterkat left a comment recently about being confuddled around here regarding who's horse was who's. As in, at one time Darling and I talked about trading Firecracker for Jet, and Jet would belong to Darling. Otterkat also recalled that it was Darling who'd decided that Quiet Storm was too small and she needed a taller horse.

Congratulations, Otter, for paying attention! Gold star to you, girl!

Quiet Storm learns to carry a bit

Yes, Darling had decided to pass QS along, but it was impulse shopping while in Burns that spurred her into that decision. For a solid month afterwards she moped and cried about selling her best friend. She'd break out in tears walking through the mall and climb out of bed in the mornings and come sit in my lap and shed more tears. I had a lot of wet shoulders. That little horse meant a lot to her, and they were best friends. She hadn't known that QS was going to be at the adoption, I'd not told her in advance. Perhaps I should have, just to get her heart prepared.

Thing is...I'm finding my heart being wrenched around now, too, since she's come back into our lives. There's something terribly special about that little horse and I'm struggling just as much as Darling.

Darling's boy, Dude Lee Doright

As for Jet...Darling enjoys her immensely, especially now that she's able to be ridden a bit more, but a few days after the 'trade' she said she didn't really know if it's what she wanted to do. Then she picked out Dude while we were in Pasco last month, so that is her true horse.

City Boy enjoys Jet, too, and has staked a claim. Of course, we told him it was his horse when we drove into the driveway with her last year. What a super gift, eh? Not all wives and daughters would have been so considerate! So of course she belongs to him...he's just gracious enough to let me ride.

Jet Storm

Trouble with a capital T

Oh, we've got trouble.

Right here on Carpenter Creek.

With a capital T that rhymes with me,
that stands for Molalla!

Okay, so here's what happened this past weekend. Or before, really, as that's where the trouble began.

I was ready to drive down to the adoption when City Boy informs me that my truck isn't fit to drive that far. Maybe, maybe not, but why risk it? He's been waiting for a part and it's been on backorder. He'd forgotten this was the weekend I was going to be gone, and me...well, I'm the world's worst communicator and hadn't said anything of late about going. So when I thought I'd be pulling out on Thursday, it ended up on Wednesday I was calling the BLM in Oregon in a panic over what I was going to do without horses for my gentling demos at next months fair.

I love my BLM! I'm going to print up a bumper sticker saying that, because the head of the wild horse program there told me he'd haul the horses for me. That's right...from the southeast corner of Oregon to the northwest corner of Washington. Who says those folks aren't caring about the wild horses? I love my BLM! Still, they said, they were very short handed and could use all the help they could get, so was there any chance I could drive down in another vehicle?

City Boy, with what I decided must have been a sigh of resignation, said I could take his car. And so Darling and I were off on Friday morning, making our way to the town with the funny name that's fun to say. Molalla!


Tom, the manager from the corrals, has hand picked a pretty bay gelding that he thinks I may like. A nice moving horse and a little bit curious. He's got silver streaks in his mane and tail which make him a rabicano. Yes, another funny word but much less fun to say than Molalla! I had to agree; Tom has good taste in horses. He pointed out a couple others that he liked and Darling and I pulled out our shopping list and began to make a short list of horses we liked.

Tom handpicked this lovely bay rabicano for me.

The plan was to wait until after everyone had an opportunity to take the horses they liked at Saturday's adoption, then we'd select from our short list of 4 horses. There were several that we liked; this year's 'crop' was good. Lots of big behinds and sloping shoulders, things this quarter horse person is drawn towards.

Red dun gelding has lovely blond streaks in his mane (why is it on the other side?)

One of the geldings on the list was a 2 year old red dun. It's always difficult to judge just how tall the horses are when they're in the pens on uneven ground, but our assumption was that these boys were all 15 hands and up, and the dun looked like he was roughly 15.1 with a back end just a wee bit higher. I anticipate he'll end up over 16 hands when he's fully mature.

There was a short, stocky bay who reminded me of Dude. Another bay had a very sleek body. There was a splashy looking sorrel who had a sabino pattern and looked a little bit drafty. So many horses...so little room! This was not going to be easy.

But that's not all.

No...that's not all.

I'd received a panicked email from Stephanie, Quiet Storm's owner, just a couple days before we left. She was in a difficult spot and they'd decided that they needed to place all three of their horses in new homes. She was really struggling with this decision, and I couldn't help it...I had to help. I told her Quiet Storm could come home with us.

But wait! Now I didn't have my truck and trailer. So I called the BLM again and they said..."No Problemo!" (City Boy does not love my BLM...and he's not very happy with me, either, as I managed to leave out that little detail...)

While there, we met with Jenifer and her husband. They live in southwest WA and we'd met online. She'd wanted a mustang, and in fact had considered Cricket. Jennifer fell for a very nice tank of a horse, a 3 year old with some Appaloosa traits. I knew there was no way I could bring home four horses, so we decided that Jennifer's boy, Quiet Storm and the bay would be who came home with us.

Jennifer has named her boy Simply Magic

Darling was beside herself with joy at the thought of her best friend coming home. I told her we needed to find her a new home, that we couldn't keep her, but I'm not sure she understood just how soon that would be. While there we spoke with a woman who thought Quiet Storm was just the cutest thing. She was looking for a pony for her son. There was a farrier there giving demos; he knew the sister of this woman and vouched for their love and good care of horses. It seemed like a great fit. Darling cried and resisted. The woman told us she was running to town and we could think about it.

It was so difficult. Darling was sobbing. Pleading. Calling her dad (who'd forgotten his phone at home) to beg him to let her bring her baby home. But in the end she managed to pull herself together and we called the woman and told her she could buy Quiet Storm. The woman was thrilled, but Darling went to the car with red swollen eyes and refused to speak to me.

Happier times from last fall

With Quiet Storm having a new home, I decided to go ahead and grab a third horse. Not the plan, surely not the space, but since one was already spoken for I figured I may as well grab the other and see if I could get it adopted out as well. The adoption was over, the paperwork was in hand and the three horses were on their way through the loading chute when my cell phone rang...

"Hi...I hate to do this, but I've decided this was an impulse buy. I really can't take your horse. I really need to be able to have my son ride before I buy...I'm so sorry...please tell your daughter I'm so sorry for putting her through this..."

And there I sat, three wild horses in a trailer and Quiet Storm in hand. And a smiling Darling. And a heart filled with dread because, well, let's face it; I was pushing the envelope with three horses, and City Boy was not going to be happy about all this...and I can't say that I blame him.

Kiss My Big, Fat, Hairy...

LIPS!

I think it's a good idea to start out with a new training method when you're up against a 90 day time frame and the biggest competition of your life, don't you? Such as rather than using a long rope, or even an 8' lead, putting a short, 3 1/2 foot rope on your new wild horse that prevents you from reaching down and picking up the end of it, thus speeding up the gentling process. Perfect time to try something new!

At the end of the first day, Sandy has begun kissing. Blowing in my face, really. He's curious, but lacks confidence. At the bottom of the horsey pecking order and with chunks missing from that lovely bay coat of his, he tends to approach things a bit cautiously. Despite that, he's learning to lead, giving to both the left and right, plus following along behind as I walk forward. He also let me touch his nose. That's a first for me; the girls were all nervous about noses and preferred me to approach shoulders instead.


On our way down to Sacramento to pick Sandy up, we made a very special stop to visit a dear old friend...Quiet Storm! Short, fat and hairy; she was the same sweet girl we love and miss. She's doing well in her new home with Stephanie, though, where she's well cared for and loved.

BFF...Best Friends Forever!

Sponsor me in the Mustang Makeover!
http://Desperate-Horsewife.blogspot.com

Join the Hay Burner's Club and donate $15 towards Sandy's upkeep and I'll send you a 5x7 photo (once the horse is here, of course.) Or buy advertising space in the form of a button.

If Looks Could Kill...

...I'd be dead. Firecracker wasn't happy with me in her space. I'd been there too long, asked for too much. Greed. That's what it was. Things had been going smoothly and I wanted more than she was able to give.

This morning Stephanie and her husband showed up for Quiet Storm. She was so excited about taking home her new horse. Darling and I fought back the tears and were brave little soldiers. Loaded and on the road, we were in the house when Darling came and sat on my lap to cry. "I didn't want to sell her." And yet, less than a month ago she'd wanted nothing more than to give up her little filly for the new horse.

But Quiet Storm will be okay. Stephanie emailed three times from her cell phone to proclaim her love for this horse. And it will only get worse...that love sick feeling. They'll make a good team.Quiet Storm wasn't the only upset that faced us today. Firecracker lost her foal. Much farther along than I thought, I could make out the tiny body inside the crimson placenta laying out in the snow this morning. The head, the ears, eyes and even nostrils were prominent enough to show through. Legs; long and curled under it's belly, with the knees and hooves, and even it's hip could be made out. I'm left wondering what caused her to abort. She'd been coughing a bit when she first came, her nose a mucusey mess. Could it be rhinonuemenitis, a disease that causes late term abortion in mares? Or had she felt too stressed with me messing with her these past two weeks?

I'll likely never know. Thankfully, we hadn't grown attached to the unborn foal, so no grieving from anyone involved, least of all Firecracker. Her main concern today was how quickly I was going to produce her hay for breakfast and dinner. She didn't bat an eye when I hauled her aborted foal out in the wheelbarrow, never turned to wonder what I was doing. Far enough along to be more foal than fetus, not far enough along to be her baby. With the loss of the foal, I trust God must have something else in mind.

Got (more) Snow?

Snowy Ear (Quiet Storm's)

Firecracker has icicles hanging on her forelock!

It's snowing. Again. More. I don't like.

This morning I was supposed to haul Quiet Storm up to the vet clinic for her health certificate. I don't know what time the snow began falling, but I do know there was enough on the ground when I woke up at 5 to think twice about hauling anywhere. The temps are low, 29 F, so the flakes are small and not accumulating much. But it's not stopped all day. The vet, bless his heart, came here.

I've struggled to overcome these feelings of loss over Quiet Storm. I regret letting Darling make this decision. I'm the one who put it into her head, and although I tried to talk her out of adopting last month, it wasn't because I didn't want her to sell, but rather I wanted her to sell before getting a new horse. We're both grieving right now, feeling a bit as though we're betraying our old friend. I wonder what goes through the minds of horses who are bought and sold? Do they feel confused, unloved, forgotten? The one blessing is that Stephanie will spend every spare minute with Storm when she gets there, and I know that little mustang will thrive on it.

So, depending on the weather, tomorrow is the day we'll say goodbye to our dear little friend. I keep telling myself, "One less mouth to feed, one less paddock to clean, and one less set of hooves to trim..." And at some point next summer, Firecracker will have foaled, giving Darling and I one more project to look forward to.

You Scratch My Back...

...but don't expect me to scratch your's in return.

That's become Firecracker's motto these past few days. She's graduated from the lariat to the back scratcher. I tried using the handle end of the apple picker first, hoping it would be a good substitute for the bamboo pole I don't own. However, Firecracker wanted nothing to do with it. I got a pretty strong fear response, so set it aside. Wondering what else might work, I spotted some long, thin branches that had come down in last weeks windstorm. Perfect!

There's no reason why the branch should work when the handle of the apple picker didn't. But then, there's no reasoning with the psyche of a horse, either. For whatever reason, the branch was acceptable and after a less than frantic trot around the paddock with the stick sitting upon her back, Firecracker turned to face me. I began working the branch back and forth over her shoulders and withers. She stood patiently, a bit tense, licking her lips.

Over the weekend I've managed to get into her space, providing I've got that branch. Without it, she moves away. With it, she settles down and lets me into her bubble. I've even gotten a couple of passes with my finger tips across her shoulder and down her barrel before fright takes over.

She's not as lopsided as Sunny; although she bends more easily to the left and wasn't sure about me standing on the right side, it's the right side is where she's the most comfortable after a week of my coming and going. Not as supple, but she's learning. One thing that always brings a smile to my face is that I can reach over with the branch and lift the lead rope up off the ground, and as soon as she sees it she stops and follows it. I can almost lunge her with a dead tree branch, lol!

In other mustang happenings here, Sunny's prospective owner called this weekend and she's gotten approval from her fellow land owners to bring Sunny home. We'll need to get her official paperwork filled out, of course, but we're expecting to be able to move her this week. For all the distress I went through with this girl earlier this fall, wondering just how I'd be able to give her up, I'm feeling really good. They clicked~connected. I have no doubts that this is going to work for her and am happy to see her in a good, loving home.

Another change will be happening this week as well, one that brings tears to my eyes. Quiet Storm has been sold. I've only ever cried twice before when parting company with a horse, and I never expected it to happen with this one. But it has. She's headed to a wonderful, caring home in Oregon, but the chances that we'll ever see her again range somewhere between slim and nothing. There is just something extra special about that filly; she's been my daughter's best friend, her confidant, and her esteem builder. To watch them both learn together has been a treat few people ever witness. Even City Boy's face fell when I told him her new owner's would be here on Sunday to pick her up. He considers Quiet Storm to be his puppy, his barn building buddy.

And so it is that we head into a difficult week, one that will be filled with bittersweet rides and goodbyes.

Got Spurs?

A while back Darling purchased a pair of spurs. Not because she was riding and needed a pair, but because she liked them jingling on her heels. I think I may need to get her some jingle bobs for Christmas so they jingle a bit more.

It's a good thing Darling bought those spurs, though, as Quiet Storm needs them. Trouble with a green horse and a green rider, however, is not knowing how either one of them will react. Quiet Storm is lazier than an old, dead tree stump. Put a saddle on her and instantly she grows roots that reach right down to the center of the earth. In other words, she's planted, and no matter how hard Darling whallops on her sides that filly doesn't budge.

So I'm faced with either having Darling wear her spurs or carry a riding crop. Because she's not ridden enough to have the reflexes when a horse jumps out from under you, I'm afraid she'll drop reins or, worse yet, loose her seat and come out of the saddle should Quiet Storm actually react. Then again, you never learn how to ride if you horse just plods along like a plow horse, right? It's a short fall to the ground and she's wearing that shiny new helmet...

Yesterday we thought we'd outfox Quiet Storm and have her follow along behind Jet, thinking that if one of the other horses was with her she'd be more inclined to get a little forward motion going. We weren't going far, just crossing the creek then up the trail a bit and coming home. Jet stepped right out as I led her across the water; we were headed towards Donna's field and both horses knew it. Darling and Quiet Storm came across the water with no problems, even though it's now much deeper than it had been all summer.

Rather than going to the pasture, however, I kept Jet on the trail that led along the creek for another 50 feet or so until it began to grow over from lack of care. At this point Darling pulled Quiet Storm off to the side, I turned around and we headed back. Except that Quiet Storm refused to budge once she got to where she though we ought to be turning; she wanted pasture and nothing in Darling's legs was going to convince her otherwise. So I did what any mom would do and traded horses. Darling led Jet and I climbed on that stubborn, little mustang and gave her the heel like she'd never before felt it. Her ears went back and her head came up and I gave her another one, and this time she stepped forward and walked more than willingly towards Jet.

Darling and I traded back, but once more Storm planted herself, and again I found myself on Darling's horse, this time riding across the creek and home. Once we were alongside the paddock gate, the filly thought it was quitting time. Not so! Another good kick got her headed towards the driveway where she once again protested. This time I took the end of my mecate (the horse hair reins on the bosal) and smacked her a good one on the rump. Needless to say, she was none to pleased with this sudden assault on her lazy behind. It didn't take long for her to realize forward motion was the least painful alternative and we even got a bit of trotting out of her.

At this point I put Darling back in the saddle and handed her a crop. It's always difficult to use a crop while you've got your hands on the reins at the same time. It takes some time and work to figure out how to use your 'encouragement stick' without pulling your horse to a stop at the same time, but it's something Darling is going to have to figure out quick. She got Quiet Storm to move forward, at least, and even into a bit of a trot before calling it good. It wasn't a long ride, just a minute or two, but enough for her to feel good and Storm to realize she was in training!

Darling has someone interested in buying Quiet Storm once she puts some hours on her over the winter. She's not real sure about selling, but realizes that Storm will likely be too small for her by next year. For now she can enjoy her and learn a bit more about what it's like to train a lazy horse. And she'll get to learn how to use her spurs, too!

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A Good Weekend

Do you like my new outfit?

It was a good weekend around here. No rain...well, not much. Cloudy days, but still able to work the horses.

I got a phone call from someone who'd purchased a couple of sheep from me last year. She's got Icelandic horses and had seen my article on Northwest Horse Source last month. During our conversation I told her how I'd like to find a pack saddle for Sunny to wear in order to get her accustomed to seeing something out of the corner of her right eye. I feel like it'll help her with the transition of me going from standing beside her to sitting on top of her. Nancy was thrilled to be able to tell me that she had one, complete with boxes, and that I was welcome to use it. I went over the following morning and picked up not only that, but an older bosal that she was willing to sell, a saddle pad (also selling) and borrowed a special type of pack that attaches to a western saddle. I felt like it was a major score!

Perhaps I look better in blue?

I came home and saddled Sunny up with the western saddle that she was accustomed to, then put the big blue pack on top of it. She wasn't so sure about the pack crossing over the centerline of her back, but aside from a tiny snort and half step sideways she stood very well. The pack has a hole in the front where you push the horn through. It's a small hole and as I was struggling with it I thought it was similar to giving birth to a baby's big head. Eventually it fit, and Sunny stood patiently for me while I was working on it. The back of the pack has a slit that fits over the cantle. If a horse really wanted to buck, the cantle part would pop off pretty easily and you'd be left with it hanging on only by the horn. Thankfully Sunny wasn't bothered by the thought of the pack once it was over the top of her. I put a few light weight things inside like halters and sweatshirts to make it look bigger, then let her walk around the paddock on her own.

The following day I put the real pack saddle on her back. I'd hoped to actually attach the packs, too, but found myself lacking in knowledge. She didn't mind the breeching or breast collar and stood patiently for me as my fingers fumbled to readjust the sizing. The leather was stiff from sitting for years without use and any horse would be expected to side step impatiently...especially a youngster who'd never felt such contraption on her before. But not Sunny. She stood like a rock, allowing me to cross back and forth and work the straps, not flinching when they dropped down alongside her flanks and not really bothered by it back behind her tail. As you can see from the photo at the top of the page, she was very relaxed about the whole thing.

Quiet Storm tries to help figure out how to attach the boxes.
We never did get them on the saddle.

Darling had a good weekend, too. She saddled up Quiet Storm after school on Friday and we led her down to the tree farm for a ride. Quiet Storm, however, didn't feel it was a good use of energy, just walking up a trail that didn't appear to lead to dinner or anything else exciting. She plodded along until we were about ten minutes into our walk, then planted her feet and refused to budge. She's the perfect batch for Darling as they're both on the lazy side. Darling used muscles she didn't know she had in her legs, beating the sides of that little mustang. Our ride was only about 30 minutes and ten of it was spent at a stand still. I told Darling she may want to consider selling this little horse as she was obviously too wild for a child of her inexperience to handle.

Tacking up. Note Darling's new blue helmet!

I had to re-adjust the mecate for a little more room, but it works like a charm!

I spent some time on Jet, as well, out in the yard making circles around the driveway. I really need to get her out on the trail as she's a big girl with a thirst for adventure!

If any of you are shoppers online, could I direct you to Country Supply? Their prices are good, shipping is quick (and free for orders over $49), and they'll donate 5% of your sale towards Wild Horse Rehab! I bought Darling's new helmet there, plus the new saddle pad for Jet. They're worth a look. If you shop, be sure to use our Care Code: Wildrehab.

Wild Horse Rehabilitation and Rescue Center

Cut Back Built Up Saddle Pads

So here it is. The saddle. I wasn't happy with the way it sat on her as it was too close to the withers. I knew that as soon as I sat down on it I'd be crushing her. Not a good thing for any horse, but especially not a youngster that you're just starting. It'd do no good to have her sore and crabby before getting out of the driveway.

I'd wanted to return it, but the seller didn't return my phone call. Lack of common equine courtesy; most folks would be willing to refund your money within 24 hours for something like poor fit. The fit is just too important. They'd had a second saddle for sale, so even if they didn't want to refund money, a call saying I could try the other saddle would have been nice. But since they didn't want to play by fair horsemanship rules, I began shopping again. I didn't feel bitter, just as disappointed.

City Boy saw an Aussie listed in Marysville, so on Monday evening I started the trek back down in that direction for the second time in three days. On the way I stopped at some friends and told them about my saddle dilemma. Curt suggested I hang on to the saddle as it was well made and I'd gotten a good price. Since Jet is a two year old, he said, her withers and shoulders were going to fill out and that saddle would likely fit quite well, not to mention I'd be hard pressed to find a narrower one. In the meantime he suggested I pick up a saddle pad with cut back withers and built up support in the shoulder area to lift the swell of the saddle up.

I had no idea they were making built up saddle pads. I'd considered a cut back wither but didn't think it would be enough. But with the extra lift? Yes, that should do it. So I've got one on order. You can see how closely the saddle fits over her withers in this photo. And get a load of that orange paint! I've no clue what they were doing...perhaps they'd planned on painting the entire saddle for hunting season???

The weather was pretty good all last week, giving me an opportunity to saddle up and ride Jet nearly every day. What a wonderful feeling! It's been years since I've had my own horse, and even longer since I've started one of my own. Jet is the perfect step back into the horsey world; she's taking everything in stride.

I've been keeping the horses off the pasture for fear of them totally tearing it up, not to mention it needs some time off in order to grow back for spring. But after a week of work for Jet, and since it was a nice afternoon (and since they wouldn't leave me alone inside the paddock while I was cleaning), I decided a couple hours of play time wouldn't hurt. Jet and Sunny raced back and forth and had a grand time!
Quiet Storm got tired of their hijinx. She's not one to get involved with the silly games of other horses. She's a mosey-er, preferring to take life one slow step at a time. She's also jealous of camera time! There was no way she was going to allow me to photograph those horses playing all silly like when her stunning beauty was right there for the world to see. So she stepped in front of the camera to remind me just who the star of the show really is.

That's it; watch me do my runway walk.
I am beautiful!

If you've not visited the Wild Horse Rehab site yet, or if it's been a while, please pop in and let me know what you think. I'm also working on getting a sister site done which will be the Store...definitely still a work in progress, but pop in and let me know what you think!

Desperate Horsewife

Wild Horse Calendars now available!

Which would you choose?

I woke up at about 4:30 this morning. let the dogs out. It was dark...still...quiet. The past two or three days the wind and rain have been downright deafening. But nothing this morning...all was still. And I hope it remains until the neighbor gets his tractor down to play in my muck.

I'm hoping y'all didn't misunderstand my question as a request for funds. That wasn't what it was at all; I know you've got your own horses and your hands are full. Nope, I'm looking for what would make a person comfortable with any charity, really. How best to go about building trust. And, of course, whether or not someone would still consider giving if the rescue wasn't a federal non-profit (meaning donations were tax deductible.) I suppose that ought to be the final goal or folks may wonder why you're not going for it?

In any case, I've got my short list. Take a look and let me know if you think there should be things added:

Being able to visit facility
Enough room for horses; no over crowding
Follow up visits after adoption takes place
Clean, safe environment
Lack of mud (well, within reason, I suppose, depending on weather conditions?)
Financial statement
Quarterly newsletter
Public message board or some other way of open communication

Aside from this occupying my mind nearly full time these past 48 hours, I've done nothing. At least not horse-wise. The rain is just too hard. Jet is getting along with her flock, Sunny and Quiet Storm are doing well and no one is getting beat up on either side of the fence. Sure wish it were nicer out as Sunny could benefit from some consistency when it comes to being saddled up and worked. Such is life, though, eh?

Desperate Horsewife
Wild Horse Calendars now available!
http://www.cafepress.com/mustangfever/3572746

The Barn is Coming Along

City Boy's been working on the barn these past couple of weeks and it's nearly complete. Two new stalls, 12x12, opening to individual runs. The runs will then open up into the pasture. He's also adding a sliding window to each stall on the outside so that Darling and I will be able to feed without having to walk through the runs and be malled by hungry horses.

The other day I heard an engine back across the creek so slipped through the trees to see what was happening. My neighbor was out there with his baler, so I asked if he was keeping or selling the hay. Selling, he said, so I told him not to worry about picking it up, we'd be over to get it. Now I've got a tent (one of those from Costco) full of hay. Probably won't last the winter, but sure does put a dent in it!

Today I led Quiet Storm across this field and down the road a bit to the sheep pasture. I left her there for an hour or so to graze. She's completely comfortable being down there on her own without the other horses. Sunny is the same, as is Jet. None of the girls seems to mind not being with their pasturemates. So much for being herd bound when left in a herd situation, eh? I have a friend who's totally opposed to allowing horses to live in a herd atmosphere, and while I agree that getting hurt is an issue, I think my horses disprove the myth of a herd bound horse.

Sunny is progressing nicely enough. I've caught her up a couple of times and led her across the creek for a few minutes of grazing a couple times this past week. She's always very happy to get over here; always unhappy to leave. Once the round pen gets put up I'll be able to start working on the whole saddle thing again. Maybe this time I'll have someone hold onto her when I try swinging my leg over. Sound like a plan?