A New Day, A New Ride

"Get your mare out and lunge the @%$ out of her today," came the directions from the old cowboy. Didn't need to tell me that!

We began in the arena where the sand is nice and deep. Helps wear them down just a bit, working in that sand. Heck, it wears me down trying to walk across it! I only spent about five minutes there, though, before heading to the round pen where I could work her in the smaller space. Easier to get her to lope when she has that wall, too. In the arena she doesn't quite make a full circle before trying to fade away to the outside, or dropping back into a trot. So the initial freshness gets worked in the sand so that hopefully she's thinking when we get to the round pen.

Today she didn't really feel like thinking, I guess, and chose to fly like a young colt in circles around me. Well, it was her choice, so I just kept her going a bit longer than maybe she'd have wanted to go on her own. Small circles also wear a horse down because they need to use their bodies more than in a larger circle. Once Tika decided that she'd rather trot than hand gallop tight circles, I began to ask her for stops and turns from the center of the round pen.

It was another five minutes before Curt showed up, and by now Tika was warmed up...literally. The sweat was working through that long coat of hers and was beginning to drip from locks of hair.

As Curt entered the round pen, Tika backed up. He took the rope and asked her to step up to him, but instead she lifted her head and backed away like a rope horse dragging a calf to the fire. A treat appeared, however, in the old cowboy's hand, and Tika decided that maybe she'd be friends again.

I mounted up and Curt led us a few feet forward, then walked to Tika's face and unsnapped the rope, asking her if she was going to be a good girl today and not give me a ride like she had the previous day. He rubbed her face and offered another treat, and then I asked her to move to the rail.

There was a slight edginess, but I don't know if it was her or me to be honest. Or perhaps a little of each? A couple of circles at the walk and Curt asked me to come towards him, and another treat appeared. We reversed, walked, trotted a couple of circles, stopped for a treat, then reversed again. Three or four treats later, and the treats were gone. By then Tika was looking at Curt each time we turned to see if he had something for her, and her reluctance toward him had disappeared.

I wasn't on more than ten minutes, I don't think. Perhaps not even that long. We only walked and trotted, and when she tried to pick up the pace at the trot Curt asked me to check her a bit, so I did, and she didn't worry about feeling the bit in her mouth, just responded by slowing down a wee bit.

Tika was delighted to have the saddle pulled from her dripping body once we were back in the arena, and the moment my back was turned she dropped down into the arena sand for a good bath. I think this is the equivalent to a bubble bath for me. She sure does enjoy the deep sand, as you can tell from her after bath photos!

Seven Minutes of Red

Red has been moved to a new location. I received a call last week telling me there was a stall available for sub-lease at the riding club, and I was next on the call list. Did I want it? Oh, boy howdy, did I! So into the horse trailer went our favorite uncooperative mustang and away he went.

Since arriving, Red has found there are many things in life that need dealing with. Things like wheelbarrows slipping in alongside you while you eat grain. Precocious mares in neighboring stalls swinging their hind ends at you in an attempt to gain your admiration. People's feet clunking along overhead as they walk through the hay mow, tossing hay down to your neighbor. But the most difficult thing of all to deal with? Swallows. Swallows who swoop in and out of your personal space with little regard to whether it's okay with you. They don't say a thing...they don't say whoa or easy big fella or nuthin'...they're just not there one moment, and the next they're flying between your legs. And that is nearly too much for our big red boy to handle.

Well...at least too much the first 48 hours. Since then the swallows have learned who's boss, as Red gave a double barrel kick towards one who had the limited vision to not know swooping behind a mustangs business end could be detrimental to one's health.

But all in all, he's settling in. I'm able to get the lead snapped and unsnapped from his halter much easier than before. He's had to look to me for some reassurance, though he's still a proud individual who wants to believe he can survive this life on his own terms.

Ride when the Sun Shines!

Poor Sandy. I can't even tell you when his last day off was! Luckily for him, some of our rides have been on the soft and lazy side, such as today. I loaded him up, along with Wadatika, and went to the nearby tree farm for a lazy day 25 minute ride. I gotta say, that little pony of mine is turning into one heck of a wonderful horse. Not only can he cut cows & carry Darling over 2' jumps, but he's a pony horse supreme! What do I mean?

Well, we got ten minutes into our ride and Tika decided she'd gone far enough. And she stopped. Eeeek. Brakes. Stop. No go no more. Now, I typically give a horse a moment to change their minds at times like these, and the first time Tika did just that. She thought about it, I tugged a bit, and she came forward. But only for another 20', at which point she stopped again.

This simply was not going to make the rest of our short journey very pleasurable, so I turned Sandy around to face her, pushed her around in a 180 degree turn so that she was now facing the direction we'd just come from, and had Sandy march right into her face. And backward Tika went, a good ten paces, before I asked Sandy to step around and continued down the trail. The diva didn't give it another thought...forward motion is better than backward motion any day, and the rest of the ride went without a hitch.

Sandy and Tika were not the only ones getting extra attention in the good weather. Red has had a few extra moments of me pestering him as well! Current goal for this boy is allowing me to touch him in a tight space, and getting a lead clipped on and off his halter without a knock down, drag out fight.

As you can see in the photo, there are two leads hanging from Red's halter. One is short, about 30" long. This he has on all the time. It's short enough not to be stepping on all the time, but long enough that I can reach out with the end of a stick and pick it up. These horses just crack me up, to be honest. They don't want your hand reaching in to grab the rope, but they allow a stick to lift it, and once they see it moving, they're caught! Kid you not, they'll follow that stick and lead like they can't get away. Red is no exception.

Anyway, once I've got that little rope in hand, I've been working on getting him to relax enough for me to get the long rope attached. Not that we do anything that requires a long rope most days, it's simply the motion of getting a hand that close to his ever elusive head. He reminds me so much of Steve Holt! it's not even funny, except that Steve Holt! progressed much quicker. Red needs more time, but all of his actions are similar. Neither could stand still to be touched and I'd stand in the middle while they made tight circles around me, wondering if I'd lose a toe in the process. Actually...Red is still doing this, but he's relaxing and slowing down. Steve Holt! was extremely protective of his head and face, just like Red, too. But Red is progressing, even if slowly, and the snapping of the lead is happening quicker each time.

Oh...in the pic of Red? We practiced some make believe tying today. As long as he wasn't feeling pressured, he stood there and respected the short rope draped over the stall while I moved around, taking photos of Momma horse and cleaning the paddock. Yup...he's coming around.

Two Red Heads

Red stepped up to the plate for me these past two days. Good thing, too! He followed me into the horse trailer, allowed me to scratch on him some, and then went to eating his grain while I walked out. Now, for anyone who's tried to teach a young horse to load, you know the danger of walking out of a horse trailer and having a frightened baby turn right over top of you and mow you down on it's haste to exit! Thankfully, Red did not do that.

City Boy was out at the barn with me last night, offering treats to both Tika and Red. Red wasn't too sure. After all, City Boy is a stranger and you're not supposed to take treats from strangers...are you? Well, maybe just this once....

Now...for an update on the Red Headed Fury...

With so much time being devoted to Red, Tika has been left pretty much out in the cold. City Boy, knowing how much the mare means to me, has spent some time trying to win her over. One day he came into the house, excitedly bidding me to return outdoors with him. He walked out to the field and climbed through the rails, then called to Tika who was standing some 20' away. She threw him her "I'm better than you, and bigger and faster, too" look, but when she realized the hand was outstretched, she turned with ears pricked forward and gently took the treat from his fingers.

And so it's gone with the two of them for the past two months. I'll head out to catch her and hear, "What are you doing out there with my horse?" Not that he's totally sold and convinced he cannot live without her. But he did set out to win her over, and it would appear he's come as close as she'll allow one to come with that goal. From inside her stall yesterday, she pinned her ears and began pawing the ground when she decided she wanted grain over a treat, and City Boy just chuckled. "You're not so tough anymore," he told her. And with that, she gave up.

Tika accompanied us to the Mother's Day open house at Elenbaas this past weekend. It was a terrific experience for her to get out there with all the traffic coming and going. She's had a bit of a fright, and I'm afraid I was the cause of it. Not that I've done anything big or different or gotten after her at all...she simply has a fear of turning her tail towards me when I pull her around with a rein or lead. You know...that little training thing Curt taught me, where my arm goes over the back, allowing me to stand on the left and pull the horse to the right. It helps the horse learn that they can give to that pressure even without a body being there. It's the thing I really wanted her to be able to do before I started riding.

Sadly...Tika goes into a panic when it happens. I'd really hoped that after a few turns, she'd figure it out, but the panic button gets hit each and every time. So I leave her a couple of weeks, then come back hoping she'll be better...but it never is. The last time I finally decided that it just wasn't going to work, so instead I stood at her side, picking up the lead and bending her nose toward me. She thought it meant she had to move her feet, and fast. It took her awhile to figure out that she didn't need to move, and I was happy with that.

Until the next time I saddled her up, that is. For the first time ever, Tika went broncy on me. I led her from the hitching rail into the arena, no problem, then felt the lead bouncing in my hand like a fish on a line. I turned around to see big, heaving, shoulders springing into the air while the pretty face of hers was tucked between her forelegs! What the heck? Thankfully she's super sensitive in the face, so lifting and pulling on the lead got her attention and she came back to the ground. Once in the round pen, she refused to let me stand alongside her, bolting away from me instantly. It took me awhile to realize this was a out falling from the last session, two weeks earlier.

To say the least, I was surprised, since I never ask anything of her in a forceful, pushy way, and we'd ended on a good note the last time we'd worked. But obviously she was harboring some fear. So I spent the next fifteen minutes getting her okay with me standing at her side, and putting my hand up on the saddle, letting her know that I wasn't going to ask anything of her other than to relax. I took the time to string a few days together so that the lesson would stick, and it seems to have done that. I was able to put a foot in the stirrup the other day and bounce around without her darting off.

It does cause me to ponder, however...will I be able to ask her to turn around without her being afraid? That is, after all, the whole point of the original exercise...

Forward Motion

Forward motion is always good. Unless you're asking your pony to back up, of course. Then moving forward isn't so good.

Nearly 2 years ago...we were so slow!

Sandy had a lot of forward motion today. Almost too much. Curt is out of town at a cutting and I'm the Barn Chore Lady for the weekend. This morning I hauled Sandy along so I'd be able to sneak in a ride while there. In between feeding and turning out and cleaning stalls, I saddled my pony up and found myself on the back of a mustang who definitely wanted to show me what forward motion was all about.

Wow...the boy simply would not slow down. That pretty little circle trotting shuffle of a jog was just a tad fast. And lope? What lope? Talk about a rush!

I'm pretty certain I know the problem. The hydra bull was no-where in sight, and Sandy was certain it was going to jump out at him from around a corner at any given moment. But despite his rushing about, I was able to direct him with only one hand on the reins, circles to the left, then the right, and even nice, tidy little (ever so slow) spins. It was kind of fun, to tell ya the truth.

Red ponders a treat.

A forward motion of a slower variety is taking place in Red's paddock. He had some time off while I was feeling a bit puny last weekend, so our training consisted of things that wouldn't aggravate my lungs. He discovered it was okay to eat grain from my hand, as well as began to go after treats (that's something totally foreign to a mustang; the eating of something solid like that.) I backed the horse trailer up to the paddock and he followed me into it. This is big for such a claustrophobic boy. And today I brought the western saddle blanket back out for a re-introduction. He's worn the English pad with no problem, but the western one is heavy and hard to handle for me while he's in his whirl wind of motion around me. But I did manage to convince him to slow down and stick close enough for the blanket to get popped onto his back, after which he totally relaxed.

Sunday Potluck

Over at Sunday Stills, the theme is Potluck. At first I was confused...was I supposed to host a potluck and take photos? But no, it was simply meant that we could post an array of photos of our choice. Basically, bring to the table whatever photos we wanted to share. Now, does life get any easier than that? I dun think so!

Naturally, my potluck involves horseflesh. First up, we've got a nice walk along the creek with City Boy and Sandy. We'd been on our way down to the pasture for some grazing time, and it was just too pretty with the cherry blossoms over top, wouldn't you agree?

Oh! And I've got to tell you, because this is exciting (at least to me)...Tika got her feet done! All four! And she only tried to kick out once. Sadly it was with gusto, and the farrier was not too happy about it. He took the lead and got on her case big time, which was really good for her because, you know...I don't seem to have those same issues with her and she needs to know she can get into trouble and still be friends with someone. She got over the punishment and stood nicely for him after that, and he complimented her ability to come back around and be such a good girl. He's very impressed with my wild child. Of course, she kept doing her funky lip thing through the entire process...

( I know...this potluck photo is leftovers!)

One last tidbit (okay, it reads more like a novel) that I'll leave you with is this: I've decided to stop thinking about what Red and I have not accomplished. It's far too easy to dwell on the negatives and as slow as he's moving, they tend to overshadow the positives. But a snail's pace is still progress, right? And progress he's making. The lead is back on, though in a shortened state so that it no longer drags the ground under his feet. When it first began to swing around beneath his face, he was startled and confused. But rather than running in a blind panic (which he'd have done a couple months ago) he simply bobbed his head and tried to figure it out. Yeah! Progress! And proof that he's a thinker.

Red is able to tolerate being touched on the left and the right. I can now touch him up near his poll, just behind his ears, when on his left. I ran my hand halfway to his knee yesterday. I rubbed down onto his ticklish flank. He leads nicely. When we come to a stop, I can now walk towards him, right past his face and stop alongside his neck without him turning his hip to me. He allows me into his 'head space' on the right side, too! While eating grain from a pan on my lap, he'll let me rub on his cheeks, and he's even eaten a mouthful from my hands.

Gone are the days when he used to kick out like a bronc and not stop until I feared for his well being. He's not broken into a white lather in weeks. I tied a piece of sheet to the end of my lunge whip and can drop it over his back and neck, and let it bump on his hind legs. I can throw the end of my long rope towards him and he doesn't go cuckoo; it can even bounce around his front legs without any reaction, and limited reaction when I toss it over his hindquarters to fall down his back legs (he's destined to be a roping horse, so rope training is essential!)

But Red's biggest accomplishment this weekend was the placing of the saddle blanket into his back. He allowed me to rub his left side with in, and I could even pull it off from the right side with little trouble. In fact, I put it on him, laid the rope over his back and came in to get my camera and found him standing where I'd left him, no worries, just waiting for my return.

So there you have it. A little bit of almost everything. And just so Steve Holt! doesn't feel left out...here he is. He needs a shave.

"Don't Do It!"

The Old Master

Really, Sunshine? Really? My lens was pointed towards Curt as he hollered out his warning. Ooops. Too late. Click. Done. Taken. So sorry. Poor old horse trainer, having to put up with me.

I'd finished up with my lesson when Curt asked if I wanted to ride his red mare. Sure, you bet! I love to climb up onto anything he's got to offer, and this big ol' hunk of a mac truck was bred to the hilt. Curt had owned her sire, an own son of the great Peppy San, some 20 years ago when I'd first met him. This mare is probably 15 hands, maybe 15.1, but she's so enormous that you'd think her much taller.

I gotta tell you, if I were ever to fall off the wild horse wagon, it'd be for a mare like this. And there's simply no reason for it other than she's been allowed to get away with stuff the past several years, and that stuff is the kind of stuff I love dealing with.

What stuff is that? Needless to say this girl is bred to work, and she's got a motor that simply won't quit. And I mean that, literally. She can't stand still. She walks in this little jittery, on edge, gotta hurry up gait. She'll walk in place given the chance. And jog. And lope. She's not an easy ride simply because she's thinking go go go all the time time time.

Now, I don't enjoy the ride she's offering, but I LOVE showing her how to relax. It's the greatest thing ever! Some folks can't stand it. They want to get on and work the horse, thinking they can wear it out. You can't wear down a horse like this, though. You've got to change the approach. This girl has a mind, so asking her to walk circles, stop, back, walk some more, and staying quiet while you're doing it rather than snatching and getting upset when she tries to bounce off the wall is very important. Yesterday I rode for close to an hour, and she worked up quite a sweat despite the fact that we did more walking than anything else. It caused her nerves to explode inside, but on the outside? Her head began to drop and she started to relax, coming down from her parade walk to an almost normal horse gait.

It.
Was.
Awesome!

Equally awesome to me were Curt's words of encouragement, telling me this is just what she needs, someone who's quiet up there on her back and not getting upset with her when she tries to do the stuff she does. Means the world to me that the old master feels confident enough to let me ride these horses for him.

This mare had been started by Curt several years ago and has, for the most part, been hanging out as a pasture pet with her owner. As I said, she's got a motor, and her owner didn't seem to mind much when she'd dance her little dance (it's kinda fun for some folks, eh?), but he'd like his granddaughter to be able to ride her now, so she's back in for a tune up. I'm just thrilled to be able to be part of that process, even if it's only once a week when I can squeeze in a little extra time after a lesson.

This mare, Sandy, Red, Tika...they've all got that same sort of 'stuff' that seems to call to me. A little insecure, highly intelligent, unsure of how to relax. That's the game I love to play.

Meanwhile, back at the Mudpuddle...

He doesn't even look like the same horse, now that he's 98% free of his mud. I can't tell you how pleased I am with Red's progress this week. It's been a long, slow, haul but finally....finally!...I'm seeing a horse who's beginning to trust.

Last weekend was slow. No horse activity, really, though I did make a point of going out to be with Red if only briefly to offer him grain. Last Thursday he discovered the sweet taste; prior to that, all grain offered had become chicken feed. The chickens were happy, of course, but I'd have rathered Red be eating it. And on Thursday he did...though most still fell from his lips and the hens were quite opportunistic. But the fact that those soft lips of his dove back in for another taste was the start of something wonderful, for over the next few days he began to associate me with his drug of choice...Equibalance grain.

Something else of importance happened for Red this past weekend as well. He caught his snap on the lead in such a manner that he suddenly found himself free of that nuisance. After finally being able to scratch both the left and right sides of his body, I now found myself working freestyle. Nothing helps you find the holes in your training faster than a loose horse, and thankfully all the ground work up until then was paying off. Red has progressed more this past week than ever! Oh...I wasn't able to touch the right side anymore, but he was facing up, walking toward me, and while lunging at liberty his direction changes from left to right and back again were absolutely flawless.

Fear still rules his life. There are times I find myself entertaining the thought of discouragement, but then I remember how this athletic boy sailed over a 7' fence at the corrals in an effort to escape. I remember him rearing so violently in the chutes that I was afraid he was going to smack poor Tom in the face and knock him out...and how I'd tucked my head into the office door to tell them half jokingly (and half not) that I changed my mind and wanted a different one! This is what puts it into perspective for me.

Today, Red worked up the nerve to step in and offer his shoulder to me for scratching. While standing in the center of the round pen, his head tucked and neck arched, bobbing his face in emotional discomfort, he sidepassed to me for some rubbing and scratching. Typically, he uses the fence as a security blanket, always his head is to the rail and his hip to me, which is uncomfortable given the strong kicks this boy can offer. The offering of the shoulder, then, from the center of the round pen, was a show of how much this horse truly wants to be a partner.

All good things take time. A good meal...a good wine...a good horse. Red is so intelligent and curious. He wants desperately to be friends, and is totally worth the wait to allow that to happen. I'm excited to see what the coming week brings now that he's beginning to reconcile himself to life with humans.

Okay, I Officially Don't Get It

What's all this blogger talk about moving from FPT? When I sign in under my Desperate Horsewife account, it tells me I need to act fast. But sign in under my other account, and there's no reference at all to needing to make changes. What gives? Do any of my fellow bloggers wish to help out this slightly confused horsewife?

Yesterday I woke to the sound of pounding rain. Imagine my surprise when I actually climbed from my bed and looked outside to see snow! By afternoon the skies were clear and the wind was blowing a bone chilling breeze through the valley. Dusk came early with more rain spitting clouds. Truly the nuttiest weather we've seen in a very long time.

Last week Red had both a breakthrough, and a set back. A breakthrough in the fact that I was able to rub and scratch him on both sides of his body. The set back came when over the weekend he managed to get the snap undone on his lead, which then disconnected it from his halter. Since he's not once willingly come up to me, and since he's beyond sensitive about having my hand anywhere ahead of his shoulder (meaning...no touchie the facie, please), getting the lead back on would be a daunting task.

Red is no longer the muddy mess you see here!

Despite his lack of willingness to give up on some of his fears, Red is a far sight better than Sunny ever was her first few months here with me. He's decided he likes the taste of grain, so while I wasn't doing much physically with the horses last weekend, I did make the physical appearance with the tasty treat, and he began to associate me with something good and non-pressuring.

More on Red later (like...when Darling gets the photos uploaded!)

Sandy & I headed down to Curt's on Wednesday for our lesson. Wanted to see just how much Sandy could do on his own this time, so we dropped the reins and Curt went slow, working on the basics such as the stop and turns. I was pretty pleased. His turns to the right are sharper than to the left, but he's got it pretty much figured out. I still need to work on getting my timing a bit more on target when it comes to encouraging him to look at the bull when we stop, and checking him once we get the turn (so he doesn't race to the other end before the bull gets there!)

Watching the video put a smile on my face. Thought I was pretty hot stuff...till Darling came along on Rose and upstaged me...

Red Makes Headway

Red is finally making some progress. After being away 4 days I wasn't sure where we'd be when I came home, but he didn't loose ground (though...what ground had we covered that could be lost?) On Monday morning he finally let me touch him for the first time. A full month...and finally I got to touch him.

The video is long. No fun music, just the crunching of rock beneath his feet. He's turning left and right for me, allowing me to get a little closer and rub on his back. That's the only place I've been allowed to touch before he goes bolting off.

Biggest, most exciting thing from this video was that he stopped while moving to the right. That's his tough side, and with the end of the lunge whip resting on his back, he managed to come to a complete stop three times. HUGE strides for him.

And by last night? Well, I got to scratch shoulder an withers. This is a very sensitive area for Red; when the lunge whip touches him there, he bolts in panic. So I was thrilled when for just a moment he let his guard down and his lips quivered with enjoyment as I scratched. Then he spotted a little clump of hair falling to the ground, and off he went!

You may need to let the video buffer a little bit before playing as it tends to stop for brief moments. It's also seven minutes long, which can be a bit tedious I suppose, but it gives a good idea of where we're at for those who are interested.

I've also got Tika news...I sat on her yesterday. Video of that experience tomorrow!

The Red Headed Fury

It's been a month of fear and frustration with my dear Wadatika. Something so deep and dark that I dared not speak it out loud...at least not type it where eyes outside of my own little real life realm would know.

While I was away at Color Fest, I called home and City Boy told me that Tika had come charging at him. He stood his ground, though, and she backed off. Such a wave of relief for me, since Tika has not taken much to City Boy. She is not a horse who easily makes new friends. The fact that she couldn't buffalo him out of her space was a very positive step in the right direction.

Or so it would have appeared...

In a call later that night, City Boy had a far different tale to tell. That afternoon he'd gone out with a treat, hoping to entice the red headed diva into his space. Tika, however, is not easily swayed by bribes, and she let City Boy know that in no uncertain terms as she not only charged, but reared and struck out at a him, missing his head by just inches. Thankfully, he had a fence between himself and her, that being the only thing that kept her from making contact. So close was she, in fact, that as she came back down to the ground, one of her hooves made contact with the fence rails and for a split second City Boy wondered how he would ever manage to get this enraged horse free. A second wave of thankfulness hit when she managed to pull herself free of the rails.

There was no mistaking City Boy's dislike of this current turn of events. He did not feel safe around Tika...nor did he think it safe for others to come near her when I was not there.

And this has been weighing heavily on my mind for a month. What to do about the horse who can't get along with her caretakers? If I'm present, she does well. If I'm not in the picture...well, I certainly never expected her to launch into attack mode. This was most defintely an issue that would require some serious thought and attention.



My problems were these:

I love this mare, and she's very affectionate with me, of that there is no doubt. She's relaxed, dropping her head down, wrapping her long neck around me, and blowing softly into my face. Parting with her would be heartbreaking...for both of us.

I could not in good conscience send her to another home. It would not only feel as though I was betraying her, but she could seriously injure someone else, and I surely did not want that happening.

Sending her back to the corrals seemed the only option (aside from keeping her)...but that also poses a problem. What if someone were to adopt her? I'm not saying no one else could ever handle her...but what if she ended up with some rough, tough, don't mess with me bloke? What if he challenged her, and she accepted? Or worse, what if she ended up with a wimp? The corrals, while safe on the surface, could pose a greater danger than either of the other two options, both for Tika and potential adopters.

Option number four waved out there in the back of my mind, not wanting to gain attention, but needing to suggest the one answer that solved the problem. Euthanasia...

Oh, just don't even go there with me, please.

I came home from Color Fest, dark images swirling about in my mind mixed with thoughts and dreams of all that could have been with my girl. How does one deal with a one person horse? A horse that isn't simply grumpy or difficult to ride, or too shy to come out and play, but rather a man eating, red headed fury?

It was with a heavy heart that I walked out into the round pen on Monday morning. Tika lifted her head and walked halfway to me, then swished and swayed and trotted a couple of circles around me, ears pinned, daring me to make her do my bidding. I watched for a moment, then moved towards her hindquarters. She turned and faced up, ears up, eyes watching intently.

"Come here, baby girl," I whispered, and we closed the gap together. My fingers slipped down her face gently, and my body leaned into hers, my face buried deep into her winter coat. Her head came around in her signature hug and we stood quietly. She'd missed me as much as I'd missed her. What on earth were we going to do?

Fishing is a lot like Gentling Mustangs

When I was a kid my dad would haul me down to the local fishing pond on derby day, fix up my pole with a Dick Knight spinner, and off to the races I'd go. I'd cast and reel it in, cast and reel in, cast, feel the bite, set the hook, and reel in. Over and over until my limit was reached. It was exhilarating. I loved the constant motion, and I was always in the prizes, so obviously what I was doing was right, right?

Other kids? Well, some used worms and some sat there with bobbers, waiting for the fish to strike. Of course, with a bobber you had to watch the little air filled ball disappear beneath the surface of the water before you picked up your pole and set the hook. Slow. Much too slow. And it had to be wrong, right? I mean...my hand was on the pole when that fish hit, and those kids with poles resting on little forked sticks had to bend down and pick up that pole before they could set that hook. Obviously, my way was superior.

Obviously.

Yeah, like a bobber would even work in that water.

As I grew older I began to realize that each fisherman had his own style, and the style that fit each fisherman may be a little different than it was for the next. Some people catch fish just fine with that bobber. Some can't sit still and need to cast that spinner out there again and again. And then there are those who can't settle on a method...the ones who start with a bobber, switch the spinner and then run to the store and pick up some power bait.

When it comes to gentling horses, I tend to be a lot like that last fisherman. The one who switches gears and can't quite seem to find the right speed to work at. I know...crazy! Look at all the horses who've come through here, right? And by and large, I've done well by them. And with each horse, I've learned a little more and become a bit more confident with the way I've approached them. And this is a good thing. It brings me closer to my own style.

Sandy's style gets squeegeed.

I have always loved my rope the best, but after watching many of Kitty Lauman's videos with Ranger and her pole, I found a great appreciation for that method and have found that using one of my little alder trees, or perhaps the long handle of a mop...or even my friend the 4' garden rake (jokingly known as the face rake) has added a new dimension to my gentling.

But I've come across a horse who's stopped me in my tracks. A horse who does not like spinners or power bait or the shifting of gimmicks or tools. And I've felt as though I've lost ground.

Although, not really. I mean...he leads. And rather nicely, too. He backs between poles and walks through gates and I can stop and open up the panels between paddocks and lead him through the maze fairly comfortably.

So what's the problem, then? Why am I second guessing my 'style'?

Curt has always said, in his kinda quiet cowboy way, "I always find a hand works best, but you go ahead and use whatever works for you." I always thought he meant that. Because obviously...the rope and the pole (or mop or rake) was getting me into the space of my wild ones. But then came Red. And Red does not want to be touched with a rake or a mop or a pole or a rope.

Sometimes I think Red looks like me as though I'm Sam I Am. That Sam I Am, that Sam I Am, I do not like that Sam I Am. I do not like her with a rope, or with a mop or with a pole...

Red is a smart boy, of that there is no doubt. He's simply not into gimmicks. He's fearful of those objects reaching towards him and he simply is not ready to give in. He's making me wait. He wants me to fish with a bobber...my absolute worst nightmare as a fisherman.

And it has suddenly dawned on me that I ought to have been listening to Curt all along. Why on earth had I not? I should know better by now. Curt is always right. So much for round pens, square pens, and all the natural horsemanship wisdom. Good horsemanship, again, wins out.

"Better feed him," Curt said. Okay. I'll feed him.

Alongside Red's stall is Jethro, one of the lambs from last spring. I stood just outside of Jethro's stall and fed him through the panel where Red could see. Red watched intently, and finally decided to come and snatch a bit of hay for himself. He backed away and munched, then came forward again. At one point, his nose 'accidentally' moved up my arm to get a good sniff. It wasn't much, just a fish bouncing the bait around at the end of my line. But eventually he'll go for it, and he'll be mine.

It's a Girl Thang, Baby!

I just finished reading Pony Girl's post on mares, and had to smile.

I've only adopted mares here. Oh, sure, I adopted Steve Holt! and Sandy, but they were assigned to me and of course they were difficult to part with after spending 90 days with them. I'd never have selected a gelding to train for myself though, and while I love them both...they're not girls. Girls have something that boys haven't got. Some magical little spark deep down.

Snotty? Cranky? Difficult? Yup, some times. But there's a cunning character that goes along with it. The boys can be goofy and playful and fun...but the girls will take care of you. There's an autopilot with a mare that I've not found in the geldings. Let them mother you, and they will. They'll tell you where you should be standing, where you oughtn't be sitting, and basically boss you every which way. But when the chips are down, they'll out perform and out think a gelding any day of the week.

Tika has most definitely told me where to go on more than one occasion. She's pinned her ears and flashed her teeth, and the girl definitely knows how to give some lip! But I've also experienced those tender moments...moments when I've wondered, as she's shielded me from the blowing wind with her neck curved around my body, does she miss her foal? Because theres no mistaking that maternal instinct as she moves in close and wraps herself around you.

Yes, I'm definitely a mare lover. Give me Mare-itude any day. Or as we call it around here, Tika-tude!

I hit the 100,000 visitor mark!

I'd better set up some golden arches or something...

Or perhaps we'll just talk about the golden boy instead, eh?


Look, they've got me in jail!

Apple Pony wasn't too certain he wanted to get back into the horse trailer after his long ride here last month, but a bit of grain in a big red scoop placed strategically in front of his nose did the trick. We spent a few days climbing in and out without doing much of anything else. Then I decided it was time to let him stand tied...and he disagreed.

Apple Pony is just too big to have a disagreement with, especially when you're inside a horse trailer together. Thankfully, he's not a full blown panic sort of chap, and he backs out of a horse trailer rather than taking you out with his head as he spins towards an exit. So our disagreement didn't end tragically, but it did end with him winning, and that's not something I'm fond of.

Thinking cap in place, I hung a hay bag inside the trailer a few days later and once again began coaxing the boy inside with me. At first he wasn't sure, and would back out almost immediately, but before long he was comfortable and stood patiently munching alfalfa while I quickly tied him, shut the divider, and grabbed my camera for the photo. As you can see, he had no qualms. The doors shut and into the cab of the truck I slipped, and we were off.

Off? Off to where? Just a quick trip around the block. And the golden boy's face when we climbed out in the same place we'd taken off from held a very puzzled expression. Certainly not what he'd expected, but it's what he got. You see, before I begin hauling him to arenas next week, I want to know I can get him back into the trailer after a ride, so short and sweet trips with no expectations are in order beforehand.

Naturally, Apple Pony expected to be rewarded for a job well done.

Apple Pony is officially for sale. We'll get some video of him next week traveling under saddle so you can see how he moves. Being that I'm not a dressage person, or have many contacts in that field, you may need to help me with determining a decent price for this boy. His personality is priceless, and he smells like popcorn if that helps at all.

I think Darling is Falling...

...in love!

Apple Pony is doing very well. He's become a big softie, allowing people to walk right up to him despite halters and lead ropes being in their hands. Yesterday was the first day Darling worked at all with him, and of course she had to have a little video fun along the way.

Apple Pony's owner has indicated that, to the right home, she'd be willing to sell. Darling says the perfect home is one who would continue to board him here so she can play with him. While I am not a Parelli person, I do believe Apple Pony would adapt very quickly to all the game playing. He's super personable, and as I said before, he's got a big, dreamy trot quite suitable for dressage. If you know of someone looking, send them this way!

Goin' Out With My Spurs On

Our first trip to Burns we spotted a man decked to the hilt looking all the part of a 50's Hollywood Cowboy as he strutted across the road and into...the fabric store? Certainly you wouldn't have seen John Wayne doing that. Or would you? After all, this guy was wearing his work clothes, from cowboy hat to jingle bobs, he was the real deal and in the dusty high desert ranch town he was not one bit out of place.

In my town, people do not dress the part of the old west, but rather you'll see them in their business suits or dresses as they scurry about from desk job to the counter at the bank to the line at Starbuck's. Except me that is. I go out with my spurs on. Heck, it's what I wear when I go to work, so that's what I've got on when I head out to do business. Pink boots and pretty little spurs. Maybe I need to invest in a wild rag to go with?

This has been a rough couple of weeks here for me. Typically when I get a cold, it's a 48 hour deal. They can get as nasty as all get out in that 48 hours, but by day three I've bounced back and am kicking harder than ever. But not this time. My throat still burns and there's a mild fever that floats in and out with it. I suspect the fever is more humidity related than anything; it's barely there and most often found after I come in from working with the horses. A recent trip to the Dr confirmed there is nothing I can take; this is viral and attacking the vocal cords, so suffer through is the best I can do. Hence, I've severely limited my phone calls.

I've also limited my time with the new trainees in an effort to heal a bit sooner, rather than drag this thing on and on. I actually took the entire weekend off, something I'm not prone to doing, and I've cut my training back to once a day, or sometimes twice, rather than working them 3 times a day. My goal is to keep at it just enough to not lose anything we've gained up until now.

Dakota is leading, a bit shyly, but willingly in his small paddock. If I'm patient and keep my back to him, he'll come up and investigate, wiggling his lips on my shoulder in an attempt to familiarize himself with me. I've never had a horse who's not been gelded until age 4; he's different than the others. Gentle, quiet, but there's a power there that I don't want to awaken...at least not in a defensive manner, so we're taking things a bit slower, and I'm happy with where he is. It won't be long before he's relaxed and comfy with people.

Addie struggles still just a bit, but I've been able to scratch both sides of her at the shoulder, and today she decided it was okay to move in a forward fashion when I was 'leading' her. Typically she plants those big hind feet of hers and pivots, but nothing more. She's the most fearful of the bunch, even though I was able to touch her first. She freezes, but then jumps, so I need to be careful. I've decided to let her drag a line with her so she can learn to give when she steps on it. Much easier when they teach themselves.

Denny...oh, what a boy he is! As previously mentioned, I can nearly climb all over his right side, but he's not comfortable withe me on his left. Although~I did manage to get him lunging just 6-7 feet from me with his left side facing me. He didn't like it and made several get away attempts, but he's coming around. He's also not fond of being touched on his face, so we're working at that. He did, however, figure out the leading thing last night.

Once they get to this point, things do tend to move along. A lot will depend on my 'recovery' though. Feels funny to say that as I'm not really sick...just tired (probably increased with the heat/humidity) and feeling crummy due to the sore throat. Hopefully I can shake this in the next day or two, because...

The big Youth & Yearlings event is this weekend! I know, I know...3 months have passed and now it's time for the kids to show off what they've learned, and most will be saying goodbye to their dear little friends. If you're in the area, please come out and support them at Black Raven in Arlington.

Can't Beat The Heat...

...but, OH, how I wish I could!

While the numbers have not been high, the humidity is killing me. I fare poorly when it's damp outside, and it makes it difficult to train, both for me and the horse. Top this off with the fact that I've come down with the creeping crud and you've got one horsewife desperate for feeling better on top of cooler, or at least drier, weather.

Despite the heat and sore throat issues, I plus slowly along with my three new charges. They're all such good minded horses, yet all with distinct personalities. Take Denny, for example. He's two, a bit flighty, and very right sided. He refuses to allow me onto his right side at this point. He flies, scampers and scoots to avoid eye contact. That's okay, it's not like I've not done this before, first with Sunny and more recently with Willow.

Despite not being able to do much at all from the left, I can work my way into his space from the right. I even hauled my camera out the other morning to get pictures of me scratching his back. I don't know why...it's not like it's all that interesting, but maybe his mom and dad want to see his first scratching session? What really impressed me with Denny recently was how I was able to walk around the back end of him and scratch all over his hips without him feeling the need to defend himself. There is absolutely zero kick in this boy, no matter how uncomfortable he's been in his new surroundings and being hounded and tormented by the lady with the big long rope.

"Look, ma! She's touching me!"

Addie, the big, drafty type mare, is another quiet, good minded girl. Unlike Denny, she doesn't have an overt preference for one side of the other. Yes, she's a bit stronger on her left, but she's allowing me into her bubble on both sides and I've gotten my fingers into that matted, snarly mane of hers to begin untangling the witch knots. She's not happy about it, mind you, but she tolerates me. Where Denny allows me to rub all over his hips (or hip, as it would be), Addie hits the panic button when my hands move anywhere away from the shoulder and neck area.

Well, that's not entirely true...I can work my way up to her ears if I'm on the left side. And I've gotten the lead snapped to her halter in an effort to begin leading lessons. A lesson that Addie has taught me, is that you really can't drag a draft horse. They've got to want to move of their own accord!

And then there's Dakota. Look! You can see his eye peeking out from behind that sheepdog forelock of his! And what a soft eye it is, too.

Dakota is a special case. He's leery of people, but curious. In most ways he doesn't appear to be making the headway that the other two are. I've not touched him yet, and in fact he's barely been brave enough to reach out and sniff my fingers but once or twice. He's slow moving, quiet, cautious and reserved. He's always facing me when I'm out with him. I've not used my rope much with this boy, it doesn't seem like the right tool for him. Is there a reason for this decision? I don't know...it just doesn't feel right, and sometimes that's all I can go on, the gut feeling. I don't want to do anything that will create fear or aggression.

Of course, sometimes I wonder if using my pole isn't going to be seen as a threat. He arches his neck and blows, looking at the pole as it approaches, sometimes taking a step backwards, sometimes lifting a mighty hoof into the air to ask me to back off the pressure, and sometimes he just stands there and lets me rub and scratch his neck while standing in front of him.

Like Sandy, this is where Dakota likes his people to be; right in front of him. But last night he softened up just a little bit and allowed me to step off to his left side just a bit more while working the pole up his neck and beneath his mane. Man, what a mane! It's crazy thick and tangled into a couple of serious dreads. Must be mighty itchy under there...or at least that's what I'm hoping as I begin inching my way closer to him.

While Dakota is the most protective of his body, he's also the only one of the three to be watching me with both eyes. He's not afraid, but very polite. Not once have his ears gone back while I've been in with him. He's the only one of the three dragging a lead, and when I pick it up, he's very light at the end of it and will follow me fairly willingly in cirlces, both left and right, as well as straight ahead. Neither of the other two is wanting to lead at this point. They'll follow the pressure when I pull, but they're heavy. Dakota actually leads.

He may be part sheep dog.

I see a few clouds outside. Little, fluffy white clouds. I sure hope this means just a wee bit cooler weather ahead. I simply cannot get out there and work these horses like I ought to when it's so muggy. Makes it more difficult to get well when I'm sweating like that.

Why do they call it sweating like a pig, anyway? Pigs don't sweat...

Oh, never mind my rambling mind and fingers. Back to work I go!

1st Time Horse Owner Adopts Wild Mustang

Recipe for disaster? According to many, yes. But it's a scenario that gets played out over and over again.

She's never owned a horse before.

She visits the Wild Horse Corrals.

"That one's a pretty one."


You're cringing, aren't you? Admit it!

A few weeks ago I received an email from someone in the Puget Sound region asking if I'd be willing to take in her mare. She tells me the story; she visited the corrals, spotted the lovely buttermilk buckskin, and had to have her. The lovely mare was five years old...and bred, of course. The following spring this new to horses owner found herself with a black colt alongside the now six year old mare.

Of course, I've long advocated that an open mind and willingness to learn will get a newbie in the horse world farther than a closed minded person with 40 years of horsing around behind them. I asked a few questions, wondering just what I was going to be faced with. The mare had been ridden, but the owner was just to that spot where she couldn't really progress. The mare was a bit bracey, she said, and had gotten in a bit of a habit of racing off when they were cantering down a trail.

Well...okay. Let's see what we can do.

The owner came out to visit me and see where her pretty little mare would be living, and then said she'd like me to take both of her horses, if I could.

Well...okay, let's give it a try.

And so it came to pass that Jupiter, a pretty buttermilk buckskin mare (now 11 years old) and her black four year old son have come to live with me for a month in hopes of getting a bit of an education.

The first thing I'll tell you is that these two horses have exceeded my every expectation. They unloaded from the trailer just as nicely as any professionally trained horse would...or better. Their ground manners are impeccable and they respond willingly to each request to move this way or that.

The biggest hang up they've both got is a fear of ropes dragging around their legs. Being that I've got long split reins that hang down past the elbows, this simply will not do. So this is where we began our lessons.

In addition, Jupiter has never worn a bit. Stubborn, that sweet looking girl is! She clamps her teeth tight and refuses to let her muzzle be handled. Or at least, that was her plan. Persistence has paid off on my end. I just stand there at her head and refuse to give up, rubbing her muzzle and eventually slipping fingers inside her mouth. She threw her head around quite a bit at the thought of the bit, so I substituted her rope lead. Much softer on the teeth and surely safer for me when she began flinging her face into the air.

A few days of working without the bit and as of yesterday it's slipping in and out. She plays with it a lot, of course, as is only natural for any horse just introduced to a bit. I stood on her left side, lifted up the right rein and began playing with direct pressure, pulling her nose to the right until she began to turn around. Her hips slipped under my arm and her tail swished past my body as she followed the pressure of the rein, stopping when she found herself facing me.

She appeared a bit stiffer to the left than right, so I tied the left rein to the saddle. Not tight, just a bit of tension. The right rein was left loose so that she could tip her nose to the left easily.

This was not an exercise Jupiter liked, but as I walked away and behind her, she learned to follow and that giving to the pressure was easier than fighting it. Before long she was standing contentedly with her nose tipped just enough to avoid the pull, which is exactly what I wanted her to do.

Up until now, Jupiter's mom has ridden in one of those rope halters tied with a rope in mecate fashion. This is a great way to start a young horse, but one of the things Jupiter's mom wanted was support in transitioning to a bit. This is a smart, smart move on her part. An educated horse is one that will have more options in it's life. We can all say we'll keep our horses forever, but for some of us, forever for us isn't the life of the horse. We need to give them every opportunity to be successful in life should we find ourselves in a position of needing to rehome them.

Jupiter learned a lot today. I rode her with the bit and asked her to give to a pressure she's never felt before. At first she tried to avoid me, but we soon worked out the sticky gears and were trotting circles, giving to the bit, stopping nicely and even, just a little, bending around the leg. And on top of that, she wasn't frightened of the long reins slapping about her elbows and legs.

With Sandy on Hold...

...Jet has found herself under saddle a bit more frequently than she'd like.

This past week the sun has been out and it's been too pretty to just hang out at the round pen, so I've been saddling Jet up and heading up the trail. This was working well until I got it in my mind to travel to Ogallala one day.

Really, I had no clue where Ogallala might be until I mentioned it to others who were quite taken aback that I could ask such a thing. Seems I missed out on a lot by not watching Lonesome Dove...Be that as it may, the likelihood of actually making it 1450 miles to Nebraska (which, for those of you who are as clueless as me, is where Ogallala is...) was pretty slim. Jet wasn't really certain she wanted to go to Ogallala. Her nerves were getting the better of her, but she trudged along fairly well for the most part. Through big trees, tall ferns and even over a scary wood bridge.

But eventually she was done. And I mean done! We started up the face of the mountain (still in the trees) and as it became narrower, she became grouchier and touchier than she'd ever been. Upon finding a place with room to head back for home, she gladly threw her body around and raced down the hill at a break-neck trot. Had me worried, she did, as there was little reasoning with her once those nerves took over. I must admit I lost a bit of horsemanship with her that day and when we got to the bottom in one piece I decided to head her straight back up that hill, at least the lower level. She, however, had other ideas and a small battle ensued where she reared and I hung on, then turned her back again and encountered yet another protest. But she met with my heels and took off briskly up the lower portion of the hill, and this time when we turned around it was to walk down.

She was thankful for the hitching post we found down below as it offered her an opportunity to stand and catch her breath as I took her picture and answered my cell phone to chat with someone who's interested in adopting a horse. I must admit I nearly sold them Miss Alpo at that moment, but instead talked about Joe. When I climbed back on Jet, she was still edgy and nervous about our long ride in unfamiliar territory, which made for an interesting ride home.

The following day I opted to head up the old familiar trail, but again she decided to challenge me. This time there was nothing nervous in it, just a three year old tantrum at the top of a steep hill, which I so did not need. More loss of horsemanship skills as I behaved like I've not behaved with a horse since I was 12. I dismounted this time as we weren't in a location which offered me much choice; I gave her a good smack with the end of the reins and stomped up the rest of the hill of foot, fuming with each thud of the boots, and when I climbed back on board she was forced to put it into high gear straight away.

By the time we made it back down to the foot of the hill she and I were back on good terms. However, I noticed the next morning that she had some galling from the cinch which undoubtedly contributed to her cranky behavior the past two rides.

So now I've got two horses on bed rest. Sandy's eye is healing up, but his pupil is still quite dilated which makes it impossible to head out on these sunny days. I've had him out on a couple of short (very short) evening jaunts of five or ten minutes just so he can start tuning up again for when he's ready. Jet will have to wait until I can afford a sheepskin cinch, as both the string cinch and felt have irritated her sensitive skin.

Hey, Dude...wanna go for a ride?

Ol' Broke Pony

For the past couple of months Dude has been on stand by as I've headed up into the hills with Jet or Sandy. He's stood in his paddock as I've pulled out other mustangs and halter broken them for their new owners. And he waited around while Darling and I went to the fair without him. In that time he's gone from being unsure about people getting into his personal space to what we like to call a pocket pony. He follows around like a big pest and you need to watch your toes or you may find him standing on them in an effort to get your attention. Dude is a people horse.

With the fair over and the excess horses moving out, it's time for me to shift my attention to Dude's training so that he'll be ready in the spring for Darling to begin riding. On Monday I drug my trusty rope out into the round pen with him, did a bit of lunging and then wrapped the rope around his belly to see what he thought about the pressure.

Dude...no problemo!

The pressure didn't bother him. He let me reach my arm under his belly without getting at all goosey about it and wasn't bothered by the feel of the rope cinching up. The saddle pad slipped up without any issue. So out came the old, beat up, made in Mexico saddle that has taken a licking and kept on ticking.

Up and down, up and down, I tossed it over his back. Three times, then leading him around while I carried it in my arms. Then three times more, and back to leading. Never up there long enough for him to think about it. At first he thought me a bit looney to be putting that up there, but by the third set of up and downs, he was no longer caring, so I led him in a small circle. No cinch to hold it in place, just the weight of something up there.

Dude, you gotta be kidding me! Piece of cake, man!

The following morning (without my camera girl present) I once again tossed the saddle onto Dude's back. This time I added the cinch, and other than a few unsure steps backwards as I began to tighten it, he didn't offer up any objections. I lunged him at a walk and trot both directions, and the feel of the girth beneath his belly didn't appear to give him any grief. At this rate it won't be long before this little guy's an old broke pony!