Spotty Horse News

One more thing..

2012-01-29T09:15:00.000-08:00

In my excitement over the journey we took yesterday, I neglected to mention one tiny thing. Or not so tiny. Maybe a little huge for us, actually.

By the end of the session, I got a few steps of a sittable trot from my horse. And he got a few steps of a not bouncing rider.

Even better, at least one of us could feel the difference. And what a nice difference it was.

More later. It's Katie and Forrest's turn today and as I'll be unencumbered by horses, I can watch someone else without distraction. More photos and maybe some video later!

Oh the things we can learn

2012-01-28T17:37:00.000-08:00

Calabar and me, getting ready to learn a few things.

I have had some formal training and lessons. I have also held on for dear life as my horse chased a mechanical cow or galloped up a trail, smiling the whole time. There is a balance in between, I think, and it amazes me sometimes how much I don't know about riding. We're talking basic fundamentals, really. Do this, expect this movement. Do that, expect some other movement. What?

Calabar may know even less than I do, and has not always been willing to learn. Control the situation, yes; learn, no. But something has happened along our journey. He is trying to learn (most days, anyway), now, even when he is entirely unsure what it is I'm asking.

This all crystallized a little more at another clinic today with Ellen Eckstein.

We had another mildly rocky start--including Calabar nearly pulling himself loose from the trailer when Lena got out of sight--but what we all learned was so worth it. Even the bout of breakfast-impeding nerves I fought before even leaving the house.

I'll cover the fact that our horses are totally herd-bound later, but let's just say we worked through Calabar nearly getting loose, then leaping above the ground before settling down, all while Lena Rey called to him during most of her lesson.

Steve and Lena had a great lesson, working on position for both of them. Lena is allowed to have her big, beautiful head up as she canters as it gives her the ability to balance herself and drive with her hind end. I'm sure there was more, but I was busy with the brown horse and missed most of it--including some bucking, apparently. All I saw was the beautifully balanced canter at the end and a happy horse and rider. There are pictures, but they are being edited by a far more talented photographer than I and will be posted later.

Then it was Bar's and my turn. He had settled way down from his antics and was standing mildly at the side of the ring waiting to see what was next.

What was next was Jess learning to tell Calabar what to do with his body. My goal was to learn how to ride his trot. It turns out we both had lots of things to learn. It's not that I just had to learn to ride his trot, I had to learn to teach him how to trot. He trots off his front end, propelling me out of his saddle with every step. It's kind of a post, but not really, and is rather impossible to ride--let alone ride well. We won't even talk about sitting it.

Of course, I didn't know that was what the problem was. I thought it was all me and my inability to become one with the jackhammer trot.

Ellen helped me see that perhaps there was another path we could travel, this horse and me.

Bridging the reins in one hand, directing with both inside and outside rein--WITHOUT over(t) steering. Now switch directions. Then we tossed in a Dressage whip to get a little more life out of my horse. (WHAT?!)

I know. I had the same fears. If I smack him, how long will it take me to hit the ground? It turns out... he needed smacking. Really? This horse was just bouncing straight up in the air and dancing, why would he need an extra push? Oh. Because he has no idea what to do with those hind legs. And no idea how to turn from behind. And I have no idea how to tell him to do these things. Or I didn't.

I do now. And it didn't even take more than one good smack. Maybe two. And many, many tiny circles in both directions. "Stop neck reining," said Ellen--more than once, I might add. Apparently, muscling a horse through a turn is not the most effective technique. I've had instructors tell me to use the outside rein to counter balance, but Ellen said, "Don't cross it over his withers." OH! That's what that meant. Hear the little bell going off in my head? Yeah, I heard it too. Quite a bit.

Of course, I also had to learn how to use a Dressage whip properly first. This was not as easy as it may sound. There is switching of hands required so said appliance is always in the inside hand. There is the angle in the hand so there is actual contact instead of just waving. At least until waving suffices.

Waving was not enough initially. It may be later. I believe Ellen's exact words were, "You need to be more definite." No, I did not cry out, "BUT WHAT IF I DIE??!" though I did maybe think it briefly.

All the while, even when he was confused about what I wanted, Calabar tried and he tried really hard. Even when he got frustrated, he hung in there with me and kept working on figuring out what I wanted. That little piece tells me how far we've really come together, and that is a gift beyond measure.

There is more to learn, always. With horses, with life. Coming come away from a lesson with clearer objectives and a path to achieve that next step is so valuable. Coming away and feeling like you can actually achieve that next step is golden.

It's like I got Calabar all over again, wrapped up in a big red bow--WITH an instruction manual! How cool is that?

Pretty cool, I have to say.

If wishes were horses

2012-01-26T22:11:00.000-08:00

Calabar and Lena (and their humans) at Slide Mountain Ranch, Oct. 2010

As do most folks I know, I have an if-I-won-the-lottery fantasy. In honor of my dear leprechaun-like father (gone two years as of tomorrow and missed tremendously), I am going to indulge in a little dreaming out loud. It is only because of Dad that I even bother to buy lottery tickets, after all.

If I won the lottery--and a significant win it would have to be--I would have a place for ex-racehorses to transition. Bar would be the mascot, Lena the greeter and resident cow expert. I would try not to keep all of them.

There would be a trail or gallop or whatever you want to call it around the perimeter of the property. It would definitely (definitely!) not look like a track. It would be a place for walking on a loose rein or for galloping because sometimes that is the only right answer.

There would be a covered arena, large and well-lit for winter and night-time riding.

There would be a jump arena with easily-changed obstacles for all levels of horses and riders.

There would be a large covered round pen for groundwork and lunging.

There would be a deep pit soft dirt and/or sand for rolling. Bar promises he'll share.

There would be cows because I think every horse (or at least most of them) can benefit from a little cow-work.

There would be hot water wash racks for spoiled horses.

I would have all kinds of guest trainers--from Dressage to cutting and everything in between--maybe even some of the famous ones.

I would hire my friend Devon to help the horses ease from the track to their next job. Mostly because she can handle fast horses at racing speed and I can't yet.

I would hire my friend Karen to help with retraining and body work--massage for the horses and Karate for the potential owners.

I would blog and photograph and promote ex-racehorses hopefully as well as Lynn over at LOPE does.

That is all just my starting point--totally impractical and subject to change based on cold reality. But it is still my dream.

Why? Because as bratty as my ex-racehorse threatened to be tonight, he is fun to ride--engaged and thinking all of the time. Athletic, too. I have to be sure to point him firmly in the right direction, but when we get there, we get there together. These horses are worth more than their speed at the track. They have big hearts and a huge work ethic.

Roll that all up and it's a beautiful thing. Almost as beautiful as my ex-racehorse and his soft, fuzzy nose.

This post is dedicated to my father, Patrick Craig Boyd. He was a gentle and intelligent man who understood and accepted the misunderstood and loved us all anyway. I miss you, Dad, though that sounds incredibly inadequate in the shadow of what I feel.

The season of serious rolling has begun

2012-01-22T12:58:00.000-08:00

Lena earlier in the year enjoying a dust bath

Calabar, Lena, and Forrest all love a good roll, and they all have plenty of room in their paddocks to indulge in this important horse activity. Forrest particularly likes to coat himself thoroughly in his own, um, leavings. And it's all good until the rain starts and the blankets come out.

Nap time disturbed by photo-snapping owner

They all still lay in the mud, at least when it's not actually raining, but the rolling isn't nearly as satisfactory when their most itchy spots are wrapped in Gore-Tex.So part of my winter-time deal is to always, always allow for rollage before we start to work. I've tried, and succeeded, to ride without this ritual, but since I can totally sympathize from within my seven layers of clothes it seems like a small concession to make.

Winter gear -- good for rain protection, but not for itchy horse bodies

It was pouring rain when I got to the barn the other night. Pouring. Rain was streaming off Calabar's ears and neck as he ate and his very first desire was for me to rub the back of his ears and his head and under his chin. I think I need to renew my supply of old, gross towels at the barn again for just this sort of occasion.

Ahhhhh....

Not thinking, I took his blanket off before heading down to the arena. And even with my apparently "I melt if water touches me" Thoroughbred dancing beside me, urging me to hurry up and get his delicate self out of the rain, he was plenty soggy when we got to the arena. Naturally, he wanted to roll as soon as he felt the soft dirt under his hooves in the arena, but I convinced him to at least wait until he was inside the round pen. His satisfaction, upon rolling at least five times on each side and coming up looking like a cocoa-dusted chocolate truffle, was palpable. I did get most of the arena dirt back on the ground and made a note to keep him blanketed on the way down next time so at least he'll only get a necks-worth of coating. Unless, of course, I insist on the stylish neck covering that he only wants when it's really bad outside.

Bar's idea of heaven. Slightly muddy, but sunny. Perfect wallowing weather.

It was the driest December in California in a long time, so the rain is welcome. Mostly. As long as I make time for itchy, trapped-in-Gore-Tex-blankets horses to roll, says Calabar.

Retired Racehorse Training Challenge

2012-01-21T21:07:00.000-08:00

On the very top of things I'd love to be a part of: The Retired Racehorse Training Challenge.

Especially if I got to work with this boy--Four X The Trouble.

What a personality! And, yes, confirmation, movement, looks, too. And, yeah... if Bar would allow it, I'd take Trouble home in a red hot second.

I do have to say that even a horse with injuries and legs that are not "clean" can be a horse that can take you to more places than you can imagine. If I did the challenge, I'd include the less than perfect ponies.

But I'm biased.

Two cats in the house

2012-01-21T20:06:00.000-08:00

Time for a short cat-related interlude on the blog.

Oliver came into our lives in November and has, as cats do, managed to create a space for himself in our lives and our routines. And the sofa.

It took him awhile to figure out he could come in and eat every morning, then curl up on the sofa all day. He's a pro now. However, the first few times Steve went to put him out in the afternoon before heading out to the barn, it was a little traumatic. He wouldn't always show back up for dinner, but he's actually started figuring that out, too. Tuna helped. A lot.

It's like he didn't have any kind of consistency early on in his life, like sometimes things he did were okay and sometimes they weren't--all very arbitrary.

The other thing we've figured out is that he is pretty much completely deaf. He sees well, smells well, and feels vibration, but he doesn't hear much, if anything. He doesn't hear you making the treat noise, so he watches and when you go into the kitchen he makes sure if he's hungry, you know it. He doesn't hear you asking him to go out, but if he sees you make the clapping gesture, he does realize what you want. He doesn't like it, mind you, but he is starting to figure it out.

He is also learning to snuggle. It's hard for him for some reason, but Steve is gentle and persistent. Ollie sits on the Steve side of the sofa out of habit, so has had to learn to share. The head scratches have helped convince him that we are not going to eat him or toss him off the sofa. I am hoping that eventually he will make his way over to my side of the sofa, but for now I'm content to listen to him purr.

Just as I wonder what Calabar's early life was like, pre-Howie, I wonder what has happened to Ollie that has made him the way he is. He is getting over it, whatever it is, slowly but surely learning to trust us and relax.

Steve may be the best cat whisperer I've ever met.

Ollie says so, too.

Elmer says what is so great about Oliver??!! Look how cute I am playing dead on the floor! But Elmer has also figured out that trying to steal Ollie's tuna is a very, very bad plan.

My horses remind me more of cats than of dogs. What's funny is Lena and Elmer share traits, as do Ollie and Calabar. And yet Ollie is much more Steve's cat and Elmer is much more my cat--as much as a cat or a horse can ever really be anyone's, of course.

Whatever the dynamics, it is good to have such interesting creatures in our lives.

Lena cartoon

2012-01-18T22:32:00.000-08:00

"She told me she was feeling faint," said Katie. She was describing Lena Rey suckering her out of a little extra alfalfa the other night.

It made me imagine Lena, batting her eyes, holding a hoof up to steady herself as she fought off imminent starvation.

Which then led to this silly cartoon.

It may be a one time thing, but it was fun and it surely captures her essence. I was not as successful with Calabar and Forrest, though I'm entirely unsure why that would be.

Lena says it's okay, I can practice with more pictures of her.

What would I do without horses?

2012-01-18T22:18:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, my mind drifts back to LBH--Life Before Horses. There were vacations to Hawaii and less broken bones. There were jeans that didn't cycle into the barn-clothes pile. There were even cowboy boots once upon a time that never saw horse poop in their whole entire lifetime. (But really, what is the point of that? Poor boots were probably confused!)

But there were also no fuzzy brown horses wearing hats--definitely a hole in my life that needed filling.

Very occasionally--usually when it is blowing frigid wind and rain, when I've just written out a check for board/to the vet/to the farrier and I can remember swimming in the balmy Hawaiian currents--I sigh a little bit.

But just a little bit.Because whenever I do venture out without the ponies, I find myself on a constant search for a horse fix. This has led to disappointment on many occasions because the average trail horse really. Just. Doesn't. Cut. It. At all. Not compared to to Calabar and Lena, a.k.a. the Wonder Twins. When we went out the other weekend, there was no plodding, not a bit of it. There was trotting--maybe a little slow-motion racing, even--as we made our way up the trails. I always hope a rented trail horse might be a little evil, but that has only happened once. (In Hawaii, oddly enough.)

On the other hand, the obsession has also led to some interesting conversations. Like the one I had outside of Las Vegas where capris and sneakers were considered reasonable riding attire (though we didn't have time) and downright practical compared to a supermodel showing up to ride in high heels. (According to the story, anyway.) And apparently, that was not the most bizarre outfit this young man had seen. (Considering we were near Vegas, I can only imagine.) Lena would never tolerate me wearing a show girl outfit, that's for sure. Way too much competition.

I think, really, it is safe to say I have an addiction at this point. When I get to the barn, even if I don't ride once I'm there, the warm smell of horse and the trail of slobber on my shirt somehow completes my day. When I don't get to the barn, I find my irritability is much closer to the surface, my joints ache more, and I'm just grumpier in general. Really, my boss should insist I go to the barn because I'm much nicer to be around, much more soothed and relaxed, when I manage it. It's like a little mini-vacation every day, only with warm snuffly noses instead of warm salt water.

Both together would actually pretty much be my idea of heaven, I just can't figure out how to get my horses on the plane.

Horse stories

2012-01-17T22:35:00.000-08:00

Having seen a recommendation, I am currently reading (and thoroughly enjoying) The Eighty Dollar Champion by Elizabeth Letts.

While inhaling words through my eyeballs, I came across this description of what the Remount Program was looking for in 1912--a "usin' kind of horse." Sounds a lot like Lena Rey, except of course she is a mare and not a gelding or stallion:

"..bred to be well balanced, with well-sprung ribs and a deep heart girth to provide plenty of lung capacity, a well-developed set of withers to hold the saddle in place, lots of sufficient bone to stay sound, and a foot large enough to provide a solid foundation."

It does, however, slightly fall apart with this part:

"...temperament was a factor, with emphasis given to 'a gentle disposition and a willing mind.'" In Lena's case, sometimes yes, sometimes no.

Doesn't matter, I love Lena Rey for who she is. Just as I love Calabar for who he is. And the point of Snowman's story is just that--at least as far as I've read so far: Love them for who they are and what they offer and offer them the same in return.

That is what makes a companion, that is what makes a champion.

Jess-2, Fear-0.5

2012-01-15T18:53:00.000-08:00

Fear and I are doing a dance, but bit by bit, I'm reverting to my true nature and starting to lead a little more. It has not always been this way, no. There have been many times over the last couple of years when I've let myself chicken out when faced with a situation I think could get squirrely or even one that just makes me a little nervous. Sometimes the scenario mirrors one that caused Bar and me trouble in the past, and sometimes it's just something unfamiliar. I'm not proud of giving in to the fear or hesitation and I could cheat and resort to only writing about the times we are awesome, but we won't start to work past anything if I don't start by admitting I still get scared sometimes.

The thing is, I'm coming back around to the conclusion that I can handle more than I think I can.

Calabar says, "Duh." And, "Phew, it's about time you figured it out."

Over the last couple of weeks, I've faced a couple scenarios that previously would have caused me to back away--riding with folks I don't know, and having another horse in the round pen when I'm working with Calabar. Both cause me anxiety and I've used both as an excuse not to take him out, but I decided to suck it up and deal instead.

Last week, I got to the barn in time to ride, but saw the lights on in the lower barn and a few cars there, indicating I would have company in the arena if I chose to ride. "Urgh," I said to myself. I could just smooch and go home, no harm, no foul. But.....

Bar hadn't been out in a few days and I needed to be a big girl and do this. It would be a learning experience, right? And he's been really good lately. And we both needed OUT. I needed out of my medical-industry-nonsense brain space and he needed OUT of his blanket and paddock.

Yes, please, and thank you. Now.

Being around other horses has been challenging for us, and I'm not sure how much is him and how much is me being nervous because I'm afraid he's nervous and will react to the other horses. I know he's a herd animal and that other horses are interesting, exciting, and possibly competition. He has had good days and bad days, but has gotten progressively better over the years with more and more exposure. That night in the arena, he showed interest in the other horses and riders while we did our ground work in the round pen, but he didn't show off too much and kept his head in the game. I got on and we stayed in the round pen to do our work, during which a little bounce-spin told me that was a good plan. He thought he was done after that, so I worked him some more to show him he wasn't. We finished up our ride and I told him next time he could go out with the other horses if he was good. "I was good," he said. "I suppose you were at that," I sighed, realizing I should have trusted him a little more than I was ready to. Something to remember next time, though.

The other night, after I'd warmed him up in the round pen, saddled him, and gone to get on him, the barn owner's wife came in to lunge her Quarter Horse mare. Bar is particularly weird about horses lunging in the round pen. To put it bluntly, it freaks him out. No, I have no idea why, but I've levitated with him enough to safely say it's low on his list of favorite things.

So I thought it prudent to stay on the ground until I could see how he was going to handle this. Daisy is normally fairly sedate, but she was frisky and Calabar's eyes became large brown saucers. However, he didn't go anywhere and even moved forward a few steps to check out what was going on in the round pen. In fact, he was really good and I was about to get on when he heard someone clang the gate to the outdoor arena and I became the center of a short-lived Thoroughbred tornado. Only one circle, actually, at the end of which he tripped over the mounting block and looked suitably embarrassed.

I did get on after that, and we walked, and he was somewhere else--e.g. not with me. You know. Me. His rider. So I got off and lunged him again a little in the round pen, which he thought was truly boring. I told him I was scared, and that I really couldn't get hurt again and he bumped me with his big head as if to say, "It's okay, I know." Then I got on again and he was most excellent. Once again, I realized I could have trusted him more than I did. "Sigh," says Calabar.

In between those two scenarios, we went on a trail ride that was not only physically challenging for all of us, but provided much-needed non-arena time.

Today there was no scary situation, no hurdles, just lazy Calabar and me in the arena. We did a tiny amount of ground work, then I climbed on bareback and worked on feeling his front feet. He worked on trying to figure out what I was up to and pointing out when I was scrinched over to one side. "You're doing it again," he said. "Crap, you're right," I said, pushing down into my seat bones, pushing my shoulders back, and uncurling my spine.

It was all very relaxed, even the tiny (and I mean tiny) dip-spook he did in the back of the arena because he could hear-and-not-see someone out there.

Bit by bit, I'm taking the lead back from fear. All with the help of my big, fuzzy, brown mirror. And a little faith in myself tossed in for good measure.

Trail ride weather

2012-01-08T16:21:00.001-08:00

We need rain here in Northern California, but since it held off yet another day, we took advantage and hit the trail.
The horses were great, and we were all glad for a day out. Much needed by all of us.

A plan for New York's Retired Racehorses

2012-01-08T11:24:00.000-08:00

Calabar by a nose, October 15, 2003

For one obvious, fuzzy brown reason, Off-Track Thoroughbreds and their fates are a subject near and dear to my heart, so when I read the recommendations of the New York State Task Force on Retired Racehorses, I did a little cheer and maybe not just in my head.

These recommendations not only help answer the question of how to monitor the safety and well-being of horses on the track, they offer solutions and support to set the ex-racehorse up for success after the track. How? By training the humans responsible for the horses before the after the track part happens. They even came up with a way to pay for it--taking a percentage of revenue from video lottery terminals and purse accounts.

Being a bit cynical, I realize these are only recommendations and I wonder how we will motivate the industry to take responsibility--let alone even a fraction of their proceeds--for these bright and athletic creatures?

How about a little image triage?

Attendance and on-track betting revenue has been falling for years, and--good, bad, right, wrong, indifferent--incidents like Eight Belles breaking down and being euthanized on the track after finishing second in the 2008 Kentucky Derby pointed a glaring spotlight at all of the things perceived wrong with the industry.

And then came Zenyatta--a horse that brought a delightful new public face to horse racing. There are so many fine racehorses out there, but Zenyatta's team gave us an intimate backstage pass to the world of racing wrapped up in one classy package. She is a force of nature--not just on the track but with her rockstar personality--and she is so obviously well-taken care of. Her owners and humans all around love her, and it is unlikely she will disappear and end up somewhere bad--a fate that befell Ferdinand, the winner of the 1986 Kentucky Derby who disappeared and was likely slaughtered in 2002.

Unfortunately, hers is not the typical story, and I don't even mean the winning part. Way too many horses wash out on the track and end up in awful conditions. Way too many horses are so banged up on the track they can't transition easily (if at all) to any work.

That's why this is so important. That's why we need the buy-in and the reporting from those in the industry. We need to support the owners and trainers that take care of their horses and turn the focus on cleaning out the muck.

Natalie, over at the Retired Racehorse Blog, summarized some of the key points she particularly likes:

1. ALTERING TRAINING REGIMENS SO THAT HORSES CAN BE MORE READILY RETRAINED FOR OTHER USES

I agree 100%. Not only will it make their transition off the track smoother, even a little bit of cross-training (say Dressage) would give you a more balanced, athletic and interested horse. There will also be monitoring of trainers whose horses regularly end up in the euthanasia-only category, as well as the trainers (like our friends Devon and Howie) who retire horses who are sound and able to move to second careers.

2. CREATING AN INCREASED MARKET FOR RETIRED RACEHORSES.

Sounds like a "duh" but there is a lot for the TB breed to overcome in the minds of many in the horse industry. Going back to the point above, though, will make these beautiful, smart, and athletic horses more marketable. Using proceeds from the industry to support retraining facilities, places like LOPE in Texas and New Vocations, that give the fresh-off-the-track fire breathing TB time to learn to be a regular horse will also be a huge help.They "get" ex-racehorses and recognize their talent, work ethic, and athleticism can and most often does translate to successful post-track careers. A little PR helps, too, and the many great stories on Off-Track Thoroughbreds are a great example of those successes.

3. INCREASING COMMUNICATION BETWEEN OWNERS AND POTENTIAL ADOPTERS.

Absolutely. Facilitating this communication is a challenge fairly easily answered in today's world of social media. What if owners started early? What if they began really working with adoption agencies to not only place the horses they create and can't use, but retrain them for other careers? And why not play up that pedigree even if the horse is a non-racer? I know I get a kick out of the fact that Lena has Man O'War in her lineage, so why not have a jumper that has Secretariat back a few generations? Just a marketing angle to think about.

To Natalie's picks, I would add this one as well:

4. INVOLVE THE BETTING PUBLIC.

I don't necessarily mean financially, I mean get them involved with the horses. To continue to make money, the world of horse racing needs to attract new eyeballs. The old eyeballs, the devout, won't leave and the treatment of the horses one way or the other may not affect them. For the industry to survive, it needs to hook new people. It needs to transmit the way it feels to stand at the finish line and feel the earth vibrate as the horses fly down the track at you, feeling the thud of the hoofbeats in the pit of your stomach, watching lean muscle sweat and stretch and power it's way to the finish line. The racing industry needs to show people these horses LOVE to run in as many ways it can do that--and there are lots of ways to do that these days.

You're not going to connect with everyone at the track, but using the Zenyatta PR model as an example (on a smaller scale) is not a bad idea. Golden Gate Fields is on Facebook and does a pretty good job of telling us about their Sunday dollar days, but what if they started telling the stories of the horses and jockeys making a living there? What if every track had a blogger? A social media contact that brought out the lifestyles of the fast and fuzzy? How cool would that be? There are more than enough stories to tell on the backside of any track--and a lot of them are about good owners, good trainers, with great horses.

There are many more great suggestions in the report and I can only hope the racing industry in New York actually follows through--and that it then spreads across the whole country. There are good moral and ethical reasons to do this for the horses, of course, but there are some not-too-shabby financial rewards if just doing the right thing isn't enough.

As Natalie says, let's get loud out there!

Bittersweets from 2011

2012-01-02T12:23:00.000-08:00

The last year had some high points and some low points--hitting the ground again in April being one of the latter. 2011 also dropped in some heartbreak that is only lessened by the joy of knowing two fine four-legged creatures, however briefly they appeared on the scene.

Remy popped into our lives rather unexpectedly when Katie brought him home in April. We didn't think she should have a dog and told her so, but that didn't equate to "No, you can't have a dog," so in bounced Remington. He was one of the smartest and happiest dogs I've ever known. He could entertain himself and was very trainable. I found myself becoming quite very fond of him, even when he would disturb my morning yoga practice with intense face licking. He died in July after getting into rat poison on someone else's property. It was like a light went of in the house for a little while and I still miss his funny little butt wiggle and floppy eared face.

Heartbreak number two came from another four-legged and feisty creature--a lovely filly named Lacey. She was bred and owned by the people we got Calabar and Forrest from and she was a character. She was ready to race the very first day in her stall, zooming around in the straw while her weary dam tried to protect the humans from the ball of chestnut energy.

Lacey sustained a serious injury to a front leg that never did heal and ended up causing deterioration to the joint. It is the challenge faced by all who raise athletic and curious champions built on long legs, but it was a hard blow for our friends and a sad loss for those of us looking forward to watching her grow up.

Losing both Remy and Lacey was awful, but I will never regret the imprints (paw/hoof) they left on my heart. Really loving means risking losing, so I choose to be glad these two fine creatures passed through my life on their way somewhere else.

The art of snarfing alfalfa

2012-01-01T22:32:00.000-08:00

Our horses love food. All three of them. Forrest gets downright cranky while waiting for his grain since he is last in line, Lena is certain she will be forgotten or have to fight for her meal, and Bar eats the slowest of any horse I've ever met but will lick the inside of his grain tub long after it is empty. For many minutes. Somewhat obsessively, actually. Right before he wipes the grain dust leftovers off his nose and onto my shirt.

Alfalfa is like crack to them, I swear.

Before the price of hay skyrocketed, they were getting alfalfa every third feeding. Unfortunately, that would have more than doubled the hay budget for our barn owner (and in turn raised our board), so they are getting a 3-way that they all seem to like pretty well. Even Forrest, the pickiest hay connoisseur I know, snarfs it all all up. I know Peter shopped around for good hay and did the best he could without selling his first (and only) born child, and the horses are all holding weight and certainly getting enough to eat, so in my book he's done his job for my horses.

But as much as they like the hay, it is not (NOT) alfalfa, so we have been buying some and giving it to them as a treat.

There is an art to the enjoyment of the alfalfa.

Bar likes to toss it and snuffle through it for whatever the tastiest parts are.

The pre-sift toss.

"That's it. That's the best piece."

Lena likes to shove it under her gate and stretch for it.

Such a beautiful long neck.

Snuffle, snuffle, snarf, snarf.

Forrest wants me to just leave him alone with it so he can savor it's tasty goodness.

"Go away, weird lady. I'm savoring."

There is something completely relaxing about the sound of horses chewing. Nom, nom, nom.

On to a New Year

2011-12-31T19:53:00.000-08:00

I have been writing this blog since August of 2006, a year after Lena Rey Flo-wed into our lives. Every year I try to summarize the previous 12 months and set a few goals for myself and the horses, and every year they say "That's a great plan, now let's go off on this tangent because we'll all learn more."

Since plans with horses play out as they will, I'm not sure that's the tact I'll take this year, but in perusing that first year's set of posts, I came across this one. It is pre-Calabar by a year, hints at the start of an inkling for horse number two, and highlights what I was only beginning to understand about what a horse gives to you.

If I were to set a goal or two, it would be to remember what I wrote there when I'm feeling discouraged or am just feeling trapped in the office some nights.The other goal would be to just relax and ride more. Nothing more complicated than that, though I have some obstacles of my own making (mostly) to get over, through, around, under...well, you get the picture.

This year has presented me with some hurdles, of that there is no doubt.

The fall in April was a tough thing to work through--more on the mental side than on the physical side, though the latter was no picnic. I think I've gotten through the fear fairly well and managed to go since April with no more injuries. (That thunking sound you hear is me knocking wood.) I am ready to ride more and Calabar has always been ready to work with me when I get to the barn in time to saddle him and ride.

I just need to get there.

Work this year has also been a challenge. Not work per se, but the balancing of the professional responsibilities I have with the personal fulfillment I need from my "other" life. I have to examine, honestly, whether I'm using work as an excuse. Sometimes, I probably am. But other times I really don't know how I'll get it all done.

On the plus side, I'm writing a lot, including my own "regular" column (Spitting Sand--A Learner's Journey) for the local horse publication--Sonoma County Horse Journal--so that's pretty cool.

We also did our first clinic this fall, survived it, and are in fact planning number two at the end of January with the same instructor.

On a sad note, we lost two of our outdoor kitties to old age this year, but then we gained Oliver. Oliver has decided he is currently an outdoor cat but we think we'll win him over again when it really starts raining.

And now it is time for Steve and I to go out for New Year's Eve! This may be the first time we've ever done this, but after 11 years together, it seemed like a good time to try something new.

Happy New Year to you all! May 2012 bring you much joy and happiness, love and abundance.

p.s. No. I am not going to apologize for that incredibly bad play on words in the first sentence. It is a tribute to my dearly departed and pun-tastic father who insisted he loved my writing. I miss you every day, Dad.

Winter ruminations

2011-12-29T20:32:00.000-08:00

Winter is cold and dark. And I know that Californians such as myself are quite spoiled--we think 45 is cold. I've heard tell that in the Midwest, t-shirts come out in that type of weather.

Not so for us delicate flowers of the West Coast. I have at least four layers on by the time I get to the barn, and sometimes that's not enough for me. Delicate. Flower.

It has been dry and cold here of late. And dark. I get to the barn at 5:15 p.m. and I am fishing for my flashlight shortly thereafter.

My point to all of this is that my motivation to ride is not always as high as it should be. It does not help that I am still fighting the plague and every time I do some work with my pony, I end up snuffling and somewhat feverish. I have decided that since it doesn't seem to help to take it easy, I might as well do what I want even if I am too tired.

Of course, that means I haven't ridden my horse enough so that when I finally did ride him Tuesday night, my body asked me how much Ibuprofen I had on hand. It's still asking. Good grief, where did my muscles go? I'm still doing my yoga! I'm still walking! "Yes, but you are not posting and you are not riding." THOSE muscles have had a hiatus and I am hearing about it. Painfully.

It does not help that I sit for a living. All those body parts have had 8 hours (plus) a day to sit and become seized. Like a motor. I can feel the resistance, like non-lubricated machinery grinding as it starts up.

Yep. That's my body right now.

The only way to make this better is ride more. (And get out of my chair during the day.)

At least we are on the uphill side of daylight time, now. Every day, a few more minutes of light.

Believe me, it counts.

Four years of OTTB madness

2011-12-24T18:54:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 22nd, marked four years since Calabar bounced into our lives. It is a little hard to believe, actually, and some days I feel like I've done a lot and some days I feel like I'm back at square one.

I guess if I'm still learning and he's still engaged and learning with me, we're in good shape.

Here is a shot of Calabar and Lena meeting for the first time. (And his tendon looks so much better now!!)

Here is Lena being moonie-eyed over her new neighbor. That has mostly worn off, but they are still pretty attached to each other. We are an odd little herd, that's for sure.

There is even a video of Devon riding him the day I decided he would be mine on this post from December 2007.

Four years ago, I got the best gift ever--a fuzzy, brown Thoroughbred mirror. Little did I know the ups and downs--some literal--that we would experience. Do I regret any of it? Maybe some of the fear, but since it's all been part of the learning experience, I can't even regret that.

Through it all, I have learned more about myself as I've learned more about Calabar.

"Mom. They is on backwards, duh."

I'm still learning to breathe. I'm still learning to ride. I'm still learning to trust my horse and he's still learning to trust me. I've even learned which way the antlers go, though not until after this year's photo shoot.

Learning I don't have all the answers has been the best gift of all.

Happy Christmas to all of you out there. May your holidays be full of joy and love, family and furry folks.

Outdoor arena

2011-12-17T19:38:00.000-08:00

One of the goals from my fear series was to ride in the outdoor arena, a place that has been kinda scary for me for a long time. Though I wanted to end up there to do a little work today, it was not my intention to start there with a horse that hasn't been worked enough over the last two weeks.

I was derailed.

Neither Steve or I have recovered from the dumb germ, yet, and it's been two weeks. The horses have not gotten out enough and are understandably a bit on the wild side. I had worked Bar last night so he wasn't completely fresh, but the bounce was still very evident.

Normally, he and I would go into the round pen and dance around before we went into the indoor--let alone the outdoor--arena. However, the round pen was in use and I had already saddled up my big, bouncy horse.

Lena and Steve were in the outdoor arena and were having quite a raucous ride. The horse waiting for Peter in the round pen was reacting to the echoes that bounce into the indoor arena from the outdoor arena by bucking and snorting.

Calabar reacted to both of them. How can 1200 pounds levitate? I don't actually know the physics involved, but I have witnessed it. In person. Recently.

And yet.

I needed to do this. I didn't need to gallop, I didn't need to do anything complicated. I just needed to get on and ride in the outdoor arena. Bar needed me to ride in the outdoor arena, too. He didn't know it, but he did.

And we did okay. We walked--bouncy, bouncy, bouncy--me feeling his front feet as they moved zoomily (yes, zoomily) forward. Poing, poing, poing. I was doing well. Feet down, sitting solid in the saddle, trying not to curl forward, trying to move with the big brown spring under my butt.

We stayed at a walk. I'd love it if I could tell you I threw my hands in the air and galloped courageously around the arena, but .. no. I did handle a spook and a spin, though, as well as a high level of Thoroughbred energy. Poing, poing, poing.

"What are those??!!" "Those are bike riders on the bike path down below us." "Okay. Iwillbelievetheyarenotdemonsifyousayso." "They are not demons." "K.Fine."

Poing, poing, poing.

I knew he wanted to run. I even wanted to let him run. I just wasn't ready. Luckily, he agreed to me not being ready and to listened to me. Okay, maybe not luckily but because he and I have done a LOT of work together. Either way, we have made an agreement.

I sang in the saddle, mainly because it helped me breathe. Breathing is good, it helps me relax and not tighten every muscle in my body--a very counter-productive thing to do while riding.

I am glad we are at a place where he doesn't just do what he wants to do, a place where he is taking care of me. I want to get to the place where I can let him do some of what he wants to do rather than what he knows I feel safe doing. I want to run him out there, I do.

Baby steps, baby steps.

Oliver has braved the outdoors

2011-12-10T16:56:00.001-08:00

Ollie on the retaining wall, blending with the forest.

Actually, Oliver appears to prefer the outdoors.

For the past couple of days, Ollie-pants (as I lovingly call him) has paced back and forth from the kitchen to the den to the living room, sometimes staring out the back door at the other cats. This usually coincides with feeding time, but he has been known to just stare rather longingly out the door at times, too.

Up until yesterday, he did not actually choose to venture out when the door was opened for him. Yesterday, he ventured.

He did a tour of the deck and the back patio before heading down the side and then under the house. Sigh.

I know it looks dark, but this was at about 7 a.m. Friday morning

I think I called Steve five times during the day, pretending it was for other reasons but really just to see if Ollie had come out again. Alas, every time I asked the answer was still no. All day and through the night I worried. But I also knew Ollie had bonded with us, or at least with the regular tasty food we offered, and figured that the house really represented a giant version of the hassock he'd hidden under for a week before venturing out into the rest of the house.

I worried, but it turns out Ollie has it all under control.

Then this morning, as I was starting to wake up, I heard Steve say hello to Ollie. Not call Ollie, like we'd both been doing, but say hello. I opened my eyes, looked out at the retaining wall I can see from our bedroom windows, and there was Ollie. Long, lean, and ready for breakfast.

We could not convince him to come in the house again, but he seems to be holding his own with the rest of our weird little cat herd. He watched me do yoga through the door this morning, but didn't want to come in when I was done and offered.

It has to be his decision, and I think he will get there with time--it just may take a little while and some very studious observation of how this whole in-and-outdoor cat thing works in real life. I'm hoping Elmer will be helpful in this endeavor. We will see.

In the meantime, he is doing a fine job of proving he has a place here. He blends into the forest like he was born here and faces down the other cats with calm, quiet resolve. In other words, he is largely unimpressed with their bluster.

Welcome to the forest, Ollie. It is a good home.

The holidays approach

2011-12-10T16:01:00.001-08:00

I have to confess that I'm not much for the commercial hype of the season. It may be that shopping is one of my least favorite activities--unless it's for new boots or tack--and then only if I have the money to spend. I know. Totally bad for the economy, right? Too bad.

I try (not that I always succeed) to treat my family nicely all year and not save it all up for some arbitrary season so that the holidays do not become drowned in obligation and annoyance at said obligation.

But dressing up the horses for a holiday photo shoot? That is right up my alley. Unfortunately, it was not up their alley, but we got some nice photos nonetheless.

Enjoy!

This may be one of my most favorite shots of Calabar ever taken. Thanks to Katie for capturing it.

Just a neat artistic shot, also taken by Katie.

I am holding the antlers on his head. He is unimpressed.

Katie likes this shot because it looks like she made Forrest do this on purpose. I'll never tell.

We did get a group shot or two, here's one.

Me and my fuzzy mirror.

Calabar and Jess, posing.

Katie and Forrest posing.

Lena Rey, feeling left out of the posing. Poor Lena.

And if nothing else convinces you...

2011-12-06T16:49:00.001-08:00

Is this how you want your tax dollars spent? According to this post on Forbes:

No funding has been earmarked for the inspections in the appropriations bill and the estimated $5 million price tag will be paid by U.S. taxpayers even though all the meat will be exported to foreign markets. This will take away from funding for vital food assistance, food safety and education programs on which many U.S. families rely.

The slaughter industry is broken. BROKEN. It is bad enough for cows and other meat animals, let alone horses. In our quest to have cheap meat, we have supported mass-production where animals are crammed together on feed lots and then shipped to places where they are "humanely" slaughtered. That leads to disease and the antibiotics and such that go into preventing disease from spreading in close-in populations.

That is somewhat more regulated than the horse industry. As the post on Forbes points out, there is no way to regulate what has been injected into your average pleasure horse, let alone race horses.

The other thing that we as humans (even those outside the horse community) needs to think about is how to approach what we eat. Eat local. Raise your own if you can. I can't--no land and nowhere near enough freezer space--but I can make good meat choices and Steve and have made a commitment to do that as much as possible. My friend Tom raises two cows every year to split with three other families. Why? "I know what goes in them that way," he says.

The other thing is that little karma thing. I know, I know. So West Sonoma County of me to bring it up, right? But if the last thing your dinner remembers is terror, how much of that leaks like poison into the meat you're eating? And how much of that energy gets transferred with every bite of that steak?

I may not get all of this right, but I can try to change my little corner of the world. That's a start and an easy bite for most of us to take. Pun so very absolutely intended.

Be a part of the solution

2011-12-04T16:30:00.001-08:00

This is exactly (EXACTLY) what I was talking about in my earlier posts when I said we, the horse industry, need to take responsibility for our own.

This article in Forbes (thank you to Natalie at Retired Racehorse for posting) shows that the Thoroughbred racing industry is making progress by starting to support and partner with the myriad of Thoroughbred adoption/retraining organizations out there. It is a start, and even baby steps get us closer.

If the racing industry can do it, so can the rest of us.

Following up

2011-12-04T12:46:00.001-08:00

This article on NPR does a good job of condensing and crystallizing some of the points I tried to make in my earlier post about the challenges around horse slaughter. (Yes, I know my thoughts are not original, but they have simmered for so long, they needed an out.)

I would not personally eat horse meat (I find it a little surreal that the NPR story is on their Food Blog), and I agree whole-heartedly that--as it is practiced--horse slaughter is a horrible process. But at the risk of repeating myself, the issue is not black and white and it is not easily solved. (To see my personal opinion, scroll back a couple articles on the blog--I really don't think I could write that all out again.)

Sarah, over at Miles on Miles, also reiterated the very valid--and hopefully hugely deterrent--argument that we put some nasty stuff in our horses to keep them healthy or to relieve pain in performance horses.

I originally had a paragraph that talked specifically about that, but as I restructured my article, it ended up not being relevant to the point I decided was important--if only to me--so I cut it out.

She's absolutely right, of course, and if it makes one less person decide eating horse meat is a bad idea, I'll keep shouting it from the roof tops, too. Less demand will hopefully also lead to less supply, if only because the profit motive will be removed or at least diminished.

It still means we have to deal with the supply issue as a whole, and until we get our arms around that, we will have a horse slaughter dilemma in this country.

The elusive Ollie-cat is on the move

2011-12-04T10:44:00.001-08:00

Oliver is taking his time settling in, but he is getting there. Considering all the trauma we know about, and some we can surmise from his behavior, I'd say he's doing exceptionally well. He still mostly likes to be somewhere safe where he can see everything happening--under the hassock, back behind the kitchen table, or under the piano in the den--but the last two mornings, he was sitting on the sofa when we got up and didn't disappear when we came into the room.

We are making progress!

Then this morning, he made overtures to Elmer. They've been eating side by side for several days now, nobody trying to eat anyone else's food, no hissing, fairly good behavior all things considered. So after a cheese snack for both, Elmer was sitting staring out the back door pretending not to notice Ollie when Ollie came up quietly and sniffed the end of Elmer's tail. Elmer promptly hissed and batted at Ollie, but didn't connect. We told Elmer that wasn't allowed, but didn't put him out until he asked. I have no idea how cat discipline works, but he huffed outside with only mildly ruffled feathers. Since we introduced Ollie into Elmer's territory, it's only fair to let them work things out to some extent and not punish Elmer for no doubt being a little peeved at the status change.

That apparently awakened Ollie's curiosity about the other cats and the great outdoors because he is now roaming around the available parts of the house (kitchen, living room, bathroom, and den) very restlessly. I think he is bored. Bored enough to to have paced back and forth to the back door six times in the last fifteen minutes, meowing loudly the whole time.

I know he wants out, but we want to be sure he knows this is where he is supposed to come back to first. I think we are close, though, and maybe within a week or so he can romp under the trees and sniff out slugs in the yard.

The pictures I've taken are not great because we are inside, it's winter, and Ollie is frequently under things. That requires the flash which leads to demon-eyed cat pictures. His eyes are truly lovely, deep coppery brown, like in this picture from the friend who initially rescued him, but I'm posting some of mine anyway so you can see he really is living here. He has not learned from Bar and Lena that if you just pose quickly, the photo session will end much more rapidly.

Ollie under the hassock with his blankie

Ollie under the table

Ollie in the open in the kitchen

As I finish up this post, he has braved the sofa next to Steve and is curled up in a purring ball snoozing away. Progress indeed. You will always be as safe as we can make you here, Ollie. Welcome.

Where has you been?

2011-12-03T16:57:00.001-08:00

And does you has carrots to make up for so many days of neglect?

I did have carrots and (barely) enough energy for a good romp in the round pen.

Good to see my pony again for sure. Now back to the sofa.

That issue, you know the one

2011-12-02T15:43:00.001-08:00

Horse slaughter as it exists is a horrible, inhumane, cruel and horrid industry. It is also a convenient scapegoat--a symptom of another, deeper problem in the horse industry. We have too many unwanted horses in this country and not enough people taking responsibility for them.

Let's be clear, the bill recently signed by our president allows the horse slaughter industry to resume production DOMESTICALLY. Within U.S Borders. Horses are still being slaughtered in North America, specifically in Mexico and Canada. They are still headed for slaughter, they just have to travel further to get there.

But horse slaughter is still just the symptom, folks. The problem is there are unwanted horses in the United States. Lots of unwanted horses. And with human nature being what it is, if there is a way to take someone else's misfortune and make a profit, humans will do that. To deny that is to turn a blind eye to reality and dealing with the symptom merely pushes the problem down the road. Until we face head to head and--as a whole community--take responsibility for the number of horses out there, the problem will not go away and the market will have supply that meets the demand.

We in the horse industry--owners, breeders, business people--need to step up and take this problem on within our own circle of influence, not keep blaming the slaughter industry for cleaning up our mess. Talking about what is in horses, trying to wean people off it as a delicacy is a good tactic--reduced demand leads to decreased profit for the killer-buyer and the lure is less, but it will always be there for some people. Just as there are still going to be unwanted horses in this country because we make too many of them and we are not all good at taking responsibility for each and every one that gallops through our lives.

Unwanted horses

Oh yes, they exist. Hard for any little girl longing for a horse to believe, but it's true. The rescue groups have been hammered since the recession started and they do an amazing and admirable job of finding homes for a lot of horses. But even they can't home every horse out there and I've seen some really nasty vitriol spewed at rescues that made the choice to euthanize a horse they deemed unadoptable. And those horses are out there. Look at your barn. Really look. How many horses are tended every day? How many horses haven't seen their owner for months?

We have an old Belgian mare in our pasture that has never been ridden, possibly never even had a halter on. She lives out there and eats, but she's not ridable. What if her owners stopped paying her bills? Luckily, Peter would probably just let her stay since she maintains her weight without additional feed, but what if she got sick? What if she wasn't at a barn where the barn owner would simply call the vet and have her euthanized? What would her fate be then? What about a family who has to make the choice between feeding their children or feeding their horse?

There is no easy answer to any of these questions. Is starving a horse more humane than sending it to auction, possibly to slaughter? Would I do it, no. But I know I have options. Good, bad, right, or wrong--desperate people don't always see those options. Our job in the community is to be sure their horses have those options.

Horses as food

Horses are raised in the U.S. as pets, companions, competitors. They are smart (most of the time), playful, and delightful creatures. And we make too darn many of them. The backyard breeders, the various breed industries, the race industry, all of us--in breeding for perfection, we've worsened the gene pool and filled the auction houses with the results. Sometimes those imperfect horses are still someone's dream come true. And sometimes they are not. The downturn in the economy has swelled the corrals at horse rescue organizations across the country to bursting. And--like it or not, and I don't--the ban on slaughter in this country has actually made the situation worse.

Would I eat Calabar? Gah, no. Not unless we had a Donner Party situation going on and I'm not even sure I could then. (Likely, I'd let myself die and he'd eat me to survive and wouldn't that be ironic.) But I have the luxury of landing squarely in the "Friends not food" corner when it comes to horses. Yes, horses are a luxury item, as much as it doesn't seem that way when you are knee deep in mud and poop. That gives me a different perspective, and gives me the ability to see horses as different beasts than cows and to realize the practices used to slaughter cows don't work for horses. We are supremely lucky and blessed that our horses do not stand between us and the survival of our families, that they are in fact lovely parts of our family--not potential food sources. On the flip side, there are those that view horse meat as a delicacy. Our job, our responsibility as horse owners, is to shut down the slaughter industry from within. Providing people with a special food delight simply because we aren't tending to our own is not acceptable.

In this country, we raise cows to be food. We should be doing it in a more humane and sustainable way, but they are raised for food or food production. There is a spark in a horse's eye that I just don't see in cows, sheep, or oysters. (Okay, so oysters don't have eyes, but you know what I mean.) I won't eat octopus, either, because they have proven to be problem solvers which leads me to believe there is more going on there than you realize. But would I begrudge a rancher the choice to eat one of his own horses if that were his decision? Nope. Does that make me inconsistent? Possibly. Will I ever be a vegetarian? Not likely. Would I eat my own horse? I think I answered that as best I can in the light of our current circumstances.

But what else can we do? They can't all be released into the wild and they won't all be adopted. Period. Heck, there really isn't enough space for the real wild horses we do have, but that is another soap box for another day. Today is about those of us in the horse industry putting on our big person pants and figuring out a solution for the real problem. What do we do with all these horses? How many Thoroughbreds are born each year and how many wash out on the track a mere two to three years later? They don't even have to wash out on the track to end up in the slaughter house--Secretariat's own brother was hours away from oblivion when he was rescued. No, horses just have to end up in a situation where no one knows or cares where they are.

Our responsibility

Horses are not cars. I could sell my Miata tomorrow and be glad I had it and not really care where it went and if someone didn't change its oil regularly. (Mostly, anyway.) If for some unforeseen and horrible reason I could not care for Calabar any more (and believe me, I would do anything--ANYTHING--to prevent that), I would never lose sight of where he went. Never. They'd probably have me arrested as a stalker, actually. Lena has the same bargain from me, as does Forrest. They are my responsibility to take care of and watch over until I can no longer do so or until they pass on to the next realm.

My other responsibility is to not add to the population, no matter what a delightful and well-bred mare I have. Lena has beautiful confirmation and is a truly striking horse. Her bloodlines are fantastic in the world of Cutting, despite the fact that she outgrew her calling by nearly two hands. Don't get me wrong, I get tempted sometimes. But that's one more thing I choose not to do, one more being I don't have to be responsible for tending, caring for, and finding a home if I can't do that anymore.

That is the deal, in my mind. We as a community have the responsibility to make good choices for these glorious beings we have brought into our lives--either by buying or breeding or adopting. They cannot make those decisions themselves. Sometimes their owners can't make those decisions themselves. The horse community needs to step up and fix what is in our own house and that is what will ultimately shut down the horse slaughter industry. Not laws, not regulations, not horse rescues. You. Me. Us.

I've seen what we can do when we put our minds to it. We just have to put our minds to the right thing. The horse slaughter industry exists for a reason. Let's remove that reason. There can be no profit if there is simply no supply to meet the demand. We owe it to these glorious creatures that allow us to fly without wings. We owe it to ourselves.

And finally

I have hesitated for years to address this issue here, offer any opinions on Facebook, etc., because I know it's a heated issue and I grew up a soother, a balancer of great emotions. In other words, controversy is my anathema and I want everyone to see the other side. That is not always possible, so I hope I have done a good job of expressing my opinion and the things I consider are part of the real issue.

If you don't agree with my opinions, that is your right. I just ask that any comments made be civil and on topic. Thank you for reading.

I'm bored, therefore I blog

2011-12-02T14:24:00.001-08:00

Me, bored, pre-crud. Me bored with the crud is too scary to post.

Having been hit by the crud this week, there has not been much riding and yesterday there was not much but sleeping (and snoring) going on.

Today is a little better--bored is better than comatose. I might even shower. In a minute. Or two.

Steve just left to go tend the horses. Sigh. I'm hoping Calabar remembers me when I get back to the barn this weekend. That was WHEN, not IF.

In case you were all curious, I do not get sick often and I do not do sick very well. It makes me very, very grumpy. Illness makes me feel as if my body has betrayed me somehow and I find that rude. Yes. I do know I'm human. I just like to pretend I'm superhuman most of the time.

In the meantime, I've been perusing some of my favorite blogs by some of my favorite folks.

Natalie at Retired Racehorse is always a good read. I hear there's a book in the works. Maybe.

Susan over at Off-Track Thoroughbreds is great, too--highlighting the things our fabulous OTTBs can do after the last finish line has been crossed. Who knew that the War Horse story had an OTTB link? Susan did.

And little did I know that post about a horse named Jaguar Hope would lead me to another blog I follow, From Racehorse to Showhorse.

And let's not forget Miles on Miles where Sarah does a fine job of describing her journey with Miles (who very likely walked past Calabar at GGF at least once), but has now rescued her first horse and is working with her, too.

But lest you think I am only focused on ex-racehorse blogs, there are a couple others I like.

Kate at A Year with Horses always has an interesting tale to tell and very often tricks I can use with both my sparkly horses.

A Tale of Two Buckskins almost always makes me smile, and not just because of Dave's often-colorful turns of phrase. Some of his trail rides are downright spectacular.

Grey Horse Matters deals with the trials and tribulations of riding for us slightly more mature folks. She also has a spotty horse with a big, blue eye.

I've also recently discovered Geek with a Horse which appeals to me for several reasons. One, who doesn't love a big draft horse? And two, I live with a software developer learning to be a horseman. I myself am not quite that geeky, but since I just replaced the RAM in my own laptop, I have a little geek cred of my own to stand on.

Reading today, but tomorrow.. tomorrow will hopefully be another story.

Best intentions go astray

2011-11-29T20:55:00.001-08:00

I was quite excited to be back from our long weekend, ready to get back in the saddle and back into some training for both Bar and me.

Then this tickle started in the back of my throat, followed not too shortly thereafter by a cough, aches, and weariness.

Really? I have things to do! Things that don't involve being sick, tired or grumpy. Work is a must, so barn time is compromised until I feel a little better. Poor Calabar. He got carrots and licorice last night, but that took all the energy I had. Tonight I didn't even get there because poor Steve came down with the stomach flu and someone had to buy something for dinner or we'd all starve.

By the way, Oliver likes roast chicken. A lot. I'm not even sure he chewed.

Ugh. Stupid, inconvenient, bad-timing, germs. Bah.

Going to bed now. Take that, dumb germs.

New family member

2011-11-27T18:12:00.001-08:00

As the long weekend drew to a close, we adopted a new family member.

This lovely cat (pictures do not do him justice) is Oliver. He is kind of a tabby/brindle/pattern-less cat with amber-colored eyes. He is beautiful.

Oliver was found by my friend Kathryn in a storm drain a few months ago, after being mauled by we don't know what. She took him in, gave him lots of attention, medical care, and time to heal. She tried to give him a good home, but with two other male, indoor cats, it was not quite the right place for "Ollie."

Searches were made for appropriate parents, but--lucky for us--none were found.

Ollie is currently watching things unfold from under the table, but he has eaten and he has been "introduced" to Elmer without major incident. Elmer needed a little bit of head scratching and love to reassure him, but he seemed to accept Ollie with only minor fur ruffling.

Welcome to Oliver, who is way more exciting (to me, anyway) than the official start of the holiday shopping season. And thank you to Kathryn for pulling a cat out of a storm drain!

Lena supervising and wishing all a happy day to all

2011-11-24T16:42:00.001-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Our day has been very quiet so far because we aren't actually gathering with family until tomorrow--in Pismo Beach.

Should be fun, though Katie has opted out. Something to do with her turning 21 today and having plans this weekend. Whatever.

Hope everyone had a lovely day and enough to eat. Cheers!

Inspiration

2011-11-20T17:33:00.001-08:00

I don't even really know what a 15m circle is--though thanks to Peter I do know my circles tend to look like eggs--and I don't even know how to coordinate my outfits, let alone my aids, but Calm, Forward, Straight hits on several things in this post that I can relate to, things I do struggle with. Nausea, for one.

Okay, I don't usually feel nauseous. Sometimes just a little fluttery in my stomach. Normally, I'm merely fighting to breathe around my heart as it slams first into the front of my rib cage, then into the back of my rib cage, kind of like it's trying to give itself CPR.

But lately, I'm finding the fun part again. The get on and laugh part. The "well, that was an interesting reaction" part.

And Calabar seems to be coming along with me. Nudging me when I need to be nudged and following me in our funny little dance.

He inspires me to be a better rider, and other writers I read inspire me with their own journeys.

Life is a good place to be.

Good rides

2011-11-19T19:05:00.001-08:00

Along this journey, I've learned many, many things from a lot of different people. I've also watched countless videos and read a ton of books and websites, sucked in so much data my brain is losing it faster than it ever came in.

But the people have really been key.

More friends than I can count--both local and via the blogosphere--have offered support and advice, or just reminders of how far Calabar and I have come and to keep at it. Peter has helped me rebuild my confidence and get back on my horse. Ike and Cheri have been there to encourage and support me, plus taught Calabar he could meet cows with bravery and a beautiful, arched neck. Ellen offered some simple concepts that helped me reconnect with my horse and my own body.

And much of it simply comes down to getting back in the saddle.

I didn't have enough rides this week, but they were good rides--quality over quantity will have to do for now. Calabar and I did more work at the walk--his big swinging walk is back and I'm doing a better and better job feeling and moving with his front feet. At the walk, anyway. We are still working on the trot, but that is my theme song. (Something like, "Someday the trot will come...")

However, we did have some good luck with turns by using the same principals Ellen talked about. Think about me being the one doing the walking, what would my body do and try to feel it in him. If it were me, I would hold that inside foot still (or shorten the stride), lengthen the "stride" of the outside leg. Lo and behold, it worked!

So cool!!

People and horses have both taught me a lot, and I treasure every lesson--even the hard ones.

Still some go

2011-11-14T19:55:00.001-08:00

It turns out I have not ruined my horse and he does remember how to move his feet. He even really likes this new thing we're doing where I try to move with him.

Don't get me wrong, there is ample (and I do mean ample) room for improvement, but I was able to get a good spirited walk (thank you, Bar the Chiropractor) and even communicate speed changes to him. Not perfectly, but hey, it's a start. Speed up, slow down, all with my funny little feet. It was cool.

I also got a nice couple of walk-offs from our butt-yields, an awesome bonus.

There was even a potential spook moment averted nicely by one of us sitting calmly in the saddle and the other one deciding it might be too much effort. Ghostly spectre hovering outside the arena in the dark, then a spotlight and a glowing blue tarp.. what could it be?? Oh. It's just Peter, out getting wood. No biggie.

There is still plenty of work to do, of course. Knowing the goal of feeling his front feet worked really well at the walk, and his butt-yields were fantastic, but our trot is still a discombobulated mess. Such a big bouncy thing he is, and yes, I'm in my feet, but holy cow what do I do now? I believe the word is "practice." Another one would be "patience." Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

So I think I really will stop beating myself up, now. Bar says it's counter-productive and besides, we had fun tonight.

Fear management - Part six

2011-11-13T15:32:00.001-08:00

Bar says he was good when there were cows involved. No small feat, for sure, let along for an OTTB

Last of the series--but the most important in many ways--exercise six asks you to create an action plan of small steps that are reasonable, that you can accomplish on the way to where you want to be.

The instructions say this is where it becomes personal, where I determine my starting point and how I get from here to your goal.

My here and now is a horse who has scared me and hurt me, but who now works very hard to try to do what I ask. A horse who has sublimated (mostly, anyway) his very nature and has likely bound up his own body in order to comply with my wishes.

My wishes must change or he and I will be stuck.

Where do I want to go? I believe galloping down the beach is my answer.

Small accomplishable steps between where we are and where I want to be are both specific and general:

Drop into my feet and legs, relax, feel him and our connection.
Remind him how to move forward with impulsion and give him permission to do so.
Feel his front legs.
Practice that one-rein-butt-over move. A lot.
Get out of the round pen and into the rest of the arena more often.
Ride in the outdoor arena.
Get the walk to move right.
Get the trot to work right.
Ask for a canter without being terrified. Or if terrified, breathe, then ask for it anyway.
Get the canter to work right.
Canter. A lot.
Do all of the above in the outdoor arena. A lot.
Make big circles and small circles.
Do transitions - walk/trot and trot/canter.
Practice lead changes just for fun.. (He doesn't need much practice, but I do.)
Try new things that make us both nervous and work through the reactions.
Breathe.
Breathe some more.
Sing to him. He likes it and it helps me breathe.
Just get on and ride.
Ride some more.
Reward him for the try and ask him to try again.
Reward him again.
Reward myself for the try.
Be patient.

That's a good list to start with, though I'm sure I'll add more as I go along, and I'm pretty sure the last one will need to be interjected here, there and everywhere.

True love

2011-11-13T15:16:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, in the midst of beating myself up and wishing I'd done better, Steve smacks me (delicately) upside my head.

He just told me how proud he is of me and how much I've been able to accomplish with Calabar and reminded me not to minimize all the work we've actually done together. He said, "You love him and he loves you and I think you did have an epiphany yesterday!" He's excited to see what is going to happen with us now.

Then he made me cry.

As I stated in an earlier post, one of my biggest fears is that Calabar will hurt me badly enough I can't ride. Or worse. And then he'd be the horse no one would want because he hurt his rider.

Do you know what Steve just promised me? He promised that if anything happened, he would do his very best to find my big horse a home. He'd call Devon and Howie and Karen and find my network of blog and Facebook friends and make sure my big guy didn't become dog food.

NOT, by the way, that I intend to let anything happen, but good grief I feel like a lucky girl.

Outside the comfort zone

2011-11-13T09:30:00.000-08:00

Calabar and Lena, post lesson, enjoying brunch

Getting us out, way out, of our comfort zone was a good thing for both Bar and me. It was not an easy thing, and I don't just mean the whole rigmarole of getting horses in trailers, going to a new place and doing something totally different.

What is hard, what is breaking my heart, is the realization that I have boxed in my horse It hurts--even though I know the whys and the reasons--that I've removed Calabar's "go" instead of finding a way to channel it into productive movement. I have a better sense of that, now, and will eventually stop beating myself up.

There is a silver lining, to this, though. I have to push him because he's doing what he thinks I want, what I've told him time after time after time is the right thing--don't go fast, hesitate when you don't know what I'm asking. He is listening to me, I just have to change what I'm telling him so we both get better.

The other positive note is that we did get out and do this new and somewhat scary thing and--after a bit of a rocky start--we all learned something.

Both horses loaded wonderfully, even Calabar needed little encouragement to climb in on our way to the day's adventure. The drive to the facility was short--10 minutes, tops--and uneventful, and unloading was calmly done.

Things got a little dicey with both horses when they began to notice the activity level around them--a group lesson in one arena, geese and a pond to our right, someone shooting something off nearby, a horse jumping in the arena behind us AND a hot air balloon low on the horizon.

Lena held it together fairly well, but Calabar needed a reminder (read elbow to rib cage) that just because he's freaked out, he can't forget I'm standing there.

He has always reacted with a lot of energy, shall we say, to new situations--particularly new situations with lots of horses doing lots of different things--and yesterday was no different. After Steve and Lena went up to the jump arena to warm up, I climbed on Bar to follow. He was not being good. Dancing, spinning, not listening. So I got off. And we did many circles in the driveway until he could walk next to me without dancing past me, allowing me to reward him by going to where Lena and Steve were.

He still wasn't settled, though, and the sight of many colorful jumps did not help. "WHAT?! You want me to jump? What do you want me to do? Where is Lena? Why is she over there. WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE???" I think that about covers what was going on his fuzzy Thoroughbred brain. I kept him circling around me, away from me, changing directions, whatever speed he needed to go--as long as he didn't run me over--until he was circling me at a walk. I tried to hard to be his oasis, to be calm and steady while he danced around, and when he was calm, he could come in for a head scratch. Luckily, he did manage to stop levitating in time for our session.

There are no pictures of the session, sorry. We rode together and, as it turns out, my camera battery was dead anyway, so my words will have to suffice.

Ellen started with me and my stiff self, and gave me a vision. Move with his front feet, feel them, let the rest follow. Oh, and sit up straight, push into my feet. Funny that the "in the feet" bit sounded a lot like Ike. "If you're in your feet, you're ready for what they might do." Right. Ike said that too. Where did I forget it?

Here's where the spotlight hit me. One of the things I needed to do was push Calabar forward, get him to go. Where he used to launch himself into a big, swinging walk I could dance with, he now plods along, waiting for me to stop him from going too fast. In trying to do what I want, he has compromised his own beautiful movement.

As I said earlier, the good bit of that is that he is trying to do what I want. So I need to want different things, or at very least give him an outlet that gives me control and doesn't shut him down.

Ellen gave me a tool. Not the one rein stop, no--the one-rein-move-your-butt-over. This one simple movement accomplishes a couple things. One, it redirects the energy, allowing me more control and more safety; two, it teaches him when I pick up the reins, he needs to do something with his hind end. The latter will be something we can build on.

You could see the wheels turning when I slid my inside hand down and pulled his head out. "Oh, you want my head. Here it is. Um. You're not letting go. Can I bob my head up and down and make you let go? No. Hm. What are you asking me to do??!!"

It occurs to me as I write about it that my horse and I are so very much alike. The first few times we tried it, as Bar struggled to figure out what I wanted, I asked Ellen if I should nudge his butt with my foot. The answer was, "No. Just wait for him." He bobbed his head and played with his bit, I was convinced he needed another cue and was ready to deliver it to help him, fairly humming with restraint.

However, part of the problem was that he had physically blocked himself in with his outside rear and couldn't move onto it to move his hind end over, so all my extra pushing would only have frustrated him more. It took a few tries--and my perpetual personal challenge, patience--but he got it. First, all he had to do was shift his weight and I'd release the rein, but gradually we got to where as soon as I slid that hand down the rein, the hind would move over and I'd release. The goal, the thing I need to work on is a) making sure it's his hind end moving over and not his front and b) if he walks off from there, letting him. We did this over and over and he should have gotten irritated or frustrated. But he didn't. He got looser and softer and more responsive. When he would start to get fidgety, we'd walk for awhile, Bar teaching me to feel those front legs and move with them.

Ellen said she had a Thoroughbred once that when things would get out of hand and he'd get nervous, she'd go to this exercise. He knew it, he'd relax because he knew it, and things would de-escalate. Bar is like that. If he knows what you're asking, he calms down and does it. Part of our problem is me not knowing how to ask and him not knowing what I'm asking, so having a trick like this--a tool to use to remind him he does know something and I do know how to tell him to do it--is a gift.

We got to use the new trick in real life, even. While Ellen was working with Steve and Lena, Bar and I worked on feeling his front legs up the side of the arena. Then, I don't know, a moth flew by, and he danced. And I reached down and moved his butt over and he stopped.

So next up is telling him it's okay to move forward again, go with him when he does it, and correct him only as needed. I'd like to be able to do this without a Dressage whip or spurs, but I might have to use one or the other until both of us believe me. Ellen offered Ike-like advice, there, too. As long as they know it's there, that's really all you ever need.

As for Steve and Lena Rey, they got to do some more active things and she showed off her athletic side and beautiful sensitive self. They worked on things like lateral movement to get Steve in the right place for Lena to be comfortable and confident in her own movements. Ellen thought Lena was quite lovely and said so. Lena heard her, too, and you could tell. If a horse could bat her eyelashes, Lena did.

Lena likes her rider to be balanced, as do all horses. She's just super sensitive to it and has been known to give her opinion by way of bucking, crow hopping, or doing the shoulder drop and spin that dumped me off last year. Bar, of course, is no saint in that area, but he has gotten to where he will tolerate my lapses most of the time. It would be better if he didn't have to, though.

Katie Dougherty-Kunde and Willoughby

After our session, we got to watch the beauty and grace that Katie Dougherty-Kunde and Willoughby create together. While I was watching, Ellen pointed out that everything Katie was asking Will to do was based on the very simple things Steve and I had done with Lena and Calabar. I had been feeling like I hadn't done all the things I set out to do in the lesson, but that helped me realize that I'd done more than I thought.

Bar and I had traveled way outside our safe little box and we'd done pretty well, all things considered. Steve and Lena had also found new ways to work together that they both enjoyed.

We all survived, we all learned and we all enjoyed the experience. More than that, I see a pathway to helping Bar be the horse he is meant to be and still have me as his rider. Peter used to tell me to "liven" Bar up, and now I see not only what he meant but why and how to move us along.

That sounds like a win to me.

Clinic day

2011-11-12T06:19:00.001-08:00

Steve is cooking breakfast and I'm trying to slow down and relax a little bit so I can actually eat it.

I'm excited, but still a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. I even had a dream we got there, and then Steve and the horses disappeared and left me there!

The weather looks like it will be nice, though we'll be inside as far as I know.

I'll have the camera, but not sure how much photography I'll be able to manage.

I'm babbling, aren't I?

So, a little about the clinic and the clinician.

The clinic is being taught by Ellen Eckstein, who primarily works with Dressage, but really works with anyone who wants to ride better. She has been my friend Katie Dougherty's coach for many years and worked with Tom Dorrance for over 30 years combining classical Dressage principals with his natural horsemanship teachings.

My initial goals are to work on my position so I can start to work on Bar's position and gaits. We will, however, see what we end up doing once we get there.

Steve says he and Lena have nothing specific, which is not surprising to me. I'm sure they will find something to work on with the big, spotty mare, and in fact, I think she could very easily learn to do some Dressage.

I don't really care what I'm doing as long as we're learning. The balance and correct collection principals of Dressage (as it is meant to be taught) are so good for any horse, but I think for Bar it could improve his movement and flexibility tremendously.

Even if we do it a western saddle. (Or in a weird endurance saddle as the case may be.)

Off we go!

The dark and the cold

2011-11-10T20:57:00.001-08:00

Bar several months ago.. when it was not DARK when I got to the barn

I loved the time change the morning it happened because it made me feel oh-so-efficient. I had so much more done an hour earlier than normal! It was fabulous!

And then.

I actually left work on time a few times this week--an extreme rarity these days--and it was already dark (DARK) by the time I got to the barn. Even the full moon, while lovely, wasn't quite high enough to help most of the time.

Sigh.

It's not only dark, but it's cold. Cold for me, anyway. I live in California, so I consider 45 degrees cold. I know. I'm a wuss. I'm sure if I lived in the snow, I would acclimate. But I'm not moving so I'll take my 45 degrees and tough it out. As you colder weather folks know, there is only so much bundling that works with riding. You do have to be able to move a little, right?

The cold also affects joints--both mine and Calabar's. He takes a little longer to warm up this time of year and he's not so hot to go racing off. I know that seems odd, and sometimes he does bounce around like a hot, fresh horse in cool weather, but not usually at night. At night, he acts like things are not as flexible as they could be, preferring the trot to the canter until things flow a little better and creak a little less.

I tell him I completely understand. I have even been known to do knee bends to demonstrate that his are not the only joints that make fearful noises. He usually looks at me dubiously at this point. "What does that have to do with me?" he asks.

It has to do with the fact that I know movement is the best therapy, so let's both keep at it. Even just a little. Because it's oh so much work if the parts start to seize up.

Someday, we both may believe me.

Upcoming clinic

2011-11-07T19:20:00.000-08:00

Calabar expressing my deep-rooted fear of public embarrassment

I confess I'm mildly terrified about doing a clinic. Here, let me get on my horse in front of a bunch of strangers and let them see all of my insecurities and troubles. Gah.

Maybe they will snicker behind their hands, or roll their eyes. Maybe they will shake their heads in pity. Or maybe, just maybe, we will all learn something.

Maybe my troubles, the things that bother me and that test my own resolve, will actually turn out to be bigger in my own head then they are when viewed by an audience.

Maybe they won't be, but I'm just saying there are other possibilities than total mortification.

Maybe something we learn will help someone else. Maybe something someone else learns will help us.

So if I follow the previous post with visualizing success, I need to think of being out there--naked with all my fears and anxieties exposed--turning that into something that teaches. Something that moves us--Bar and me--a few steps forward.

My heart may be pounding, but my gut says to trust him. Up at Slide, he went into a strange arena with lots of new horses, not to mention cows, and he did great. He stayed with me, listened to me, even when I was too afraid to let him run. Even when he ached to race past these tiny little Quarter Horses on his long Thoroughbred legs, he deferred to me.

He wants to learn, he wants to be ridden. He tells me this all the time.

I need to stop thinking of all that could go wrong, and believe in all the things that could go right.

And how far could we go with that? Very far indeed, I suspect.

Fear Management -- Part Five

2011-11-06T19:51:00.000-08:00

I love my horse. I do. I had a great ride today. And I had to reach through the fear, hear my breath over my pounding heart, and get on a horse who was high, lit up with the cool weather and his own need for movement. And the message? Do it anyway.Exercise five on the fear management list is to Visualize Success. So I did.

Today I decided to visualize me, relaxing on Calabar. Sit deep, shoulders back and relaxed, hands loose, elbows out--and we got there.We still have a journey, I still have a journey, but today was a good day.

Next weekend, we have a new piece to add--a clinic. I have so many things to worry about. So many things I can imagine that could go wrong. A clinic? Other strange horses? New experiences? Anathema to my big, brown routine-oriented ex-racehorse. But instead, I think I will imagine things going right. I will imagine me, being calm in the saddle, communicating that level of relaxation to him as we try new things, as we learn new things together.

We can do this, Bar and me. We can do even more than that.

Elmer two years later

2011-10-31T21:45:00.000-07:00

Upon hearing the sad news that we'd lost a couple of our older cats in recent weeks, my mom asked me how long Elmer had been around.

So I searched my blog and it turns out it's been almost exactly two years since he first arrived.

Since then, someone fixed him and he decided he liked it better here than there and so .. here he remains.

Currently, he is snoring on the sofa.Fabulous, lovely cat. Even if he does steal my spot when I'm not watching.

Fear Management -- Part Four

2011-10-31T21:25:00.000-07:00

Exercise four in the fear series asks "What am I afraid of?" Then it moves to refining that question into a few categories: What it is; How I currently respond to each fear; What skills I'd like to have to address the issue; Assess where I am right now on a scale of 1 to 10; Map my path to a 10

What is my biggest fear? Getting hurt so badly that I can't ride anymore probably hits the high note, but part of that is also the worry of what would happen to Calabar if I were that badly injured. Yes, there is me--and the irony of saying I'm afraid to ride because I might end up unable to ride is not lost on me. But who would love a horse that broke his rider? Who would understand and be willing to work with him if he was labeled "the horse who hurt (or worse) his owner?"

I cannot fail him. I can't fail me either.

So on to the exercise.

How do I currently respond to each fear?

Um. Sometimes okay, sometimes not so great. It would probably be easier if I just focused on what would happen to him, but I'm a little too selfish for that.

So it comes back to me. I am trying hard to just get up and ride and to challenge the fear with at least one thing that pushes me a tiny bit past my current bubble of a comfort zone. Breathing deeply, shoulders back, I ask for a canter. Crap. I lost my inside stirrup. Stay with him, relax, use your seat. Cool, I'm still on. Ask him to slow down, now.. gently.

Ask him to do something I'm scared to ask, and go with what he offers if it's in line with what I asked. Ask a little harder if he doesn't respond and correct him if it's not what I asked for at all.

What skills would I like to have? I'd like the skill to separate my mind from my body so my terrified lizard brain isn't directing my body to do the exact opposite of what it needs to do. Stop gibbering, darn it! I do NOT need to curl up into a protective ball in the saddle! I need to sit up, breathe deeply, and not wrap my legs tightly around this coiled spring of prey-animal like a nasty, ornery predator might do.

Assess where I am now. I am at about 40% of where I need to be. Some days, I'm doing really well and I can talk my hammering heart out of exploding out of my chest. Some days..well, ground work is better. I am having more days like the first part, so that's good. I'd like more days, though.

Mapping my path is actually not so hard. The main goal is to actually ride more. Nothing will get better without me getting my butt in the saddle for more hours. This is a work in progress as my real job seems to be counterproductive to my fantasy life as a cowgirl, but it is the only path to horsey goodness.

There may be more concrete steps I can take, but it all comes down to more saddle time and more sweaty saddle blankets for both of us.

A horse is a commitment. Some people think of a horse as the means to an end--be it shows or ribbons or other glories. I think of Calabar as my partner on this journey. The best path is the one we create together.

Horse History--A photographic journey

2011-10-30T20:26:00.000-07:00

I've written several times about our horse journey, how we ended up at this place in our lives scooping horse poop and breaking bones here and there along the way. Here is the Clift Notes version in pictures.

It really all started with Katie. Here she is, decked out in her show outfit on a patient Quarter Horse mare named Dixie.

But really? It started here. Yep, that's me in full 90's maternity fashion glory. The glasses in particular are truly fabulous, yes? Because inside that 6-month old belly was my darling daughter, the one who has not yet outgrown her adolescent horse phase and somehow infected the rest of us along the way.

Katie showed Western Pleasure for a few years. Then we ruined her by giving her the gift of Slide Mountain Ranch and cutting horses. Little did we know Steve would also discover his long lost cowboy gene.

Or that I would meet Eclipse, one of several fine steeds that taught me a lot about horses and more about myself. (The steam rolling off Eclipse indicates how truly cold and horrid it was up there that trip. Poor Ike caught pneumonia after we left, I think)

The obsession grew.

We met Lena Rey Flo in 2004, brought her home in August of 2005, almost lost her two weeks later to colic, and have appreciated her spotty beauty and feisty personality for the last six plus years. She is the reason I started the blog in the first place and the very first horse story (pre-Calabar) can be found here.

And then came Calabar--a dark brown off-the-track-Thoroughbred who continues to show me the places I need to go to be a better horse-woman. Our story is a work in progress and our journey can be found all over this blog.

And where are we now? Just a couple of folks learning to be horse people with a couple of good, four-legged teachers guiding us along the way. Some days are better than others, but any day I get to see my horse is better than a day I don't.

I don't know much, but I am fairly certain there is more to come--more adventures, more mishaps, and more learning.

I can't wait!

Fear Management, Part Three

2011-10-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

Next in the series from the Horse and Rider article is Exercise 3: What can I do? How well can I do it?

Calabar says, "What are you so worried about, Mom?"

The direction is to make a list of everything I can do that is related to the horse--start to finish--writing in the affirmative, then rate how well I do it on a 1 to 10 scale (1 being "No way, Jose!") It's really a way to acknowledge what I can do and build my confidence from there. Turns out, there is a lot I can do with this horse of mine.

I can go into my horse's paddock and not be afraid. I can pick up his feet, do stretches with him and simple ground exercises using my own energy and a few carrots. I can direct him away from me when I'm graining so he waits to approach until I give the go-ahead. (10)

I can lead him without him crowding me or pulling my arm off to get to grass. I can work him on the ground in the round pen using just voice commands and body language. We can walk together, stop together and back together. I can direct his head and hindquarters and move him sideways both directions and backwards without touching him. (9)

I can (and do) get on him bareback with just his halter and lead rope. I can ride him at the walk bareback and ask him for trot, though we are still working on the smoothness and coordination of that particular thing. (8)

I can tack him up and ride him in the indoor arena. (8)

I can ride him in the outdoor arena. (4 -- I am nervous above the trot but can take him over obstacles at the walk.)

I can load him in the trailer, even into the first slot, most days. I can always turn him around in the trailer and unload him without him running me over. (8--I need to work on my own patience here.)

I can take him out on the trail and feel pretty calm and confident, even when doing something new--including following after deer for a few steps just because I pointed him that way and asked nicely. I can even ask him to trot or lope on a trail, though we mostly stick to trotting unless we're on the beach. (8)

I can have him around cows and not have him spin away from them. In fact, I can have him face down a cow--at least from the other side of a fence. (7--mostly because we've only done it once.)

I can ride him around a group of horses he doesn't know, keep him from trying to glue himself to Lena, and hold his attention. (8)

I can decipher when he's being naughty and when he is reacting out of fear and address the situation appropriately. (7)

I can work the sore spots in his body and not get bitten because he knows better and because I pay attention to his pain limits. (9)

I can give him a bath and reach inside his sheath to clean it. I can pat his fuzzy, brown belly and even walk (well, crouching anyway) under him. All of this without getting kicked, or even the threat of being kicked. (9)

I can doctor his wounds and wrap his legs and spray him with fly spray. I can put his fly mask on without having to halter him. (10)

I can ask him for a canter, though (as with the trot) the smoothness of the asking and resulting gait still leaves a bit to be desired. (5--I don't do it enough yet to improve)

I can lean my head against him and get a Thoroughbred neck hug in return. (10, duh.)

I think I could actually go on forever, but here's what I see so far: I do some things pretty well, and in fact approach some things that should be scarier (like trail riding) with less trepidation than more "normal" things, like arena riding. Being a little backwards is sort of the story of my life, so this is not all that surprising.

Since I still want to gallop my horse down the beach, there are a few things we need to work on. But the point of this exercise (I think) is to remind me that there is a lot I can do, a lot I'm already doing, and maybe--just maybe--it's okay to add a few things to the list.

Fear Management, part two

2011-10-19T20:41:00.000-07:00

I'd intended to get to this next post a little quicker, but my computer decided that breaking was its next order of business. Luckily Steve is willing to share his computer so I can write about Exercise number two: What are my goals?

Exercise two asks, "If fear weren't an issue, what would you want to do with your horse? What are some specific things you would do?

Well, fear is less of an issue than work for me right now--I can't get out of the office early enough to even get to the fear part--BUT.. I digress.

If fear weren't an issue, I'd gallop Calabar as fast as he could go--which is actually pretty fast. I'd lean forward and feel the energy and power of my horse as he did what he was born to do. I'd go out to the beach and we'd race Steve and Lena and see who really is faster in the long run. My eyes would water, his mane would whip me in the face, and I'd know what a jockey felt like for real. I'd know what it felt like to fly.

Exercise two also tells me to visualize fulfilling my goal 15-20 minutes a day. Not just picture it, but incorporate detail. The sound of the sea gulls at the coast, the constant wind and sound of the surf, the thud of his hooves as they hit the sand, the waves and spray sending salty mist into our faces, the sound of his breath huffing out of his big Thoroughbred nostrils, the stretch and surge of his muscles (and mine) as he pours himself into the run, the sweet smell of his sweat and warmth of his neck between my hands, watching it all from between his brown ears, moving with him, being relaxed, laughing as the beach races by below us.

I'm supposed to rank my goals in order of importance, but I really only have one. It dovetails into many other things, but there is really only one.

Every step we take together, every time I push him past the grumpy stage and get him to go along with whatever odd thing I'm asking, I know I get a little closer.

The very first step is not tensing up when I ask him for a canter. Actually, scratch that. The first step is not tensing up. Period.

If there are other specifics, say a little low jumping, it all falls into the same category--trusting myself to handle what he throws at me, if he decides to throw anything at all. Which he hasn't done. In a really long time.

I think he's trying to tell me something.

Fear management, part one

2011-10-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

Calabar and Jess, Slide Mountain trip, July 2011

I've written a lot about overcoming fear in the last couple of years and how it still seems to be a constant battle for me. When I get on and just go, I usually do better than when I think too much about it or over-prepare. I know it affects my riding, and not just the enjoyment aspect, but the physical side, too. I curl into myself, which puts me in odd positions that make the centered balance I need even harder to achieve. This causes cascading effects I'll talk about in a minute.

Peter has watched me ride for the last five years and has worked with me a lot on my position, particularly recently, and on relaxing in the saddle and moving with the horse. He also knows that's the hardest thing for me, so he gave me an article to read from October issue of Horse&Rider all about working through fears. The article had some good suggestions in the form of six proactive exercises. I'm going tackle them one at a time through my blog, which hopefully means I'll blog a little more as well.

The very first exercise asks "Why do I ride?" I'm supposed to write down, as fast as I can without censoring, the reasons I want to ride, so here goes--flow of consciousness.

Companionship, the bond between Calabar and me, strengthening it, feeling the connection, it's fun, new adventures, trails, being out in nature, challenging myself, the warm dusty smell of horse, the lightbulb when we finally click together on something, the rolling motion of the ride itself, the clean smell out on the trails, pine needles, oak leaves, dirt, warm sun on my skin, something solid and real and in the moment, something Steve and I can do together, it nourishes my soul, learning, reacting, living for now, simple and uncomplicated.

So those are all really good reasons to ride--and I'm sure there are more--and all things that get chased out of my head when I get afraid. The fear also affects my position, which in turn contributes to the increase of fear.

What do I mean? Well, when I ride, I know my body is tense and often curled in forward. Peter and Steve have both pointed this out both in the arena and even on the trail. In addition to not giving me the balance point I need, I think it reinforces the fear--mentally, but also physically. It is a fearful, protective position, but it also closes in my chest which makes it harder to breathe deeply. Breathing deeply helps with relaxation and squaring my shoulders makes me feel braver.

I experimented with this bareback the other day and I do feel a difference, as does Bar. When I'm in what I now refer to as the "brave" position, I am less in his way and he can respond to what I'm asking much easier. That makes us both feel more confident, and the downward spiral reverses. The mental mimics the physical in both directions, in both horse and rider.

So maybe if I just pretend to be a little braver and put my body in the same mindset, a little more fear will fall away and a little more riding will fall into place.

Next post will feature Exercise 2: What are your goals?

Out and about

2011-10-08T15:01:00.001-07:00

Photographic proof that at least Steve and the horses got out on this fine autumn day. You'll just have to believe it was me in the other side of the camera.
It was a lovely day, a good ride, and just what we all needed.

Lena says she feels left out

2011-10-07T23:08:00.001-07:00

All this blogging about "feelings" and "horsemanship" is getting tedious, says the royal Spotty mare.

Remember where all this started, she says.

I do. With her delightful, beautiful, speckled self.

To my first muse, Lena Rey Flo--thank you for getting the ball rolling.

I owe you much more than carrots.

To be a horseman

2011-10-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

What does it really mean to be a horseman? Hours in the saddle? Number of broken bones? Trophies?

Or is it just the sense of connection that sometimes happens when both of you have all the body parts moving the same way at the same time and at least one of you has a relaxed grin on your face? (I confess I'm not always in this zone, though it happens more now than it used to and it is always my goal.)

Yes, I did just watch "Buck" the movie. How could you tell? As most of the reviews state, it is in many ways much more about humans than it is about horses. It shows us horse people how to peel off the layers and look at ourselves with enough honesty to be the horsemen we want to be and that our horses need us to be.

Am I there yet? Not really. I'm not confident enough, yet, even though Bar keeps telling me it's okay to step up to the plate. In fact he wants and needs me to step up to the plate. When I do ride, he takes good care of me and even before I get on, he's asking me to climb up and work with him.

It's the getting to the riding part where we have challenges. I run through my ritual of warming him up in the round pen first and seeing where his head is, blah, blah, blah. He tells me--by nosing the saddle or the mounting block, standing still for the saddle and dropping his head for me to slip the bridle on--that he's ready for me to just ride.

It's really me that's the problem. As usual.

Last week I warmed him up in the round pen, then when we went out to the outer part of the arena he--saddled up and all--went up the side of the arena bucking and farting for about half the arena. Then he stopped, turned around, and headed for me and the mounting block. "Okay, had to test the new hacked saddle pad. Get on, now, 'kay?" I laughed at his antics over the pounding of my heart and decided to embrace his exuberance as a sign that he was feeling good, not sore. That mostly worked, actually, and we had a good ride.

Then last Sunday I got on again and had to work through the most anxiety I've felt in a long time. I did it, and he was good and patient and kind, but I felt so weak and unhappy with myself! I couldn't help thinking he deserves so much more from me! I can almost hear him telling me to just trust him and we'll be okay. And I can almost hear myself saying, "Sure, big guy!" And then part of me freezes.

Argh.

So I've got the scars and some of the hours in the saddle. Sometimes that moment of clarity and connection even comes, too, but mostly I've got a ways to go to be a "horseman" I think. Luckily, I'm stubborn and not done trying. Bar says he'll wait for me, but it would be more fun if I just got down to it so we could ride.

Sunset over the (mountainous) withers

2011-10-06T18:34:00.001-07:00

Tack hacking

2011-10-03T20:24:00.001-07:00

My current solution to Mr. Sensitive Withers issue with his (nearly) new pad.
This very same pad fits Lena perfectly, with the front portion sitting just in front if her not-insubstantial withers. But in Bar, that front cross section, when still connected, sat across his withers.
It seems like a small thing, but I know racer-back jog bras give me a headache, so.. I cut the front of the pad and we shall see if it helps.
It actually already seems to, so more on this later (when I'm not blogging from my cell phone in my chiropractor's office.)
Yep. It's my turn for some bodywork!

Horse racing--coincidence and musings

2011-09-25T18:33:00.000-07:00

Since Calabar nosed his way into my life, I've become a bit of a horse racing nerd. I watch races, I read about racehorses, I follow blogs about other ex-racehorses and how their owners are training these former high-caliber athletes. I also spend too much time on racehorse websites, which sometimes leads me down odd noodly paths.

Today was just such a day.

Sarah over at Miles On Miles posted a good look at the before and after of her boy's racing career. He, like Bar, sometimes feels his oats, but--also like Bar--does not seem to keen to go back to his former life. Oddly enough, Miles (who was Masarin) hit Golden Gate Fields the year after Bar retired. They are the same age and I'd like to think they would have been good partners in crime out there on the track. (Though Miles was a turf horse and Bar was oh so definitely not.) Miles was also a much more successful racehorse than Bar, but Bar says that's okay--they are still brothers under the soft brown hair they both wear.

After I snooped around on Equibase for Miles' record, I looked at stats and it brought to mind an interesting question. There are of course the horses ranked highest by earnings--including Curlin, Cigar and of course Zenyatta. But there are also horses ranked by number of wins. The top on that list is a horse named Time to Bid who only earned $241,247 by the time he retired in 1988, but he started 179 times! And he won 50 times, placed 2nd 33 times and 3rd 35 times--that's a 28% win percentage!

Then there's one of my other favorites, Goldikova. She is still racing. Has started 25 times, won 17, with 5 seconds and 2 thirds--a 68% win percentage. She is also the horse who inspired her groom to dash out onto the track after one of her more exciting wins.I know some of you are not race fans but trust me when I tell you there are good people in the business, people who take incredibly good care of their horses. And--for the most part--these horses really love what they do.

So what is more impressive? A horse that wins a lot of money or a horse that can stay healthy and race longer? The real money, of course, is in the breeding, so these days it is better to retire a good horse than to risk injury (or worse) by continuing to run them. But a tiny part of me is impressed by a horse like Goldikova who keeps coming out, keeps running, and keeps winning. Okay, more than a tiny part. The trick is balancing that decision and I am exceedingly glad that will probably never be a choice I have to make.

Spitting Sand debuts!

2011-09-25T13:43:00.000-07:00

Here is a link to the Fall 2011 issue of The Sonoma County Horse Journal. My first "official" column is on page 14, but don't miss Joan Rasmussen's (of Cowboy and Dexter's Excellent Adventure) story about Mustangs on page 8. As a funny side note, Shadow is a resident of our barn. We keep Lena far from him because while he is not a studly stallion, she would figure it out anyway. (And while they would make absolutely adorable babies, the answer is a resounding NO.)

Progress Bar

2011-09-25T11:47:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile since I posted about the big Bar man and his twitchy self, and I am glad to report we are making progress. I haven't figured anything out or done x-rays or acupuncture, yet, but in my own little stubborn way, I think I'm helping him heal.

After getting back from Vegas a week ago, my first order of business was to go see how he was doing. I took him out and worked him on the ground again--following it up with some more massage and pressure point work on his shoulders and neck, more stretching. He rolled, both sides again, and THEN I cold hosed him. (Trying to leave the arena dirt in the arena this time.)

Again I got good releases and more animated movement up the hill to his paddock--he actually wanted to race me!

Then the work week hit and things got a little nutty. I worked him Monday, got out late Tuesday and said hello with carrots, golfed Wednesday, got stuck in a meeting on Thursday, had a social event Friday. Has anyone else noticed how much faster time seems to go as you get older? It's very nearly October and I haven't gotten half the things done I thought I would. Oh, well.

But I digress.

Yesterday, I got back to him and he was much less sore and sensitive in his left shoulder, and though still a hair touchier on the right side, he did let me dig into his neck. For a little while anyway. Oh, and he presented me with a mysterious horse injury, too. Looks like he got his back leg stuck or ?? Who knows. Looks mostly like scraped skin, nothing serious.

At any rate, he was moving pretty well in the round pen and we worked on lengthening him out at the trot and not breaking into a canter just because it's easier. I started out just watching from the ground at first, so I could see how he was moving, which turned out to be pretty comfortably. Naturally, I then poked at his pressure points some more which he tolerated with remarkable patience (for the most part, anyway).

He was moving so well I decided to borrow Peter's pad and training saddle and hop on and do a little more work.

He was fantastic! I was able to keep pressure off his withers and only got a tiny twitch one time, but I think it was fly-related this time. He was smooth and pretty flowing at both the walk and canter, and wanted to keep working even after I decided to stop! "No, it's okay, you can just walk." Ears up, asking to trot, such a happy boy.

He rolled, we cold-hosed, and raced up the hill to his paddock again. The only thing I forgot in my joy was to stretch him out. I could feel guilty about it, but that is a waste of energy. Energy I need to do all of this again today. Including the stretching. Which is hard work, I'll have you know.

The other piece of this puzzle is me, of course. Can you guess which side of my body is tighter? And do you know I also have a big knot on the right side of my neck? So I'm increasing my yoga and stretching again and may actually get a little body work on my own self.

When I was riding yesterday, I didn't think about being perfect, just about flowing with him and keeping as loose and balanced as I could be. I like my lessons--though we're taking a break for now--but they tend to give me so much to work on all at once, I lose track of it all and don't relax enough. Yesterday was all about breathing and rolling with my horse.

We both think that was a pretty good thing.

Horses can break hearts

2011-09-24T17:41:00.000-07:00

Does, to paraphrase Natalie Keller Reinert from her eBook (soon to be in-print-book) The Head and not the Heart, the heart have no place in the horse business? Some days, it certainly feels that way.

Some of you may remember us meeting Little Miss Lacey a few months back. A feisty chestnut filly who frolicked around her mother Ursulita and tried to kick at her human visitors.

Lacey got caught up in a fence a few weeks ago. She tore her leg open to the bone and lost a lot of blood. For awhile, she looked as if she would mend, but her healing never quite progressed far or fast enough. Her pastern had fractured slightly, then it shifted forward and the ligaments and tendons wouldn't support the leg. Friday, I got an email from Devon that while they were operating on her leg to see if they could splint it, they found there was too much deterioration in the joint to repair it and she had to make the painful and realistic decision to put Lacey down.

It would be nice if we could turn off our hearts, it would make this easier. But I can't. I know Devon and Karen and Howie can't, either.

Perhaps there is no place for a heart in the business of horses, but that doesn't stop my heart from breaking at the loss of such a fine and lovely filly.

Lacey, we did not know you long, but you made a definite impression on all of us. You will be missed by many.

MIA and now stuck in Las Vegas

2011-09-17T14:18:00.000-07:00

Beyond the strip, there are lovely places to visit near Las Vegas

Steve and I have been at a trade how in Vegas since Tuesday so as well as being horse-deprived, I was completely ready to be home in just a few more hours now. Unfortunately, it will be a few more hours at least. Due to some poor planning on the part of Alaska/Horizon out of Santa Rosa, our flight has been cancelled. Seems like they could have told us this before we checked our bags, but I will rant more later.

While I'm waiting, I'll amuse myself by giving an update on the Thoroughbred Twitch situation.

Monday before we left, I got the boy out and did some acupressure on his shoulders and some massage on his neck before taking for a quick warm up in the round pen. He had a little heat in his left shoulder, but I went ahead and saddled him anyway, planning on some light work at the walk just to see how he was doing. I used my wither-cut out wool pad and tried to be sure to leave space over those touchy withers of his.

He warmed up fine--rather exuberantly, actually. Then when I went to check the pad, the slightest pressure from it made him twitch, so I switched to Peter's fleece pad (also a wither cut out but open in the front) and a blanket on top of that.

I got on and we walked, just walked. I encouraged him to just move as he wanted, as he was comfortable, trying to get him to swing out and stretch through his shoulders. I got some of the twitchies whenever anything touched his neck--my hands, reins, whatever--but he would keep walking through it. Could have been heat and flies on top of whatever is going on, too.

After I got off, he had an odd sweat pattern on that left shoulder, so I unsaddled him there in the arena and took him to the wash rack to cold hose him. As I hosed him down, he gave me some good releases--blowing, licking his lips and good shakes. Then I took him back in the arena where he proceeded to roll very effectively on both sides. Very thoroughly. That is the first time in awhile he's rolled on both sides, so I'm hoping that helped him.

Of course, now I've been away from him for four days, I've had a chance to worry and fret some more. He got a break, so that may be good, too. Katie was going to work him for me, but I haven't had a chance to talk to her to see how he's doing. Except to hear he's had plenty of grain in my absence.

My vet wants to do x-rays and Karen thinks that's a good idea. I halfway agree, I just don't know that I can afford it right now, so I'm adopting a wait-and-see attitude. Keep massaging, keep stretching him, keep working him lightly, keep cold-hosing any heat. See where we are in a couple weeks, then make the next best decision I can make for him.

Luckily, he seems more uncomfortable than in a lot of pain, which gives me the head space to figure this out and help him the best I can without draining my bank account. Sometimes reality sucks.

The massage

2011-09-06T20:48:00.001-07:00

Bar sort of relaxing under Karen's ministrations. Only sort of.

Bar allowed about 2/3 of a massage but told us what we needed to know.

Basically, more massage work is needed (which I can do), along with some stretching and saddle pad changes. My saddle is actually okay fit-wise, we just need to work on making sure the pad isn't adding wither pressure.

We are also going to look into acupuncture. No, really, and here's why.

Karen has worked on Bar a lot. (Yes, he is spoiled, hush.) All performance horses can benefit from massage, just like any professional athlete. Only most professional athletes don't have to carry flopping weight around. Horses do, and racehorses do it at tremendous speeds (though jockeys don't flop much).

Every other time she's worked on him, she can work all the way around (despite Thoroughbred dancing) and get him to finally relax. This time, she worked the left side and he was fine. Feisty, a little impatient, but fine. The second she touched the top of his neck on the right side, he very nearly turned into a horse I didn't recognize. He didn't bite, but he either pulled completely away and acted like he might bite, or rammed his big brown side into Karen, all the while kicking out with his hind legs. Not at us, but behind him and into objects. He also got increasingly agitated, and not in a "I'm bored and want dinner" way. We corrected him, of course, but he still made it very clear that while some areas were okay to rub, that spot up high on the right side was OFF limits. Off. No touchy.

This is not the first time Karen has worked on Bar. It is the first time she recommended acupuncture, so I'm listening. She described the sensations she was feeling while she worked on him in a couple ways, both equally plausible based on the things I've felt in my own body. Massage is a great tool, but if something--an energy pathway, a nerve pathway shooting pain messages, whatever--is stuck in the "on" position, massage backfires by basically pouring hot water on it. The other thing that could happen is that the massage awakened something that had been shut down to deaden the pain. Either way, Bar was not letting her monkey with it. Nope. No way.

Yes, I know. This sounds new age and hokey. But. I'm a firm believer in the healing properties of massage and acupressure. I've used both on myself and on my animals (cats, horses, dogs) and seen clear and obvious physical results.

I also saw the same energy level change that I've seen in Bar after one of his twitchy episodes. Much agitation and (almost) fear. Prior to this, Karen has always gotten some level of energy discharge and relaxation in Bar. (Lena falls asleep about half-way through, of course.)

So bottom line is--yes--I'm willing to consider acupuncture for Bar. Why not for myself? Well, here's the thing. I know when my back/neck/hips hurt, I can (and do) stretch, do yoga, go for a walk. I can manage my own pain and reason about where it came from and what I can do about it. Bar can't. All he can do is get grumpy about doing work, or worse--buck me off because I don't pay attention to him hurting.

Is the price of body work worth my own safety? Oh, I'd say yes, yes indeed it is.

Calabar's withers, our saddling challenge

2011-09-05T16:25:00.001-07:00

Bar's withers are not just steep, they are long. Even nice pads with wither cut-outs don't have a hole big enough to give him complete wither freedom. Peter suggested being sure to create some space between Bar's withers and the pad, too. I've tried that in the past, but not had a lot if luck keeping the space there while I ride. Must try harder.

And it's definitely the withers where we are having issues. I could recreate the twitch simply by touching that bony protrusion after our lesson yesterday. On the plus side, I could also get him to walk it off when it would flare up during the lesson.

He is still getting a visit from Wonder-masseuse Karen tomorrow because I think it will help. It certainly won't hurt, that's for sure.

The saddle we are trying also seems to be working. It's wide enough for him, stays off his shoulders and is high enough to give good wither clearance. It also stays in one place, which us fairly important. My saddle tends to slide back which means it is likely too narrow for Bar.

Glad the puzzle pieces are fitting together. And, yes, glad I was over-reacting too.

Coming soon in print -- a new forum for my horse stories

2011-09-03T12:24:00.000-07:00

Calabar, my big brown muse, anxiously awaiting my first column

I've been writing off and on for our local horse publication, Sonoma County Horse Journal, for the last several months. It's a quarterly publication and I've submitted several things as a reader that have been well-received.

Cool, right?

Well the editor, JoDean Nicolette, offered me a regular column! She has several trainers who write for each issue, but likes my writing style and my perspective as a learner.

The writing is the easy part, but then came the challenge: "What do you want to call your column?" JoDean asked.

Uh. Drat. Titles, headlines and catchy one-line advertising lines are my nemesis. Always have been.

"How about 'Up and Down the Learning Curve?'" I said to Steve. "Too complicated," he said. Katie just told me no.

Then my marvelous and intelligent daughter came up with several ideas based on the places sand goes when you fall off before blithely tossing out, "Spitting Sand."

Brilliant.

So my column will be called "Spitting Sand -- A Learner's Journey" and debuts in the next Sonoma County Horse Journal, due out shortly.

What more could a horse junkie and amateur writer wish for? I guess I could wish my dad were here to laugh, too, but I know he's proud of me wherever he is.

The withers tell a story

2011-09-02T19:58:00.001-07:00

Tonight I got to the barn an hour ahead of schedule (yes, I actually escaped work early) with a goal in mind: try another saddle to see if I got the twitchy response from Bar.

We didn't quite get to the riding part of this exercise, but I got my answer pretty quickly in any case.

First, I brushed him down and poked at his neck in the places I suspected were causing the problem. He tolerated this with only mild irritation. Then I put the English saddle on his back, Calabar peeking around his shoulder at me with mild interest.

I pulled the cinch under his chest and buckled it loosely, intending to take him down to the round pen and warm him up.

The twitching started almost immediately.

I unbuckled the saddle and the twitching stopped. I probed the soft depression below his withers and the twitching started again. I tightened the cinch again with the identical result.

Hm.

So I took the saddle off and explored his withers and the area at the top of his shoulders. I found lots of (as Karen calls it) "junk" in there. Trigger points and tightness, places that made the big brown head bounce up and down and swing towards me like I might get (but didn't) a nip.

Hm.

Then I put a nice thick pad and Lena's saddle on him and that was okay, even after I cinched him up. Until we walked down to the arena and stood there awhile. Then the twitching started again.

Peter asked me whether I thought it was just Calabar not wanting to work at dinner time, but I told him I didn't think so since it's happened a not-dinner time and has not happened at dinner time.

I also dug my fingers in all the way around the top of his scapula, on both sides of the withers and in the shoulder and found lots of areas that felt like they could use some relaxing and attention. There were a couple areas where the slightest push would trigger the twitches, too.

So I did as much massage as he would tolerate, plus some stretching and liniment. (Sore No More is our favorite--Calabar is not fond of Vetrolin at all.)

My first thought is saddle fit, and Steve pointed to arthritis, too. Karen will be out on Tuesday and I'll have her look at our saddles, as well as watch him move with and without me on his back. Peter thinks he may even have some saddles I can try and will help me figure out padding, too.

I'll be relieved when I'm more sure, but I think I have a good answer to work from. And one that doesn't make me panic.

It may also be that trying not to worry about it for so long made me avoid trying to find an answer. And let that be a lesson to me.

Calabar gets twitchy

2011-09-01T20:31:00.000-07:00

I'm trying not to worry. I'm trying not to be terrified and turn this into something bigger than it is. I'm trying not to direct energy into something negative.

But I am worried. And vaguely terrified. And still trying not to send energy down this path.

Back in July, when we were up at Slide playing with cows, Calabar had a spasm of sorts. He started twitching--like a super bad fly twitch--and shaking his head, almost violently, but gave me time to get off and was fine after that. At the time, we attributed it to too much excitement and him needing to let go of some energy.

But now it's happened two (maybe three? I try not to count) more times in less stressful situations.

It's not predictable, really. I can go for an hour lesson, working hard, and he's fine. I can get on him and walk and trot lightly for five minutes and it happens.

I don't even want to Google it because I'm sure there are all kinds of horrid things this could be, many of them incurable "put him out to pasture" things. And that is somewhere my heart is no where near ready to go.

God I love this horse.

My very first step was to contact Karen, our wonder-masseuse, to get her opinion and have her come out as soon as she can. She thinks it sounds like C1 or C2 and gave me some things to test, so I did. I put my hand behind his cheek and moved his big, brown head from one side to the other to see if there was any stiffness. There is, on the right side in particular. No heat in the joint, but tightness abounds.

In my perfect world, he'd be doing it to get out of work. But he doesn't do it all the time and when it happens, he is very agitated and clingy afterwards. He's a good actor, but that would be an Oscar-caliber (pun intended) performance.

I can't afford a lot of vet care. I can't afford a lot of tests. I'm not even sure I'd put him through it even if I could, knowing that if it's bad enough for tests, bad enough that Karen can't sense it (and help me fix it), there isn't much I can do but turn him out.

I have put this post off for over a month because I know all of my three readers can tell me lots of things I may not be ready to hear. For my sake, just send good energy to Bar. Or tell me I'm being silly. I can deal with that just fine.

We're going for a trail ride this weekend, both because we all need to and to see if anything happens.

I really, really hope I'm over-reacting, or that it's a relatively easily cure.

The alternative makes it too hard to breathe.

Remembering to balance

2011-08-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

Our journey has ended. We're at home, relaxing on a Sunday after a trip to the barn and a nice ride for both of us. The laundry is in process and I'm studiously ignoring any urge to think about work until tomorrow morning. There are surely hundreds of emails lurking in my inbox even now, and some of them may even be as urgent as the sender thinks they are.

Right now, I’m happy to still be ignorant of all that has transpired in my absence—even if it means I will be buried again next week.

I made a vow while we were traveling, though, as I felt the knots in my shoulders work their way loose and as I took deeper and deeper breaths of pine-scented air. No matter how crazy things get at work, even if I can’t see how I will get it all done, there has to be time taken for a few crucial things--a daily walk and a daily (or almost daily) ride. The work will always be there, but my ability to manage it effectively depends on my mental state being up to the task. If I don’t remember to breathe and take moments during the day to step away from all of it, to let go of all the noise in my head, all the demands on my time and energy, I will not only be hurting myself, I’ll be hurting the business as well.

I have not written a lot about my job specifically, only as it relates to keeping me away from the ponies. Mostly, I wanted to keep the blog about the horses and leave my “other” life out of it. But as the balance has shifted in the past few months, I’m finding it harder and harder to keep work from leaking into the horse part of my life, so it has ended up here more and more often—even just as side comments and grousing about not seeing my horses enough.

I work for a company that provides service, technology and financing--primarily to the medical industry. We have learned that in order to effectively help facilities and even smaller practices, we need to help them manage their collateral (medical claims) and all the processes around getting those claims paid. We have lots of technology and expertise to do this, but the challenge is often convincing the entrenched staff to do what’s best and smart. Not what they've done for the last 25 years, or what they did at the last three facilities, or just how they've "always done it." Even when we’ve effectively increased their income by 10%, it is still an uphill battle more often than not.

It gets exhausting, and there is never a thank you--there is only the next thing that needs to be fixed. There is no shortage of opportunity out there for us to build our business and grow, but if I’m going to continue to be a part of it, I need to learn to let a lot go, to turn it off, to walk away.

My boss, the owner and CEO, is an entrepreneur. They are a different breed of humans, I swear. His energy and ability to put pieces together is remarkable and inspiring, and it is incredibly easy to get lost in his enthusiasm and pour all of yourself into his vision.

And it's a good vision. There are so many inefficiencies in the medical billing world, so many cracks where money slips away with barely a whimper, that with just a tiny bit of effort, good technology and tenacious staff, the revenue needle can move--and move significantly. The insurance companies don't like it, but too bad for them. I run the operations--from managing our staff as well as the customer relationships to solving simple IT issues in the office to making follow-up calls to the insurance companies. Basically, whatever it takes. And sometimes, a lot of the time, it takes a lot.

So how do I keep my energy in this? It is definitely not 10 hour days and checking email on vacation (which I didn’t do). It is remembering what we're doing and that we are doing good things while making our own business work, too. It is also doing what Steve and I just did on a daily and smaller scale. Turn off the phone. Walk away from the email. Breathe. Walk. Ride. Repeat often.

This first week back will be a rough test. The two weeks before we left, I didn't get out for a walk even once. Sitting is sooo bad. So bad. It wreaks havoc on your spine and joints AND slows down your metabolism. I do not need that kind of help. Particularly as I become "a woman of a certain age."

So. Big test coming up. Steve says to remember that sense of peace stealing over my soul the first time we lost the cell phone signal. That was pretty good, but it was actually even better when I got back to "civilization" and told my boss I needed to not check in until we got back. When I chose to disconnect was when my chest finally loosened for real.

I just have to make that choice daily, and certainly before I'm ready to run off and join the circus to get away.

Time away

2011-08-24T21:38:00.000-07:00

I love being away. I love having the time to breathe, to not think about how to convince the client to do the right thing to keep their own business afloat.

And sitting here, watching lightening strikes over the Sisters in Oregon, listening to the rumble of thunder in the background? It's really improving my outlook on life.

Though even with some (rented) horse time today, I do admit to missing my own crazy ponies.

If I can only figure a halfway point (say, Shasta?), we could make a journey up here with the horses. They would love it. There is so much to explore, so many things to see and do. We just need a spot about 5 hours from home, the first stop. A place for Calabar and Lena to get out, stretch their legs and feel comfortable before we load them up and head up here to Northwest adventures.

Meanwhile, the lightening continues to flash outside.

It is a beautiful, powerful world. I'm glad I'm in it.

Aches and pains

2011-08-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

I can't decide if I'm getting old or just finally using my body hard enough to notice it. Or maybe just using my body harder than it's used to?

Calabar and I had a great lesson yesterday. Lots of hard work at the trot and canter, still in the round pen to work on position and balance.

There is much work to be done, but an inkling of progress was made.

Towards the end, as we were working on the canter, my rib cage kinda started to hurt. Like a charlie horse, but maybe a little worse. Later, as I gasped with every movement, Steve asked if perhaps I could have mentioned the pain and suggested we try something different for awhile. Well of course we could have. Only other things were hurting, too, and it didn't seem so bad at the time.

Later it was bad. It's not so bad now, but it is definitely still there. At least breathing isn't painful at this point, so we are improving.

My guess is I tore some scar tissue loose from when I broke my rib(s) last year. Pain was in the same place, only felt a little different and nothing was moving this time (big PHEW there).

On the plus side, if the scar tissue is looser, it should help improve my flexibility, which--according to Peter--needs a lot of work. "Roll with the horse!" he says. My back does not comply with verbal commands, it appears, and I continue to bounce more than we'd all like. Bar especially, though he's the most tolerant all things considered. (Particular considering it's his back I'm bouncing upon.)

The lesson? Sometimes it pays to only look at the plus side. I also gave myself a break (not a painful one) today, which seemed prudent for a couple reasons: a) it hurts to move, let alone ride and b) I'm on vacation next week and would like to enjoy it.

Calabar didn't mind in any case, and we should be able to regroup later in the week for some work before Steve and I take of Saturday for our horse-less camping adventures in the Northwest.

Best to get some ridin' in before we go, eh?

Forrest gives us a scare

2011-08-14T19:11:00.000-07:00

Horses have the reputation of being, well, horses and hurting themselves doing dumb things.

We have had a few minor instances with Calabar and Lena, but Forrest did a good job Friday of reminding us all that sometimes horses do goofy things and pay the price for it. Of course, Katie had to pay the price for it, too. She's going to be working to pay off vet bills for quite awhile--with the joys of horse-ownership come glorious pitfalls as well.

The day ended normally enough, even on time for once. I was packing up to leave the office when my phone rang. Steve told me Forrest had gotten hung up in his gate and opened up his fetlock badly enough that Peter thought we needed to call the vet. Peter is not an alarmist, not by any stretch of the imagination, so when he says to call the vet it's time to call the vet.

I called and texted Katie and headed to the barn to see what damage had been wrought.

Forrest had been pawing while waiting for his grain and managed to get his fetlock joint caught in the lower inside corner of the gate, right below the hinge. The hinge wedged it in so well, Steve couldn't pull it free and neither could Peter. This naturally led to anxiety and struggles from Forrest, until he fell backwards and managed to pull his leg free himself. It probably wasn't pretty, but at least he was free. By the time I got there, his right front fetlock was bloody and swollen and he was lame on the leg.

Katie got there and we called our vet only to find she was away for the weekend. And why is it that horses don't hurt themselves during regular business hours, anyway?

Leslie had, as always, left the number for a substitute who told Katie to cold-hose the leg while we waited.

Because of the type of injury, how it happened, and where it was, the vet recommended an x-ray to rule out any severe bone or joint damage. I'd have taken pictures of the cool set up, but I was wearing my own lead apron and holding Forrest at the time. Plus, Katie was afraid the news would be dire and didn't really want photo documentation.

Dire would have been if there had been severe bone damage (there wasn't), or if the joint had been damaged (it wasn't), but x-rays and then a joint tap gave us good news. The options for treatment had there been separation in the joint or significant bone damage are too expensive for us to consider, so Forrest could have ended up as a very young pasture ornament. Luckily and to all our relief, he has other things in his future. Like daily leg wraps, four weeks off, including at least one week of stall rest.

Forrest says he was framed and when can he come out? Jail is no fun! I told him it was his own dumb fault, so suck it up.

The plus side is his fetlock joint in general is in fine shape--especially for a horse off the track--and I got so see some really cool field veterinary technology!

Pets (and our horses are definitely pets) are wonderful and add so much to life. They do, however, sometimes take big chunks out of your wallet in the process. That is part of the lesson, part of the responsibility.

Thank you, bareback pad

2011-08-11T20:34:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Back to lessons

2011-08-07T19:27:00.001-07:00

Jess and Bar in Jamestown

After a three week hiatus, Bar and I had another lesson with Peter today.

Peter is trying hard to figure out how to untwist me, particularly at the trot. The walk is okay, and I even think I do okay at the canter. But the trot throws all my flaws into harsh relief.

I put too much weight in my left foot (doesn't matter which direction we're traveling), and struggle to keep my lower legs behind the cinch. I bounce too high out of the saddle and don't lead with my pelvis when I post.

So Peter had me perch, not post. Put weight in both feet, shorten up my reins and arch my back. It was a little bit like what Ike had me do, though less forward. Ike had me much more forward, arms up over Bar's neck, my butt back over Bar's back--almost racing position.

The techniques were a little different, but the results were similar. I was less twisted, and Bar moved up into my hands. In fact, the brown ears pricked forward and he relaxed, confident in his ability to carry me in this familiar position.

It was a good lesson and gave me concrete things to work with until next week, which helps me a lot. Reading and visualizing are helpful, but having specific exercises to use gives me ways to gauge my progress.

However, my thighs currently feel like we've bounced our way through an 80's aerobics work out.

Calabar the wonder-horse

2011-08-06T21:33:00.001-07:00

It has been a long couple of weeks at work--very busy and very stressful. Luckily, I do have the benefit of horse-therapy, in addition to a top-notch therapist.

Thanks to Bar for reminding me there us more to life than the mess that is inherent in the medical industry.

Lurking daughter, crouching trainer

2011-08-03T20:11:00.000-07:00

After my last post, I received so much support and positive feedback, I thought it really couldn't get any better.

But it did.

I got to the barn Monday night, late, and Katie was still there. She'd gone to the barn around 2 p.m., so I was a little surprised to see her perched on Forrest's paddock when I arrived, frazzled and worn out from work.

My plan was to get Bar out and run him around the round pen. Katie had an alternative plan. "Get on him bareback, Mom."

So I did, and we proceeded to work on my position. She found out my legs don't fall the same way--likely due to the twist in my pelvis--and that I turn into a tight little ball of, well, tension when asked to trot.

We walked a little while, getting my hips to follow his rolling, shambling, movement. Then she said, "Okay, trot," and watched my entire body lock up as I then proceeded to try not to fall off because I was now a rigid block of human no longer flowing with her horse.

It's a wonder Katie didn't just shake her head and walk away, but she didn't.

"Again," she said. Kind of like Yoda, only more concise.

I told her that trotting bareback was kind of painful and she offered to get the bareback pad, then told me to suck it up when I said we didn't have time.

I think she's channeling Bela Karolyi.

It was kind of surreal to have her directing and helping me, but in a good way. And it was cool! Minus the crashing together of pelvis and withers, that is, which is painful and apparently my fault in any case.

The general consensus is that Bar is indeed a pretty good horse and that if I could just relax, this would work a whole lot better. He doesn't know much, but is fairly patient overall with my efforts. I know a little more (at least in theory if not practice), just need to breathe and not turn into a block of granite on his back.

But.. we can get there. I know it. And not just because my daughter is as stubborn as they come. I'm as determined as I've ever been to get better at something. This is special--my horse, me, riding. It has defined much of the last six years of my life. It has shaped my physical world (particularly the last couple of years), my goals and day-to-day actions, and my visions of the future.

It is teaching me to be a better human in this universe at the same time it offers salvation from said universe with the warm, earthy smell of dusty horse, hay, and seasoned leather.

Provided I can leave the office before dinner time, that is. But that is another blog post for another time.

More riding needed

2011-07-31T18:58:00.000-07:00

It seemed to me that I'd been riding more and feeling more confident, and therefore riding better. And maybe I actually am, but maybe it doesn't show so much to other people, yet. I heard via the grapevine that I still slide off to one side in the saddle and that it seems like I rode better when we first got to the barn -- nearly 6 years ago, now.

Sigh.

I'd say most of it is fear and the struggles I have now trying to relax in the saddle after all my spills. Telling myself to relax is apparently not quite enough. Sometimes, I actually manage it, though, and the difference is amazing. Especially when I remember to breathe!

The shift forward in the saddle (recommended by Ike) has also really seemed to help. I have so much further to go but that little bit gave me a better place to start from, so the rest of my body can start to fall into place. As long as my shoulders stay back (always an argument) my arms feel comfortable in that nice bent-elbow place, not like I'm too far back and trying to compensate by leaning my upper body forward and do who-knows-what with my arms.

So it was a little disheartening to hear that feedback, even though I'm sure it was well-intentioned. I may try riding Lena this week to see how much of a difference that makes and--if it is a positive switch--try to channel it when I ride Bar.

The bottom line is I need to ride more. Period. I will never teach my body what it needs to know, what it needs to do, unless we do it.

I am riding a little more than I had been, though not as much as we both need. Even if it's just tacking on a few more minutes here and there, the more I ride, the more I start to relax. The more I relax, the more peace and balance I find. The peace and balance lead to more enjoyment, which leads to riding more. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Bar has proven himself to be a worthy partner and has gone back to taking care of me after the last bit of we-don't-really-know-what-it-was. So. I just have to bring myself to trust him a little more--every day, every ride.

And breathe. Just breathe.

Braving the outdoor arena--to play

2011-07-24T18:53:00.000-07:00

As my closest associates know, the outdoor arena and I have been at odds for some time now.

It's big. It's open. It's a little scary (though it turns out more scary for me than for Calabar), and the ground is really, really hard. (It's where I broke my arm in 2010.)

But I really wanted to play today. In particular, I wanted to try what Linda and Steve (and Rain and Lena) did up at Slide--practicing cutting with each other--only with Bar and Lena this time.

I had to breathe first, and that took awhile.

I warmed him up in the indoor arena first, then saddled and worked him a tiny bit more on the ground inside. Then I got on him--still inside--loped around the round pen, lost my left stirrup, stayed calm and in the saddle and decided we were ready to go outside. Well. He was ready all along. I had to buck up and join him in the readiness.

My heart was pounding as I led him out to the outdoor arena, so I sang to him. To both of us. In this case, it was "Angel from Montgomery" by Bonnie Raitt/John Prine. The line, "Just give me one thing/I can hold onto/To believe in this living/Is just a hard way to go" has resonated since Remy died and reminds me that life is what you choose to make of it, so make it good.

Today was good. We didn't get up over a walk with our mirroring, but he listened. When we wandered around the arena, he responded beautifully (and promptly) to light leg pressure and side-passed whichever way I asked. He walked through narrowly spaced barrels and chased down Lena when I asked him to. He never once acted up or challenged me, though he did ask for clarification a couple times.

I think this means I need to trust him just a tiny bit more. That's what he says anyway.

Real cow horses

2011-07-22T22:12:00.000-07:00

Lena is cow-y. She reminded us of this when we were up at Slide. She is not afraid and can handle moving cows around as needed. She even likes chasing them.

But we got to see a real cow horse--Truly a Hot Pepper--give the cows (and her rider) a run for the money.

This here is a National Champion Cutting horse, and damned if she didn't prove it. She made all the youngsters look like, well, youngsters. She made Tiffany laugh the whole time. She made the ex-racehorse stand perfectly still and watch.

In other words, she was awesome--everything a real cow horse should be.

Back home

2011-07-18T17:01:00.000-07:00

Steve and I are relaxing in the living room and Calabar and Lena were last seen munching grain in a most contented manner. Calabar did have to do a corner-to-corner inspection of his pen ("Is this my poop?") and a good hearty roll, but all indications are that the normal accommodations are acceptable.

This trip was incredible. Not only because it gave me a much-needed mental break from work, but because it really showed me my horse. Cheri said the difference the work we have done together is obvious, which made the weekend complete. The best part was watching him absorbing the action--totally transfixed, very curious, but not really afraid. Okay, the really best part was watching him drop his pretty Thoroughbred head, pin his ears, and give cows the stink eye--just like a real (and really tall) cow horse.

One of the other this-will-hopefully-stick-in-my-memory-forever was watching Lena and Bar move in tandem in the big arena. I caught just a snippet on video, but they are so lovely together. Like four-legged figure skaters, matched in movement, balance and cadence. She does, however, stop better than he does. (The video may not work, but I'll try and if not, try again later.)

Such a great trip, such a needed break for all four of us.
And tomorrow, it's back to the grind. I guess I'm ready, though the temptation to run off and be a cowgirl is awfully strong.

Lazy last day

2011-07-17T15:56:00.000-07:00

After yesterday's excitement, all four of us were moving a little slow today, so we all relaxed. Ike, Cheri, Dave and Linda were back down at the other property, so the ranch was quiet and we were lazy, lazy humans and horses. Calabar and Lena ate breakfast and promptly headed to the back of their paddocks for naps. Contrary to all the other days we've been here, they were not hanging out at their gates looking for the day's next activity.

Steve and I did rouse ourselves finally, after noticing some movement in the paddocks outside. We thought it was only fair to give them some down time after all we did yesterday, but when the pacing started, we knew we needed to get them out for a little work.

So we saddled and headed down to the covered arena--which has had some major engineering after this year's record snowfall--and did some very slow, very simple work. Walking, trotting, side passing into the corners, and the laziest loping I think I've ever seen either one of them do.(Why, yes, I did ask my horse for a lope--and he gave it to me. Grudgingly, but he gave it to me.)

And then came the best part as far as they were concerned. Rolling. Rolling a lot. The paddocks are on a slope and so rolling is a bit challenging, though Bar has managed. But the ground is a little hard, too, so the arena dirt was like heaven for both of them. I know Bar is a roller. It is his favorite thing next to carrots and a huge part of the reason he puts up with me--I always let him roll. Always. Lena must be, too, though I don't handle her enough to know how much she does or doesn't roll. Today it was a lot. Both sides, several times. Bar, too.

After we rode, we unsaddled and it took all of about 4 seconds for both of them to drop down and start the chiropractic process. I could almost here their spines realign. Not to mention the ecstatic groaning and full body shaking. No, there was no camera again, sorry.

Steve just did the same thing with his back using a step-down, and I'll probably do a little more yoga here in just a minute. I'm finding my body is not quite as supple as it once was. Drat.

However, despite the aches and pains, I'm actually not sure I wouldn't run away from work and become a ranch hand up here.

Cow horses

2011-07-16T17:40:00.000-07:00

Can't I go in there?

We had an awesome day today. Lena got to help with real cows and Calabar got to show people even crazy ex-racehorses can stare down a cow or two. Or seven. Maybe more, I lost count.

Getting the two of them in the trailer this morning was a bit of a challenge, but we prevailed. ("Why are we leaving? We like it here??")

Then we rolled down the road about an hour to the other property in Jamestown to see if Lena remembered cows and if Calabar could deal with cows. (Racetracks, after all, don't have a lot of cows wandering around.)

I was only a tiny bit nervous. I mean, what could go wrong besides everything?

It turns out my horse is a budding cow horse in racehorse clothing. Who knew? Oh, right. He did.

The first thing they got to do is run loose in the huge, round custom arena Ike had built specifically for cow work. The outer arena (all welded pipe) is 150 feet across, with the cattle pens attached to the back side. The cattle pens then open directly into the inner arena, which is 80 x 100 feet, and can be closed off to work cattle inside.

It's awesome. The footing is deep sand and the big sprinkler was going around overhead like a big, soggy, automatic lunge whip. Lena and Bar took off together racing each other and the sprinkler. They were beautiful and graceful, breathtaking to watch. Did I have my camera? No. I did go back down to the truck to get it, but by then they were mostly done blowing off steam and rolling, except for one full speed dash by the ex-racehorse that I was too slow to catch. Besides, I think that would be akin to stealing his spirit and the photo would never have done it justice in any case. Or so I tell myself, anyway.

Then Ike had us take them up to where they could see the cows from the other side of the fence. Bar blew a little, but didn't spook or move away, so the next step was to take them in with the cows--all still with Steve and I on the ground leading our respective equines. Lena went right in, of course, and headed right to the middle of the herd without batting an eye. Bar walked in with me fine, and the cows obligingly moved away from the big, brown horse. He and I stopped and watched Lena, then Ike had Steve and Lena push a couple cows towards us to see what Bar would do. Stood like a rock, did he, and so he and I walked forward driving the cows back to the herd.

We took them back down to the trailer and saddled up, then went back up to the nifty arena, working alongside Cheri, Tiffany, and Linda (another Slide devotee) as they warmed up the other horses.

The other new thing for Bar (besides the bovine component) was being around this many new horses all at once and not being on the racetrack. Surely the various spotted horses gave him some comfort, and I was able to keep him mellow and trotting even when other horses came loping up behind him. We only had a couple minor arguments about it--particularly when Lena would lope on around him--but I wanted him to listen to me instead of going along with the crowd and he did.

Ike on Tango

Then it was time to work cows. Calabar, Lena, Steve, and me were initially relegated to the outside of the inner arena and I took a few pictures before nervous glances from Cheri and Steve made me put away the camera so I could be sure to hold on if anything happened. Safety before journalism, I guess.

The very first time a cow came close to us on the other side of the fence, Calabar proved I didn't have to worry. He arched his neck, dropped his head, and stared that cow right in the eye. He blew a little too, just for emphasis. The cow chose to go the other direction.

Lena just wanted to get into the action, and got to the next set of cows.

Cowboy Steve and Lena on the other side of the fence

While Steve held the right corner and Cheri held the left, Calabar and I worked the railing from our side. He never once stepped away, he never once spooked. Every time a cow came close, that big neck arched, that head dropped, and the cow went the other way. The ear pinning came next. I think he was watching the cutting horses and saw he was missing that part. He even banged himself on the fence once going for a cow.

At one point, while I was still in the saddle, he started to twitch and shiver. I got worried he wasn't feeling well and immediately got off to check him. He was fine and the general consensus was he'd built up a lot of nervous energy from so much new stuff and it had to go somewhere. I'm awfully glad it didn't go into bucking or spooking, but I opted to stay on the ground as his cow back-up after that. (Besides, then I could take pictures.)

Calabar after the energy release with me on the ground at the end of his lead rope

After the trained horses had worked, Lena and Rain got their chance. Rain is owned by long-time Slide friends Dave and Linda. Linda and Steve started out cutting each other, which involved what would have been impressive horse ballet if it were planned as well as much laughter. Calabar was dozing a little at this point, since there were no scary cows to worry about.

Cow horse ballet by Lena and Rain

Then Lena and Steve got to work a real cow all by themselves. As long a day as it had been for us so far, Lena and Steve did a great job and learned a lot about working together mentally as well as physically.

Lena Rey the fierce. "Run, cow, run!"

What an amazing day. Lena had so much fun and Calabar proved with a cow-horse worthy glint in his eye that ex-racehorses can do more than just run fast.

So proud of Lena. So proud of Bar. So proud of Steve and me, too.

Photos and an update from Slide

2011-07-15T17:59:00.000-07:00

Calabar blocking Lena from the carrot delivery person

This may not be my most coherent blog post ever, so I apologize in advance for rambling or any nonsensical phrasing. Well, more nonsensical than normal. I am barely awake and Steve is "deep breathing" on the sofa across from me, but here is an update of our trip so far.

"I cannot reach the carrots from here, so come closer."

It is beyond wonderful to be here. The horses are happy, the weather is fantastic (low-80s!), and I have fairly successfully ignored work for an entire day so far. This is a very good thing.

Calabar was far less excitable than the last time were here and we accomplished a nice working trot. Well, maybe not a technical working trot, but a trot that worked for both of us. I moved my seat much more forward and lo and behold, my balance improved. I'm not sure how this will play out with the work I'm doing with Peter, but my legs ended up in the right position, didn't swing forward, and Calabar was much happier with my position overall. Perhaps because it was familiar to him, perhaps because I wasn't bouncing around and swinging my legs to and fro.

We worked on side-passing at the walk and trot and, after I asked him in the same spot too many times, Bar proceeded to anticipate my request. After that, he just moved to the left whenever we got to that spot. So then I had to move him over in other places, but he still insisted that this one place was "the" side pass area. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the gate being in the same vicinity. Surely not.

Lena and Steve also worked on side passing and balance, and both came out of the lesson happier and more comfortable. Steve used the cutting saddle for the first time in a long time and remembered how much he liked it.

The new saddle pads are working very well for both horses, both for the arena work and for trail rides. We took a brief trail ride up behind the property and with the new pads and new balance, downhill went much better for Calabar than it ever has. Of course, good footing helped, too.

Slide Mountain Ranch is truly one of my favorite places on earth and the horses seem to agree. Both are calm, but curious, eating, drinking, eliminating nicely and dozing quietly. One tiny glitch, though. We had them out in the same pen, but it appears my brown horse is a little too dominant. When Steve went out to feed this morning, Lena wouldn't come down to the front, so he separated them. We'll try again if other horses show up, or after they've had a few good days of work.

Calabar also discovered a new favorite activity--splashing in his water trough. Not sure if he was investigating the gold fish or just cooling off, but I don't think I've ever seen him with his leg in his water before. New pastime? I hope not!

"There's fish in here! I sees them!"

And here he is after I caught him. Luckily, he didn't do any damage to the tank, the pump, or himself. Dork.

"What? I'm hot."

Tomorrow, we are going down to work cows. Lena should be fine, but I told Calabar I don't expect him to turn into a ranch horse overnight just because Seabiscuit did. I'll just be glad if I can get some good pictures of real cow horses and introduce the ex-racehorse to real cows without any major mishaps.

More later, when I can keep my blasted eyes open!

Off to Slide for a break

2011-07-13T20:04:00.000-07:00

Katie and Remy, on one of our last walks to the River

After the last few days, our much-anticipated trip to Slide Mountain Ranch is even more welcome.

It's just Steve and me, Lena and Calabar. After Remy died (I really hate saying that), I asked Katie if she wanted to come with us, but she decided to stay home.

I've tied up as much as I can at work. We have hay and grain in the truck. Steve has loaded the trailer, including the new saddle pads that arrived just in time today. The snacks and books are sitting at the top of the stairs and the load of horse clothes is fluffing in the drier.

My eyes are still puffy from two days of crying. My morning yoga routine has been disrupted, partly because downward dog is lacking the ever-helpful face licks it used to have. Not to mention missing the face licks fills up the downward facing nose with tears and snot. Most distracting, as well as making deep breathing a challenge.

But we're headed out in the morning to one of my favorite places in the world and maybe I can start missing the little dog less--at least for a couple days.

Maybe, but no promises.

Life is short, sometimes too short

2011-07-11T12:32:00.000-07:00

This morning was a long time ago, our house is quieter and emptier than it was just yesterday, and there is suddenly a smallish-sized, dog-shaped hole in our family.

Remy the wonder-dog--Katie's 4-month old mutt--was a happy, bouncy pup just yesterday morning. He tore around the house, chased a ball up and down the stairs, tormented the cats, nosed around the backyard, ate, drank, did his duties outside and never once hinted at the malaise inside him.

By the time he showed symptoms last evening, the vet told us it was likely already too late to have done any good. This morning, despite the valiant efforts of the team of vets and techs at Pet Care in Santa Rosa, Remy went to that place all good dogs go when their time with us is done.

I wish we had more say in that because two months was not nearly enough time with the pup who managed to weasel his way into my "no dogs allowed" heart.

He somehow got into poison--probably rat poison--though it seems unlikely it was around here since all our neighbors have dogs and/or cats. The vet said it could even have been up to two weeks ago, so there is really no way to know where it came from for sure. He bled out into his chest and abdomen, possibly even into his brain and spinal chord, causing fluid build-up around his heart. His heart stopped twice and he was revived twice, but the third time they couldn't get him back.

I keep thinking I hear the tag on his collar, and sometimes I do because Katie is carrying it around. Katie's boyfriend's dog not only spent a half hour looking for Remy, when he found the new pile of dirt in the backyard, he started to dig there. Thankfully, we had placed lots of rocks on top to prevent Dax (or other, wilder creatures) from doing just that.

My heart hurts, more than I thought it would, and not just for Katie. I miss that floppy-eared little dog and his fine spirit, good manners and funny little voice.

For as short a time as he bounced through our lives, Remington has left a mighty large hole in this family.

Rest in Peace, my little Booza-Dog. I miss you.

Calabar putting up with post-lesson silliness

2011-07-10T20:43:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Our lesson today came with some illumination for the rider. Peter was looking at my legs today, and noticed that at the walk, both legs were in the proper position. It is the trot-- and as always, going to the left is worse--where things start to really go astray.

BUT! Today we had an epiphany of sorts. First, I tried to drop my left heel down further and Peter told me my left foot wasn't the issue, my right foot was. Then, as we trotted around and I worked on my posting, I realized (gasp!) 90% of my weight was in my left foot, leaving the right foot to flounce about out of position.

One of those Aha! moments in riding, actually.

And afterwards, Calabar allowed a bit of silliness from his owner. Of course, for some reason, there was some dancing (okay, spinning) on the way past the outdoor arena. So we went up and down the hill a few times just to be sure the scary imaginary beast was conquered. The second trip did it, but I did it one more time to be sure. Yep. Beast conquered. Short owner victorious.

We'll count today a win, thank you very much.

Nostalgia strikes

2011-07-06T21:25:00.000-07:00

I had a nostalgic moment earlier today--actually, a sad moment if you want the truth.

My golf (yes, I did say golf) instructor--after finding out I really am that crazy horse person in the group--wanted to know good places to take her nephew and daughter to ride and/or learn to ride.

Well. My favorite place is Slide Mountain, of course, and (as I've often said) we wouldn't be where we are today without our early adventures at the best horse ranch in Gold Country.

Unfortunately, they don't offer lessons or trail rides on their horses anymore, so I have to come up with some local ideas for Helena (the aforementioned golf instructor). Stop laughing! Golf is good for me! It teaches me focus and control--both of which Bar agrees I need. It all eventually comes back to horses, after all.

At any rate.

I am looking for a riding instructor in Sonoma County, reasonable rates, well rounded, no specific discipline. I'll give her Peter's name, of course, as well as Annika at Wine Country Sporthorse for Dressage.

For trail riding, I'll recommend the Point Reyes outfit, as well as Jonathan Ayers in Armstrong Woods.

Any other Sonoma County recommendations are welcome, folks! Thanks!

Happy 4th and goodnight

2011-07-04T22:10:00.000-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Lesson while melting

2011-07-04T20:00:00.001-07:00

My big brown muse--musing

Bar and I did have our lesson yesterday, despite the fact that both of us needed much hydration after it was over.

Peter kept us at a walk and a trot within the round pen again, working on my center--just like I wanted to do. I felt better, more relaxed, more centered. Hot and sweaty, but more centered and less collapsed on my left side. Woo for progress!

We worked a lot on posting because apparently when I start to post, I fling my legs forward. Well, fling is a strong word, but they edge forward with every stride until we are completely out of position. And by we I mean me. Then I apparently use the reins to pull myself forward. And my "crazy" OTTB tolerates all of this! Yes, he's used to having people hang on his mouth, but that doesn't mean he has to like it. Or put up with it while I bounce around up there.

And yet he does.

Granted it was hot. But he went past his six-furlong-length attention span without any fuss, though he did try to go to the middle a few times. Still not sure that wasn't me misdirecting, though.

All in all, it was a low energy lesson, but a good one nonetheless. I will try to work on my posting and seat this week (maybe posting without stirrups would help?) so next week we can perhaps venture out of the round pen. Bar has the bend right at this point, he's just waiting for me to catch up with the rest of it all.

Back to why I do this

2011-07-04T17:40:00.000-07:00

Found this lovely post about the "Heart" of a horse on Horse Junkies United and it made me smile. Zulu sounds like a certain OTTB I know, and--now that you mention it--a Paint Horse, too.

This is what makes me stick with Calabar. I know if I can just figure out how to ask him, or rather how to ask him so he knows what I'm asking, he'll do anything for me. That means I have a certain responsibility, of course, not to ask him to do something that is too hard on him or that over-reaches what he's ready for.

Trust. That's what it all comes down to, really. And he does trust me--even when he's not sure why on earth we're doing something.

He trusts me enough to let me hang on his mouth while I figure out this whole posting thing and not object too much. (Peter did point out that he is used to that from the track, but still.)

He trusts me enough to chase a moving fake cow on a string even though he's never done that before, and don't I know racehorses don't chase cows?

And it's not that he doesn't occasionally insert his own opinion into the conversation, he does. But when he does, there is usually a good reason--even if I don't know what it is. "Figure it out, then let's discuss," he says.

But this is a horse who looks to me first and is always willing to put his head in the halter.

This is a horse that two weeks after a hard fall in the arena, carried me up and over a mountain, through a swarm of yellow jackets, and down a truly difficult trail without a whimper.

I have come back to that one episode in my darkest moments, recalling the way he decided not to panic, dump me, and take off--even when being stung by multiple yellow jackets. The way he picked his way slowly and carefully down 18" drop-offs with his long, Thoroughbred legs--even though he was hurting and exhausted. And the way he nuzzled me when I realized he was too sore to carry me any more and got off to walk beside him.

He has already taught me a lot, and we have a lot more to learn together. He's willing, I'm willing, and we have miles yet to travel with one another. His heart--extra heartbeat and all--is only part of it. My heart plays a small part in this funny journey, too.

Dog training

2011-07-04T13:12:00.000-07:00

Remy--back when he was even cuter than he is now

Ever since Katie brought home Remy the wonder-dog, we've all been exposed to various dog training methodologies. Mostly, Remy is in the right place to become a well-trained dog. We are pretty clear with the rules and cuteness is not a hall pass for bad behaviour. (Not that he doesn't totally try to work the cuteness angle, of course.)

As it turns out, horse training is good practice for dog training. The dynamics are a little different--being that dogs are hunters and horses are prey--but the fundamentals are essentially the same. You need to go into it with confidence and consistency, as well as leadership, and anything a dog can do a horse can do bigger.

In our case, it is very important to have Remy well trained because he will be a big dog and has the looks of an aggressive breed. Unfortunately, not all dog owners seem to follow this philosophy, and while the big dogs are, well, bigger, the little dogs seem to get away with worse behaviour. Steve and I had the chance to experience both this morning when we took Remy out on a walk--it's a good thing he's well trained, at least.

We live above the Russian River and even off-season, there are lots of dogs out here. During the summer months, we get lots of "foreigners" added to the mix as well.

On his walks, Remy is allowed to notice other dogs--usually behind fences--but to keep moving along on our way. Depending on the demeanour of the owner/dog combination we encounter outside the fences, there can sometimes be introductions.

Of all the dogs we ran into today, the worst was a Pomeranian who is a local. She made demonic noises and charged poor Remy, who had the good sense to give her wide berth. Her owner said, "Oh, she's the pack leader," as if that made it okay to have this evil presence living at the end of her leash. Personally, I don't care how "cute" your dog is, it needs to have manners. And the reason the little fanged cotton ball is the "pack-leader" is that her owner isn't, so she has to step in and take over. That is never good for the dog's well-being, and that little fluffy devil will hurt someone someday. The only thing that will save her from being put down is that she isn't considered one of the larger, "bully" breeds and so she'll probably get away with it.

I think that's wrong.

Case in point was one of the other dogs we met this morning--a Pit Bull (or mix) out with his two humans and their two smaller dogs. His owner at least had the good sense to wrap him in a bear hug when he charged at us, but again--wrong message for that dog. I have no issues with any of the "bully" breed dogs and in fact think they can make great pets--as long as their owners get the right training to be responsible caretakers for them. This dog got the message that he gets restrained (which is claustrophobic) whenever another dog comes into the picture, so therefore any other dog is a threat. It's either that or he receives physical attention when he acts aggressive, which is also not the right message. However, had that dog been allowed the lee-way and lack of discipline of the Pomeranian, he'd have been locked up or put down.

Whatever training method resonates with you--be it dog, horse, or cat (and good luck with that)--your job as their owner is to keep them safe. Part of keeping them safe is training them to be part of society--other dogs, other humans, cats, horses, whatever their environment is. You keep them safe by teaching them manners, how you expect them to behave, and correcting them when they overstep the boundaries. If you think it's too "mean" to discipline your dog, think of how it will feel to put down a dog you love because you couldn't control it enough to keep it from hurting someone else.

And that's enough heaviness and lecturing for one day, folks. Thanks for reading and--as always--your comments are appreciated.

Goals for today's lesson

2011-07-03T10:53:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact that it's hotter than I think is necessary here today (94 degrees is hot for this area), I am going to go for my lesson today. Probably no photos today, though. Steve will either be running errands or hiding at home under the redwoods in an attempt to stay cool.

My main goal today is to relax more. I would also like to see if Peter and I can figure out how to correct the way my body twists--at least the physical aspect--and start to fix it.

But that won't happen if I can't relax a little more, and in fact Cheri (of Slide Mountain fame) said that is the biggest key. If I can do that, everything else will fall into place.

Since I'm more relaxed on the trail, maybe Peter and I should try a lesson there instead!

What is our job?

2011-06-26T20:40:00.000-07:00

This video of Andreas Helgstrand at the WEG2006 Freestyle Final recently resurfaced and it both inspires and depresses me.

This horse--Blu Horse Matine--is magnificent. She is enjoying the entire exercise, dancing in time with the music and playing the whole time.

Not long after this, she was retired to become a brood mare--not unreasonable all things considered--and the world lost her. She died, in foal, after a paddock accident in which she broke her right front knee.

[UPDATE: WendyU sent me this link to a story explaining Blu Horse Matine's retirement was due to an injury that wouldn't heal, not just to make cute baby Blu's.]

So I ask you all, what is more important? Breeding the next champion or giving the existing horse a job they love?

There is no easy answer, and no right or wrong--certainly no black and white.

In the human species, some are meant to be brood mares and some are not. Are horses really so different?

I understand the economics. This mare was the potential broodmare to several champions. I know that the foal Zenyatta carries is worth millions.

But part of me cries out that it doesn't matter when the champion herself hasn't finished, that relegating her to the breeding pen takes away the fire we all admire--the fire that gives her a reason to exist. A job, as the plebeian among us might say.

I know. More human emotions being assigned to horses. But then again... horses are beings of extreme emotion, curiosity, play, and intelligence.

What we tell them, what works for us, is: "Thanks, you've done great working every day, interacting with your trainer and other humans, plus learning new things! Now go off and wander around in a pasture, be retired, and make babies!"

But does it really work for them? And is it fair? We've bred and raised them to compete, so how does the transition work for them and could we make it better? Could we perhaps take that ex-racehorse for a gentle ride even if we do have her in foal to a multi-million dollar stud? If she's happier, won't the foal be happier? And by happier, I of course mean healthier.

I admit this is a bit of a rant. I just think we (the collective horse-owning we) owe it to our horse buddies to give this a little bit of thought.

It certainly can't hurt.

Playing hooky

2011-06-25T19:50:00.001-07:00

We went on a trail ride today, and I knew from the get go that it would probably derail tomorrow's lesson.

I didn't care.

Neither did Bar, for that matter.

It was a gorgeous day in Northern California--not too hot, not too cold, sun shining down and a gentle breeze blowing.

The horses were initially a little suspicious. It has been months since the four of us have been out, though Lena had been out with Katie, Forrest, and Russell a few times.

Lena and Bar both headed to the back of their paddocks when we approached with their halters, staring at us . They'd heard the truck pull up. Heard us hitch up the trailer. Watched us take the tack down and get it loaded. They stared at us--side by side, separated by a wall of pipe panel--as we made encouraging noises from the front of said paddocks.

I walked back and haltered Bar and began to walk him towards his gate. Lena took one look and allowed Steve to capture her. She did, however, pause to make sure we really were all going going somewhere together.

Now we have never really had a problem getting both of them out, so either it's been way too long (a definite possibility), or they are a little barn sour. Or both.

We attempted to load Bar first as Lena has "issues" in the front--left turns taken too fast in particular. We had Lena tied to the side, fairly long, and while I was trying to get Bar to get his big, brown self in the trailer, she walked around and stuck her head in the trailer. So? We loaded her first and Calabar hopped in right after her.

"Hey. I'm out of frame.. helloo??"

On the way back, it worked a little differently. Bar hopped in first, then Lena Ray--nearly pulling Steve in behind her.

In the middle of it all was a great trail ride. With lots of tasty grass along the way. The horses were great--feisty and energetic, but controllable and having fun. I (as always) was more relaxed on the trail, which means Bar was also more relaxed.

Howz your grass? Mine is tasty!

A beautiful day. A great ride. Happy humans and their ponies. Can't ask for more than that.

Oh, and p.s. To the guy in the dual cab dark blue Dodge who continued on 116 as we turned right onto Mirabel at about 12:30 p.m. today? Was that your I.Q. or your sperm count? I have some more math for you. Horse trailer + crazy tourists + 25 mph speed limit through downtown Forestville = not a time to hurry. So deal with it and be a grown up. Oh, wait. You failed.

Why I do this

2011-06-20T21:11:00.000-07:00

I was busy surfing around tonight, checking in on blogs I hadn't read in awhile, when I came across one of my favorite author's "About" page.

Natalie is so right, though I wouldn't have known it until I adopted my own ex-racehorse.

"For those not experienced with retired racehorses, the training path can sometimes be rocky. Many unlucky Thoroughbreds bounce from owner to owner after what seemed like a match made in heaven at the initial adoption or purchase."

Rocky indeed. In Bar's and my case, that could be construed as an understatement.

And yet.

"The purpose of this blog is to ensure that people aren’t just adopting Thoroughbreds, but succeeding with Thoroughbreds."

My successes are not ribbons or higher jumps. At least not yet. My successes are riding my horse and figuring out how to express to him what it is I want and having the light bulb go off for him.

My success is a horse who puts his head in the halter willingly every time I walk into his paddock. My success is a horse who stands quietly while I saddle him. My success is a horse who looks back and sighs when I miss my leap onto his bare back but doesn't move--and then lets me try again.

Bar will not bounce to another owner. He is mine. I am his. We both know it, and it is all good.

Whose body is this, anyway?

2011-06-19T17:21:00.000-07:00

Bar and I had our long-awaited lesson today and I spent much of it convinced I had bent elbows.

The photographic evidence, however, proves me so very wrong. I don't understand how I can tell my body to do one thing and have it completely disregard my commands. Bah.

Luckily, Bar was gracious and charming and tolerated my ramrod straight arms and odd attempts at posting with quiet dignity and patience.

The lesson was good, and gave me lots to work on (as you can see), but the very best part was working quietly past my fear that Bar would act out when he got tired of all of the boring circles. Though he did get tired (as did I), he just kept at it with only a need for minor encouragement a few times. Not one buck or bolt manifested, though it was also 90 degrees outside so some of his enthusiasm may have been diminished.

What do I need to improve? Everything, of course. But in particular: keeping my elbows bent, shoulders back, and hands soft; keep the pinky off the reins so they don't get broken if he tosses his head; relaxing; consistency. And all of this is worse when we go to the left, for some reason. I could blame it on the twist in my pelvis (caused by a slight curvature in my spine and compounded by an old rowing injury), but both Steve and Peter say I just don't look as relaxed that direction.

The perspective from astride my wondrous steed is one of feeling more out of balance going to the left (clockwise). That probably makes me tense up more, which in turn tightens everything up. Peter says my inside (left) arm drops and to just keep reminding myself to lift it (and Bar's shoulder) up. I don't see why I can't just put my body in the right place and have it stay there, but the evidence in the photos is hard to refute. It doesn't stay and I will have to practice, practice, practice to retrain those muscles to obey.

Dumb muscles.

Recalcitrant body aside, my horse and I did a good job today and made a few more strides towards learning to ride better together. He even pretended to be a Dressage horse a couple of times, dropping his beautiful head and neck into a nice arch and giving to the bit. (By then Steve was tired of being my staff photographer, though, so you'll have to take my word for it.) I'll bet it was one of the few times I bent my elbows, too.

I am encouraged, and that helps in so many ways. I'm not perfect, he's not perfect. I twist funny, he doesn't always get into frame and he drags his feet. But we're figuring this out together--one small step at a time--and we've come to some sort of agreement that what we're doing is good and helpful and a vast improvement of where we were.

He nuzzled me at the end of the lesson today, staying close and wanting reassurance that he'd done okay. I told him with pets and a cookie that he had done just fine. He told me I'd done okay, too--straight arms and all.

Roller coaster rides

2011-06-12T19:16:00.000-07:00

Arisail heads to the gate

In the horse racing industry, there is sometimes a razor's edge between pragmatism and hope. Maybe more than sometimes.

In the Belmont yesterday, a 24:1 horse and first time jockey beat all the favorites. That was an inspiring fairy tale ending to the Triple Crown races, but the real world of racing requires a lot of hope, a lot of faith, and a lot of working with what you've got.

Arisail's (a.k.a. Casey or K.C., not sure which) first race was today. She has been working well and while I don't know her as well as I do Sittytwofitty or Continental Cream, Devon and Howie have been very excited about the way she has been training.

What is going on over there??

It was a tough race for her debut--one mile on the turf. Not to mention big crowds, a helicopter, and fire trucks for the "Horses and Heroes" day at Golden Gate Fields. Surprisingly, Arisail handled the helicopter parked in the middle of the track quite well. The commotion in the pre-race area? Not quite as well, but not too bad all things considered.

They break

The razor's edge is knowing all of the practical reasons your horse might not do well and willing yourself to be okay with whatever happens... and still feeling that crazy hope they might just pull it off.

Arisail broke okay (she's in the first pole position, number 1), but ended up trailing and had too much ground to gain to be a contender. On the plus side, she ran strong and looked very comfortable and powerful at the end of it all.

Suspended

As we trailed behind Arisail on the way back to the barn, Devon said, "I guess you shouldn't have skipped your lesson today." I disagree.

I did skip my riding lesson, but the track scene always teaches me something and today was no exception. Watching a first race is like sending your kid off to school--all excitement, apprehension, and hope. My heart hammered in my chest before and during the race, and all I wanted to do after the race was tell Arisail she did just fine.

It's probably a good thing I'm not a race horse trainer. Horses pick up on energy around them, and my swirly human emotions would do nothing to smooth out the roller coaster for these equine athletes.

But it's such an amazing ride.

Beautiful day for the races

2011-06-12T14:11:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Postponed due to horse races!

2011-06-12T09:55:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a little break from lessons this week because our friends Devon and Howie have a lovely 3-year old filly running her first race at Golden Gate Fields today.

Bar and I have done some good work this week and I'm looking forward to getting us a lesson, but there's only ever one first race. Besides, it's a beautiful day (finally) in Northern California.

More later, including photos.

Lena schools me for next week

2011-06-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Sunday I had another lesson using Lena, and she did an admirable job of being good, but still challenging.

This is important as she is preparing me for a lesson on Calabar.

The difference between them is interesting. Lena knows what to do. She was trained in both cutting and basic western riding skills--stopping, turning, neck reining, collection. She just doesn't always do it. She likes to drop her right shoulder as you move to the right and cut corners no matter what direction you go.

Calabar doesn't really know what to do, so he reacts. Even Peter says he's not bad, that his main problem is not knowing what you want and then trying to get around it. He needs guidance, just like Lena, but in a slightly different way.

Lena needs a reminder that we know she knows what she knows.

So we spent time on moving her forward, staying straight, and collecting. It did take some doing, but once she saw I wasn't going to let her slack off, she got better. That was about 5 minutes before the end of the lesson, but hey.

We (well, I) also worked on posting because, as Peter says, I have to do it on Calabar. He has a big trot. BIG. Bouncy. Hard to sit. So I post, and not very well. In fact, the last time I got dumped, I was posting. I bounced too high out of the saddle, laughed.. and ended up on the ground when Bar bolted forward.

So Peter pushed me to work on posting effectively. We made some progress, but I think it's an ongoing project. I swear I was barely out of the saddle and Peter said I was still too high. Sheesh. "It's a back and forth, not an up and down." "Lower!"

My posting aside, I felt good about the lesson and what we worked on. My seat feels better, softer, more solid. I feel calmer, more confident. Again, it may be because of all the bits and pieces Peter makes me think about--hands, shoulders, feet, not to mention directing the horse. It was also good for Lena to use her body the right way and she seemed calm and happy when we were done.

My plan is to take a lesson on Calabar this coming Sunday. I'm nervous, I admit it. But I also know it's time to see what he and I can do.

The roll as performed by Calabar

2011-06-06T22:18:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

The horse industry adapts

2011-06-04T19:56:00.000-07:00

An oft-repeated theme on this blog is the hard hits the horse industry has taken due to the litigious nature of our society, the lack of people taking personal responsibility for their own actions, and the insurance industry protecting itself from liability.

Many horse businesses struggle to balance offering the horse experience to new riders (and therefore expanding the pool of horse fanatics) with rising costs. There is no easy solution, but it seems that the horse industry is adapting.

This business model by Coastal Horseback Adventures is an interesting solution, and quite possibly a trend in the industry. It offers training and new experiences with your own horse, but with the support of experts. It is also the way our friends at Slide Mountain have chosen to go, and it makes sense for a whole lot of reasons.

The very fact that the guest is riding their own horse limits the company's liability. When I broke my arm, Kaiser called me and wanted to know if I owned the horse I'd been riding. As soon as I said, "Yes," the call ended. When Steve and I go up to Slide in July, we will still learn a lot, but we decrease Ike and Cheri's risk by bringing our own horses. We don't necessarily decrease our own risk, but it allows adventures without Slide holding the bag if something goes wrong.

The only thing that bothers me--and will continue to do so--is that the pool of places potential riders can go to try this whole horse thing is shrinking. Unless you already own a horse. it is getting more and more challenging to even come close to having any of these kinds of adventures.

And adventures are good. If it hadn't been for Slide and their wonderful horses, I'd have never gotten hooked in the first place. Some might say that would have been better for my health--it certainly would have resulted in fewer things broken--but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Not one thing.

Second attempt. Technology is challenging.

2011-06-03T22:18:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Calabar helps test my mobile blogging capabilities

2011-06-03T22:11:00.001-07:00

Jessica Boyd
Spotty Horse News
spottyhorse.blogspot.com

Tribute to the Space Shuttle

2011-06-03T21:25:00.000-07:00

The Space Shuttle program has been a constant in my life for, well, most of it. And the tie in to horses is here, really! Natalie of Retired Racehorse fame started a spirited conversation on Facebook that started with spiders and led (via Florida) to this trip down memory lane.

I am a space junkie. I love the concepts and science of what it takes to break the bounds of Earth and get into space. Really, I love what the knowledge it will take to get us there will do for us--and where it will take us--in the long (or short) term.

I remember the outside view of the Shuttle program, and Steve was lucky enough (or in the right place at the right time) to have actually been a part of the early design team. He was actually (if you can imagine the bureaucracy of this) the IBM liaison between the Air Force and NASA. Oh, the stories he can tell. And he knows just how many tiles--specifically shaped tiles--live on the bottom of the "brick with wings."

One of my "where was I when" memories was the Challenger accident in 1986 and I still hold my breath for every launch and every landing. One of the first questions I ever asked Steve was how he felt about it. Our relationship started years after that, but I still remember his quiet, thoughtful response--and that it basically came down to politics and risk.

Yeah, I probably fell in love right then.

But I digress.

The Shuttle program has been a piece of me--a passion if you will--for so many years. Every launch, every photo from space, every space walk has touched me in some adventure-seeking way.

I can believe it is coming to an end--nothing as old as these girls are should still be subjected to atmospheric pressures on any regular basis. What is hard to swallow is that there is nothing in their place. No plan. No prototype. Nothing. (At least as far s the public view is concerned.)

How could we have come so far and still be standing still?

Gives me chills -- and not in a good way

2011-05-31T22:53:00.000-07:00

Stories like this send ice down my spine. EVENTING NATION: A tribute to horses from Boyd Martin's program lost in the barn fire As the author says, you always have the scary stuff hovering on the outskirts of your brain (you should see me before a trail ride), but to hear of a tragedy of this magnitude, the loss of six such incredible horses, gah. It triggers lizard-brain terror levels in me.

I know all things must come to an end, but in my mind that is an eventuality--easily 15 or 20 years away from now. What would it be like to wake up and know you'd never have that soft nose in your face (or your pocket) again? Never hear that nicker as you walked up the path to their paddock? What if there was absolutely nothing you could do? Would that make it better? Or would it make it worse? And what if was due to something you did? How could you ever live with yourself?

But before I spiral into complete neurosis, I think I will refocus on sending thoughts and sympathies to those owners and trainers in this accident. My condolences goes out to each and every person who had the joy of working with and knowing these magnificent horses, companions, athletes.

Hush lizard-brain. The ponies are safe and sound, if most likely a little muddy. Maybe this is just a reminder not to take them for granted, to take the time to savor what they bring to my life, rather than envisioning terrifying scenarios.

Bar says it would be good to remember this bit and get out of work in time tomorrow to see him. With carrots. Plenty of carrots.

Lesson with Lena

2011-05-29T21:25:00.000-07:00

My lessons continued, with help this week from both Peter and Lena Rey Flo.

When I got to the barn, Peter asked if I was going to "ride the Paint," so I said yes. Lena hadn't been out a lot this week because Steve has been sick. She wanted out. After I cleaned her pen, she started to follow me out under her hot wire. Calabar tried it, too, so it appears they were both ready to rock and roll.

Calabar watched me lead Lena to the barn to tack her up with a curious and vaguely concerned look on his face. Yes, I know I'm anthropomorphizing, but you didn't see the intensity of the gaze as his two ladies walked off together.

As part of Peter's present quest to teach me to ride quietly and use subtle cues, we all stayed inside the round pen working on seat, arm position, and getting Lena to bend softly.

It could have been boring and Lena could have gotten annoyed with me, but it wasn't and she didn't. In fact, she seemed to relax and go with it once she figured out she didn't have to do much but trot quietly.

My flaws are what are probably typical for newer riders. While I am riding more in my seat and less in my feet than I used to, I tend to get rigid in my lower back, then round my shoulders forward, all while straightening out my elbows. Or, in my attempts to sit up, I arch my back and push my stomach forward--again, straightening out my elbows. This shot from Slide last year shows my typical pose.

It actually hurts to sit up and arch my back, so I'm not sure how that became my other weird default, defensive riding position but it is. I'm working on it, but trying to get it to all come together at the same time is sometimes a little daunting.

My hands are about the only thing that usually manage to stay soft, but when I straighten my arms, I can no longer move with the horse and my hands bounce, and therefore so does my contact with their mouth.

Sometimes, it seems like I will never get all this straight all at once--or at least not for long.

But I'm going to keep trying, because I can already tell the difference in my seat and also in my confidence. And maybe a little bit because concentrating on my riding, my body, my position, seems to keep me distracted from worrying about what the horse might do. Crazy, but true. I will say that my main focus is really to be relaxed and soft. The rest of it will probably fall into place once I get that part figured out.

I can hope so, anyway.

After I put Lena away, I retrieved the neglected Thoroughbred and--tired and sore as I was--worked him on the ground before climbing up on him bareback (with his bridle) to practice some of what I'd just learned with Lena. He gave me a nice arc, not too much pushed out ribcage, and was somewhat mollified by the attention and carrots he received.

Both horses also got a thorough brushing--including Show Sheen in manes and tails--and Lena even got a little massage and acupressure, which lead to big horsey yawns as she released whatever toxins were lurking in her beautiful spotty self.

It did make for a bit of a long afternoon at the barn, but it was worth it. The hot tub, however, is calling.