An ex-racehorse named Calabar and his spotty friend Lena

Lena Rey was our first horse. She is big and beautiful and knows it. She likes to run fast but it is good for her mind to slow down and focus. Her friend Calabar is the opposite. He needs to speed up to get his mind pointed the right direction.

Oh, he looks good in black and white

Funny we have ended up with two such different horses, but then again maybe not.

Allie and Lena moving slowly--Lena is listening very hard

When Lena starts to amp up--usually by the gate and almost always before I've asked her to--I turn her. We do serpentines or circles, sometimes across the whole darned arena for awhile. Because once she starts going, you've lost the concentration battle and there will be no more learning thereafter for either of you. Sometimes this is okay. Steve likes to just go out and ride and enjoy each other and the freedom of the gallop. I tend towards a little more work on my part and that requires a little more concentration on Lena's part. I can't work on my position and my posting if we are galloping. She can't work on her long trot and transitions if we're galloping. "It's good for you," I say. "Pbbbbbbrrrth," she says, blowing air out in a big sigh of resignation. Actually, I hope it's relaxation but my guess is it depends on the day.

Calabar rarely amps up. He would prefer to stand in the middle of the arena and watch other horses do all the work but he is always willing to be saddled and--once we get rolling--he works for me. And he works pretty hard. He is learning collection at the ripe old age of 13 and it's not so easy for him. "Why can't I balance with my neck, it's what I've always done??" he snorts. I explain that it's much better to use his whole body and he says that would be easier if I wasn't such a spaz in the saddle, but okay.

Beautiful boy, goofy rider

Yesterday, I felt a more balanced horse than I've ever felt. We long trotted over a pole both ways without even the slightest hesitation or hitch in his stride. Then we cantered over it both ways without hesitation. He flowed. I mostly went along with him and must not have gotten in his way too much.

He's not perfect. I have to get him moving and then ask for collection and contact, but that's okay. He's building up his muscles and learning to support himself (and me) and we'll get there together. He is trotting lovely circles in frame and his canter (yep, still cantering in the outdoor, woo!) is beautiful. It's better when I remember to bend and relax, but he is tolerant of my stiffness in a way he hasn't always been. I think that means that somewhere along the line, this horse and I have bonded.

I know it means we're moving forward on our journey together.

And as for Lena, she and I are remembering how to ride together, too. That's good for both of us and is probably good for Calabar, too. Lena teaches me to slow down and focus. Calabar pushes me to, well, push us both.

What a wonderful thing to have two such amazing horses in my life, each of them showing me something different about myself.

Horse Birthdays and reflecting back to the beginning

All horses get a raw deal by having their birthdays bumped to January first. Luckily, they don't really know or care that they are forced to share their special day with many thousands of fake "siblings," but I know when my horse's real birthdays are.

Lena's is March 8th and Calabar's is tomorrow. Yep. My horse was born on April Fool's day. He really should know how appropriate that actually is--oh wait, maybe he does. (Sorry, Lena, I'm way late on your birthday but you did get a Facebook post on the real day so I didn't totally neglect your beautiful spotty self.)

Lena (and the perfect spot) and Steve, 2006

I thought I would celebrate their birthdays with some photos of our journey from Spotty Horse to OTTB fanatic. I do love both my horses--Lena, from the tip of her curly ears to the perfect spot that circles her tail; Bar from his soft brown nose to the end of his long, dark tail. They have distinct personalities, react in different ways to the same situation, but they delight me in their differences and in what each has to teach me.

Here are my thoughts from Horse Year One, after Lena Rey nearly died and we learned to barrel race.

Steve and Lena turnin' for home

It took us a little while to find our next horse, but we did. It has changed things in many, many ways and led me to what may well be the next chapter of my life.

Hubba hubba

And doesn't Calabar look better now? He's so lovely.

He is so handsome you can just ignore me.

But back to the history, back to when I let other people ride Calabar, before Steve's accident.

Lena, Steve, Katie and Calabar--June, 2008

There have been lots of training ideas and methods along the way, and in going back it seems I've forgotten some of the things I've learned. Like how much we both liked early morning workouts instead--back before I had to dress up for work. Drat.

Bouncy Thoroughbred in the round pen

Along the way have been trail rides and lessons and a few accidents--courtesy of both horses, I might add. Remember, Lena broke my arm and a rib or two before my last fall off Calabar broke my butt (as Dave pointed more eloquently in the comments). 

But since it took me 43 years to actually break any bones and risk-taking was supremely limited in my life (at least physical risk-taking) until I got horses, I'm going to take the average here and figure it's come out pretty well for all of us so far. Besides, I love every minute of it--even the frustrating parts--and there is more on the horizon for us, too.

Trail ride with ANOTHER OTTB! And we all survived! It was awesome.

Trail rides. Cow work. A little dressage training. You name it, both horses are up for it. Because in their world, boredom is a whole lot worse than overcoming something new. Lena would probably even love the track, since she's never had that much room to run her whole life. Maybe as much as Calabar liked his introduction to cows. 

Howz your grass? Mine is tasty.

We will likely never get to try Lena on the track, but Calabar has another chance with cows coming up this month. He did so great last time--going into the herd with me and fending cows off through the fence--that maybe we'll let him try pushing them on his own this time.

Watching for evil cows.

What started as simple fun with a talented, athletic spotty cow horse has--thanks to an opinionated OTTB--morphed into relationships with horses that have taught me to be a better horsewoman  and a better person. Tonight, with the horrible rain pounding on the roof of the indoor arena, I was able to get my horse's attention and have a good ride. Tomorrow could be even better, or it could offer new lessons.

Whatever it offers, whatever appears through the next door we open, I hope that the birthdays this year are followed by many, many more for both horses. 

Happy birthday to both my ponies--you give me gifts every day so there will be something special tomorrow, I promise.

Four years of OTTB madness

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.

Horse History--A photographic journey

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!

Lena says she feels left out

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.

Back home

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

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

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.

Playing hooky

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.

Lesson with Lena

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.

Happy Birthday, Lena Rey Flo!

Lena Rey is ten years old today and has been a part of our lives since August of 2005.

She has been an inspiration to try new things, a teacher, and has given us all many lessons along the way. (Only some of them painful.)

Thank you for the adventures, great spotty horse of the north! You are much loved and there will be extra carrots for you today.

Barn time, thinking like a horse, and reminders about boundaries

After a sporadic couple of weeks, I got to spend 3+ hours at the barn yesterday. It was like heaven. I worked both horses on the ground, let them both graze if not to their hearts content, at least for a good long time, brushed the mud off, de-tangled manes and tails, and spend some time reminding Bar of boundaries.

He forgets, you see. When we work together consistently, he does a pretty good job of not being a brat. He always tests, of course, but with the recent lapse in quality barn time, he didn't give in quite as fast. It wasn't even that he didn't want out, either. I worked Lena first, got back to the paddocks, and had a sad-faced Thoroughbred looking at me.

Part of it is his huge play drive, which was sometimes encouraged in less-than orthodox ways by his race trainer/former owner, Howie. We had to teach Bar that biting (for example) is not a part of play, no matter how long he's been cooped up in his paddock. Yesterday, he was definitely feeling high--dancing over obstacles, even jumping sometimes, feeling good in his own skin--and he's fun to watch when he's in that humor. Awesome, actually. It's a delicate balance, though, to give him the opportunity to cut loose and still keep the boundaries in place. It absolutely requires being clear and firm, just like another horse would be in the same circumstances. Body language works extremely well, actually. Taking an aggressive stance when he's headed towards you will keep him from coming in too close, too fast, and instead he'll veer off and stop a respectful distance away until you invite him closer.

He actually wasn't too bad yesterday, just wired. WIRED. Normally, a few trips around the round pen settles him out and we can do some good thinking work. I got dizzy waiting for it yesterday, and it took quite a while for him to come down enough to a relaxed trot with any kind of collection. But he did. Eventually. By then it was dinner time (his), and so when I led him over to the mounting block for a little bareback work, he fussed. He nipped at the lead rope (and in the direction of my fingers) as I looped it through his halter. He never connected, but he was definitely reverting to earlier behavior. Smacking him doesn't really help--he just thinks I'm playing--so I sent him around me, over objects, both directions, then made him stand much further away than he likes until he settled down. You can see it in his eyes when he's decided to go along with you, just like you can see it in his eyes when he's in the mood to nip. It's all about paying attention and preempting the negative behavior with him--so he knows you actually can read his mind. It's evil, I know, but effective.

Lena, by the way, was only marginally better. Her reactions are just different as she is a much more confident horse than Calabar is. She's also bossier, so our arguments were around doing what I asked and not ripping my arm out of the socket to get to grass. She maintained her normal round pen routine--go along lazily, then pretend something spooks her and zip around snorting with her tail up in the air. I just let her go until she calmed down, dropped her head, and started licking her lips. Still at a canter, mind you, but much more relaxed, until she finally settled into a nice, relaxed trot.

Both of them loved their spa time, too, giving big yawns and head shakes while I brushed the dreadlocks out of their tails. They are both a little vain, so simply telling them they are looking beautiful will usually distract them from being antsy in the cross ties.

All in all, a quite restorative day at the barn. And the way things are shaping up at work, we're all going to need as much of that as we can squeeze in.

Making tracks and riding trails before winter arrives

We noticed blooms on our Christmas Cactus today, about two months earlier than last year. Since last winter was the longest in recent memory, we're understandably concerned that cold, rainy weather might be upon us sooner rather than later.

Might as well make hay--or tracks--while the sun is still shining, so we loaded up and headed out to Lake Sonoma to check out the trails Katie has been riding all summer.

I'd like to say the loading was a piece of cake, but it was not. Bar is still harboring childhood angst about it all, but once Lena's in behind him all goes well. We figure it will just take a few more times of the same routine before he figures things out and settles down. (She says hopefully.)

All in all, though, it's just good to be healed and back out on the trails. It's been quite a long year for both Steve and me, recovering from and being sidelined by our various injuries.

Bar, too for that matter--our rehab work has really helped and he was rock solid on the trail. He has really figured out the downhill thing and did better by far than he ever has at taking small steps and using his hind end.

Neither of them were sure about the water at the bottom, but both did finally stick a nose in and get a drink. Not salty was a nice switch, apparently, though swimming is still out of the question.

The trail was challenging--lots of up and down--but they both did really well and felt strong and steady the whole time.


The question is how many more rides before the rain starts. The answer? As many as possible.

Playing with pedigrees

In Bar's case, pedigrees don't mean much. He is, after all, a gelding. No progeny for my boy.

But in my curiosity about him, about where he came from, I found this video of a nice little mare out of what looks to be Bar's half sister. (Her dam--Never A Question--seems to have had the same sire, Jett Sett Joe.)



In Lena's case, it means we could probably breed her and breed her well if we wanted a cutting horse baby. Or a baby at all. Which we don't. Okay, mostly we don't.

It's just part of my never-ending quest to figure just a little bit more out about my horses.