The dragon surfaces

The very day I wrote that last post, my horse turned into his dragon alter-ego--I think just to remind me he can.

Katie and Russell had taken Forrest and Lena out on a trail ride to the beach, leaving Bar with an empty pen on each side. I thought, "Gee, wouldn't he like it if Steve and I both paid some attention to him and rode him?"

Right.

Bar had other ideas. Ideas that perhaps the arena is really a poor substitute for a trail ride, thank you very much. And why did Forrest get to go out with Lena?

Bar had been incredibly cooperative the night before, so I thought I'd just put the saddle on him and we'd go from there.

He proceeded to argue about every single thing I asked of him. Then he dumped me. It wasn't a bad dump, but it was a dump nonetheless.

Fine.

You want to run? How about you run a bunch in the round pen? Then run some more the other way in the round pen? Then I'm going to get back on and run you some more. So there.

In the middle of this, Katie and Russell came back and Bar mostly settled down when he saw Forrest and Lena return.

You can try to tell me horses don't have emotions, but I am not buying it. If ever there was a horse expressing an opinion--perhaps grumpy at being left behind--it was Bar.

Unfortunately, my good intentions of getting him out every night this week got derailed by work chaos (and golf tonight), so we may be back to square one again. Oh well. What would life be without challenges, right?

I'll tell you where it would be. Without dragons--especially big, fuzzy, brown dragons who like black licorice--it would be truly boring.

And boring is never good.

So, I'll keep my dragon and remind him I can breathe fire, too. Of course, a trail ride might go a long way to appeasing him, so that may be on the short list as well. For both of us!

Sometimes good guys do finish first

Photo taken in November 2010, first race back after 6 months off

The world of Thoroughbred racing (at least pre-Zenyatta) had a pretty bad reputation, and not entirely undeserved. We are lucky enough to know some really great folks who care a lot for their racehorses--enough to find two of them good homes with us when they couldn't race anymore.

They had a good day today. A really good day.

Their big mare, Sittytwofitty, won her first race today. Sitty nearly always finishes in the money--and runs like she loves it--but today was special. Today she hung at the back at first but finished at the front, her big strides eating track as she passed the other horses to beat the field by 2-1/4 lengths. I want pictures of her there at the end--stretched out, happy ears, reaching for the finish line with every part of her big body.

Congratulations to my favorite ON-Track Thoroughbred! Great job, Big Girl--we all knew you had it in you and really wish we'd been there to see it in person!

Moments to remember

Bar gave me a gift last night, one that washed away all the stress of the work week and told me the journey he and I have taken--all the ups, downs, bruises, and scrapes--has been worth it.

He asked me to get on and ride.

It had been a long week, and I'd already missed two nights at the barn when I called Steve to say I'd be late again and to eat without me--I really needed my horse fix.

It was dark, cold, and rainy when I pulled in and the arena lights were off. I had planned on just patting Bar and giving him some carrots just to let him know I was indeed still on this planet and thinking of him.

But he wanted out. He came splashing through the mud, nickering at me, asking for head scratches and carrots. I slipped the halter on and down we went (after blanket removal) to the arena--rain on our heads, water under our feet.

As we walked into the arena, he started to do his spin around thing--I even felt him expand in size right there next to me (Thoroughbreds can do that, you know). And then, when I didn't react, he.. just.. deflated. Not in a bad way, just in a "well, maybe I don't really need to do that tonight" way.

So instead of heading to the round pen for our normal routine, I unsnapped his lead rope and gave him the whole arena. He rolled, he ran, he bucked, he farted. He would come towards me and veer off, never once invading the bubble.

I sat down in the dirt, back against the round pen (which for those who don't know rests inside our already crowded indoor arena) and watched him. He was beautiful. Picking himself up over and around the ground obstacles, spinning on his hind end, rolling and throwing up clouds of dust he would then snort out of his nose.

Then he stopped, wandered into the middle of the arena, and stood watching me. He nibbled one of the cones. Looked over at me. Snorted. Looked over at me. Wandered over to the mounting block. Looked over at me. I was relaxing, letting the week roll out of me, and just wondering what he would do. He stood still, going back and forth between nosing the mounting block and looking at me. He took a step towards me, so I stood up. He closed the distance.

I wasn't even thinking I'd get on and ride until that moment. I was just letting things play out to see what happened. It was enough to make both of us think, and since I didn't do what he expected, he didn't do what I expected.

I snapped the lead rope back on his halter and looped it around, then led him back to the mounting block. He let me get on from the wrong side, checked to be sure he had a leg on each side, and off we went.

We didn't do much, just some walking, side-passing, and backing, but it was one of the best rides I've ever had because he asked for it. Now maybe he just thought this was what he needed to do to get back to his pen. That's okay. It was still communication. I got it. He got it. It worked.

One of those "Aha" moments for sure. Not to mention warm snuggly moments when you know you've made a connection with your horse. Almost nothing sweeter than that, my friends.

Four Thoroughbreds, one indoor arena

Two of the four

Sounds a bit like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it? Especially on a crisp fall evening--all the excuse a horse needs to act like a wild and fierce war horse. One other horse used to be enough to send me back to Bar's pen without working him, but after his antics the other day, I knew we had work to do.

Luckily, it was a bunch of other Thoroughbred owners and their horses, including Manna and Katie. They tend to be on the forgiving side when someone gets a little raucous. Oh, and they don't usually blame you if their horse acts up--in fact, there is often laughter and camaraderie instead of huffiness and condemnation.

Bar looked into the arena, saw all three other horses and riders and those brown eyes got really big. I let him watch for a second, then opened the door slowly, warning the one woman I haven't had him around that sometimes he gets a little dramatic. She chuckled.

Right. These are Thoroughbred owners. They like a horse with that buzz going on. In fact, they actually prefer it.

I wasn't brave enough to ride with all the cantering and energy out there, but I did work him in the round pen and he actually did really well. Even Katie said so. He stayed focused on what he was doing, with only a couple minor lapses into slightly frenetic behavior--generally when Romeo was cantering around the outside of the round pen. Very distracting, apparently. In fact, the third woman commented that he looked really happy! Yay! Then she laughed when he started bucking and showing off.

I still wasn't quite ready to get on him, though, until it was just Katie and Manna, Forrest and Romeo. And then it was bareback, and only to walk, side pass, back, and stand still while there was cantering and sideways-Forrest-trotting going on. BUT. I got on. And Bar did great.

Maybe we should work with Thoroughbred people all the time. It will be good for both Bar's confidence and mine.

Maybe it's genetic?

This is really Katie's story to tell, but she gave me permission to tell part of it. Hopefully I get it right, but she'll correct me if I don't.

Katie has been working with Sammy for close to a year now, and Sammy is a wonderful mare. She is great on the trail, loads and hauls well, and responds well in the arena. In other words, she's pretty well trained for just about anything. Most people would love a horse like that, a horse they could just jump on and ride no matter what the situation.


Katie has never been like that. Not ever. Which is why we ended up at Slide, where we found Lena, and why a horse like Calabar even entered the realm of possible horses for me.

In other words, there wasn't anything Katie felt she could learn from riding Sammy. It was a hard decision for her and she waffled back and forth. She likes Sammy a lot, had had a great year on the trails, and gained a lot up at Slide this summer.

But it wasn't enough. Katie would get on Lena and feel not just the power, but the challenge of working through things with a horse to get that link, that moment when it all clicks. Right before that moment they try something new and you laugh and start again.

So she made the hard decision that it was time to look for a new home for Sammy and a new horse for herself--one that would give her not only the challenge, but the bond she was looking for.

As it happens--call it fate, kismet, coincidence, whatever--the friends we got Bar from had a lovely four-year old gelding they had decided wasn't cut out for the track. He can run, he's fast, but didn't like competition and just isn't a racehorse. In fact, in all three of his races, he finished next-to-last.

This is Forrest View:


Steve and I had met Forrest and knew he was a lovely, calm, and affectionate horse. Athletic, too. We were even at his first race in Santa Rosa, and got to see him parade around before he ran.


But what we really noticed was how snuggly he was with Devon. And how much he liked attention and affection. Then we wondered a little bit if he was really going to make it as a racehorse.


Katie is currently very glad he didn't.


The story will no doubt unfold further and flow in whatever way it goes. It will be a journey for Katie, for Forrest, and for those of us lucky enough to watch.

Side note: If Lena and Bar had been able to reproduce, Forrest could certainly have come out of that combination!