What to do

Recently, someone asked me what I'm doing with my horse and I didn't give a very good answer. There is always a little pressure (mostly in my own mind) about what I *should* be doing and so there is a tendency to feel defensive or get evasive. "Oh, you know, we're working on dressage and just basics."

..and then there are lessons he really doesn't understand

But every day I'm at the barn--which is nearly every day--I'm working on a little something with Bar. Not to mention the other four horses in my circle of equine love, too, but let's start with Bar. Some days, it's just hanging out in his paddock and playing hide and seek. This amuses him. Peek around a tree and watch those big, brown ears perk up as he ducks back and forth around the trunk of a previously-gnawed on (by Clyde) tree. Calabar has a pretty hefty-sized play drive and it's fun to tap into it.

Every ride, I have to think about my position and how it affects him. That ear going back? That means I'm off center. Feel the feet, move with the feet, stop scrunching up on the left side. It's a good thing he's learned to be more tolerant of my corkscrewed body or we'd never get anywhere. Since learning with him is an ongoing journey of (we hope) improvement, pulling in information from good sources is also extremely useful.

After a very informative lunging lesson with my friend Karen and the Sonoma County Neigh Savers volunteer crew, I worked on simple principles of lunging with him. Relax, drop the head and neck, wait for those muscles to start vibrating and for licking and chewing to occur. Then I climbed on bareback and we wandered around the arena over obstacles just for fun. No pressure, just paying attention to feet and my seat. He stops much better when I sit down and ask for a halt without a saddle between us which tells me I have work to do when there is a saddle involved.

After that same session, thinking about what Karen said about teaching contact, I loosened my grip on Calabar's face and let him wander around on a much looser rein. This made him think. A lot. Both-ears-on-me-the-whole-time a lot for the entire ride. He also dropped his head--without ducking into his chest to avoid the bit--and moved into a lovely, swinging walk in a nice frame. Both of us were much less tense, too.

Hmm.

The bonus for me is that what works for Calabar translates nicely to retraining the Neigh Savers horses, too. He reminds me to never be in a hurry and to be clear. He reminds me to have fun. Above all, he reminds me to never stop trying to communicate and to reward the try. Preferably with carrots, but a good snuggle is almost as effective a reward as is a carrot.

That is what I'm doing with my horse. Maybe it's not prepping for competition, but it still fills my soul and makes me smile each and every day when I see that white crescent moon shining between two big brown eyes.

There will always be more for us to do, more to learn, more correctness to achieve. But sometimes it's nice to just enjoy the warmth of him against my heart and thank the universe for bringing him into my life.

Time flies when..

Well, maybe time just flies as you get older. And busier. And more interested in fuzzy noses than time in front of the computer.

Fuzzy noses are way better than most things digital, I have to say.

My favorite fuzzy nose

And there are plenty of fuzzy noses to smooch these days. Calabar (still number one, I swear), Lena, Dixie and now Lucky Pulpit, aka Clyde. Forrest gets smooches, too, but he is way more interested in food than kisses from me.

But lest you think my horses are as neglected as my blog, I will provide photographic proof that is not the case.

Calabar's weight (after a bit of a struggle this winter) is looking really good. In fact, someone called him "almost chubby" the other day. I can still feel his ribs. Mostly. Under a fine layer of, um, muscle I think.

Dirty, healthy Thoroughbred

Lena looks great, as always, and despite what she told me tonight, is getting enough attention. Maybe not as much riding as she needs or as much grazing as she wants, but there is never quite enough of either as far as she is concerned.

Obviously, a concerted rolling effort took place here.

Dixie continues to expand her horizons in the outdoor world. She watches the barn happenings, plays with her neighbors and supervises pen cleaning with a practiced eye. Now that she is out of a stall, her appetite has increased ten-fold and she is finally putting on weight. Her face and eye have softened, too, and--now that she's well-healed--we are beginning to work on the next steps towards not being a racehorse.

I'm so cute, how can you resist me?

At the risk of making it look like Dixie is my favorite, I have to include one more shot of her. Maybe two. No. I'm not keeping her.

Love the soft eye and happy ears. 

Dixie-out-of-the-stall is a completely different horse than Dixie-in-the-stall. She says she likes it this way. A lot. With mud especially.

Dixie the muddy ranch pony

Clyde is still getting used to the out-of-the-stall thing, but he is adapting nicely and, as my friend Karen says: "Hubba, hubba." He is the very definition of tall, dark and handsome PLUS he moves beautifully. He's not altogether sure about what his new job is, yet, but he wants one.

Can you say Dressage horse in the making? I can.

So, as you can see I have plenty keeping me away from the computer screen even above and beyond my day job (which I also love.)

Bar and Lena are definitely not up for adoption, but both Dixie and Clyde are and I am happy to share my addiction (and nose smooches) with anyone who is interested. I'm just glad to have these horses wander through my life on their way to new homes and careers. 

Feeling busy but lucky--which is not too bad as life goes. 

What could have been

There have been many times over the last couple of years when I've wondered what it would have been like if I'd gotten Calabar right off the track instead of a few years later. Would it have been better? Worse? Harder? Easier? Watching Katie with Forrest, I thought maybe it would have been less challenging to transition Calabar, less time for him to have decided he was retired before I started asking him to work again.

It only looks like jail, Dixie.

Getting to know Dixie is altering that perception just a little bit. Dixie is a racehorse in mind, body and spirit. She is a racehorse cooped up in a stall right now, but she is still a racehorse. Forrest was not a racehorse and his energy, while not damped in any way, is totally different.

Calabar was a racehorse, too. He knew what it was like to dig in and pass all the competition, what it was like to stand in the winner's circle basking in the glow of victory and have your picture taken. But after his last race, he had time off in a good-sized paddock--time to come down from the track and heal physically from his bowed tendon, time to move stiff muscles about and figure out his body in fresh air and open spaces.

Dixie still has the track energy inside--the electricity flowing under her skin--and is confined to a stall that doesn't really give her enough room to let any of it out. For all of that, she is good around humans. She feels your energy in a physical way--you don't have to touch her to move her away from you, just push air at her. In that, she is better than Calabar. He would push his big body into your space, shoulder you out of the way, where Dixie will usually bounce sideways away from you.

But that spark, that drive to move, the itch under her skin you can almost see? That is like my horse. It is what makes him do airs above the ground on cold winter evenings when it's been too muddy to romp in his paddock. It's what bursts out in him with bucks and farts and squeals and impressive leaps over the same obstacles he trips over when he's being lazy.

It is what makes him Calabar, what makes my breath catch in my throat just watching him fly.

I am supremely grateful I have (knock wood) not yet had to confine my big brown horse to a stall. Not sure either the stall or Calabar would survive the experience and am pretty sure neither would make it through unscathed.

I know Dixie will get there. She will heal from the hairline fracture and be able to frolic and buck and fart and squeal--I really can't wait to see it. We just have to get through the next month or so of stall rest where the itch under her soft brown coat must be truly unbearable some days.

Napping in the wide open muddy paddock is a good thing for ex-racehorses

We can do this, Dixie Girl. And Calabar will be waiting to show you the ropes when you're out of jail.

What to wear

As we begin to contemplate showing, it occurs to me there are wardrobe issues to consider--mine and Calabar's. How much does it all matter at the super-duper beginner level? Can I show in the English Pleasure classes with my dressage saddle? What do I NEED to actually look the part in either English Pleasure or dressage? Do I have to pull and/or braid Calabar's mane? (Like I have any idea whatsoever how to do that.)

Calabar tolerates a lot just because he is my pony

I realize that I'm way ahead of myself here. We have a lot of work to do to even begin to be ready and worrying about what to wear (or what not to wear) is a trivial thing compared to actually being able to ride in the ring with other horses (or alone) and not have a major meltdown.

Not to mention that before we even get to the schooling shows we need to do prior to the journey down south to the BIG show, we have to introduce just a few key things to the big brown horse. Things Sparky and Amelia and Ellen have all helped us work on like moving forward into contact, engaging the hind end and connecting it to the front end--just minor concepts.

The good news is we are actually progressing on that piece of this puzzle. Calabar is responding nicely to wiggling ring fingers and acknowledging that the reins actually have some relation to his hind feet. Our walk-trot transitions are continuing to smooth out and he very nearly automatically drops his head into the right place at the walk and we are getting there at the trot. I think it must feel better to him because he is responding so well. I know he feels better to ride most of the time, too, and I get moments in time where I can feel that big hind end coming into play.

Best of all, we are both trying and we are both learning. At the end of each ride, I can laugh and hug him and tell him he's a good boy and he knows he's done a good job. So even if we're not perfect, even if we have a a long ways to go to even be remotely show-worthy, we are having a good time and enjoying each other.

That right there makes plotting for the show worth it--even if we never get there and I never actually have to worry about what we're wearing.

Halloween Play Day

Calabar, Lena, Allie and I went to a play day on Sunday and  while it wasn't a day of perfectly behaved ponies, we all had fun and we all learned a few things. Calabar may have learned more than the rest of us and it's a minor miracle he is still speaking to me. Especially after the glitter.

"There is glitter. On my butt. Really, Mom?"

Calabar learned that sheep exist, along with hot air balloons and elaborate costuming options. Lena learned that it is unlikely that flags will eat you despite what you might think. I learned I can ride a wild horse and stay on and Allie, well, Allie hopefully learned something beyond the fact that I get lost on outings.

Allie and her cow pony princess.

My main goal was to get Calabar out and try this new thing but make it as positive an experience for both of us as was possible. There were some moments I wasn't sure that outcome would actually transpire, but we all made it through despite some very interesting challenges.

Things started mildly enough, with us pulling in and parking at the arena and beginning to groom the horses as they munched. Calabar did notice many things--multiple horses and trailers, music coming from the announcers booth, announcing coming from the announcers booth. These are things that may cause a little sense of deja-vu as they are reminiscent of the track. Lena was mostly concerned with her hay. Actually, she was more interested in Calabar's hay, just to annoy him.

We went into the arena to warm up, keeping the two horses together at first but gradually separating them as they both calmed down. Calabar and I sauntered through the poles a few times and he watched other horses do it faster with mild curiosity, possibly a little anxiety. I sang to him. I talked to him, noting odd things around us. "Yes, that's a blow up Frankenstein over by the snack bar."

At the end of the arena, he suddenly caught sight of both a hot air balloon on the horizon and a horse being a little zoom-y while being lunged--obviously that horse knew something was bad and terrifying--and we had our first dance of the day. I sat through it and he came back down with relative ease and we went back to our warm up.

We were walking with Allie and Lena again when the sound of thundering hooves came from behind us. Calabar scooted forward, likely to either get in front of the horse trying to pass him or just get out of the way. Again, I stayed with him and brought him back to himself.

At least until he saw the sheep. Apparently, sheep are really slathering horse-eating monsters or perhaps someone has heard the rumor that wolves sometimes play dress up, too. Calabar was fine when he could face them, but the second we would turn to walk back to the arena he would whip around me--never in the bubble--so he could face them again. Eventually, when they did nothing but lay there and stare at him, they ceased to be terrifying.

Amazingly enough, while I was a little nervous, I didn't find myself willing to get off and give up.

Even after the next freak out which was--by all accounts--a ride worthy of any rodeo bronc. We were doing figure eight flag barrels. You take a flag in, ride around the far barrel one way, swap with a flag there and head towards the near barrel (as in near the exit gate), circle it the other way, swap with a flag there, then ride back to the center before turning and exiting the arena. Apparently, Bar thinks there is only one direction to circle a barrel and he argued. A lot. Oh, and the flag can only be on one side of him, too. Until he stops, sticks his nose into the bucket of sand holding the flag and says, "OH! It's just a flag! Okay, we can proceed now," like he didn't just spend what felt like forever doing his own little dance moves.

Me, doing whatever was opposite enough of what Calabar was doing to keep me on his back.

And just like that, the storm was over and he proceeded to act like a normal horse and we finished the course and exited the arena to applause and kudos for our wild ride.

I don't know why you were so upset, Mom. This is kinda fun!

Then it was time to prepare for the costume contest. I thought I had a cute idea, though at the time I came up with it I didn't know how appropriate the day would make it. I found an astronaut costume and covered my dark brown horse with glittery stars and, well, just glitter to make him look like a dark and starry night. His crescent moon was a nice touch. Allie and Lena were a cowboy and Indian Princess Pony. Lena says to be sure the Princess part is highlighted--capital P.

Crescent moon on the galaxy horse.

We seriously underestimated the creativity and dedication our fellow show-goers had to the costume portion of the day. There was a horse dressed in purple spandex and spots--complete with a tail--as Dino from the Flintstones. There was a Mad Hatter and a Clown and a Vampire horse.

And then there was what led to the final melt down of the day for my poor over-stimulated pony--Lady Gaga and her cute little Arab, complete with head to toe veils, a skull-topped rain stick and a jingly chest collar. Poor Calabar said that was just too much for him and we decided to opt out of the costume contest in favor of just watching, which was okay. He calmed down and stood with me while Allie and Lena finished the costume judging and then did the egg carry.

When the egg carry was over, Allie let me know she was okay to be finished and we started to pack everything up. Amy (aka Lady Gaga) came over without veils or scary skull stick, but with her horse Sultan still jingling in his fancy costume. This time, Calabar did not spin out in fear and--with huge eyes--stretched out his neck to see if indeed there was a real horse under the bangles. Allie gave Calabar a treat for being so brave, so he tried it again. He still wasn't sure about it all, but at least he went back to curious instead of terrified so we ended on a good note and headed back to the barn with our glittery and painted ponies.

I could (and did a little bit) critique and nitpick my actions or my position or how I handled each and every new thing that came up. I could let it sap my confidence and keep us from trying new things.

Or..

I could be proud of Calabar and me and the fact that the bond we've built--the trust and respect--got us through this day of scary sheep and more new things than the brown horse had experienced in years. I could pat myself on the back for staying on a horse as he became an overly athletic version of himself.

Methinks I'll go with the latter.

Learning where to start

What? Turn? Why? And your outside hand is crossing over my withers, dork.

I love working with ex-racehorses, and not just my own. Each horse comes off the track with a different perspective--some had great owners, handlers, trainers and some did not. Some loved to run, some did not and some liked it okay until things started to hurt. Each horse I work with shows me something new I need to understand to best help them. It's nice if you have some history, some vague idea of what their life was like before they came to you, but that isn't always an option.

Forrest's breeders apparently wanted him back and his easy-going attitude reflects a trust and belief in humans that reminds me of Lena. Lena is not a racehorse, but she is a performance horse. I know Lena's breeders and love them for their horse sense and general good sense. Forrest is willing to go along with something new, even if he's not sure about it, because humans are okay (mostly) in his book. Lena is also willing, though she often needs a hair more convincing that you are in charge.

Lena the spotty jumping horse getting snuggles

I don't know Calabar's breeders, but I do know the people who handled him after he came off the van as a two year old. I wish I knew more. I wish I knew why he seems so afraid of making a mistake--which sometimes translates to resistant to trying. What do I mean by that? I mean when he doesn't understand what I'm asking, he has tended to over-react in the opposite direction.

Take our recent adventures in jumping for example. Going the "wrong" way--jump first, ground rail second--he's fine. He stays calm, relaxed, doesn't (normally, anyway) drag me around the arena. But turn it around the other way and things get a little dicey. So we just step back to what he is comfortable with and try again. We have done this with lots of things, jumping is just our newest challenge.

Yes, Calabar continues to instruct me daily about what works to train him, but Dublin is my newest teacher in the ways of the horse. Dublin is funny, but not at all bad--just a little defensive sometimes. I wrote a bit of his story on the Neigh Savers blog, but the more I get to know him, the more I see what a neat horse he is inside.

Doesn't look like any saddle I'VE ever seen

When I met Dublin, he was in a stall on the track--an "intact" 4-year old stud and very mad at the world, but still interested in people. He would pin his ears at you, try to bite you, than stick his nose out--ears perked forward--to say, "Hello, won't you pet my nose?" And he would let you pet him a little bit.

We gelded him and moved him to a barn in the East Bay where he began his time off, learning to be a horse, learning to be around other horses in a mellower environment. I liked him, he was definitely happier there, and curious and calm most of the times I saw him. I just didn't see him very much.

Fast forward to this month and more time to hang out with this quirky boy. He definitely has boundaries and is very clear when you've crossed them. People are not necessarily to be trusted, but if you're nice to him, he will begin to pay attention to you. Some people say he seems a little aloof, but he's still very interested in all the action around him. Horses here, horses there, some with spots, some with riders (and looking comfortable with riders), lots to see.

What's that over there??

He seems both young and old to me--a jaded exterior covering up the hope and curiosity of youth, just beginning to believe there might be fun to be had in the world.

Sooo relaxed with this particular human

It would be easy to shatter his new-found optimism, so we are starting slowly with him. There is plenty of time to prove to him that, yes, there is much joy in being a horse and people can even be a part of that.

Calabar's new favorite thing

Though you might not know it from the few and far between blog posts over the last month, Calabar and I have been doing great work together and we have found something the big brown horse enjoys--jumping. He's way better at it than I am, and we're only doing tiny jumps, but he loves it. Ears up, big trot, canter out, loves it. I'm trying to catch up to his skill level, but it's hard when I'm laughing and saying, "Woo!!!"

What are you doing down there? Let's go jump!

I knew when I got him Calabar liked to jump. He once cleared his pipe panel corral to go see what the neighbors were doing--bowed tendon, shmowed tendon, he says. Once, very early on, he dumped Steve in the outdoor arena--when we had several 3-or-so foot jumps set up--and Calabar proceeded to go over every single one with ease before coming back to Steve. His solution when we came to a creek crossing up at Slide that was a little steep for him? Jump it. 

So for quite awhile I've had vague plans of starting to do some low jumps with him, both for entertainment and because Karen suggested it would help him with his self-carriage. We've been discouraged a little by people who worry about his tendon, but my answer is to see how the tendon does and make a decision based on that. He will let me know if things hurt and he knows I will listen. We also aren't planning on anything too high or too strenuous, just something to add to the arena routine to make it, well, less routine. 

There were a few things we had to conquer first--teaching him to turn and use his hind end and my own fears about riding him. 

The funny thing is having specifics to work on seems to have helped with both. I'm thinking about how he feels, where his feet are, where my balance is and does it feel right, rather than "OHMYGODIMIGHTFALLOFF!" The more I ride, the more he and I both progress, the less I'm thinking about the fear and the more we can actually do. It's like this awesome upward spiral I forgot existed. 

So a few nights ago, we began trotting over one of the trail obstacles (poles on the ground in a pattern) and walking over the tiny jump. Then we trotted up to and over the tiny jump. I was trying to imitate the positions my friends who jump post on Facebook as examples the "right" position, but apparently I was not getting it quite right, not at first. Then we trotted up to it and I stuck my legs down and did something with my rear end and hands that felt balanced--still not sure what--and Calabar apparently agreed because he rocked back and cleared the tiny jump with plenty of air and big happy ears. So we did it again. 

He apparently won't jump unless I'm in the right place. I'm not sure which one of us he is taking care of, but he is very clear on where I need to be for us to do the fun thing, not the just-get-over-the-jump thing. 

I admit that I still get a little nervous when he breaks into a canter out of the jump, but I am working through it a little more every time. It helps a lot that he listens when I ask him to slow down, of course, and that he is so very excited to move forward as long as it's towards the jump. Motivational tools for the lazy horse are good to have. 

Really, though, having journeyed this far with him--through heartache and frustration and sometimes crushing fear--it is incredible and somewhat humbling to find ourselves in this space, working together and finding new ways to enjoy what we're doing. Jumping may be Calabar's new favorite thing, but he is still (always) my favorite big, brown ex-racehorse and I am grateful for all the things we've taught each other.

Dance partners

Trying to decide who is leading the dance.

Having a 1,100 pound dance partner can sometimes be challenging--especially when there is so much for both of us to learn. Our trot is a constant work in progress and while we are making headway, some days the discombobulation that ensues (literally) bounces between frustration and hilarity. What to do, what to do? Besides, of course, keep practicing. Well, the other night, he and I had a bit of an epiphany. Actually, I had the epiphany and he said, "It's about time!" On the heels of watching all these fabulous Olympic dressage horses dancing in time to music, I remembered how well Calabar responds to tempo changes when we do ground work. What if we tried it (gasp!) in the saddle?

Many, many people suggested humming to Calabar to help me work through my post-accident anxiety but I really hadn't done much with music. I talk to him incessantly while riding, but that doesn't help with keeping our timing on track. So the other night, I started singing to him as we trotted, encouraging him to keep a steady gait and playing with tempo as a way to get him to speed up and to slow down.

I got happy ears and we managed to do a much better job of moving forward at a steady pace than we normally do. Hm.

Steve contends that it is actually me keeping my own timing better which in turn directs Calabar more clearly. I suppose that is true, but my pony deserves some credit for pretending to enjoy my singing and for letting me lead. My equine dance partner is also a good singing coach--sideways ears and funny looks immediately occur when I wander off key. The look I get when it happens reminds me of when Katie was a little girl and didn't know what off-key meant, just told me I "sounded wrong."

Calabar has always responded  to music, likely because it was a part of his life on the track. He will speed up or slow down based on the tempo of what I'm singing and always perks his ears when he hears music from anywhere. His taste is particular, though. He doesn't like minor keys or heavy metal, for example. The neighbors were playing Led Zeppelin one afternoon and Calabar's head went straight up, eyes wide, as Robert Plant blasted out, "Been a long time since I rock and rolled." Then there was some dancing sideways until we got into the indoor arena where the guitar licks were muffled a bit. My horse appears to prefer the mellower sounds of Bonnie Raitt and The Dixie Chicks, but with this new-found entertainment, it looks like we'll have to expand our repertoire.

That being the case, and knowing my brain will only hold so many song lyrics, I have dusted off my ancient (but still functioning) iPod and there is a new playlist on it called "Calabar" based on what I think will work and some friendly suggestions. Also based on what I think I can actually sing.

And the dance continues.

They all do have value

Calabar by a nose

I wrote a hard but important post over on our NCRR blog, a post that is so much a part of the journey I've made on Spotty Horse News, it needs to be shared here, too. There is value in any horse, but as I've become involved with a re-homing organization, this concept has taken on new meanings--some not so pretty.

The post came out of several conversations and is deeply rooted in my own experiences with Calabar. Experiences I would never have had if I'd waited for the "perfect" horse.

I have the perfect horse for me--an ornery OTTB who tells me when my seat is off center and my focus is elsewhere.

In other words, he tells me to stop fussing around and ride.

Thank you, Bar, for helping me keep it real.

A little soul searching

The swoop

Having Calabar has been an amazing, life-changing experience for me, but it has not been without moments of doubt and sometimes sheer panic. There have been times when it was all I could do to slow my breathing enough to just get up on him and walk. 

But I did. And when I wasn't hyperventilating in the arena, I was trail riding with him and introducing him to cows.

Maybe I'm just crazy. Or stubborn. Or both. 

Mostly I just keep plugging away, not thinking about too much except how to improve us both, but today Lynn Reardon of LOPE fame reminded me to keep pushing on the boundaries. How did she remind me? With the questions at the bottom of this post. When I read through them, a few bells went off -- yes, people have told me they worry I'll get hurt; yes, there have been times I've done more ground work than riding. But I haven't heard the first one in a long time and I'm riding more, though I do still use ground work as part of our routine. 

Routine is the operative word, here. Both Calabar and I are in a very safe zone. I push him a little here and there, but Lynn's post tells me it's time for us to do a little more. He is physically ready for sure--our vet says he looks the best she's ever seen him--and I think he's mentally ready, too. As for me, it's highly likely he is in better shape than I am, but my fitness level isn't too shabby and my confidence has actually been boosted a peg of late, too. The latter may have to do with my stubborn refusal to fall off again leading to, well, not falling off again, but hey. It works, right?

A thank you to Lynn for that bit of thought provocation--it poked me to recommit to this horse, my horse. My horse who, even after all our trials and tribulations, still meets me at his gate ready to work. Not only that, but he loads into a trailer and takes me up and down trails, chases mechanical cows and has even eyeballed a few real cows like he was ready to put them where they needed to go. He would probably even compete with me if I had the desire and could pick an event. 

It's unlikely that I will pick one event, let alone compete, but I can do more with him and he can do more with me. Consider this a late New Year's resolution for us and we'll keep you all posted. 

Super duper announcement

The eye of my inspiration

If you think I have been sitting on my hands doing nothing and simply avoiding my blog, you could not be further from the truth. In fact, there is much afoot in my OTTB world.

Over the last few months, it came to my attention that there are several organizations doing a really good job at promoting the OTTBs they have for adoption--photos on Facebook pages, email marketing, all very good. There could be blogging and story telling, too, but for the most part the word was getting out. What struck me was that most of the posts I was seeing were from East Coast organizations with a smattering from Southern California.

How could it be that here in Northern California, with a prominent track, we didn't have someone helping horses transition to new careers? Ah, but we do! As I hinted at in my last post, we did connect with NeighSavers--a group that has been doing this since 2007. We are still looking for the right facility up here--preferably one with a good arena and access to trails--to do the rehabilitation and retraining these horses need, but the team is ready.

We actually get our first horse next Sunday, a long-term rehab named Queen of Paris, or Paris for short. We met her that rainy night we met with NeighSavers and she handled six of us in her stall, petting her, picking up her feet, surrounding her, with calm curiosity. She got smooches. She is lovely.

She needs sponsors, by the way, but back to the mission. Oh, wait. That's part of the mission. Paris needs sponsors to help mitigate the costs of caring for her as she recovers.

Paris raced around and about the same time Calabar did--she's a year older--and then retired to become a brood mare and went out to pasture. She is currently suffering from laminitis and fractures of her coffin bone, but the vet has assured us she can heal and be rideable after her rehab. No, she won't ever be a jumper or eventer. But she is sweet and even tempered and we have a year to make her into a pleasure horse. Which makes me incredibly glad to be working with this team of women.

This team of women rocks.

Karen came from the icy land of Canada where she worked on the tracks for several trainers. It was there she found her Bobby (Halograph). He came off the track with fractures and pain. After three months of body work and light, gentle exercise, the same vet who pronounced him no better than a permanent pasture ornament didn't recognize him. The improvement was that dramatic.

Devon has been around horses for years, shown various disciplines, and now spoils her on-track Thoroughbreds rotten. She rides and trains her own and when they can't run any more, she finds them homes. She is brave enough to get back on horses that travel 35+ mph even after ending up underneath one a few times--something that encourages me when I'm feeling terrified.

Katie got me into this whole mess but I am the reason she ended up with an OTTB, so I think that means we're even. She loves the energy Forrest has and his willingness to learn. They have tossed a lasso around me and Forrest thinks it's actually rather amusing. He does gates almost as well as Lena does and better than Calabar ever will. She is training him to be the horse she wants and he is responding with, "Okay, what's next?!"

Keri was introduced to OTTBs by her aunt and uncle--polo people who take Thoroughbreds off the track and teach them to play, well, polo. Keri's first OTTB, Ink, taught her a lot and took her to the Expo in 2009. She has had to deal with the loss of Ink, which helped her find found Reason, and her writing and creativity is so valuable to what we are trying to accomplish.

Then there is me. I am the rookiest rider of the bunch--likely I should have started with a nice, old, quiet Quarter Horse but instead I started with Lena who is anything but. Lena led to Calabar and all that led to my passion for Thoroughbreds. He is curious, he is smart. He is not easy. He has taught me volumes about riding and about myself. What do I have to offer this fine group of women? My ability to put pieces together, to find the correlations between this goal and that potential sponsor. My complete willingness to send emails to people that should intimidate me. What? The worst they can say is 'no' and very often they simply ask what we have to offer.

We, this talented group of people and me, have a lot to offer. And it's all focused on helping the rest of the world--or at least the horse world portion of it--recognize the beauty and grace of the Off-Track Thoroughbred.

We call ourselves the Northern California Retired Racehorse Re-Education (NCRR) Alliance. For now, you can find us on Facebook (and please do!), but our own website and blog are coming very soon. Videos are being planned--how-to's for working with horses off the track, from basics about where they've been and what they know, to common injuries and how to treat them, to more advanced topics as we move forward.

We've already reached out to the California Authority of Racing Fairs (CARF) to see if we can show off OTTBs in conjunction with racing. We're working with the Petaluma Arts and Equestrian Festival to secure a booth at their event in July. We'll be at the Western States Horse Expo in June. We even approached the Retired Racehorse Retraining Project about putting some West Coast events together.

Is there a limit? Maybe. Will we find it? Possibly. Are we doing good things? Absolutely. The super duper announcement is we're live and here to help OTTBs in Northern California. And not just our OTTBs, either.

The power of passion

The face, the horse, that has launched way more than a thousand words

With all the bad press lately about horse racing, it can be a brave thing to utter the words, "I like horse racing." But I do. And I'm not just spouting silliness when I say there are good people on the track who care about their horses--I actually have seen them with my own two eyeballs. Heck, Bar could have ended up on a slaughter truck and yet his owner/trainer kept him, cared for him, for three years after he bowed his tendon because, and I quote here, "He is just such a cool horse!"

If he weren't, if he hadn't ended up in my life, I wouldn't be so passionate about horses in general and Off-Track Thoroughbreds in particular.

If he hadn't ended up in my life, I wouldn't have been driven to trying to help promote OTTBs--show their value beyond the track--so there are reasons to retire them sound as well as places for them to go  to help make that transition.

I am not alone in this. My friends Karen, Keri, Devon and Katie (technically also my daughter) are my cohorts in this grand adventure and--besides a shared passion for the breed and the wonders they can do--we have a really impressive skill set. Not to brag too much, but really? We rock. From actually riding speeding on-track Thoroughbreds on a daily basis, to massage and farrier work, to training in both English and Western disciplines, all the way to marketing and PR.  There may be an overly-healthy dose of stubbornness in all of us, too.

Since Devon has to ride said speeding horses early, Karen, Keri, Katie and I braved really nasty weather to drive over an hour tonight to meet with a group called Neigh Savers about what we all might do to work together.

Turns out, it might be a lot. Including re-homing the horses from the HBO series Luck who now need new jobs after the show was cancelled. (I do wonder where the folks who want to shut down racing think all those horses will go if that actually happens, but that's for a different blog post.)

More later, but there is much planning that needs to occur and sleep that must happen.

Feeling the try and trying to feel

Bar really wishes I would stop steering him like a bus

Calabar is a trying horse, and not in the way it sounds. (Though sometimes that, too.)  He is usually trying very hard to do what is asked, even when it does not make any sense in his universe. Learning to recognize that try and reward him enough to move on to the next thing is the first step, followed closely by learning what the right thing actually feels like, and--as all of this wasn't enough for my pea-brain--knowing when to give him a break before he gets bored. Or frustrated. Either is no bueno and catching it before is way better than after. Way. Better.

To do that sometimes requires letting go of "he needs to do this all perfectly first" and also "well, he can't do that until we master this." Those voices are so irritating, aren't they?

Case in point is our current work on the turn and the trot, fundamentally getting him to use his hind end and respond to more subtle cues from the reins. It is not easy for either one of us, but he's working with me and listening. It's important, however, to get out of my own head and give him a break, not keep drilling him over and over on the same thing.

So when we've done several rounds in both directions and he knows he's done it right, we do something else. Sometimes we wander around over obstacles at a walk, on a loose rein and sometimes I let him canter. It's rarely a perfect uphill canter, but he's happy, his ears are up and he's relaxed.

I was feeling guilty about the above--letting him canter willy nilly however he felt like it, giving him a mental break before we get something perfect--and then I read this guest post by Katie Hill on Retired Racehorse. Her ten tips are golden, and not just because many of them are things Bar taught me along our journey. They make sense! They are easy to do! I don't need to buy side reins (which would likely have been an unmitigated disaster with two klutzes on either end of them.)

There are so many more things for Bar and me to learn, but we are muddling through better than I dared hope in some of my darker moments. In fact, we even may be doing a little better than muddling through.

I'll leave you with a great bit of word knowledge from Katie as an added bonus--describes both my horses quite well, actually.

"(According to the Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins the origin of the word shenanigans is likely the Irish sionnachuighim — “I play the fox” or “I play tricks” – inspired by an Irish Thoroughbred, perhaps?)"

Can horses have PRSD? (Post-Racing-Stress-Disorder)

Learning to wield a Dressage whip

Conventional wisdom says no. Horses are always in-the-moment, they don't remember past events--bad let alone good. Do I believe this with my whole heart? It's a good concept but I've been having trouble with it the last week or so.

Why? Because there has been a change in Calabar that seems unattached to anything around us. Or unattached to anything I can see, feel or touch, anyway. He says I am missing something important.

He's probably right.

What I do know is that something triggered hyper-sensitivity in my horse--the weather, the air pressure, some hidden shift in the universe, something. What I don't know is what it is, what it all means, or how to balance it all out, yet.

I do know it seems to have started with the Dressage whip, which we've been using to help Bar be aware of--and move from--his hind end. No, I do not beat him with it--in fact I hardly manage to be coordinated enough to touch him with it most days. He has been totally (totally) fine with it waving, tapping, swinging around, etc., for weeks now. Weeks! He even began switching directions when he felt me change whip hands!

Until Sunday.

We were working in the indoor and he'd actually been pretty lazy. Steve and Lena were outdoors and it was a lovely, sunny--if a little breezy and cool--day. We were working nicely when I asked Calabar for a small circle and tapped him with the whip to get his hind end engaged. We then did indeed manage several small circles, all very rapidly--some might call them pivots--with a jig or two tossed in for good measure.

This is not normal. Calabar does not pivot. Ever.

He is not a particularly sensitive horse when it comes to moving away from or responding to pressure. Lena steps out of your way if you look at her and moves between gaits with the slightest request. Bar usually takes a nudge or two to step out of your bubble or pick up speed--hence the introduction of the Dressage whip. Yet suddenly the merest tap turned him into a Thoroughbred tornado.

He twitched every time the whip touched him. He shook his big head, too. So, yes, I tossed the whip and he responded politely and quickly to every subsequent request.

After we were done and I was back on the ground, I picked up the suddenly-evil device and patted him with it, rubbed his big brown self with it, scratched his head with it and all was good--until I actually waved it. Flinch. Huge eyeballs, showing lots of white.

Let's keep in mind I have never hit this horse hard with anything, certainly not the whip. (He did run into my forearm a few times early on when he thought it would be fun to try and bite me.) He is usually quite nonchalant about things waving around him and his body and hasn't physically flinched in months.

So what the heck?

I don't actually know, yet. I do know he was more tense with the whip whistling down his right side than his left, but that could be incidental and totally unrelated to his racing days. I know he zipped around the round pen at a 45-degree angle two days later, despite my best efforts to relax him. (It even involved singing.)

There is more to this story for sure. I did stay on and we did continue our workout on Sunday, but the oddness of the experience has me saying, "Hmmmm."

Time to get into that Thoroughbred head a little. Or maybe a lot. Best part about owning a horse? Figuring out the latest dance.

Bar and the art of the turn

Big brown fuzzy OTTB

Calabar, like many ex-racehorses, has not perfected the art of the tight turn. The turn at the end of the straight-away? Not an issue. He'll even switch leads for it, as he was well-trained to do.

But a small circle? Oh, now that's a different story. And it's a particularly different story to the left.

Ellen was helping us on our trot and our turning using the same exercise--short reins, outside elbow out slightly to support the neck, inside index finger inching up the rein, Dressage whip at the ready. It works pretty well to the right. To the left, especially when he gets tired, not so well. We get drift, major drift, to the outside.

Was it me? I know that my own spinal mis-confirmation twists my pelvis to the right and it is a physical effort to drop my left seat bone into the saddle. A contortion that sometimes escapes me despite all my best efforts.

And, as previously mentioned, Calabar does try.

So last night, after our workout, I asked Calabar to move around me both directions, just at a walk. I pushed his hindquarters while directing his head. He was lovely to the right, loose and crossing over behind beautifully.

To the left (also known as racing direction), we were not so smooth. One step, two steps, then his left front would plant and he would try to rotate around it.

Well that just won't work for all kinds of reasons.

And here is where some knowledge and training on my part would really come in handy. I know I need to lift that left leg somehow and get him off of it, but I am not at all sure how to do that.

He needs to be looser there, of that there is no doubt, and the left has always been the tighter shoulder--despite the bowed tendon being on the right and the compensation that entails. So massage and stretching for sure. But what else? Do I push with my left hip/foot to get him to extend? Do we do more circles? Less circles?

If it were me, I would do gentle extending exercises. If it were me, and it is in some ways, I would keep working it, keep gently moving to build the balance and strength required.

I just need to figure out a way to help him do that.

It appears the lessons never end, but that is why us crazy horse people do this, right?

True testimonial for OTTBs

I have earned this soft eye and his trust. Yippee for me!

I admit it. I'm addicted. Obsessed with the belief that OTTBs can do so much more than retire to pasture and make babies. It requires patience, training (in all kinds of simple things, sometimes), and knowledge of where they have been so you can help them get where you want them to go, but it is a realistic and attainable goal.

So of course, I'm following the Retired Racehorse Trainers Challenge with much interest and quietly rooting for all of these beautiful athletes. My faith is huge, but OTTBs have a stigma attached to them like stink on a skunk.

They're spooky. They're crazy. They don't know anything and, above all else, you can't retrain them to do anything else.

Obviously, I disagree. But so apparently do Kerry Blackmer and Steuart Pittman. She says, and he concurs, that OTTBs have seen so much and have such a strong work ethic, they are actually EASIER than a lot of horses to train, let alone retrain. Here they are, making all the points I'd love to have the credibility to make. Maybe someday, right?



She said it, not me. Of course, a little professional help could have saved me a few spills along the way, but for all of that Calabar is willing to learn. He doesn't always get it and sometimes he doesn't do exactly what I'm asking, but he tries. Oh how he tries. He tries so hard it may be that his owner needs better aides, better ways to ask for the right thing.

But enough about me and my failings.

While it's important to give them down-time after the track, I'm not sure that means simply turning them out to pasture. They need to be handled and talked to and walked. They need their feet picked up and to get baths that don't follow workouts or races. They need to first learn to be normal, but they also need something to do with those big busy brains. This challenge, with the accelerated time-frame, shows what can be done with a sound horse off the track in merely a few weeks.

For the rest of us, who maybe have a little more time, the possibilities are rather endless but it is good to start with some simple things.

Cross-ties, for example.

When Calabar first came home, he had no idea how to stand still in the cross-ties. He danced, he spun a little, he once ended up facing the entirely opposite directions. After a lot of cross-tying, including doctoring various wounds along the way, he now cocks a back foot and nods off most of the time. I can't recall exactly when I noticed the dancing had stopped, but it has stopped. Completely.

They also need to learn that work doesn't mean racing. Even if they liked racing, as many of them do, it's good to teach them that sometimes work is a hack out on a trail. Give them the horizon, the space to see what's around them--not blinders, not the horse right beside them, not the next barn over--and watch them start to breathe and relax into the next leg of the journey to horse they can be.

And they will try to be whatever you ask of them, so be sure to ask respectfully, with love and patience and sensitivity. Not to mention a little (or big) push when they need it.

It is so very worth it when that extra-large Thoroughbred heart belongs to you.

Back to why I do this

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.

Why I do this

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.

Re-learning my horse

Calabar has been my big, fuzzy, brown challenge for awhile now--and you all know I adore him, sometimes in spite of himself.

The last few weeks, I've been spending time re-learning my horse--how to work with him, how to motivate him, how to teach him, and how to teach myself to guide him.

Mostly, he has been cooperative to a fault--trying to anticipate what I want and do it.

Tonight, he decided to test the boundaries a little. He ran into more than he had hit in awhile, and it was good. For both of us.

We got to what he considered the end of his work-day and I asked a little more, knowing I'd always stopped there before, knowing he thought that would be enough and it would be over.

He tossed a little tantrum or two, a couple different times, and was surprised when I just kept asking him to do the same thing that started the tantrum. Yes, please circle around me and trot over the poles. I know you don't like to go the other way, but you'll live. Oh look! You survived! Yes, you can be proud of yourself, now.

Every time he fussed and balked, I just pointed him back the same direction and asked him to make a decision--preferably the right decision.

He pouted a little, but he got over it. He learned I expect him to comply, and that I'm not going to ask him to do anything out of bounds. I learned I can push him past his comfort zone and we can move forward.

It seems we made a tiny bit of progress.

Making progress

The retraining process is actually moving along nicely--at least as far as I'm concerned. Bar is okay with it so far, but he has more in store than he may have realized.

I finally got a chance to talk with Peter (our barn owner and trainer) about his advice regarding the big, brown opinionated Thoroughbred.

The good news is he doesn't think Bar is that bad--certainly worth working with--and is willing to help me with him. We talked about the latest events, and Peter suggested I take a lesson with him on a milder horse so he can see how I ride. He hasn't seen me in awhile because by the time I get there, he's usually fed everyone and is inside the house having his own dinner. I know my seat needs work, but could probably use some help and specific pointers from an outside force.

The bad news, at least as far as Bar is concerned, is Peter is willing to work with us.

I know this is giving him far too much credit, but Bar popped his head up as Peter and I were talking and I swear he looked a little apprehensive. "Uh oh. This can't be good."

After Peter and I talked, I took Bar down to the round pen for some ground work. He did great. Respectful, obedient, asking what was next--it was awesome.

But the best part came after we were done.

We walked out of the round pen and as I was closing the gate, he reached over to a pile of tack sitting there and picked up the bit and bridle sitting there, bit in his mouth, and looked at me. Expectantly.

I told him he had to wait, and why, and patted his fuzzy nose.

Soon, I promise. Soon.