Things I wish other drivers knew about hauling horses

My bumper sticker, now on order.

To my fellow horse-owning-and-hauling friends, this will be preaching to the choir. To my non-horse-owning-and-hauling friends (and I do have a few), please help pass the word to other non-horsie people and help me prevent trailer accidents.

All of us who haul horse trailers have stories and pet peeves. We even have fantasies of trailer-mounted weapons to deal with the idiocy that surrounds us while we attempt to safely haul our horses wherever we may be going. People cut us off. People tailgate. People flip us off when they pass us because they assume we're deliberately making their journey take longer.

Unfortunately, this can and does lead to tragedy.

As many in the horse community already know, Pollard Eventing--a prominent training team in the eventing world--lost three of their horses in a trailer accident over the weekend. Someone pulled out in front of them and there was no way the driver hauling the horses could stop in time. The trailer flipped over with six horses inside, one horse died at the scene and two more were euthanized over the weekend due to complications from the wreck.

This gives me nightmares. When I think of trying to get Bar and Lena out of a trailer lying sideways without causing any of us more harm, I can barely imagine how that might work. I hope I never have to find out. When I think of losing either of them, my heart squeezes in my chest and--yes--I have to blink back tears and think of something else.

But to lose my horses because someone else did something stupid? Because so many people do not understand the mechanics of towing a trailer--how that mass affects your speed, stopping distance and ability to correct on the fly? I honestly do not know how I would ever forgive that person--and that's assuming they made it safely away from the accident scene.

I've posted about this before, but here are some things I wish other drivers knew about what it's like to haul horses. (Feel free to add to my list in the comments field.)

1. We have to drive the lower posted speed limit because we are hauling a trailer. I'm not getting a speeding ticket just because you're in a hurry.


2. We are hauling live creatures in that metal box and we'd like them to be in good moods when we get where we're going. 1,200 pounds of cranky horse is not entertaining, let alone double or triple that. They are balancing inside, constantly compensating for the movement of the trailer, and driving like Mario Andretti makes that hard for them, which upsets them, can lead to injuries within the trailer and future trailer loading issues--all of which can be avoided by gentle driving practices.


3. Rocketing around corners is both dangerous and nearly physically impossible. Not to mention it affects the aforementioned live creatures and leads to number two above. Passing us on the inside of the curve is stupid and dangerous, but if you insist, be sure you hit the oncoming traffic instead of our trailer. We might even forgive you for hitting the truck as long as the horses are okay, but no guarantees since we love the truck, too.


4. We have to speed up slowly. Peeling out is unwise--even if we have the truck to do so--again for reason number two above. 


5. We need more room to slow down than you do in your sports car. A LOT more room. We can slam on the brakes, sure, but when you pull out in front of us, you better accelerate so we don't have to choose between hitting you and slamming the horses around or (worse) jack-knifing the trailer. You, by the way, will be on the losing side of that choice should we have to make it. If there isn't enough room for you to accelerate, DON'T try to pull in front of us. That three-to-four-second long space in front of us is there for  a reason--actually, two reasons in our case, Bar and Lena. Please be coherent enough to notice the size of the trailer behind the truck and calculate additional space needed for us to stop that rig. If you are unable to calculate it, DON'T pull out in front of us.


6. Tailgating will not make us drive faster AND it makes you harder for us to see if you're that close to the trailer so we may not notice you if and when we come to a pull out. If it is safe to pull over, believe me, we will. If it's not, we won't. We're not deliberately trying to slow you down, I promise. 


7. If you have any doubt, don't "go for it" and risk an accident. It's not worth it. 

Really, I think everyone out there should try hauling something at least once so they can feel the way the weight affects the handling of the vehicle. Doesn't have to be a horse trailer, not really. To really get a taste of it, put your kids, friends, dogs, cats--cats would be a great example--in a trailer and drive how you think we should be driving. Then open up that trailer and see just why we drive the way we do.

Be sure to let me know how that goes for you, especially if you use cats.

Slide Mountain

Gold Country in spring colors

Well we made it home from our mini-vacation at Slide Mountain Ranch with all of us (mostly) in good shape. Steve and I are both a little stiff, though the first day back of sitting in office chairs was actually worse than the aftermath of riding for a few days in a row. Lena also did a bit of a number on herself scrambling in the front bay of the trailer again, and Bar is still feeling a little on the lazy side. Even so, with the opening of overflowing work email inboxes, the temptation to turn around and head back to the hills was nearly overwhelming.

One of the best parts of going to Slide (aside from having my horses right outside my window, enabling much covert spying) is the quiet. We can be as busy as we want, we can be as mellow as we want, and there are good arenas and access to trails right from the property. It certainly leads to less monotony for everyone, that's for sure. Calabar and Lena both pushed out on the trail happily after a brief warm up in the arena on day two (after day one's raucous behavior in the upper arena, they were much calmer), trotting up hill, ears up and eager, only slightly apprehensive about what might lurk around the next turn. Dropping back down on the ranch after that for the rest of their breakfast and a snooze in the sun (or the shade in Calabar's case) was their idea of a pleasant afternoon. Steve and I chose to relax and read in the newly re-insulated and very cool bunk house, though me holding still for too long is not possible so I broke it up by walking out to pat the horses.

Lena watching the ranch activity

Bar and I spent a lot of time working on our trot this trip, at first without a lot of success. Watching us, Steve gently reminded me of what Ellen had taught him about working with the rhythm first, then trying to slow it down. Huh. It actually worked. Also, with the deep arena footing, I was able to achieve a lovely and gentle canter with Calabar that felt light and balanced. Our walk is good, our canter is usually good, and now we're making progress on the trot. Funny what a few days in a row of riding can do for you.

Lena and Steve working the mechanical cow

We even had a cutting lesson on the last day using the mechanical cow. Well. Steve and Lena had a cutting lesson. Calabar had a "why am I chasing this bag of socks?" lesson that was more amusing for us than instructive for him. He watched Lena closely and quite calmly as she fiercely chased the fake cow back and forth across the arena. Then it was his turn. Only he seemed to have figured out the cow only went so far before it came back, so no amount of encouragement--including way too much forward leaning by his rider--would make him run back and forth after it. He would turn in place, yes. He would follow for a few steps, yes. But as you can see, his expression shows he is not sure what the point of the exercise is--why waste all that energy when the device would simply return to him?

"Why am I chasing this bag of socks?"

I could have insisted, I could have used spurs or even the dressage whip, but I'd really rather he was more self-directed when we are doing something for fun. He will not ever be a cutting horse, no, but he does like to play so I was a little surprised he wasn't more interested--especially since he's chased it before. It was the last day, though, and it might be a better exercise to try when he's fresher.

Yep, there it is. Hang on, it'll be back.

We did have a couple kerfuffles that last day between the horses, though, and still can't quite figure out why. First, when we brought them down to saddle, Calabar lunged at Lena a little more aggressively than was called for. I'm okay with playful banter as they sort things out, but not all out teeth-baring--especially when I'm at the end of the lead rope. I got after him and they were good after that as we warmed them up for our lesson, hiked them back up the hill to the bunkhouse so Steve and could have some water before Ike got down to the arena, and then they were both very good in the arena. Lena only got upset once when Calabar and I left to go get Steve's spurs, but she was okay as soon as we got back. Then, as we were leaving the arena after the lesson and both horses were next to each other as we closed the gate, Calabar kicked at her and banged her left rear cannon bone. It was mostly superficial, but again--not okay when I'm at the other end of the lead rope.

Then we had to tolerate both of them hollering for each other while Steve and Lena were down at the trailer treating her wound. "He just kicked you!" Steve said to the anxious spotty mare. "She's still down there because you kicked her!" I said to the big brown horse as I made sure he didn't leap out of his paddock. Sheesh. Then everyone was back in their paddocks with an evening snack and calm settled once again over the ranch. Our best guess is Calabar simply gets grumpy and tired--no excuse, but something to watch for, be aware of and manage going forward. We should also work on the herd bound issue as it's a bit challenging sometimes.

The drive home was pretty uneventful, though we had to battle a headwind all the way so our gas mileage slipped a little. Still love the way the new truck hauls, though. It is steady and always seems to have more to give you. Pulling its own weight on an uphill freeway entrance, it jammed up to 70 (oops) with no problem and more power in reserve.

It is good to be home, even if my email inbox was full of fun and games. Oliver obviously missed Steve and has barely let him out of his sight (such as it is) since we got back. Elmer stomped around for a little while in disgust, but appears to have forgiven us as well.

Surprisingly, I had enough energy to get on Bar again after work yesterday. Actually, my back--having been stuck in a chair again at my desk for several hours--insisted. Bar was a little on the lazy side, but we had a good ride and he was patient and listened--even when I forgot how to do the trot thing again.

One of the things I noticed, while working through a few minor panic attacks this trip, is I can get on him and ride him in new situations--even if I'm a little terrified. So if I can ride him in new situations and new places and stay on and learn things, we can certainly do more at home, too. Since we both need to work on our stamina and attention spans before we go to Slide again--have to be able to keep up with those short little cutting horses, let alone Lena Rey--more will be required.

I actually think we're both up for it.

Last lazy day at the ranch

The last three days have gone by fast, but we've loved every minute of it. Even the more interesting minutes. Like chasing Calabar around in the vegetable garden. (See my previous post).

Calabar and his favorite tree at Slide

Today, I had big plans to get up early and ride twice--once in the morning, then once more later this afternoon. I got up early, but things are moving slowly here and all of us--horses included--are feeling mellow and relaxed, so one ride may have to suffice.

This really is one of my most favorite places on earth to be, not that I've been a lot of places, mind you, but the energy here is so good and the occasional lack of cell service is not such a bad thing. (She says, blogging away in a totally comfortable chair on the wireless we suggested they add.)

It's not fancy. No one turns down your sheets and leaves chocolate on your pillow every night. But nobody tells you how to ride (unless you ask for a lesson) and the peace and quiet--added to ponies right out the back door--is like heaven for me. Even though said ponies expect a treat every time they hear the bunk house door open.

We sat and had dinner on the deck last night, in full view of Calabar and Lena. They watched us the whole time, listening to us laugh and tell stories as they swished flies. They both seem happy and calm, though it took Calabar a little longer to get there. Lena seemed to say, "Oh, I remember this place," and settled in fairly quickly. Ike says she sure recognized the mule, aka the "food mobile," which comes as no surprise to those of us who know and love the spotty horse with the voracious appetite.

That same deck will be a perfect place to watch this evening's solar eclipse after we get that last ride in, which seems like an appropriate ending to our visit. Eclipse, my other favorite spotty horse--and Lena's older (he's 28) brother--was named for the eclipse. He and I have a grooming date today, so I actually get two e(E)clipses in one day.

I know people who push hard from one end of their vacation to the other, cramming in as much activity as possible. That's fine for them, and admittedly, it is hard for me to sit still and relax for too long--even with a good book. But this down time has recharged my seriously sapped batteries in a way that running from one thing to the next (which is what I do at work every day) could never do.

So now I will sign off and enjoy the rest of this day. Catch you all on the flip side!

Springtime antics at Slide Mountain

Calabar watching from the safety of his paddock

Happy Preakness day from Tuolumne, California where it is a beautiful, sunny day in Gold Country. Dry air, though, unlike what Maryland is probably like on race day.

We had our own little race yesterday up here. Well, Calabar and Lena did anyway. Steve and I stood and watched and made mental notes to ourselves for next time.

Lena trying to tell if she knows those other spotty horses she can see

Both horses seemed very relaxed and calm as we saddled them up. Like last time, I carried Calabar's bridle--intending to do some circles on the lead line to see where his head was. My own little safety check as it were. As it turned out, his head was on the fluffy soft footing that was PERFECT for rolling after being in a trailer for five hours the previous day.

Instead of calming down as he moved around me on the lead rope, he was actually becoming more agitated. Hm, that was odd as he will almost always relax after a few turns--especially if Lena is still near by. Turning my head to check on Steve and Lena, I suddenly felt the height of the lead rope in my hand drop several inches. And there was my big brown horse, in his saddle, rolling. It couldn't have been very satisfying, but he didn't care.

There are several routes I could have gone here, but first the saddle had to come off so I could wipe him and it off. Unfortunately, as I was taking off his saddle, Lena decided she also needed to roll off the travel grime. With Steve in the saddle no less.

Realizing we weren't getting anywhere with them until they got that (and more, as it turns out) out of their system we unsaddled them and let them loose together.

Woosh! After more intense rolling, they began chasing each other. I was headed over to the side to get out of their way when I heard, "Calabar, NO!" Fearing doom, I turned to see my big brown horse doing laps in the vegetable garden in the center of the arena. Now, luckily, Ike and Cheri had just begun planting--late this year--so there wasn't a lot for him to step on. Miraculously, he didn't step on anything--still don't quite know how that happened. As I attempted to guide him out of the entrance to said vegetable garden, he slowed to a stop, faced the two-or-so-foot-high railing and popped over it with ease.

And then the race was on.

It was like the Kentucky Derby, only with spots.

Calabar actually tired out before Lena did, but kept after her. At one point, he actually charged in front of her and turned her on the fence. That's my big, brown cow pony! Of course, then she passed him again and he reached out and bit her, which I believe is frowned upon in the big races.

After a few more minutes of all out speed, Calabar signaled he was ready to quit--ear and eye pointed at me, looking in at me with big, tired brown eyes. I walked towards them both and he stopped in his tracks and walked over to me. Lena wasn't quite so cooperative, at least until she saw me lead Calabar off, but she let Steve catch her shortly thereafter.

Then, oh yes, they got saddled and ridden some more.

Having Lena lunge Calabar may have been one of the best training tools I've ever used, actually. I'm much easier on him than she is. Things were a little more subdued this morning and we saddled and got right on and had pretty well behaved horses in the arena and on the trail.

Now, yes. This is probably not the best way we could have handled it, but on the other hand, I can certainly see their point of view. The paddocks here are big, but are on a slope and don't have the nice sandy dirt they have at home, where they are both  very regular and serious rollers. Plus they are in a strange, wide open place and rolling can mean vulnerability.

The footing in both arenas is deeper and softer than what we have at home (to protect the bones, joints, tendons and muscles of the cutting horses here) and, apparently, irresistible. Not that they tried today, mind you. Today they stood still while being saddled and walked into the arena without a hint of dirt sniffing. --Calabar gave me the most lovely, smooth uphill canter we've had in a long time--happy ears, gentle breathing--and then a trail ride to boot.

Next time, there will be some sort of running loose when we get here--though we will endeavor to spare the vegetable garden for sure. Running loose and rolling to get the traveling wigglies out before asking them to do something really seems only fair. I have to get my traveling wigglies out, too, though I usually stick to a walk and some yoga.

After our ride this morning, and after confessing the story to Cheri, she suggested we take them down to the covered arena and let them roll again. They now think they are in heaven. Lena even got all the way over, which--while her withers are not as significant as Calabar's--is a mighty feat nonetheless. There was, however, no racing. There was only a little half-hearted trotting. And then they were both happy to return to their paddocks for water and the rest of their breakfast.

He just looks sweet and innocent

Never a dull moment with these two, which is probably good all things considered. Ike did ask how high he should build the fence around the garden, though. Um? Calabar once supposedly jumped four-plus feet?

The only pictures so far are these, from me while on the ground. I should really start having a photographer come with us, I swear, but that might lead to far too much embarrassment. Then again, it might be worth it.

Constant learning

Calabar and Jess--to every season, turn...

Calabar has been my teacher now for over four years. Sometimes the lessons are good, sometimes they are not. Sometimes he is learning, sometimes I am learning. Of course, it's better if we are both learning, and that does actually happen sometimes.

We have been dutifully working on our trot like Ellen showed us and the big trot steps behind have been happening--when we are in a tiny, itsy, bitsy circle inside the round pen.

The first thing Bar told me is he's not as good at circles without clear boundaries. Apparently, I am not good at giving clear boundaries with my outside rein because he will lead with his outside shoulder and suddenly we're going sideways instead of in a circle.

We could not make this work at a trot--I'm sure there was bus-driving on my part even if I didn't mean to--so we slowed back down to a walk and got his shoulder to stop popping out and his neck to stop bending quite so far into the circle. After a few good walk circles each direction, we went back to the trot and got better trot circles both directions. I called it good at that point. When all else fails, slow it down and get it right before moving on.

The next ride, we again had lovely tiny trot circles, and still no success in trying to tie them together when I'd go out to the outside of the round pen. Not that he wouldn't trot, mind you, but he would trot his normal jar-my-fillings-out trot as soon as we moved beyond the inner circle.

It occurred to me it might not just be him. The boy really is trying, and I am feeling big movement behind when we do our tiny circles. While I'm sitting that trot, I might add. Sitting the bone-jarring trot is a nearly Herculean feat in my opinion. Especially, as I reminded the big brown horse, sitting it on the sacrum we broke last year.

But I am convinced it is possible to teach an OTTB that the trot is actually more than a warm-up gait to be performed with a high head and entirely on the front end. I like my teeth, thank you very much.

So our last ride, I tried something new. I signaled him the same way on the outside of the round pen as I do in the middle of the round pen. I know. A completely rational and reasonable and smart thing to do, right? A thing I didn't think of doing.

So funny! He got it. I have no idea if what I'm doing is right, but the point is he knew the queue and I wasn't using it so naturally, he wasn't doing what I was asking. At least until I asked him the same way I'd asked-and rewarded him for--before.

Why this didn't occur to me long before now is a tribute to my own learning curve and not a reflection on the lessons this horse has given me. He's been trying for months to tell me I was doing it wrong and actually seemed to relax when I went back to asking him in a consistent way.

Go figure.

Where have I been?

Not very far, it turns out. Just very busy.

Apparently my part-time job situation was a very temporary thing. However, during that brief lull, I found a lot to do so am now busier but having more fun than I could ever have imagined.

Paris nibbling

The NCRR crew is doing well, though our dream facility fell through due to insurance reasons (see my post about how lawyers and the insurance industry are killing the horse industry and spare me repeating one of my top rants.) Paris, our first rehab, has settled in nicely with Karen and is continuing to impress all of us with her gentle nature and sweet personality. We are hoping for rehab number two -- Gio -- to move up to Sonoma County at the beginning of June now that we've managed to find an existing facility.

We're all learning a lot about this part of the pie--how easy it is to find homes for some horses and how hard it is for the rest of them. It may be the most discouraging thing to deal with but it is the reality of what we're doing and just makes the success stories that much more inspiring.

Calabar and I continue to progress little by little. He still wishes I were braver more of the time, but we're both glad my butt has stayed in the saddle (knock wood) lately. We have a new Equipedic pad we're trying and so far it seems to fit the bill and the withers of doom. It's so nice, Steve thinks he may have to order one for Lena, but will test out mine on her first.

Lena is doing very well and even took Steve over a jump quite nicely thanks to Allie's tutelage. Lena quite enjoys the extra attention and riding and it has been really good for her. Calabar has relaxed about letting someone else ride Lena, too, now that he sees how happy Lena is.

Katie and Forrest--Western style

Forrest continues his progression as a Western horse. At a recent event, a woman we were talking to assumed that because we rode Thoroughbreds, we rode English. Katie pulled up this picture of her and Forrest just to prove our point--don't pigeon-hole a Thoroughbred!

Steve, Lena, Calabar and I (corrected, thanks Mom) are headed up to Slide in a few more days to trail ride and play with cows. Calabar is hoping he actually gets to be on the same side of the fence this time. I think he's ready. I may even be ready. We are all certainly ready for a vacation.

Heck, there might even be a few more blog posts and pictures of us in the near future.

Truck change

We have always loved trucks in this family, but until we had horses we didn't really have a permanent need for one. Then we somehow ended up with two trucks to satisfy two different needs.

Gus was our first, the combination family and trailer hauler--comfortable enough for five adults and with enough power to haul two horses all over Sonoma County for trail rides and up to Slide Mountain to chase cows. Gus (short for Augustus the Alligator Green Towing Machine) came to us at the end of 2006 when we had reached the end of the line with a Volvo station wagon that turned out to be more costly than it was worth to us.

Shortly thereafter, Steve bought Sam (a 2007 Nissan Frontier) to be the camping vehicle. Sam was good, but not great as it turns out. To get all the camping gear in, we had to add a camper shell that then made it nearly impossible to see out of Sam's back end.

Steve is fairly picky about vehicles, as am I it turns out. They not only have to do their jobs, they have to be entertaining to drive.

Sam's demise was that he was less fun to drive than Gus. Gus' demise was he only had a 4-speed transmission and a maximum tow rating that did not allow for a three-horse trailer and/or or altitude.

Enter the Ford EcoBoost--a six cylinder, twin turbo motor with 365 horses under the hood and a tow capacity of 11,100 pounds.  This truck seemed--on the surface at least--to solve both our truck needs in one lovely package.

Max the magnificent towing machine 

Meet Max. (Yes, as a matter of fact I do name all my vehicles.) Max is more fun to drive than Sam--despite being an automatic--and holds more cargo in a better configuration and actually gets better gas mileage. Oh yeah, really. Max also has a six-speed automatic, versus Gus' four-speed, so will drive and haul more efficiently.

Not to mention his obvious physical appeal.

Girls love trucks and I am no exception!

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. 

Calabar's mouth

Stoned pony.

Calabar has a mouth on him. A mouth with a wave and a slight over-jet (kind of like an over bite). The first time our vet Leslie did his teeth, it took an hour and a half and three shots. "He needs to go every six months," she said. And she doesn't recommend things just to steal my money. She does not like having to spend that much time in a horse's mouth--it's hard on her and  it's hard on the horse.

So we have spent the last four years or so getting his mouth in better shape and bit by bit, it's been working. Today, she was in his mouth just over a half hour and it really only took one big shot. He got a booster so she could work on his front teeth without major objection, but she was done almost before the full effects hit him.

A horse's teeth erupt continuously until they hit their late teens or early twenties. That means they keep growing out of their jaw and getting worn down--sometimes in nice, even patterns and sometimes not. Yes in Lena's case; no in Calabar's case. Because of his pathology--the wave and the over-jet--he gets sharp "hooks" on the sides of his teeth and at the very back of his bottom teeth. These hooks can (and have) caused ulcers in his mouth. Ulcers where the bit goes are not a good plan.  As a horse gets older and the teeth stop erupting, it leaves you with less and less room to correct the pathology. Big changes in a horse's mouth are not good, so our steady approach will serve us well as he ages.

In fact, it's already served us well. He had no ulcers in his mouth today and can go eight months this time instead of six.

Our funny moment came shortly after the above photo was taken. He looks out of it, right? He was snoring a little, even. I asked Leslie if she was okay watching him so I could go get my checkbook and she said yes, both of us assuming he was not going anywhere. I started up the barn aisle to the door and heard a shout and mild commotion behind me. I turned around to see my big brown horse staggering out the stall to follow me.

"I guess you should put him away, then," Leslie quipped.

So I led the stumble-footed boy to his paddock, didn't let him eat grass (much to his dismay), and reassured Lena and Forrest that Calabar was indeed okay. Stoned out of his gourd, but okay.

And with  a much happier mouth to boot.

Lena and Forrest have their turn on Tuesday. They can hardly wait.

Twisted

The ever-patient ex-racehorse--as long as he's eating

I must be twisted. And not in the "off my rocker" definition, no. My body is twisted. It must be. What other reason could there be for what was causing the look Calabar kept tossing me over his left shoulder the other day as we were cantering to the left. The repeated look, actually. Repeated every time my right stirrup connected with his right "elbow." 

"Stoppit!" He said, looking irritated with every stride.

"Stop what.. oh!" I said, realizing that his aggravated looks coincided perfectly with the thunk I felt at my toe. 

My saddle is an endurance saddle, complete with wide foam-cushioned stirrups. Wide both ways--sideways and back to front. The front of the lightweight but substantially shaped piece of metal with my foot in it was what was connecting with his elbow, causing much consternation and annoyance. 

I adjusted myself and we tried again. Same result. I turned him and cantered to the right, no interference. Turned him back to the left, thunk, followed by evil eye.

"Are you on the wrong lead?" I asked. 

Bar snorted. "No, you're being lame."

I contorted myself in several ways, trying to uncurl my spine, but still clubbed him with my foot. What was I doing? 

I never did figure it out exactly, but I did put my English stirrups on to negate the likelihood of elbow interference and it has helped. Our canter to the left still needs work--it's just not as smooth and happy as it is to the right--but at least I'm not getting a look, now, so we're making steps in the right direction. 

Bar says I need to visit the chiropractor anyway. Plus sit in the hot tub and do more yoga. Who am I to object if it makes him more comfortable, right?

Calabar-land

"You has hat hair, Mom."

With all the other exciting news going on in my world, there has been a little blog neglect over here at Spotty Horse News. And there are actually some really cool things to report from Calabar-land.

You didn't know he had a land? Well, he does. It is special and things there revolve around his awesome brown self.

Lena has a new friend, someone who rides with a gentle hand and treats her with respect. This is good because Lena needs more riding. How is this related to Calabar-land? He can relax and not worry. He worried before, with good reason as it turns out. The other person we let ride Lena did not treat her gently and she was upset and sore before we figured it out. Steve is still kicking himself over that, but Calabar assures us he will let us know when things are amiss with his spotty lady friend.

In fact, he did so with me just the other day. He and I were riding in the indoor arena and he got a little agitated. He didn't buck or try to dump me, he just put his head down and ran a little harder than was called for. He responded when I told him "easy" and then I heard a slight ruckus from the outdoor. I thought it was just Lena running, but it turns out Steve had fallen off after Lena had stopped faster and harder than anticipated and both of them were a little upset. How my horse knows this through arena walls is not clear to a mortal such as myself, but it is empirically obvious.

Speaking of mortal experiences, I touched a higher plane a few days before that. My horse asked me for contact. Yep. He reached right down and grabbed that bit. Twice. That is the first time--or at very least the first time I recognized it. I was so excited I am mildly afraid I did not respond correctly. I think I squealed. I know I laughed and said, "Good boy," very enthusiastically.

He may have sighed in resignation, stuck with an owner who does not know immediately what to do with that gift of connection he gave.

And THEN! After that lovely stretch down, standing in the cross ties, he let me rub his neck. This is not normal. He has sore spots in his neck that he sort of wants me to rub but when I do so, it makes him chew hard on the cross ties. He knows better than to try to bite me at this point, but he also is very clear on how much pressure is too much. Mostly, the pressure has always been too much, but the other day? It was just right in Calabar-land. Not one, not two, but three blows out as I rubbed. Three! Plus a head shake or two.

So despite my recent preoccupation with other Off-Track Thoroughbreds, Calabar is pleased to have things in his land going along as he expects. As long as I don't bring any of these others home, all will still be well in Calabar-land. He says there is enough for him to manage with just Lena and Forrest, thank you very much. And good night.

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.

Another birthday wish

Dad and me at the barn, November 2007

My father would have been 70 today and so I wish him a happy, wish-you-were-here birthday.

Dad was, at least as the family story goes (and we know about family stories), due on April 1st but held out until April 2nd. No fool am I, said he. Calabar gladly picked up that moniker many years later and wears it quite proudly as a matter of fact.

My dad was not an April fool per se, but a writer, a wordsmith and a terrible pun-meister--all of which was colored by his often-bawdy sense of humor. He loved words and crafting with them. He loved the lyric of languages and picked up foreign dialects with an impressive ear for accent and intonation.

The fact that he loved my blog filled me with great pride. He never once corrected my writing, though I'm sure there were many occasions to do so. He just read it and told me to keep writing.

So I have.

I love the ease of writing and editing on the computer--very easy to change and rearrange text, thoughts, the entire flow of a sentence. But when I have something serious to write--something that needs a more personal, permanent and visceral feel--I pick up the fountain pen Dad left behind and scratch my thoughts down in a Moleskin notebook, much the way he did for years. Sometimes I can even read what I wrote later--in and of itself another legacy--and I always end up with ink on my fingers when I'm done.

I miss you, Dad. I don't forget you're gone anymore, but your absence still makes me sad. I suspect there will always be times that is the case.

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.

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.

There is a dark side

The good side of the racing industry coin, sadly not the only side

As I said in my last post, I am not a Pollyanna about the racing industry. There are beautiful, wonderful, caring people in it who do right by their horses, but there is a hideous dark side as well--a shadow that obscures the good people and that will eventually destroy the industry it purports to feed.

This New York Times article hits on nearly every bad part of horse racing: drugs, pushing horses that shouldn't run, running them until they break, and injuring them beyond repair, where they often take a human down with them.

Natalie at Retired Racehorse does a beautiful, if heart-wrenching job of summarizing the article here. Such a good job of describing the video, in fact, that I think I will have to skip it. Visions of Calabar dance in my head when I watch breakdowns and Steve once banned me from reading rescue blogs after watching me sob at each new example of the cruelty inherent in my own species.

But it's not really about cruelty, or not just about cruelty. It's about an industry that needs strong, fair, realistic and honest oversight and guidelines. Consequences for stepping outside the guidelines should be fair, swift and mandatory based on the offense--not how much money your stable makes. There needs to be a balance of people in the industry, as well as some from outside it. Those on the outside will offer perspective and serve as a reminder that the world is indeed watching, but the industry can only change, will only change, with pressure from the inside. There are enough good people to help with that.

It's more possible now than it has ever been. Social media, OTTB rescue groups, retraining organizations like the Retired Racehorse Training Project showing off what these talented horses can do once they come off the track--even the demise of the HBO series, Luck--are helping shine light on the darkness in the industry. As with any festering wound, light and air are the best medicine and I expect people like Arthur B. Hancock III (quoted in the NYT article), the Moss' and Team Zenyatta, and Jess Jackson's (owners of Curlin and Rachel Alexandra) estate to get in there and fight with the rest of us.


And what, you might ask, would be their motivation for that? How about turning their image around so people LIKE to go to the races? Not just to bet, not just for the casinos, but to watch these magnificent athletes run. To feel the thunder through the soles of their feet as the horses come down the stretch. Power, grace, pure energy--that prick of ears forward as a horse takes the lead and realizes he's in front. It's magic. Those of us who truly love the sport and love the horses know that and we will fight for it.


And maybe that will begin to heal the sport, bring honesty and integrity--and from there, new spectators--to the Sport of Kings.

Milazzo -- a real live happy racehorse

Milazzo raced again today and Steve and I made our way down to Golden Gate Fields on a clear, cold and breezy day to watch him run. We haven't seen him in person since before he really started training, back when he was a big cuddly teddy bear of a horse. His run today was good, and it reminds me that some horses really love what they do--despite what P.E.T.A. might think. Yes, folks, there is a tiny rant coming.

She's pointing the camera at us, dude

Milazzo looks a little different these days from when we first met him. He is now 17+ hands of racing fit Thoroughbred and is hard to miss as he comes bouncing along the track on the way to the paddock before the race. Actually, he's plain hard to miss anywhere. And he knows it. "That lady is taking our picture," he whispered to his groom before he know who I was. Once he figured out I was part of his herd--or at least an admirer with good taste--then he just posed.

"Ohai, make sure you get my good side. Luckily, that's every side,"

He won his last race quite handily and had a 5-furlong work last week that clocked in at just over a minute and gave Devon "goosebumps." But--as those in the world of Thoroughbred racing know--every race is a new adventure. Actually, that doesn't apply just to racing--every day with a horse is a brand new adventure. Just ask Calabar.

Milazzo didn't break as well today and that cost him some ground, but at the tail end of the race he made up a length at least with (maybe) three big strides, finished third and was still picking up steam at the pole--another furlong and he'd have had the race. He then spent his entire cool down looking back at the track, trying to out-pace the hot-walker and doing his best to convince us to take him back up to run.

Real life on the backside--love and green scarves.

This is a horse that knows his job and loves it. Loves it. This is a horse--a Thoroughbred racehorse--with owners and trainers that love him and take fantastic care of him. He was not stressed today, he was not overly-anxious. He ran well, he ran comfortably and even though he didn't win, he got love and affection and good care. And by everything I saw, he'll be ready to go again as soon as he's asked.

There has been a lot of controversy lately over the HBO series, Luck, and the horses that died during filming. It has, of course, brought more criticism of the racing industry. The picture above is a real face of the racing industry. Racing is public, racing is televised. It is not--as pointed out on this Retired Racehorse post--the only venue where there is abuse and it is not the only place bad things happen. Let's not forget it is also a place where good people love good horses and do good and wonderful things with those horses. Horses that were bred to run, bred to reach out and fly above the earth with grace, power and beauty.

I am not a Pollyanna. I know bad things happen to a lot of racehorses (and other horses), but I also know there are good people on the track and horses that absolutely love what they are doing. Milazzo is one of them. Calabar was one of them for a little while, too. They are both blessed to have had owners and trainers that do love their horses and will take care of them on the track and then try to find good homes for them after it's all over.

Demonizing racing really isn't the answer. Just coming up with a realistic conversation isn't the answer, either, but it will sure as heck get us a lot closer than closing our eyes, sticking our fingers in our ears and saying, "La la la la la."

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?)"

Weather-induced Thoroughbred antics or ?

Looking for that perfect spot..

Calabar and I have a routine. He likes our routine, it soothes his OCD-like tendencies. I like it because it can help me see trouble before it starts.

Can does not equal always.

It's simple, really. We go down to the round pen and if he's saddled, (better for him to carry it than me, right?) I remove the saddle so he can roll while I make a pit stop. His trot, though it's improving, is murder without having to contend with full bladder. He either rolls while I'm in the bathroom, or he waits until I come back so I can watch over him. Sometimes both. Sometimes he doesn't appear to roll at all--usually when it's a nice day out and he's not blanketed and has had the chance to lay in the dirt in his paddock.

Aahhh, that's it

After that, I let him warm up without the saddle for a few minutes, then saddle and warm him up a tiny bit more (you know, until the cinch actually fits right), then get on and ride. If this seems like a long time, it's usually not, and it lets me see where his head is on any given evening.

The operative word in that last sentence is "usually."

The other day, the wind was blowing cold in front of a storm front and all the horses were a little on the wild side. But not Bar, nope. He went with me calmly and we got all the way through the routine to the re-saddling part. I sent him out to warm up and he decided that was the time to roll. With the saddle on. Which he hasn't tried in, I don't know, years?

"What are you doing?!" I may have sounded vaguely exasperated.

Snort, squeal, buck, spin. Paw, paw, paw, round back, knees bend.. "NO!"

I kept him moving, changing directions, until he stopped trying to maim my saddle and calmed down enough to come to me. I admit it, I took off the saddle and checked the pad--we were trying a new one--and he went right over and rolled. Then came right back to me and let me saddle him again and proceeded to be quite well-behaved.

That is likely not the best training I could have done but it was how it played out and he hasn't tried it since. Maybe it was the pad, maybe it was just him being weird. And maybe it was just his answer to the universe at that particular second.

Life with horses--full of constant enigmas to unravel and new twists to the story. I can only imagine what might be next!