I can't believe it's that time of year already. Last night was opening night for Haunted.
For those of you who weren't around last year, Mike's friend, Andrew, lives on the family farm and they do a haunted hay ride every year. Mike has been working it for years and years. I worked it last year, playing the part of the happy-go-lucky dead clown in the Carnival of Chaos. There were strobe lights and fog machines and I chased a big, black football player all the way back to his car with the help of a conveniently placed chainsaw. Meanwhile, Mike chased people through the corn maze, decked out in black and wielding a chainsaw of his own. We had a lot of fun, but there was also a lot of drama. I didn't blog about it a whole lot because I was busy running in ten different directions at once, but readers got a glimpse at unruly customers when I talked about the night that I got punched in the face by three separate people. The stories, both good and bad, got a bit lost in the blogosphere because I was spending what little free time I had scrubbing latex off my face and catching up on sleep.
After it was all said and done, Mike and I collected our paychecks, said goodbye to our seasonal friends, and went home to think about whether we'd be doing it again this year. Well, winter is coming and I'm worried about clients dropping off and Haunted is a good chance to make some hefty extra cash. And so it begins.
We got to the farm a few hours early to make sure everything was properly in place. Mike and I walked the corn maze with Brandon, grumbling about long dead ends and moving hay bales to block routes. Things have changed a bit this year and the corn maze is now the scene of a clown car, featuring zombie antidote in the form of maltic acid (Nerds). Mike is a bit disgruntled because the changes mean he can't chase people full throttle out of the end of the corn maze and into the dead of night, which has always been the best part of the corn maze.
After running out for dinner, we sat on the tail gate of Mike's truck and watched the characters roll in. There is quite a collection of strange people working this attraction, and I think some of the real life persona are even more interesting than the fictional ones. There's Hunchy, who lives in a warehouse-turned-apartment. And then there's the girl who showed up wearing a fairy outfit and no bra... and those were her day clothes. She got changed INTO her costume after that. Let's not even get started on the Hill People.
But the people I've missed most are the people associated with the farm itself. Of course there's Andrew, who I feel like I don't see much any more. But there's also Juice, the only man in the world who can get away with calling me Toots. There's Trouble, the ski-instructor-turned-nanny who I met by fire-light over the summer, and her brother, who plays the part of the disgruntled crime scene investigator all too well.
It's going to be an interesting October.
This year the Carnival is all about serial killers. Andrew's girlfriend's best friend plays the part of Mama, complete with flower print gown and messy curlers. Her smothering, abusive mothering has turned out a son who loves her inappropriately and kills indiscriminately in his spare time. Guests walking through the house run into him time and again (the part is played by three identically-dressed men) and are confronted by victims in various stages of death.
And that's where I come in. I play the ghost of one of the victims. My set is a room full of abandoned furniture, covered in sheets. A screen plays scenes of kidnappees. A young boy in a cage crying out, "Don't hurt me!", a girl in chains screaming for her family, and a woman fleeing for her life in the corn while the killer follows her a la Blair Witch. Guests are distracted as they watch the footage, making their way through the sheet room. A spotlight shines on a piano with a covered lamp next to it. As they walk past the lamp, it whirls around, shouting, "You've made a mistake! It's too late! He'll get you!!! You don't want to end up here. Run! It's your only chance!" The stillness of the room provides me, in my white robes, with the perfect camouflage. I look like another piece of sheet-covered furniture until it's too late. I'm hoping for a fog machine to make the effect that much more startling.
I don't think the house is as scary as it was last year, but there's something about clowns that I just don't think can be matched.
Opening night is definitely a trial run. The wagons are few and far between, and many of the people who come through are the hard-to-scare or the obnoxious-in-high-school. We had one group duck the fence and come through three times before security sent them away. We also need a door person because I just can't effectively scare a group of twenty. I get a pretty good startle out of the first three or four, and if I play my cards right I can duck quietly behind the crowd and scare the last few again, but the dozen in the middle get robbed. We're still working out the quirks.
And then there's that awkward moment when one of my lesson moms turns out to be one of the other actors. She plays the part of a trapped victim who is still alive. Unknown to the customers, her cage is negatively charged. As they walk by, she screams and runs a positively charged rod loudly over the bars, sending real sparks flying everywhere. That one makes them jump, and when her eyes start to get itchy from the make-up, I get to try my hand at the neat special effect.
"Come closer," I wheeze. "I have to tell you something important..." The customers approach cautiously, wondering what I'm up to, and I scare the bejeezus out of them!
At the end of the night, Mike meets me at the actor trailer, his smile the only part of him that doesn't blend into the night. He kisses me, leaving a black smear on my ghostly cheek. I discard my robes and wave goodbye to the assorted ghouls around me, making my way to the hidden truck with Mike's fingers interlaced with mine.
We make it home by midnight, an early night, and hop in the shower. The scrubbing ritual begins as trails of black make-up and fake blood swirl around the drain.
Fall is finally in the air. Let the festivities begin!
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Booger
I have started working with Booger, Lilly's two year old filly. She is very smart and very stubborn. I think she's going to be a challenging horse to train, but I also think she could make for an incredible partner in the right hands. I'd love to see her become an endurance horse in a few years. Unfortunately, I have no real bearing over what her future holds.
I started working with the filly after she had a bit of a meltdown one day. Jen was out in the paddock and kicked a feed tub aside, casually, the way she frequently does when it's in her way. Booger was standing near by and spooked terribly, bucking, kicking out, and getting caught up in the fence. Thankfully the fencing at the barn is safe and sturdy so the damage was minimal. Still, the filly got pretty tangled up and skinned both shins on her hind legs. I received a text that simply said, "I think Booger needs some desensitizing."
The next time I went down, Lilly wanted nothing to do with me and I haltered Booger instead. The filly followed me happily into the barn and cross tied quietly. I know she's been handled pretty extensively since birth, but I wasn't sure exactly how much work she'd done. I figured I would start by just putting a saddle pad over her back. If that went well, I'd put the saddle on too. Booger's owner is all about getting all the basics installed first and not riding her at all until she turns three, which is good. I'd like to get her lunging consistently then ground driving then ponying out on the trails before anyone ever sits on her.
I walked across the barn and pulled the saddle blanket off the rack on the far wall. That's all I did. I didn't flap it around or whip around and throw it at her face. I simply pulled it off the rack, which is about hip height on me. You would have thought I tried to kill Booger. She flew back in the cross ties, threw her head in the air, and continued to spook herself. I had left her lead rope on her halter, just in case, so I was able to get a hold of her and get her under control before she hurt herself or broke anything.
We spent the next hour or so working on desensitization out in the field, where there was lots of open space and nothing to get tangled up in. Booger watched me, wide-eyed and flinching, as I played with the saddle blanket. I kept her on the end of a long lead (not quite a lunge line, but close) and shook the blanket, threw it on the ground, and waved it around over my head. Gradually, the look of terror receded and I was able to start approaching the filly with the Blanket of Doom. I moved with her, allowing her to back away from what was scaring her, but keeping her attention on me. Every time she'd relax, I'd stop flapping around like a mad person.
At long last, Booger put two and two together. When I raised the blanket, instead of flying backwards and trying to escape, she gingerly stretched her neck forward, flared her nostrils, and touched the offending piece of tack. I lavished her with praise and backed away. She stepped toward me.
It wasn't long after that that I was able to start rubbing her all over with the blanket. From there I got to where I could place it gently on her back. By the end of our session, I was able to fling it onto her back, toss it over her face, and slide it off her far side onto the ground without her moving a muscle. Turns out the blanket isn't a horse eating monster after all.
You would think that all the fuss over the blanket would mean that the saddle would have been the next big battle, but Booger surprised me. We went back up to the barn, stood back on the cross ties, and tacked up like she'd been doing it her entire life.
We called it a day and Booger went back in her field.
Teaching Booger the basics of lunging has been just as much of a battle. Just like the other horses at the barn, Booger is extremely barn sour. Every time she gets to the part of the circle that's closest to the gate, she pulls toward the barn. Putting pressure on her head results in her grinding to a halt, facing me, and backing toward the barn with her head in the air. The good news is that Booger will respond to steady pressure on her halter. For example, she's very good at tying. Basically, every time she'd pull toward the barn, I would 'reel her in' until she got close enough to me to respond to my cue and circle again.
After one session, I got Booger consistently lunging to the left and trotting right past the barn. Teaching her to go to the right proved to be another challenge. She was determined that the same concepts could not possibly apply in the new direction and had to test me from scratch. That day, I was trying to video tape our session so I could get a before video on the black filly. Unfortunately, my battery died shortly into the session, but not before I got this clip of Booger throwing a tantrum. I had asked her to circle to the right and she refused. To get her unstuck, I let her go left. When she realized I'd tricked her into moving her feet, she got pissed and reared several times in protest.
By the end of THAT session, I did have her going both ways, albeit not always nicely.
On top of the fact that she's stubborn and opinionated and reactive, Booger is also extremely dog aggressive, a lesson I learned one day when Herbie came into the pasture with me. Herbie is very good about staying at my side when we walk through horse pastures away from home. This day was no different. Well, when Booger spotted us from two fields over, she picked up her head, pinned her ears, and made a beeline for my poor little dog. I had just enough time to scream, "RUN HERBIE!!!" before Booger was on top of us. Herbie is wicked fast, thank god, and was able to outrun the horse long enough to duck under a fence line. Booger went around the fence to go after her again. I whistled for Herbie who came right back to me and I made a bee line for the gate to the barn. Herbie ran at my heels while Booger charged us both. Thankfully, I was able to shoo her back by hissing and waving my arms in her face. Eep! I don't think I could talk Herbie into going back in that field if I tried!!
But even with all her quirks and bad habits, Booger has finally made a break through. I went out there on Wednesday. The trails were closed for the afternoon for hunting so working with Lilly was out of the question. Instead, I haltered Booger and took her out to the 'ring'. For the first time since I've started working with her, she didn't fight me every step of the way. She actually seemed to retain knowledge and lunged happily around me without stopping by the barn or pulling my arms out. Best of all, she went both ways with matching ease. Aha! I appear to have won the first battle.
I plan to get footage of her being good this week to contrast the behavior described here. I need to start getting better at documenting the 'before' on some of these horses because it would make the 'after' much more dramatic.
I started working with the filly after she had a bit of a meltdown one day. Jen was out in the paddock and kicked a feed tub aside, casually, the way she frequently does when it's in her way. Booger was standing near by and spooked terribly, bucking, kicking out, and getting caught up in the fence. Thankfully the fencing at the barn is safe and sturdy so the damage was minimal. Still, the filly got pretty tangled up and skinned both shins on her hind legs. I received a text that simply said, "I think Booger needs some desensitizing."
The next time I went down, Lilly wanted nothing to do with me and I haltered Booger instead. The filly followed me happily into the barn and cross tied quietly. I know she's been handled pretty extensively since birth, but I wasn't sure exactly how much work she'd done. I figured I would start by just putting a saddle pad over her back. If that went well, I'd put the saddle on too. Booger's owner is all about getting all the basics installed first and not riding her at all until she turns three, which is good. I'd like to get her lunging consistently then ground driving then ponying out on the trails before anyone ever sits on her.
I walked across the barn and pulled the saddle blanket off the rack on the far wall. That's all I did. I didn't flap it around or whip around and throw it at her face. I simply pulled it off the rack, which is about hip height on me. You would have thought I tried to kill Booger. She flew back in the cross ties, threw her head in the air, and continued to spook herself. I had left her lead rope on her halter, just in case, so I was able to get a hold of her and get her under control before she hurt herself or broke anything.
We spent the next hour or so working on desensitization out in the field, where there was lots of open space and nothing to get tangled up in. Booger watched me, wide-eyed and flinching, as I played with the saddle blanket. I kept her on the end of a long lead (not quite a lunge line, but close) and shook the blanket, threw it on the ground, and waved it around over my head. Gradually, the look of terror receded and I was able to start approaching the filly with the Blanket of Doom. I moved with her, allowing her to back away from what was scaring her, but keeping her attention on me. Every time she'd relax, I'd stop flapping around like a mad person.
At long last, Booger put two and two together. When I raised the blanket, instead of flying backwards and trying to escape, she gingerly stretched her neck forward, flared her nostrils, and touched the offending piece of tack. I lavished her with praise and backed away. She stepped toward me.
It wasn't long after that that I was able to start rubbing her all over with the blanket. From there I got to where I could place it gently on her back. By the end of our session, I was able to fling it onto her back, toss it over her face, and slide it off her far side onto the ground without her moving a muscle. Turns out the blanket isn't a horse eating monster after all.
You would think that all the fuss over the blanket would mean that the saddle would have been the next big battle, but Booger surprised me. We went back up to the barn, stood back on the cross ties, and tacked up like she'd been doing it her entire life.
"Is that how it works? That's not so bad."
We called it a day and Booger went back in her field.
Teaching Booger the basics of lunging has been just as much of a battle. Just like the other horses at the barn, Booger is extremely barn sour. Every time she gets to the part of the circle that's closest to the gate, she pulls toward the barn. Putting pressure on her head results in her grinding to a halt, facing me, and backing toward the barn with her head in the air. The good news is that Booger will respond to steady pressure on her halter. For example, she's very good at tying. Basically, every time she'd pull toward the barn, I would 'reel her in' until she got close enough to me to respond to my cue and circle again.
After one session, I got Booger consistently lunging to the left and trotting right past the barn. Teaching her to go to the right proved to be another challenge. She was determined that the same concepts could not possibly apply in the new direction and had to test me from scratch. That day, I was trying to video tape our session so I could get a before video on the black filly. Unfortunately, my battery died shortly into the session, but not before I got this clip of Booger throwing a tantrum. I had asked her to circle to the right and she refused. To get her unstuck, I let her go left. When she realized I'd tricked her into moving her feet, she got pissed and reared several times in protest.
On top of the fact that she's stubborn and opinionated and reactive, Booger is also extremely dog aggressive, a lesson I learned one day when Herbie came into the pasture with me. Herbie is very good about staying at my side when we walk through horse pastures away from home. This day was no different. Well, when Booger spotted us from two fields over, she picked up her head, pinned her ears, and made a beeline for my poor little dog. I had just enough time to scream, "RUN HERBIE!!!" before Booger was on top of us. Herbie is wicked fast, thank god, and was able to outrun the horse long enough to duck under a fence line. Booger went around the fence to go after her again. I whistled for Herbie who came right back to me and I made a bee line for the gate to the barn. Herbie ran at my heels while Booger charged us both. Thankfully, I was able to shoo her back by hissing and waving my arms in her face. Eep! I don't think I could talk Herbie into going back in that field if I tried!!
But even with all her quirks and bad habits, Booger has finally made a break through. I went out there on Wednesday. The trails were closed for the afternoon for hunting so working with Lilly was out of the question. Instead, I haltered Booger and took her out to the 'ring'. For the first time since I've started working with her, she didn't fight me every step of the way. She actually seemed to retain knowledge and lunged happily around me without stopping by the barn or pulling my arms out. Best of all, she went both ways with matching ease. Aha! I appear to have won the first battle.
I plan to get footage of her being good this week to contrast the behavior described here. I need to start getting better at documenting the 'before' on some of these horses because it would make the 'after' much more dramatic.
Product Review: Red Dog Tugs
Herbie is a bit... tough... on her toys. She has strong jaws, a lot of energy to get out, and a body full of muscle to back it up. Toys just don't last long. We keep her well-stocked with balls of all shapes and sizes, but they get destroyed quickly. Tennis balls, lacrosse balls, even basketballs all get shredded/deflated. I even saw her shred a baseball once.
Herbie's favorite game of all time is tug of war. Unfortunately, even the sturdiest rope tugs don't last long around here. Even if she doesn't destroy them during the actual game, she'll unravel them given five minutes of alone time with them.
On top of that, playing tug with her takes its toll on me too. She is flat out stronger than I am (and I wrestle thousand pound animals for a living!) She has no quit and the way she thrashes back and forth means I need my chiropractor to snap my shoulders back into place the next day. Let's not even get into the fact that my hands get raw pretty quickly in the process.
So when friend and fellow-blogger, Katie, came up with Red Dog Tugs, I was thrilled. She owns two pit bulls herself and I know that they play every bit as rough as Herbie. I love to support my online friends in their endeavors, and at only $16 a pop, how could I say no? I requested a large pink and purple tug and it was ready before I knew it. Ordering through her Etsy page made paying easy.
I came home from my 80 mile ride to see the package sitting on the coffee table in the living room.
"Herbie, what is this? Is this for you?" I asked my dog, who was getting increasingly excited. Clearly I DID have something for her!
My first impressions of the toy were that it felt sturdy, but surprisingly light. The colors were, of course, brilliant, and the long ends were just enough to tease my ferocious pibble.
Herbie sniffed cautiously, the end of her tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour, waiting for permission to grab the toy. The one thing we've done all along is make it very clear that it's only ok to tug when the humans decide to tug. Her destructive tendencies are, thankfully, something she reserves only for things that are definitely hers.
I gave her the "OK!" command and she grabbed the toy. Thanks to the square braid, she was able to really sink her teeth in and get a good hold. I braced, waiting for impact. Herbie pulled back and... the toy stretched!!! Herbie thrashed and my shoulders stayed in their sockets! We played and played and played and the skin on my hands was in tact! The toy, which is tough, tough, tough, was easy on my body while giving my dog a hell of a work out.
And when we were done, the toy just shrank back down to its original size and shape, ready for round two. Herbie walked away panting, and collapsed in a satisfied heap on the carpet.
We've had the toy for a week now and it is still in one piece. Aside from the fact that there are some slobber stains on the light pink fleece, it still looks good as new. Even the loose ends are in tact.
On top of that, this tug has become Herbie's #1 favorite toy, hands down. She actually knows it by name, and if you tell her to go get her 'pull', she goes skidding across the kitchen floor to fetch it. We play tug several times a day and I've actually found a toy that makes it possible for me to exhaust her without wearing me out.
But don't take my word for it. Check out this video of Herbie playing with her new toy and Mike in the back yard after work:
Herbie's favorite game of all time is tug of war. Unfortunately, even the sturdiest rope tugs don't last long around here. Even if she doesn't destroy them during the actual game, she'll unravel them given five minutes of alone time with them.
On top of that, playing tug with her takes its toll on me too. She is flat out stronger than I am (and I wrestle thousand pound animals for a living!) She has no quit and the way she thrashes back and forth means I need my chiropractor to snap my shoulders back into place the next day. Let's not even get into the fact that my hands get raw pretty quickly in the process.
So when friend and fellow-blogger, Katie, came up with Red Dog Tugs, I was thrilled. She owns two pit bulls herself and I know that they play every bit as rough as Herbie. I love to support my online friends in their endeavors, and at only $16 a pop, how could I say no? I requested a large pink and purple tug and it was ready before I knew it. Ordering through her Etsy page made paying easy.
I came home from my 80 mile ride to see the package sitting on the coffee table in the living room.
"Herbie, what is this? Is this for you?" I asked my dog, who was getting increasingly excited. Clearly I DID have something for her!
Herbie's tug on the right.
My first impressions of the toy were that it felt sturdy, but surprisingly light. The colors were, of course, brilliant, and the long ends were just enough to tease my ferocious pibble.
Herbie sniffed cautiously, the end of her tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour, waiting for permission to grab the toy. The one thing we've done all along is make it very clear that it's only ok to tug when the humans decide to tug. Her destructive tendencies are, thankfully, something she reserves only for things that are definitely hers.
I gave her the "OK!" command and she grabbed the toy. Thanks to the square braid, she was able to really sink her teeth in and get a good hold. I braced, waiting for impact. Herbie pulled back and... the toy stretched!!! Herbie thrashed and my shoulders stayed in their sockets! We played and played and played and the skin on my hands was in tact! The toy, which is tough, tough, tough, was easy on my body while giving my dog a hell of a work out.
And when we were done, the toy just shrank back down to its original size and shape, ready for round two. Herbie walked away panting, and collapsed in a satisfied heap on the carpet.
We've had the toy for a week now and it is still in one piece. Aside from the fact that there are some slobber stains on the light pink fleece, it still looks good as new. Even the loose ends are in tact.
On top of that, this tug has become Herbie's #1 favorite toy, hands down. She actually knows it by name, and if you tell her to go get her 'pull', she goes skidding across the kitchen floor to fetch it. We play tug several times a day and I've actually found a toy that makes it possible for me to exhaust her without wearing me out.
But don't take my word for it. Check out this video of Herbie playing with her new toy and Mike in the back yard after work:
Sunday, September 23, 2012
CTR Preview
Three days, 80 miles, and about a billion bee stings later, we came out Reserve Champions:
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
A Night at Devon
On Saturday night Mike, OTB, and I joined Erin and her friend, Rebecca, at Devon for a night of show jumping. We stopped by later in the evening, just in time to catch the two big classes at the end of the night. I devoured an awesome caramel/chocolate chip apple and eye-balled some expensive knickknacks.
We brought Herbie and she got to meet lots of people and dogs, including a bull mastiff puppy who was taller than her and outweighed her by twenty pounds at only four months old.
I had a woman approach me to ask what kind of dog Herbie was. She seemed surprised that she was a pit bull and announced, "But she's so nice. I don't normally like pit bulls." She then went on to tell me that she has an American Bulldog who looks just like Herbie, and that's why she approached us. He's the same size and has the same face and blah blah blah. Then she whipped out a photo of her dog, who really does look like he was separated from Herbie at birth.
"Well," I told her, with the corners of my mouth twitching, "You may not think you like pit bulls, but congratulations, you own one."
"That changes everything!" she exclaimed. "I guess I like pit bulls after all!"
Seriously... shelters are not helping the breed by lying about what they are at the time of adoption. Sheeeeesh.
The showing itself was rather lackluster. It was one of the weeniest Grand Prix classes I've ever seen and there was some truly atrocious riding. I'm not one to critique people who ride at a much higher level than I will ever achieve, but some of it was really horrific. One guy slammed down on his horse's back and mouth so hard that the horse threw a rearing tantrum for several seconds before he could be convinced to go over the next jump. Another woman was hauling on her horse the entire time and leaning back so badly that I thought she'd topple right over his hindquarters. Not surprisingly, she plowed the poor horse right through one of the jumps.
Thankfully there were some very nice riders, some of whom were local, and a few of whom were even riding in snaffle bits :)
When one of the riders in the finale was announced, I actually did a double take. It was one of my old riding instructors, who I watched grow as a rider back in my lesson days.
"I rode with him!" I exclaimed.
OTB replied, "That explains why he's been looking over here all night, trying to get your attention!"
The jump off was actually pretty exciting. There were only three horses, two of which were ridden by Laura Chapot. At the last jump, she pulled a ballsy turn around that knocked seconds off the clock. She repeated it on her second round, setting an impressive time to beat. The other rider, undaunted, threw in a roll back and galloped over the last jump for home. She came in between the two Chapot times, earning second for the night, and the crowd burst into hearty cheers. It was very cool to have something to cheer about.
Over all I'm glad we went. Mike enjoyed seeing all the high end jumps up close, taking inspiration for future jump plans. I had a great time with good people and Herbie got to do!something.
I didn't take as many photos as I would have thought, but I have quite a few to share nonetheless.
We brought Herbie and she got to meet lots of people and dogs, including a bull mastiff puppy who was taller than her and outweighed her by twenty pounds at only four months old.
"Well," I told her, with the corners of my mouth twitching, "You may not think you like pit bulls, but congratulations, you own one."
"That changes everything!" she exclaimed. "I guess I like pit bulls after all!"
Seriously... shelters are not helping the breed by lying about what they are at the time of adoption. Sheeeeesh.
Thankfully there were some very nice riders, some of whom were local, and a few of whom were even riding in snaffle bits :)
When one of the riders in the finale was announced, I actually did a double take. It was one of my old riding instructors, who I watched grow as a rider back in my lesson days.
"I rode with him!" I exclaimed.
OTB replied, "That explains why he's been looking over here all night, trying to get your attention!"
Over all I'm glad we went. Mike enjoyed seeing all the high end jumps up close, taking inspiration for future jump plans. I had a great time with good people and Herbie got to do!something.
I didn't take as many photos as I would have thought, but I have quite a few to share nonetheless.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Jazz Moves In
As I mentioned, the owner of the barn that Jazz has been at for the last decade is an older gentleman whose daughter told him he can't do horses any more. The plan was to move Jazz to the fancy barn down the street from CZ's house. CZ is going on a month long business trip to Colorado and was hoping to move the horse before she left. I was going to come up and ride her twice a week, as usual while CZ was gone, and potentially introduce her to trail riding in the process.
While I was schooling canter pirouettes (!!) one day a couple weeks ago, CZ announced from the rail that she'd had a light bulb moment.
"Why am I going to pay them to board her for a month and pay you to ride her twice a week and have you drive all the way up here when I can't be here to see her anyway, all the while worrying whether you'll be able to schedule it with them and whether she's doing well? I could just board her at your place while I'm gone. You could ride her more, it would save you the gas, and I could rest easy, knowing she's being cared for and doing well."
I certainly couldn't argue with that.
Unfortunately, CZ's last ride at home on Jazz didn't go well. She texted me late at night, sounding completely dejected and announcing that she'd fallen off the mare again. Apparently they'd been having a very good ride full of floaty trot, leg yields, and turns on the haunches when the mare suddenly spooked, bolted, and bucked. CZ stayed on through the initial acrobatics, but the mare paused only momentarily before taking off anew. CZ came off, hit the ground hard, and really hurt her back. Despite her physical pain and shaken confidence, she caught the mare, climbed back on board, and finished on a good note. Sadly, the fall was enough to undo months of progress in her riding and confidence building.
When I came to ride that Friday, CZ was on the verge of giving the mare up entirely. With tears in her eyes, she declared, "Dom, I can't afford to keep getting hurt. I just can't." Her lip quivered and I nodded sympathetically.
That particular lesson ended up being part training ride, part therapy session. I told CZ that I wasn't going to try to sway her decision one way or the other. The horse definitely has some unpredictable moments. They are few and far between these days, but they still happen. My theory is that the mare gets so focused on the tricky stuff that she tunes everything out around her. When something finally grabs her attention, it catches her off guard, causing her to spook. I am able to stop her from spooking 99% of the time and can ride it out the other 1%, but CZ just cannot do the same. I told her she had to weigh the pros and cons. I told her only she could decide if the risk of falling off and getting hurt was greater than the joy she gets when a ride goes well. And I do think they're making amazing progress. She could get another, older, quieter horse, but the chances of that horse having the kind of training that Jazz has are slim. Even if the new horse were to be trained spectacularly, it would take a long time to build a relationship with the new mount. CZ would have to re-evaluate her goals. Is it more important for her to just be able to trust and enjoy her horse or is the dressage something she really finds rewarding and wants to concentrate on?
My advice was not to make a decision while the physical pain was still prevalent and the adrenaline was still high.
"Go on vacation," I told her. "Take a break from your horse. See how much you miss her. See if you even want to ride her when you get back. If you do, ride her three or four times and see how that makes you feel. See how well you do. See if the fear is gone or stronger than ever. Then make a logical decision, not an emotional one. If you do decide to sell her, find a home that will be understanding of her abilities and past injury. Write up a contract that gives you visiting rights and first refusal. If someone isn't willing to sign that contract, they're not the right home for your baby. Personally I think you're a good team. I think you can do amazing things with this horse and I think you love her. I also understand that you cannot keep falling off and that the fear of injury is very real. Only you can decide how much risk is too much risk. There is always risk in horseback riding."
At the beginning of the lesson, CZ seemed pretty set on getting rid of the horse, but by the end she seemed pretty much torn down the middle. By the time I picked Jazz up the following week, her back had started to heal and she was talking about future rides at the new barn. Only time will tell how this one ends.
As luck would have it, Marissa was out of town on Thursday and Friday and let me borrow her rig to go get the mare. Bryce dropped me off at the train station (over the rickety old bridge) to pick up the truck on Thursday night and Mike came with me on Friday morning to hook the trailer up at the crack of dawn. I made a beeline for north Jersey, covering the 80 mile drive in a reasonable amount of time. I met CZ at the barn and helped her tie up some loose ends before loading up the mare. With the contract and Coggins in the cab, I finished packing the trailer and took Jazz's lead.
Jazz hasn't been on a trailer in years so I was prepared to have loading take a while. I explained my method to CZ, promising not to beat her horse with a broomstick.
"The idea is for her to be comfortable in the trailer. She can get on and off as many times as she needs to in order to get relaxed. I'm not a fan of slamming the ramp up the second the horse puts all four feet in the box."
Jazz obediently dropped her nose and sniffed the whole ramp before putting a foot on. With some encouragement, she put two feet on the ramp. Then she backed off. Then she put two feet all the way in the trailer. Then she backed off. Then she put all four feet on the ramp. Then she backed off. Then she walked halfway in the trailer. Then she backed off. Then she marched right into the trailer and got an apple. Then she backed off. Then she loaded right back on and stood still. I gave her a moment before clipping the tie to her halter.
That was a mistake.
A moment later, Jazz decided she'd really like to back off one more time. I hadn't realized she was in a breakaway halter and she sort of walked right out of it and made her way down the driveway. I was able to catch her right away and she walked right back into the trailer like nothing ever happened. This time, I put the butt bar up before I tied her head.
Oops.
The drive down was uneventful. CZ followed me and I stayed in the middle lane, maintaining a safe following distance and going with the flow. An hour and a half later, we pulled up the driveway at Cattail Farm and I parked the rig. All my horses came up to the fence, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in size order, ears pricked, staring at the new arrival.
Ooh. A trailer. I wonder who she's taking this time. A new horse? I wonder if it's here to stay.
When they realized I wasn't putting anyone with them, they turned in unison and walked away.
I backed Jazz off the trailer and she looked around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in her new surroundings. I took her into the front pasture with the minis and walked her around, showing her the water tubs and the run in shed before turning her loose. Jazz stared longingly at the horses on the far side of the property. It had been four months since she'd had a buddy. When she realized she couldn't get to them, she trotted exactly once around the perimeter of the field before stopping next to us to stare some more. She was being remarkably calm (and boring).
By then, the minis had come out of the shed. I could see that Jazz was puzzled by them, and she kept trying to sneak behind them to get a better look, head craned forward, neck arched dramatically, nostrils flared. She sniffed cautiously, then backed away.
I don't get it. You SMELL like horses, but you're so LITTLE.
Eventually she gave up trying to figure it all out and dropped her head to graze. Soon after, CZ left and I took the trailer back to Marissa's barn, where I successfully backed it into its space. I left the truck at our house while I finished running to the rest of my clients for the day.
The next day, I decided to give Jazz a buddy that was more her size. I took CP, who is friendly to everyone, out to introduce them. Jazz got excited when she saw the pony coming through the gate and trotted over to say hello. They touched noses and she squealed once, in typical mare fashion. They ran around the field a bit, getting to know each other, and have been inseparable since. Jazz follows him around constantly and he adores her. It's actually going to be a bit sad when he leaves in two weeks.
Yesterday I rode Jazz for the first time in her new surroundings. She's actually a little too attached to CP and I had to physically drag her out of the field to get her into the barn. CP wasn't helping by running back and forth, neighing for her. But my approach is, "This is your new life. Deal with it," and I'm sure she will.
Jazz was very nervous on the cross ties, dancing back and forth and craning her head around while I saddled her. Because of her behavior on the ground, I decided to lunge her before riding so she could get a look at the new-to-her ring. She gawked at my colorful jumps a bit, but seemed to settle down pretty quickly. She stood stock still while I mounted and we went on to have a good, if not terribly impressive ride. We walked, trotted, and cantered, worked on some collection, and threw in some circles. Jazz behaved herself just fine, but she was lathered within a short period of time, despite cool September weather. I suspect she was internalizing all her anxiety. When I got her back to the barn an d bathed her, she was very jumpy, leaping every time the water touched her, and threatening to bolt away from the moving hose. I've seen her get bathed several times so I know this is unlike her.
I suspect that Jazz is not a naturally bold horse. She's gotten comfortable over years of living in the same place, but new things still startle and alarm her. She hasn't been taught how to deal, and I suspect the reason she acts out when she gets caught off guard is because she doesn't know how else to react. The next six weeks should change a lot of that in her. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's creating spook-free horses who know how to think through potentially scary situations. I think addressing those underlying issues will help CZ in her long term struggle with this mare.
I also plan on packing the pounds on her, so there should be a physical difference in her by the time she goes home as well as a mental one.
"Why am I going to pay them to board her for a month and pay you to ride her twice a week and have you drive all the way up here when I can't be here to see her anyway, all the while worrying whether you'll be able to schedule it with them and whether she's doing well? I could just board her at your place while I'm gone. You could ride her more, it would save you the gas, and I could rest easy, knowing she's being cared for and doing well."
I certainly couldn't argue with that.
Unfortunately, CZ's last ride at home on Jazz didn't go well. She texted me late at night, sounding completely dejected and announcing that she'd fallen off the mare again. Apparently they'd been having a very good ride full of floaty trot, leg yields, and turns on the haunches when the mare suddenly spooked, bolted, and bucked. CZ stayed on through the initial acrobatics, but the mare paused only momentarily before taking off anew. CZ came off, hit the ground hard, and really hurt her back. Despite her physical pain and shaken confidence, she caught the mare, climbed back on board, and finished on a good note. Sadly, the fall was enough to undo months of progress in her riding and confidence building.
When I came to ride that Friday, CZ was on the verge of giving the mare up entirely. With tears in her eyes, she declared, "Dom, I can't afford to keep getting hurt. I just can't." Her lip quivered and I nodded sympathetically.
That particular lesson ended up being part training ride, part therapy session. I told CZ that I wasn't going to try to sway her decision one way or the other. The horse definitely has some unpredictable moments. They are few and far between these days, but they still happen. My theory is that the mare gets so focused on the tricky stuff that she tunes everything out around her. When something finally grabs her attention, it catches her off guard, causing her to spook. I am able to stop her from spooking 99% of the time and can ride it out the other 1%, but CZ just cannot do the same. I told her she had to weigh the pros and cons. I told her only she could decide if the risk of falling off and getting hurt was greater than the joy she gets when a ride goes well. And I do think they're making amazing progress. She could get another, older, quieter horse, but the chances of that horse having the kind of training that Jazz has are slim. Even if the new horse were to be trained spectacularly, it would take a long time to build a relationship with the new mount. CZ would have to re-evaluate her goals. Is it more important for her to just be able to trust and enjoy her horse or is the dressage something she really finds rewarding and wants to concentrate on?
My advice was not to make a decision while the physical pain was still prevalent and the adrenaline was still high.
At the beginning of the lesson, CZ seemed pretty set on getting rid of the horse, but by the end she seemed pretty much torn down the middle. By the time I picked Jazz up the following week, her back had started to heal and she was talking about future rides at the new barn. Only time will tell how this one ends.
As luck would have it, Marissa was out of town on Thursday and Friday and let me borrow her rig to go get the mare. Bryce dropped me off at the train station (over the rickety old bridge) to pick up the truck on Thursday night and Mike came with me on Friday morning to hook the trailer up at the crack of dawn. I made a beeline for north Jersey, covering the 80 mile drive in a reasonable amount of time. I met CZ at the barn and helped her tie up some loose ends before loading up the mare. With the contract and Coggins in the cab, I finished packing the trailer and took Jazz's lead.
Jazz hasn't been on a trailer in years so I was prepared to have loading take a while. I explained my method to CZ, promising not to beat her horse with a broomstick.
"The idea is for her to be comfortable in the trailer. She can get on and off as many times as she needs to in order to get relaxed. I'm not a fan of slamming the ramp up the second the horse puts all four feet in the box."
Jazz obediently dropped her nose and sniffed the whole ramp before putting a foot on. With some encouragement, she put two feet on the ramp. Then she backed off. Then she put two feet all the way in the trailer. Then she backed off. Then she put all four feet on the ramp. Then she backed off. Then she walked halfway in the trailer. Then she backed off. Then she marched right into the trailer and got an apple. Then she backed off. Then she loaded right back on and stood still. I gave her a moment before clipping the tie to her halter.
That was a mistake.
A moment later, Jazz decided she'd really like to back off one more time. I hadn't realized she was in a breakaway halter and she sort of walked right out of it and made her way down the driveway. I was able to catch her right away and she walked right back into the trailer like nothing ever happened. This time, I put the butt bar up before I tied her head.
Oops.
The drive down was uneventful. CZ followed me and I stayed in the middle lane, maintaining a safe following distance and going with the flow. An hour and a half later, we pulled up the driveway at Cattail Farm and I parked the rig. All my horses came up to the fence, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in size order, ears pricked, staring at the new arrival.
Ooh. A trailer. I wonder who she's taking this time. A new horse? I wonder if it's here to stay.
When they realized I wasn't putting anyone with them, they turned in unison and walked away.
I backed Jazz off the trailer and she looked around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in her new surroundings. I took her into the front pasture with the minis and walked her around, showing her the water tubs and the run in shed before turning her loose. Jazz stared longingly at the horses on the far side of the property. It had been four months since she'd had a buddy. When she realized she couldn't get to them, she trotted exactly once around the perimeter of the field before stopping next to us to stare some more. She was being remarkably calm (and boring).
By then, the minis had come out of the shed. I could see that Jazz was puzzled by them, and she kept trying to sneak behind them to get a better look, head craned forward, neck arched dramatically, nostrils flared. She sniffed cautiously, then backed away.
I don't get it. You SMELL like horses, but you're so LITTLE.
Eventually she gave up trying to figure it all out and dropped her head to graze. Soon after, CZ left and I took the trailer back to Marissa's barn, where I successfully backed it into its space. I left the truck at our house while I finished running to the rest of my clients for the day.
The next day, I decided to give Jazz a buddy that was more her size. I took CP, who is friendly to everyone, out to introduce them. Jazz got excited when she saw the pony coming through the gate and trotted over to say hello. They touched noses and she squealed once, in typical mare fashion. They ran around the field a bit, getting to know each other, and have been inseparable since. Jazz follows him around constantly and he adores her. It's actually going to be a bit sad when he leaves in two weeks.
Jazz was very nervous on the cross ties, dancing back and forth and craning her head around while I saddled her. Because of her behavior on the ground, I decided to lunge her before riding so she could get a look at the new-to-her ring. She gawked at my colorful jumps a bit, but seemed to settle down pretty quickly. She stood stock still while I mounted and we went on to have a good, if not terribly impressive ride. We walked, trotted, and cantered, worked on some collection, and threw in some circles. Jazz behaved herself just fine, but she was lathered within a short period of time, despite cool September weather. I suspect she was internalizing all her anxiety. When I got her back to the barn an d bathed her, she was very jumpy, leaping every time the water touched her, and threatening to bolt away from the moving hose. I've seen her get bathed several times so I know this is unlike her.
I suspect that Jazz is not a naturally bold horse. She's gotten comfortable over years of living in the same place, but new things still startle and alarm her. She hasn't been taught how to deal, and I suspect the reason she acts out when she gets caught off guard is because she doesn't know how else to react. The next six weeks should change a lot of that in her. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's creating spook-free horses who know how to think through potentially scary situations. I think addressing those underlying issues will help CZ in her long term struggle with this mare.
I also plan on packing the pounds on her, so there should be a physical difference in her by the time she goes home as well as a mental one.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Kluski Recipe
Since I'm suddenly all about cooking AND my Polish heritage, let's share a recipe for Kluski (a Polish potato dumpling) in a mushroom gravy sauce. Mike and I sort of winged this one last week and I have to say I think it's my favorite recipe of the ones I've made so far. It was delicious. It also re-heated well over angel hair pasta. Om nom nom.
Ingredients
-1 medium sized Spanish onion, diced
-1lb cubed stew beef, cut into smaller chunks
-1 can mushroom gravy
-Captain Morgan Private Stock
-1 package Kluski (or, if you're really talented, you could make them from scratch. I'm not there yet.)
-1 cup (ish) heavy cream
-Salt, pepper... to taste
Let's Make It!
1. In a large pot, boil well-salted water. Throw in Kluski. Boil until they float (less than five minutes). As soon as they float, skim them out and put them aside.
2. In a large pan, sautee onions, using Captain Morgan instead of oil.
3. Once onions reduce, throw in cubed beef. Cook until browned.
4. In a separate pot, mix gravy with heavy cream (to taste). Heat until bubbling slightly around the edges.
5. Pour sauce into pan with meat and onions. Heat on low for about five minutes (to let the flavors soak a bit).
6. Place Kluski in a bowl. Pour sauce over. Dig in!
-1 medium sized Spanish onion, diced
-1lb cubed stew beef, cut into smaller chunks
-1 can mushroom gravy
-Captain Morgan Private Stock
-1 package Kluski (or, if you're really talented, you could make them from scratch. I'm not there yet.)
-1 cup (ish) heavy cream
-Salt, pepper... to taste
Let's Make It!
1. In a large pot, boil well-salted water. Throw in Kluski. Boil until they float (less than five minutes). As soon as they float, skim them out and put them aside.
2. In a large pan, sautee onions, using Captain Morgan instead of oil.
3. Once onions reduce, throw in cubed beef. Cook until browned.
4. In a separate pot, mix gravy with heavy cream (to taste). Heat until bubbling slightly around the edges.
5. Pour sauce into pan with meat and onions. Heat on low for about five minutes (to let the flavors soak a bit).
6. Place Kluski in a bowl. Pour sauce over. Dig in!
Lilly Updates
I'm finally going to talk about Lilly for a bit. Today was the best ride I've had on her, but it was a long road to get there. The last time I blogged about her, I was gushing about how well she was taking to the trails. It seems that I sort of jinxed myself with the whole thing. The next time I took her out didn't go so well.
Each time I rode, I'd been taking the mare a little further. We started off by going around the neighboring soy fields, then across the soy fields and into the woods, then through the woods and to the giant hill overlooking the golf course. My goal for the ride was to take Lilly down the hill and through the creek, then turn around and come home. It didn't quite go that way.
Lilly seemed somewhat baffled by the hill when we first saw it. I'm not 100% sure of her riding history, but I'm starting to think she had no hill experience. Because of the way she was reacting, I dismounted and hand walked her down the steep incline. I'm glad I did because she was having a hard time figuring it out. I don't know if it's because she's gaited or because she's such a big, lumbering horse, but she really had to concentrate to make her way to the bottom of the hill.
Once we got to the bottom, I got back on and rode her down to the creek. After a few moments of looking at the water crossing, Lilly started to balk and run backwards. That in particular didn't bother me, but Lilly has a tendency to threaten to rear when she doesn't want to do something, and I found myself suddenly aware of the fact that I was alone in the woods with a horse I didn't know very well. Mike knew my schedule for the day and my starting address, but nobody really knew where I was. Once again, I dismounted, opting to lead the mare on foot through her first water crossing.
We worked at it steadily for about five minutes. The mare was calm, if stubborn, and we were making slow progress. She sniffed, pawed, and even put a toe in the water. Then, as if a switch had flipped in her head, she suddenly reared and flew backwards, tearing the reins right out of my hands. She trotted just far enough away from the creek bed to feel safe, then dropped her head to munch on some long, particularly inviting grass.
...and we probably would have been fine if she hadn't stepped on her own reins and spooked herself. Before I could grab her, she was gone. I was secretly hoping the hill would slow her fatt bum down, but it did quite the opposite, in fact. The big gray mare took off at a dead gallop, disappearing over the horizon and leaving me to climb the biggest hill in the Amwell Valley on foot.
"I wasn't aware I was paid to hike," I muttered under my breath, along with some other choice words that I won't repeat here.
I pulled my cell phone out of my chaps and called first Jen, then Mike, hoping that one of them would be within ten minutes of the barn. I knew the mare would go home, but my concern was that she would run into the road at the last stretch and get hit by a car whizzing up the blind hill. I groaned at the concept. Unfortunately, neither Mike nor Jen were close enough to help, so I trudged on. Did I mention temps were in the mid nineties that day?
The good news is that, had I fallen and cracked my head, someone would have found me, and pretty quickly. Just as I reached the top of the hill, the owner of PTF (who had just been complimenting how good Lilly was the week before) came across the field on her tractor. She had spotted Lilly making a beeline across the fields and had come to find me.I assured her that I wasn't on the horse when s**t hit the fan and that I was more annoyed than anything else.
"Was that LILLY?" she gaped at me.
"Yeah, it was..."
"She went by so fast that all I saw was this white blur. Like a bullet. She was going at a dead gallop!"
The farm owner offered to drive over to the neighboring properties to check in case Lilly had strayed from the straight line home, and I thanked her for her concern.
It wasn't long before I spotted Lilly grazing peacefully in the grass behind her pasture as if nothing had happened. She was smart enough to stop before she got into the road, and when I approached her she just looked at me as if to say, What took you so long? I made it here in about ten seconds flat. She obliged while I grabbed what was left of her bridle and led her the rest of the way home. She'd lost the bit and the reins out on the trail somewhere and all she had left was a throat latch and an upside down fly bonnet.
I filled Lilly's owner in on our mishap after checking the mare over for injuries. Thankfully there were none. Also thankfully, she didn't seem to put together that this was an effective way to escape the human. It did take some confidence building over our next few rides, but Lilly seemed to put the trauma behind her pretty quickly. We made our way back down the hill and even snuck in a canter on our way home.
Then, today, I had the best ride on her to date. Because her owner has had me working with a few other horses on the property (details on them later) and because hunting season is starting so the trails close at 3pm, Lilly has had a little time off from trail riding. That coupled with the fact that I'm fighting off some kind of flu bug left me concerned when I went out to work with the gray mare today. I needn't have worried.
Lilly, who is getting fuzzy around the edges already, seemed happy to see me. I gave her a carrot as I tied her in the barn aisle, promising to give her more if she didn't fight with me. I saddled her, walked her to the driveway next door, and mounted up.
Poor Booger was having a fit at getting left behind, but Lilly ignored her daughter's frantic whinnies and marched matter-of-factly through the soy fields to PTF. She eyed the spot where the Suprise!Shetland sometimes appears, but didn't seem otherwise bothered by anything. We made our way through the woods down a new-to-us trail and Lilly seemed very happy to be out adventuring again. She kept her giant ears pricked and looked around with a quiet fascination at the scenery around us.
At the bottom of the hill, we came to our first real creek crossing since The Incident. Since then, I've added a mecate rein to our rig and it has proven super effective. After the initial glance, I dismounted and stood calmly in the center of the creek, holding the extra rein coiled in my hand and letting her work through it. There was some balking, but it didn't take long for Lilly to figure out that I had the upper hand this time and was not letting her get away with anything.
Eventually, she took a big step forward and splashed into the water. Suddenly, her entire expression changed. She seemed to realize that water is the coolest thing ever, and she actually enjoyed wandering around in the shallows and exploring.
I took her up the far bank and re-mounted, then rode her through the water, heading toward home. She didn't even look at it. She just went right in. Good mare!
We rode home in harmony and, for the first time since I've been on her, Lilly offered a trot coming up the hill. I was thoroughly impressed since she is Very Gaited and I've never even seen her trot at liberty. I think she's really starting to trust me and I hope to keep riding her through the fall.
So there you have it... set backs don't mean the end of progress (or some other equally cheesy life lesson).
Each time I rode, I'd been taking the mare a little further. We started off by going around the neighboring soy fields, then across the soy fields and into the woods, then through the woods and to the giant hill overlooking the golf course. My goal for the ride was to take Lilly down the hill and through the creek, then turn around and come home. It didn't quite go that way.
Lilly seemed somewhat baffled by the hill when we first saw it. I'm not 100% sure of her riding history, but I'm starting to think she had no hill experience. Because of the way she was reacting, I dismounted and hand walked her down the steep incline. I'm glad I did because she was having a hard time figuring it out. I don't know if it's because she's gaited or because she's such a big, lumbering horse, but she really had to concentrate to make her way to the bottom of the hill.
Once we got to the bottom, I got back on and rode her down to the creek. After a few moments of looking at the water crossing, Lilly started to balk and run backwards. That in particular didn't bother me, but Lilly has a tendency to threaten to rear when she doesn't want to do something, and I found myself suddenly aware of the fact that I was alone in the woods with a horse I didn't know very well. Mike knew my schedule for the day and my starting address, but nobody really knew where I was. Once again, I dismounted, opting to lead the mare on foot through her first water crossing.
We worked at it steadily for about five minutes. The mare was calm, if stubborn, and we were making slow progress. She sniffed, pawed, and even put a toe in the water. Then, as if a switch had flipped in her head, she suddenly reared and flew backwards, tearing the reins right out of my hands. She trotted just far enough away from the creek bed to feel safe, then dropped her head to munch on some long, particularly inviting grass.
...and we probably would have been fine if she hadn't stepped on her own reins and spooked herself. Before I could grab her, she was gone. I was secretly hoping the hill would slow her fatt bum down, but it did quite the opposite, in fact. The big gray mare took off at a dead gallop, disappearing over the horizon and leaving me to climb the biggest hill in the Amwell Valley on foot.
"I wasn't aware I was paid to hike," I muttered under my breath, along with some other choice words that I won't repeat here.
I pulled my cell phone out of my chaps and called first Jen, then Mike, hoping that one of them would be within ten minutes of the barn. I knew the mare would go home, but my concern was that she would run into the road at the last stretch and get hit by a car whizzing up the blind hill. I groaned at the concept. Unfortunately, neither Mike nor Jen were close enough to help, so I trudged on. Did I mention temps were in the mid nineties that day?
The good news is that, had I fallen and cracked my head, someone would have found me, and pretty quickly. Just as I reached the top of the hill, the owner of PTF (who had just been complimenting how good Lilly was the week before) came across the field on her tractor. She had spotted Lilly making a beeline across the fields and had come to find me.I assured her that I wasn't on the horse when s**t hit the fan and that I was more annoyed than anything else.
"Was that LILLY?" she gaped at me.
"Yeah, it was..."
"She went by so fast that all I saw was this white blur. Like a bullet. She was going at a dead gallop!"
The farm owner offered to drive over to the neighboring properties to check in case Lilly had strayed from the straight line home, and I thanked her for her concern.
It wasn't long before I spotted Lilly grazing peacefully in the grass behind her pasture as if nothing had happened. She was smart enough to stop before she got into the road, and when I approached her she just looked at me as if to say, What took you so long? I made it here in about ten seconds flat. She obliged while I grabbed what was left of her bridle and led her the rest of the way home. She'd lost the bit and the reins out on the trail somewhere and all she had left was a throat latch and an upside down fly bonnet.
I filled Lilly's owner in on our mishap after checking the mare over for injuries. Thankfully there were none. Also thankfully, she didn't seem to put together that this was an effective way to escape the human. It did take some confidence building over our next few rides, but Lilly seemed to put the trauma behind her pretty quickly. We made our way back down the hill and even snuck in a canter on our way home.
Lilly, who is getting fuzzy around the edges already, seemed happy to see me. I gave her a carrot as I tied her in the barn aisle, promising to give her more if she didn't fight with me. I saddled her, walked her to the driveway next door, and mounted up.
Poor Booger was having a fit at getting left behind, but Lilly ignored her daughter's frantic whinnies and marched matter-of-factly through the soy fields to PTF. She eyed the spot where the Suprise!Shetland sometimes appears, but didn't seem otherwise bothered by anything. We made our way through the woods down a new-to-us trail and Lilly seemed very happy to be out adventuring again. She kept her giant ears pricked and looked around with a quiet fascination at the scenery around us.
At the bottom of the hill, we came to our first real creek crossing since The Incident. Since then, I've added a mecate rein to our rig and it has proven super effective. After the initial glance, I dismounted and stood calmly in the center of the creek, holding the extra rein coiled in my hand and letting her work through it. There was some balking, but it didn't take long for Lilly to figure out that I had the upper hand this time and was not letting her get away with anything.
Eventually, she took a big step forward and splashed into the water. Suddenly, her entire expression changed. She seemed to realize that water is the coolest thing ever, and she actually enjoyed wandering around in the shallows and exploring.
I took her up the far bank and re-mounted, then rode her through the water, heading toward home. She didn't even look at it. She just went right in. Good mare!
We rode home in harmony and, for the first time since I've been on her, Lilly offered a trot coming up the hill. I was thoroughly impressed since she is Very Gaited and I've never even seen her trot at liberty. I think she's really starting to trust me and I hope to keep riding her through the fall.
So there you have it... set backs don't mean the end of progress (or some other equally cheesy life lesson).
Jazz
I have had ZERO time to blog, but I just wanted to share my biggest news in a teaser fashion. Jazz moved in to Cattail Farm for six weeks.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Herbie Plays Agility
Last weekend I drove down to see Lynn. She moved Pearly to the big fancy barn that backs up to her property and her husband, Ken, built her a trail through the woods so she can ride Pearly to the house whenever she wants. Ken is an animal lover and the two of them dream of retiring, moving to Florida, getting Ken a horse, and spending their golden years trail riding together. Step one is to get Ken riding so Lynn asked me to come give him a riding lesson in the backyard.
On a whim, I brought Herbie. It ended up being the Best Day Ever for my silly white dog.
The lesson went very well. Ken seemed balanced and comfortable and Pearly was, of course, on her very best behavior. Ken spent the whole time trying to get his leg into the correct position (easier said than done, especially in a too-small-for-him dressage saddle). We kept it to a walk, but Ken seemed very happy with it. Afterwards, he declared that he'd had fun.
From there, Pearly had to get back to the barn. Lynn invited me to come along. Unfortunately, there has been some drama with the neighbor behind them, who claims that 'traffic' on the trail has been spooking her horses. The neighbor now insists that nobody but Lynn and Pearly is allowed on the trail (this includes Lynn's husband and daughter). We didn't want to cause ruckus by bringing Herbie and attracting attention to ourselves.
Ken, who had been playing a tireless game of fetch with Herbie, offered to go around the long way through the nurseries and take Herbie with him. He seemed very excited about getting to take the dog for a walk so I agreed. I handed him the leash and Herbie didn't even glance over her shoulder at me. She was more than happy to wander off with her new Best Man Friend.
When we met back up at the barn, I had to practically pry the leash away from Ken to get my dog back. Herbie had minded her manners and they'd had a very nice walk.
After asking permission, I let Herbie off the leash. Before long, she'd befriended all the farm dogs. It was nice to get her together with well-socialized dogs who are allowed to interact normally with each other and run around off leash; dogs who get enough exercise and are actually trained instead of restrained. Herbie was especially enamored with two large yellow labs whose owner was initially worried that her boys would overwhelm my smaller dog. I assured her that Herbie could benefit from getting overwhelmed once in a while, but it ended up being a non-issue. The three of them chased each other around the lawn in front of the barn while the fierce little Jack Russel who rules the place watched from the sidelines. Herbie was, thankfully, smart enough to leave him alone.
But Herbie's day was far from over. After another fulfilling walk through the nurseries (with me this time), we went over to Lynn's neighbor's house. Faith is very into agility and has a handsome doberman named Twitch who, at 15 months old, is already very good at it. Faith has an agility course set up in her backyard and had told Lynn that I was welcome to bring Herbie over any time to try it. We decided to take her up on the offer.
No laughing at me. I don't know the first thing about agility and Herbie has never done anything of the sort before. We were kind of flying by the seat of our pants and having a good time.
With that said, Herbie actually did very well. She conquered the dog walk in about two seconds flat. With the use of a cookie I was able to get her to sit quietly at both the beginning and end of the walk.
Next, we tried the tunnel. Herbie went right in, but didn't seem to understand that she had to go through, even with one of us standing on either end to guide her. Eventually, I tossed her leash (which I'd been using as a tug to get her all riled up) into the tunnel. She zipped right through, but didn't grab the leash along the way. So guess who had to crawl through the tunnel to retrieve it. That's right. Yours truly. -_-
We also played with the teeter totter. Herbie walked right on, as expected. When she got past the halfway point, I just told her to wait. It swung over and Herbie just kept looking at me for approval. No fear whatsoever. I told her 'ok' and she walked the rest of the way across. We went back and forth a few times and she didn't care at all. That was easy, she says.
The only thing we really had an issue with was the jumps, and that's my fault. Don't get me wrong, she jumped right over them, but her form was somewhat lacking. You see, I've had her jumping big, solid cross country horse jumps since she was a puppy, so Herbie thinks the answer is to jump up onto the obstacle, then push off with her back feet to jump onto the other side. As you can imagine, that didn't go well.
She did, however, jump right through the hoop and even did the weave poles, albeit slowly.
When Faith heard how well Herbie had done on her first ever attempt (and with such a bumbling idiot for a handler) she said I should definitely get into it with her. I'm sure she'd love it, but I'm way too busy and poor to make that kind of commitment. I should find someone who does agility and is in between dogs to do it with her. Haha.
Once she was significantly tired out, Herbie got to relax on the screened-in porch with Ken, who spoiled her with a turkey dog and lots of ear scratches. It had been a good day. Needless to say, Herbie slept like a rock that night.
On a whim, I brought Herbie. It ended up being the Best Day Ever for my silly white dog.
From there, Pearly had to get back to the barn. Lynn invited me to come along. Unfortunately, there has been some drama with the neighbor behind them, who claims that 'traffic' on the trail has been spooking her horses. The neighbor now insists that nobody but Lynn and Pearly is allowed on the trail (this includes Lynn's husband and daughter). We didn't want to cause ruckus by bringing Herbie and attracting attention to ourselves.
Ken, who had been playing a tireless game of fetch with Herbie, offered to go around the long way through the nurseries and take Herbie with him. He seemed very excited about getting to take the dog for a walk so I agreed. I handed him the leash and Herbie didn't even glance over her shoulder at me. She was more than happy to wander off with her new Best Man Friend.
When we met back up at the barn, I had to practically pry the leash away from Ken to get my dog back. Herbie had minded her manners and they'd had a very nice walk.
After asking permission, I let Herbie off the leash. Before long, she'd befriended all the farm dogs. It was nice to get her together with well-socialized dogs who are allowed to interact normally with each other and run around off leash; dogs who get enough exercise and are actually trained instead of restrained. Herbie was especially enamored with two large yellow labs whose owner was initially worried that her boys would overwhelm my smaller dog. I assured her that Herbie could benefit from getting overwhelmed once in a while, but it ended up being a non-issue. The three of them chased each other around the lawn in front of the barn while the fierce little Jack Russel who rules the place watched from the sidelines. Herbie was, thankfully, smart enough to leave him alone.
But Herbie's day was far from over. After another fulfilling walk through the nurseries (with me this time), we went over to Lynn's neighbor's house. Faith is very into agility and has a handsome doberman named Twitch who, at 15 months old, is already very good at it. Faith has an agility course set up in her backyard and had told Lynn that I was welcome to bring Herbie over any time to try it. We decided to take her up on the offer.
No laughing at me. I don't know the first thing about agility and Herbie has never done anything of the sort before. We were kind of flying by the seat of our pants and having a good time.
With that said, Herbie actually did very well. She conquered the dog walk in about two seconds flat. With the use of a cookie I was able to get her to sit quietly at both the beginning and end of the walk.
Next, we tried the tunnel. Herbie went right in, but didn't seem to understand that she had to go through, even with one of us standing on either end to guide her. Eventually, I tossed her leash (which I'd been using as a tug to get her all riled up) into the tunnel. She zipped right through, but didn't grab the leash along the way. So guess who had to crawl through the tunnel to retrieve it. That's right. Yours truly. -_-
We also played with the teeter totter. Herbie walked right on, as expected. When she got past the halfway point, I just told her to wait. It swung over and Herbie just kept looking at me for approval. No fear whatsoever. I told her 'ok' and she walked the rest of the way across. We went back and forth a few times and she didn't care at all. That was easy, she says.
The only thing we really had an issue with was the jumps, and that's my fault. Don't get me wrong, she jumped right over them, but her form was somewhat lacking. You see, I've had her jumping big, solid cross country horse jumps since she was a puppy, so Herbie thinks the answer is to jump up onto the obstacle, then push off with her back feet to jump onto the other side. As you can imagine, that didn't go well.
She did, however, jump right through the hoop and even did the weave poles, albeit slowly.
When Faith heard how well Herbie had done on her first ever attempt (and with such a bumbling idiot for a handler) she said I should definitely get into it with her. I'm sure she'd love it, but I'm way too busy and poor to make that kind of commitment. I should find someone who does agility and is in between dogs to do it with her. Haha.
Once she was significantly tired out, Herbie got to relax on the screened-in porch with Ken, who spoiled her with a turkey dog and lots of ear scratches. It had been a good day. Needless to say, Herbie slept like a rock that night.
Dallas the Brave
On Tuesday I went over to M's and we took Dallas and Clarence out on the trails. She still wasn't quite ready to get on the thoroughbred herself so she rode Clarence while I took Dallas. Dallas blew me away with his performance that day.
This time, the weather cooperated and we enjoyed clear blue skies and cool temps. We started off with our usual loop. Before I knew it, Dallas had power-walked into the lead. We weren't even to the trail head yet, but he marched bravely along, unafraid of traffic, road signs, or things blowing in the roadside ditch. By the time we reached the air strip, he was on a mission.
We did a lot more trotting on this last outing and reached the creek crossing in no time. After taking a cautious look at the water, Dallas took a deep breath and splashed right through, still in the lead! This time, instead of turning around, we decided to go all the way around the soy field on the other side. Dallas had never been that far, but he didn't seem to mind in the least. He trotted bravely forward, taking in the new surroundings with an air of intrigue.
We even cantered! It took just the slightest urging for Dallas to pick up the gait. I laughed to myself at his Pepe Le Pew stride, then sat back and enjoyed. Dallas had his ears pricked and just bounced along, happy as a clam. When he lost confidence, he simply slowed back to a trot. There was no pulling, no racing, and no drama. A squeeze of my hands and he stopped. Talk about excellent brakes! We trotted and cantered past fallen trees, scary ditches, and dark spots on the ground. Dallas cocked an ear, but that was about it.
Since the ride was going so well, M and I went exploring, weaving our way across fields and through groves of trees that neither one of us had ridden in before. Dallas stayed in the lead. I guess he never got the memo about horses being afraid of new places.
The ride was perfect and I was thrilled that I got to trail ride at least once during the week. The trails are only open to horses from 10am-2pm because hunting season is under way, and my schedule means that a lot of my trail horses in training are doing some ring work in the upcoming weeks. I'm all about laughing in the face of danger, but I'm not a fan of being shot.
Next week, the plan is for M to ride Dallas and follow me and Clarence around the trails. The following week, I'd like her to take him in the lead. Once she rides him a few times out there, I think they'll really learn to trust each other... and then she won't need me any more :(
We did a lot more trotting on this last outing and reached the creek crossing in no time. After taking a cautious look at the water, Dallas took a deep breath and splashed right through, still in the lead! This time, instead of turning around, we decided to go all the way around the soy field on the other side. Dallas had never been that far, but he didn't seem to mind in the least. He trotted bravely forward, taking in the new surroundings with an air of intrigue.
We even cantered! It took just the slightest urging for Dallas to pick up the gait. I laughed to myself at his Pepe Le Pew stride, then sat back and enjoyed. Dallas had his ears pricked and just bounced along, happy as a clam. When he lost confidence, he simply slowed back to a trot. There was no pulling, no racing, and no drama. A squeeze of my hands and he stopped. Talk about excellent brakes! We trotted and cantered past fallen trees, scary ditches, and dark spots on the ground. Dallas cocked an ear, but that was about it.
The ride was perfect and I was thrilled that I got to trail ride at least once during the week. The trails are only open to horses from 10am-2pm because hunting season is under way, and my schedule means that a lot of my trail horses in training are doing some ring work in the upcoming weeks. I'm all about laughing in the face of danger, but I'm not a fan of being shot.
Next week, the plan is for M to ride Dallas and follow me and Clarence around the trails. The following week, I'd like her to take him in the lead. Once she rides him a few times out there, I think they'll really learn to trust each other... and then she won't need me any more :(
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Puppy Photos
The Sato puppies are still at Carolyn's. They all have names now. The big, shaggy one is Erica. The brown one is Leola. The two really lab-looking ones are Maria and Juanita. The little black female is Coqui and the boy is Tamboo. Maria actually found a home already, which is great. Juanita is my favorite of the remaining ones. They're starting to get big and fast. Herbie is very patient with them and I just want to take them all home and stick them in my bed. Have some new photos of the cutie pies.
Book Review: Hoofprints by Laura Crum
Following my insta-love of Cutter by Laura Crum, I dove right into her second book, Hoofprints.
"In this second installment in the Gail McCarthy series, the young vet stumbles upon two murdered bodies in the course of a routine call. When a midnight emergency turns into an attempt on her life, Gail knows she must uncover the motive before its too late. Plenty of authentic horse lore and an action packed plot from an author who spent most of her life training cowhorses and knows whereof she speaks."
"In this second installment in the Gail McCarthy series, the young vet stumbles upon two murdered bodies in the course of a routine call. When a midnight emergency turns into an attempt on her life, Gail knows she must uncover the motive before its too late. Plenty of authentic horse lore and an action packed plot from an author who spent most of her life training cowhorses and knows whereof she speaks."
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Dallas the Trail Horse
Man, when I have a breakthrough, I really have a breakthrough! It's like Clarence told Dallas about all the awesome things you get to do if you behave, and the once-nutty thoroughbred decided he wants to be included too.
Last week, M and I decided to take Dallas for his first trail riding experience. She saddled Blue and I rode the now-trusty Clarence and ponied Dallas off of him. Clarence looked adorable in his big western saddle, but seemed somewhat dismayed at the fact that we were bringing his 'annoying younger brother' along.
Are you serious? This is the one time I get to have my own time and you're bringing HIM along??
I was thrilled with the fact that Clarence is now so steady and reliable that I can pony a greener horse off of him without worrying about our safety. It's like he's been doing it his whole life.
The first stretch of the ride is down the driveway and up the street to the trail head. I ponied Dallas on my right. The idea was to let him get a look at all the scary things on the side of the road while using Clarence as a body block of sorts. This way, he would learn that spooking out into the road is not a possibility. It would also keep him away from traffic for a while. Dallas looked at everything with interest and his eyes bugged out a few times, but for the most part he was pleasant and quiet and surprisingly relaxed.
We got to the air park and rode across the open fields to the landing strip. Along the way, we passed a man on a tractor who was mowing long stretches of grass. He looked amused by the third horse trailing along side and I decided to get out of sight before moving on to the next part of my plan.
We got to the top of the hill and I announced, "And now, if you don't have any reservations about it, I'm going to let your horse go."
M's eyes widened, but she nodded. I unhooked Dallas's lead rope, coiling it around my saddle horn, and let him go. I think M was expecting some sort of Trainer Trick and was expecting Dallas to magically stay with us. Of course, in his horsey brain, I had just turned him out in a new pasture, and as a thoroughbred, the only correct response is to gallop off to explore. He took off and M's eyes widened even further. Still, she stayed quiet.
"I promise he'll come back," I tried to hide my grin. I love watching people exposed to this method of ponying for the first time. "He'll reach the end of his comfort zone, realize the rest of the herd isn't with him, and he'll come back."
As I was saying it, Dallas glanced over his shoulder as if to say, Isn't this awesome, guys? All this space to... guys? OMG!!! GUYS!!! He whirled around and charged back to us faster than he had left. M looked visibly relieved.
And so it went. Dallas would gallop ahead and gallop back. As far as he was concerned, the herd was on the move and this was his new home.
"He's not brave enough to go through the woods by himself," I reassured M. And I was right. Dallas would reach the end of the field and double back every time. When we finally reached the woods, he ducked between Clarence and Blue and sort of tip toed down the trail with his head low and his ears locked in upright position.
When we came out the other side, he took off again, but this time his attitude was different. He seemed fascinated by all the new surroundings and he was exploring everything with an air of excitement and intrigue. He trotted back and forth, not straying far from the other horses, but leaving the trail to check out new things.
Guys! Look! A butterfly! Guys! Look! All this grass to eat! Guys! There's water in the trees over here. It's the weirdest thing! Guys! Look!
Clarence seemed completely unamused. Blue was glaring at me as if to say, This is the stupidest trail ride I've ever been on.
M finally relaxed and I asked her, "So, when you first met me, if I had told you I was going to chase your horse around with a plastic bag then let him loose in the woods, what would you have said?"
"I never would have hired you."
"And that's why I don't tell people about my methods until I work with them. How long have you been in horses?"
"15 years."
"And how many times have you let a horse loose on the trail?"
"I've never done it and I've never seen anyone else do it either."
"Thank you for having a little faith," I laughed.
"Well, I've seen your method work. What am I going to do? Argue with you? You're the expert!!"
Meanwhile, we had reached the creek. We had gotten a lot of rain during the week and the water was about knee deep on the horses. Dallas, who had been leading up until that point, balked and ducked back in behind Clarence. Quietly and calmly, I rode across the creek. Dallas danced from foot to foot and snorted in alarm, backing up the bank.
"What do I do?" M asked.
"Just ride Blue across the creek and wait with me. He'll figure it out."
M pushed past Dallas and joined me on the far side. Dallas was panicking. Crossing the water was not an option. It just wasn't possible. There had to be another way! He whirled around and took off at a dead run. This time he disappeared from view entirely. I could see M's white knuckle grip on the reins, but she still didn't say anything.
"He'll come back. He's not brave enough to go through the woods, remember? He just wants to make sure there's no other way to get back to the herd."
As if on cue, we heard Dallas's frantic neigh and the thunder of pounding hooves. He reappeared over the hill and slid to a stop at the edge of the creek, sending stones flying into the now-murky water.
I couldn't find a way across! Hold on... let me try again...
And he was gone again.
"Aren't you glad you're not on him?" I asked M.
"Do you think he'd do that if I was?"
"Well, no. I don't think he'd bolt like that because you'd stop him. But what would he do instead? He might buck or rear or shy backwards. You might end up on the ground and then he'd wind up loose anyway. This way he gets to figure it out and you get to work on your tan. I'm all about doing things in the easiest, least stressful way possible."
"I like that philosophy."
Moments later, Dallas reappeared. He finally seemed convinced that the creek crossing was the only way to get back to his friends. I could see him take a deep breath. Then he trotted right through the creek, touched his nose to Clarence's haunches, and breathed a sigh of relief. Having already forgotten about his ordeal, he trotted ahead of us to the next field.
"Nope," I told him. "We're going back now." And I rode right back through the creek, knowing that Dallas wouldn't stray from the herd heading away from home.
Sure enough, he splashed right back through the creek and we continued our ride.
As we neared the end of the field, before crossing through the woods, I told M, "Now I'm going to catch your horse."
"Ok..." she sounded skeptical.
"Furthermore, I'm going to do it without chasing him and without getting off of Clarence."
"Ok..." I could see the doubt in her eyes. Dallas was still running around, exploring, and for the most part ignoring us.
I explained the plan, then put it into action. Every time Dallas passed us, M and I did a u-turn and started riding away from him. He'd realize the herd was leaving and trot to catch up to us. As he passed, we'd 'change our minds' and turn back in the original direction. After four or five passes, Dallas looked confused and came up to me.
I'm confused. Where are we going?
"Here, let me put this lead rope on you and show you." And I snagged him.
M laughed and simply said, "Wow."
We rode back to the farm peacefully. This time I ponied Dallas on the left so that he had to look at traffic. He saw bicycles (including one with a little up-hill-helper motor on it), cars, and a landscaping truck hauling a trailer full of lawn mowers. He didn't seem to care one bit.
But perhaps the funniest thing about the experience was turning the boys back out. We let them loose in their field and Dallas glued himself to Clarence.
Hey, did you know we can walk reallyclosetogether? I can touch you! We're like a school of fish. Blub blub blub.
Clarence, who is really too nice to beat up another horse just flattened his ears and looked miserable. I really hate you right now.
M told her boyfriend about the whole adventure when he got home that night.
"The funniest thing happened today. We took the horses for a trail ride and brought Dallas with us. We got to the field and Dom let him go."
"What do you mean 'let him go'?"
"She unhooked his rope and turned him loose in the woods."
"WHAT!?! Where is he now???"
"In his paddock. She let him explore and then made him come back like a big dog."
"No she didn't. Dallas??? You're lying..."
And yesterday was the big test. M saddled both horses. She rode Clarence and I took Dallas for his first honest-to-goodness trail ride. While I waited for M to get mounted, Dallas tugged impatiently at the bit and I let him walk up and down the driveway. He seemed eager to go, but wasn't being rude about it.
We wandered up the street and Dallas casually looked at some things on the shoulder, but didn't break out of a steady walk. We passed some cars and a bicycle and he didn't bat an eye. We crossed the scary white pavement at the air park and he barely flicked an ear. We walked up the hill and crossed the landing strip. By then Dallas had taken the lead. His ears were pricked and I was riding him on a mostly loose rein. He seemed to be enjoying his day out on the trails, with the wide-eyed wonder of a little kid.
The creek crossing also turned out to be no big deal. He stopped to sniff the water and I had to hold him back to keep him from trotting across. He whinnied once, anxious to be with his buddy, then walked calmly through the deep water to join Clarence on the far side.
Unfortunately, our trail ride had to end there. As we crossed into the soy field across the way, I could see dark storm clouds rolling over the horizon. Weather moves fast across the valley and I knew we'd have a hard time beating the rain home. We picked up a trot on our way back across the fields and Dallas was perfect. He trotted calmly along, perfectly happy to lead or be left behind. His brakes were perfect and he was a steady-eddy trail horse all the way through the woods and back through the air park.
And that's when we saw the rain coming in waves across the corn fields. It was pouring sideways and coming straight at us. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder made the ground beneath us rumble. It looked very cool and I found myself wishing for my helmet cam. Moments later, we were soaked to the bone. No, really, I had to wring my chaps out when I got home.
Then it started to hail. Dallas, the poor sensitive thoroughbred, couldn't understand why he was suddenly being beat up from every direction. I felt all his muscles tense and decided not to tie a bad experience with a rider on his back. Quietly, I slid to the ground and pulled the reins over his head, and we hand-walked the horses all the way home. The wind was howling, the rain was pouring down, the hail was coming in waves, and the sky was breaking in half, but Dallas just plodded quietly behind me, keeping in the shoulder and ducking his head away from the worst of the elements.
"Can't say I've ever gotten hailed on while riding before," I shouted back to M.
"No... I don't think I've ever ridden in a storm. This is quite an adventure!" she called back.
"So, I don't make guarantees, but I think Dallas will be just fine as a trail horse."
"Yeah, I can't believe how good he's being!"
"I don't think I'll get to call him the crazy thoroughbred any more..."
"No, I'd say he's earned his keep."
So there you have it... two horses who were thisclose to being rehomed for their wild antics are going to make one hell of a pair of trail horses. I told M she'll have to write a testimonial for my site.
Last week, M and I decided to take Dallas for his first trail riding experience. She saddled Blue and I rode the now-trusty Clarence and ponied Dallas off of him. Clarence looked adorable in his big western saddle, but seemed somewhat dismayed at the fact that we were bringing his 'annoying younger brother' along.
Are you serious? This is the one time I get to have my own time and you're bringing HIM along??
I was thrilled with the fact that Clarence is now so steady and reliable that I can pony a greener horse off of him without worrying about our safety. It's like he's been doing it his whole life.
The first stretch of the ride is down the driveway and up the street to the trail head. I ponied Dallas on my right. The idea was to let him get a look at all the scary things on the side of the road while using Clarence as a body block of sorts. This way, he would learn that spooking out into the road is not a possibility. It would also keep him away from traffic for a while. Dallas looked at everything with interest and his eyes bugged out a few times, but for the most part he was pleasant and quiet and surprisingly relaxed.
We got to the air park and rode across the open fields to the landing strip. Along the way, we passed a man on a tractor who was mowing long stretches of grass. He looked amused by the third horse trailing along side and I decided to get out of sight before moving on to the next part of my plan.
We got to the top of the hill and I announced, "And now, if you don't have any reservations about it, I'm going to let your horse go."
M's eyes widened, but she nodded. I unhooked Dallas's lead rope, coiling it around my saddle horn, and let him go. I think M was expecting some sort of Trainer Trick and was expecting Dallas to magically stay with us. Of course, in his horsey brain, I had just turned him out in a new pasture, and as a thoroughbred, the only correct response is to gallop off to explore. He took off and M's eyes widened even further. Still, she stayed quiet.
"I promise he'll come back," I tried to hide my grin. I love watching people exposed to this method of ponying for the first time. "He'll reach the end of his comfort zone, realize the rest of the herd isn't with him, and he'll come back."
As I was saying it, Dallas glanced over his shoulder as if to say, Isn't this awesome, guys? All this space to... guys? OMG!!! GUYS!!! He whirled around and charged back to us faster than he had left. M looked visibly relieved.
And so it went. Dallas would gallop ahead and gallop back. As far as he was concerned, the herd was on the move and this was his new home.
"He's not brave enough to go through the woods by himself," I reassured M. And I was right. Dallas would reach the end of the field and double back every time. When we finally reached the woods, he ducked between Clarence and Blue and sort of tip toed down the trail with his head low and his ears locked in upright position.
When we came out the other side, he took off again, but this time his attitude was different. He seemed fascinated by all the new surroundings and he was exploring everything with an air of excitement and intrigue. He trotted back and forth, not straying far from the other horses, but leaving the trail to check out new things.
Guys! Look! A butterfly! Guys! Look! All this grass to eat! Guys! There's water in the trees over here. It's the weirdest thing! Guys! Look!
Clarence seemed completely unamused. Blue was glaring at me as if to say, This is the stupidest trail ride I've ever been on.
M finally relaxed and I asked her, "So, when you first met me, if I had told you I was going to chase your horse around with a plastic bag then let him loose in the woods, what would you have said?"
"I never would have hired you."
"And that's why I don't tell people about my methods until I work with them. How long have you been in horses?"
"15 years."
"And how many times have you let a horse loose on the trail?"
"I've never done it and I've never seen anyone else do it either."
"Thank you for having a little faith," I laughed.
"Well, I've seen your method work. What am I going to do? Argue with you? You're the expert!!"
Meanwhile, we had reached the creek. We had gotten a lot of rain during the week and the water was about knee deep on the horses. Dallas, who had been leading up until that point, balked and ducked back in behind Clarence. Quietly and calmly, I rode across the creek. Dallas danced from foot to foot and snorted in alarm, backing up the bank.
"What do I do?" M asked.
"Just ride Blue across the creek and wait with me. He'll figure it out."
M pushed past Dallas and joined me on the far side. Dallas was panicking. Crossing the water was not an option. It just wasn't possible. There had to be another way! He whirled around and took off at a dead run. This time he disappeared from view entirely. I could see M's white knuckle grip on the reins, but she still didn't say anything.
"He'll come back. He's not brave enough to go through the woods, remember? He just wants to make sure there's no other way to get back to the herd."
As if on cue, we heard Dallas's frantic neigh and the thunder of pounding hooves. He reappeared over the hill and slid to a stop at the edge of the creek, sending stones flying into the now-murky water.
I couldn't find a way across! Hold on... let me try again...
And he was gone again.
"Aren't you glad you're not on him?" I asked M.
"Do you think he'd do that if I was?"
"Well, no. I don't think he'd bolt like that because you'd stop him. But what would he do instead? He might buck or rear or shy backwards. You might end up on the ground and then he'd wind up loose anyway. This way he gets to figure it out and you get to work on your tan. I'm all about doing things in the easiest, least stressful way possible."
"I like that philosophy."
Moments later, Dallas reappeared. He finally seemed convinced that the creek crossing was the only way to get back to his friends. I could see him take a deep breath. Then he trotted right through the creek, touched his nose to Clarence's haunches, and breathed a sigh of relief. Having already forgotten about his ordeal, he trotted ahead of us to the next field.
"Nope," I told him. "We're going back now." And I rode right back through the creek, knowing that Dallas wouldn't stray from the herd heading away from home.
Sure enough, he splashed right back through the creek and we continued our ride.
As we neared the end of the field, before crossing through the woods, I told M, "Now I'm going to catch your horse."
"Ok..." she sounded skeptical.
"Furthermore, I'm going to do it without chasing him and without getting off of Clarence."
"Ok..." I could see the doubt in her eyes. Dallas was still running around, exploring, and for the most part ignoring us.
I explained the plan, then put it into action. Every time Dallas passed us, M and I did a u-turn and started riding away from him. He'd realize the herd was leaving and trot to catch up to us. As he passed, we'd 'change our minds' and turn back in the original direction. After four or five passes, Dallas looked confused and came up to me.
I'm confused. Where are we going?
"Here, let me put this lead rope on you and show you." And I snagged him.
M laughed and simply said, "Wow."
We rode back to the farm peacefully. This time I ponied Dallas on the left so that he had to look at traffic. He saw bicycles (including one with a little up-hill-helper motor on it), cars, and a landscaping truck hauling a trailer full of lawn mowers. He didn't seem to care one bit.
But perhaps the funniest thing about the experience was turning the boys back out. We let them loose in their field and Dallas glued himself to Clarence.
Hey, did you know we can walk reallyclosetogether? I can touch you! We're like a school of fish. Blub blub blub.
Clarence, who is really too nice to beat up another horse just flattened his ears and looked miserable. I really hate you right now.
M told her boyfriend about the whole adventure when he got home that night.
"The funniest thing happened today. We took the horses for a trail ride and brought Dallas with us. We got to the field and Dom let him go."
"What do you mean 'let him go'?"
"She unhooked his rope and turned him loose in the woods."
"WHAT!?! Where is he now???"
"In his paddock. She let him explore and then made him come back like a big dog."
"No she didn't. Dallas??? You're lying..."
And yesterday was the big test. M saddled both horses. She rode Clarence and I took Dallas for his first honest-to-goodness trail ride. While I waited for M to get mounted, Dallas tugged impatiently at the bit and I let him walk up and down the driveway. He seemed eager to go, but wasn't being rude about it.
We wandered up the street and Dallas casually looked at some things on the shoulder, but didn't break out of a steady walk. We passed some cars and a bicycle and he didn't bat an eye. We crossed the scary white pavement at the air park and he barely flicked an ear. We walked up the hill and crossed the landing strip. By then Dallas had taken the lead. His ears were pricked and I was riding him on a mostly loose rein. He seemed to be enjoying his day out on the trails, with the wide-eyed wonder of a little kid.
The creek crossing also turned out to be no big deal. He stopped to sniff the water and I had to hold him back to keep him from trotting across. He whinnied once, anxious to be with his buddy, then walked calmly through the deep water to join Clarence on the far side.
Unfortunately, our trail ride had to end there. As we crossed into the soy field across the way, I could see dark storm clouds rolling over the horizon. Weather moves fast across the valley and I knew we'd have a hard time beating the rain home. We picked up a trot on our way back across the fields and Dallas was perfect. He trotted calmly along, perfectly happy to lead or be left behind. His brakes were perfect and he was a steady-eddy trail horse all the way through the woods and back through the air park.
And that's when we saw the rain coming in waves across the corn fields. It was pouring sideways and coming straight at us. Lightning streaked across the sky and thunder made the ground beneath us rumble. It looked very cool and I found myself wishing for my helmet cam. Moments later, we were soaked to the bone. No, really, I had to wring my chaps out when I got home.
Then it started to hail. Dallas, the poor sensitive thoroughbred, couldn't understand why he was suddenly being beat up from every direction. I felt all his muscles tense and decided not to tie a bad experience with a rider on his back. Quietly, I slid to the ground and pulled the reins over his head, and we hand-walked the horses all the way home. The wind was howling, the rain was pouring down, the hail was coming in waves, and the sky was breaking in half, but Dallas just plodded quietly behind me, keeping in the shoulder and ducking his head away from the worst of the elements.
"Can't say I've ever gotten hailed on while riding before," I shouted back to M.
"No... I don't think I've ever ridden in a storm. This is quite an adventure!" she called back.
"So, I don't make guarantees, but I think Dallas will be just fine as a trail horse."
"Yeah, I can't believe how good he's being!"
"I don't think I'll get to call him the crazy thoroughbred any more..."
"No, I'd say he's earned his keep."
So there you have it... two horses who were thisclose to being rehomed for their wild antics are going to make one hell of a pair of trail horses. I told M she'll have to write a testimonial for my site.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Dressage Championships
Thursday was the TND championships at DVHA. It did not go nearly as well as CP's first two shows, but I keep reminding myself that I'm not allowed to complain. The fact that this pony went from bucking bronco to show-worthy in less than six months is impressive. The fact that he kept all four feet on the ground even on a bad, bad day is great. I am not allowed to bitch about the results in his third ever show, period. Still, it bothers me because I know that he's better than that and I know that WE are capable of more (and our past results show that). I feel pretty confident in saying that, had we ridden like we ride at home or like we've ridden in the last two shows (or even if we'd ridden like we did in warm up), we would have won the whole shebang. That is not what happened though.
My goals for championships were as follows:
1. No bucking or falling off.
2. Break 60% in all three tests
3. Pick up the correct lead both ways at the canter and hold it
4. Come back down out of the canter without a tug-of-war
I reminded Erin that I was not allowed to rant or complain if the tests were less than perfect. No micromanaging the pony and no taking the show too seriously.
At the last show, I gave CP a half hour warm up. It proved to be much too long, even for just two tests. For the championships, I was riding all three Intro tests and I knew we needed a shorter warm-up. I decided to aim for a ten minute walk-trot warm up before knocking out A and B. Then I'd school the canter a bit before entering the show ring for test C. It seemed like a pretty solid plan.Turns out I was stuck in what I call the Goldilocks Principle. Half an hour was too much. Ten minutes was too little. We still haven't found just right.
Erin came with me to be my show mommy, reader, and photographer. My ride times were in the middle of the afternoon, making it impossible for anyone else in the CP Fan Club to make it. We got the pony cleaned up and loaded quickly and easily. Erin even had time to braid him, which was a nice finishing touch.
We got to the show grounds, parking behind the fancy German couple with the 'young horse' who I'm pretty sure was born doing third level. I unloaded the pony, signed into the office, and got into my show gear. The show secretary commented on the fact that I was cutting it close to my ride time, but I assured her I was keeping an eye on the clock. I had bought new tall boots and a belt leading up to the show and everything fit well and matched nicely. Woo!
I hopped on CP 15 minutes before our ride time and made my way casually to the warm up ring. CP was familiar with the routine by then and didn't put a foot out of line. The showgrounds crew had moved some standards around so he did ogle at those a bit when we first got to the warm up, but otherwise he was being very good. Our halts were in place and his trot was soft and relaxed. I felt confident going into the show ring for test A. Maybe too confident...
It was only as we entered the dressage arena that I realized they had put up all sorts of fancy flowers by the letters surrounding the ring. They were very pretty, but they were also new! and exciting! After the initial gawking, CP was not spooked by the flowers. He was, however, intrigued by them, and spent the entire test staring over the rail at them. He kept his feet right where they needed to be, but I had to keep correcting his bend and he was definitely not soft and on the bit. I grimaced, knowing the test had not gone as well as usual. Still, we halted squarely at the end, thanked the judge, and rode away with lots of praise aimed at the pony.
In between tests, I spotted my trailer loading 'buddy' from last time. She was riding a skinny, dark bay horse and they both looked super crabby. Her friends were hanging out by the fence, making nasty remarks until they figured out that Erin was with me. Wonderful.
By the second test, CP was completely over the flowers. However, he also seemed to be completely over the whole showing thing. I'm pretty sure he 'knew' that this was the last test and he was almost done with 'this silly flatwork business' for the day. We entered the ring braced through the neck and above the bit. He continued to fight with me through all our transitions and his idea of relaxing at the free walk was to shake his head in annoyance at his fancy new braids. At one point, he actually started to slow out of the trot and I had to BOOT him to keep him from breaking into a walk. I found out after the fact that he'd been taking a poo... which did make it slightly less frustrating and slightly more funny. I will say that our circles were nice and round for a change (hooray geometry!) and he did give me some nice moments at the medium walk.
Still not thrilled with our performance, I exited the ring and went back to the warm up, putting it behind me and focusing on our upcoming canter. As luck would have it, CP gave me the PERFECT canter the first time I asked. I actually cursed to myself, "Dammit. Should have saved it for the test!" Still, he was being cooperative and even relaxing a bit now that nobody was watching (I wonder how much of that was me).
I entered the ring one last time with a definite 'let's get this over with' attitude. CP seemed happier now that we'd gotten a chance to canter and had mixed the routine up a bit, and I found myself thinking it was time to move him up before he died of boredom. As we came down the center line, I noticed my buddy's cheering squad stalking up the grassy hill behind the ring. I can't prove it, of course, but I suspect they were trying to get a rise out of me and spook my pony. Sadly for them, CP is not a spooky horse and completely ignored both them and the tractor baling hay in the next field over. As for me, their eyes locked on my performance just made me that much more determined to ride well.
The last test went fairly well. CP was finally starting to relax at the trot, although he still wasn't as soft and submissive as I've seen him at home. He took ANOTHER poo break, which made me want to whack him a little. As for the canter, the thing that I was stressing over all day, I needn't have worried. CP picked up both leads the second I asked, maintained a steady if somewhat-quick gait all the way around his circles, and slowed back down at the mere thought of 'trot'. I finally smiled.
And then I made an error.
In Intro.
With a reader.
*facedesk*
I had read the test over before the show and thought I had it memorized. Unfortunately, I sort of tuned out when I got to the part about coming down the center line, figuring, "Yeah, yeah... x, halt salute." Turns out it's not x at all. Instead, it's G... a letter I didn't even know existed, so to speak! So when Erin read, "G, halt salute," I sort of did a double take. I knew Erin hadn't said X, but I didn't know what she HAD said. E and C didn't make sense... so what was left? I halted at X anyway, hoping that it would be close enough. Oops! Moral of the story: read your test all the way through!
It wasn't long between when I put the pony away and when the results were up. There was a brief mix up with ride numbers, but it was resolved shortly. Of course the mix-up involved me and my arch nemesis, but I just took the opportunity to be extra sweet to her face.
I was not looking forward to seeing how we'd done. I honestly felt like it was some of the worst riding I'd done in my life, and CP was definitely not showing his best side. I just wanted to see how bad it was and go home.
The test by test break down:
Test A: It was almost as bad as I'd expected. We did get a 7 on our final halt, but everything else was 5.5-6.5. CP earned a 7 on his gaits, but only a 5 on his submission. Over all, our score was a lousy 59%. The judge called us an attractive pair, but made a lot of comments on my need to learn about contact. Ouch. Still, we got 3rd in the class, so at least we were bringing home a ribbon.
Test B: We faired only slightly better with a 60%. This time we only got 5.5's because of CP's poo incident and we got 7's on our medium walk, which is what I expect of him at this point. I was shocked to find out we got second place, only behind the fancy German young horse.
Test C: Our final test was much better than our other two. Despite the fact that it was only his first time cantering in front of a judge, CP scored 6's on the canter. He got 7's on his free walk and working trot and would have gotten a 7 on his halt if I knew where it was. The judge commented on how nicely turned out we were and called us a cute pair. She also expressed surprise at how not-tired he was, suggesting we slow his tempo to get him better engaged (I know... *hangs head in shame*). We ended up with a 62%, which was acceptable for our first canter showing and earned us a second place in the class. If I knew how to read a test, maybe we would have won -_-
Over all I can't complain. CP earned Reserve Champion in two out of his three classes despite it being a very bad day for both of us (and at only his third show!). I keep reminding him that he has to trudge through the flat stuff if he wants to get to the excitement of eventing.
Best of all, our timing allowed us to stay and watch OntheBit show with her horse, Lucky! The two of them were having an awesome day and rode extremely well! They even scored an elusive 9 on their last test! AND OTB wound up with Grand Champion, which she totally deserved! Most awesomely, I was able to take pictures of the two of them, which I think made everyone happy all around. I won't steal OTB's thunder by going into too much detail about her show, but I'm willing to bet she'll spill all the nitty gritty on her blog soon :)
1. No bucking or falling off.
2. Break 60% in all three tests
3. Pick up the correct lead both ways at the canter and hold it
4. Come back down out of the canter without a tug-of-war
I reminded Erin that I was not allowed to rant or complain if the tests were less than perfect. No micromanaging the pony and no taking the show too seriously.
At the last show, I gave CP a half hour warm up. It proved to be much too long, even for just two tests. For the championships, I was riding all three Intro tests and I knew we needed a shorter warm-up. I decided to aim for a ten minute walk-trot warm up before knocking out A and B. Then I'd school the canter a bit before entering the show ring for test C. It seemed like a pretty solid plan.Turns out I was stuck in what I call the Goldilocks Principle. Half an hour was too much. Ten minutes was too little. We still haven't found just right.
Erin came with me to be my show mommy, reader, and photographer. My ride times were in the middle of the afternoon, making it impossible for anyone else in the CP Fan Club to make it. We got the pony cleaned up and loaded quickly and easily. Erin even had time to braid him, which was a nice finishing touch.
We got to the show grounds, parking behind the fancy German couple with the 'young horse' who I'm pretty sure was born doing third level. I unloaded the pony, signed into the office, and got into my show gear. The show secretary commented on the fact that I was cutting it close to my ride time, but I assured her I was keeping an eye on the clock. I had bought new tall boots and a belt leading up to the show and everything fit well and matched nicely. Woo!
It was only as we entered the dressage arena that I realized they had put up all sorts of fancy flowers by the letters surrounding the ring. They were very pretty, but they were also new! and exciting! After the initial gawking, CP was not spooked by the flowers. He was, however, intrigued by them, and spent the entire test staring over the rail at them. He kept his feet right where they needed to be, but I had to keep correcting his bend and he was definitely not soft and on the bit. I grimaced, knowing the test had not gone as well as usual. Still, we halted squarely at the end, thanked the judge, and rode away with lots of praise aimed at the pony.
In between tests, I spotted my trailer loading 'buddy' from last time. She was riding a skinny, dark bay horse and they both looked super crabby. Her friends were hanging out by the fence, making nasty remarks until they figured out that Erin was with me. Wonderful.
By the second test, CP was completely over the flowers. However, he also seemed to be completely over the whole showing thing. I'm pretty sure he 'knew' that this was the last test and he was almost done with 'this silly flatwork business' for the day. We entered the ring braced through the neck and above the bit. He continued to fight with me through all our transitions and his idea of relaxing at the free walk was to shake his head in annoyance at his fancy new braids. At one point, he actually started to slow out of the trot and I had to BOOT him to keep him from breaking into a walk. I found out after the fact that he'd been taking a poo... which did make it slightly less frustrating and slightly more funny. I will say that our circles were nice and round for a change (hooray geometry!) and he did give me some nice moments at the medium walk.
I entered the ring one last time with a definite 'let's get this over with' attitude. CP seemed happier now that we'd gotten a chance to canter and had mixed the routine up a bit, and I found myself thinking it was time to move him up before he died of boredom. As we came down the center line, I noticed my buddy's cheering squad stalking up the grassy hill behind the ring. I can't prove it, of course, but I suspect they were trying to get a rise out of me and spook my pony. Sadly for them, CP is not a spooky horse and completely ignored both them and the tractor baling hay in the next field over. As for me, their eyes locked on my performance just made me that much more determined to ride well.
The last test went fairly well. CP was finally starting to relax at the trot, although he still wasn't as soft and submissive as I've seen him at home. He took ANOTHER poo break, which made me want to whack him a little. As for the canter, the thing that I was stressing over all day, I needn't have worried. CP picked up both leads the second I asked, maintained a steady if somewhat-quick gait all the way around his circles, and slowed back down at the mere thought of 'trot'. I finally smiled.
And then I made an error.
In Intro.
With a reader.
*facedesk*
It wasn't long between when I put the pony away and when the results were up. There was a brief mix up with ride numbers, but it was resolved shortly. Of course the mix-up involved me and my arch nemesis, but I just took the opportunity to be extra sweet to her face.
I was not looking forward to seeing how we'd done. I honestly felt like it was some of the worst riding I'd done in my life, and CP was definitely not showing his best side. I just wanted to see how bad it was and go home.
The test by test break down:
Test A: It was almost as bad as I'd expected. We did get a 7 on our final halt, but everything else was 5.5-6.5. CP earned a 7 on his gaits, but only a 5 on his submission. Over all, our score was a lousy 59%. The judge called us an attractive pair, but made a lot of comments on my need to learn about contact. Ouch. Still, we got 3rd in the class, so at least we were bringing home a ribbon.
Test B: We faired only slightly better with a 60%. This time we only got 5.5's because of CP's poo incident and we got 7's on our medium walk, which is what I expect of him at this point. I was shocked to find out we got second place, only behind the fancy German young horse.
Test C: Our final test was much better than our other two. Despite the fact that it was only his first time cantering in front of a judge, CP scored 6's on the canter. He got 7's on his free walk and working trot and would have gotten a 7 on his halt if I knew where it was. The judge commented on how nicely turned out we were and called us a cute pair. She also expressed surprise at how not-tired he was, suggesting we slow his tempo to get him better engaged (I know... *hangs head in shame*). We ended up with a 62%, which was acceptable for our first canter showing and earned us a second place in the class. If I knew how to read a test, maybe we would have won -_-
Over all I can't complain. CP earned Reserve Champion in two out of his three classes despite it being a very bad day for both of us (and at only his third show!). I keep reminding him that he has to trudge through the flat stuff if he wants to get to the excitement of eventing.
Best of all, our timing allowed us to stay and watch OntheBit show with her horse, Lucky! The two of them were having an awesome day and rode extremely well! They even scored an elusive 9 on their last test! AND OTB wound up with Grand Champion, which she totally deserved! Most awesomely, I was able to take pictures of the two of them, which I think made everyone happy all around. I won't steal OTB's thunder by going into too much detail about her show, but I'm willing to bet she'll spill all the nitty gritty on her blog soon :)
Dog in the Road
A few weeks ago, I was heading home from my lesson with C. I had just enough time to drop Herbie off at home before heading south to ride Wink. I pulled off the highway onto the main road by our house.
Suddenly, traffic was slowing to a halt in front of me. Before I had time to curse at the hold up, I spotted a pit bull mix running across the road. He looked lost and terrified. Thankfully people were slowing down and giving him space, so he hadn't been hit yet, but, of course, nobody actually bothered to stop and try to help.
Forsaking my schedule, I pulled to the shoulder and got out of my car. Herbie perked up in the back seat, intrigued by this strange loose dog. The dog was obviously someone's pet. He was well fed with a shiny coat and a blue collar full of jingling tags. He had probably escaped from a yard and I doubted the owners had even noticed yet. He seemed friendly enough, with his tail wiggling and his face soft, but he was obviously frightened and unsure of himself. At first, he came running right up to me, but once he got within a few feet, he second-guessed himself and started barking and backing up.
"It's ok, buddy," I talked softly to the dog, dropping to a crouch on the sidewalk. Traffic continued to whizz by. "Can I see you? Why don't you come here so we can get you home." He cocked his head at me for a second and crept a step closer.
Of course I come prepared for all of these situations. Not only did I have a leash in my car; I also had a bag of dog cookies (which Erin snagged for me at the Horse Park in May). The dog followed me toward my car as I retrieved both the leash and the cookies, but he stayed just out of reach.
I turned around and resumed my squatting position on the side of the road. I tossed a cookie into the grass in front of the dog. After an initial step back, he crouched forward, sniffing for the treat. He gobbled down the first cookie, then came closer, looking for more. I broke another cookie into little pieces and tossed another bit toward him. Once again, he stepped closer. Rinse, repeat.
I had the dog within six feet of me when Ewing police and Animal Control suddenly whipped into the shoulder, surrounding my car. Heavy boots hit the pavement as the officer leaped out of his squad car.
"Ma'am, is that your dog?" he barked.
"No," I sighed heavily. "My dog is under control and in my car. I just thought I'd try to catch him before he got hit. I almost had him, too..." I aimed a pointed glance at his car.
The cop gave me the up-and-down, pausing to stare at my half chaps and riding boots. Then he said, more softly this time, "We'll take it from here."
"I guess you guys don't need me for anything else?" I offered.
"No."
"And I don't suppose you'll take any advice from me," I sighed again. The dog was now hiding in the bushes at the far side of the house I'd pulled over in front of. The burly Animal Control officer, who clearly has no feel for dogs in general, was stalking toward him with one of those noose-on-a-stick devices. "Well, good luck with him."
I drove by 20 minutes later and the dog was still darting back and forth with the pair of men chasing him around. *sigh* I didn't see him dead in the road when I got back two hours later so I'm hoping they caught him. It was a bit depressing to watch AC at work though. I'll tell you what... if I ever hit a dog because Animal Control chased it into the road in front of me, I'd be PISSED.
Suddenly, traffic was slowing to a halt in front of me. Before I had time to curse at the hold up, I spotted a pit bull mix running across the road. He looked lost and terrified. Thankfully people were slowing down and giving him space, so he hadn't been hit yet, but, of course, nobody actually bothered to stop and try to help.
Forsaking my schedule, I pulled to the shoulder and got out of my car. Herbie perked up in the back seat, intrigued by this strange loose dog. The dog was obviously someone's pet. He was well fed with a shiny coat and a blue collar full of jingling tags. He had probably escaped from a yard and I doubted the owners had even noticed yet. He seemed friendly enough, with his tail wiggling and his face soft, but he was obviously frightened and unsure of himself. At first, he came running right up to me, but once he got within a few feet, he second-guessed himself and started barking and backing up.
"It's ok, buddy," I talked softly to the dog, dropping to a crouch on the sidewalk. Traffic continued to whizz by. "Can I see you? Why don't you come here so we can get you home." He cocked his head at me for a second and crept a step closer.
Of course I come prepared for all of these situations. Not only did I have a leash in my car; I also had a bag of dog cookies (which Erin snagged for me at the Horse Park in May). The dog followed me toward my car as I retrieved both the leash and the cookies, but he stayed just out of reach.
I turned around and resumed my squatting position on the side of the road. I tossed a cookie into the grass in front of the dog. After an initial step back, he crouched forward, sniffing for the treat. He gobbled down the first cookie, then came closer, looking for more. I broke another cookie into little pieces and tossed another bit toward him. Once again, he stepped closer. Rinse, repeat.
I had the dog within six feet of me when Ewing police and Animal Control suddenly whipped into the shoulder, surrounding my car. Heavy boots hit the pavement as the officer leaped out of his squad car.
"Ma'am, is that your dog?" he barked.
"No," I sighed heavily. "My dog is under control and in my car. I just thought I'd try to catch him before he got hit. I almost had him, too..." I aimed a pointed glance at his car.
The cop gave me the up-and-down, pausing to stare at my half chaps and riding boots. Then he said, more softly this time, "We'll take it from here."
"I guess you guys don't need me for anything else?" I offered.
"No."
"And I don't suppose you'll take any advice from me," I sighed again. The dog was now hiding in the bushes at the far side of the house I'd pulled over in front of. The burly Animal Control officer, who clearly has no feel for dogs in general, was stalking toward him with one of those noose-on-a-stick devices. "Well, good luck with him."
I drove by 20 minutes later and the dog was still darting back and forth with the pair of men chasing him around. *sigh* I didn't see him dead in the road when I got back two hours later so I'm hoping they caught him. It was a bit depressing to watch AC at work though. I'll tell you what... if I ever hit a dog because Animal Control chased it into the road in front of me, I'd be PISSED.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Sandy's Place
My friend, Sandy, has been on a search for her next endurance horse ever since she found a home for Doc. A few weeks ago she heard of some nice Arabian mares in less-than-ideal conditions who were for sale. One of the mares appealed to her and she went down to meet and try her. It went really well, but in the end the mare didn't pass her vetting, and Sandy 'accidentally' came home with a different mare from the same place. To cut a long story short, this mare DID eventually pass her vet check and is staying with Sandy for keeps.
In the mean time, Sandy wanted me to come down and meet the potential new horse and give my opinion of her. I'm always up for visiting people's farms and I hadn't been to Sandy's yet, so I picked a day when I was halfway there already and stopped by for a visit.
The farm is lovely. There's a big front pasture and an ancient, but functional barn. The farm house is one I would love to live in, and there is trail access right across the street. Sandy and her SO live on a beef farm so their primary concern is cattle, but the horses are perfectly happy to share the pasture.
While I was there, I got to meet Sandy's older Morgan horse. I'm going to share a photo. You guess how old he is:
45. The horse is FORTY-FIVE years old. I don't ever want to hear it about 'he's skinny because he's old'. Age is not an excuse. Granted, there are other underlying issues that may cause weight loss and many of those go hand in hand with aging, but age in and of itself is NOT a reason for your horse to be a rack of bones. Seriously.
And then there was Sandy's dog, Jasmine, a pointer who reminded me so much of Herbie that I'm now convinced that my own dog has at least SOME pointer blood in her. The talking, the full body wiggle, the white body, the slender silhouette, and even the blocky forehead. It would certainly explain why Herbie is tall and leggy for a pit!
But enough rambling, have some photos of Sandy's place :)
In the mean time, Sandy wanted me to come down and meet the potential new horse and give my opinion of her. I'm always up for visiting people's farms and I hadn't been to Sandy's yet, so I picked a day when I was halfway there already and stopped by for a visit.
The farm is lovely. There's a big front pasture and an ancient, but functional barn. The farm house is one I would love to live in, and there is trail access right across the street. Sandy and her SO live on a beef farm so their primary concern is cattle, but the horses are perfectly happy to share the pasture.
While I was there, I got to meet Sandy's older Morgan horse. I'm going to share a photo. You guess how old he is:
And then there was Sandy's dog, Jasmine, a pointer who reminded me so much of Herbie that I'm now convinced that my own dog has at least SOME pointer blood in her. The talking, the full body wiggle, the white body, the slender silhouette, and even the blocky forehead. It would certainly explain why Herbie is tall and leggy for a pit!
But enough rambling, have some photos of Sandy's place :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)