Good Night, Sweet Prince

Monday was a very sad day for all of us out at Blue Wave Stable.We lost the wonderful Friesian named Black, who I just wrote about a couple of weeks ago, to colic. It happened so fast, it's hard to believe, and it's taken me a couple of days to be able to even think about for more than a few minutes without melting into an ugly cry.

I know I talk, on here and in real life, about how Skye is the prettiest horse there is, but even I recognize that there are some horses who stop everyone in their tracks. Black was one of those. He was the big black horse that people think of when they hear those words, large as most Friesians are, probably at least 17 hands, and so black he seemed more solidly in the world than other horses. He was so beautifully put together that a sculptor making the ideal horse couldn't have done it better. I see horses all the time, yet whenever I dealt with Black, I'd be amazed at him. He was that beautiful.

Here he is. He's the one getting the pets, as he was clearly the boss of
these two. I called them the Incredibles.

Erin rescued him from a life that had been spent for seven long years in a stall. I don't know the details, but I believe his owner had loved him and cared for him at one time, but had a back injury and let him languish while she keep thinking she would recover. She finally called Erin, who went and got him, and you could tell Black never forgot it. If you were standing with him and he heard her voice, he'd turn toward it, looking for her. In recent months, Erin had restricted who could ride him and started riding him more herself, for her own pleasure for a change. You could tell he loved getting more time with her, as he dropped some of his normally regal reserve even when she wasn't around.

He'd always been a little aloof with me, which is unusual since most animals, dogs and horses especially, have my number in a matter of seconds. But the evening he knocked down the rails in the round pen he showed me his mischievous side, and I was utterly charmed by him from then on, and he definitely knew it. I'm glad I have helped out feeding as much as I have lately, as I would go out of my way to try to get him or put him back just to be in his presence. Those few encounters are so precious to me now.

Up close and personal. You can see the mischief here.

He was a blast to ride as well, smart and well-trained, but you had to keep alert because if he sensed you would not control him, he would have his way with you. He was so naturally good natured this generally meant turning in to the middle of the ring instead of staying on the rail, but you knew you weren't on a pushover, so when he did what you asked, you knew you had accomplished something.

Apparently he was found rolling and obviously in pain on Friday and despite repeated visits to the vet, mineral oil treatments, fluids and the best care they could give him, he developed an impaction that would not budge. He was not a good candidate for surgery as he was 20 years old, and so when he was in pain, they put him down on Monday to spare him.

A horse would be hard-pressed to have had  a happier life than he has in the last few years, leading a laid back existence as the king of his own little herd, and respected and adored by a horde of people, but it still seems so unfair.

About a month ago, Erin led a trail ride on him, and as she was coming by, she rode by the barn on him. She was smiling, and he was stepping out beautifully. It was such a lovely picture of a woman and her horse enjoying each other. I am keeping that picture in my mind, even as I cry thinking about the loss.

It was privilege to know him, I just wish my acquaintance could have lasted so much longer.

A prince among horses.

Horse Heaven

Unlike me, who falls utterly in love with every horse I encounter, my trainer Sara is a tougher customer.  She prefers to think of herself as more of a connoisseur, but still, her standards are very high.  (She will even say, out loud, that Skye is not perfect. So you see, she is tough.) So I was interested to hear what she considered her favorite horses. I expected her to say a Warmblood of some kind, as we will often admire Nigel together as Carey goes cantering past on him. Instead she said she likes Spanish horses, such as PRE's, Andalusians and Lusitanos. As it happens, I have also been reading various books on balancing your horse and improving your relationship through liberty work and several of the authors mention how much they love the Spanish type horses.

This is Rayo. He has the
classic Lusitano head. He has
tipped me over into loving
grey horses. He's stunning.

So I did a little searching to see where I might get to see some, and lo and behold there is a renowned breeder of Lusitanos in Siler City, North  Carolina. Even better, Siler City is between Charlotte and Raleigh, so I could stop in on my way home from taking the dastardly test in Raleigh last week.  So I e-mailed Victoria Morris of Don E Mor Farms, and she  said she would be happy to let me visit. I got there a little late because of a traffic tie up in Raleigh, but it was totally worth the drive.


To learn more about Lusitanos and see Don E Mor's  jaw-droppingly gorgeous website, go to:

www.donemor.com

While the farm and the horses are so impressive, Victoria could not have been more down to earth and welcoming. My Quarter Horse Appendix-owning self felt perfectly at home.


The farm itself was so beautiful, with post and rail fencing, rolling hill pastures and tall trees everywhere, and that's before you even get to the horses. If I were to run away from home, this is probably where you could find me.

It was cloudy, so the color isn't as vibrant, but it's just lovely.

Lusitanos are famous not only for being beautiful, but for their docile and friendly personalities, and I have to say, that was definitely evident in these horses. Victoria mentioned that temperament was one of her most important, if not the most important, consideration in her breeding program, and you could really tell. We visited pasture after pasture and each small herd would meet us at the fence, ready for affection. Kind eyes and sweet expressions on every one.

Look at those sweet eyes.
Not that I can be won over by that kind of thing.

I got to see a couple of her stallions, and I fell hard for her buckskin stallion Lavrador. Absolutely gorgeous color, beautiful conformation, and the same kind eye and affectionate personality. Granted, I'm such a horse lover that I'm easy to impress, but even the toughest customer would see he is something special. And his offspring carry his qualities forward, as the babies at Don E Mor are just  beautiful and sweet.

The welcoming committee!
Every herd was this friendly. I just love their personalities.

 I don't often wish for things I don't have (other than more free time) but I was wishing I had a horse farm and plenty of money to spend when I was there, as there wasn't just one but several horses I would have loved to bring home with me.

I'd be happy to take these two off her hands.
Because I'm generous that way.

Of course, who won my heart the most? Shocking news: a bay mare! After perusing the website before I went there, I thought I would come away dying for a buckskin gelding, as I have such a weakness for buckskins and I have this image of a Lusitano buckskin gelding in my mind . . . . But instead, I met this girl . . . .

This is Isabel. She loved me too; I just
know it. Look at that face.

Which of course reminded me that I am so lucky to have the horse that still makes me feel like I am rich, as I still haven't seen the horse that I like the look of better than that red mare of mine. Not that my head can't be turned by a buckskin baby or two.

His color is like burnished gold.

So the good news is, I know exactly where to go when I come into money and it's burning holes in my pocket!  Whenever I have visited a breeding farm and seen the breed, I've been impressed and able to see why the people fell in love with the breed they raise (such as Icelandic horses or Rocky Mountain Horses) but with these, I definitely became a believer. I just loved them.

Not as much as this girl though. There's no point in being silly.

She had me at "let me eat this grass."

Go Go Girl

Ahhhh, now that I have my stupid specialty exam behind me (I took it Friday. All day Friday. Ugh), I can now get back to avoiding cleaning my house by writing my blog instead of worrying about my exam. Not that my minor worrying about the exam made me study for the exam, but it did distract me.

But I am back, and I am back in the saddle on my girl. Something Buck Brannaman said at his clinic struck a chord with me.  He said groundwork is important, and we should not neglect it, if we need it, but we shouldn't hide behind it either. We can only get so far on the ground before we have to get on. So I made a vow now that she is sound again that I need to ride her more and get back to the progress we had made before I went to camp.

So I have been riding her, and having a hell of a good time. I rode her on a Sunday afternoon, and though she was really ready to go, and wanted to trot and not walk, we reached an agreement early on in the ride that I was going to let her trot, but if she wanted to work, we would work. So we did figure eights, we did big circles, we did small circles, we did serpentines and went over ground poles. We did a clover leaf around barrels and we stopped and backed up and started trotting again. After all that, I asked for, and got a nice walk around the arena. And when I got off, she followed me just like a puppy out of the arena and into the barn.

The following Tuesday however, was a whole 'nother story. There was a nip in the air and a slight wind, and all the horses seemed riled up. I did a little lunging but not much because the arena had two lessons with beginners going on, and these two new sweeties were in the round pen:

Meet Copper and Winston, new additions to the
barn membership program. Yes, as a matter of fact they are
awesome.

Even though that girlfriend was a little touchy, I didn't want to hide behind my groundwork, and frankly it was just a beautiful night to ride, so I got on. Well, that red mare was READY TO GO. She wanted to trot almost immediately, but I kept her from trotting for at least a little while, then I just let her go. And she was going fast, and unlike recently, she hollowed her back again and had her head up and had none of the nice rhythm we'd had. Okay, though, I posted slower and put her in circles and figure eights, but finally went down the straightaway on the rail, and she just burst into a fast canter, and leaned in around the curve. She was on the correct lead and actually on her weak side, so I had to admire her spirit (and let's face it, fast is fun!), but I couldn't have her cantering around like a mad thing, thinking she could ignore me. So I brought her back down to a trot and worked in smaller and smaller circles moving her feet around, then finally getting a nice relaxed walk before calling it a night. I was a little discouraged, but all the horses were in a weird mood. I remembered the first days of fall at the barn where I grew up riding and how all the horses would run around in the pasture, so I decided not to let it bother me. And though she was feisty, then, as always, I never felt like she was trying to get rid of me. She just wanted her own way. Which is something I can understand even if I can't let her get away with it.

Here she is after being a wild thing.
Don't be fooled by that sweet expression.
She is not actually an angel in a horse suit.
Or so Sara tells me.

As it turns out, I was right not to overreact. (Sadly, overreacting is rarely the right thing to do, even though it is so nice and easy to do.) When I rode Skye again over that next weekend, she wanted to go, but not so badly that she didn't want to listen. Then on Tuesday I rode again, and I had one of the best rides I've ever had on her. She relaxed her head and neck much more, contained her trot to a nice easy rhythm and was very responsive to my leg and did not avoid nor lean into my light contact. Bravo, I thought, then quit while I was ahead.

Scarface. Who else could have scars front and center
like that and still be so beautiful?

And, as it happened that night, Craig was riding the beautiful Symphony that night. Symphony is a gorgeous and very well-trained American Warmblood who Erin bought to save for a girl to buy back one day. She is a great horse, and only advanced folks can ride her. I remarked that I'd like to ride her trot some time, since it is legendary for being so smooth. Craig said "do it now!"  So I said yes! And I hopped up on that pretty girl and walked a little and trotted a little. And her trot is amazingly smooth, and much easier to sit than to post to. This cannot be sad about my girl's trot. Yet, I did have to keep Symphony going. It didn't take much, but still, it made me miss the willingness to go forward that Skye has.  Symphony was great, but I still like my girl better. Shocking news.

Chow Time

The past couple of weeks have been a little crazy for me time-wise. The boys have had projects due and new extracurricular schedules to adjust to, so I have been needed at home and out to the barn a lot less.  I think the same thing has happened to other people, as when I did get out the barn, a couple of times all I had time to do was love on my girl a little then pitch in to help feed. It's always funny to me that feeding horses would technically classify as work, but that it never feels like that at all. I sure get a lot more gratitude from the horses than I ever get from Dave and the boys!

I helped to feed the mares first, and naturally my girl, as alpha, was the first to come in. Hmm. She was a little on the rude side, rushing me a little as I led to her to her bucket. I had to back her up a couple of times and then she waited for me. She did give me the stink eye the first time though. The feeders usually tell me she is a good girl, but I think she has been getting away with a little rushing, most likely because the feeders have a lot of horses to feed and can't be schooling all of them in manners. Still, it taught me that girl is getting sassy!

Sassiness refueling. What a nice
butt she has. Must be nice.

Then I got to help with one of the gelding herds, which included Bon Jovi and my dear friend Ike. Though he's the largest horse by far in that pasture (or any pasture for that matter), he is near the bottom of the herd, so he comes in second to last. As I was getting ready to get him, he was trotting around waiting and it was so good to see him strutting around. He is so huge and beautiful that it was just such a pleasure watching him. I had to wait for the only halter at the barn that fits him to be free, then I took him in to eat and he was very gentlemanly about being taken to his stall. Getting him out was something different, as that boy likes to hang in his stall. I tried to lead him out but he was having none of it. I tried moving his head side to side to make him take a step. Nothing. I flipped the lead line onto his butt, harder and harder. Nothing. When a mountain of a horse doesn't want to move, he doesn't want to move. Fine. I put the lead line over his shoulder, stepped to the side and tied my boot. Out he came, walking right toward his pasture, so I just followed him there, got the lead line then let him go. Then just for fun, I hung out in there with him. 'Cause he's awesome, that's why.

Ike. He's awesome. Face it.
Not everybody can pull off looking this intimidating with
their tongue out either.

Another night I went out and got my girl for some groomin' and grazin'. Black, the big Friesian (is that redundant? I guess all Friesians are big, but your sense of normal horse size gets warped after dealing with Ike) and Cowboy, a big Paint that looks like he has some Warmblood in him, were together in the round pen because Cowboy had an injury to a hoof.  Black is fantastically beautiful and a dream to ride, but I've never got the sense he likes me that much. He has an aloof personality anyway (he is a rescue who had been kept in a stall for 7 years, so he has his reasons), but most horses have my number and warm up to me pretty quickly. No so with Black. So though I like him, he and I have been somewhat strangers to each other.

Black admiring Skye from afar, and plotting his
big move to impress her.

So this night I brought Skye over to graze in that area where the grass and clover were nice. Of course, Black needed to get a good look at Skye, as all the boys like Skye. They touched noses, then Skye was done with him and went back to eating. I guess he got a little jealous of the grass, so he leaned over the rail of the round pen to reach some grass on the other side (where it truly was greener, as the round pen is pretty much of a dry lot). The top rail was no match for the weight of his neck, so POP went the side of the rail. He turned to look at me as I was heading over to it, like he was very pleased with himself. Then he leaned over the next one and did the same thing! Such a naughty boy. When I got there, he looked me right in the eye, then leaned over the now low barrier and started munching on the grass he could now reach, as if to show me things were a lot better now.

Then we had to move Black and Cowboy to another small paddock, and Black was just as sweet as he could be, standing there with me after I released him, giving me a good sniff all over, probably enjoying the scent of Skye on my clothes.

So now I'm in love with Black.  Shocking, I know.

Yes, this is the same pic from the other day.
10 points for Gryffindor if you noticed.

I'm starting fresh with Skye for the 100th time, as between her lameness and my schedule, she hasn't been ridden for weeks, and she has been resistant in the round pen both at liberty and on the line. She is still pretty good, but has not wanted to change directions or calm down and walk, so we'll go back there.

But she's still pretty.

Seriously. Who's prettier than that? Nobody, that's who.
I'm clearly completely objective.

Spectating at the Buck Brannaman Clinic

So yesterday I got up at 5:45am (a Hellish time for a night owl like me) to drive from my in-laws' house to the Clemson equestrian arena to watch a Buck Brannaman clinic. Don't worry; I had previously warned Skye that I would be coming back a new horsewoman, so her free ride on her good looks would be over!

Buck Brannaman is one of the best known natural horsemanship trainers in the US. He is well known not only because he is really good, but also because he was the subject of the award-winning documentary film Buck which tells the story of his upbringing and how he came to rise above it. He was taught by some famous horsemen out west, including Ray Hunt, considered one of the fathers of natural horsemanship, though I don't know if either Ray Hunt or Buck use that term in connection with their way of working with horses.

Pretty horses! Impressive arena as well. I would love
to ride my girl there. That's Buck in the middle.

When I use the term, I'm thinking of the horse training methodologies that attempt to work within the horse's mindset, by using observation of horse behavior to guide training and then manipulating the horse's behavior by putting pressure in some way to make the right thing easy and the wrong thing difficult. I know there is some backlash against the idea of  natural horsemanship in that it relies on negative reinforcement (removal of a bad thing as a reward) instead of the positive reinforcement (rewarding the good behavior with food or other desirable thing), which is used in clicker training and much wild animal training. However, no matter how you want to train your horse, the fact is that prior to the rise of natural horsemanship methods such as those of Ray Hunt, Tom Dorrance and now Buck Brannaman, Pat Parelli, Clinton Anderson and countless others, old school/traditional methods of "breaking" horse were the order of the day for thousands of horses. The new way of thinking has now saved thousands of horses from heart-breakingly cruel methods of literally breaking of the spirit of the horse.

Buck himself is also an extraordinary person, and I would urge anyone, interested in horses or not, to watch the film. My whole family watched it (even given their odd lack of interest in horses) and even considered coming with me yesterday because they admired him so much. You can watch the film and/or read his book The Faraway Horses to learn more, but in a nutshell in his young childhood he was raised by a loving mother but also by a violently abusive father. When his mother passed away at young age, he and his brother were left at the mercy of this man. When the abuse was discovered, they were moved to a wonderful loving foster family who raised them. He went on to become a world famous horse trainer, who is now known for his firm but kind and understanding treatment of horses, and inspires others to treat their horses with the same kind of respect. That's taking lemons and making champagne, if you ask me.

Needless to say, though, yesterday was all horses, no dramatic story, so Dave and the boys would have been bored out of their minds. However, the little crew of people from my barn and I were delighted! Watching Buck riding and handling the horses he was on made me want to be able to do it so badly I could just taste it. He and the horse were just perfectly in sync, and Buck could just move that horse around with almost undetectable movement, on the ground or on his back, wherever he wanted him, for one step or twenty. I also noted that while the horse was standing quietly, just being a good boy, Buck would rub his forehead or his neck. I've seen so many videos where no affection is shown to the horse, that it just made my day to see that. And the lesson for me was that it seemed to mean more to the horse coming from the person the horse respected so much. Of course I'm over-thinking it, but that's my specialty!

I learned a ton of things about horse thinking in general, and visualizations to keep in my head while working with Skye, and I ended up taking a ton of notes in my handy dandy notebook (which is also delightfully filled with drawings of bugs, eyeballs and Nintendo characters by the boys). But the best part was seeing the horses. We had front row seats and so seeing them come by was like a parade. Just eye candy for horse lovers. Both the morning class and the afternoon class (two separate classes, two groups of horses) had its own Friesian that looked like something out of a fairy tale. So gorgeous. My phone was just about out of power, so I could only take a few pictures, so here is picture of another Friesian who has won my heart for your viewing pleasure. More about him in my next post.

This is my Friesian friend Black. As impressive
as any I've seen.

There were several very cute Appaloosas, which I was formerly crazy enough to think I didn't like that much. Wrong again! These were so cute and seemed very willing. (And my sweet Reebok was an Appaloosa; I still miss him every day.) Also, I've never seen so many roans in my life. Even a couple of bay roans. So very cool. A big buckskin paint that I wanted to buy on the spot, a very cool leopard spotted Appaloosa (once again, a horse I thought I wouldn't care for. Why do I bother?), a deep golden stocky palomino Quarter Horse who looked like he trotted out of a little girl's dream. There also a number of various colors of gray, from charcoal to ones so light they looked like alabaster, including a couple that had to be Thoroughbreds, which was neat to see in among the Quarter Horses and Paints. The horse Buck rode in the first class was so adorable. I guess he was a bay roan, but in the light, he almost looked purple. Here he is, that cutey:

Yes, the photo is crappy (I was talking!) but you can
see his color and how cute he is anyway.

Buck referred to him as green, but I'm guessing I've never been on a horse as well trained as that one appeared to be.

Of course, I learned once again that I got the horse I needed.  I was just loving looking at the variety of horses, and imagining my future lottery winnings buying me one of each I saw, but the ones that drew my eye the most, the ones I thought looked best, were always beautiful bays with pretty heads and well-proportioned bodies. Even the flash of Friesians and palominos can't turn me away! Even better, the second class, Horsemanship II, was full of Quarter Horses of all different colors that looked like they were brothers and sisters of my girl! Pretty heads, kind, intelligent eyes, nice movement. These people knew what kind of horse is right.

When I took Skye to training soon after I got her, the older man trainer had taken one look at her and told me she had Doc Bar blood (a famous Quarter Horse stud apparently famous in the area) and looking at all these horses that looked like her, I would have to say there was something to it.  There were a couple of bays, a stunning black, a roan, and - be still my heart - a buckskin. (I flippin' love a buckskin, maybe as much as a bay.) Damn, those horses looked good. As someone from the barn pointed out to me, some of them looked almost as good as Skye. (I suspect they may have been teasing me, because believe it or not, some of them actually think their own horses look better than Skye. Crazy, I know.)

It was an interesting group taking the class as well. The majority of them appeared to be middle-aged, with a fair number of even older folks. There was one pretty old guy who was just a great horseman, and an older woman with long gray hair who was so good she must have been to one of these clinics before and practiced all year. Also, the guy (probably late 50's, early 60's) who had a gorgeous stocky palomino had a mustache so showy and long you could have hung Christmas ornaments from it.  I loved it. If you're gonna do something like that, go on and go all out, I say.

Sadly, I did not have the power left in my camera, nor the nerve, to
get a pic of the impressive mustache. I'm sorry. It was worth seeing.

A couple of the riders were younger women (30's maybe), and the group seemed almost evenly split between men and women, which seems unusual now that women dominate the horse world for the most part. It comforts me to know there are still a bunch of men out there loving horses. There was one guy that I dubbed JR Ewing because he reminded me of the TV character with his upright and almost cocky demeanor and perfectly pressed shirt and jeans and impressive chaps and cowboy hat. He was very good though, and his horse was impressive.

Another neat thing was that everyone had groomed their horses impeccably. The white on all the horses practically glowed, and the manes and tails were all clean and silky looking. The horses really were impressive, and I was thinking as I drove back to my in-laws that it made sense that people who cared enough about their riding and their horses to shell out the $700 or $800 to take the 3 day clinic would have awesome horses and cool tack, and that they would show off their horses when given the chance. So overall, it was just a very fun experience.  I will definitely be viewing as a spectator the next time he comes through.

To learn more about Buck Brannaman, his website is:

http://www.brannaman.com

To learn more about Buck, the documentary film about him, the website is:

http://www.buckthefilm.com

If you would like to buy me an early birthday present, you can get me this:

http://www.7clinics.com


Or you could just watch them yourself, I guess. I really think buying them for me would give you a warmer feeling though. 'Just sayin'.

I'm off to see that mare of mine. I'm sure she will be acting for me just like Buck's horses act for him soon. Or not. But we'll keep trying.

Time of TLC

I was so ready to get back to my schedule with Skye of getting her in shape with my new riding legs from camp, when - cue scary music from Jaws - ABSCESS! Because the wet summer this year, a lot of the horses at the barn have been getting abscesses in their hooves, but I thought Skye had escaped. Then, just as it finally started to dry out, it struck.

Suspicious

At first, she was favoring one hind leg, but not in a dramatic way.  We put her on a couple of days of bute in case it was muscle soreness, but when I checked her a couple of days later, she limped dramatically when I put her out. Erin said that sounded like an abscess, which the farrier confirmed a couple of days later. He tried to dig it out, but it was too deep. Then followed days of soaking her foot in Epsom salts, then wrapping it up in a poultice of  ichthammol, which looks like meconium (a baby's first very sticky poop but smells like real poop). The abscess would not emerge. Then the vet took a look at her and recommended a sugardine poultice, which was fun to mix. Though it didn't smell good, it smelled more like medicine which was a little better. A couple of days of that did work, and though we never saw a dramatic drainage, she returned to soundness.

All this time, she was kept in the stall at night, which she doesn't particularly like, or in the round pen with the twins, who are adorable together and almost as pretty as my Skye. The good thing that came out of her being with the twins is that it is apparent that there are few things Skye likes better than bossing younger horses around, which she did with relish. Yet they love her for it. There's a lesson in that, I think.

See, they're pretty! Tahoe is the larger one, Reno
is the smaller one that looks like a young Skye.
Not that I'm in love with her or anything. I'm
too much of a tough customer for that.
(But when I win the lottery, I'm totally buying her.)

I was a little frustrated that after I had developed my riding muscles at camp then couldn't ride my own horse, but once again, her injury was a good learning opportunity. I learned about a stubborn abscess and sugardine and soaking her foot. But I also learned again what a good horse I have. She was very patient with all the soaking and the wrapping and the staying in the stall that was required. I would let her out to graze and groom her, and I know she understood that I was taking care of her, even if she didn't like being confined for so long for me to do it. And of course, the whole time, she was very pretty.

Night Skye.

So she finally recovers from the abscess, then she looks like she has a hitch in her gait on the other hind leg on Tuesday evening. AAAGH! However, both the vet and the farrier have suggested shoeing all four feet (she was barefoot and ouchy when I got her, then I moved to front shoes) to make sure she is even once and for all. I have to just face the face that some horses need four shoes on rocky uneven ground. So she is now shod on all four feet, and finally, finally, she looked sound last night.

I was working her a little in the round pen just to see how she was moving, and she is a whole different horse at liberty than she is on the lunge line.  She is so much more high strung, prone to turning around a lot and cantering without being asked, but as soon as I bow a little, she comes right in to me. I love working her at liberty (she's so pretty running!), but I need her to chill out a little. I'll start on the line and move to free work so she can see the consistency. Of course I will have to remember to provide consistency.

So now she is sound, and I may actually get to ride my horse today.

A week or two ago in the last days before the boys started back to school, I went out to the Greenway to see my horse buddies out there. The boys and I made our usual trek to the farm stand to get peach slushies and fresh vegetables, then I shanghai'ed them into going to the Greenway. They really don't give a blue toot about horses, even those at the Greenway which they have ridden, so I had to put up with a lot of moaning and groaning about visiting horses. I know, weirdos, right?

Anyway, while we were there, we saw one of my  favorite boys, Whiskey! Enjoy him with me:

I had to shoot into the sun, but you can kind of see
the tornado marking on his face. Surely you
can feel the sweetness of this boy through the
screen.

We also found the yearlings (who may be closer to two or three) that I have seen as two and three old foals. They would not stay still enough to get a decent picture of, but they were very cute. I was especially happy to see that Wrangler, who'd been so tiny at first, looking healthy though he is a little horse.

Of course, I went and visited my main men Goliath and Billy Bob, but by that time the boys' whining about being there on one of their last days of freedom had reached a fever pitch, so I didn't even take a photo of them. Truth be told, I have approximately 10,000 pictures of them already anyway.

One of the 10,000 pictures of Goliath. Not a great picture again, but
I love that face anyway.

So now Skye and I are back in business. A couple of rides over the weekend, a lesson on Tuesday than straight on to getting ready for the Greenway show in November. Hopefully.

Happy Camper!

I had so much fun at camp this past week that I feel like I should feel guilty about it.  At least I should feel guilty about gushing about it. Really, it couldn't have been better.

When I was a young teenager, a  few horsey girls I knew (who of course already had their own horses) got to go to a horse camp in Raleigh in the summer. I envied them so much that I actually got a bad taste in my mouth and a tightening in my throat when they talked about it. So when I heard about an adult horse camp, with horses and people I already knew and were crazy about, I almost couldn't believe it. The first year I signed up, I couldn't go because Dave had a conference the same week - at Disney World, in the exact year we were planning to go, so I couldn't go to camp. I didn't cry about it, but I kinda wanted to.

Then last year I did get to go, and it was wonderful. I was assigned my good friend Billy Bob, who is not the most popular horse because of his bumpy gaits, but he was perfect for me.

Billy Bob. Yes, he's cribbing.
Don't judge him.

We went on steep mountain trails and crossed a river, and rode in a big field and bareback in the ring, and I generally had a ball with his adorable self. He is one of the smartest horses I've known, and he is generally undaunted by things that scare lesser, though bigger, horses. As a matter of fact, I had such a good time, I didn't really think another week would live up to it.

I was wrong.

I was a little worried again that something would come up to keep me from going, so while I prepared for it by having work wrapped up and the laundry done, and the food bought for the family, I didn't really look forward to it in a way that would make me disappointed if I didn't get to go. I just couldn't believe I'd get to do it again.

I was wrong about that too.

Last week was so fun. I rode up with my friend Nancy, who does Adopt A Horse at the Greenway, and we had such a good time catching up that it felt like it only took 15 minutes to get there. Then we had to wait, and wait, and wait to find out which horse we were assigned. Last time, we found out as soon as we got there, but the waiting this year was actually really fun.  We grown up women don't get many good surprises anymore, so waiting a little longer to get one is better. The horses we ride at camp are all seasoned Tennessee Walking horse trail horses, so there's really not a bad horse to get.

I had asked for Goliath, but he is pretty popular because he is fun to ride, and is such a sweet and friendly boy, so I figured he would go to someone else. Also, since Billy Bob (or as I call him, William Robert) and I are happy together, I figured I might get him. But when Cory (who runs the camp) called out the names, I got that big black boy Goliath. Happiness! I adore that horse. (And yes, I did ask if I could buy him when I was looking for a horse of my own. I was told to get on the waiting list.)

Big horse with a sweet and gentle spirit.
I just love this boy so.

The first night we did a short trail to the campground, and it wasn't long before Goliath was up at the front with his gorgeous pasture mate, Diesel. Diesel is a gorgeous bay TWH with beautiful gaits. I have such a weakness for his good looks that even though we would have beautiful mountain views all week, the prettiest view was often just a few feet in front of me.

Diesel in the sun, showing how
it's done.

The next morning we split up, and several of us went into a big field that used to be used as an airplane landing strip. We were instructed to rack up and down the field. I'm not experienced at getting a gaited horse into his gait if he doesn't want to do it (Goliath does not), so I would position myself behind Delight (who was Nancy's horse for the week) or Diesel, and use their rhythm to get Goliath into his walking horse gait. He didn't do it for long, but it did get better every time.  He is pretty smooth even when he is not doing it right, so it was nothing but pure fun, riding in a straight flat field with a mountain on one side, a river on the other and blue sky with streaky white clouds up above. See, I warned you I would gush.


After that we switched off and took a trail ride. It has been raining a lot all summer, and a lot last week, so the trail was muddy and slippery and steep. At one point, we were going up beside a waterfall; at another point, we were slogging through some deep mud. It was a little scary in places, but I was never nervous because I can trust Goliath, and getting nervous doesn't do a damn bit of good anyway. I was a little relieved when it was over though.

But wait, it gets better. After dinner, we had the option to take a trail ride or do an English lesson. I still need to get my leg strength back, so I jumped at the chance for an English lesson even though it meant I wouldn't be riding Goliath.

Go ahead and fall in love with him.
Resistance is futile.

Oh my goodness. I was given a Quarter Horse named Whiskey to ride. I had heard good things about Whiskey before, and my friend Cathy, who got me into riding at the Greenway, has been telling me for years that I would love him. Let me tell you what a good time I had riding that horse. The minute I got on him, I felt like we were together, connected. He was so responsive, and willing to move, and when I cantered him, I had to keep myself from laughing like a maniac. I probably looked like The Joker riding him around that ring. And Perry, who gave the lesson and who is only 20, gave a really great lesson, having us do stretches and visualizing the correct position. Happiness! (Yes, more gushing, but you have been warned.)

The next morning I got to ride him again, and it was just like the day before. Awesomeness. I even asked Cory "how much you want for this horse?" Of course I was expecting to have him laugh in my face (not literally; Cory would never be rude, but he might laugh at me a little if I deserved it). Instead he said "make me an offer." Whaaaat? A Greenway horse for sale? After a year of my own horse giving me trouble at every ride?  I have to admit it has seriously given me something to think about because I had such a great time on that horse.

Whiskey is his name, being
awesome is his game.

We had another great trail ride (not treacherous this time), and another great ride in the field. Then Tuesday evening, we rode some of the smoothest horses bareback. Bareback night is always fun, not just because we have fun riding, but because we all watch and encourage each other. One camper rode bareback for the first time. Another did it and reminded herself (in spite of herself!) how good at it she actually is. It's wonderful to watch someone conquer a fear and smile about it. I am not the great bareback rider I was in my youth, but I still think there is nothing like it, and I want to get good at it again. I rode all three of the horses they got out for us, Spirit, the wonderful Delilah and Clyde, who almost rivals Goliath for sweetness. I didn't do much more than walk (I can so easily picture an undignified slide into a manure pile), but I loved it anyway.

It rained Wednesday morning, but then cleared after lunch, and we all got a good long ride in anyway. Then in the afternoon we all gathered on the porch and talked. Talked horses, talked kids and laughed. And felt very lucky.

Wednesday evening, Cathy and I went down to say good-bye to the horses. Goliath and Billy Bob (who Cathy had been assigned after her favorite boy Prankster showed up with a sore shoulder) were the first and last to visit us, being the probably the friendliest of the bunch.

Friends. Sort of. And stop judging Billy Bob.
We all have our bad habits.

Then we got a last minute treat - new horse friends! There are horses that live on the mountain for year round trail rides. They live at the barn except during the summer when the Greenway horses are there for camp. We see them in the pastures when we ride past, but this night, the Greenway horses were put in the field we had been riding in, and the mountain horses were in the pasture right across a gravel road from each other. We saw them check each other out across the road, all pricked ears and alertness. Very cute. We watched them from the swinging bridge over the river, where we had hung out and had a good talk after visiting our four-legged friends.

Swinging, baby, yeah!

So we went down and loved on them as well, and fell instantly in love with them. I'm glad I got to meet them before we left.

One of the mountain horses checking out the intruders.

The intruders from the Greenway checking out the
mountain horses. They can't believe we're fraternizing with the enemy.
Billy Bob is already bored with them; he is the one grazing on the left.

We had a wonderful breakfast the next morning, then headed for home. It couldn't have been better.

I'll hold this image in my mind until next year.
Everything looks wonderful from here.

And she ran, she ran so far away

So after my wonderful weeks with Skye where she was following me around the pasture, then the week where she was questioning me a little after she was top of the heap o' mares in her pasture, I was ready for the other shoe to drop.  It did.

Lovely, huh? Not so fast . . . .

Yes, she looks beautiful there, doesn't she? So peaceful and happy with her new servant Caroline there beside her. This is how I found her when I went to get her on Tuesday evening. I walked up to her, and as I started to put the halter on her, she wheeled away and trotted off. So I then chased after her, and kept her feet moving for a good bit, figuring if she wanted to go, I should make her go. I'd also heard from several different sources that if they run from you, you need to take charge and chase them until they want to stop. The obvious problem with that scenario is 1) horses can run faster and further than people and 2) pastures are big.

So she and her minions, i.e. every horse in the pasture, cantered down to the gate, with me huffing and puffing behind.  When I got close to Skye, I just looked her and gave her my "are you kidding me?" look, which I swear she understands. We stood looking at each other for what felt like several long moments. Then she moved her left front leg almost imperceptibly in my direction. Good enough. I stepped forward and put the halter on her.

Leading her out of the pasture, I was diligent in my leading, not giving her any room for anything disrespectful but not in an angry way. At first I was amazed at my patience, but then I realized something - I thought it was funny. I had seen that this kind of something was coming, but I also knew that in reality it had very little to do with me, and everything with her new boss mare attitude. Yes, I am going to have to be more authoritative with her, as her respect is a little harder to come by, but I probably needed to do that anyway. Now it's not an option.

I took her directly to the round pen for what I call "listening lessons," ground work to get her remembering I'm the brains of the operation. She was a little resistant at first, but she came around pretty quickly, and was relaxed and rhythmic enough at the trot for me to have her canter a little as well.  In the past, she would get nervous at the canter, but as she gets in better shape, I need for her to canter to get used to doing it again. And she sure as hell had felt like cantering when she was running away from me.

While we were out there, Erin started spraying an insect fogger in the arena. Skye did not like this at all. She stopped stock still and stared at it, then glanced at me, then stared again. I put myself between her and evil fogger, grabbing at the opportunity to position myself as her protector.

"What the hell is that? I better get behind this woman that chased me around earlier."

She was funny because she was both interested and nervous. When Erin came around the other side of the round pen with the fogger, I crossed over to talk her.  A moment later, I felt breath on my neck. Skye had come up behind me to get a better look at the sprayer, trying to hide behind me as she did it. Now, I could certainly stand to lose weight, but I'm pretty sure a horse cannot truly hide behind me.

I lunged her a little in the arena over the cavalettis to work her back, then picked her feet, sprayed her for flies and put her back. As we approached the pasture gate, her attitude began to deteriorate again, so I backed her a couple of steps, then led her in and moved her around a little once inside the pasture. When I let her go, she let me pat her good-bye then she walked off. She moved up into a trot and headed back to her beloved herd.

This might seem like a small thing, but the fact that I just accepted it and dealt with it instead of taking it so personally is a huge step for me, and therefore for my Skye.

I'm heading out to the barn in a few minutes for a lesson with Sara. We'll see if I'm so content about it if she does it again.

Return of the Queen

Yes, as the title suggests, Skye has been returned to her rightful position as Queen of the Pasture. I always love observing herd dynamics, and this recent move to a pasture full of mares has been very interesting to watch.

Mare herd. It looks like Tahoe is bowing to Her Highness.

Skye was alpha in the group of three mares she was with when I bought her, then again lead mare in the Greenway pasture (though secondary to Magic, her big black TWH boyfriend).  She was a very good alpha in what we called the Pony Herd, because several of the horses in there were small. The Pony Herd needed a good alpha as Ginger was running the show, and though we all love Ginger, she is a bit of a bully when she is in charge (not that I'm comparing her to Dolores Umbridge, but you get my drift. And if you don't know who Umbridge is, go get out your Harry Potter for Pete's sake).

When Leo was put in the Pony Herd, he and Skye fell in love at first sight. This brought out the bully in Ginger, who had no intention of giving up her second place status, and it brought out an attitude in Skye that I can only describe as "I don't care about nothing but my man." She and Leo became their own herd and the others became their own herd under Ginger's nefarious leadership. This also led to extreme buddy sourness with Ginger and Reebok. At that point, Erin decided that things needed to change, and she separated the herds into geldings and mares. In a smaller mare herd with Ginger, Skye was suddenly beta. I hate to admit it, but it was hard to see her bossed around by Ginger.  However, I could tell that Skye was only going to take so much from Ginger, but that Ginger strangely could not see this.

Then Erin moved the small mare herd in with the larger one in the huge pasture. Skye got some scrapes and kicks, and we were all holding our breath hoping Skye would be boss mare, since she is a good one. She is respectful and well-behaved, and neither bullies nor tolerates bullying in her herd. Alas, it appears that the ladies all formed three distinct cliques, and Skye was not the boss of any of them. Ginger still ruled in her little pod.

Enter Caroline, a new palomino mare. Erin introduced Caroline to Symphony first, letting them hang together in the round pen for a day to get to know each other. Then she swapped out Symphony for Skye. Skye instantly became alpha to Caroline, then took that attitude back into the big pasture. I suspected Skye had pushed her way to the top, then confirmed it yesterday at the water trough. Skye took her place, and all the horses, including the leaders of the group, made way for Her Royal Highness to come through. Then they drank in the order she allowed, as she drank first then didn't object when the leaders drank beside her, but she swung her head and flattened her ears at bit at the yearlings and Phoenix (who just turned 3 but has a bit of an alpha personality). Skye also keeps looking back at her herd, feeling responsibility for them. Girlfriend is back on top.

No need to curtsy. She's not a very formal monarch.
Obviously, since she is sticking her tongue out
in this picture. 

But not so fast, that's not all good. Just when Skye and I were very simpatico, all this happens and now she is challenging my authority since she is now remembering she's pretty damn good at being in charge. So, she has been in a bit of bitchy mood (which may have been partially based on being in heat) and not respectful. However, I feel like I have a lot more tools in my arsenal to keep her respectful without being a jerk to her. I just need to remember to apply them in the pasture when I get her.

Nevertheless, I have had very good days with her lately. Saturday I lunged her over the ground poles and groomed her and let her graze nearby while I talked. Yesterday, I tacked her up, lunged her a bit to get her respect back, then took her for a short and lovely trail ride. She really wanted to go back most of the time, but she still listened to me, and I used her energy to my advantage in letting her march forward nicely and use her back over the dead limbs and little ditches.

Plus, I like that my mare is Queen. I just like it.

Relationship Status

So I started this blog with the intention of tracking my progress with taking Skye from a borderline neglected horse to realizing her potential as a great trail partner and arena horse, then when things really get rolling and improve, I get too busy to write! Aagh. Because quite a bit has been happening, I'm doing three posts in a row.

Anyway, although it has been a while since I wrote on here, partially from vacation, spending time at the barn and the pool and lolling about on my back deck with a beer in hand, I really do want to relate my progress so I can see the continuum of her training and my evolution as hopefully a better horsewoman.

Hard to believe this gorgeous girl would need to progress into being a
better horse, but we are working on it anyway.

I have been continuing to work with Sara on getting Skye in better shape. My girl seemed to have two problems under saddle. First, she didn't seem to want to give to the bit. We suspect she was just jerked around a bit before she came to me but had not really gotten the concept of the bit as a means of communication instead of "the thing that must be avoided because it jerks me around." I totally understood this, as that theory matched her behavior to a t. My reaction to that had been to give her a completely loose rein, assuming she would learn over time that I am never going to jerk her in the mouth. My soft hands are one aspect of my riding that I am particularly proud of. I was taught to ride without stirrups or reins, so leaning on them or against them has never been my problem.

However, Sara has pointed out to me that since I don't jerk on her mouth, I can teach her to trust me by making soft contact and using it as communication more than for steering. This has been excellent advice, as Skye's reaction to the bit has improved by leaps and bounds.

Skye's second problem is the hollowing of her back. Part of that is the reaction to the bit, but it is also somewhat related to lack of strength in her back. So Sara has helped me work her with side reins, over trot poles and getting her to go forward at a nice marching walk with contact, which is helping her round up at least for short periods. I also do some exercises with her to engage her hind quarters, and have taken her on a couple of trail rides, particularly on hilly terrain to help her. This is helping slowly, but we have had so damn much rain that the trail rides have been less frequent than anyone at the barn would like.

All this is to say that I am finally enjoying riding my horse. Ever since I moved to my present barn, I have been enjoying her presence and working with her, and having pride in how beautiful she is, and how well behaved on the ground. But riding her was stressful.  But now I am back to remembering why I wanted to buy her in the first place. Because she has great spirit, great potential and she's intelligent and kind. And pretty. Pretty counts for horses.

Peaceful. And pretty.

When I worked with a different trainer last summer, Skye's attitude toward me worsened. The trainer told me that was to be expected since we were making her work. Not so now. Although she has her off days, not a one has been as bad as a typical day last summer when I couldn't get her out of the pasture without a struggle with her balking every ten feet and planting, or pulling back like a mad thing, or just generally giving off an "I hate you" vibe. There were several days I cried driving away from her pasture last summer, as it was the opposite of the experience I wanted.

Now, she knows I am her person, and she likes it that way. I recently went roaming around her pasture hunting for her fly mask, and she followed along beside me every step of the way. It just filled me up. She walks up to me in the pasture, and now that she is in a different pasture, she tends to graze right across from my van. Yes, I know it's probably a coincidence, or at best a recognition of where the treat machine comes from, but I like it anyway. And Skye loves Sara. Skye watches every move she makes with a soft alert expression, never the annoyance or fear I saw with the other trainer. Sara has her own barn and website. Here it is:

http://partnershipequestriancenter.com

Best of all, I have really begun to enjoy riding her. We're still working it out, but she is getting in better shape, and is trusting me that I'm not punishing her, I'm teaching her what we can do.

Just for the record though, I still miss Reebok and the dinkies.

Wild Wild Horses

While on our annual beach trip to our own version of paradise, Emerald Isle, NC, Laeti (our former au pair whom I call my French daughter but who now lives in London and works like a dog but gets to meet famous British people with some regularity) and I decided to embark on a trip to Shackleford Banks. Shackleford  Banks is an uninhabited island just off the mainland across from Beaufort, North Carolina, which is one the oldest towns in the state. Descendants of Spanish horses brought over during the initial European arrivals to North Carolina live wild on the island, so it's even more worth the trip for me. The horses are pony-sized because the conditions and nutrition on the island, so they are often called Banker ponies, as Shackleford Banks, as well as other islands along the NC coast line, are all part of the Outer Banks. (For folks outside of NC, or for folks not from the coast, the area called "the Outer Banks"  by tourists is further north, and the area we visit is considered the southern Outer Banks.)
 

Skye and Laeti. Laeti knows a good thing when
she see it!

Laeti, my other French daughter Morgane (I'm so lucky; I have two!) and I took this trip several years ago, and trekked for what seemed like forever in 98 degree (F) heat and finally found a herd in the center of the island. This time Morgane was not with us (we missed her!), but my son George came with us since his twin brother Sam went fishing with his dad.

We took a ferry over from Beaufort, and ride was beautiful. When we last went across the sound there, Laeti, the boys and I had gone over to Cape Lookout, and we saw dolphins playing in the water beside the boat, sea turtle tracks from a nest on Shackleford and the ponies taking a dip off the beach. This time nothing of note happened, but it was just lovely all the same.

They let us off at the end of the island, and remembering our last trip, we headed around the sound side (side facing the mainland) which we now knew the ponies preferred. We started looking casually for shells as we walked and before we knew it, we had handfuls of our favorites. My favorite shell is Sinum perspectivum, whose common name is Baby's Ear. Take a look and you can see why.

My favorite shell.

For years I rarely found one, but this year I found over 50. George and Laeti found a lot for me and a lot of others as well.

Just as we started to put a little life in our step to go on a pony safari, Laeti spotted a dark horse about 500 yards away. Excitement! Yes, I see horses all the time, but seeing a wild one in nature is still a thrill. We headed in that direction and even after we lost sight of him or her, we knew we were on right track because . ..

Hoofprints in the sand! Thrilling.
My unpedicued foot, not so thrilling.

We're just like Aragorn in Lord of the Rings with our tracking skills, aren't we? We don't miss a thing! You would think having seen this, we would not be surprised to look up and see, literally right in front of us . . .

 A wild pony. Her name is Ariel, which is just another way that she is perfect.

Yet, somehow we were surprised, perhaps because we thought that the ponies would somehow give a toot that we were standing there and move away. Happily, they did not. We backed off a little to make sure they didn't feel threatened just in case they were just pretending that they couldn't care less.

Almost immediately two young women dressed in what looked like Steve Irwin outfits walked up. They were students from Princeton studying the horses for the summer, and needed to gather some of the ponies' poop for analysis. We asked them a couple of questions, but they weren't very forthcoming. Not so much because they had a secret mission, but it felt a little like "you wouldn't understand." This could have been Princeton attitude or perhaps just Yankee attitude. I was tempted to say "I've been coming here since before you were born, young lady!" But that sounded old and crotchety, so instead I mentioned how I had seen a sea turtle lay her eggs on Shackleford when I was my son's age. The one I told just nodded. I'd rather be my age and thrilled to see a wild pony than be her age and not thrilled by anything. Her job beats the Hell out of mine though. (I would in fact rather roam the beach searching for pony poop than be stuck in an office, but that's a long story for another day.)

Then as we were walking away, we spotted something else interesting.

In case you can't read it, it says "Edward Daniel Brown, Beloved Son." Obviously a gravestone or memorial of some type. Very curious. This was just a matter of feet from the water's edge, so it wasn't the wisest choice of gravesite, what with the constantly shifting sands and all. In any case, this is a testament to the fact that someone very much loved Edward Daniel Brown, and I saw the evidence of it. And now so have you. Mission accomplished.

From there, we trekked through the hot and sandy interior of the island hoping to catch sight of another herd. After a far amount of stoicism from Laeti and me and a far amount of complaining from George, we were rewarded.

Another herd. That's Beaufort in the distance.

George got tired of looking at horses pretty quickly. And yet he is related to me. Weird, huh? We continued on through the dunes separating us from the ocean, then arrived on the unspoiled beach to eat our lunch.

George on this unspoiled beach. He magically transformed into his ebullient self after
some Oreos and water. Amazing!

We then played around on the beach and looked for, and found, a bunch of shells. We then left too late to catch our ferry, requiring us to race in an undignified manner to get our trip back to the mainland. It would take more than that to spoil a day like that though.

To learn more about the ponies at Shackleford Banks, go to:

http://www.shacklefordhorses.org

We also have wild horses in the northern Outer Banks. To learn more about them, go to:

http://www.corollawildhorses.com