Part 2 Adventures in Trailering and Circles at the Canter

Now where was I?

Oh yes, I was watching in horror as a young lady walked into a herd of seven or so horses with a bucket of grain to catch her gorgeous but too smart for her quarter horse. Trail Rider looked at the pasture where much chaos was ensuing.

"You know what this is?"

I nodded. "Horse catching 101."

He handed me his horse (now I was holding Lily, Woody, and Smokey. I'm good, but I'm not that good. I wandered over to a spot to tie them up) and TR was off to try to make sure no one got killed.

He proceeded to show her how to catch her horse, using a technique Julie Goodnight uses. I like to call it "You are the Last Horse I Want to Have Near Me."

In short order the mare got the message and turned to be caught.

I sympathized, having had to chase my own horse down on occassion. Some women take this pretty personally, in my experience. "My horse doesn't like me!" I know I used to.

These days I don't think it's about being liked or disliked, per se. I'd say there are many, many things potentially going on: pain from a previous session (this horse had been ridden in the wrong bit last time out), bad timing (it's grain time, not riding time), "respect," and sometimes the "don't wannas." And sure, maybe sometimes your horse doesn't "like" you. Sometimes you might not like him either. Like when he's running around a 3 acre field refusing to be caught, for example.

After that and a brief lunging session with another horse, we loaded Smokey and Lily up with Woody and headed over to TR's place to switch out horses. DH stayed back to finish tire repair, and was off for more motorcycle time.

Smokey and Lily dashed around with some concern in TR's paddock, shared grain, and sniffed at the neighbor's horses while we got Lola and Vaquero ready. Lola is the horse with the stifle issue who also tends to be a kicker at other horses. Vaquero is a Paso Fino that TR bought when his back issues were making it tough to ride.

We headed over to the ranch sorting practice at Cibolo. I've ridden there before, mostly just in circles and once helping "push" cattle. I feel worlds away from the rider I was back then. I was so uncertain of everything. Every. Thing.

Now, it's not so much that I'm certain, but I'm not worried like I used to be. When I warmed up Lola in the round pen and brought her up to a canter, I just smiled. There's no fear there. Even though I don't know Lola very well (I'd never ridden her before, other than the brief five minutes a week after TR brought her home), I was confident in my aides, my hands, and in her.

oh god, don't let my mother see me slouching.

There's no fear. You know, this horse thing is a hell of a lot more fun when you aren't scared.

Don't get me wrong, I still respect the dangers, the things that can happen. I know a blow up can happen on even the most solid horse. But I know it in the same way I know I could be in a car accident. I don't expect it any more, I don't look for it, but I proceed with all due attention without the rigidity that comes from anticipating the worst.

I don't clench the steering wheel... er ... reins.

We walked into the arena and met a friend of TRs, A, who was there to try his hand at sorting. He's been taking lessons and TR convinced him to come on out. I would do two rides, since I'm a woman on a budget, A would ride out with TR on a couple.

TR on Vaquero, with his uber cool mecate set up.

I had to take back all the mean things I ever said about Lola. TR has been hard at work conditioning her and she rode perfectly. We worked a bit on her buddy sour issue, but it only took a bit of urging from me to get her rolling out (she initially gave A a tough time with this, but she probably realized he was a newbie, and gave him the mare eye roll). TR has high expectations of his horses and is willing to put in the time to get them to their potential. She was a great ride.

TR and I had one awful run, but our second one was much better. We actually got two or three of the calves we were trying for that time! LOL! Given that neither one of us was on a terribly experienced horse, (lord knows the horses didn't have the most experienced rider, at least as far as I go) we felt good with that last run. A had a tough time in the sorting pen, but enjoyed taking Lola out on a ride around the arena.

The best part is that I rode two different horses in one day. I'd have ridden longer if given the option but even the best days come to an end. I felt like a kid that just doesn't get enough, no matter how many hours they spend in the saddle. It was way, way too short.

Since Friday I've worked with Smokey on his canter circles, and while he was a certifiable MESS on Sunday, Monday he wasn't half bad. He was far more willing, and I didn't get any of the really bad behavior (like Sunday when he almost plowed into my daughter at the other end of the arena on Cody). Steering was improved slightly, on Monday I found I'm catching things earlier - less chance of plowing into someone that way), and he is going at the trot collected for longer and longer. I'm figuring out where to hold the reins so he has some contact, but not so loose that he swings his head around in confusion.

I need to remember how much time all this takes, and to take every bit of it (no pun intended). Rushing is no good for either one of us.

And even if I could ride all day, I have to give him soaking time.

We all need soaking time...

Adventures in Trailering and Circles at the Canter

I took Friday off from work, and decided to devote the afternoon and evening to horse related activities. I texted Trail Rider and he was able to get the day off as well.

I nearly imploded from excitement.

Instead, both my trailer tires imploded on the way over.

But wait, I wasn't supposed to tell you that yet. I was supposed to build up the suspense, yada yada.

The plan was to meet at my old barn, which is open again and filled with horses. There's even a waiting list. I love riding there, the arena is fabulous and I enjoy Sharon so much. So I was looking forward to getting there. There was a possibility that DH would be joining us, so I loaded Lily as well as Smokey.

She hasn't been sound at the trot, but I decided to try using a pain med a vet had given me to use before work. Given that I am running out of options (she is still on adequan, it seemed worth trying - I'd been resistant because I don't want to merely mask the problem. But my ability to get this diagnosed AGAIN is... well, let's just say I'm focusing on keeping the hay flowing right now.

Still time off is not working. She's crabby mare, which is who she was when we first got her. Lily needs to be involved, engaged, doing something.

We were about halfway there when a guy in a white pick up pulled up beside me at a light.

"You've blown a tire," he said.

I checked the mirror, but couldn't really see the tire. I pulled over once I was past the light and hopped out there it was. Shredded.

Thank god I had a double axle trailer. I looked at the spare. It didn't look much better.

"Do you have a jack?" the guy had pulled over behind me. This is what I like about Texas. I know how to change a tire, but have only had to do so twice in my life because a guy always stops and helps.

I do, but it's complicated. See, I can't open the tail gate in DH's truck because the handle is broken. DH opens it no problem but my little thin fingers are lousy levers. Lucky this guy, Tony, was gifted with big fingers as well.

I called Trail rider and DH (who was riding his iron horse - the harley) and gave them an update. Needless to say, I was going to be late.

We got the tire on. Oddly, Tony admonished me for pulling over and not checking the tire from inside the truck (I couldn't see it from there). "I could have been a bad guy" said Tony, concerned. I pointed out that I immediately got on my cell phone and we were on a busy enough road in broad daylight. And I had to see what was happening. Then he confessed that he has a young daughter and always worries about these things.

"Don't go far, that spare has dry rot," he said as he drove off.

I just had ten miles to go. And I was too far from my home barn now. I put it in drive and headed off.

And made it about five miles before the spare blew.

I made my calls and said I'd be limping in, but at this point I was going to try to get there. Let me tell you, a shredded tire kicks up an enormous amount of dust, even at 10 miles an hour.

I got there forty five minutes behind schedule, but determined. Determined to ride like crazy. You don't come in on three tires and sit on your bumper, mourning your lost treads!

I saddled both horses and tied Lily (she eventually had to be moved to a patience tree, since she decided to paw). Smokey and I rode with Trail Rider, warming up. Then TR put me through some paces.

What I wanted to accomplish was canter circles. Since steering remains such an issue - at the canter, I think we're solid at the trot - it's the area I need the most practice. A few weeks ago I asked the trainer/barn owner to ride Smokey so I could see what I was doing wrong.

I saw it immediately. I had too much play in the reins. With me, Smokey was at a loss on where to hold his head. I would pull them in, play them out, but with she kept the reins a more consistent length and much shorter than I do. Even at the canter. And she worked on catching the problem at the turn much earlier. That's what I needed to do. Anticipate and compensate.

TR demonstrated perfect canter circles on Woody and we attempted to follow. The trot was lovely, I had to work a bit on collection, because being in a new place Smokey was definitely "up" in head as well as in spirit. After far more trot circles than should be needed, I'd get him into the canter, which he started by throwing his head fairly high. Almost like a kick start. Once going he has a rocking horse canter, but he gets into swinging his head around oddly. It was ugly looking, but really, what do I expect? We've only done this a few times. And now we were doing it - a lot. He was getting annoyed at one point, but I kept my cool and we worked through the crow hop, cow kick and a buck threat.

I wish I could say by the end we were doing great. But we weren't. We were mediocre. Even that is probably a stretch. But it was a vast improvement from where we started.

I keep reminding myself this is where we used to be at the TROT. I am making progress. When DH arrived he elected to take care of the tire issue instead of ride. I knew he felt bad that I had a hard time, since he sees trailer maintenance as his job. But honestly with the six months we have had, it's a wonder we're both still walking. So he brought back two tires as we finished up but encourage me to hit the road. Given the time, Lily ended up not getting ridden, but it was okay. Sometimes you have to go through the motions. The plan was now that Lily and Smokey would have a slumber party at TR's place. I'd move them back home in the morning.

Because I wasn't done with horse time. No sir. We had another horse activity planned.

Ranch Sorting.

Of course before we left we had a bit of drama, things I've forgotten how much fun they are to deal with. Like watching someone try to catch their horse, then reacting with horror when seeing them inexplicably walking into an entire herd of horses with a bucket of grain.

But you'll have to wait for Part 2. Cuz this cowgirl is sackin' out for the night!

Sometimes he's hard to love

(sure he looks all sweaty like some sort of horse that was actually cooperative or something. but it's all an illusion)

Trust me, there was very little to love about Canyon today.

You know those ads that say you can have the horse turned out in the pasture for months then come out for a ride and it'll be the same as if you were riding 'em every day?

That's not my horse.

I went out to the stables tonight. It was a beautiful late afternoon, the sky a perfect azure with a scattering of clouds hinting at more rain. It was cool but not windy, quiet but not eerily still.

It was perfect.



Apparently I was alone in this assessment.



I knew I was in trouble when we stepped in the round pen. There it was. The buck.

I know, I know, people say a buck in the round pen when you're just getting started is no big deal. But I know this horse. A buck means it's going to be one of those "let's re-establish this whole herd thing for the next three hours" thing.

So that's what we did. I rode down the road and he was blowing sideways at the reflector. Which apparently has recently become threatening. It went down hill from there.

Sensing his insanity, I got off just past the gate and started to line lunge him because he was just too distracted and nothing was working in the saddle. He was so freaked out he ran nearly sideways in the circle, even did a little tiny rear at one point.

We kept walking, stopping to lunge and work on ground manners, try to maintain a tiny bit of focus. I think I brought him down from a 9.9 to a 9.8 or 9.875.

Crazy. On the way back I got back on and he was jigging like a maniac. I had to turn him so much I briefly wondered if I'd be better off on a merry go round horse.

(Canyon with his "you're not the boss of me" face on.)

Then back in the round pen for a work out and some side pass work. I'm trying to teach him to side pass and had some new techniques to try. We had a millimeter of success.

By the end of our round pen session and during our walk back, he was down to a manageable level. 9.7 at least.

Just kidding.

And, to add insult to ... well, insult, since there was no injury, he knocked me on the head. Not that hard, really, but clearly he was crowding me.

That was it. I backed him hard, "bit" him, and then moved him around. He snapped a bit back into place.

Then he got a bath and a nice long lesson in patience.

I know how we got here. I haven't been able to ride and it's much too long between our sessions. This is what happens with him. I wish I could maintain leadership, but I guess the lack of consistency is really problematic.

There is good news: In my experience the next ride after one like this is usually great.


We'll see. Humph. Dumb ol' horse.

The Great Escape

PART ONE: It started out so well.

photo : before the Great Escape

Once a month I get a day off from Mommyhood and get a full day to be self indulgent with horses. So far our group at the stables has taken three all day trail rides and this last Sunday we were set for the fourth. Sharon (who owns the stables and is our daughters' official adopted grandmother) and I were on our own this trip and decided to try out a new place to ride - Guadalupe State Park.

I've been to the park many times, once for a picnic and photo session, another time for a Halloween community party. (We also had our truck fill up with bees once, but that's another story.)

It's a great park, but I never knew it had equestrian trails. Sharon was set to ride out on Rudy's new horse, Woody/Woodrow, since one of her mares is pregnant and the other has a colt running at her heels.

We were also fortunate that we met up by chance with Jennifer Hamlett who has been to the stables a few times and was out there on a photo shoot. She was sweet enough to take pictures of us on our horses, and after feeling a little extra self indulgent posing there for a professional photographer, we rode off.

We had a great two hour ride in the park. We got lost, confused by a numbering system that didn't even exist on our map. The dotted line looked nothing like the dozens of twists and turns we were on. It's also pretty rocky terrain in places, and we gingerly tried to steer our horses around the worst patches like they were a pair of ballerinas instead of 1000 pound animals that wear steel on their toes. Still, it was beautiful as you can see in the photo above - that's Sharon with Woody.

Canyon did really well, although he wasn't too crazy about the asphalt part of the trip. It took a little convincing for him to get past the point the trail crosses the park road. But other than that it was just perfect. We got back without incident, jazzed about the beautiful ride.

Then we...

Well, see, there was all this grass, and we had already taken their saddles off, got them some water and were trying just to put stuff up. Sharon had her lead rope down and I thought, well, I just need to start the truck...

Okay. Here's the deal. It was hot and we were pretty hungry and tired ...

I mean there was all this gorgeous grass! Why would you, if you were a grazing kind of guy, the kind of guy that leaves your head buried in the hay rack all day, every day, until you had a huge grass belly, why would you even consider ...

Suffice it to say, I forgot one of my favorite sayings: Trust in Allah, but tie your camels at night. Apparently this applies to day time and horses, too.

Before I even made it to the truck door, Canyon took his head out of that yummy grass, looked over toward the road and started to trot off. Then Woody lifted his head, looked at Canyon, shrugged, and trotted after him.

We ran after them, calling. They responded by trotting away from us. Faster.

(I'd like to point out that both of these horses are very easy to catch, come right up to you in the pasture. I've never had to chase either of them down.)

I ran back to the truck and tried to catch up to our crazy geldings as Sharon tried to run after them. For a brief moment it looked like it would all be over. They actually came up to a guy in the parking lot, but since Canyon was high stepping and acting so nervous, the guy declined to pick up the lead rope. By the time we got there it was too late. Canyon and Woody were headed toward the park exit, trotting down the road, dragging their very long lead ropes behind them. Aren't they suppose to STEP ON THOSE THINGS?

I couldn't get it out of my head that this was the same horse I had to turn three times to get him to even CROSS the road an hour earlier. Suddenly he was Mr. Asphalt Runway.

We drove down the road trying to spot them. We got to the gate and were told by a pick up truck full of tubers that they had veered off the road back into the woods, possibly discouraged by the cattle guard at the park entrance.

Right then my heart sank. These are thick scrub woods of the Texas Hill Country, visibility in most places is about 20 feet. You can get turned around in a second. We jumped out and ran into the woods, but there was absolutely no sign of them.

They were gone.

Photo: Juniper, Live Oak, Cedar and cactus. And enough rock to break a leg on.

(Tomorrow, PART TWO)