Riding a dream and finding our way

This is Cody. and he made one dream come true today. There's my daughter's best friend on his back.

And here's Lily in mid grass grab.

Lily is always careful around kids.

Mireya riding Cody, the Wonder Horse

Mireya, who the last time I tried to get to overcome her fear had a major meltdown, faced her fear today. And rode one whole circle.

It helped immensely that her best friend rode and Cody plodded happily along.

Cody has been passed around quite a bit in his life and I often wonder about what his life has been like. He's not a total dead head. He'll canter when called upon and, more importantly, plod when a scared little girl is riding.

Thank you Cody.

Today was Lily's first day out of the stall and boy, did it show in the round pen. Bucking, tiny little rears, charging around. I hope the fact we were working in the round pen made it "light work." But it's such a relief to see her feeling better.

Then it was time to take the next step.

Today I played with Smokey.

We worked in the round pen. Couldn't quite get the join up and since the kids were around I couldn't really focus on it. He did well, though, and I worked him through his gaits.

We lead around a bit. Very well behaved.

Then it was time for a ride...

Which I'll write about tomorrow...

The Search For My Next Horse is Over

Tonight I ended my search for my next horse.

Yes, TR and I drove, along with my ever suffering husband (ESH) an hour and a half to see this horse.

10 yr Old Palomino Gelding

Grade horse, calm disposition, had been sitting for 3 years. This trainer, Dave, took on this horse and in the last month has spent time putting a handle back on it. Chester was a handsome horse and as I saw Dave ride him I was pretty sure he wasn't the kind of horse I needed.

First of all, watching Dave ride was amazing. This man rides like the rancher I wrote about at the Kathleen Lindley clinic (you can read about him here and here). I love watching a good rider.

He said that when he first got this horse he was worried how bad it would be because it had been with women. He noted that women make a real mess of horses, at least from the area these women were from (which shall go nameless since I don't want Dave dive bombed).

"They're all 'oh poor horse' when the horse is stepping all over them. Tell you what, your horse won't be calling 911 when he breaks your foot" (Note: this is not an exact quote. I was a little surprised and wasn't taking copious notes at that point.)

Of course it reminded me of the session in the clinic where Kathleen discussed all the dangerous "natural horsemanship trained" horses. Lousy ground manners always shock me. Heck ground manners are the easy part.

Dave cruised around the round pen in the saddle and described how he had worked the horse, what he liked about him. He admitted the horse needs finishing. Some head tossing, some holes here and there. The palomino was incredibly bright though, and has a great disposition, and I liked his nature once I got in with him.

TR rode him for me and put him through the paces. He could see the diamond in the rough on this horse, saying later - that is going to be one heck of a horse. TR got him to lower his head a little better, showed that nice slow canter.

Then I got in. I worked the palomino on the ground for a moment and then stepped into a saddle that Dave had won this year that looks like it's been ridden in for 10 years, not 5 months.

Up in the gallery area around the round pen Dave made a few comments about a guy that was out who didn't know what he was doing and how he didn't tell him anything because the guy said he knew everything.

As the palomino and I started our first few strides, I struggled with the split reins. I never ride in them and had no clue what to do. "Listen, you tell me what I'm doing wrong, because I need to hear it."

Hoo boy. Did I hear it.

--------------

Way back, in the Canyon days I wrote this:

As good as Canyon is on the ground, and as good as we seem to connect, he's not all the way there. This horse seems connected with me, but it's not there in the saddle. I can lead him into anything and he'll follow me around the arena, back, turn, everything without a touch on the lead line. But it's not translating when I get on his back.

And I keep feeling this way. It was precisely the same with Cibolo. Things didn't come apart on the ground. They came apart in the saddle. And I know that I am doing something wrong.

Over and over and over.

And it's not about softness, per se.

Clinton Anderson talks about the three things it takes to keep a horse broke: wet saddle blankets, training, and speed. If you only have one, you have a mess. (For example, race horses have plenty of speed, but never get the miles of wet saddle blankets or the training time in ground work or body carriage)

I'd say for me I'm looking at a similar dynamic. I have one thing down : ground work. But ground work you can learn from a magazine, and a book. It's mostly a brain thing. Riding in a saddle is something that you can't learn, or at least I can't, from reading and watching videos. You have to build a sense of your self in the saddle, of how to work your legs, your split reins, your body. It takes the combo of lessons and miles. Of which I have far too little of both.

----------------

Based on the barrage I got from Dave (all done bluntly but not unkindly), I knew that I had driven an hour and a half to hear this. This man, who I'd met on the phone, who could actually text on his phone while he was riding a cantering horse, who rode in a 5 month old saddle so much that it was completely broken in, this man was telling me what I needed to hear.

As I stroked the Palomino's face afterwards, the same face that kept deciding he could look outside the pen because I wasn't in charge in that saddle, Dave looked me in the eye. "You can have a broke horse, but you can unbreak a horse if you don't know what you're doing. If you can't give him the signals he's been trained with."

And at that moment I knew my search for my horse was over.

Because I have to learn how to ride first. Otherwise I will unwind another horse.

So instead of paying board on a second horse, I'm taking TRs advice. Lessons. For at least 3 months. Maybe by then I'll be ready.

As I search for a trainer I hope I can find someone as blunt as Dave. He's a little too far for me to travel to for lessons and I don't know if he even does that. But I'm staying away from people/trainers who will tell me only what I want to hear.

Because I'm on this journey to make some progress. Trust me, my ego can handle the bruising.

And I'll be damned if I don't turn this around.

Bringing him home

The plan was to take pictures of the entire thing.

The drive. Here's a shot of the road.



You might want to look at it again, because that was the only picture I got of picking him up.

The only one. Well, I accidentally took a picture of the truck floor mats, but I'm sparing you that...

We left later than I hoped, a typical occurrence around here. Kids needed to be packed up and I was so over the top excited that I couldn't think straight. I was forgetting everything and constantly running back and forth.

As it turned out it was just me and Adam for the trip - the kids bailed to be in A/C and spongebob with Grammy. This wasn't a bad thing, we miss traveling together. Adam and I met rock climbing and sometimes our favorite part of climbing was the drive to get there.

This was a good thing since it's a 3 hour drive to pick up the horse.

When we got there, there he was, tied to a hitching post. Audrey met us there and was riding her horses in the arena - June Bug, her quarter horse, and ponying a beautiful young bay Irish draft (who's name escapes me).

I was a little nervous. Would he be the same? And, perhaps stupidly, would he still like me?

He was exactly as he was before. He followed me around with his eyes, at one point leaning against the hitching post trying to get a little closer. Even Adam was surprised. "He's just like Canyon was with you!"

My pocket pony. Just what I hoped for.

We loaded him in the trailer, which took a few tries since he's used to a larger trailer, grabbed some lunch and headed home. At one point we opened the window because he seemed awfully cramped, but he literally stuck his head out as far as it would go and I was sure he was going to get it chopped off.

He is, apparently, part giraffe. We literally had to push his head back in.

Then, at home when we released the but bar he calmly turned around in the trailer to come out. LOL. Guess it wasn't so small after all.


He greeted everyone with a high pitch whinny and we settled him in.

By the time I came back the next morning everyone was going on and on about him. He was curious, respectful, handsome, sweet, sweet, sweet.

This is the horse that was a little stand offish? Here, he's a rock star.

And what is his name? I know you're wondering.

It took me three days (which is why I didn't post anything for so long. All my computer time was spent looking up names) to come up with it. Part of the challenge was after spending a morning with him on Sunday, I'd decided that he wasn't hispanic. Don't ask me why, I have no idea. Maybe because his papers show that he's from the Dakotas, maybe because he has such a classic quarter horse look, maybe because he seemed to not respond to Cariño, Lumbre, and half a dozen other contenders.

This was troubling since his name for years was Lobo. (I just spoke with Pam, his previous owner, and she said she never liked Lobo for a name either! Isn't that funny?)

So I started to jot some names down. I enlisted the help of my office mates. We came up with these.

Yes, I know. I should have gone into medicine.

So I looked on line for HOURS. Famous horses. Stars in the sky. Movie mounts. Famous cowboys. Places. Attitudes. Rescue horses (those people at rescues are so clever!).

I even hit up my sister for help since she helped name Canyon.

She came up with d'Artagnan which I loved, because d'Artagnan was such a sweet guy in the 3 musketeers. But it tends to sound like Canyon and it's darn long.

I had sorta settled on Caspian, which sounded great, but wasn't quite right.

Then we hit on it.

He really looked like a Bo (as in Beau) to me, but that was too simple.





Then I realized I had a name. A name I liked before I picked Canyon - the Canyon runner up name that actually fit him perfectly.

Cibolo.

Cibolo, after Cibolo Creek, after a place I used to go to hear live music, after a town where the last of the ranches outside San Antonio linger outside the rim of malls, Cibolo which has a spanish ring with a nice western feel (cibolo means buffalo, actually). It has Lobo in it, which is fortunate given his freeze brand:


But Cibolo has the sound of running hooves in it for me.

And I can call him Bo.

So, there we go. With Cibolo.

I think he likes it.

(I love a horse that licks and chews. Makes me think I'm doing something right.)

A picture from Audrey

Audrey, the trainer who helped me find this horse (here's her facebook page), was out visiting the ranch where my soon to be horse lives and sent me a picture.

Am I shallow to be smitten by his good looks?

I don't know about you, but I think this horse is wanting to know when he's moving.

So far the plan is next weekend.

I'm almost nervous to bring him home. Like he won't like my parents or something. LOL

Sold! I have a new horse! No Saddle! Back Up! Lost Dog!

Warning: this post is all over the place. I tried to tie it all together by coming up with a snappy descriptor that starts with B. B for Bouncing, bounding, barely cohesive!


First things first: BOUGHT
(Isn't he just precious?)

Well, we are all good. The-Horse-formerly-known-as-Lobo is coming home with us in a few days - or a week(who knows what I'll name him, but I have at least one idea). I've had some challenges navigating ebay/paypal (note to self: never, ever, ever sell something on there again. What a rip off they've become!), so I'm delayed in getting my payment out.

But we are good and I can't wait to get him home.

Course, I don't have a saddle for him. But I'll just ride in Adam's roomy 17 inch saddle until I find a good 15 inch one - and save up from all this spending!

Horse! Trailer! Budget? Eek! Saddle? Ha!


BACK UP:

Given my brand new status as a horse trailer owner, it's time to come to terms with my terror at backing up a truck. Well, not so much terror as plain incompetence.

But lookie here:
This is at the parking garage at work - and this was a bump free (or braille free, as I like to think of it) parking job.

Bring it on, horsey.


BOOK IT:

I'm reading a book from the library so wonderful that I'm going to buy it (I'm a big library person and don't buy many books. But some you simply must own).


It's Horse Heaven by Jane Smiley. It's about racing, which I have no interest in, but the way she gets inside the head of a horse is astonishing and completely believable. The writing is stunning (she won the pulitzer for an earlier novel), and it is simply a joy to savor. Ask your library for a copy, but be prepared to extend your loan on it. It's huge and you don't want to miss a word.

Favorite character: Just-A-Bob, a sensible thoroughbred who wins repeatedly by a nose, extending just enough to make a difference.


BELLA, aka Lost and Found:

We lost and found our dog today. As we were scattering fliers around and visiting all the area pounds, we realized just how much we love her.

Bella is featured in this popcorn movie (she's the shepherd):




See? Isn't she a keeper?
Welcome home, Bella.

We have a winner! (I hope)

The end???

Sometimes you just have to break all the rules.

All of them.

For weeks I've been following the rules.

Carefully combing through ads.




Getting pictures and interviewing owners in depth.

Running everything through my check list.




And so far it was getting me nowhere. Every horse had issues. Significant issues.

So today I didn't follow any of the rules.

I met up with a trainer a friend recommended, Audrey Tomlin.
She told me she had 4 horses or so for me to look at.

Now, Audrey doesn't usually work in my price range.
She works one decimal point over.

But she's got a good heart and even greater patience.

She doesn't send me any pictures.
She doesn't give me much information about
the horses, just their ages, gender and color.

But I'm just happy to be looking at a bunch of
horses in one day. Better odds, I figure.

First of all I drive WAAAAY out. About an hour and a half away.
Little did I know that would be the shortest leg of the trip, practically.

Our first stop ... doesn't go so well. An auction gelding with no buck who then... bucks. He was actually very quiet and relaxed with me, but nervous for the owner who has just had him out on hay. He's soft and has a great whoa, but has lost a lot of muscle.

He's a horse that tries and worries.

Look at him. I just wanted to embrace him utterly.

I could tell he's a smart, soft horse that just needs someone to take him in. But I can't go to bucking camp again (I think he'd do great with a gentle hand and some ramp up time). If we had our own place, though, I'd take him home and just take my time, let him learn to trust.

But that's not where we are right now.

So we leave to our next stop.


Then I meet HIM.




And it's like ZING! I know that look, that's the look I've been searching for.



His current name is Lobo, but he's no wolf.
He's a big cuddly puppy dog, who is one honest horse.


A horse so honest that I trusted him completely - enough to...

CANTER.



I cantered! It was ugly (I couldn't even remember to give him the correct lead and he dutifully took off on the wrong one) but I was so excited I could barely keep my heart in my chest.

He's wonderful. I'm sold.
He's at the top of my budget, and I still need to hear from the
owner to be sure she'll take what she told Audrey.

I know she wants him to go to a loving home. And I've definitely got that.

Plus he'll be a lifer. He'll retire with us, wherever we end up.

So, hopefully, if all goes well, he'll be coming home...

Back to zero AGAIN

I tell you what, losing this one broke my heart a little.

Turned out when the stable owner went to bit her up she got very stubborn, and much training ensued.

Then in the arena she tried to get a one rein stop and the mare just kept circling.

"No, no, she's more greenbroke than I was told," she said.



This one comes right up to you, wants to be with you, wants to sniff everything and with all the goings on, never spooked.

But I don't need a green horse.

And it just breaks my heart because her personality was perfect.

I feel like I'm that person at the restaurant who orders off the menu, then proceeds to modify the entire meal.


I didn't think I was that picky, but this process is teaching me that having any standards is being picky.

And I found out this morning that the gorgeous buckskin was sold.

So I'm BACK to ZERO.












oh darlin. Did you HAVE to break my heart?

Lookie! I'm getting a SLANT!

I can't believe it, but I'm finally going to have a horse trailer!

My very own, not rented, not borrowed, complete with a tack room, ever so cool, HORSE TRAILER!

This means I can go places! Like to the lake to trail ride! And to the park to trail ride! And to the vet to... get shots!

Oh my goodness, you'd think I was getting a HORSE or something.

And I sold my saddle!

And I have a new horse to look at in the morning!

I guess I just needed to get to the 20s in July. :)

Here's another picture.

I think I need pads.

It's a 2004 Chapparal. It's got the tack room in the front, just like I like.

I'm sooo excited!

(BTW, very cool post on a Mark Rashid clinic at A year with horses... I've already put one of the ideas to work!)

Bust in Denison

Well, it was a long way to go for a blind date.

And as it turned out, it was a bust.

I guess I had some warning about how things were going to go, though. The day before I was leaving on my trip, I got a call from the trainer who has the horse.

He needs two weeks, she said.

The alarm bells in my head were deafening. I was planning to take a pretty long trip for a horse that needed two weeks tune up.

What's the problem, I asked.

Well, he's giving me an arguement at the lope, she said.

Okie dokie.

Given that I just spent a year and a half in an ongoing argument with a horse, I felt my spirits sink. Maybe I should have called the whole thing off right then. But we were looking foward to getting away -- something we don't do near enough of.


So I went any way.

The problem, of course, is that I don't know this horse. I know what I'm being told, but, unlike Lily, I can't tell the reality of a situation. Lily needed a tune up, but I knew how she was when she was in shape. I knew what her issues were. I knew I could work them out.

I didn't know this horse's.




I have to say, Denison is some pretty country. I had no idea there were so many hills, trees, and plain beautiful country in the space between Dallas and Oklahoma.

I had business in Ft. Worth, and we made a trip out of it, hitting the zoo (Mireya and snow leopard making friends with the swimming penguin)




barely missing the national cutting horse show (next year, for sure),


stayed at a lovely bed and breakfast near Lake Texoma,



complete with fishing pond.




All before I went to see this horse. Which ended up being a good thing. Because then it did feel like a vacation with a break to see a horse instead of a vacation built around seeing a horse.


Took me a while to find my way around, mostly because the names of things are not consistent from highway signs to google maps in Denison.






I arrived and the trainer let me get him out of the pasture. He walked away from me, nothing too dramatic, but he didn't walk right up to me as she had described. I don't really care about that. Unlike some folks, I really don't expect a horse to accept everyone who walks into their pasture.

Once I got him out, I looked him over. He had some rub spots and scars.




Thin cracks in the hooves too. Not sure you can see them... I suspect just from the dry weather.



Most concerning though were the sores at the corners of his mouth and a rubbed area on his right front leg - in front and in the back towards the girth. Apparently they had tied him off the saddle (going from bit to his leg to the D ring in the saddle) to "soften him in the lope."

I always find the term soften interesting. I presume it means relaxed, but the fact that we use the word soften is telling...


She said he would grab the bit and resist at the lope. He was nervous about going into the lope, she theorized, because his previous riders were heavy, uncoordinated and in his mouth.




I rode him briefly, but it was, in a way, impossible to assess him... I couldn't lope him - even she was visibly nervous to do so (again with the alarm bells. In fact when another rider in the arena kissed she said he wanted to bolt.

Okie dokie.

When I moved him around he didn't neck rein, had a rough trot and just generally was loosy goosey, side passing to stop going forward, etc.


He'll be a different horse in two weeks, she says.

Maybe so. I have no idea.

Frankly, I don't think I can make another trip just to see if he comes around. He's beautiful in many ways and he seems to have a good nature, but I wonder how willing of a horse he is if he had to be tied up in knots and rubbed raw, just to canter.

I've lost a lot of confidence in the last few months, and I don't think this is the horse that can partner with me to help find it.

Strike 2 (the giraffe on the barrel pattern being strike 1).

So I'm back to zero.

Well, actually, there's still Ringo. Maybe I can see him this week.


And I'm looking here too.

And I'm tired of looking... I just want to ride. But I don't want to make another mistake. The right horse has got to be out there somewhere.

Denison or Bust

First let me explain why there are no pictures of the grey horse I went to see.

When I got out of the truck, I couldn't believe the horse that was being led to me was the horse I had talked to the woman/girl about on the phone.

This looked like a rescue horse. Ribs showing. Long toes. Dark scratches all over his legs. One third of his mane gone.

I was so taken aback I couldn't bring myself to take a single picture.

This was the woman who told me she was absolutely firm on the price. He made the Roan look like Black Beauty's irish cousin.

And it got worse.

She pulls out a wire tie down. "I know some people think these are cruel, but he can pull his head up quick and hit you."

I bet he can.

When she showed me his work in the arena it looked like a giraffe was running the barrels. I've never seen a horse with his head so high. He stumbled, of course, given those terribly long hooves, the worst barefoot job I've seen on a horse supposedly recently trimmed.

Then I did my usual quiet bit, where I let people dig their own holes and she dug deep. He was high headed, charging on trails, just wanted to run in an arena, no back up, tough to stand still.

I got on him for about 30 seconds and decided this horse had no brakes, and with his head up in the air, not going to get brakes any time soon. I let him go back to his truck, got off and said "I'm used to something with more training."

Did I mention his hoof was growing crooked?

I felt for him, he was just a sad sack out there, a saddle on his back that had no fleece, in a bleak place.

But I don't run a rescue for horses (if we ever do, it'll probably be for dogs), and am done with challenging training issues.

Someday, we'll have property. Someday we'll make room for a horse who needs to retire. Someday we can have a horse that is just a companion.

But not today and not soon.



So, back to that bay.

Here's what I got from this trainer (recommended by a friend in Dallas):

This is a 7 year old registered QH gelding with very good breeding. Lots of trail experience. Purchased by a father for him and his daughter to enjoy. Father lost his job and took another one that's very time consuming so no time to spend with the horse. 15 hands. Very friendly disposition....stable owner says he just wants to be with you. Adds that he is very pretty and small show quality (she shows). $2,500 firm seems to be a good price. Quiet, gentle, kind. I like his pedigree and conformation....he's too fat but you can see he has a good top line and strong hindquarters, looks like pretty good legs, nice eye; neck is set on low and his shoulder/pastern angles appear a bit more straight than the other bay gelding so you'd have to ride him to see which one was smoother gaited.

When we talked she said he has "colonel freckles" which I've heard before, but had to google to find out anything. He was a champion cutting horse who died from eating blister beetles... Lily has Doc Bar, another aqha hall of famer.


As a mutt myself, I'm a little concerned that my horses would have more notoriety in their breeding than me.

Anyway, after a rather disappointing start to my horse shopping, I'm putting down a hold on the bay and getting a vet check. I'll be up in Denison on Friday to see him. I'm putting a lot of confidence in the trainer, and in what is by far the most attractive prospect I've seen by email. I decide that I'm done shopping until I see this one in 3-d. (The dun had a bad hoof in the picture when I looked more closely, don't know if you could see it...)

Done, right?


Ha.

Then I'm in the grocery store, content with my horse decision, when my phone rings.

It's Ringo.

No, not that Ringo.

This Ringo.
Ringo is an arab.
And a bay, sort of (what do you call them when they have some white?)

I know, I know. I already sold my favorite arab saddle too.

But isn't he cute??

Only 14.2 hands, which is nice. I could see Sierra on him.But she has a horse... Here's the ad info:

Great trail and 4H horse. Ringo is my 10 yo daughter's "fun" horse. He's very cute, smart, energetic, confident and gentle. He does not hesitate at water or other challenges. Mallory has been riding Ringo since she was 8yo and has had a blast on him! She is now moving into APHA Western Pleasure and needs to find a good home for Ringo.Ringo was separated from his papers in a divorce prior to our purchasing him, so his foaling year (1995) is unknown and estimated below.


Only 1850 for Ringo. And can that kid ride or what?

Ringo has been a lesson horse, kid horse and family trail. He is, as they all are, practically perfect in every way.


I'm still leaning toward the qh, mostly because I'm leery of another arab, the qh looks great and is being referred by a reputable trainer.


Thoughts?


Next post: Lost confidence...