Smokey, Me, and the Windy Day

My infrequent rides are making it tough to make much progress, but we still seem to get somewhere.

In a glacial, agonizingly slow, was- that-progress kind of way.

I finished up my chores at the barn and brought Smokey in for saddling. It was odd, none of the horses were much interested in their hay in the paddocks.

That should have been your first clue.

Well, I noticed, but what am I going to do?
Wait for the wind to die down?

Yes. Absolutely. Yesh. I can't believe I
still have to explain this to you.

I'm a little slow.

So we went directly to the arena...

INSTEAD of the round pen.

I just wanted to point that out.

Yes. Because by now I should just get on you and ride.

On a windy day.

Yes! Even on a windy day!

*pout*
What. ever.

I let out my new, extra long lead rope
for a brief lunge session, a sort of compromise...

There's no fun stuff
on one of those ropes.

and
Smokey started out very well. And then
he suddenly scooted over to the other side.

Because of my keen senses. Geez. You
can't see ANYTHING.
Tell me something.
How do you even manage to drive over
here without being killed and devored?

I guess that's because nothing is hunting me.

Oh sure, just lord over me with
the "top of the food chain" thing.

Nothing is hunting YOU either.

That's because I'm ever vigilant.

That's because there's nothing out there.

Ever.

Think about it. When did you ever see anything
out there bigger than a rabbit?

Thinking is what produces all those
carcasses on the side of the highway.

I guess that's ONE way to look at it.

Anyway, together we eventually got over it and
moved on to some basics.

I have no idea why you have
this obsession with straight lines.

It's supposed to be about focus.
That was what I was reading on all the blogs this week.

Blogs. Yesh. I tell you,
we'll get there.
No problem.

I know we will. But sometimes
I think we should be more efficient.

Face it.
We're not
like them.
We like wandering.

Unless it's windy.

Well, duh.

Mr. Smokey and the Christmas Parade Part Two

Hey there, it's Smokey here. I thought I'd give you a horse perspective on this whole "parade" thing.

I had just gotten that perfect layer of mud on when Mom showed up. She got us all in for breakfast and there was a little ruckus because some of us accidently got in the same stall with Cibolo and he was all "Hey! Get out of here!"

Touchy. I was only going to take one bite and he drops a ton anyway. Fine. I had my own grain, thank you very much Mr. Alpha Male.

I figured something was up because all kinds of people started to show up and grab brushes.

Take if from me. If you have more than one person show up with brushes early in the morning it can only mean one thing. Parade.

I decided I better chow down because these parade things take a lot out of a guy. Before I knew it Mom was at it with the mane decorating. If there was any doubt before that was the final sign. Ribbons = parades.

Course all my stuff was pretty low key. Nice red blanket, a couple of ribbon in the mane that I figured I'd shake off at the first opportunity. Mom gave up on things on my head when I sent stuff airborne last year.

But you should have seen Cloud. The boy looked like a MARE! HA! He had shiny stuff, bells, and ANTLERS!

Cody got a long sparkely rope in his tail, and the new mare, Missy, she was low key too. Red, from the ranch next door, he had some big white and red thing on under his saddle. Smaller herd than last year, which was fine with me since I prefer a small herd. Less geldings to work through to make an impression on the mares, ya know.

We loaded up and the horse pullers took us around and around.

Now I don't like to speak ill of my herd mates, usually. But OMG!

First of all, Cloud was REALLY getting on all our nerves. I even had to try to bite him twice because he was a total spaz. I was like "Chill dude." and he was like "What's that!? Ahhh!!" and I was like "Where? What?" and then it was some little kid or a car and after a while I just had to roll my eyes, you know?

We walked up the street, and there were some people with those rolly horses that always creep me out. They stopped at stared at us and we weren't sure if we should stomp them and put them out of their misery, but Cody walked right by them. Cloud went by them side ways in what Mom calls "giraffe mode" which is when your head is way high so you can see them coming.

Then we got to a spot and we were supposed to stop but there was this giant grey thing and a bunch of little mini car things, and people with squashed looking hats and I didn't like it. Mom kind of figured that and hopped off to walk me over to a couple things.

I felt a little better. We did a lot of visiting, cuz in parades you have to STAND a lot even if you are a MORGAN and everyone knows it's in our breeding to be "forward" which means we don't like standing around waiting for parades to start. I got to meet all the people on the colorful trailer with the little barker. I gave the whole thing a good going over. You know they have no decent hay on those things? No wonder they all sit on it.

Mom walked me around for a while, which was good becaue there were these loud birds that kept flying over and at one point I started to wonder if they were more dangerous than the birds at the barn. They were very growly and Mom and I did the circle on the rope thing, you know, just to shake it off.

Mom also had me to some tricks for a little kid that was there and he was very impressed. I even backed, trotted, and did my fancy hip moves. Impressive stuff people like to see at a parade. We were still waiting for our turn and I was doing pretty good. I even did a shout out to some tied up horses that were pulling their own trailer, which I never have seen before. They were pretty focused, cus they didn't shout back at any of us, even though we were all "Hey! Happy Holidays Guys! What Up?!"

But it's probably a lot of work hauling one of those wagon things, so I didn't hold it against them. Mom said - Look how good they're being Smokey and I rolled my eyes. Please. They are all trussed up. What else are they gonna do? Yesh.

Then the really bad thing happened. You know how in they get those little white flappy things and its kind of unnerving to a guy? Well there was all this major noise (Mom said it was music, but I'm more of a classic rock kind of guy) and a ton of people in squashed hats and they were waving flappy things in a huge panic! That was it, we all started to make tracks - Mom had me circle, which was good, but I really thought it would be best for us to get the heck out of there. Finally the flappy people left, and other than Cloud practically running over everyone, we all got back to business.

Okay, maybe I needed to go and chill out on the parking lot for a minute, doing some more backing up and trick stuff. Just to impress, ya know.

Then it was finally our turn. For a minute there I was wondering if Mom was going to get back on. I think she was too. But her herd all gave her the thumbs up and it's not like I was all crazy like Cloud. I did kind of walk off right away, but you know it was finally time to go, you can't blame a guy.

Mom's big guy told her to breathe and she laughed and started singing, which is good, cuz you have to breathe to sing, apparently. We followed the barky dog trailer and said happy holidays to everybody. This year I stopped when Cody and Cloud did and Mom said it was amazing.

I was like, "well, duh." She probably didn't notice each time we stopped I made sure I was a little ahead. Just sending a message, you know.

I only did two circles the whole parade, cuz I got a little ahead. Last year I did so many cirlces it was like I was in the round pen. About halfway through I kind of wished I didn't have the bit, and started to shake my head. But that's not allowed in a parade, I found out. So I would dip down a little and it was not so bad. And I got rid of two ribbons on the parade route when I shook my head, which is pretty good, probably a record. Next time I think we should go bitless and show off! Ha!

Finally we were back at the trailers and everyone loaded up, cuz it was time to go.

When we got back to the barn there was a ton of good hay for all of us parade horses. Which is as it should be, Mom said.

She says I've matured. I'm thinking she has because she finally learned how to breathe, which makes it way easier. Maybe now we can go on another adventure, cuz I have this parade thing down.

Except for the flappy people. Seriously. Hope someone helped them out.


Happy Holidays!

Ponying part two.

Hi there, it's me, Smokey.

There has been quite a bit of goings on.

Bit. Get it? Hehe.

Anyway, after all the fun at the place with all the sweaty horses, Mom said it was time for me to practice getting dragged around like a baby horse.

I thought it sounded kind of dumb. In fact in the orange sandy circle I tried to show Mom how to do it. We all walk. Now we stop. Now we walk. Then she and Lily started trotting and I said "No ma'am, you two slow down! Someone could get hurt!"

I worry about these two some times. Yesh.

I had to use all my massive muscles in my neck to get them back to the proper gait.

Silly mares.

But then I kind of got in the mood to trot. To the right, cuz that's my favorite side. Everything is way nicer on the right. Really no reason to trot going to the left. But you know Mom. She *insisted.*

Finally we got out of the sandy orange pen and walked on the road. It was all fine except apparently I'm not allowed to bite Lily on the butt.

It's not like I was going to do it hard or anything. Lily is SO sensitive. She actually pinned her ears at me! Twice! Did she get in trouble? No, not Miss Western Pleasure trained, grand baby of some doc at a bar or some such.

Then I couldn't rub my itchy nose on the saddle pad.

Mares.


The next day we went all over like that again, but way further, with me being dragged all around. It's okay, I guess, and Mom says I got the idea. Then I got to be the lead horse and I was all "Woo hoo! I'm in charge! Let's go here! I'm rubbing against that cedar! Woo hoo...errr..."

Suddenly I was going in one of those itty bitty circles while Lily followed with an irritated look on her face. Sorta a reminder that Mom's in charge.

You know, *technically*.

It was fun, but not as fun as the Cookie time. But Mom got some movie of it paaqor something and she said she'll get to that.

Back to my hay, ya'll stay outta fences!

Storm Ranch Endurance Ride - One horse's perspective.

Hi. It's me, Smokey.

Guess what? I convinced Mom to let me have this post all to myself! So no interruptions from you know who!

This weekend we went on a trip. First I got in my moving stall and got a cookie. Then Lily got in and got a cookie. Then we rode - ZOOM! I like the moving stall now, except when it stops. It stopped for a LONG time.

We had to stop at mom's home barn for a while. There were no cookies. So I kept pushing my special spot on the mat. I push and stomp on that spot and usually, before you know it, ZOOOM!

Lily said to quit it. She made a mad face at me. But I didn't care since she can't bite me from between the divider thing. So I stomp stomp stomp. Makes the time go faster. Seriously. Try it sometime.

FINALLY we were ZOOM again. We went down a bunch of twisty roads, one bumpy road and then we were at a new place with a whole bunch of other moving stalls and pullers, and other horses.

LOTS of other horses, mostly skinny ones, with the roundy middles. I kept it cool, though.


I might of shouted once, you know, just to say hey to everybody.

Once or twice.





Then Lily and I got our very own paddock with the biting white snakes. I hate those things. But there was lots of hay and water.



Some of the horses around us were all sweaty and looking tired. Maybe they had to run here instead of coming in a moving stall.

Then mom took me on a walk around. I didn't like it. No sir. Besides I had to leave Lily. And she was probably scared.

I shouted at her, just to let her know I was okay. Just a couple times.

Mom said there is no way I'm riding your silly nonsense.

Then I went back to the paddock and that was good. Then mom took Lily! She said "don't worry you have Tuffy to keep you company."




This is Tuffy. See? Like THIS GUY is supposed to make me feel better? Please. He doesn't even have a mane.

I tried to point out that I probably could just follow along, that they needed protection. I showed my big horse moves. Snaking neck. Couple bucks. Impressive stuff.

They left.

Crazy. I hollered at Lily for a while, just to let her know she'd be okay.

Then all I could do was wait.

Mom said she'd tell you about the next part. But she's all tired and stuff, so it might be a day or two.

Sir Smokey and the Fire Breathing Dragon

Hi. It's me. Smokey.

Today I have a cautionary
tale for all my fellow horses out there.

Beware the Dragon!!

It wasn't a dragon.

MOM! I thought we agreed I could tell the story.

You are going to freak people out.
Not to mention our horse followers.

Sometimes life is scary. Really scary.
This is a service to my e-herd.

E-herd? Seriously?
Did you just make that up?

We were going to try I-herd, but Lily said it
was too alpha mare.

I can see that.

ANYWAY, back to MY story. I was out on the trail
practicing dragging Lily around.

The correct term is "ponying"

Have you seen the hind quarter on
that mare?

If she's a pony, then I'm a draft horse!

Good point.

Anyway, I was high up on the trail when
I first heard the dragon. It was a terrible sound,
deep and roaring, and verily I say to you
there was even a cursed smell.

Verily? Cursed? Have you been
reading my old sword and
sorcery novels?

Lily was reading something she
called a "bodice ripper." I thought it
was about harness racing.


It was so not.

But I picked up
a few terms here and there.

Oh dear.

Where was I? Oh yeah.

Aye, the smell was terrible,
like a hoof burning. Sure, it was hot out,
but not that hot out.

Of course I was on high alert since we
have interlopers in the barn.

They are here for training, remember?

They are interlopers. I saw one of them
eating from MY HAY BALE.

We have dozens of hay bales.
How do you know they ate yours?

Silly. They are ALL mine.

Anyway, the smell and the roaring
was coming from my barn.

I was eager to investigate.

You could have fooled me.

Eager and cautious.

Like a giraffe.

It's easier to see with my head up like that.

Finally I convinced mom that we should head in to investigate.
The roaring was deafening! There was the sound of grinding
of bones too. I feared for our lives, and that of mom.

Still I walked in, courageous horse that I am.

(Refraining from commenting
with great discipline)

The roaring was coming from the lowest part of the beast.
I was right! There was a dragon!

And there, tied to the wall to serve as a sacrifice,
was one of the interlopers!

Too bad for him, but would WE BE NEXT?

I told you, it was a forge. For the black smith.

That's ridiculous. My farrier only uses files and
hammers.

Sometimes they use forges.

It was a dragon!

And now the interloper has it's discarded
teeth on its feet! It must have made some sort of deal! Probably
will lead us all into the dragon's lair later!

(palm to head)

Ahem. Back to the story.

The beast blocked the wash rack and we circled it cautiously...

That's one word for it.

And I got rinsed off within a hoof width of the monster.

It was a truck. The black smith's truck.

Right. With a roaring fire and bone grinder next to it.

Egads, mom, it's amazing you haven't been devoured.

Egads? Egads?
That's it. No more romance
novels for you.

That's fine. I think I need martial arts training anyway.
They have all kinds of dragons in China.

Have you heard of Jackie Chan?

Cibolo says he's got
all the moves.

Peace and horses

There is something peaceful
about being with my horse.

It would be a whole lot more peaceful if you
were less obsessed with bathing me.

Really, Smokey, I think
obsessed is a little strong.

It's totally accurate.
Besides, sweat is good.
Sweat creates armor.

Armor? Sweat armor?

Besides, babies get washed all the time.
I'm growed up. I don't need baths.

Look, hon, the manure cologne is just not doing it for me.
Besides, you just turned gold again. I want to see it
shine.

I like my dark phase.
Adds to the mystery.

If only it didn't add to the flies.

Hmm. Well, there is that.

Lucky for you I have to work this week.
I won't be within a mile of the hose.

Woo hoo!

Can I get back to my point now?

Absolutely. By all means.

Thanks.

A sense of peace washes over me when...

Again with the washing!

It's. a. metaphor.

It's. a. noy. ying.

G'night, you goof ball.

Don't forget to toss me some alfalfa.
Clean horses get alfalfa, I was told.

Smokey's Report

Dictated by Smokey Mountain, Buckskin Morgan.

Hi everybody.

It's been a while so I thought I'd give you a report on how things are going around here. Lily is not nearly as grouchy anymore, which is a big relief. She says I'm minding my manners better, but I think it's because she had to do all these exercises and she can make that scrunchy face at mom instead of me.

The best news is that I don't have to bite the saddle anymore. Mom figured out it wasn't fitting my massive shoulders.

See, now that I'm all growed up, I am really massive. Even the Momma mare is talking to me now. That's what happens when you get massive. Even the really tall mares notice.

Um, er....

Don't tell Lily. Okay?

So anyway, we've been going out on the trail a bunch. We even went deep in the trees and I finally got a good sniff of the black plastic tub that is on the other side of the biting ropes. It turns out it was just a tub. And all this time I thought it was a big hidy hole for the mountain lions.


Well, it was possible. You know, they have to hide somewhere.

But I don't worry anymore because I sniffed it. And I'm really massive. So I could smush a lion. If I had to.

And the good news, I finally trained Mom to stay in the middle of me so I can make the circle at the canter. She likes me to canter up the hill which is way hard. So I *suggest* we turn off early.

But then we have to keep doing it, so I guess she doesn't like my suggestion.

There is one strange thing happening. There are these weird bugs out. They are only around when I count. Here's how it goes. I'll be at the trailer tied up and I'll just be, you know, counting with my hoof (I can get up to five), then POP, there's a bite on my butt! A little tiny one, but then I lose count. So I decide to stop counting. That's what Cody said to do. And the little bites go away.

It's weird. Cody knows this stuff cuz he is ANCIENT. He says I need to relax more. I say he needs to relax less. HA!

So I'm going to ask for extra fly spray. A guy has to do something when he's tied at the trailer. Those biting bugs are very distracting.

Hope everyone is keeping their riders on board and the alfalfa is flowing. See you on the trail!

Smokey

Parading About Town

The Line Up (that's us, on the far left.)

Ever since I re-discovered horses I had one goal. I wanted to be riding my horse in a parade. I’ve been in a couple of parades over time. I was Cinderella for our Library’s float in the San Antonio Battle of Flowers parade (which is the 2nd coolest parade in the world). Given that I am a Hispanic woman with a size 9 shoe, it was a bit of a stretch, but the wig and pink ballgown helped me carry it off.



When we moved out to the Lake I discovered that the greatest parade ever was the holiday parade in our town. It was pretty modest in those days, maybe 20 entries, but I envisioned myself riding in there with the County Posse, my horse decked out in ribbons, me with the perfect parade wave to the crowd.

Then I had the horse I’d as soon ride through a mine field than take to a parade. I contented myself with the fact that my children were living out the dream by riding in various floats themselves.



When we got Lily I thought, you know, that horse could ride in a parade, no problem. I began to have a glimmer of hope. I got to be in the parade last year as a pooper scooper, which was DARN CLOSE to actually riding a horse in the parade.



Which is a long way of saying I really, really, really wanted to ride my horse in this year’s Christmas parade. And this year we did. Sierra and I went to the dress rehearsal to make sure none of the horses would over react to bells, ribbons, antlers and hats. We practiced our line up. I knew precisely what problem we’d have. We’d have the problem we had in South Texas.

My horse doesn’t like to stop in a crowd of horses.


Hello. Smokey here. I wouldn’t have to keep going if we weren’t clearly LOSING.

Smokey. It’s not a race. It’s a parade.

Horses are in front of me. That’s a race. And I can take ‘em if you let me.

You really don’t want to be behind the power truck. It makes noises and has crinkly stuff you don’t like.

Mares only like winners.

Mares like geldings with manners.

Yesh. What would you know? Besides if you’re not lead horse, the view never changes.

You stole that from the mush dog blog, didn’t you?

I’m not saying.



The morning of the parade we went to the barn very early. That’s when I knew it. My horse was not in a good space. You know, when you feel your horse is not connected with you? Where you should really just work on simple stuff because anything more complex is going to be a mess? You know, complex things like being in a PARADE?

I did a fancy mane job as he was eating, realizing that the very action of grooming while he was eating was not good. Maybe this is silly, but I think when I groom a horse while they are eating they get… irritated. Do you feel that? It’s like only low man grooms while upper classman eats. I get the feeling that it erodes the sense of leadership. Maybe I’m wrong…

Sure enough I got my other signal. Smokey hesitated to load but we got him in relatively quickly (The next day he loaded perfectly). We traveled over to the staging site, parked and did a little more practice in the field. Smokey decided the antlers were itchy, so we passed on them since he succeeded in flinging them off his head and into the field. If he did that in the parade we’d probably bean a toddler or something.

We headed to our spot in the line up. We were #19. Here’s where it got really fun. There were 60 entries. We got to ride past #60 through #5 to get to our designated staging for the parade area in the line up. So it was a mini desensitization clinic complete with screaming children, decorated golf carts whizzing by, flapping decorations, a giant snow man, and really loud Christmas music.

For a crabby horse who was NOT IN THE MOOD FOR THIS, Smokey did amazingly well. Stopping wasn’t really an option (which is why we are working on stopping….)


We should have galloped through that stuff. It was crazy.

It wasn’t that bad.

Ha! How about the crinkly stuff that kept moving like upside down grass?

The garland?

Yeah! Clearly dangerous. Probably tastes bad too.

So, anyway, we practiced the move we’d do in the parade. Turn around to burn off some energy. Stop for .5 seconds.

We stopped for AGES.

Riiight. Finally we cleared the gauntlet and hung out, waiting for the parade to start. We stood still but periodically decided to walk around for a while.

I don’t get why we had to wait. I mean, I was ready.

After the confederate air force did it’s roaring low fly over…

I was totally fine with that, I’d like the record to show…

True. You did great. After that, we headed out. We did well, all things considered, and I suspect most people thought I was just doing some fancy footwork. At one point Smokey slipped on the asphalt and finally seemed to get the value of slowing down.

I hated that slipping thing. Why you insist on riding on such surfaces is beyond me.

But all in all, I was very proud of him.

I had the best mane, too.

You sure did.

Smokey and Lily, trouble in paradise

Smokey may be encountering the fickle nature of mares, heat, and paddock drama. Here is his perspective on the issue. I tried to talk to Lily, but she was... occupied.

Hello? Hello? Are you getting this down? Yes? Okay, good.

So things were really good, and now.. what? Oh. Okay. I'll start at the beginning, sorta.

At first I was pretty fired up to be in a paddock with a mare. See, when I was with all the geldings, they picked on me pretty bad. I even got a big ol scar on my leg from them.

It's distinguishing, I think.

Then there was all this commotion and I got to move into the paddock with Lily.

Things were great. I mean she had this winking thing, and I'd never even seen a winking thing and all of a sudden I'm letting it fly (if you know what I mean) and it's all crazy and cool, and I'm in love. And I'm thinking she's in love too.

So we set up paddock keeping, hanging out with the long eared short horse. But lately I'm getting the feeling the honeymoon is over. For the last three days Lily's been standing next to the fence with Cibolo and they're all sniffy sniffy and all that. It's so irritating. I mean the guy wears boots on trail rides! Seriously can you believe she'd fall for a gelding like that?

So I chased her around a minute. It was fun!

Then she chased me around a minute. It was not fun! ):(

She was crazy, I tell you! Everyone thinks she's so sweet, but HA! Just try to boss her around when she gets like that.

Fine, I say. You hang out with that red horse. Me and the long ear kid will do our own thing.

Then the other day we went on a trail ride and I decided I'd give her a little nip, you know, cuz it's not like she could do anything about it since she had her girl on her.

See? She thinks she's all that and a bag of alfalfa.

But before I could connect, mom stopped me! She said it's not allowed. That's cuz she doesn't know how mean she's been to me. And I wasn't going to bite her that hard even.

Anyway, I think maybe it's time to give up on mares. Who needs 'em?

--Smokey.

The Accidental Endurance Ride Part 3

You signed us up for WHAT?

Tacked up with my brand new saddle, two little water bottles and 5,431 butterflies in my stomach, we headed down to the trail head. I painted a bright green "130" and tried to glean what that number meant. Surely there weren't 30 riders.

Nah.

There were 38.

!!!!

The start of the 25 milers

Too late to back out now. I mean, my horse had a number on his butt.

I got to the check in and gave my name and number. Ann and Carol were there on their "babies" - a grey arab for Ann who's name was River and a sorrel Arab named King for Carol. Both were barely 4 and River was fresh from the trainer. This is why they were in the intro ride, where green horses or green riders got to head out and give it a try.

Now that I saw the crowd, I was not so thrilled. There is no way I would have agreed to this ride had I known there would be 38 horses. Cibolo did fairly well standing there and I began to think it was a manageable situation until the OTTB started bucking. Then Cibolo was whirling and very... concerned. I got him back under control, but the butterflies I had brought with me had morphed into bats.

I worried we were headed back to South Texas and our ride in Conception. We'd made lots of progress, and I knew so much more. But this was the same situation all over again.

For miles, Cibolo jigged and snorted. I tried turning him, but there were too many horses and frankly, turning just seemed to increase his anxiety. I tried to relax him, stop him, but he fought me. The "babies" were a bit agitated and that fed his nervousness too. At one point I wanted to get off and do some ground work or something, but Ann and Carol both said - just a little further. You can handle it. He'll settle down.

I was getting frustrated and longed for the quiet mounts I saw passing us by. Maybe I was out matched here. Maybe it was too much.

I started muttering his nickname for moments like this. French Fry.

Then Carol said, after being exasperated at some bad trail behavior around us, "Let's trot."

I didn't really want to trot because I thought it would get Cibolo's blood really going. Speed was always the enemy with bad behavior, at least that's what I had learned.

But something happened in that trot. With every foot fall, his anxiety melted. He needed to go faster than a walk, needed the release. It was something he couldn't get from the turns or bends. For Cibolo, he needs a chance to clear his head, and it happens when he hits the ground at a trot. When we slowed down, he was still hot, but nothing like before.

I was stunned. This is the piece I was missing. This is what my friend had done at the trail ride at Conception that I couldn't do - he'd let him canter and "run it out" of his system.

We could do this.

At about the second mile we discovered something else. River kicks.

Luckily my stirrup took the blow:

See the bend there?

Here it is, a little closer.

I guess my guardian horse angel was watching me on that one, because River gave no warning. The clang on the stirrup was loud and based on this damage I'd say I would have had a broken foot - or worse, Cibolo would have really been hurt.


I think at this point it's time to hand over the story to Cibolo who has his own perspective on the ride:

OMG

We got totally lost this weekend.

You know I was kind of suspicious when we got to this place where Amigo goes and there were those stingy rope things up. I had my own little stingy rope pen which wasn't so bad since I got all the hay that was tossed in. And there was extra alfalfa, which I LOVE.

I got the low down from a few horses there - the grass was good, no mares were in heat, there was a stallion here and there, and even a few other of us highly muscled types. Mostly it was the skinny horses though with all the mane hair.

I say real horses don't waste energy growing mane hair.

Anyway, me and mom headed over to the trail and there were some real schizoids there. I tried to stay away from most of the worst of them, since I know that's a sure way to get tossed in a ditch.

We hung out with two skinny horses, youngsters really. One of them kicked my nice new saddle. I should have bit him, but I've got more class than that. Then there were a bunch more horses, and the herd just kept moving around, there were so many of them IN MY WAY. It was creeping me out. Finally, after trying to explain to mom that I needed some space or something, I got to shake a little off and me and mom trotted. It felt great. And she finally stopped with the "easy" business. We got to trot a lot and it was fun.

Pretty soon we got to a place with some water and mom got off and squirted something NASTY in my mouth.



That was electrolytes, Cibolo. One of the women brought an extra one to share.

Yeah. Like I was saying. Nasty. Then mom kept going on and on about the water. I knew it was water, I was standing in it. She even splashed some on my mouth which I DID NOT LIKE.

I got to eat grass even though I had my bridle on which is usually NOT ALLOWED PERIOD. So that was good.

We kept going and I figured we'd be coming up to the trailer any minute. I mean we had gone five miles (according to my highly accurate mental odometer). We never go this far except for our trips at the lake.

But there was more water and she was back to trying to get me to do something with it. Then I realized it. We were lost. Totally lost. I took a tiny sip of water and considered my options.

Then we were off again. We found a pond and I decided it was a good place to drink and I was thirsty. The mud felt great on my legs. Mom was worried I'd lose my cool boots, but they stayed on, no problem.

Again I got to have some grass, which was good. We trotted and cantered a lot, but we were still lost. Sometimes Mom got out of balance, I think her left hind was bothering her. She kept messing with my stirrup there. But she did okay, considering.

There were some spots where the skinny horses got nervous, but I told them everything was just fine. One of them, the gray, did not like cactus. Every time he'd dance away like it was going to get him. I laughed and laughed. Then there was this wolf...


It was a dead branch

I don't think so. Anyway, I totally intimidated it with my fancy foot work and it played dead.

Fortunately, thanks to my knack for these things, we got back to camp and we had gone 15 MILES. Also the vet was there to make sure I was okay. I said of course I was, and proved it with a really low heart rate - better even than the skinny horses.


Everyone was very impressed.

I have a calm nature. That helps.


Right.

Then I went back and Amigo was there. He looked real tired, so I figured I'd tell him how I had to get mom home from God knows where later. I had lots and lots of hay, and lots of water.

Hopefully we don't get lost next time. 15 miles is a long long way from the barn.

It was a beautiful ride, through incredible country, and Cibolo was a champ. He can definitely do this kind of ride even though he's not a "skinny horse." And he pulsed down better than anyone and ended up in top condition.

I learned I can ride him through his emotional moments, that they really aren't that bad. That I've been fearing more than what he's been actually dishing out - afraid of where it could go, not where it is. That's a new and powerful realization for me.

There is a tiny bit more to tell, but I'll save it for another time. This is definitely long enough.

While we were gone

While we were gone, Stephanie rode Cibolo. I beg her to ride my horses because she's great and she loves it. Today I got an email with an interesting attachment...

Here's the report:

I found this today before I left the stable and I told Cibolo I'd get it to you. He told me not to read it, but I did anyways.

Here's the note from Cibolo:



And further explanation from Stephanie:

He was correct a little bit...It did seem to get dark right when I got there. The weather was perfect when I left for the stables, then clouds came in and it got super windy. I think the wind is what he's talking about with the monsters.

Anyway...I rode him despite the wind because I thought it would be a good training, which it really was. It took a while for me to get and -keep- his attention. He was crow hopping all over the place, snorting, side stepping...But then we got into a really nice groove and we were cantering like pros. He did really well, actually. And if we can do that when the weather is craaaaazy, we might be getting somewhere!

Thank you Stephanie, for riding through the monsters.

Cibolo, hate to tell ya, but facing monsters is just the start.

More about our trip to beautiful NM a little later. I've got to get ready to get back to reality (seriously, I KNOW I was supposed to be a trust fund baby. this work thing is just crazy).

Cibolo's first post

Hi. Um. It's me. Cibolo.

I've been a little reluctant to start this blogging thing, because it seems to me that it really cuts into grazing time.

But I thought since I've got the internet in my stall and everything it would be a shame to just let it sit here.

Besides, I was promised a cookie if I did a post.

Personally my favorite cookies are those nicker ones. I can smell those a mile away.

mmm. cookies.

Now where was I? Oh yeah. A post. Okay.




Let's see. I guess I could tell you about our day. Me and my alpha mare were in the sorrel circle today. It was really weird. She decided it was time to put the little rocks in a water bottle and shake them.

I'm not sure what the point of that whole thing was. I swear, she needs to stop reading those magazines. I just sort of looked over and she'd stop shakin' them. But we hadn't been in the sorrel circle for a while so I was sorta curious about the other barn across the way and such. Then she was jumping and shaking that thing. So I looked at her and took a step back, because I was starting to think she was going to go loco or something.



Turns out I was supposed to be SCARED of that thing.

Yesh. It's a water bottle with rocks in it, for goodness sake. I didn't get scared of that crazy dog, the other day, I'm sure not going to be scared of a bunch of rocks in a bottle. We had a good laugh over that.




So we left the circle and went on our first trail ride alone, just me and my alpha mare. I was a little excited at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? She hadn't gone anywhere with just me. Like I was a baby or something. I guess she had to cowgirl up a little. Anyway we got it figured out. Pretty soon she was singing and I was keeping the rhythm going and it was really nice to be out and away from all the flies and other horses and just do some running around. Well, actually more like walking and trotting. She says no running. Not yet, anyway. Fine with me!



Oh, hey, I thought it might be nice for you to meet Lily's BOYFRIEND. She says it's just platonic, whatever the heck that means. All I can tell you is he has a hissy fit every time she's with me.

I keep telling him she's like a sister, but you can't really talk to Pasos, you know?




His name is Armador. I call him Big Nose. I mean LOOK at that Snoz! Alpha mare says he has a pretty mane. I say he's wasting all that energy growing hair instead of muscles. He's not a bad guy, I guess.





And here's a picture of the little alpha mare with Lily. She loves to spray with that thing. Lily is really brave, she stands on that flat rock where they spray us. I fell off one of those once, so I move over to the grassy part.


Alright. That's all I got. I guess I better head out, I can see that thoroughbred is getting all the grass. Take care and watch out for those water bottles. Ha ha!

Quote of the Day (or week or whatever)

The Carrot vs the Stick (from Horse and Rider)

Punishment as a training tool "should become obsolete," says clinician John Lyons. "It's unnecessary and counter-productive... When he isn't getting somethign you're trying to teach him, he's already unhappy. Punishing him at this point is backward thinking, and just causes anxiety...

"Think of it another way: If your boss only yelled at you whenever you made a mistake, and never praised you for doing something correctly, pretty soon you wouldn't want to go to work at all.

"It's the same for your horse."




(below excerpted from a conversation at the barn)



Me: Okay, what do YOU think? Frankly after my alpha mare episode, I'm a believer in a little stick - not punishment in the old cowboy sense, but certainly some attitude... If it's all carrots, it just doesn't seem to work...

Canyon (interrupting): Actually you just aren't using enough carrots.

Me: oh give me a break.

Lily: He's absolutely right. More carrots.

Canyon: I'm pretty sure you can get them in bulk.

Lily: And cookies. I'm good with cookies too.

Me: Cut it OUT! Back to the round pen!

Sandy Circle Time in New Territory -- by Canyon

Dictated by Canyon...

Well, you may have heard the big news by now, but I was recently forced to relocate. Generally I'm all for adventure, being the courageous horse I am, but it appears this is not just a camp out. I'm actually ... moved.

Granted, my last home was filled with dangers - tigers thinly disguised as tarps, wolves hiding behind flattened cows - but I maintained the upper hand in that setting through intense vigilence.

But a horse's life is one of change and I'm taking on this latest one with a renewed sense of terror... er... caution.

The new place is pretty different. Fortunately there is an avalanche of hay, which helps one adjust.

I've been placed in a stall of considerable prestige, well suited to my station in life. I greet nearly everyone who comes by.

Of course the place is terrifically dangerous. First there is far too much cover for all the predators around here. It's almost as bad as those terrible open spaces in my last place.

Then there is a bunch of white snakes that hang in the air and bite. I really hate those things.

I've established a few tentative friendships, which helps one feel at home and have vowed to alert everyone to the slightest danger. Far too many of them are oblivious to danger here. Sound familiar? It's no wonder there are any horses out here at all. I arrived just in time.

Today my "alpha mare" came out to give me my treats, but insisted on walking around first. She actually took hold of some snakes and expected me to walk past them. I protested, but she had that stick thing with her. Tough choice, you might say.

We walked into the sandy circle with the metal trees and I knew I was done for. We were going to do THAT again. "Alpha mare" is OBSESSED with the sandy circle. I really thought it was time to get back to the stall with the hay... er... you know, to protect the others.

This sandy circle had pretty creepy items which I stayed well away from. As you can see these are just the sorts of things that many ignorant horses would just not give a second thought. That's how we lose so many in the sandy circle.



As you can see, I wisely kept my distance from all those creepy things.




I kept a brisk pace right from the start.



Because look at this place! See all the hiding places? Fortunately, I scared most things off after about 20 minutes. Another few minutes and alpha mare let me follow her around. I even sniffed one of the creepy things. Just one, though.




During cookie time with the alpha mare (who admittedly had done a decent job with the snakes), we decided we'd probably be able to make this place work. It's going to be a big job to keep so many horses safe, but I think I'm up to the challenge.



Please do pass on my regards to my fellow equine bloggers who may not have internet service in their stall.

Canyon

First Canyon Cartoon

I'm making some cartoons at work and thought it might be fun to try one with Canyon...

Canyon and the cow hide (part dos)

(dictated by Canyon, part 2)

So there we were, just moments away from being ripped into shreds.

I can't tell you how often this happens. How many times I have narrowly escaped the predators that linger in shadows, waiting for me to simply drop my guard. It's a wonder we aren't down to just two horses around here, given the danger to us all.

Particularly since I'm the only one that keeps a real eye out for trouble. And believe you me, trouble is everywhere.

But I digress.

We were there on the safe side of the silver thing. On the other side was a skinned cow, clearly recently killed by the savages that awaited on the other side. I could see them moving about, trying to stay hidden - but I saw their feet.

Now a lesser horse, a horse with a inferior sensory system, that kind of horse might think that it was just a cat. Or a little person back there, just moving around.

But consider the facts. The skinned cow was clearly dead. Something killed it. And given the movement just underneath the cow's skin it was clear. The killer, the savage was still there.

My alpha mare kept making her noises she makes at times like this, and while I avoided getting in her "space" (she is a bit adamant about such things), I did manage to pull us both to a safer distance.

Then, proving once again that she had NO IDEA THE DANGER WE WERE IN, she had me move around in circles.

In my opinion it is always a mistake to present a tasty hindquarter to savages unless you plan on kicking the living heck out of them. But she just kept making those noises.

After a few turns I noticed that one of the little people who wander around here and who I carry on my back on occassion, was walking from the silver thing to the vet rack. I wasn't too concerned for her safety - every horse knows savages will go for the Pinto-Arabians first. Little people are way down the menu. Probably too stringy.

We kept dancing around and around and finally, when I looked back over, it looked like the savages had left. My alpha mare walked over to the skinned cow and encouraged me to sniff it. It didn't really smell much like a cow. I mean there was a little cow smell, but mostly it smelled like that stuff they spray on us at the wash rack. I gave it a lick to make sure it was well groomed and took one last look around.

It worked. We had scared off the savages. Once again the other horses were saved by my quick action which clearly had made the difference. See, savages rely completely on the element of surprise and once I'd found them out, they had no choice but to give up their dinner plans.

I try not to make a big deal out of these accomplishments. It's all in a day's work, really. But I do wish my alpha mare wouldn't make that other noise - the one that sounds like a whinny.

Surely that's not how she laughs. After all, there's nothing funny about a near death experience.

Canyon and the cow hide (part one)

Canyon has once again requested to tell his side of what is now known as the "cow hide incident." What follows is in his own words.


Do you suppose someday they will develop a more hoof friendly keyboard? While I don't mind dictating, I fear that something is lost in the translation.

Ah well. I suppose we had to give up something when we horses opted for the ability to crack walnuts with our hooves.

But I digress. The latest attack took place when the family finally came out to visit. I have to admit I was sort of wondering if they were gone for good and I had mixed emotions about it. I mean it's nice to have all this pasture time, but it does get a little boring. Plus there are no cookies.

So when my alpha mare came out to get me, I was pleasantly surprised. Cookies were on the menu! I guess that's why I let my guard down. Always a mistake to anticipate your snack when the ugly reality is that danger lurks behind every fence.

I waited politely as always while she secured my harness and we headed to the gate.

I haven't been out of the gate in a while since my nice run leads right into my pasture. Recently a few new silver things had been added to the area outside the gate. There were three of those big silver things they used to put the hay hills in.

I miss those hay hills. You could just put your head in there and chew, chew, chew. Heaven! Once I spent four days straight with my head in there - it was a new record in the pasture.

I know, pretty impressive. Everyone else would take off after a few hours and walk around, or stand in the shade for a while. They just couldn't sustain it, frankly. It takes real commitment and no small amount of stamina to stand in one spot and eat for four days straight.

Fortunately I can eat like that all day and it has no effect on my weight whatsoever. Does affect my saddle, though. That girth shrinks right up. Weird.


Anyway, they'd taken all the silver things out of all the pastures and have gone to just tossing hay around in little piles. Now we have to WALK to get to the hay. Darn inconvenient if you ask me. Rumor is that some horses where pulling hay out and ... soiling it!

Unbelievable. Proof once again there are some horses you just can't civilize.

So there were the silver things outside the gate, waiting to be loaded and taken away to some other lucky horse's house. I was sad, but not too worried.

Then, I saw them. Right behind one of the silver things. Wolves. Or lions. I just got a quick glimpse, and, as usual, my alpha mare was clueless.

It was up to me to warn her and save the other horses. But would I be in time?

(to be continued)

The Tarp That Almost Killed Me - Part 2 By Canyon

(If you missed the first part, go here)

Hi, it's Canyon again. Sorry for the delay in this post. I guess it was the trauma, I guess I have PTSHD (post traumatic stress horse disorder) and needed some time to process.

Where were we? Oh yes. Having narrowly escaped the python that was about to completely wrap itself about our entire riding party, we headed back to the relative saftey of the barn.

I say relative because when a hungry wind is blowing through no place is really safe. I was plodding back, which is necessary because if you start to trot back, which any rational horse would do, then you get turned around and have to go BACK, resulting in significant cookie delay.

We had to make two turns thanks to Mr Ants-in-my-horseshoes Woody. He always starts trotting. Then we have to stop and wit for him to calm down. I really did try to help him out.

"Woody, you have to just think mellow thoughts."

"Woo Hoo! We're going BACK! We're done!"

"Woody, I've been here before. We might go right back in the pasture filled with the tiny rocks and have to run in all these circles and ..."

"Not a chance! We're done! I can tell... Oh, wait... What? Back up? Again? When we are so CLOSE?"

Sigh. He must have had to do 20 circles and 45 back steps.

Anyway we were pretty close to the barn when suddenly it happened! Out of the little square building a LION LUNGED BEHIND ME! No kidding! You could tell because the door on the little building flew open with so much force that it swung.

It had to be a darn fast lion, because I didn't quite see it. Just the little building there, with the door opening and closing a few times.

I was on edge then. I'd scooted my but away from those claws and then, with complete disregard for our safety, was forced to look at the little building and the door.

Where was the lion, you might ask. I was about to find out.

We turned away from the Lion's ... den and took maybe three steps when it happened. The lion leaped off the stack of hay on the other side of the road! Once again I managed to scoot away, lifting my hooves high, preparing to strike the horrible beast.

It had disappeared again.

I asked Woody, who finally arrived at the wash rack if he saw the lion, which I was sure was still lurking around.

"Canyon. There are no lions. Zero. Zip. And I told you we were done!"

"We would have been done 20 minutes ago if you hadn't been trotting! Because of you we had to circle over and over. And if we'd been done I wouldn't have very nearly been KILLED BY LIONS!"

"I was right next to you. There was no lion."

I snorted. "You should thank your lucky stars you've got me around. If I wasn't watching out for your big behind you would have been served up as lunch today. Three times!"

Woody gave a great big shake, which I've learned is his way of expressing gratitude. He has a tough time with showing his emotions. It's a gelding thing.

We headed back to our pasture, almost to safety when I saw it.

The lion was back. It was coiled ready to spring, to satisfy it's desire for Arabian/Paint horsemeat, which had been too often denied. I stood there frozen as I watched mom walk straight towards the lion. I tried to warn her, but she just made those weird soft sounds while right there at her feet...

At her feet...

Was the lion! It flicked its tail and she took it's paw and shook it!

Okay, I know what you're thinking. Mom had obviously become a traitor, a Benedict Arnold, a Brutus to her Ceasar!

Yes, I would have thought the same thing a few months ago. But I've come to accept that she's not an agent of evil.

I think.

Anyway, she kept shaking the paw of the lion until it ever so slowly transformed into a YELLOW CANVAS TARP! Remarkably like the one they cover the hay with so horses can't just grab a bite when they walk by because these poor horses are starving on this 4 flakes at a sitting thing... It was an incredible act of magic, actually. Not many moms can manage it.

So, after I was convinced, thoroughly convinced, that the transformation to tarp was complete, I STEPPED OVER THE LION TARP.

Okay, it took two tries and she had to yank on the rope, just a little. But still.

Needless to say, I got TWO cookies and the colt was very, very, impressed.

Let this be a lesson. When a hungry wind rises and threatens everyone around you...
keep your Arabian/Paint horse inside the barn. It's far too dangerous for most of us... er, them.

The Tarp That Almost Killed Me By Canyon

Part one: You have got to be kidding me... Ride in this?


I asked my "mom" (I call her that, she seems to like it and it does result in additional cookie delivery...) to bring the laptop out to the stables to give me an opportunity to tell, in first person, the incredible story of my survival on Monday.

After realizing that the keyboard is way too delicate for even my tiny and highly accurate hoof placements, we've opted for dictation instead (sorry about that, mom. But wasn't the inside of that white thing really interesting?). So if there are any misspellings in this story, please keep in mind that I'm relying on others to transcribe my tale.

Ahem. Okay, let's get started.

The day started out with a dangerous tinge to it. We horses are highly attuned to tinges, and I was tinged out. Frankly I knew that we were headed out into a situation fraught with peril as soon as I felt that hungry wind flutter through my mane. Surely she was joking about riding that day. Everyone knows how ridiculously dangerous it is to ride on a day when the wind stirs up every possible thing with teeth, claws, and an unhealthy hankering for nice, fresh horsemeat. Especially the exceedingly rare Arabian/Paint horsemeat, which is well known among predators as a delicacy.

I prayed that mom would come to her senses, deliver my long over due cookie ration and go on her merry way in the red thing that she rides inside of.

But it was not to be. My second in command, Woody, was standing by the wash rack as I tried to alert him to the danger.

"Can you believe this? They are taking us out in these dangerous conditions? We have to talk some sense into them!"

Woody blinked and sighed. "Let's just go. I need a break from that colt. I had to run him all around the pasture today. And where were you? Couldn't you get your head out of the hay for just a minute?"

I snorted. "I'm a finely tuned animal who requires precise amounts of sustenance or I'll come apart right when the lion makes it's final lunge."

"Canyon. There are no lions."

"Ha! Well, I'll remind you of that ridiculous theory when you are trying to buck off those carnivores as they sink their teeth into that big fat hindquarter of yours. I'll be safe at the barn, writing your epitaph!"

He laughed, or something, I was ignoring him by that point since he was clearly of no help whatsoever. In no time we were saddled up and it was time to go.

As we were headed out I hoped that we'd just stop and keep it at a quick fifteen minute work out in the tiny round pasture with the silver things and dirt floor. We did that once. All dressed up, around in circles, then woo hoo! Cookie Time! I loved that day. I think about it every time we go out.

But noooo. We had to go where ALL the lions are.

A trail ride.

I tried to keep an eye peeled for danger, but mom just kept turning me and having me do these complex hoof movements like we were in some sort of weird mating ritual. How's a horse supposed to watch for predators if all you do is "go left. now right. now stop. now trot. let's spin"?

It's impossible. The woman is obsessed with these moves. Ah well, sometimes you just have to let the reins take you where you will, you know?

Fortunately all the lions remained in hiding, held at bay, no doubt, by my fancy footwork and commanding presence. But I must have let my guard drop on our way back from the woods and that's when they sensed it. (They know when you are easy pickin's. It's uncanny.)

It was the first of three attacks and came as we were weaving through the trees (another recent obsession she's picked up from some stupid horse magazine).

That's where it was. The snake. Carefully camouflaged to look a lot like a piece long piece of wood. But how would you explain how it jumped onto my leg! Impossible! Wood does not jump! Snakes jump! Especially at Arabian/Paint horses!

I high stepped a couple times until the snake was dead, resisting the desire to do what any lesser horse would have done, like bolting for the hills. After accepting the compliments from mom for my considerable courage which saved us all from the dangers of the deadly snake cleverly hidden in the trees, I returned to safer ground to meet with Woody.

And of course Woody, the big oaf, hadn't even noticed the snake. Claims he saw a "branch" that I kicked up as I was walking around. Yesh. I tell you, that horse is as blind as a bat.

And that was just the beginning.

Tomorrow: Part two: Courage under fire