Patience and Lightness

On Friday, I decided to be better prepared for Saturday's lessons with Cherry, so as a good instructor should, I spent a "schooling session" with her this afternoon I equipped her with a bareback pad and the hackamore (the jaquima, a bosal hackamore...not the mechanical variety that has flooded the horse industry). Due to her severe underbite, I'd rather not use a bit on her. She goes pretty well in the bosal, but last week she was heavy and a little unresponsive with one of my students. She was also in heat. But then she was amazing with another student, following her 5-year-old leader over a tarp.

Trust

I started with leading her and asking her to trot alongside me and transition to the walk when I slowed down. She was quite compliant and maintained a good expression. She picked me up from the fence without trouble. Once on her back, I began picking up a soft feel and waiting various spans of time for her to give to the pressure of my hands taking the slack out of the reins. Waiting with more patience than I think anyone has ever given Cherry, she eventually softened, and softened, and softened. I watched our shadow to ensure my timing was appropriate with my releases. She began licking and chewing after I gave her a big release for Cherry putting slack into the reins.

I rode her and worked on keeping her straight and centered, leg yielding, and bending...always conscious of the need to release when she complied with what I asked. And then I asked with less by opening a leg rather than squeezing her to yield from the other. Sometimes, she moved through the open door. If she missed it, I would bring the other leg to her side and lightly send her into the open space.

This isn't the lightest any horse has ever been with someone, but this is the lightest I've felt from Cherry, I thought.

I need to get Drifter out.

So I found a good spot to stop Cherry with softness. She didn't stop soft, so I waited for her to back off of my hands.  She is a good horse. Unbelievable she's a rescue. Her riders need to be respectful with her because I know she will respond.

Drifter was soon in hand and ready to go. I am certain that my groundwork can get lighter with him. I walked toward him and he stepped away, rocking back to sink a hind foot in the dirt while moving his front feet around. I pulled on the leadrope but immediately stopped and refocused, then stepped away from him and he followed, and then toward him while he kept the same distance stepping away from me.

The tarp has been sitting in the middle of the arena for a week. Drifter is not progressing very well to walking over it. He placed a quarter of a front hoof on it a few days ago, but hasn't offered since. I keep hearing my mentor's voice in my head, "don't make it about the tarp." So as I worked on maintaining this beautiful space between us, we floated around the arena in a dance, and edged our way closer and closer to the tarp.

I felt my own anxiety rise by getting too close to the tarp. I didn't want to ruin the moment, but as I looked at Drifter's soft eye and ear cocked toward me, I could see that he was not focused on the tarp. I guided him away from it and decided that in time, we will cross the tarp with complete trust. But this was not going to be that time.

I got on him with the same minimal tack I used on Cherry. My intent was to ride with "as little as it takes to get a change" and he responded with amazing lightness. But then I became aware of my own lightness. No sooner did I open a rein was he already meeting me at the intended destination. And again, we floated. Sometimes slowing down can really teach you something.

EQUU8's excited horsemanship lesson kids want to go fast and do all the things they see on TV or in the movies. But I think slowing down and letting them explore this is going to be very beneficial. And these early lessons are preparing me for my upcoming therapeutic session that starts mid-April.

On Saturday morning, I started my student with groundwork, then showed her how to get a soft feel and a one-rein stop. She could feel Cherry get light in her hands. She might not know exactly what that means yet, but she smiled when it happened.

I will let photos of Saturday's lessons speak for themselves. It was a good day.

Waiting for softness

A quiet moment

Responsibility and building strength

In Transition

I have a dozen unfinished blog entries. But my plan is, starting late next month, to blog regularly...as my life will be heading down a different path.

Two weeks ago, my friend Al called and asked if I could take her horse Jack for a month. She had tried to sell him, but the sale fell through and she just didn’t have the time or resources to deal with the problems he had. She bought him about 8 months ago, he was supposedly a dead-broke “beginner” horse, but she had some trouble letting friends ride him. Then when she invited a friend, who is a capable rider, to take him cattle sorting with her, Jack had a major meltdown. Al knew he had issues with being buddy sour, but when the cows came out, he was uncontrollable. They left him tied to the trailer to throw a fit while Al sorted on her horse.

Al decided to give Jack one last chance. Either get a tuneup so he is worth keeping, or get tuned up enough to sell.

I’d ridden Jack twice before…at the Murrieta Equestrian Center and again to shoot a video of him to post for sale. In that short amount of riding time, I discovered he moves off your legs pretty responsively, he can do a 360 degree turn on his hindquarters, and has a slow lumbering lope that feels like he is counter cantering or cross firing. But that afternoon, I was warned that his arena manners were limited to the arena, and if they had left with their horses, he would have another dangerous meltdown.

Jack

 So Saturday, June 22, she trailered him up and I decided to take him sorting that night. Siri joined me with Bandit and we arrived early to ride a bit before sorting started. Jack was very alert to the cattle while tied to the trailer, but his warm up was enjoyable. Since I was unsure how he’d react to the cattle, I informed all the sorters that evening that I couldn’t help gather the cows to move them to the sorting pens. I am glad I remained cautious.

He balled up like a gymkhana horse ready to race speed poles, coiling back and sideways, refusing to bend. I teetered on a thread of popping him up with the reins, working a block and release, and just tried to keep his feet moving in some direction other than up. Once the cows were on their way to the pen, he freed up and cautiously followed, but felt pretty unstable. We watched a few riders sort, then I asked Siri to support me and Jack and we rode into the sorting pens.

Jack flattens his ears when he gets focused on a cow. Pardon the mule ears.

The goal was just to get Jack to get the feeling of moving the cattle. He was uncertain, but Siri and Bandit rode alongside us and helped encourage him to move forward. We used our two minutes to transfer the herd from the east pen to the west pen. We repeated this several turns, and when we exited the pens, Jack was pretty attached to Bandit and went back into gymkhana mode when Siri rode across the arena. I worked at bending him in serpentines until he would relax somewhat and give him a release. The fourth time in the pens, Jack sorted a cow…then another…then another, while Siri and Bandit blocked the gate. The fifth time, we were sorting as a team, switching of as gate and sort horse and Jack seemed to get the hang of it.

Good boy!

I suggested to Siri that we make Jack a winner and not separate him from Bandit that evening. Dealing with the buddy-sourness could be done later. We loaded up and headed home. I suggested to Siri that it would reduce stress for Bandit, who was going to his new home at Siri’s house that night, if we unloaded them, and let them settle, then load Bandit again to take him to her house. Siri unloaded Bandit and began to head to the barn. Jack was looking over the divider of the trailer and when I went to untie him he impatiently  raced backwards to exit the trailer to be with Bandit. When he hit the end of the leadrope, he went into fight mode, thrashing with his hind feet out of the trailer. I watched silently and fearfully as he fought the pressure on the halter as he thrashed between the closed left door and the right wall of the trailer, thankful that the left door was closed to provide me with a safe place to stand without being beheaded.

As soon as it started it was over and Jack stepped back into the trailer for me to help him. I worked the tightly wound slipknot loose and backed him out of the trailer. Travis told me his hind legs were underneath the trailer at one point.

Noted. He is reeeeeally buddy sour.

So Sunday, I decided I needed to face that problem. One that I have had experience working through personally on Jake (my homework assignment coming home from Buck's 2009 clinic was how to completely rid your horse of buddy sourness), but was able to witness Buck work his young horse Gidget through it in 2011. It was a perfect display of patience and it worked.

So Sunday, I asked Jack to leave my arena, which is attached to my corrals housing Jake and Drifter. As they called, his anxiety increased and he wanted to turn back. I let him return to the arena where I worked him at the trot and lope, letting him choose to stay or leave. When he decided to leave, I let him walk quietly. When he wanted to return, I picked up the pace and let him be near Jake and Drifter as long as he was moving and busy. I made a couple of passes around my house, where he could not see Jake and Drifter, but could hear them. And we repeated the process of stay or leave, Jack's choice, but staying was going to be more difficult. After about a half hour of this, he decided we could walk off the property on the far side of my house, where he could hear my horses, but was ok with leaving. We rode down the street and returned after about 10 minutes and before he could change his mind and get upset.

Jack's choice was eventually to head down the road. (I know I said I would quit taking pictures while riding...oops)

I let him soak on his success on Monday, but got him back out on Tuesday to try again. This time, he only wanted to return once and then was ready to go for a ride. We went out on the lakebed and walked, trotted, and lumberingly loped.

The beautiful lakebed, with miles of area to lope.

Wednesday, I decided to try cows again with Jack and trailered him alone to the arena. He cried in the trailer as we left the house, but he wasn't too bothered when we got to the arena. Still alert at seeing cattle, he let me saddle him and warm up with little trouble. The big difference from his previous sorting night was that he was totally ready to work cows, and did not act like gymkhana horse. He sorted great, got some great blocks, and really seemed to enjoy the job.

Yes, I understand I am a pig farmer for riding him like this.

I anticipate I need to spend a few more sessions on his buddy sourness until that is resolved, but this 15 year old horse can learn a few new tricks.

Anniversary Ride...

In other news, Travis joined me on a horseback ride to celebrate our 16th wedding anniversary. Drifter was a squirrel when we first headed out, but settled once across the lakebed and we rode up to The Eye Of God, which is a quartz rock formation that stands out in the arid forest with its bright white crystals. Travis seemed to enjoy trotting Jake and figuring out whether Jake was trying to pull one over on him by pretending to be exhausted.

We were out for about 3 hours (Travis will add an hour to that estimate) and I planned on washing them off, when he came out and asked how to bathe Jake.

"Just point the hose at him," I said.

I can't tell if they bonded over this experience, but it was worth it! For me, anyway.

A break from horsemanship.Here comes depression...

Old Man Winter has come to Big Bear early this year. Not only did we get snow in early October, but November 4 brought a few inches of fresh snow.

Think he's been chewing Orbit gum?

My little Drifter had apparently gone to Burlington Coat Factory in October and got himself some thick winter fleece that far surpassed the attempts Jake and Willow were making for coats. Regardless, in advance of the storm, I blanketed all three.

Blanketing was a terrifying thing for Drifter back in March when I brought him home from Angel's Camp. We were hit with 80 mph gusts the first night at "Brown Jail" (a nickname for my barn, since Drifter came from the Emerald Bliss of Central California). Those gusts would lift the blanket sideways like the flag on the moon and Drifter was certain I was going to strangle or suffocate him with it. But upon the third blanketing of his life (after a summer of lots of handling and about 10 rides), the little guy stood with all four hooves in cement while I wrapped his little body with a big warm blue Weatherbeeta hug.

Cold jail.

So it's cold. Darn cold. And it's dark before I pull into the driveway now. It's the beginning of what I call my winter depression.

Also, I have an upcoming marathon. A few months ago, before I knew better, I signed up for the Rock N Roll Marathon in Vegas on December 4 (with their enticing tagline: "The World’s Largest Nighttime Running Event"). I've made a valiant attempt to train 'barefoot' with the hopes of completing this marathon without running shoes. I hit the streets in my Vibram FiveFingers (they're kindof like gloves for your feet) in snow conditions. That was a unique experience. My feet ended up getting really wet. I was pummeled by heavy snowballs being chucked at my head by windblown tree limbs. And the hems of my pants got so soaked that I was running on them. Each step with wadded up cold cotton pantlegs around my feet got more and more annoying until I started to run holding up the waist, which really began to mess up my gait.

I had to hold up my pants to see my VFFs.

I endured this misery for about 7 miles until I had to drop-trou at Gino's Tires in Bear City. I had some slick running capris on so I wasn't completely bare, but the Old Man Winter was gnawing on my fishbelly white skin with his frosty teeth. And I still had three miles to go! 

This really doesn't look that bad, does it?

And that wasn't the worst of it. 

There's something that happens to a lot of runners when they are putting down some long, hard miles. Let's put it this way, if I was running a marathon, I was thinking about a cheerleader on the sidelines holding up a sign like this: 

She must run marathons...

I didn't. But I really thought about it. And I survived my first miserably cold, barefoot running experience. I'd like to tell you how "zen" it felt with giant snowflakes surrounding me as if the road was my snowglobe. And yeah, maybe there was a moment when the song Alice on my iPod told me "I will get by. I will survive." And I looked up and some snowflakes were floating approximately 5.8 miles per hour alongside me. But I was kindof having an emergency and couldn't enjoy it as much as I would have liked to.

It took hours for my core temperature to get back from the dead.

No, I am not much of a winter girl at all.