Ramblings in Lieu of Anything Important

Generally, a lack of blogs would make a person guilty of being lazy, but I think in this case, since the whole point of this is to track my progress with The Horse, it just means I'm a lazy rider. I rode Too in BO's Wednesday lesson a week or two ago, and usually when she lets me sneak my horse into one of her classes, I leave after the flat half of the lesson. On this particular day, she asked if I wanted to stay and jump a bit. I could feel myself get a bit green around the gills, but considering the class consisted of an age group seven to fifteen years younger than me, and the jumps were sized accordingly (as in, for the hardcore seven-year old and stoic ten year-old girl in the class), my pride made me stay. It's hard to maintain a good image when you run squealing from a two foot vertical with a step rail. I did make one concession to utter wimpdom and verify to BO that I was going to trot the jump. Every time.

First jump: the aforementioned two foot vertical with a step rail. When it was our turn in line, we proceeded to pick up a lofty, green dressage horsey trot around the ring to our fence. Approach fence, ears confusedly pricked forward, yet not too bad. At least, we didn't knock the whole thing down, and barely touched the pole. As we cantered scurrily away, I called back to BO: "Is she as awful as I think she is?" "Nah, that's actually all right!"

Second jump: same vertical. CLUNK. Nuff said.

Third jump: same. Less clunking, but an alarming glimpse of flailing knees from the corner of my right eye. BO hesitantly saying that "she just needs to learn to use her butt more."

Fourth jump: By this point, Too IS using her butt...at least for our anti-climatic trot to the new jump. She is thrusting off of her hindquarters with every stride, and beautifully light in my hands and well rounded... until I aim her at the actual fence, which is another jump with a steprail before it, this time a low ladder type jump with a plain white pole over it. Maybe a hair over two feet, but not much. Picture, if you will: the shrimpy human astride a snorty mare who makes it obvious with her progressively more airborne trot and approach that signifies she is actually in a western arena running poles that she does not agree with this. Doubtful trainer off to the side offering, "Eyes up and leg on. Um, not so much that she rockets off. Good. Now... Whoops!" as the mare, still in the faraway western arena, trots the steprail and does a fabulous rollback just in front of the jump. Doubtful trainer pauses to remove top rail. Snorty McPranceypants approaches again. Trots the pole, pauses in midair and...CLUNK. Rinse and repeat. Or rather, run away, and THEN rinse and repeat if desired.

We've been working on it.

I don't want or need a jumping horse (as I proved to myself by muttering to the horse on every approach, "You are Marco you are Marco you are Marco oh my god a jump YOU ARE MARCO!" to keep from panicking), but it seemed to help sit her back for her flat work, so we'll do a bit of cross training on low fences to help. Not to mention developing a little bit more trust, instead of the mare thinking I'm a moron for aiming her at solid things like I don't have eyes or sense, and her silently thinking it's a good thing she's got all those legs.

I rode her with a friend this past Friday and had a pretty good ride. We sort of just poked around, but it was very fun, relaxing poking around. I intended to drag Boyfrand out to the barn Saturday to actually get some work done and coerce him into taking some new riding pictures. Unfortunately, we got caught up doing all kinds of adult things like buying the last book in the Hunger Game series, eating Hardees breakfast at 10:45, and buying and setting up a dining room table to replace the plastic folding one we've had since we moved into the house a year and a half ago.

So on Sunday, when I ended up being at the barn an hour later than usual, and the new boarder was riding her horse, I figured I might as well go grab Too out of her pasture and have a pleasant 15 minute hack before going home.

Isn't that ALWAYS when the bad rides happen? When you decide you just want to play? Something ALWAYS happens that, by god, you are going to FIX before you give up! Horse won't pick up the right lead, or does something that you decide you have to fix so he "doesn't get away with it" and then it just escalates into something far, far beyond your short pleasant hack. About four or five years ago, when Taylor was here, we set up the oldest, crappiest horse trailer BO had at the end of the small ring, hitched to a truck with the gate to the ring opened into the trailer, with Tay's food in the trailer, and he didn't eat unless he got in the trailer. I had come out to ride Ben, for a "short pleasant hack" out in the pasture. Which we had. Fifteen minutes of cheerful moseying about in the field...after which I rode him through the gate, through the small ring which was currently empty, and tried to take him past the horse trailer so I could ride around behind the barn to where his stall is.

Forty-five minutes later, Benny still would not go past the damn trailer and I was crying and cussing and Benny was doing airs above the ground and galloping in reverse and cussing as well. But damn it, he was going to walk past the &*^%@! trailer!! Oh no, no he wasn't. I finally dismounted and led him up to it, at which point he dropped his sweaty head, sniffed the trailer, said, Oh hey you're a horse trailer, Mom can I eat now? And walked away cool as a cucumber.

Sunday was one of those days. I should know by now that she's usually going to be a pain when she's absolutely quiet in the crossties. Generally she wiggles a bit, nickers at the horses in the pasture, and that's fine, she rides well those days. But if she stands there, still as a statue and absolutely mum...that means she is concentrating, she is storing up all of her energy to make my life miserable, and I should maybe have a stiff drink before I mount up. Luckily I can count those rides on one hand at this point, but then again, I've only had her since January. How's that for optimism?

She was not with me. She was anywhere but with me. BO's husband was driving around in her pasture in the golf cart, and that was the thread that unravelled her. She was so fractious, overreactive, and nervous about her friends that I rode her for over an hour until she gave me her attention for more than a split second, at which point I dismounted and called it a day. There may or may not have been a lot of shoulders and haunches in before that point, I'm not saying. I am quite certain she used muscles she didn't even know she had. Hopefully the lesson she learned from Sunday was to not be a bitch to the human on Sundays, because the human has no where to be on Sundays and has all the time in the world to work the hiney off of a bitchy cow.

So yesterday, I decided to lunge her in side reins to work her a little bit, since I didn't have time for a ride, unless it was a short ride, and I just covered the probable path THAT would have taken...I started her out floppy loose and slowly worked her up to a bit of contact, which she semi-accepted at the end of a 15 minute session. I don't know that she learned anything, but I learned that it would be interesting to see her in a sulky race against Standardbreds.

This doesn't nearly, NEARLY, do it justice.

However, Friday is my birthday and hopefully I can coerce SOMEONE into snapping some shots of us this weekend.

(P.S. I don't want to give off the impression that I'm not happy with Too; chances are she is in heat or something equally girly and ridiculous, and no one ever cares about her feelings, and she really just wanted some chocolate or something, blah blah, I can totally relate. Generally I enjoy her and I understand she will have her days and hey, the golf cart WAS quite rattley and for all she knew, might have eaten her friends without her to protect them.)

In other news, Fiona went back to the horse trader last week. Turns out, the situation was not going to work out with her being a beginner lesson pony (saw that one coming as soon as she got food into her.) Hopefully HTF (who is one of those ethical horse traders who happens to find horses in crappy condition) can place her in a suitable home where she will be much enjoyed. And hopefully she will keep her name because it is the shit.

Too is getting shiny and buff:

Psst: Bye, Feefs!

Is an absolute goofball:



No really, I watched her make this face in the pasture for five straight minutes today.

Is not interested at all in making friends with Ben:

I mean, honestly, could YOU resist him?

Who is unconcerned, because he has been adopted by Dear Vet's ancient Appendix, Bar:

And has a puncture under his left jaw the size of Texas:

Which I panicked over, calmed down, Dear Vet deemed a puncture and started him on antibiotics (which, I would like to brag, he eats out of my hand like candy)

(which, I'm terrified to keep him on too much longer, since antibiotics for a respiratory problem several years ago threw him into two weeks of colicking and me thinking I was going to lose my best friend)

(which, I think he remembers, because he actually started spitting them out today)

And is not impressed with my doctoring attempts, since they involve standing in the death trap crossties. I don't know WHY, but he is petrified of this wash rack. He is okay in any OTHER wash rack, except for one similar to this at the barn BO sold to move to this place. He turns into a scrambling turkey on acid in here, as you can see by the bulging eyes and very offensive posture.

I need a horse whisperer. I don't get it.

And that's all, folks. I'll end with a picture of one of my favorite views in the world.

Of course that's Ben's little nose poking out of there. Too is next to him, but she's just too dark or antisocial to make an appearance.











 

Fee Fi Fo Fum, I'm an Oooogre!

When I was working out the trade between PJ and Too, BO told me that one of her horse trader friends really wanted PJ for her daughter. She knew his breeder and had always loved him. She said she could try to find me a nice Arab or a cute pony similar to Marco, and we could trade. I felt pretty awful about it, but I really wanted Tooey and went through with the trade for the mare. A week or two later, Horse Trader Friend brought a pony out that BO purchased from her to eventually put in the lesson program. She pulled this cute little buckskin mare off the trailer, and while we stood there awkwardly waiting for BO to come out of the house, HTF asked me if I'd "traded PJ off." I awkwardly blabbed that, yes, I had, I'd gotten a chunky little TB cross and we were having so much fun, I was enjoying her, blah blah blah, and HTF eyeballed the cute buckskin pony, and gave me a small, barely discernable smile that could only be described as...smug. Sort of...well, you could have had this cute little buckskin pony if only you had done business with me. In yo' faaace!

I looked at the pony and thought, Crap! I could have had this cute little buckskin pony! 

She was a little puny, a little thin, a little long in the back, six years old and just shy of 14hh, had a horrible haircut that (I am sorry to offend!) many western people seem to do; you know the one. Have scissors, will cut...straight across. And voila! Razor sharp bowl cut! But boy was she cute! BO told me to throw her in the round pen for a minute while she and HTF worked out business. As I was walking her over, she followed me quietly and I was thinking, man oh man I could have HAD THIS PONY! Walked her into the round pen, turned her around and she nearly plowed over me to get back out of the pen. Hey now, rudeypants, don't be an ogre! 

Her name was obvious... Fiona.

You know...

A pretty pretty princess...

Who is an OGRE! (couldn't find a sufficiently ogre-ish picture of Fiona)

For a while, getting Fiona to move forward under saddle was a trial. BO had asked me if I would be willing to ride the pony to get her ready for the kids, and I said of course, I will ride any pony you have! I don't regret having Tooey, but ponies really are so much fun and I missed having a little pony to scoot around on. However, Fiona didn't do much scooting. She sucked back like nothing I have ever ridden before. I would ask for a trot, get a few steps of trot, and then suddenly be on her ears when she hit the breaks. Trot on a few steps, suck back. Trot on a few steps, pin ears, prop, pin ears some more, kick kick kick the pony, grudging trot... Six years old, but still very green and not ever made to go forward off the leg. The first morning I rode her, it was forty-five degrees outside, and when our ride was done, I brought her back into the barn, pulled off my sweater, and dumped ice cold water on my head, and did my best to not black out. I told myself when I rode Too that afternoon, I would throw my arms around her neck and praise her and her forward movement and the lack of asthma attacks I get while riding her. After several rides, I had her moving along and even doing some semblance of a canter.  

Fiona was at our barn two or three weeks when I got the plague from Boyfrand. An entire week is pretty much blank in my memory, except long periods of coughing and sneezing and pounding pressure in my skull. When I came back to work the next week, BO asked me to put in a short ride on Fi. I don't really remember tacking her up; everything was still sort of hazy at this point, but I figured the worst that could happen was the ogre pony took advantage of me and we reverted back to lazy, non-forward for a ride.

While I had been sick, Fi also came down with a tiny cough, and BO had the vet put her on antibiotic pills to squash it before it turned into a full blown respiratory issue. We also had worked up her feed intake, and she was finally being fed enough and was gaining a little weight. The combination of being properly fed and having some medicine wipe out whatever the pony undoubtedly had had in her system when she got to our barn made Fiona feel gooooooooood. Puny, slightly underweight Fiona was pokey and needed a strong ride. Healthy Fiona was forward (mostly) and....bucked.

She almost had me. I was in a daze and not expecting pokey puny Fiona to have any spit in her. I corrected her and we moved on. She was definitely a little sour on the side of the ring near the mares' pasture, and to this day, that is still the side of the ring where she gives me issues. She still throws a buck now and then, but usually her M.O. with me is attempted intimidation. Don't you hate when you're riding a big horse and he pins his ears, bows up his back and snakes his head down? On a tiny horse, it isn't so scary, just annoying. One warning squawk from me and she usually goes on without trying anything, but definitely probes at the boundaries every once in a while. She'll need a lot of wet saddle pads before she's really ready for the lesson program, but now that she actually MOVES, I'm kinda having fun with her.

(Still like my mare better, though)

Typical "you can't make me" moment

Effing sideways AGAIN! She's a cute little mover, though. We're just letting her plug along with her nose in the air for the time being. Starting to work on it a bit more now that she's had her teefs done.

She has the most hilarious ears.

 

   

Somebody Please Come Sit Me On My Horse

And if you could tack her up first, that would be wonderful!

It is so hard to be motivated to ride my own horses after spending all day at the barn caring for other peoples' horses and teaching other people (even miniature ones) how to ride. By the time 530 rolls around and I've chased all the munchkins away, I just want to go home and it's hard to be motivated to catch up Too, tack her up, get something accomplished, and maybe make it home in time to grab something from a fast food joint for supper, take a shower, and fall into bed. Some mornings I'm able to drag myself out of bed early so I can ride before work, but then I'm pooped before my day is halfway through.

I think the lesson in this is that I just have to drink more coffee. Or start taking stimulants.

I'm kidding. I think.

Sometimes I'm lucky and don't have a student on a day when I can ride with BO's lessons. That is usually once a week. I try to get out of bed on Tuesdays to ride in the morning, and always make it on Fridays to ride... But what am I accomplishing riding three days a week? I have got to become motivated if I want things to change. So if any of you have a cattle prod and want to chase me in the general direction of my horse and saddle...

Since I have not ridden but once since my last post, I'll continue my journey with the photos I do have since the last post. Those were beginning/mid February. These photos are March 16. Keep in mind, I'm going to do my best to show a lot of humiliating photos, and be skimpy on the good photos. I want to SHOW myself and all of you what I need to work on...but maybe still throw in a good one in the interest of keeping my self esteem away from the worms.

The things I see that she and I need work on:

Her: Idiot tendencies. Getting fewer and further between as she trusts me more. But she just HAD to make sure this chair was not a North American Mare Eating Serpent.

Me: First and foremost, the thing that makes me want to weep on the floor when I see pictures of me doing it: This godawful chairseat with the archy back and my whole entire butt touching the saddle in places that it should never touch, in the "sit" stage of posting. I do not have this problem while sitting the trot; instead I just look like a defeated wiggly earthworm.

Me: Shoulders down and back, elbows bent and at my sides, thumbs up...you know, the basics. Right shoulder doesn't look too crazy here. Her: The time of plowing through my hands is OVER, biatch!

Me: Speaking of the right shoulder...

That's all fine and dandy; I have been making myself sit straight in the car, rolling my shoulders down and back, and I feel like it's helping my posture regardless. As long as I can remember to keep my legs under me, I think we will be able to fix the trot right sharpish.

Moving on to bigger and more horrifying things... the canter.

THAT. What is THAT? Arched back, crotch a mile in front of my base of support, floaty hands because I feel like I'm being light and speshul with her face... (You, with the cattle prod, you can use it on me for this as well. Just zap me backwards please.)

Must learn to support horse around corners (actually, support horse in general) so she does not drop her shoulder like this.

Twisting? Who, me? What twist?

Her: Work on furthering THIS. This is relatively round and collected for her right now, and I notice I'm riding her better when I am able to get her better collected.

I don't want to be a chicken, I don't want to be a duck, so kiss my butt! *clap*clap*clap*

(This picture refuses to upload the correct way, so screw it)

Sitting marginally better, but still, shoulders, and hands are blocking.

And some miscellaneous areas for improvement:

(Okay, someone tell me how to stop this from happening!)

Dear Seester Photographer Who Is Actually Quite Good For Not Being Horsey (to be known as Seester from here on out): Get the good stuff when I'm not behind things. bahaha

And um...just...don't do a whole lot of this until we are magically better at it. Kay.

That's all for now! Hopefully the next post won't be so utterly pointless. But since I don't have cookies, here is a random Too and I video:





 Marchish