Mouthy Mondays-Late Again

Hey guys,
I'm getting this cool story about endurance riding up, it says a lot about getting out and getting it done. I may be missing this week, I am a judge for the Oklahoma Press Association annual competition. We judge each others papers, which is really cool, I'm honored to have been asked to be a judge. Plus I'm learning tons reading all these columns.

I'm also drowning. I have so many articles to read, judge and comment on I'm a little freaked. And really short on time, so I'll be gone for a bit, at least until next week.

In the mean time I'll throw out a question. My daughters retired show mare, Loki, is getting ridden again, by me, after three years off.

She is extremely tight and ungiving on her left side. It's hugely obvious in her lateral work and during her spins.

I haven't been on the horse for at least five years, nobody has ridden her for three.

She's sound and willing to work, but really resistant through the neck, shoulders and ribs. This explains a bunch of the trouble my daughter was having with her during her last show season.

Now I'm planning on fixing her issues. What would you guys do to loosen her up? I have all the time in the world to tackle this.....

I have put her back in a ring snaffle, no other mechanical devices, no drop nose bands etc.

Whaddya think?

WE DID IT!!!!
Saturday, June 20, 2009

I achieved my goal, and finished in less time than last ride! I placed 9th... out of nine... but only 2 minutes after the 8th place finisher!

Summer is finally heating up here. And last weekend's ride was on the first real warm day we've had.

So even though I groaned when I realized I would have to wake up at 6am, I was happy we were scheduled to start an hour earlier than normal.It was a nice relaxing morning for me. I got to the barn by 7 and was on the road by 7:30. I actually arrived on time for once - no rushing!

I got signed up, tacked up and was actually waiting around for the ride to start. Unheard of! It was overcast and breezy, but you could feel the heat coming, so we were all anxious to get started.

I stood around with all the experienced endurance horses at the start line. They were all anxious to get going... Willow was more anxious to get as much grass in her stomach as possible. The time keeper finally said it was a go and we were all off quickly.

Willow and I stretched out in a nice trot, but we were quickly outdistanced by the others. That was OK, I had one person behind me; he had a young horse and wanted to teach her to not gallop like a mad thing at the start. Willow was too sensible to do something like that... that would be too much like work!

We maintained a good trot for about a mile and a half before we were passed by the rider behind us. But that didn't last long as I called him back from the wrong trail.

We continued on. All of a sudden, a pack came up from behind us. I was confused! These people had long outdistanced me! They had taken the wrong trail. Willow and I had a BFO (blinding flash of the obvious)... this meant we were in the lead!

We'd NEVER been in the lead before! Now she got excited! I asked if they (six of them) wanted to pass. But they said Willow was setting a good pace. This surprised me as Willow was 2-3 hands shorter than all of them. And she wasn't even doing her power trot!

Willow was determined to stay in the lead, even though I could feel that she wanted to slow to a walk. She realized that they would then pass her. So she started playing her passive-aggressive/ psychological games. She would suddenly swerve, with no warning to me or the horse behind her, from one side of the trail to the other; like a car in movie chase scene. She would spook at nothing, as if to say "ahhh! It's gonna eat us! Turn around and run away! I'll distract it while you escape! (hehe)". And turning to give the evil eye while dancing around and casting a voodoo hex.

OK, so the last was an exaggeration! BUT SHE WOULD IF SHE COULD!!!Finally, after a mile, I pulled her back and let them pass. I didn't want her to blow her wad, all at the beginning. I got off and walked for a bit, let her cool down. Then I got back on and we began motoring again.

Around mile 6, the rider with the young horse came up behind us. Luckily it was a mare, so Willow wasn't tempted to kick her head of. The ONLY gelding she tolerates seems to be her son. Interesting.

My riding partner had done lots of endurance rides in the past, competing at the Nationals last year, so I took the opportunity to learn. He set the pace, but very soon his young mare refused to pass Willow. She was quite happy being second. And that's how Will liked it!

It started to heat up. We got off and walked a mile or so, trying to get them to drink at the many puddles. I was just hoping Will wouldn't get down and roll like she had last year here. I brought extra shoes this year.We got back on and tried to finish the loop quicker to give us more time for the second one.

We ended up pulsing down in the same time as last ride - 2h 53m. But this time we had already done 15+ miles. I was satisfied.I ran Willow through her vet check - well actually she ran me! I practically had to sprint to keep up with her. The vet said she looked great. She had actually improved on a few of her scores and her slight limp from vet-in had gone away.

We wandered over to the trailer to get some food into Will. I had made up a bowl of soaked alfalfa cubes before I left. I added some ground flax and another 1/2 litre of water and pushed it in front of her. She slurped it up double time and then went over to her hay. I mixed her up a second bowl; 3/4 lbs Grow N' Win pellets, 1+ litre of water and a dose of electrolytes (safe to give her now that I got some water into her). This too disappeared in short order.

I scarfed down a sandwich, then started brushing her off. We were ready ahead of time at the end of our hold, so I let her have some more grass. She needed the water and electrolytes in it for the second loop - it was heating up.

I set out with my riding companion of the first loop.Neither horse was feeling really excited to be leaving camp. By five miles into the second loop, my legs were killing me from constantly urging her on. My companion had given up even any pretence of trying to pass me and set a quicker pace. The young, inexperienced mare wasn't prepared for this type of work and wasn't really feeling like moving very fast.

If I had been alone I could have probably completed faster, as Willow wouldn't have been constantly waiting for the mare behind her. We could have cantered more and made things interesting for her.

While I did cross the finish line before him, I had problems with my HRM and so we pulsed down 2 minutes after the young mare. Oh, well. I had still obtained my goal for the day and was very satisfied with Willow's performance.Willow once again raced me up and down for the trot-out and got great marks for the day. Actually prompting the vet and the scribe to say that this was the best they've ever seen her at a finish, even though she did complete it faster.

Awesome!My goal for the next ride is to keep her in shape over summer and at the August Spruce Woods ride, to complete it another 15 minutes faster. ... now I just need to get hubby to stay home and watch the other animals for the weekend!

http://gotlandendurance.blogspot.com/

Mort Again

I rode down to the arena, tired and worried. It had to be late in the afternoon for the show to be completely done. I wondered what time it was. My mind skipped briefly to my watch, sitting abandoned at the back of my dresser and then skittered away. I squinted up at the sun, it wasn't straight up but it wasn't on it's way over the mountains either, so maybe it was around 2 o'clock. I hoped so anyway.

There was a water pump, but no trough. I turned the pump on and twined my fingers into a bowl. Mort drank, taking great gulps from the gushing water that drained my makeshift bucket and soaked me down for the second time that day.

I wiped down his face and belly with my wet hands. He was ganted up and he had wrinkles under his eyes.

I loosened the cinch and let Mort graze for awhile. My stomach rumbled and I thought about how long it was going to be before I ate.

"I sure don't want to backtrack," I told my weary horse, "maybe we'll go out this road and find another way home."

I laid my head on his butt and closed my eyes. I gave him another ten minutes before we headed out.

After an anxious couple of miles we came to a little grocery store at the corner of our dirt road and a main road.
"Why honey, where did you ride in from?" The lady at the counter said after one look at my grimy clothes and sunburned face.
"I'm from town," I said, "I was wondering if you could tell me the best way home."
"Well you're in Falcon now. If you head out this way you'll end up in Black Forest," she pointed North, "this way will put you right in downtown," she pointed West. "You look about done in, do you want to call somebody?"
"No, no, I'm fine, which way did you say Black Forest was?"

I couldn't imagine who I could call. My butt was getting deeper in trouble every minute. I had friends from my riding club in Black Forest and I knew how to ride home from there. It seemed the best bet.

I felt better as we headed North. I didn't have a clue where I was, but I knew I'd eventually end up somewhere I recognized.

Mort's trot picked up and he seemed a lot cheerier. It might have been my renewed sense of purpose, or he might have had an idea where we were, whatever it was he slid back into his easy, long strided trot and headed the direction I asked.


We felt good enough to stop and cause a little trouble.



There were maybe 8 pairs of cattle drinking at a water tank. I came in through the gate and they scattered as we came up to drink.


Mort snorted and played in the water. He'd bury his nose in deep and make waves by pushing his head back and forth. When he felt the cattle edging back in to share the water he would pin his ears at them, sending them back out.

Once I remounted I hesitated before I turned back to our road.


I'd seen the cowboys do it on TV. Herding cattle couldn't be that hard.


I pointed him to the cattle which were still patiently waiting for us to leave them to to the water. Mort pricked his ears and headed towards them with interest.


We walked around them, bunching them up first. They were easy enough to keep in a bunch, especially since we were circling the water tank.

Then I peeled an old cow off the herd. She trotted around the group, her calf snugged in to her flanks.

We trotted behind her, she disappeared into the herd ahead of us.We peel off another pair, then another. Mort was getting pretty good at pushing them out and we both agreed to stay away from the cows who lowered their heads and shook their horns at us.

Then I decided we could hold one out of the group. It took several tries but we finally cut a cow and calf away from the herd. The cow slipped past us, but we held the calf.

Before I could think of what to do next the calf turned tail, whacked through the lower two strands of the barb wire fence and hightailed it.

I ran up and down the fence looking for a gate as the little calf disappeared into the heat waves shimmering above the pale prairie grass. This was not good.

I looked all around and saw no place to go for help.

It occurred to me I could be shot for cattle rustling and trespassing. Or hung. Or both.

With a guilty conscience I hustled out to the road and headed on my way, trying to look as innocent as possible. I never did see the calf again.

By the time we hit Black Forest, Mort was down to a walk. When I finally found a street I recognized the sun was definitely hanging over the mountains. The heat had picked up for it's final blast before the cool evening would take over for the night.

The shade from the thick pine trees gave us a welcome relief.

We walked along the side of the dirt road, finally close enough to home territory to need to stay out of traffic.

I made one last water stop as I came up on Mike Craig's place, Pine Run Ranch. Mike met me in the yard.

"How did you end up here?" He asked.

As I unfolded my day (sans the cow episode) his eyes grew wide. He looked Mort over, ran his hands down his legs and pinched the skin on his neck.

"Go ahead and give him a drink and let him graze awhile," he said, as he loosened his cinch.

"He seems to be in pretty good shape."

"I've let him rest and drink off and on all day," I told him.

"You look about done in too. Should we call your folks?"

"No, no, let's not do that," my words rushed over each other.

I sat in the grass and leaned back against a fence post. It did feel pretty good to sit still. My legs ached and I felt a pretty good saddle sore starting on the inside of one knee.

I visited with Mike until Mort started to pick his head up and look towards home between bites.

"Are you sure I can't call somebody for you?" Mike asked again.

"You know, I think we'll go ahead and finish it," I said.

Mike stood with his hands in his pockets and a worried look on his face while I cinched my horse back up. I noticed my latigo went up another two holes since the far away morning. Mike watched from the end of his drive until we turned around a bend and disappeared in the trees.

I was so tired I kept dozing off. Mort walked on without my help, sure of the way home now. We travelled steadily, Mort's ears were up and his walk was even. We rode by our riding club as the sun began to sink, came down T-gap road, passed Swede's arena and finally, finally, saw the drive-in on Barnes Rd.

Mort whinnied, his voice was raspy and deep, but he found his trot one more time and we cruised in the last few miles.

I pulled off his tack and was grateful I had remembered to fill his water in the early morning. The cool night air raised goose bumps on my arms. The cold was starting to settle on me and I wished for a jacket. I tossed him half a bale of hay before I picked up my saddle and made my way home.

I slid in the door a little after 8 p.m.

"What happened?" My mother's worried face switched gears into pure pissed as soon as she noted I still had both arms, both legs and there was no blood.

"I got a little lost," I told her.

My weariness was seeping through my bones and I went to sit down on the couch. Somewhere in my fog it registered I must have really scared her because she was letting me sit on the couch in my barn clothes.

I gave my parents an abbreviated version of my day. I saw them glance back and forth at each other, resignation and belated worry crossing their faces.

"Couldn't you have called?" My Dad asked.

We don't have a horse trailer! I shouted in my mind.

"I never found a phone," I said instead.

Later, after I had cleaned up and had my much anticipated cold supper I found myself back on the couch, staring into space in a total stupor.

"Have you ever been so tired you felt heavy?" I asked my Dad.

"I swear, my arm weighs about 1000 pounds." I slowly lifted my arm and let it fall.

Dad came over and sat next to me. He unfolded a map and spread it across our laps.

"Let's track this ride you went on," he told me.

"We talked and whispered, my poor Mom had her fill of me for the day, and figured out the route I had taken.

Mort and I had covered a little over 70 miles.

Mort/Water Holes

I didn't think this was going to be a two-parter, but it is.



I was a little stumbly at 4 a.m. Enough to wake my mother. She come around the corner and into the kitchen, peering at me drinking milk out of the jug, with my boots tucked under my arm and a Ding Dong in the other hand.


Her hair was a little messed and she was tucked into her soft over-sized robe. As usual she looked coolly beautiful in spite of her tired eyes.


"Where are you going?"


"I have a horse show today, I told you."


"Why do you have to leave so early?"


"It's at a new arena, I want to make sure I get there in time."


"Wait a minute, just exactly where is this arena?"


Even at 4 in the morning my mother was one of the sharper tools in the shed.


"It's out east," I told her, "Karen told me I could get there by following the railroad tracks from her house."


"Is she going? Why aren't you catching a ride with her?"


"She's taking two horses today so I have to ride."


"I'm not sure you should ride to an arena you haven't been to before," Mom said.


Her eyes narrowed and she frowned a little just like she did when she worked on the crossword.


"I'll follow the tracks and if I can't get there before noon I'll come home," I assured her.


I started edging towards the door, hoping to get out before she woke up enough to notice I hadn't finished my Saturday morning chores.


"Make it ten, you haven't done your housework," she told me as I slid into the garage to collect my gear.


I clumped down the road with my jeans still stuck half in my boot tops, loaded down with my saddle, bridle and show pad. The cool gray dawn felt clean and a little damp as I made my way down the street, crawled over the Molines back fence, through the ditch and across the field to the barn.


Mort's welcomed me with a hungry nicker as he waited, his neck stretched so he could get his head over the top rail of his reinforced corral.


I threw his hay and three-way in his feeder and cleaned and filled his water tub. I groomed him as he ate. Of course he had a huge green manure stain on his hip.


"Stop moving, we're in a hurry," I said as he stepped away from my scrubbing fingers.


He snorted and buried his head into his hay, unimpressed with my anxiety.


Finally, finally he was done and I saddled him as he tanked up at the water tub. Mort knew me well enough to drink deep before we started out this early in the day.


"If you ride your horse right after he eats keep him in a walk until he passes his first manure," a sage bit of advise from a horsewoman much wiser than me rang clear in my guilty conscience.


Her words helped me walk him for the first ten minutes until I couldn't take it anymore and released him into his long, rolling trot.


Mort blasted air through his nose several times as he settled into his mile eating gait. The sun was up in earnest and the dew laden prairie grass began to crackle and rise as the dry heat rolled to greet us.


The swish of the grass brushing against his legs and the light blue of the horizon deepening into a bowl high over our heads invited us to roam the day away.


It was exciting to be heading someplace new and the prairie lay open in front of us. Within a few miles we would be out of town and crossing the big ranches.


Mort picked up on my growing anticipation and he gave a huge leap to the left as a prairie hen flew up under his nose.


I laughed and grabbed the horn as he jumped again in fun. He kicked into a lope and began to speed up. I leaned forward and let him go. He leveled out and ran. The morning was too glorious to worry about a sweaty coat at the horse show.


Several hours later I was regretting our early morning run. Mort was walking below the tracks, his coat sweated white and crusty. He moved quickly, anxious to be so far from home without a clue where he was.


I was feeling pretty much the same. We had stayed with the tracks, so I knew we weren't lost, but I sure didn't want to turn around and ride the whole way back.


Mile after mile had rolled under Mort's steady feet. We hadn't passed a soul. I had stopped and let him drink at a cattle tank. While he drank I stripped his saddle and splashed him down with double handfuls of water.


I had looked around us and saw nothing but prairie. The only sounds were the creak of the windmill and the buzzing flies.


The sun was high and hot enough to dry Mort within minutes.


I took another quick glance around and stripped my shirt. I dunked my whole head in the tank and soaked my arms and chest.


I looked into my sweaty cowboy hat and wondered how the cowboys in the olden days ever managed to drink out of them.


"Ugh," I told Mort, "if it's drink out of this or die I guess we're done for."


I saddled him again and soaked my head one more time before we left. I tied my shirt to my saddle strings as Mort trotted off, the breeze against my bare skin made me shiver. I stretched my arms out from my sides and stood high in my stirrups.


Now it was hours later and the only reminder of our our cool reprieve was the sore a drying bra strap had rubbed next to my armpit.


We crested a long rolling hill and I pulled up. Mort cut loose with a long and lonesome whinny. The empty show grounds spread out below us.


We had missed the whole thing.

Toothy Tuesday (oops)

I can't believe I forgot what day it was, but I did.

Stillearning said: "Unspoken fear can radiate a very sneaky, negative effect; it often masquerades as common sense."

This says almost everything I've ever wanted to say. I want it in a needle point for my wall.

Right next to the needle point which says, "They're all gentle (horses) until you piss them off."

I credit that one to the Big K, he says I said it, I don't know who did, but I love it.

OK, so I don't needle point, but I can dream can't I?

Here's our Mouthy Monday Entry-

Emilie is from another country, you can feel the flavor of her language in the way she writes. I hope she writes us and tells where she's from.


This is a long one, for wordy Wednesday… I don’t have a blog, but I probably should!


This is the story of how horses got into my life.

We had just ended kindergarten and were moving up to grade school. On the first day of class, I was nervous, I was in first grade, used to having my sister around, my twin sister… but since my mom felt we needed to be independent and learn to live without each other, we weren’t in the same class. I was lost without her… and I didn’t want to talk to any of the other kids.

We had a break for a little snack at about 10 am. Then, out of nowhere, this girl starts talking to me, I’d never seen her before, she was new in our school. We exchanged some snacks and were best friends since. I learned she had a horse and got interested in visiting the barn.

Keep in mind, I was 6 years old. So we went to the barn with my new friend’s mom. This horse was great, she was a haflinger and she was an ANGEL! We couldn’t ride her, because mom was a little reluctant to let us get on this horse.

So, in the same year, I guess we had pestered the mom so much, that she brought us to ride… I will never forget the smell, the feel of the horse moving and the leather in my hands.

From then on… I never wanted to be off of a horse. I asked my parents if I could get a horse, I always dreamed of a tall Palomino that I would’ve named AliBaba. So for about 8 years, we rode that horse every day of the summer when we were off from school, and every weekends.

We’d take turns and ride the horse in a large part of the pasture. One day, we were told we could take the horse to adjacent pastures that were much bigger. We put that horse back into shape on a program we had created without even knowing! She was about 20 and stunning!

We always had the occasional fall, but we always made excuses so our parents wouldn’t know that we fell from the horse, otherwise, they would’ve took our privileges! I think that’s where the “be tuff and don’t show pain” came from.

One morning, I will never forget that day… I was 14 years old, in school, I met my friend, as usual. She was beyond sad; I noticed and asked about it. She had brought a picture of Penny (the mare) and told me that Penny was sold. I could barely hold back my tears, I was in High School now and still enjoyed riding as much as I always did.

Her mom never told us why she sold our beloved Penny, but we would have only a few days to say goodbye before she left the barn. She was going to a nice barn, but very far away… I would never see her again. We all had our time alone with Penny to say goodbye and give her one last treat, I cried so hard.

We had been through a lot together from injury to us and to her (her leg had fallen through a bridge while we were leading her over it, her leg was injured and we were far from the barn, we walked the whole way back, that’s another story, she had tripped once and fallen hard, but had only bit her tongue!).

When Penny left, she left a gaping hole in my heart… I never forgot her, it’s been 10 years. I hope that Penny is enjoying old age and retirement, she would be around 30 years old, I guess.
I lacked horses in my life for about 7 years… I was always looking at sales adds and counting my pennies. My dad had bought a land and we could easily keep horses there if we built fence and shelter.

But it wasn’t for another 3 years that I would buy my own. In the meantime, I took care of a lady’s horses, exercised them… she had 8 horses that needed work. So I learned about training, breaking foals, riding wild horses (she had one mare that was 6 and completely unhandled)… I trained her for saddle myself, as well as her 3 year old filly and regularly exercised a 10 year old mare that was already broke. That was the only contact with horses that I had then, twice a week.

I bought my filly (Dandy) from one of my mom’s coworkers that could no longer take care of her. Dandy was 2 the year I bought her. She knew a halter but that was the extent of her training.

I had taken a course on barefoot performance trimming and had studied the hoof mechanism and the best way to trim them and why for 2 years (every day!), I still refer to my material sometimes, to refresh my memory.

Dandy had severely neglected hooves, she didn’t get the minerals she needed, her coat was dull, she was disrespectful and tried to kick me on my first visit, before buying her.
In short terms… I didn’t like her, at all, but figured I would give her a chance, because she was going to auction in 2 days if I didn’t buy her.

I got a fence up in a day and trailered the horse to her new home! She would be alone, but she had lived all of her life alone since she was weaned. I started to work on her training right away, she would not give her feet and I only trimmed one at a time whilst training her, she was impatient, would not stand tied, could not walk on the lead without running me over.

So in a year, I got her from unruly to giving her feet and being patient while I trim them, riding alone on the trails, not spooking for deer or birds taking off. She now respects my space and would never try to hurt me.

She is a solid minded horse! I am now starting to work on her canters at different speeds, she can lope and jog but I have no intentions of showing yet. I want to get her to leg yield and she does a pretty good rollback.

We’ve got 2 other horses, both rescues from the meat truck, a year after Dandy. They are 2 standardbred ex-pacers. One is 16, the other is 18. They were neglected and emaciated.
They are the best ever.

The 18 y/o mare was in foal and foaled a month after we got her. The foal, a little pure black colt, was very tall and leggy and probably lacked good nutrients during his development, eh was feeble and would not get up, he had a deformity to his back or hips. We bottle fed him and cared for him day and night for 9 days, when he finally passed. He was the sweetest foal, but he was very sick.

His death still came as a surprise, since we saw him gain strength and run around. I was devastated and at the same time relieved. We had given so much to that foal and his dam, I was in shreds. I only felt relief to the fact that I could now sleep full nights and would worry all day.
The Standards have finally put weight back on and are now sporting good sized hay bellies. They are on a regular wormer schedule, but I’ve not yet started to condition them. I do not need very muscular horses and prefer to let them fully recuperate from all the trauma. Between all of the hard times, I would never sell one of them. They are my life and will end their days on our farm.

I don’t plan to ever be without a horse again in my life.

I’ve included some pictures of them:

First one is of my mare Dandy, she is my life. She is a black (true black) Percheron / Quarter horse. She is our best riding horse, but I don’t let anyone ride her too much! She is my first horse and she will never leave our farm.

Second pic is of Pearl (registered name: Minto’s Foly). Pearl is 18 y/o and she is the one who had the foal, she was in no condition to raise a newborn and has made a stunning recovery! She is starting work under saddle, she’s a bit nervous and tends to have a mind of her own. She is an ex-pacer and completely sound. She is smaller at about 15 hh.

Third pic is of Peg (registered name: Mattsabreeze) daughter of Hall of fame inductee Matts Scooter. She is an ex-pacer, at 16, she suffers from a bit of stiffness and arthritis. She has worked under saddle and she is a doll. We only use her lightly for short trail rides… and yes… she paces… she even paces in the field! Peg had a badly matted tail and believe it or not… this is what was left of it when we were done untangling it, she had scratched so much that most of the hair in the mat was broken off. Peg is huge! She is about 16.3 hh.



Fourth picture was to compare Peg and Pearl for height… Pearl (the gray mare) is 15hh! The little horse behind his one that is boarding at our farm, he is a 13.3 hh hackney mix, 9 years old.
Émilie Vallière

Here Comes The Other Side....

Do they even have the sense to look sorry they've been busted? Not much. Note the barefeet.

I can tell this one is going to turn into a good discussion, I already have my head racing with thoughts and comments.....and I'm only on my second cup of coffee. My biggest thought comes with coming back on my own points (I am a mugwump after all!)


Adventures - "...had an ol'guy tell me once to never send my horse to a male trainer under the age of 45 because before then they are just too full of ego and fueled by testosterone..."


The thing is, young kids have no fear. Which can be a good thing. Their ego, their lack of sense, their testosterone and estrogen all combine to install confidence in their horses. Youngsters (at least the good ones) have faith in not only in the absolute rightness of their ability and knowledge but they have the same faith in their horses. Kids are so sure they can get the job done, the horse ends up knowing he can the job done too.


Horses gain confidence from confident riding.


I used my young assistants to do the things that made me nervous. Mostly because they did a better job than I did in some areas.


Putting go on them is one.


I'd have my little ones doing a walk, trot, canter. They'd be all sweet and steady, just what us chicken-livered old ladies like to ride.


BUT the Big K was always trying to impress upon me the importance of my colts feeling comfortable and being able to think at high speeds. Our event is fast. If I didn't make them comfortable moving along at a good clip I wouldn't be able to get the job done when speed was called for.

What he left unspoken was how important it was for me to be comfortable on my horses at high speeds.

I used young assistants, including my daughter, for this very reason. I always joked it was because they bounce. Which has its merits.

The real reason was because my young assistants loved to go fast. Their love of high speed made the colts love it too. My young assistants had such faith in their ability to ride whatever came along the colts became confident in their ability too.

Then I would take them back and be able to continue the feel of confidence, because the scary part, the initial run, was taken care of.

I let the kids take colts trail riding too. They just hummed along on them, where I would get all trainerly and fussy and hide my nerves by over-riding.

By the time I went out on them they were happy and confident and needed my intervention, because the kids would have them having a little too much fun.

I had good assistants mind you. I had trained them, they listened to me (kinda sorta) and I trusted them to a point. So it was a win/win for everybody.

I know you guys don't have necessarily have this kind of help, that's why I got paid the big bucks after all, but it's something to think about.

Then adventures said - "What you said about a horse getting broke as a byproduct of using him to get from point A to point B is interesting."


When I had a big gang of youth riders I spent a lot of time watching them just squirrel around on their horses. A group of girls ranging in age from 8 to 16 on horses ranging from 2 to 32 will give you a bunch to think about.


The little kids wanted to keep up with the big kids and the riders on young horses wanted them to behave like the oldies.


Case in point: The gang would blow out and ride a trail course they had painstakingly built out in the fields alongside a creek by the barn.


The basic self-imposed rule for this group was, first one to a gate opens it, last one closes it. Half the time they were bare-back. So the littl'uns really didn't want to get down to open or close a gate, because all the older'uns would be ragging on them to get a move on (not unlike me shagging cattle for the Big K).

If a horse wouldn't open or close a gate the rider had to get down and take care of it.

I watched each and every child get a handle on gates without my help.

It went like this. The horse would refuse, kid would dismount, open the gate, then get back on.

Next time, same deal.

But every time the kid needed to get the gate she would try a little harder. The other kids would boss, tease, and offer decent advice, depending on the day.

Every time the kid and her horse would get from A to B. So the horse's refusal did no good, it just caused a fuss.

Eventually said kid would get the gate opened or closed and it would be done. The horse could do the gate and so could the kid.

This approach worked for all kinds of things. The trail course had some creek crossings, sometimes with a jump down into it, or up the other side.

The horse would refuse, the kid would kick and steer and fuss, maybe get down, maybe find an easier spot to cross, and the group would assist or get in the way or whatever, but eventually, because the kids wanted to get from A to B then they'd get it done.

Each ride eventually became easier.

I busted them using this same technique to climb trees. They would stand on their horses butts in order to climb into their favorite tree. I don't know how they did it because by the time I caught them it was fait accompli, but each horse, from 2 to 32 would stand while they were used as a step ladder. Ahem.

A. to B. = broke horses. So sometimes you simply have to get it done, technique can come in later.

Horses and Turbos said - " When I showed my farrier the map of the trails, he laughed and said I was always about 1/2 mile from the parking area."

I think this is smart, safe and a good way to go. You're riding where you're confidant. When you're ready you'll go farther and your horse will trust that you're making the right decision.

FD said - "D'you think that being a professional and your time literally being money affected how you approached things? I know I've made mistakes in the past because I needed to stick to a schedule. And this despite consciously knowing and (preaching) that less haste makes more speed when it comes to training."

It made me make some mistakes at first. Time pressure is awful and probably the biggest issue in a trainers world.

I ended up becoming very stream-lined, learning how to make each step effective and knowing how many steps could be covered in one session.

This is how I became caught up in my "teaching everything only once" experiment on my colt. It's from studying how to build a horse maneuver by maneuver with a minimum of repetition.

LuvMyTBs said: "I consider myself a somewhat "handicapped" rider at this point in my life (age 53) due to a very serious injury(non horse related) requiring multiple surgeries and a very lengthy rehab. I was told to be happy to be able to walk normally again,let alone be able to ride."

You are so Horsaii.

stillearning said : Sometimes I wish I had a shorter horse.

Why do you think I like cutters and cowhorses? Pete is a comfy 14.3hh.

AareneX said: "Y'all are totally reading my mind.I just finished reading _Backcountry Basics_ by Mike Kinsey, (mugs, did you recommend this book???). He advocates *never* allowing the horse to get the idea that he can make a choice."

I did recommend this book, still do. I agree with Kinsey, my young horses never get the idea they have a choice. I think you guys remember my story of Pete holding a straight line even though it meant I rode him off the trail and into a gully? I was the bone head who didn't realise he would hold his line no matter what. Obviously my horses don't think they have a choice.
Snicket didn't think he had a choice. He thought he was going to die, so he kindly relayed the information.
Both horses crossed the creek, both obeyed.
Snicket sunk in the mud.
He was pissed, but he would obey again if Kidlet wanted him to, he knows his job..
Pete still doesn't want to do water. So I would not listen to Pete. It's my job to keep him safe, not vice versa.
Once he consistently and willingly crosses water (like Snicket) I will listen if he refuses. But he has to have an underlying knowledge that I am the end-all when it comes to a decision.

Muriel said: I know you are not keen on PNH, but they say it again and again, be safe! dismount, but then have a plan, and work &*se off the horse from the ground, or use other strategies, it is not because you dismount that you have lots the battle of will.

PNH did not think of this concept. Maybe this is part of my issue with them. They take practical horsemanship and turn it into a complicated maneuver they call their own.

Sometimes you can't dismount, sometimes your horse can't delay the expected difficult situation and sometimes you have to have a horse who understands he must do what you asked because you said so.

Again, I have to reference Pete. When I wrote about our Mountain Lion incident I chose to take his advise and turn around. I had complete confidence I could make him go down the hill. If I had insisted, Pete would have gone. He would have trusted me to make the right decision.

When we were on the hillside in the near dark, I stayed on and got out of his way. I trusted him not to bolt, buck me off, or panic so we fell down the mountainside. I had to trust him, but I was trusting several factors. Pete was trained to read my cues. I wanted him to walk, so he did. He trusted me enough to keep him safe, because of his training, so he resisted the urge to bolt, buck me off and go home, which is what he really wanted to do.

Partnerships develop between me and my horses as we learn to handle situations based on their obedience and my respect of their abilities. This takes years and years BTW.

Candy'sgirl said: "My husband's horse sounds like Snicket. He'll go through, over or around anything on a trail. The one weekend he REFUSED to cross a log despite me booting the living daylights out of him. He was right. He finally sighed, crossed it and promptly got tangled up in fencing that we assume had been washed onto the trail from the flooding a few months earlier. Then he stood very patiently while we cut him free. "

This horse understands obedience. He is a horse I would trust in a tough spot.

HorsesandTurbos said: "Sitting down for a minute and reflecting...When I rode Starlette last Sunday, ride #2 alone, she was scared of all the trailers we would have to go past to get to the trail we took the day before. I just asked her to take a step forward towards them...which she did, and then we went another direction on a different trail. She did not know I wanted more...in her mind she did what I asked."

This is perfect. Still expecting and getting obedience, but in a safe and smart manner. This is what builds a long term partnership with a horse.

Safety as We Age

My friend Kathy called me last night. She took her good mare Rosie out on a short ride around her neighborhood, or I should say tried to take Rosie out.

Rosie didn't want to go. She wanted to scream and yell at her corral buddy and refuse to leave sight of the barn.

Kathy said she wasn't that bad, but she was thinking about it.

The unfortunate part of this situation is Kathy let her go back to the barn.

"I didn't let her go straight back," Kathy told me, "I rode her past the barn the other way and turned her back before she got too bad."

"She'll give you the "got too bad" next ride," I told her, "she completely won this round."

Which as we all know, guarantees she will be twice as rotten next time.

"I should have made her go, but I got scared," Kathy said.

There are extenuating circumstances here. Kathy is the friend who was put in the hospital by Captain about a year and a half ago.

Captain slung her into an iron rail fence.

Kathy suffered a punctured lung, several broken ribs, a fractured clavicle and cracked vertebrae.

She had a long, painful recovery and came out of her accident with a healthy dose of fear.

Kathy is a hand. Pre-accident she would have straightened Miss Rosie out and continued on her way. Things have changed for my friend.

"I don't think you should have made yourself do anything," I said, "there's no reason to scare yourself and not enjoy your ride."

The fact of the matter is, Rosie's insecurity and resulting butt-head behavior are probably coming off of Kathy's fear.

Kathy has owned Rosie since she was 3 days old. Rosie's about to turn 11. Kathy broke her, trained her and has put hours of solid all around riding on her.

These two know each other inside and out, and the barn sour nonsense isn't really a big problem. They both know it too, but Kathy has very legitimate fear to deal with and Rosie can feel it.

So what to do?

I have had a slow and gradual change in my approach to my horses over the past couple of years. My sense of urgency is slowly seeping away.

I have more fear than I used to also. So I accept this as something I need to be aware of, but not cave to.

Pete is my favorite example lately, since I'm on him most of the time. I went on a beautiful trail ride with my daughter last weekend. We hit some nasty boggy stuff during a creek crossing.

Neither horse wanted to cross the water. Pete never wants to cross water, so I wasn't surprised, but my daughter's horse, Snicket is quite the water hound. He'll crash across just about anything, and is all the happier if he ends up swimming.

When Snicket flat out refused, I decided to step down and look things over.

The kidlet said, "What are you doing? They can ride across."

"I'm over 50 and I can step off if I want to," I told her and I was only joking a little.

Pete and I found a not-so-scary part of the creek and I jumped across. After a second, so did Pete. I hauled my carcass back up on his back and we were ready to go.

The kidlet fought for another 10 minutes or so and finally stepped off. She jumped the creek and Snicket went to follow. His hind legs landed in the creek and he was immediately sucked down into horse gobbling mud up to his butt.

Snicket hauled himself out and was fine, but there was a couple of good points made here.
1. We should have listened to Snicket. He never refuses. He was trying to tell us something.
2. Getting off made everything easier. The horses still crossed, no harm no foul.

I find myself approaching things this way a lot more than I used to. Afraid of the flapping flag in the mailbox? Fine, I'll get down and lead you by.

Don't like the low overhang in the trees? Fine, we'll walk around it.

On the flip side, I do make Pete go by the flag. We don't go sniff it, we just pass it.Then relax a second and go on with our day.

We stop and at least think about the overhang every ride. Eventually Pete decides to go under, it's easier than going around after all.

We're in the process of learning to drag a roping dummy.

The younger, feistier me would have knocked Pete up to it, grabbed the rope and messed and fought until he drug it around.

The older, mellower me doesn't care that much. I end my ride a little closer to it every day. Pete has quit fretting over it. He knows we're about done for the day when I ask him to approach it. So next ride I'm going to pick up the drag rope and rub him with it. I'll do this until I can pull it and move it and he doesn't care. Eventually he'll lope around dragging the thing. It will look great on his sale video.

So will his water crossings, because we're sneaking up on them.

The irony here is this is exactly how I approached things before I carried the trainer label. If I needed to get through a gate, stream, scary place, whatever, I just got it done and continued on my way. If I had to get down I did. My goal was to get from A to B, not train my horse. In the process of getting from A to B my horse ended up trained anyway.

So with this in mind I had a few suggestions for Kathy.
Don't scare yourself. At this point in life we just want to have a good time.
Work the tar out of Rosie in the arena, then get down and lead her out of sight of the barn.
Let her graze awhile.
Lead her back.
Keep this up until one day you (Kathy) don't feel like leading her.
Then ride her to her grazing spot.
Next day ride her to a new grazing spot.
And so on.
Don't get scared, just enjoy the day with your good horse.
My guess is Kathy and Rosie will be riding around the neighborhood in no time.

Num, Yum, Snort, Hey! What's that???!!!

Rebbecca said - I have a 9 year old paint gelding, Junior. He was broke enough when I got him and we've been spending a year working on show finishing for western pleasure and hunter under saddle. Considering I'm an amateur (I do have a trainer, but I want your take on this) I think he's coming along well. BUT he is the mouthiest most ADHD horse I've ever known. He looks all around and gets distracted in the arena whenever a horse comes in or goes out. He will put anything and everything in his mouth and when he's bored/irritated/playful he kind of snaps at me.

Rebbecca has two problems with her horse. His mouthiness and his distractibility.

This gelding is a pleasure, hunter under saddle and maybe, a halter horse.

Each of these events requires standing still, or slow steady movement. None of these events are designed to take much thought on the part of the horse. Nor is there a lot of mental stimulation involved.

Most mouthy, easily distracted horses are also alert, intelligent and athletic horses. This is the kind of horse I like to put on a cow. Once I focus all that bubbling energy I usually lose the problem behavior.

I truly don't know what you pleasure guys do to occupy the minds of your more sharp minded horses, so input would be good here.

I also need to point out I have honest-to-God, diagnosed, severe, ADD. If I was a pleasure horse I would slit my own throat. So if Rebbecca’s trainer is happy with her horse’s progress I doubt he has ADHD.

What I do know is that a mouthy horse should not be given stuff to play with when he's being handled. Be it the end of a lead rope or the back of my shirt.

I have a 2 to 3 foot area of personal space that I want every horse I handle to respect at all times. No horse is allowed to cross into my space ever.

I come out of it to approach my horse whenever I want mind you, be it to love on them or discipline them. They don't get to come to me though.

This simple rule saves both me and my horses a lot of grief.

Have you ever watched two horses (usually geldings or studs) initiate play?

Horse #1 sneaks a quick nip at Horse #2.

Then Horse #2 nips back.

#1 whips back with a slightly harder nip.

#2 squeals and lunges.

The next thing you know they're rearing and play striking and acting like a couple of mustangs.

Next scenario: An owner is standing and holding her haltered horse by his lead rope right under his chin. The horse turns to look at another horse being led by him and the owner yanks on the lead rope.

Then the horse turns the other way to watch a tractor. The owner is pulled again and yanks on the lead rope again.

The horse sighs and stands still for a moment.

The owner strokes the horses nose.

He nips at her hand.

She gives him a small slap.

He nips again, a little harder.

Owner slaps a little harder.

Pretty soon they look like a couple of cheerleaders bitch-slapping each other.

Owner is pissed. Horse is thinking this is great fun.

Does any of this sound or look familiar?

So I keep things clean and direct. I don't handle mouthy horses faces below the eyes unless I'm bridling. Period.

There are lots of other places to pet my horse.

I DON'T HAND FEED THEM! (here we go again)

Between my personal space and my no petting below the eyes rule my mouthy horse never has a reason to touch me with his mouth.

Therefore, if he does touch me with his mouth I can discipline him. Not with a little slap or a bump of my hand on his jaw. I'm going to wack his shoulder or hip with my lead rope and bend him or back him around some.

If a horse in the field doesn't want the neighborhood punk horse bothering him he will lunge, kick and chase, making it extremely clear what's expected.

Every time he touches me with his mouth, I'm going to make a big, dramatic, unpleasant movement kind of thing. Then I'll ignore him.

On the other hand, I'm also going to ignore anything he does which doesn't affect me.

He can wiggle his ears, wag his tongue, shake his head, I don't care as long as his feet stay still and he doesn't touch me.

I give my horses at least four foot of lead rope when I lead them or hold them.

They get to do pretty much whatever they want on that rope as long as they don't touch me or bring their nose past my shoulder. They can't tug on the rope either. They have to keep their feet still when mine are. No grazing.

So they spook and spoof and rear and buck all they want as long as they don't break the rules.

I have noticed the only horses who choose to act this way are either stalled or in a small pen and haven't been out in a while.

I would want these rules clear before I started teaching them halter. Which I don't know how to do.

When the Don't Touch me, Keep your Feet Still Rules are clear I start to expect my horses to focus on me when I ask then to.

So if I quit ignoring my horse and look at him he needs to prepare himself to work. Which may be standing for the shoer or vet. Or loading in a trailer. Or being shown at halter.

If I ignore him he can look around, play with his own mouth, whatever, as long as he follows the rules.

I’m the same way about my horses being distracted. If I’m not working and they aren’t affecting me they can look at whatever they want.

If we’re working they need to work.

I expect as much focus from my horse as I am putting on them, on the ground or in the saddle.

So again, if my horse should be working and he’s googling around, I’ll get after him for not getting the work done, not so much for looking. Does that make sense?

As far as specifics, you’ll have to listen to your trainer, because I don’t know nuttin' about halter or pleasure horse training.