Well, the next time I rode her out, by herself, she was broke again, and I don't mean that in the good horse way. Actually what she was was balky. Not too, and it didn't take too long to work through it, but it didn't take less than last time either. I probably did more pressure release and less approach retreat because 1) I wasn't scared and 2) I wasn't patient. In the end it was a good ride, a fun ride, and what I mean by that is that we went everywhere, did everything. I did go into the arena to canter but we did do that and did it quite nicely and quite a bit with more than several and less than numerous transitions on each side.
Now, lots of things go into this for Jin. Hormones #1. If it were all the same to me, she'd either get pregnant or get regumate. But it isn't all the same to me. We've brought her in this week to be turned out with the horse who, it turns out, is the love of her life, another mare who I guess at least isn't mean to her. Jin is in love with her. So our choices there aren't helping. I just don't think they are hurting it either tho -- that it is an issue that is going to be there to deal with anyway.
On the good side, I've been ponying. Which has been interesting and productive. On the bad side, it is these two mares I've ponied so far. But others are coming in the mix. But it'll be next week before I can get to that.
One of the thoughts I've had is that working with her and her being a better horse has NOT made her easier to ride. Which is interesting.
Also, the more confident she gets, the more "left brained" she gets -- "make me" & "what's in it for me".
And when she's unconfident, she accepts me as leader but as she gets more confident, well, maybe there's something missing from my leadership there? I think of Blaze. I think of Zip who I am actively working with now. So far so good with him but I can already tell that at some point he is going to say to me, "Are you my leader or am I yours?"
Now, the absolutely "I control your feet" thing has been VERY important. As Buck puts it, they need to understand (and deeply understand) three things: 1) I can move your feet; 2) you cannot move my feet; 3) you can move your feet without being troubled. I have (perhaps ironically) used this a good bit or standing still. Obviously I need to use it more moving.
If I had a teacher right now I'd ask: How do I do that leadership thing? In the round pen? On the lead rope? Riding?
Monday, April 13, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015
fixed and broke
I've been trying to write this for a week and have had trouble. So I thought I'd look at what's troubling me. First, I tend to have trouble writing about horses anyway. Maybe they mean too much to me for words. Maybe it is that what I absolutely do NOT mean is training advice. Maybe it is that I tend to write "this happened then that happened" and get lost in that instead of what I mean to actually be conveyed in the description.
After I fixed it, I knew how I broke it. Although "fixed" and "broke" are the wrong words and if I could think of others I would surely use them.
For years I've ridden her outside, in the fields, in the open, with others and alone. But sometime in early winter she had a estrus from h*ll, fell in love with another mare, and threw a fit on me one day. A fit enough that she scared me. I'm not that easy to scare, but when I'm in the fields alone and think about the possibility that I could come off and it could be awhile before someone could find me, and that I could really get hurt, and that I have no insurance, and that it could be the last time I ride, I can get scared at my age. At 20 it wouldn't have phased me. At 54 (jebus no sh*t almost) it does and I'm not ashamed that it does, I just don't know what to do with it. Anyway, that day, that ride, the "broke" ride, I was mostly just irritated by the whole thing, a bad day, a bad ride, but I didn't really think that much about it. We went into the arena and finished our ride. I continued to ride her but we didn't do a whole heck of a lot of riding this winter and I didn't have the opportunity to go outside again for awhile.
And then, the next time I took her into the fields she was all pissy. Balky. "No, I'm not going." We went, but we didn't go far and we didn't go pretty.
She is a horse who can be really incredibly soft, if a little slow. And her feet are sticky. And she has trouble cantering. Not physically. But even in the field, you don't see her canter much. But I do love it when I go to get her in and when she hears me whistle and spots me, she comes to me. Mostly at a walk. Sometimes at a trot. Once, after getting chased by Annie, at a canter but I thought I'd take that anyway. Mostly at a walk. In the recent Michael Sparling clinic we participated in, one of the things that hit me as truth was, "Look at how she relaxes and her expression softens when she trusts that you mean to really move forward." Oh. Don't reassure; MOVE.
And so the day came again with a perfect opportunity to ride in the fields. Why those days always happen on open arena days beats me. Well, part of it is my and my family's current schedule. Sunday tends to work if the weather does, and Sunday is open arena. So there are people and frankly I don't want to get in a fight with her with people watching. People watching and maybe I'd give up too soon or fight for too long but I don't so much trust myself with people watching. Strangers anyway. So of course no one is there until I get her tacked up, then two trailers. So I have to trust myself anyway.
So, to avoid that blow by blow stuff, a major balk happened very soon, I used some approach retreat, I used some pressure release, I used some MOVE (yes that is better). And after we'd worked past that first balk, there was one more to which I said, "H*ll no" and to which she said, "I want to buck. . .oh no I don't either, I think I'll move and be rather happy about it", and then after that there were a couple of sticky feet moments which rather simple pressure release took care of, and that was pretty much it. And we just took a nice walkabout in the sun, in all the fields, and took in where the grown-up fence rows have been taken out, and did a little bit of precision "put this foot there" sorts of work but always in the process of having a nice walkabout.
Today we did it again with zero balks, and nearly no sticky feet, and real work where ever we happened to be, circles and closed serpentines and hq yields and all gaits and transitions and soft feel and work on breaking at the poll and not at the third vertebrae and halt and stand and relax and walkabout all.
It is a funny thing, a thing I don't understand and don't always know what to do with it, but as her confidence increases (she was THE *MOST* unconfident horse in the world), it comes out first as pissiness. I think I have to not be afraid to say a hard "Oh h*ll no" because, counter-intuitive to me, that is not going to decrease her confidence in herself but actually increase it in me.
We'll see.
After I fixed it, I knew how I broke it. Although "fixed" and "broke" are the wrong words and if I could think of others I would surely use them.
For years I've ridden her outside, in the fields, in the open, with others and alone. But sometime in early winter she had a estrus from h*ll, fell in love with another mare, and threw a fit on me one day. A fit enough that she scared me. I'm not that easy to scare, but when I'm in the fields alone and think about the possibility that I could come off and it could be awhile before someone could find me, and that I could really get hurt, and that I have no insurance, and that it could be the last time I ride, I can get scared at my age. At 20 it wouldn't have phased me. At 54 (jebus no sh*t almost) it does and I'm not ashamed that it does, I just don't know what to do with it. Anyway, that day, that ride, the "broke" ride, I was mostly just irritated by the whole thing, a bad day, a bad ride, but I didn't really think that much about it. We went into the arena and finished our ride. I continued to ride her but we didn't do a whole heck of a lot of riding this winter and I didn't have the opportunity to go outside again for awhile.
And then, the next time I took her into the fields she was all pissy. Balky. "No, I'm not going." We went, but we didn't go far and we didn't go pretty.
She is a horse who can be really incredibly soft, if a little slow. And her feet are sticky. And she has trouble cantering. Not physically. But even in the field, you don't see her canter much. But I do love it when I go to get her in and when she hears me whistle and spots me, she comes to me. Mostly at a walk. Sometimes at a trot. Once, after getting chased by Annie, at a canter but I thought I'd take that anyway. Mostly at a walk. In the recent Michael Sparling clinic we participated in, one of the things that hit me as truth was, "Look at how she relaxes and her expression softens when she trusts that you mean to really move forward." Oh. Don't reassure; MOVE.
And so the day came again with a perfect opportunity to ride in the fields. Why those days always happen on open arena days beats me. Well, part of it is my and my family's current schedule. Sunday tends to work if the weather does, and Sunday is open arena. So there are people and frankly I don't want to get in a fight with her with people watching. People watching and maybe I'd give up too soon or fight for too long but I don't so much trust myself with people watching. Strangers anyway. So of course no one is there until I get her tacked up, then two trailers. So I have to trust myself anyway.
So, to avoid that blow by blow stuff, a major balk happened very soon, I used some approach retreat, I used some pressure release, I used some MOVE (yes that is better). And after we'd worked past that first balk, there was one more to which I said, "H*ll no" and to which she said, "I want to buck. . .oh no I don't either, I think I'll move and be rather happy about it", and then after that there were a couple of sticky feet moments which rather simple pressure release took care of, and that was pretty much it. And we just took a nice walkabout in the sun, in all the fields, and took in where the grown-up fence rows have been taken out, and did a little bit of precision "put this foot there" sorts of work but always in the process of having a nice walkabout.
Today we did it again with zero balks, and nearly no sticky feet, and real work where ever we happened to be, circles and closed serpentines and hq yields and all gaits and transitions and soft feel and work on breaking at the poll and not at the third vertebrae and halt and stand and relax and walkabout all.
It is a funny thing, a thing I don't understand and don't always know what to do with it, but as her confidence increases (she was THE *MOST* unconfident horse in the world), it comes out first as pissiness. I think I have to not be afraid to say a hard "Oh h*ll no" because, counter-intuitive to me, that is not going to decrease her confidence in herself but actually increase it in me.
We'll see.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
what you have, where you have it
Post by John Saint Ryan.
I watched that video and grinned, laughing inside, because at that very moment we had a horse at the barn I work at who was being led in and out of turn-out with a chain over or under his nose. "First, take the stud chain off." But I still wasn't brave enough to do it. I was amazed that this horse could be working for about anyone at 1st level, schooling higher, beginning flying changes, and yet had not been taught to pick up his feet, stand for the farrier, or lead. You could canter this horse around and yet you could not stop at the end of the barn and catch up on business with someone while you were leading him out. His legs were important and expensive enough to be booted up but he was not capable of standing there while you took them off.
Honestly, it didn't take me long to teach him to stand there while I took those boots off. About a week. But leading him, with another horse, without a stud chain? In truth it was the cowboy who was hired to put some miles on the horse who got tired of dealing with the chain and put a cotton lead on, and once it was there I left it. And it was fine.
And what I was thinking in regards to this is that you start where you are. And you start where the horse is. You work where you are, with what you have. I remember Buck talking about colts in the East, and how they don't get to be colts and horses in the way they do in the West. And he has a point. I don't live where a horse has a regular job. I don't make a lot of money but I've got to make some and I've found I can't sell snake oil no matter how hard I try so I do what I do and feel lucky to be able to do that and little along, and part of what I'm doing now and will likely always be doing as long as I get to work with horses is dealing with boarders' horses with said boarders having very different ideas of horsemanship and horse behavior and needs than I do. And working with other minimum wage workers, mostly boys, who are doing a job temporarily until they find something better, who's idea is to get to the end of the tasks and not to take care of the horses.
And none of that matters. I do what I do. I learn. I do better. I am where I am. I hallucinate that someday my horse(s) will be so extraordinary that people will say, how did you do that? But usually they just say, will you teach my horse to pick up his feet? And I'll tell ya, I'm grateful for the opportunity. Because I learn. And the horse learns. And I get to do stuff. And I get to care, and take care, and sometimes even to be taken care of.
Friday, March 6, 2015
feel the feeling of pleased
The power of pressure and release, and particularly of well timed release, never fails to amaze me. I know a lot of times my timing is not perfect and thus my results are less than they could be and my horse is less sure and happy than he could be too but other times it works out pretty good. Sometimes I get a whiff of that feeling I used to have of knowing exactly what to do.
I feel pretty good that the horses I work with tend to come for me when I go for them. Yeah yeah yeah it helps that it is winter and the grass is not green and succulent and their bellies would especially welcome a bit of grain and I could make caveats for myself forever but the fact is that if I go to Jin's field and whistle and she sees me, she'll walk to me from just about anywhere. And I play with CC and Blaze and Lily in their field about every morning when I check water and so they'll pretty well always come too. Not always down from the top, but often. And even Zip and Whiskers, both newer rides for me, are curious, receptive; Whiskers more skeptical but then, he's been ridden more before me too. Sometimes it takes them awhile to get over that feeling that there is nothing in it for them.
And then there is Brat. She isn't my horse but my daughter rides her some, learns with her some. Brat knows everything but Brat is a very shut down horse too. And Brat will almost never come, even for her "mother".
But the other day I went for her. And I knew she wouldn't come and I was mostly just relieved when I walked out there that she wasn't at the top of the field. I walked toward her with purpose and Blaze was like, "Me? Me?" and I rhythm-ed "no" to him and said aloud, "I am not here for you Blaze. My intention is for Brat," and I held the intention strongly and walked. And she raised her head. And I stopped and cocked a leg and though, "hmmmm." And she put her head back down and I continued to walk toward her with purpose and the next thing she did surprised me so much: She raised her head and took a step toward me in one motion.
I stopped, cocked a leg, laughed, and got a treat out of my pocket.
I feel pretty good that the horses I work with tend to come for me when I go for them. Yeah yeah yeah it helps that it is winter and the grass is not green and succulent and their bellies would especially welcome a bit of grain and I could make caveats for myself forever but the fact is that if I go to Jin's field and whistle and she sees me, she'll walk to me from just about anywhere. And I play with CC and Blaze and Lily in their field about every morning when I check water and so they'll pretty well always come too. Not always down from the top, but often. And even Zip and Whiskers, both newer rides for me, are curious, receptive; Whiskers more skeptical but then, he's been ridden more before me too. Sometimes it takes them awhile to get over that feeling that there is nothing in it for them.
And then there is Brat. She isn't my horse but my daughter rides her some, learns with her some. Brat knows everything but Brat is a very shut down horse too. And Brat will almost never come, even for her "mother".
But the other day I went for her. And I knew she wouldn't come and I was mostly just relieved when I walked out there that she wasn't at the top of the field. I walked toward her with purpose and Blaze was like, "Me? Me?" and I rhythm-ed "no" to him and said aloud, "I am not here for you Blaze. My intention is for Brat," and I held the intention strongly and walked. And she raised her head. And I stopped and cocked a leg and though, "hmmmm." And she put her head back down and I continued to walk toward her with purpose and the next thing she did surprised me so much: She raised her head and took a step toward me in one motion.
I stopped, cocked a leg, laughed, and got a treat out of my pocket.
Friday, February 13, 2015
perfect practice
There are things I learn a hundred thousand times, and things that never quite make sense. Release is the first -- I've learned its importance over and over again, like I've always known it and yet continually learn it. But perfect practice? One I never feel perfect. And two, perfect is the enemy of good. I'm pretty sure there are more quotes about that too.
But I did experience something about perfect practice the other day. I got Jin from the field, and now she is again out in the big front field with about ten other horses so it is a bigger deal to go get her. Probably is for her too although she seems to be doing fairly well there. And the first thing was that all the horses were waaaay in the front but as soon as I caught sight of her over the rise, I whistled and her head came up, and after a short pause to look around she started toward the gate between the field she was in and the one I was in. She didn't trot but she sure came steadily. It was heartwarming. Since the rest of the horses had not come, we just led by liberty to the gate.
I put the halter on her and got her through the gate then turned her loose to get the gate and she very quickly said, "Grass. Over here. See ya." Ok. Message received.
I've worked with Jin a relatively long time. She knows how to saddle, and how to saddle correctly, how to stand still. She's always wanted to move a little forward, especially if I do it in the stall, but she knows, especially in the hallway. I haven't tied her or gotten someone to hold her in forever. But I also know that the last few times I've saddled, which have usually been with some kind of hurry, she didn't stand so well.
So there we are, in the hallway, and I decide that yes, I'm going to insist you do this correctly. If that is all I have time to do today, we will do that. Just like with a colt I throw the pad a few times, correct a few times. No big deal. She stands with the lead just resting over my arm. I pick up the saddle. And make her step back. She's very soft about it, not resistant, not scared. I start with the saddle. And make her step back. In the end I probably threw the saddle (well, not throw) seven or eight times. It was just a step. But I did it until she didn't do it.
And what I thought about was all the times I hadn't insisted on that. Because it was "just a step". Because she was soft and not resistant and not scared.
We have a big fancy expensive dressage horse boarder and for all his training, he doesn't know how to lead. Because no one ever taught him, or expected it of him. And I thought then that I just wasn't expecting enough of Jin.
Sometimes I don't know what to expect, what to release for. Sometimes I waller through stuff trying to get to something to release for. But not that time. And yet I had neglected that looking for other things.
As Kathleen said recently, " If you build your loop with a twist built in it, you're going to end up with a loop with a twist in it." I don't know a thing about roping (at least not yet) but even I can understand that.
We had a lovely ride in the fields, after some groundwork and after I insisted that yes, she was too going on.
But I did experience something about perfect practice the other day. I got Jin from the field, and now she is again out in the big front field with about ten other horses so it is a bigger deal to go get her. Probably is for her too although she seems to be doing fairly well there. And the first thing was that all the horses were waaaay in the front but as soon as I caught sight of her over the rise, I whistled and her head came up, and after a short pause to look around she started toward the gate between the field she was in and the one I was in. She didn't trot but she sure came steadily. It was heartwarming. Since the rest of the horses had not come, we just led by liberty to the gate.
I put the halter on her and got her through the gate then turned her loose to get the gate and she very quickly said, "Grass. Over here. See ya." Ok. Message received.
I've worked with Jin a relatively long time. She knows how to saddle, and how to saddle correctly, how to stand still. She's always wanted to move a little forward, especially if I do it in the stall, but she knows, especially in the hallway. I haven't tied her or gotten someone to hold her in forever. But I also know that the last few times I've saddled, which have usually been with some kind of hurry, she didn't stand so well.
So there we are, in the hallway, and I decide that yes, I'm going to insist you do this correctly. If that is all I have time to do today, we will do that. Just like with a colt I throw the pad a few times, correct a few times. No big deal. She stands with the lead just resting over my arm. I pick up the saddle. And make her step back. She's very soft about it, not resistant, not scared. I start with the saddle. And make her step back. In the end I probably threw the saddle (well, not throw) seven or eight times. It was just a step. But I did it until she didn't do it.
And what I thought about was all the times I hadn't insisted on that. Because it was "just a step". Because she was soft and not resistant and not scared.
We have a big fancy expensive dressage horse boarder and for all his training, he doesn't know how to lead. Because no one ever taught him, or expected it of him. And I thought then that I just wasn't expecting enough of Jin.
Sometimes I don't know what to expect, what to release for. Sometimes I waller through stuff trying to get to something to release for. But not that time. And yet I had neglected that looking for other things.
As Kathleen said recently, " If you build your loop with a twist built in it, you're going to end up with a loop with a twist in it." I don't know a thing about roping (at least not yet) but even I can understand that.
We had a lovely ride in the fields, after some groundwork and after I insisted that yes, she was too going on.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
change and stability
So, I changed this blog again. This is its 3rd iteration.
I'm not sure what to say about that. About doing the same thing, differently. About the different paths one takes with the same goal. About how you have to have a direction to get anywhere, and how you have to change too. This is more like a dance and you do want to get better at the dance, not finish it, and always be aware of your partner in that dance too. I want to have clearer communication, I want to have better timing, I want to be more effective. And yes, I would like every horse I ride to be my feet in whatever manner they are capable of.
I've been reassessing. This year my focus is on doing the work. It isn't entirely up to me but I plan to focus on Jin, Whiskers and Zip at McQs, and on actually doing something with Increase here. And also working on Clyde's ground manners because he has none. He ties, he drives, he doesn't lead worth a crap. I want him light leading, not running over my ass or pushing Ro around. I have available some clinics with Michael Sparling using primarily Buck methods. Ro has my Carol clinic spot this year (and I am very tickled with that), although I may think about doing some level 3 auditions if the family membership thing comes available especially.
Do the work. Although this dang freezing weather ain't going to help either me or Ro this week. But I have hay and a truck that works and I have morning pages every day and I may be old but that's ok because I'm still moving and I'll go get Jin for some ground work at least -- I want to rope those feet, follow a feel is the goal for this week and I'd like to do it with the three of them.
Inky, hon, you are a magical pooka horse and I thank you. Let us move it forward again.
I'm not sure what to say about that. About doing the same thing, differently. About the different paths one takes with the same goal. About how you have to have a direction to get anywhere, and how you have to change too. This is more like a dance and you do want to get better at the dance, not finish it, and always be aware of your partner in that dance too. I want to have clearer communication, I want to have better timing, I want to be more effective. And yes, I would like every horse I ride to be my feet in whatever manner they are capable of.
I've been reassessing. This year my focus is on doing the work. It isn't entirely up to me but I plan to focus on Jin, Whiskers and Zip at McQs, and on actually doing something with Increase here. And also working on Clyde's ground manners because he has none. He ties, he drives, he doesn't lead worth a crap. I want him light leading, not running over my ass or pushing Ro around. I have available some clinics with Michael Sparling using primarily Buck methods. Ro has my Carol clinic spot this year (and I am very tickled with that), although I may think about doing some level 3 auditions if the family membership thing comes available especially.
Do the work. Although this dang freezing weather ain't going to help either me or Ro this week. But I have hay and a truck that works and I have morning pages every day and I may be old but that's ok because I'm still moving and I'll go get Jin for some ground work at least -- I want to rope those feet, follow a feel is the goal for this week and I'd like to do it with the three of them.
Inky, hon, you are a magical pooka horse and I thank you. Let us move it forward again.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
make love, not war
Don't worry any more about the specifics. I mean, do, of course,
worry about the specifics but not weight and seat and left little
finger. Stay in the middle of the horse even when you are not on him,
focus on willingness and good posture in the horse no matter what you
are doing, train yourself to do the same thing everything time you
expect the same thing.
And FEEL it. Dance it. Love it.
And FEEL it. Dance it. Love it.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
long & low & loose & forward, II
Two years ago we did this test. We are doing it again. And adding the one that adds canter although she still has issues with it. She's come a long way and I've learned a lot despite doing the same test still. Horse show week. Long and low and loose and forward. Sit back. Have fun.
And this time I get to take the girls!
And this time I get to take the girls!
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
only a four hour panic attack
It was only a four hour panic attack. It reminded me of a time long ago but that wasn't what it was, not exactly anyway. I was scared because I was sitting there watching the class I was supposed to be in do things that I knew would be challenging to impossible for my horse and me, and instead of being in that class, we would be in a MORE advanced class where I KNEW we weren't going to be able to do . . . anything? A lot anyway.
And so I had a panic attack. And then I relaxed into it. Show me in clear relief what I do not know and how to get there. Of course it wasn't comfortable. I felt like an idiot, an incompetent, a boob, a failure, defeated. I knew just being there, however, was good for Jin. And so we just went through it. And I didn't cry. And the other participants were nice and tolerant and (for the most part) helpful. And I certainly did get a handle on what I didn't know.
But more, I *think* I got a handle on what to do about it. Parelli has felt mostly like trying to learn and speak to horses in Spanish. I don't know Spanish. There are things that aren't that different; there are things that are. There have been things that I don't understand how to understand.
And I just don't do things mechanically very well -- I either understand or . . . I don't.
And so I had a panic attack. And then I relaxed into it. Show me in clear relief what I do not know and how to get there. Of course it wasn't comfortable. I felt like an idiot, an incompetent, a boob, a failure, defeated. I knew just being there, however, was good for Jin. And so we just went through it. And I didn't cry. And the other participants were nice and tolerant and (for the most part) helpful. And I certainly did get a handle on what I didn't know.
But more, I *think* I got a handle on what to do about it. Parelli has felt mostly like trying to learn and speak to horses in Spanish. I don't know Spanish. There are things that aren't that different; there are things that are. There have been things that I don't understand how to understand.
And I just don't do things mechanically very well -- I either understand or . . . I don't.
Monday, April 28, 2014
there's always another dance baby
I am older and I am in horses and so while I am occasionally inspired by people who are older than me who are still very active in horses, I am also very aware that I am older, that I am finite, and that this life is finite.
And so I do what I can.
Sometimes I long for things I can't have or can't do -- could I not go to about 12 clinics a year, could I not apprentice with someone who knows a heck of a lot more than me and is actually willing to share that knowledge (even if I have to do it in short spurts because I do have a life too).
I am constantly aware of what I do have -- the opportunity to ride more horses than I can ride, the ability to be with horses and good horse people every day, and the care, the care of horses.
And I am constantly aware of the precariousness of that situation. Anything could happen. Just like it has in the past. Who knew? Who knew?
And who knows? And so that is possible in the future too that due to the finiteness of one thing, there will be another . . . thing
And so I do what I can.
Sometimes I long for things I can't have or can't do -- could I not go to about 12 clinics a year, could I not apprentice with someone who knows a heck of a lot more than me and is actually willing to share that knowledge (even if I have to do it in short spurts because I do have a life too).
I am constantly aware of what I do have -- the opportunity to ride more horses than I can ride, the ability to be with horses and good horse people every day, and the care, the care of horses.
And I am constantly aware of the precariousness of that situation. Anything could happen. Just like it has in the past. Who knew? Who knew?
And who knows? And so that is possible in the future too that due to the finiteness of one thing, there will be another . . . thing
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
fear and hope (PTSD)
We
have a smallholding, and for a decade we had Duke, a Belgian, who
helped us work it. He was blind in one eye, and had some ring bone so
he was never 100% sound, but we didn't ask much of him -- just to plow
the garden in the spring (for which he got some bute) and pull the
occasional log. He had a good life and enjoyed himself with our goats
(he was a goat midwife, I swear) and our donkey. Then, after a decade, he got to where
he wouldn't eat enough and died.
So then another Belgian, Bill, was looking for a home so he plowed our garden one spring, then came to live with us in the fall. But in December he fell and broke his leg just above his hock and we had to kill him.
So we went one year and just worked our corn field by hand but at the fall auction I found Rose. She was just an old, gentle BelgianX mare. Because we didn't know her history, she went to the facility where I do some work so we could drive her in an arena for safety and confidence (for me) for the first time. She had checked out as a wonderful animal and we were ready to bring her home when she colicked, her stomach ruptured, and the vet put her down.
So everyone has been looking for a suitable animal for us and our farrier found one, Clyde. I just got a call today that Clyde's coggins came so he is ready to come to us. And it scares me to death. Oh, there is no way I won't do it but it hurts everything there is in me. It is like the older I get, the more the hurt just builds up or something. The kindness makes me cry and the fear makes me cry and maybe I'm just pre-menstral.
May we have years and years with Clyde the Belgian.
So then another Belgian, Bill, was looking for a home so he plowed our garden one spring, then came to live with us in the fall. But in December he fell and broke his leg just above his hock and we had to kill him.
So we went one year and just worked our corn field by hand but at the fall auction I found Rose. She was just an old, gentle BelgianX mare. Because we didn't know her history, she went to the facility where I do some work so we could drive her in an arena for safety and confidence (for me) for the first time. She had checked out as a wonderful animal and we were ready to bring her home when she colicked, her stomach ruptured, and the vet put her down.
So everyone has been looking for a suitable animal for us and our farrier found one, Clyde. I just got a call today that Clyde's coggins came so he is ready to come to us. And it scares me to death. Oh, there is no way I won't do it but it hurts everything there is in me. It is like the older I get, the more the hurt just builds up or something. The kindness makes me cry and the fear makes me cry and maybe I'm just pre-menstral.
May we have years and years with Clyde the Belgian.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Why I Am A Working Horseman
A while ago someone said to
me, "So you're a professional horseman." And that statement caused me
to hiccup, to stammer, to say, "Well, I clean stalls too."
I suppose that my contact with "professional" horsemen hasn't left that good a taste in my mouth. I hadn't really realized that until faced with that question. It is like the term "cowboy" -- it can be a term of great derision or a term of great respect but you rather need a qualifier to tell which one.
I've noted the term "working" used as the qualifier for "cowboy" to delineate it from wannabe or pseudo or weekend or play pretty or dress-up or whatever cowboys. I've decided that I am a Working Horseman.
When I show up to a feeding, I'm not trying to finish as soon as possible and get out of there. Rather I like horses and I like being around them. I want to notice how they are doing, are they drinking, are they pooping, are their eyes bright, are they curious. The "Professional Horseman" often misses this part, and especially the part about poop. When I ride, I'm concerned with how the horse is doing, and why that might be, and how my relationship with that horse can improve that, rather than what the next showing will be like. I pay attention to the horses out in their fields, not just for their beauty but because that is a huge part of a husbandman's work. I make sure the hoses are drained even if I'm not working the next really cold day. I pay attention. I do less sooner, or at least that is always my ambition. I do not think it is someone else's problem. Because to me, horses are not problems.
I am also not trying to convince anyone of my invincibility. I'll be honest as to what my opinion is even if I know you won't like it. I don't think anyone is below me. Whatever it is that you know, I'm interested in knowing it too. If your horse is looking good, I think that is great and I want to know what went in to it. I'm not in a competition and I'm not in a hierarchy.
"Working" implies a level of aspiration. I'm working on it. I haven't arrived, and never will.
Thus I am a Working Horseman.
I suppose that my contact with "professional" horsemen hasn't left that good a taste in my mouth. I hadn't really realized that until faced with that question. It is like the term "cowboy" -- it can be a term of great derision or a term of great respect but you rather need a qualifier to tell which one.
I've noted the term "working" used as the qualifier for "cowboy" to delineate it from wannabe or pseudo or weekend or play pretty or dress-up or whatever cowboys. I've decided that I am a Working Horseman.
When I show up to a feeding, I'm not trying to finish as soon as possible and get out of there. Rather I like horses and I like being around them. I want to notice how they are doing, are they drinking, are they pooping, are their eyes bright, are they curious. The "Professional Horseman" often misses this part, and especially the part about poop. When I ride, I'm concerned with how the horse is doing, and why that might be, and how my relationship with that horse can improve that, rather than what the next showing will be like. I pay attention to the horses out in their fields, not just for their beauty but because that is a huge part of a husbandman's work. I make sure the hoses are drained even if I'm not working the next really cold day. I pay attention. I do less sooner, or at least that is always my ambition. I do not think it is someone else's problem. Because to me, horses are not problems.
I am also not trying to convince anyone of my invincibility. I'll be honest as to what my opinion is even if I know you won't like it. I don't think anyone is below me. Whatever it is that you know, I'm interested in knowing it too. If your horse is looking good, I think that is great and I want to know what went in to it. I'm not in a competition and I'm not in a hierarchy.
"Working" implies a level of aspiration. I'm working on it. I haven't arrived, and never will.
Thus I am a Working Horseman.