Rodney’s Recap, Heat, Liberty, and Hay, March 2020

Horsekeeping

Lucky enough to have a horse.

 

[Old Arena]
 
Heating Up
A while back, Rodney reverted. He’d been trotted well. Suddenly, I had Mr. Hyde again [Rodney’s Evil Twin]. I asked for a simple, quiet trot; he threatened a hissy fit. I thought we had fixed this.

Turns out his back had gradually restiffened with work and/or from balancing on the trailer. We had fixed it. Temporarily. It’s an old injury [Daddy Dearest]. It will never be permanently fixed. Fortunately he responds quickly to improvement measures. Provided I stay on top of them.

Right now, I am baking him like a potato. Sessions with wool blankets and microwave pads at home [Piling on the Therapy plus another heating pad and full wool blanket on the top of the pile]. For travel, we have a heating pad that uses a USB port to plug into a cellphone battery. Pretty cool.

At Liberty
Rodney is LOVING liberty work. It seems to be doing good things for his brain. He has worked up to walk, trot, canter in both directions and small single jumps [Rollerskates].

You have to be careful. Proper liberty work is not standing in the middle of the circle, waving a stick, while the horse gallops around in a panic. The goal is to give the Rodney time and space to make his own choices.

My groom is brilliant at this. Rodney will often change direction spontaneously. My groundperson employs a nice balance of ‘No, go back the way we were going’ and ‘Okay, let’s go the other way for a while.’ At the canter, he (groom/groundperson) is able to encourage Rodney sufficiently to keep him (Rodney) cantering without chasing him off his feet. It’s a fine line. I would be both too militant and too impatient.

Of course, the horse doesn’t really have an ultimate say in what is happening. He remains under human direction. Fortunately, Rodney is not a deep thinker. He enjoys the illusion of control, the lack of constraint, and the ability to make decisions about how to use his body.

Hay Snacks
Let me tell you a story. Years ago, we took Previous Horse up to a show in Tennessee. Mathilda came along for the ride. Since we had two, we rented a local pasture instead of staying in stalls at the show. The person who owned the farm fed alfalfa hay. Mind you, there was no hay in the pasture. There may have been a few leftover stalks. Shared between two horses. PH was nuts the next day. Jumped great but was impossible to handle. Groom took the bridle off between classes to give horse a break. Took him 10 minutes to get bridle back on. This was from alfalfa fumes. Ever since then, I have been jittery about feeding alfalfa hay.

We decided to try Rodney on it. Mostly for the calories. There is some thought that alfalfa is good for sensitive stomachs. Rodney’s stomach is okay at the moment, but more maintenance never hurt. They get regular grass hay at mealtimes. The alf is fed as a supplemental meal at teatime. Rodney gets a hefty dose. Milton gets a thin flake to keep him company.

So far, not nuts. We started the week before the barrel race. You better believe that Tennessee show was on my mind as we pulled up. Went okay [Not From Around These Parts]. Today, it’s been 3 1/2 weeks. Almost four bales of 80/20. Last trip to the feed store resulted in straight alfala by mistake. Since Rodney has been eating the 80 and leaving the 20, I’ve gonna see how he does on uncut high-test.

Crosses fingers.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Horse Show Cookies

Training Journal

If you’re riding a horse, you’ve already won.

 

 
I have a show cookie tradition.

I’m not a baked goods person. I prefer my sugar closer to the source, Welch’s® Fruit Snacks being my current besetting sin. Basically sugar in gel form. And Coke, but that is a constant. So, while I like cakes and cookies well enough, I can generally take them or leave them. The exception is the entire Pepperidge Farm cookie line, particularly mint brussels, when I can find them.

The Sausalito version has chocolate chips and macadamia nuts. This is my go-to horse show food. It’s one of the few things I will eat when I am nervous. Not the most nutritious choice, but it gets calories into me. The self-imposed rule says Sausalitos are reserved for horse show days.

Lately, I have added an amendment to the tradition. If I am not going to a horse show, I treat myself to a bag. It has to be a show that I had a legitimate chance of attending. There is a horse show somewhere every weekend. I’d be up to my armpits in cookies and have no chance of fitting into my jods [Motivation, Diet Progress].

Three weeks ago, I earned two bags. We elected not to go to the first Full Circle Horse Park dressage show. Bag one. We would do the Southern Sunday barrel race instead. Then they moved the show [Soggy Week]. Bag two.

Last weekend, there were two more shows I did not attend. A saddle seat show in Louisiana [Predicting the Future] and the second dressage show, which was the reason I did not put my name down on the ASB list. I limited myself to one bag. My restraint is commendable.

I’m more okay with missing all of these shows than you might expect, given my attitude toward accumulating acetate. One) I did get a chance to attend the second barrel race [Not From Around These Parts]. Two) Although I still want to do the tiny event, and still need to give Rodney a chance to get used to the event grounds, we’ve put dressage on hold for a while. Neither horse nor rider enjoy it. We’ll work on maybe, possibly jumping, then circle back to the sandbox when an eventlet becomes more likely.

Of course, on my down days, that truthful but unhelpful inner voice reminds me that the product of all this work will be the chance to jump 2′. Whee. I try not to think about that.

Onwards!

Do you have any horse show food traditions?

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Horsepeople’s Holiday

Lettering & Graphic Design

 

 
Sun in the evening! Callooh! Callay!

Lest you think I am alone in this, The Idea of Order: Hello, Darkness my Old ‘Friend’… Not the first time I have mentioned a) darkness or b) cartoon on same [Sitting Out Winter Tournament]. Sere also comment by heccateisis on Wednesday about looking forward to the time change. The amount of available daylight forms a major part of your life when you are trying to get things done outside.

Process notes. Inkscape – Diagonal guidelines from axonometic grids. Words bent with path effect editor. Gimp – border & watermark.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Just Because You Enjoy An Activity Doesn’t Mean You Want To Be Paid To Do It With Strangers

Thoughts

Ready For Their Close-ups

When AJ at The Errant Moon agreed to create portraits of my horses, they refused payment. “I work to pay the mortgage and I doodle to keep myself sane. I don’t want to cross those streams yet, if ever.”

While the result is far more than a doodle, I can see the point about payment. Not every hobby has to become a side hustle. Not every interest has to become a business. Just because you enjoy cooking doesn’t mean that you would enjoy running a restaurant.

Do what you love and you will never work a day in your life. Sure. We’ve all seen the slogan. I’ve heard from people for whom it is true. Rock on. On the other hand, there are many for whom this is not the case, myself included.

Years ago, I had the opportunity to spend several months as a working student with a Big Name Rider. My big takeaway – aside from an increased inferiority complex and a horse who was completely unsuitable for the task at a hand – was ‘I am not doing THAT for a living.’ I’ve never regretted the decision.

Maybe I would have had more competitive success with Mr. & Mrs. Household-Name funding my horses. Maybe I would have torn my hair out. I can’t imagine living through the ups and downs of life with horses while simultaneously balancing the whims of owners.

A local barn has a sign at the end of their driveway: Training, Lessons, Boarding, Sales. Those are four totally different skills sets. No one can be good at all four. No one can enjoy all four. And yet, that is what is required if one wants to make money as a horse trainer. Ride any horse that is put in front of you. Teach the good, the bad, and the ugly. Care for other people’s horses. Oversee the folks who are caring for the horses under your control. Maintain your contacts in the horse world so that you can find horses for your people. Tell people whether or not a horse is right for them. And on. And on. And on.

No thanks.

I’ve talked to any number of people who entered the world of a professional horseperson all starry-eyed and ambitious, only to crash and burn from the reality. Of course, some of this is due to the demands of the job, both mental and physical. The barn life is not an easy path.

Let’s postulate a horse world that does not grind people to powder. Let’s say you have wonderful horses, a well-run barn, and obliging owners. Would you still like it, day after day after day? Maybe. Maybe not. Knowing you couldn’t change your mind without losing money and disappointing people who believed in you? Knowing you couldn’t skip a show even if it was your 14th weekend in a row? If you feel caged, it doesn’t matter if the bars are made of gold.

In the introduction to Vanishing Fleece: Adventures in American Wool (Abrams 2019), Clara Parkes writes about turning your passion into a profession,

Since 2000, I’d had a successful career as the world’s first and probably only professional yarn critic … I’d been doing the same thing, chewing the same cud, for thirteen years … My interest was starting to wane. Everything began to look the same; every story seemed to be repetitive. I was having a harder and harder time summoning enthusiasm for my subject. I felt like I was on the verge of coasting, just slicing and dicing the same bit of knowledge in as many permutations as possible to make it interesting to me again, as well as to my readers. Turn passion into a profession and the spark inevitably fades, I figured. I plodded on.

Full disclosure. Parkes found a way to invigorate her career. Hence the book. What if she hadn’t? We don’t read books by the burnouts. They just walk away. For every visible success there is an unknown denominator of failed experiments. Small number? Large number? Who knows.

There is a craft artist who I would love to buy from. However, they have closed their Etsy shop and no longer take commissions. The pressure of making things for others became too much. Now, the artist makes what they want and sells the results. Unfortunately, these are not the items I want. I am perfectly willing to spend money. For this person, the money is no longer worth the cost.

We’ve gotten a long way from paying a few dollars for one painting. The point is, when money enters a situation, people change. You change. Expectations change. Maybe that’s not what you want. You shouldn’t have to justify the act of doing something simply for the joy it brings you.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Ready For Their Close-ups

Celebrating Art

 

 

Rodney & Milton
Ink portraits
By AJ
The Errant Moon
Border & watermark added

The story behind in the art work, The Errant Moon: Horses!

Photo posts, [Getting Our Hunter On] & [For This I Cleaned My Tack?]

Update
Follow-up thoughts [Just Because You Enjoy An Activity Doesn’t Mean You Want To Be Paid To Do It With Strangers]

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Have You Got All Day? Anatomy of A Saddle Seat Lesson

Adventures in Saddle Seat

Enjoy the ride.

 

 
I have not had a saddle seat lesson since December. It shouldn’t been this hard. Maybe if I were getting two horses fit for Prelim, I might have an excuse. As is, my life is not that busy. I should be able to fit in a 30-minute saddle seat lesson into my week & get on with my life.

Perhaps if I could go, have lesson, & come home.

But no.

A lesson at Stepping Stone Farm looks more like this. Go. Chat. Unload all my gear: brushes, saddle, helmet, etc. Put drinks in fridge for later. Walk around the barn. Check out the new horses. Watch a training session. Chat. Find horse I am riding. Brush. Get grief for talking too long to get ready. Remind Coach Courtney that excellence takes time. Lesson. Brush down horse, maybe massage. Watch another lesson or training session. More chat. Of course, I don’t bring lunch because I’m only going for the morning, and there’s no point in buying lunch because mine is waiting at home for me. Review lesson. Say my good-byes. Check the board to be sure I’m not missing anything interesting. Load up gear. Distribute adieu peppermints to Sam, Dottie & horse of the day. Start truck. Run back into barn for whatever I forgot. I invariably forget something. Leave.

A 10 am lesson means I get home no sooner than 3 pm. I arrive home hungry, tired, and in need of a shower. By the time I repair the damage, it is 5 in the evening and I am wondering where the day went.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott