Kitten Report, No Toe Games

Home Team

Show report coming soon. Meanwhile, a baker’s dozen of kitten pix. Photos in chronological order, not necessarily bearing any relation to the surrounding text.

First Photo

The four kittens continue to be tiny but mighty.

The Ride Home
More Ride Home

They are three times the size they were when they came three weeks ago [Our New Four-In-Hand]. They add the equivalent of an Original Kitten each week, mostly lengthwise. They still have tiny heads & paws.

They were so small to start with, tripling in size is still wee. I can pick them up with one hand, but kitten drips out on either side. I keep thinking how big they have gotten, then I look at our adult cats & realize how much farther the kittens have to go.

In bed, I make a point of keeping my toes absolutely immobile. They pounce, then wander away bored. I would be amused by random attacks on my toes in the middle of the night. Other toe owners, not so much.

Much as I would love them to bond with me, I am deliberately letting them play amongst themselves so that they bond with each other.

No particular allegiances as far as I can tell. Play or nap with whoever is available when they want to play/nap.

They play all the time. Fun to watch but I wonder about their socialization. All they do is attack each other or sleep. They never sit quietly together or grooming each other. (Is this something kittens do?) It makes them hard to snuggle. They play with/attack my fingers.

The tails are weird. The stubbies have squishy flesh surrounding the stumps. As if the skin was available to cover a full-size tail, but the bone never grew.

Two weeks & two days

They are remarkable silent felines. They made no sound on the initial ride home. I’ve had cats who would have screamed for the entire two hours. I hear squeaks on two occasions. One, when they are on the losing end of a wrestling match. It’s less crying Uncle and more, Oh, I’m so gonna get you for this. They will also squeak if one has misplaced the other three. Where did everybody go?

Not the boots!
Postprandial Kitten

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Equines of Edinburgh, Guest Post

Random Snaps

 

My friend Amy Vanderryn went to Edinburgh. I asked for blog pictures. She delivered magnificently. Welcome Amy.
~~~

A unicorn paired with a lion at the entrance to the Scottish National War Memorial at Edinburgh Castle. Virtual tour – The entrance. Artist Phyllis Mary Bone.

Delgatie Castle, Undiscovered Scotland: Delgatie Castle

Fyvie Castle

Photos were taken only where permitted. Amy explains, “Most of the castles don’t allow pictures inside for security reasons. One didn’t allow since Royals stay there, another one explained that they had problems with theft after allowing pictures, so various reasons. Some are on display when the residents are not there. I would hate that. But then again, they cost a lot in upkeep so I can understand it.”

“Ceiling ones are from various family crests from those that lived/married in. The round thing was in the back of a chair that was out, just thought it was cool. The oil painting is funny – the person who restored the place, one of the laird/earl/whatevers, wanted to put art relating to the people that had to do with the castle. That one ended up just being a random one that wasn’t but it ended up staying.”

Previous guest photo post by Amy was from NYC [Crystal Horses, Guest Photo Shoot]. By now, my friends and family are used to humoring my requests for photos. I’m glad. I feel as if I have done a tiny bit of armchair traveling.
~~~
Milepost #2400. Nope. #2331. Forgot to reset counter after break.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

The Return of Milton, Show This Weekend

Home Team

 

Milton & I head back into the show ring. (Cross fingers.) Two walk-trot, hunt-seat classes at a local ASB show, same as last time [The Canadian Horse & The Red Queen].

I had hoped to canter at this show. However, we are still consolidating our walk & trot. Since we only started riding at the beginning of the year, I’m trying to be happy with where we are. Note, if it takes another three years before we are cantering & jumping, I’m likely to get a mite cranky.

Wish us luck dealing with pre-show jitters (rider) and pre-show madhouse (horse).

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

Hangry, Hangry Hippo

Horsekeeping

 

Milton had a very mild colic over the weekend.

Horse: No thank you. I don’t want a carrot.
Owner: Okay, have some Banamine instead.
Horse: All better.
Owner: That’s great. (Gets up every two hours to check for poop.)

Milton was PISSED.

We called the vet when we started treatment, i.e. walking & Banamine, by way of warning. Fortunately, a barn call was not needed. Our vet clinic believes in leaving the horse in a barren stall after such an incident.

Owner: In you go. No dinner, no hay for you.
Horse: Whaaaaaat?!??!

During night checks – why do they always seem to colic at 7:30 pm on a Sunday? – there was poop, starting around midnight, as well as screaming and attitude, constantly. Rodney had wandered off to eat. Milton was alone! Milton had no food! Milton was not pleased!

Of course, you wonder why. Feed/supplement change? We are always fiddling with their diet. Work? Nothing different lately. Heat? For unrelated reasons, we had checked Milton’s temp before & after his short, late afternoon long-line session. We knew for a fact that he hadn’t overheated – up half a degree, despite sweating by all parties. The vet said the clinic had several tummyache calls that weekend and that colic calls had been up lately. So, something in the air?

Milton was better in minutes. He was hangry for hours.

Why I Am Not A Saddle Seat Genius, And Probably Won’t Be

Adventures in Saddle Seat

 

Haven’t had a lesson in a while, so I took a look back. This year, 2018, marks my seventh year in saddle seat, including five show-heavy years from 2013 to 2017 [2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017]. You’d think I’d understand how to ride an American Saddlebred.

I’m not fishing for pats on the back. I’ve had some great times and some great rides. As for truly grokking the sport? Mostly I’ve learned what I don’t know. While I have street cred for my skills at the introductory level, I don’t grasp the first thing about piloting a horse on the green shavings [Why Green?].

Jumper Analogy. I have been jumping crossrails on school horses. I have been to Crossrails Nationals. I haven’t a clue how to ride a 1.2 meter class (or 3′ 11″, the lowest level for Amateur-Owner Jumpers).

Dressage Analogy. First level. First-Level Nationals. FEI levels remain a mystery. I’m told dressage is actually interesting once one climbs out of the basement.

I’ve been introduced to the show bridle, the saddle seat term for a double bridle [Different Versions of the Same Thing]. While I have ridden and shown with it, I am still in the Do No Harm phase. I don’t actually know how to use the the daft thing to influence the horse.

Tack Analogy. Wear spurs. Try not to poke holes in your horse. Wear spurs. Send subtle and complex message to your horse – so I hear.

Pleasure Driving. I am only just starting to be more than a happy passenger.

Jumping Analogy. Grab mane. Hang on. Versus. Follow over the fence with a sympathetic hand. Turn in the air. Land in position to adjust for the next fence.

A handful of nice horses have carted me around at a rack [Let ‘Em Rack]. And, of course, those times the horse racked when we weren’t supposed to [Trump-the-Horse, Robert]. Getting & keeping it on command, under pressure? Not a prayer.

Dressage Analogy. You know counter-canter. You learn tempi changes. Your horse throws a lead change when you want counter-canter, or counter-canter when you want a lead change. Eventually, you sort it all out.

I bring this on myself. My lack of familiarity with fancy saddle seating starts with my stubborn refusal to move up to performance classes. [Suiting Up]

Life Analogy. I am stuck in an eternal Academy limbo. At least I have eternal Academy limbo to be stuck in. [Show Report]

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott

I’m Tired

Home Team

 

Having two horses in work wears me out.

I’m not complaining.
I’m not humble bragging.
I’m surprised. Again.

When I don’t have a horse to ride every day, I whine, I fret, I bitch [so many links, where do I start?]. I miss it terribly. I also forget. I forget how much mental space riding my own horse takes up, way out of proportion to the hours involved.

It’s not an issue of time. When I say both horses are in work, I use the term loosely. Rodney is proceeding at his standard glacial pace, finally learning to walk around the whole, entire field. Just because it’s been eight years this month … frustration alert, move on, move on. For Milton, walking and a bit of trotting in our pasture constitutes learning to work outside of a ring, which is progress. So, I go out, dust off a horse, ride, come back into the house, and collapse.

It’s not a physical issue. I’m not exhausted, the way I am after Nationals boot camp [Progress Report]. I don’t nosedive into bed for an afternoon nap. I just have no motivation to DO anything. There are things that can rouse from my stupor. Blog? Yes. The trickle of work I have left? With heroic effort. Dishes? Laundry? It is to laugh.

A rider has a responsibility to any horse they ride. With the Stepping Stone Farm school horses, my responsibility ends when I hang up the bridle. I love Sam [MSSP 2018]. I don’t spend time wondering if he is getting the right amount of food for the work he is doing, or how today’s ride fits into his overall training & fitness plan. With my own horses the wondering never stops, analysing from specific to general and back again.

I go to the barn. Are they in or out? If they are in, are they sweaty? Do I need to turn up the fans? I catch a horse. Does he come up or run off? If he turns away, is he expressing an opinion about his job? Do I need to work less? More? Tell him to suck it up, Cupcake? Pick up the feet. The blacksmith is coming in how many weeks? The shoes should be okay until then.

Brush. Any bumps or lumps? Does that look like a kick or a bite? Poke. Poke. There’s a lot of horse here. Should I lower his feed? Or do I not want him losing weight as we swing toward winter? Brush. Skin feels shiny. Dust is sliding off. The new flax supplement seems to be working. Saddle, bridle. Everything still fit? Looks good. Need to wash the saddle pads.

Walk to riding area. How does he look? Lethargic and reluctant? Yeah, that’s about normal. C’mon horse, time to make the donuts.

I haven’t even gotten on.

Riding is all of the horse care questions – is he moving well? Is he tight anywhere? – plus all of the training questions – Which way is Milton going? Racing direction versus non-racing direction? Has Rodney suddenly switched “good sides”? – plus all the hopes and fear and dreams represented by your show goals. Some of these questions occur on lesson horses. On your own horse, everything is in stereo, with knobs on eleven. Then reminding yourself how d*mned lucky you are to be on a horse at all. Maybe you should stop and smell the horsehair?

After, does he run off when I let him go? For Rodney, this is a big tell for stress. There goes Milton, licking his salt block again. Is he getting enough electrolytes, or is this his stress move?

I will adapt. Eventually. For now, excuse me, I need to go stare at kittens and let my brain reboot.

Thank you for reading,
Katherine Walcott