Virtual Brush Box

Back You Go

Rodney suffered a bout of remediation. We survived.

The horses ground-tie to be groomed. They are behind a fence, so running off is inconvenient rather than dangerous. To start, I hold the leadrope. When they shift away, I shift them back to status quo ante. Move a step forward; get moved a step back. Move a step back; get moved a step forward. Eventually they get the idea. I drop the rope. Usually, they run off once or twice. I retrieve. No muss, no fuss. Once they have graduated to being reliably ground-tied, the lesson increases. If they run off, they must return. Since they stepped forward, they must step backward, not matter how many steps that entails. I’ve walked horses backwards across the field, up hill, around trees, into the barn, whatever. There is no screaming, no punishment, just a quiet, calm, implacable backward vector. They get the idea that running away is double unplusgood, don’t do it any more.

So, Rodney was getting a bath. Ground-tied. I finished and turned to coil up the hose. He stood for a few moments until the horse flies came to carry him off. Enough of this, I’m outta here. He galloped back to the barn, perhaps 100 feet. Hubby met me a quarter of the way back, leading Rodney. Nope, no more Ms. Nice Guy. I turned him around, pointed his butt toward the water trough, and back we went.

1) He made it all the way. He didn’t just shuffle back. He took nice, big backward steps that would have scored well in a dressage test.

2) He fussed once or twice. Under his anxiety and next to his overall sweet nature, Rodney has a temper. He put his foot down, flipped his head, and refused to move. Unfortunately for Rodney, he is no match for Previous Horse, When PH said no, he meant, You are going to have to alter the laws of physics to make this happen. I steam-rolled past Rodney’s resistance before it even registered.

3) When we got close to the water trough, he slid a little in the mud. I agreed that he had a point and allowed him to woozle sideways onto better footing.

He did what I asked. At no point did I question my ability to manage him. I’m pleased with both of us.

All Aboard

Went over to the saddleseat barn yesterday morning to help load for the show. All horses climbed on the trailer like troopers, even the youngster who sometimes has trouble believing that he will fit into small spaces. Once, we stood for several minutes while he pondered how to squeeze himself through the doorway to the wash stall. He means well. He tries hard. It’s just that figuring things out is not his forte. Yeah, like Rodney.

Anyway, all the horses walked right up the ramp. Three of them had to turn around and back into the rear-facing stalls. Imagine having to load yourself butt first every time you wanted go for a drive. Then, consider stand in a rattling, drafty, tin can with a wodge of hay for entertainment and seatmates who are prone to biting if you get too close.

It’s a wonder horses get on a trailer the second time.

… um … er …

Of all the silly reasons not to come up with a blog post today, reaching level 50 on Candy Crush is one of the silliest.

… look … bright lights …

I downloaded it Friday, played to level 35, then had to wait 48 hours for the two mandatory holds to clear. Having your latest obsession go live at 7:30 am Monday morning is not a formula for productivity.

… pretty colors …

Horses were fed. Dishes were done. Work calls where made. I even called about a horse for sale. Staggering progress was not achieved.

… shiny …

Save yourself. Do Not Download. You have been warned.

A Sign of Progress?

Since Rodney’s back injury [Daddy Dearest] is directly under the front pressure point of a theoretical saddle, I continue to poke away at the accumulated scar tissue. Weekday therapy is heat [Therapy] and massage. On the weekends, Hubby flexes his he-man fingers of strength to break up adhesions.

When we brought Rodney in Saturday night, he had a small damp spot on his back right over his scar. Medical opinion is that we broke open some sort of small cyst, sinus, fluid-filled cavity. We have no idea what structures (skin, muscle, nerves) were involved, if it was causing him any distress, or if it had any relation to the scarring at all. Still, better out that in, no?

The next day, Rodney did a lot of happy trotting and cantering as he moved from place to place. No way to tell if the cavorting was from improved movement in his back or from joie de vivre on a breezy day. The increments of change are so small that they are easy to confuse with wishful thinking.

Suiting Up

I am currently showing in the Academy division, aimed at lesson students on lesson horses. The heart and soul of saddleseat is in the performance classes: Three-Gaited Country Pleasure, Five-Gaited Show Pleasure. In these classes, riders wear the traditional long-jacketed suit with a color-coordinated derby. Hence the term “suit classes”. If Academy riders plan to move up, this is where they plan to move up to.

When I tried on my not-cheap Academy duds, I could see a gleam in my instructor’s eye. To her this was the camel’s nose. She would continue to gently lead me down the garden path until I was in my own saddleseat suit on my own saddleseat horse. Since I have been at her barn for 8 months and have yet to miss a show, this is a reasonable conclusion.

To me, saddleseat is a detour. I’m getting out of the house, meeting great people, even learning things that will improve my riding on any horse. I don’t see turning away from hunter/jumper-dressage-eventing to go saddleseat full-time. I can’t imagine trying to balance both. I won’t say never. I never thought I’d continue this blog past one year. However, I find the possibility of high-level saddleseat deeply unlikely.

1) Money
Horse showing is expensive enough. Imagine the cost of showing in diametrically opposed disciplines: separate horses, separate barns, separate training, separate shows. The only shared equipment would be helmet & gloves. Oh yes, even if I were to be in a fancy suit, I’d be wearing a helmet.

2) Horse
Barn rules say that suit riders must have their own horses. The head trainer (my instructor) thinks that the horse needs to be focused on one particular rider.

You work as a team and you want that horse specifically worked/conditioned for you. With multiple riders a horse can have multiple issues. When working towards a goal, you want everything to be consistent.

If you want to be the best, then you need to provide yourself with the best equipment, horse, trainer, etc..that you can afford and wish to put into it.

Since I know squat about the upper reaches of saddleseat, I would have to keep this mythical horse in training. After keeping my horses in my own backyard for 20+ years, I would be a terrible boarder. I have too many opinions on how things should be done and am too used to indulging those opinions. That’s just at a basic barn that provides a stall, turn-out, and two meals. I would be even worse at a training barn where someone else was making decisions about my horse’s care. That’s nothing against Stepping Stone, I would chafe at any training barn.

3) Time
If you are going to do it, do it right. That would mean going to the barn enough days a week to make the effort worthwhile and going to enough shows to merit having a horse for that specific purpose. That would mean leaving my own barn to chug along with minimal supervision. I don’t see this happening.

I still think it would be fun to find a saddlebred. But only so I could take him or her away from this life and go jump something. As I’ve said elsewhere, I’ll stay with saddleseat – but as a visitor, perhaps even live there awhile as an expat. I have no plans to change my passport.

Time will tell.

Back In The Saddle

Lesson this week. Yeah! Rode a new horse. Eeep! Trump is good-looking to the point of being flashy and committed to working with his rider to the best of his understanding. However, he may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer. Reminds me of Rodney.

After my whining earlier about not riding [Grateful], you’d think I’d be skipping about farting rainbows. It doesn’t work that way. Nothing much changes in my activities of daily living or my response thereto. It’s just that over the next few days there will be an absence of crazy.

Riding doesn’t necessarily make me happy. I’m always a nervous mess on the mounting block. (Previous Horse was the one inexplicable exception to this rule.) Thirty minutes on an ASB leaves me exhausted for the rest of the day. I still flog myself for mistakes and decisions made decades ago.

It’s just that not riding is worse.

New Rule

The good news: Mathilda is getting stronger.
The bad news: so is her willfulness.

The blacksmith was here on Tuesday. Just because she could hold her own weight didn’t mean she wanted to. She was on her worst behavior for shoeing since her injury. We finally had a kerfuffle that sent the people running for cover and convinced the mare to fly straight for the remaining feet.

As he left, my blacksmith warned me to be careful working with her. He is not a worrisome sort. Perhaps I should listen to him. New barn rule: No one picks up Mathilda’s feet unless the other person is there. That means picking out, painting unguents on the sole, or putting on booties.

It’s one of those low-risk, high-outcome situations. It’s very unlikely that anything would happen. However, if it were to go bad, it’s likely to go bad suddenly and in unexpected directions. Even before she got wobbly, she had proven her lack of natural grace. Granted that just my opinion, but I’m the one she landed on [Helmet Evangelism]. I’m not worried. Just establishing good habits.

Do you have any barn-specific safety rules?