Jelly Bean (Or, The Beginning of My Bionic Mother)

It's been a long while since we've had a ROTW, but Mom was kind enough to provide me with one.  Mostly, I think, because she's going batcrap crazy while healing up from her hip replacement.

First Ride on Jelly Bean (March 2006)


Four years ago, we were to visit some friends on their desert ranch in Arizona, for a two week riding vacation. It was March and here in Colorado is was cold and icy, so we could hardly wait to get to sunny Blue Sky Ranch. During our phone conversations with Bucky, he had mentioned purchasing a new “marvelous” mare at one of the local sales. She would be perfect for me to use the whole time we were there, so bring my saddle. He was so delighted with this horse it was all he could talk about.

After the normal 15 hour drive we arrived late and got settled into the bunkhouse. Next morning dawned bright and sunny, just right for a starter ride – and at breakfast all I heard about was this fantastic horse named Jelly Bean. (That name should have been my first clue.) We all headed out to round up horses. My second clue should have been when Bucky said nobody had ridden her yet because he was saving her for me, and letting her get settled into her new home – a very good idea.

We walk Miss Jelly Bean into the round pen, groom her and saddle her with my gear. She seems a tad jumpy, but not excessively so for being in new surroundings and with strangers. I spend some extra time with her and she seems to settle down and starts getting friendly, so I decide to mount up. Bucky is standing beside her head ready to snag her if she starts to walk off, as many ranch horses do. She stands rock solid like the well behaved horse I’ve heard about. I put my left foot in the stirrup and swing my leg over the saddle, gently settling down onto the saddle seat.

Boom! My other foot hadn’t made it to the stirrup when Jelly Bean exploded. She might have been small but she was definitely mighty. I went flying off on about the fourth pitch, hitting the dirt hard. Scrambling up and diving for the fence, I reach for the top rail to heave myself over and get out of this crazy mare’s way, who is now charging everything inside the round pen. That’s when I realize I have done real damage to my wrist. I had smashed it into the base of one of the round pen posts. I have yet to instinctively curl up and hit the ground rolling; I know this is what to do, but…. Just four months earlier, I had dislocated my left shoulder, so I tucked that into my chest and stuck my right arm out in front to protect it. Yeah, not such a good idea in retrospect!

After catching goofy mare and returning her to a pen, we spent the next three and a half hours trying to find a clinic/doctor/hospital that could take care of my wrist, which I thought was just dislocated. Not so, they all said, and continued to send me on to the next small Arizona town. Finally, an ER doc told us who we needed to see, and sure enough, that worked out. I ended up in surgery the next day, Good Friday of all days, and got to finish my vacation with a bandage on my arm. Thanks to a good orthopedist, I have a titanium plate and seven pins in my wrist…and 95% normal usage. Do I roll when I hit the ground now? Nope, still haven’t perfected that, but I am much more careful about strange horses.

Epilogue: Pour Jelly Bean got sent off to an ex-bronc-rider trainer at a ranch nearby. We started assuming she had been drugged at the auction to keep her quiet for the kids to ride around bareback. The trainer rode her for several days, doing his ranch work, without incident. Then he put his wife on her (a non-rider) for a ride and they loved her. A couple weeks later the trainer again got on her and said, “She broke in two the middle I hit the saddle; nearly put me on the ground. That horse can buck!” They wouldn’t tell me what happened to her after that, but she never got to come back to the ranch as a dude horse.

GunDiva's notes: What Mom left out of this story was that she took two ginger root capsules (!) for inflammation/pain control, and after they drove all over creation trying to find a doctor/clinic who could handle her injuries, she returned to the ranch to help feed.  One handed.  With no true pain meds.  She refused pain meds, saying that the ginger root was doing just fine.  She's either the toughest person on the planet or the craziest - I haven't decided yet.

Ride of the Week: Fall Round-up

Bill from It's A Horse Life joins us again for another ROTW.

Fall Round-up

It was a cold and fairly miserable October day, and I had gotten roped into going on a cattle hunt for a ranch that a couple of my friends were working at. "Come on!" said

both Ham and Gary. "It'll be fun!" So we rode out into the national forest looking for fifteen or twenty lost head.



Ham and Gary were well mounted on their personal horses, but I was on one of the horses that the "livery" branch of the ranch owned and rented out in their dude string. "Oreo" was a ten or twelve year old black and white pinto, and not a complete waste of hay, but wouldn't have been my first choice of a ride. After four or five hours of cross country riding in the rugged mountains looking for cattle, I was getting pretty tired of my borrowed horse and saddle, and was all too willing to stop when one of the guys suggested a break.



We dismounted and I tied up my mount. Ham and Gary both KNEW that their horses would stand "ground tied", so they just got off and just left their horses to graze on their own.



Now, any of you that have spent much time in the Colorado Rockies may know that the grazing is sparse, at best, in the high country (which is why the cattle were so hard to find) and a little traveling may be necessary to find grass. The two ground tied horses looked at one another and said, "Forget this, there is HAY back at the ranch". While we stood in the freezing wind, we all watched the two horses wheel and head down the trail at a ground eating long trot. Umm, crap.



"See you later, boys!" and I untied my horse and took off in hot pursuit. Okay- maybe not so hot. I was still freezing my pommel off.



The trails in the high country are often old game trails that have been "improved" for use by the public. Their path isn't determined by the views, or the shortest distance to the destination. The trails are placed not so much by where you WANT to go, as where you CAN go. Cliffs, steep hillsides, rock outcroppings, heavy brush and dead-fall timber all conspire to keep you on the trail, and keep the trails narrow. Narrow as in "one lane, no passing, you can't get around me, alrighty then let's REALLY RUN home" narrow.



After a few miles of trying to "head 'em off at the pass", I finally got in front of the runaways. They stopped and looked at me like I was some kind of jerk, trying to ruin their day, and I discovered my next problem. As the horses had been standing "ground tied", their reins were left down on the ground, and as they were SO GOOD at standing ground tied, neither were wearing lead ropes or halters. After their aborted bid to make it an an early day, they had about three-fourths of a rein between them, the rest having been pulled out of their bits by their feet (man, that musta hurt).



Leading a horse in heavy woods can be a challenge. Ponying a horse by its mouth rather than a halter can be a challenge. Guiding a horse that is still excited from a bid for freedom can be a challenge. Taking a horse for a walk beside your horse, because your lead is too short to let it walk behind you can be a challenge. Leading a horse AWAY from home, when he has already decided that it was time TO GO home can be a challenge If you add all these together, and multiply it by two horses, it gets really tough. The sky was gray, overcast and snowy, but the air near me was blue. I'm sure that if the horses or any cute little woodland animals nearby could understand English, they would have been thinking "Nope, that’s just not anatomically possible." The Ham and Gary heard me coming nearly twenty minutes before I finally got back. They had started a campfire, and were getting prepaired to settle in for the night. They seemed glad to see me, certainly happier than the horses were to be back where they started from.



We had found where the cattle had gone down a steep canyon to get down to water just before the great escape, but now were losing daylight fast, and were out of time. I had stopped and picked up the pieces of reins I spotted on my way back, so we cobbled together enough "steering" for the trip home, and called it a day.



I was busy at the lodge, and couldn't make the trip the next day. They found the cattle right where we thought they were, and brought them back without incident. I'm willing to bet they never got off their horses that day.



Bill

Ride of the Week: What makes a trail horse?

This week's ROTW is brought to us by Sydney at Bitless Horse: Science VS tradition.

What makes a trail horse?

Plenty if you ask me. Any old horse can wander down a dirt path but when it comes to ditches, hills, holes, horse eating bushes and fallen trees with fangs and ten legs that spew fire and gobble up horses whole, not every horse is fit for the job title. Especially when it comes to the encounterables that move. I am talking wildlife.

A horse might snort and balk at a deer in the distance or dodge a bird flying out of a bush who is equally as scared for his life as the horse trying to run away from a retreating sparrow. But when it comes to getting them over these things next ride, that is another story. Some horses think with their heads, the others with their legs. Before you have a split second to even see what the horse is looking at you are headed off into the great blue yonder.

My mare Indigo is one of those horses that doesn’t always think clearly, especially on the trail. She is too worried about going home, where the next horse eating bush is or the neighbor walking back his own laneway three fields away. She’s a big spook when it comes to trails. On the flip side the other day I groomed her not even 15 feet from where the biggest backhoe I have ever seen in my life rattled past us. She lifted her head for a second then resumed munching greenery. Goofy, I tell ya.

On the farm here there is an abundance of wildlife. I have seen everything from deer, coyotes, red fox, snakes of all sorts, birds from sparrows and turkey vultures to the majestic bald eagle. I even seen a timber wolf a couple of times. That sucker was huge. Indigo pays no mind to these animals. Well except the time the two deer exploded out of the bush when we were not even two feet from them. Oh and that other time when…

Yeah that time. I don’t know why I haven’t ever told this story on my blog. Everyone thinks it is quite amusing. This horse that I do East Indian weddings with 200+ people dancing all around her, banging away on a Dohl Drum. This is the same horse that is scared of snapping twigs and tornadoes of leaves spinning around her. This horse should be able to do anything right?

When I first got Indigo she was a riding horse. Definitely a woman’s horse. On her ad she was labeled as “not husband proof”. It rings true even today that horse will forever be a woman's horse. I decided she was going to learn how to drive. I had the harness and carts and the other horses drove. I really enjoyed driving and so would Indigo. She started easily enough. Harness, cart, away we went. It did however take her longer than any other horse to figure out the shaves and how to turn without nearly flipping me in the cart. At 14 she had never experienced the shaves and thought like usual her body should bend. We did this all bitless and have been to this day.

Time went on and she became quite the good little driving horse and even figured how to properly turn. She loved to trot and could cover a lot of ground. We drove all over the farm and the neighbors and even went down the road a little. It was great. My little ride, drive horse.

Often times in the summer we would drive down to the beaches at the end of the lane on the highway. Our lane connects to the neighbors farm. It comes down their driveway and we are at the lake. We use it nearly every time we drive. Here is where the wildlife comes in.

It was an unusually calm day. Indigo was on her best behavior and only offered one little hop and head toss of excitement. We drove on down the lane, plugging along at her quick little trot. Everything was right with the world. We passed under a tree with two bald eagles roosting. They looked down at us as we went right under them but did not fly away. The little ditch with it’s stream was filled with the recent rain water and rushed underneath us as we trotted over the bridge. Everything about the day was zen. Ahhh, relaxing.

Soon we reached the neighbors property and picked our way up the driveway. At this point your chances of encountering a wild animal are pretty limited to sparrows and a squirrel or two. The neighbors property has the most hills you will see in the flat as a pancake county of ours. The pretty little property has a bunch of pine trees, some maples, oaks and a three legged dog.

So we are meandering up the driveway like we had done a few thousand times before when without warning Indigo is off at a gallop. I didn’t even have time to react or see what the heck lit the firecracker under her tail.

The first pine tree came faster than I expected. We made a sharp left turn around it. The second maple we missed by the skin of our teeth making a quick right. The third and fourth pines we just managed to squeeze between. This act got me bitch slapped in the face by several pine branches. Indigo suddenly came to a screeching halt back on the driveway, tail pointing strait up in the air, body shaking, snorting like a drug addict. I was picking bits of tree out of my hair, helmet and teeth, cussing having come within inches of a piney scented death. What the heck was my normally reasonable mare got her tail in a knot about?

I looked around. What on earth did she see? The culprit was spotted, or rather three legged. Tripod as I had affectionately named him, was standing in all his three legged canine glory ears laid back looking quite distraught at why his buddies aka- Indigo and I, did not come to say hello like usual but instead blasted off like a rocket into the pine trees of the immaculately manicured lawn.

Tripod stood in place, Indigo snorted and backed up a few steps only responding to a smack on the rump with my driving whip. We all stared at each other for a good long time. Indigo stood her ground but snorted loudly, the one and only time I have ever heard her do such a thing. A few more moments of this staring contest and Indigo and I walked off to visit some friends on the nearby beach. We were gone an hour or more and on our way back we stopped to pet our friendly neighbor lane three legged dog without the drama. The drive home was pleasant and we even had a couple deer come bounding across a ditch without further incidence.

So remember when you see a deer, coyote or bear on the trail it may be the barn cat that acts the role of the dangerous lion, especially if it is missing a limb or two.


P.S- Hobos that live in culverts may potentially be fire breathing dragons but that story is for another time.

Ride of the Week

The unthinkable has happened!  I've run out of guest bloggers for ROTW.  I've really enjoyed reading everyone's stories, and judging by the number of hits I get every Wednesday, so has everyone else.  I'd really like to continue this feature, so if you have a story you'd like to share (even if you've guested with me before) please email me at tel835@hotmail.com ASAP so I can start getting new rides scheduled.

Ride of the Week: Cracker

This week's Ride of the Week is brought to you by Leah at Southwest Mementos.

Christmas 2006 my sister-in-law gifted her pony Cracker to our daughter. Our daughter expressed interest in showing, barrels, poles, and running for Junior Rodeo Queen and needed a reliable dependable horse. At 24 years old he came to live with us.

What you don't know is my sister-in-law is a horse trainer extraordinaire who married my husband's brother. Now he ain't to shabby one bit when it comes to horses either. Together, I'd lay money there isn't a horse out there they couldn't handle if they wanted too. When he arrived, my sister-in-law had already taken this little pony to barrel racing finals all over the state of Arizona for years and won a hefty number more than she ever lost.

County Fair Horse Show 1st in Barrels

Cracker arrived at what many would say are his senior years. I'd say a welsh pony cross hasn't got any senior years. To this day people ask how old he is and rock back on their heels shocked when we share they just lost to an almost 30 year old pony. He’s become quite notorious in our county and easily recognized on site at events we attend. In shape he still runs low 18s around the barrels.

Junior Queen Runner Up

Cracker lounges in semi-retirement. He spends his winters eating and growing fat and sassy. At almost 30 he's still an ornery bugger to catch. He darts away from everyone until you get him in a corner. He'll still pull you over at the entrance to the arena charged up and rearing to go round those barrels. If you don't get the upper hand at the first barrel, he'll jip ya the rest just to make you mad.

April 2010

Standing in the bleachers watching her run, the audience stares and speculates.
Is she riding a pony?
Is it a mustang?
Wow, did you see that time?
He sure is short.
Do we trail ride with him? Of course. Around here trail riding is as easy as turn right, then left, and head straight for the ditch banks and the Rio Grande. No surprising Cracker either as dogs nip at his heels, he jumps over small logs, and runs circles around Mouse and Diesel when racing on the sand bars. This pony loves to run. His heart is strong and just a little bit willful too. We figure he'll be around for a few more years to beat the pants off the kids in the junior division when the younger boys start riding in shows.

Ride of the Week: A New Perspective

This week's ride of the week is brought to us by Mel of Boots and Saddles.

A New Perspective

Prologue

Initially I wrote ride stories because I had to – the experiences of the trail demanded to be put on paper, even if it was only for my own amusement.  I would come home after a glorious 25 or 50 miles on the trail and shoot an e-mail off to my family and friends with amusing and self-deprecating anecdotes of what happened, coupled with the ever popular “lessons learned” segment.  Later, I started a blog where perfect strangers could also amuse themselves at my expense.  Once I write a story, I rarely go back and reread it.

After selecting and editing this story to publish here, I’m now wondering – maybe there is value in revisiting the past?

Mariposa 2008, although I did not realize it the time, was a pivotal ride in reshaping my endurance philosophies.

(italics have been added as a sort of “backward” look from 18 months later as I identify where I was starting to make changes to my endurance philosophy)

Mariposa 2008

Mariposa was Farley’s 2^nd LD, and her last before moving her to a “traditional” endurance distance (50 or more miles).  It was also to be Minx’s first LD, after 2 seasons of not-so-successful-endurance rides…. and my attempt to “reset” our endurance adventures and maybe salvage her attitude towards endurance.  Philosophy change #1:  LD’s are not just for the old, the sick, or the crippled.  When I first started endurance, I had fully bought into the belief that there was no point in paying to ride 25-35 miles (Limited Distance) if you can ride that distance at home.  To say the least, things hadn’t worked out so well with Minx using THAT particular philosophy.

The weather had been a bit…wet and ride camp was a bit….muddy (quite the understatement).  With a 2WD ½ ton pulling a 3 horse trailer I had to have a plan for this type of situation.  It consisted of:  go through the mud at top speed, don’t stop, and arrive in the general vicinity of an empty spot.  Unload the horses and hand them to someone. Then, back uphill on wet grass and much to your spot by employing the “top speed” principle: get the tires moving and then go as fast as possible until you slip or your trailer jack knifes.  Call it a day and set up camp.

I decided not to think about how I was going to get out of ride camp.

After the horses were situated, I set up for the 25 miler on Farley the next day.

Saturday was beautiful.  I stayed at my trailer as long as possible letting Farley eat grass and then headed to the start.  My watch was early so I had to hang out for 5-10 minutes, and then we were off.  The footing was perfect.  Farley and I once again had a discussion of speed. We MOSTLY kept it at a trot. 

Somewhere during this loop I decided this would be the LAST LD I did on this silly horse.  Philosophy change #2:  Let the horse guide the transition to longer races, not the rider’s personal goals

The 25 mile only had 1 vet check (15 minute hold).  I stayed longer (30 minutes) because I knew her next ride would be a 50+miler I wanted her to learn that vet checks are where she needs to relax and eat and drink.  Philosophy change #3:  Ride today with an eye towards your ultimate goal (for me – 100’s).

And off we went again….even faster.  We are flying and it’s all I can do to keep a “reasonable” speed. 

It turns out Farley and my definitions of “reasonable” are a bit…different.  Farley’s definition:  if I move my feet really fast, I’ll kind of float over the technical stuff.  My definition: nice, controlled trot on the good stuff- walk the technical stuff. 

At this point in Livermore (her first LD, 4 weeks prior) she was amiable to my suggestions of speed (as long as it didn’t involve a true walk).  This ride I was struggling to keep her out of a canter and gallop.  About 1 mile from the finish I dismounted (flying dismount) and tried walking her into the finish.  She had ATROCIOUS ground manners.  I screamed, lunged her, tried to make her back up etc.  Even though I’m REALLY far way from camp, Minx and Farley are screaming at each other (how do they KNOW??????  I’m like a MILE away!!!!!). 

I walk into the finish and try and pulse down.  Farley and Minx are still screaming at each other because I’m just outside of camp.  Ride management is not letting anyone into the pulse area so I had to get her relaxed and below 60bpm on my own (no hay, no water, Minx can’t be brought over….)  It took me almost 10 minutes but I did it.  I scramble to get my tack off and sponge her off so I can do the final vet check.  It’s been cool and I don’t want her to get stiff.  I vet and get the completion (belt buckle). I put her on the trailer.  It’s only 10:00!!!!!!  I finished the ride in ~3 ½ hours (3 hours of riding time).  NOT what I had in mind for my future 100 miler horse….

My cousin and I go for a little hack later in the afternoon (I take Minx).  1 hour walk/trot. 

Saturday night it POURED.  Rain rain and more rain.  All night.  In the morning the ground was so slick I could hardly walk on my own. The rain had stopped but I felt that the footing was too questionable.  Sunday morning I decided not to start Minx.  Minx had nothing to prove to me. Philosophy change #4:  I had never before pulled out of a race before even starting it.   From now on, the well being of my horse was paramount - $$ paid for entry, my completion record, and my pride of being “tough” didn’t matter. 

Getting out of camp we had a “pulling party”.  Some rigs were able to muscle their way through the mud and get to the rigs, others needed to be pulled out with a tractor.  Guess which one I was?…..I got further than I thought with my “advanced” technique of “go as fast as possible for as long as possible”.  It was exhilarating to floor it and go slip sliding and fishtailing through the mud with a trailer. 

I have a secret….I didn’t really think I was going to make it. Can lack of faith cause you to get stuck in the mud?

Lessons learned:

1. Anyone want a deal on a ½ ton 2WD truck? Kind of muddy right now but gently used (HAHAHA!).  Seriously.  I wonder what it would cost me to upgrade to a 4WD ¾ ton? 
2. 2 horses isn’t twice the work, it’s like 4x!!!!!  Not sure if I will try this again.  Probably only for rides that are really far away or that are so important to me that I need a back up mount.  I don’t have the “buddy problems” when there’s only one horse and the horse is more focused on me.  I didn’t have the same bonding experience with the horse like I usually do.  AND 2 horses makes my trailer REALLY heavy for hard pulls.  (see ¾ ton truck comment above…)
3. I am DONE putting LD’s on Farley.  She can do a 50 and I hope she gets really tired.  (*evil little smile*)

Epilogue

If I had to redo my “lessons learned” section now-18 months later, here’s what I would write:

1. Nothing changes.  I had completely forgotten how much of a PAIN Farley was coming into camp – For some reason I thought this was a recent problem!  But after reading this account I realize that it’s actually getting better!  Sometimes a bit of perspective is all that’s needed to appreciate the present….
2. I’ll never regret a decision to pull, but I’ll probably regret a decision to ride when I should have pulled.  Eighteen months later I still feel good about my decision to pull.
3. Enjoy every moment, even when it’s difficult.  That was the last endurance ride Minx ever went to.
4. Slow down – I can remember trying to walk Farley in with the horses screaming at each other and her acting like a MANIAC.  It was bad.  I was frustrated.  I could have done a lot of things, including turning around and riding away from camp until she settled down.  I had plenty of time to complete.  But I didn’t because I was too caught up in finishing. 

High Country Rendezvous and Ride of the Week

RockCrawlinChef made us a beautiful button for the High Country Rendezvous.  I love how he can just whip stuff like this out and have it be perfect.

Be sure to check out the information page (just click on the button in the sidebar or on the tab at the top of the page) and make your reservations soon.  It's only $5.00 to reserve your room at Allenspark Lodge, so call Juanita and Bill soon before we fill up, 303-747-2552.

AND...

I'm looking for more guest bloggers for Ride of the Week for May and June.  It doesn't matter if you've guested with me before, you're welcome to guest again or recruit one of your horsey friends to blog instead.  I'm having a great time reading everyone's stories, and judging from the number of hits I get on Wednesdays, a lot of other people are as well.  If you (or one of your friends) are (is) interested in guesting, please shoot me an email at tel835@hotmail.com.

Ride of the Week: Romeo

 Please welcome Jennifer from How did this happen?  (Hunter in Training).  Not only does she have some great posts, but she's future TV star.  She and her horse are scheduled to appear on Horse Master with Julie Goodnight in May.



I’m Jennifer! I have had enough “train wreck rides” to know what riding-scared is. I have been riding for about 7 or 8 years now, and I’ve gained a lot of courage in the last year and a half. This is a story from last year, with my trail pony Romeo, a 14YO AQHA gelding.

Romeo

With things finally dried out enough to get to the trailer door, I grabbed a brush, and Romeo's french link bit, and walked to the pasture.

I brushed off the dirt, well, where my bottom would go. Took off his cribbing collar, put the bit on, and hopped on with great apologies. See, I'd had a stressful day at work, and I felt kinda bad even asking him to do anything. The day was bad enough that I worked late, got home about a half hour before dark began. That left no time for a saddle, and no time for a proper grooming. I just needed my hiney-time.

We walked around the house just a minute or three to see what kind of goober mood he'd be in. Acting like he'd been doing this for years without a day off, Romeo rumbled straight down the road, head down, ears alert in every which direction. He went up the trail on the sharp corner of the road, the one where I always worry we'll run into a deer, dog, or 4-wheeler. When we got to the straightaway again, I leaned, squeezed, and prayed.

We trotted for a little bit, along the side of the road, until a neighbor's car approached. They slowed to a crawl, so I did them the courtesy of coming to walk. Walked past them then quickly picked up trot again. When I ran out of "side of the road" to be on, and the gravelly dirt road was our only choice, we went back to walk as we approached the mailbox.

Suddenly, something got Romeo's attention. What's that! Oh My Goodness! It's a big purple & blue MONSTER! A horse-eating monster! No silly man! It's just the neighbor lady exercise walking down the road! She's headed this way, so you better get used to it.

I got us to the mailbox, and she passed us. She said to me, "Well, that sure looks like a fun relaxing way to go get the mail! You're getting fresh air, too! What a good idea!" And, it hit me...

I was on my horse

Bareback

In barely enough bit to stop him if I'd needed to

On the road

Away from home

Side passing to the mailbox to grab the mail & stuff it in my coat pocket

And I was enjoying myself.

What a far cry from my previously terrified rides, where it was all I could do to walk in a western saddle with a death grip on the horn, praying nothing bad would happen & send my butt catapulting to the gravel road.
Romeo and I alternated walk & trot the whole way back home. He was relaxed, and I let him go all the way to the buckle, trotting along in the dusk. It was approaching dark(er) when we got home. And I didn't care. I've accomplished another goal - walk, trot, bareback, away from home. We're well on our way, now...

Ride of the Week: The Ones That Make You Earn It

Linda: mom, wife, horse-slave. I have seven horses that keep me busy learning, growing and having great adventures. If I'm going to die, which I imagine I will someday, I prefer it be on horseback, but not until I'm old(er). I write mostly about my journey with Mustang adoption on my blog, Beautiful Mustang, but also the horse-life in general. I spend a lot of time every day contemplating deep truths about the world as I shovel wheel-barrow after wheel-barrow full of manure out of the many stalls they inhabit. I've learned a lot about myself in these quiet moments, and I've developed a strong back and weak nose.

The Ones That Make You Earn It

There are so many different kinds of horses: The Been-There-Done-That, Too-Young-to-Know-Better, Ready-and-Rearing-to-Go, Scared-to-Death, or their opposite, Broke-to-Death, Poorly-Trained, and the type I have and love, The Make-You-Earn-It.

The Make-You-Earn-It type (MYEI) may have had the best and most training possible, but when it comes to you, the new owner, they act like they don’t even know how to take a bridle and bit. They raise their head, long neck stretched about 20 feet, while you struggle on tippy-toes to get a hand on the bridge of their nose. After a great deal of sweating and swearing, you manage to get a side over one ear, but they find a way out—knocking you and the bridle you walked in with on your ****. The problem here is, with MYEIs it’s not about you training them; it’s about them training YOU!

Before you got one, you were overly confident, raised and weaned on the Been-There-Done-Thats, and the Broke-to-Deaths, but come to find out, you didn’t learn squat. You were just playing at “horse” before your MYEI came to town.

At this point in my story, substitute “you” for “me”, and you have a biography of early life with my horse, Cowboy; the horse that went through five owners in eight years, but is now on his last; the horse that lost his mama at one month and had to be bottle-fed by humans who spoiled him. Yes, Cowboy, the horse who taught me how dumb I was.

Have no doubt: I’ve loved every minute of it.

Still, to be honest, there were times I questioned my wisdom in getting an MYEI—like when I was ponying his two-year-old nephew-twin across a stream and the nephew, skidding to a stop with wobbling knees, jumped rather than walked across. Cowboy went ape-wild and twisted me around in knots, tried to bolt up the rocky ravine, making me forget, in all the confusion, I COULD let go of the colt. There I was trying to get his head around and, SNAP, the left rein broke off. (Lesson: check your gear!).

Or, the time we waded through the Snake River in spring, what must have been the thousandth time, the water was pretty high and some covered-up bush tickled him just right under his belly--he scooted out of there and started doing his best to buck me off in the shallow water. (Lesson: it’s the second buck that gets you out of the seat.)

And then all the other things: trying to pass other, slow, horses on narrow, steep trails, the early temper-tantrums when I learned, sometimes all you have available is the toe of your boot, the jumping, rather than walking across of logs and creeks. (Lesson: Sit right in your saddle and be ready for the jump).

Sometimes I envied my friends and wished I had a BTDT type.

But come to find out, I kind of like him. He keeps me on my toes trying to stay one step ahead of him, and through the years and all of our adventures and misadventures, we’ve come to know and trust each other. It’s like marriage: you might have your problems, but you wouldn’t want to trade yours for someone else’s. It’s like well-worn gloves: we fit.

I almost lost Cowboy to a misdiagnosed P3 fracture a few years ago. The day he was scheduled to be put down my husband and I let him go for one last 3 ½ legged run. That horse ran fourteen rocky acres with stops and spins and pirouettes—we were amazed—and scared silly he’d die right then and there.

After we got him caught, and haltered, and safely back to the 12x12 he’d inhabit for the next six months, we canceled his appointment with death—it wasn’t Cowboy’s and my time to be broke up. He proved he had the will to beat the odds, and I was there for him every day of his confinement to keep his head together while his coffin bone healed.

I wouldn’t have asked for one. I certainly wouldn’t have gone looking for one. I wouldn’t recommend one to anyone out horse shopping, but despite all that, I love my MYEI, and wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Linda has a beautiful post at her own blog today.  Jump on over there and take a gander, it's in celebration of Cowboy's life.

Ride of the Week: Creek Crossing Trail Ride

TJ from The Ranch on Salmon Creek brings us this week's pictoral ride.  If these pictures take time to load, be patient - they are so worth it.  TJ tells me she cut out a lot of pictures before she sent them to me and told me I could cut some if I wanted to, but I just couldn't, they're all amazing.  I'm certain that you'll all be ready to ride with them after you get a gander at these pictures.

Thank you so much, TJ, for sharing these pictures with us.  I'm so jealous of this ride; it looks like so much fun.

Stay tuned for a really exciting announcement tomorrow!  Be sure to check back in with us tomorrow, you won't regret it.