And Then the Wheels Fell Off (2/6/26)

Skeets and I ended on such a good note last Thursday, that I couldn't wait to give it another go on Friday. A little voice told me that it might not be a great idea, since I'd be getting home from work later, about 5:00 p.m., but then another little voice reminded me that I'd promised Skeeter we'd go out again. I rationalized it as the sun wouldn't be setting quite yet when I got home, and we'd have 10-15 minutes to take a quick walk.

Skeeter happily met me at the gate, and practically haltered herself. Perfect!

Our walk from the pen to our driveway (about 15 yards) was brilliant. I just knew we were going to have another great walk like the day before.

Then her head went up and the geese took flight, followed immediately by shotgun blasts. Ironically, the GunDiva's horse hates guns. Hates them. She settled down pretty quickly, but I decided that going down the farm road was a Bad Idea, and changed our plan to just going for a quick trip around the back yard.

Turns out, that was also a Bad Idea.

Cows had moved into the pasture north of us, about a quarter mile. Never mind that cows aren't new to her. They were in a new spot and that was concerning.

I let her watch the cows for a bit, until she relaxed, then attempted to continue a lap around the back yard.

Cue more geese and gunshots, and we were off to the rodeo again. I'm really happy that I use a 12-15' lead rope. Sometimes I cuss it, because it's a lot to handle, but for moments like this, I really love having the extra length.

She circled, concerned, a couple of times. Then her head went straight up, her nostrils flared, and she must have scented the coyotes on top of everything else. Suddenly, her concern went straight to fear. Oh, holy hell. She could not keep her feet still and wanted to get away, but was still respectful enough of the lead to not yank it out of my hands. She also never tried to run me over, which I mentioned has happened when she was younger.

I let her circle at her speed (trot/canter) in an attempt to get her anxiety/fear under control. When she would stop for a breather, I would talk and pet. I did deep breathing exercises, hoping she'd follow along.

Not thrilled, but trying.

We actually made pretty good headway with relaxing, and started to head back to the pen. A neighbor to our northwest took that opportunity for a mag dump: pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. Rapid fire. I don't know if they were just testing their pistol, or if they were shooting at something, but it didn't matter to Skeets. The shooting came from behind her and she was just barely starting to relax.

It was off to the races again. I've never been at a total and complete loss with a horse before. I'm trying to be less 'cowboy' and more 'understanding' of the horse's needs/feelings, to be more of a partner and less of an authoritarian. It's worked well with Skeeter for the most part. 

I knew I'd have to get Skeeter's focus somehow, but was afraid of increasing her fear/anxiety even more. If she was just having a temper tantrum, I wouldn't have hesitated to get big and get after her, but this wasn't a temper tantrum, this was fear/stress. She's terribly food driven, so I thought that if I could only figure out how to get to the tack room to get a handful of grain, I might be able to catch her focus. 

I don't believe in bribing horses. 

At all. 

And I felt like a failure for even considering it. Just as I was trying to keep hold of my black horse kite, and pull out my phone to text L.E. for help, L.E. walked out of the house to see if we needed anything. I caved and asked her to grab a bucket of grain. She did, and when she walked back out and shook the grain bucket, it set Skeets off again. For some horses, the rattle of a grain bucket means yummies. I've never once rattled a grain bucket for any of the horses, because, well, I don't believe in bribing them and they don't get bowl food.

It took a few more laps around me for Skeeter to realize that L.E. might have something good in that bucket, and she stopped to look at her. Once she saw the handful of grain, she decided that her stomach was more important than her fear.

As soon as I saw the switch flip from "freaking out/OMG we're all going to die" to pushy food mare, I found my footing again. I didn't mind getting big and making the corrections she needed to behave to get her back to the pen.

I'm an idiot who should have listened to the first little voice (intuition) telling me it was a Bad Idea. But, like most women, I ignored my intuition, and rationalized why I was being silly. It almost got us into a lot of trouble.

A Little Walk to the Rodeo (2/5/26)

Last Thursday, I got off work a little early and it was gorgeous out. Skeeter and I are having relationship problems, so I thought spending time with her would be good. She's been okay when I pulled her to ride, but I definitely feel a disconnect, which makes me sad. I decided we'd go for a short walk down the farm road, and just spend some time together. 

She seemed happy with the plan and off we went.

Gentle, curious, and scanning for any
dropped corn along the road.

I have a rule with the horses when we're walking - they can have "fast food", meaning if they can scoop it up without stopping or breaking stride, they can eat it. It's a rule that has worked really well for us for years, though it might not be everyone's cup of tea.

Since I had lyra that night, I'd planned on a short walk, just to the tree and back, which is about a mile. 

Life was happy. 

Skeeter and I were happy. 

And in all this happiness, I decided to stop and take a picture at the farm crossroad. It's a nice, wide spot, easy for stopping and standing. We stopped, I fumbled around trying to get my phone out and activate my camera.

Then, Skeeter caught a whiff of the coyotes. Our coyote pack is large and out of control this year - they're everywhere and they think the farm roads are their own personal highway. There weren't any within sight, but Skeeter smelled 'em and the rodeo was on.

Her head went up, her nostrils flared, and she bolted. Politely, in a circle around me, careful not to run me over, but still bolted. On one hand, I was super proud of how far she's come with respect to personal space, as she had run through me when she was younger. On the other hand, I had to get her calmed down enough to head back home. I knew if I tried to turn her home in the state she was in, it would be a bad thing.

We worked through it - lots of circles, and snorting, and changing directions - until she calmed down enough to spy a corn cob. As soon as she asked for it, I knew she was good.

Still a little worried, but happier with food in
her mouth (so am I!)

Big sigh, "okay, Mom, we can go now."

She was in a hurry to get back, but not so much of one that we had to fight about who was leading the way home. The further from the crossroads we got, the more she relaxed.

She's such a teenager - can you tell how thrilled
she is to have to take a picture with Mom?

Always scanning for fast food.

All the nuzzles and kisses when we got home.

Despite the freakout at the crossroads, I'm pleased with how well it went. I still don't know what's broken in our relationship, but I'm doing what I can to work on it.

Three in a Row

 Last year, I rode twice. I intended to ride more than that, but I blinked. Next thing I knew, the spring was over, summer was over, and we were headed into fall. I rode twice, blinked again, and now we're in a whole new year. How does that even happen?

As of last Sunday, I've officially ridden Skeets more than I did last year (and the year before).

L.E. and I took the girls for a walk around the back yard on the 1st. Probably not Skeeter's favorite way to spend her birthday, but she did it anyway. Back in September, she was so, so chonky that I had to let out all of her tack. We switched to an "extreme" slow feed net from Hay Chix, but I hadn't done any work with her since. I was pleasantly surprised when I tacked her up for her birthday ride - I had to size down the tack a bit. Not a lot, but enough to know that the new hay net is working.

She tolerated the forced kisses.

L.E. and me with the girls, post-ride.

I didn't take any pictures during the ride because I had gotten a new phone and was waiting on a case for it. With my luck, I would have pulled it out and dropped it.

Two days later, the weather was cooperative, so L.E. and I took the girls out again for a quick stroll around the back yard. Skeets has some opinions about riding, and I can't quite understand what she's trying to tell me yet, but hopefully we'll get it figured out soon. She'll go nicely around the yard for a while, then grab the bit and "take off" either west toward our neighbor's or south toward the pen. And by "take off", I mean quickly trot. She's a lazy girl at heart.

A between the ear pic.

Yay! Up on my horse!

For the second ride, I'd just finished painting part of Maggie's walls and was covered in paint, but I didn't want to go change, so I hopped on in my paint-splattered leggings and tennis shoes. I do not have a roughout seat in my saddle, so between having slick leggings on a slick saddle, I got a lot of practice paying attention to my core.

And, last Sunday, after Mom and I finished up in Maggie, we joined L.E. for another little ride. Washoe's back is ouchy, and we're waiting on the chiropractor, so Mom didn't throw his saddle, she chose to hop up bareback for a short ride around the yard and up the farm road the tiniest bit. A little exercise is good to keep him moving, and he was perfect. I've long called him the Wonder Idiot, but he takes really good care of Mom.

I swear, Pearl knew I wanted a picture of both horses and
deliberately kept trying to block my view of Washoe. Can
you see how pleased she looks that I just moved to get the picture?

The sun glinting off L.E.'s stirrups makes it look like
there are floating orbs around her.

I had to get supper started, so Mom and L.E. got to ride longer than I did. I did eventually get out to join them. Mom rode just a few more minutes on Washoe, then traded him out for Big Al.

I love her derp ears. They make me giggle.

Mom worked with Al at the mounting block, leaning across
from both sides. Also, I love the sun dog in this picture.

After playing at the mounting block, they went for a quick
walk to gather some leftover corn cobs.

Mom chose not to swing a leg over Alloy because he was too focused on what the mares were doing, and was completely ignoring her. Maybe as we do this more often, he'll relax and not care so much what we're doing so he can focus on Mom.

Skeets did have a bit of a temper tantrum and tried "taking off", but it didn't work any better than it had the last couple of times. There are times when I do wish I could read her mind. She's trying to tell me something, but I'm too dumb to figure it out. We'll get there eventually.

Happy Birthday to the Wild Ones!

January 1st is the "official" birthday for racehorses, and we've adopted it as the mustangs' birthdays as well since we don't have any actual dates of birth for them. 

Their birthday morning stated off pretty rough, if you were to ask them. Which no one did. Ask them, I mean, but they started screaming bloody murder about 7:30 this morning, alerting the whole neighborhood that they were being neglected. They were starving to death and even dragged the feeder over to the gate to prove to us that it was (mostly) empty.

There were still a few bites of hay in there, but they knew they would need that so they wouldn't actually perish of starvation while Jay and I put the new bale out.

Do you see how neglected they are? Skin and bones, the lot of them. 

We were forgiven once the new bale was put out, even if it took us far too long in their opinion. 

Once they had a few hours on the new bale, L.E. and I pulled the girls for a little afternoon ride in the backyard. Skeets wasn't thrilled, but I was. She's lost some weight, and I had to do some adjusting of her tack. The new "extreme slow feed" hay net is doing its job. 

I didn't have any birthday carrots for them, so after our ride, Jay and I ran into town for a couple of errands and picked some up on the way home. 

They were appropriately appreciative, and would have eaten the whole bag of they'd been allowed to. 

Overall, I think they had a pretty good birthday. (At least this year, I didn't make them wear party hats like I've done in the past!)

I'm Not Sure I Deserve Skeeter

It's been two weeks since I've had a chance to climb back up on Skeeter. (As I typed that, it sounded like I was going to confession - ha!)

Maybe I needed the almost two years without riding to appreciate what a gem of a mare I have. I mean, she's still pushy on the ground, and opinionated, but she really is a special horse and I'm glad she chose me all those years ago.

She eagerly met me at the gate when I called her, and remembered her manners as we were leaving the pen. Last time, she got in big trouble for trying to push past me instead of waiting until she was asked to follow. We did have a bit of a discussion about approaching the hitch rail. She prefers to be tied to Pearl's hitch rail, because then she cleans up everything Pearl has dropped out of her bowl. When we walk by Pearl's rail and head to our own, she gets sad and stubborn. It didn't take too much to remind her that she needed to walk up nicely to her own hitch rail, but it's definitely something we'll have to work through.

She stood like a rock star while getting groomed and saddled. Which, she should, being an old broke horse, but we're out of practice.

She still doesn't like the mounting block, and prefers me to mount from the ground, but until she loses some weight and I gain some flexibility, that's not going to happen. I'm super thankful for all of my Estes training, though, since Skeets likes to walk off as I mount from the block. She doesn't when I mount from the ground. Do I know that I should dismount and keep at it until she stands still? Yes. Am I willing to invest the time in that right now? No. That's something that we'll work on when it's just the two of us, not when L.E. and Pearl are waiting on us. Yes, I know that makes me a "bad" owner/rider, but frankly, at this point, I'm picking my battles.

We only rode for about 15 minutes around the backyard, working on serpentines, figure eights around a tree and the mounting block, a few laps each direction. When she wanted to pick up a trot, I let her and kept her going a few more steps when she wanted to come back down to a walk. My body is remembering what it's like to be astride and I was much more relaxed this time. Still had to remind myself to breathe while posting, but that'll come back as well.

L.E. and Pearl

It's not a ride if I don't get a picture of her derp ears.

Our backyard has changed a lot in the past couple of years,
the horses don't seem to mind the changes.

The pallets that make up the walls of the greenhouse used
to be our bridge obstacles for the horses.

The ride was short and sweet, and I asked Skeeter to drop me off at the mounting block. I don't recall the last time I dismounted onto the mounting block, actually, I'm not sure I ever have. After a moment of confusion she stepped right up and allowed me to dismount without moving a muscle. It felt very weird (for both of us, I'm sure).

After our ride, I wanted to take her through the archway in front of the greenhouse. It's something I want to work on, because I want to take our Christmas pictures there and it didn't go so well last year. I had laid cardboard down to kill the weeds, and none of the horses liked walking on the slippery cardboard. This summer, I was able to get the flagstone put down and some creeping thyme planted, so it's more like real ground instead of cardboard ground.

L.E. was kind enough to take pictures for us, and I'm so thrilled with how well Skeets did walking through the arch.

You can see how thrilled she is. Willing,
but unimpressed.

Even less impressed with forced cuddles ...

"Ugh, Mom! A kiss?!"

"Are we done yet?"

Funny how she never balks when we're done riding, and we're headed back to her hitch rail to get undressed after a ride, isn't it?

Someone looks pretty proud
of herself, doesn't she?

"Don't forget my 'good girl' treat, Mom."

She's so out of shape that even the short time we rode, she lathered up between her legs and couldn't wait to throw herself on the ground for a good roll. We'll keep with the short rides for a bit, and gradually increase our time as her fitness improves. Now that we're both middle aged, it takes longer than it did when we were young 'uns.

I Finally Rode My Horse!

The last documentation I have of riding Skeeter was from November 13, 2023 at my neighbor's arena. I rode with the Bionic Cowgirl and L.E. I always take pictures of our rides for documentation, even though the pictures are basically always the same, and kind of boring. However, I'm glad I'm in the habit of it, so I could look back to see how long it's been since I rode.

671 DAYS!

That's almost two years. Holy cow, I feel bad about it. But you know what? I have the most amazing, pain in the ass mare you'll ever meet. I pulled her from the pen, did about five minutes worth of ground work (no longing - I don't believe in it for "getting the wiggles out") with her, to make sure she was paying attention to me, then saddled her up.

The saddle used to fit. It used to fit quite nicely. Almost two years ago. Now that she's been sitting and is chonky, her clothes don't fit at all. 

She is a big girl right now.

Unlike human clothes, though, just letting out the cinches a few notches, and loosening the breast collar, made her saddle wearable. Does it fit well enough for a two hour ride on the mountain? No. Does it fit well enough to piddle around the yard and the farm roads to get exercise to start getting the weight off? Yes. She stood like the well-broke horse she is while I adjusted everything. 

We did just a few more minutes of ground work while we waited on L.E. and Pearl to get home from their lesson. While we were waiting, I thought I'd get her bitted up. Y'all. The girl's face got fat! I had to let out the bridle by a hole on each side. I probably should have loosened her chin strap as well, but she did okay with it, and I'll double check it again next time we ride.

As usual, she gave me some attitude about wanting to use the mounting block. She much prefers me to mount from the ground. However, with her increased girth, the stirrups are about an inch too high for me to reach from the ground, not that they were ever easy for me to reach to begin with. After a few refusals at the mounting block, we got our poop in a group and I climbed on my horse for the first time in forever.

Obligatory between the ears pic.

L.E. was kind enough to take pictures of us.

Ignore the brimless helmet - my hell hat brim
came off and I haven't replaced it.

We rode for only about 10 - 15 minutes, but it was enough to get started. Enough to remind both myself and Skeeter that we can do this. It's hard for me to look back and see all of our great rides on the mountain, and then realize we're back here, not quite to square one, but close.

The plan is to ride at least once a week, now that gardening season is wrapping up. While I don't mind her going into winter a bit on the heavy side, this is extreme, and we've got to get some weight down before bad things start to happen.

The Aliens Came

The other night, just as I was dropping off to sleep, I thought I heard hooves on gravel. That couldn't be right. It was the middle of the night, and I hadn't heard anyone at the horse's gate. Surely, I was imagining it, right?

But years of sleeping with one ear cocked to the window, just in case the livery horses got out, told me I wasn't imagining it. There were some definite hoof scurrying sounds on the gravel farm road right outside my bedroom window.

Well, crap.

Up and into my jammies and muck boots I went, grabbing my glasses and a flashlight on the way out, just like I'd done countless times in the past. I saw L.E. come out of her house just as I started sweeping the yard with the flashlight, but not expecting to see our kids. Yes, I'd heard hooves on the gravel, but no sound had come from our pen to indicate it might be the Wild Ones. The last "horse break out" had been a few years ago, and those weren't our horses that broke out. 

L.E. said that she'd heard shoes on the asphalt and wondered who was riding in the dark, before it dawned on her it could be our horses. The horses must have remembered they're not allowed to cross the street without a human and come back into our yard.

As I swept the yard, I saw Skeeter and Pearl racing around, running and bucking. No Copper. I swept my flashlight to the pen, and there he was, the good boy, just standing inside the fence watching the show. I noted that the gate was closed and the fence looked good from where I was standing. I had no idea how the girls got out, but that was a problem for later. We had to get them caught.

I grabbed Skeeter's halter from the hook, and L.E. grabbed Pearl's. They had calmed down when they saw us, and found a tasty bit of hip-high weeds to munch on. I'm so thankful that all of our horses are "flashlight broke", which is something we intentionally worked on. They know that humans with flashlights or headlamps usually have food/treats and they don't freak out about the weird lights and shadows that come with flashlights. Since they weren't worried about the flashlights, and they'd found some tasty treats, catching them was a breeze. Pearl, with her grazing muzzle, was a little harder to halter, but L.E. got her caught. 

We took them into the pen and started looking at the fence. It all looked good as we methodically ran our gaze around the perimeter. And then we got to the truck gate and the last two panels. The gate was closed, but the panels were ... missing.

There are usually panels here.

One panel was folded back against the gate, and another was laying on the ground inside the pen. It made no sense. 

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn someone drove
through our fence. 

Well, crap. Closing a gate was what we'd anticipated, having to rebuild the fence in the middle of the night was not. We couldn't turn the mares loose while we tried to fix this, so we decided to move the horses to Estes' pen. The problem with that is that it's wildly overgrown. Pearl had her grazing muzzle on, but Skeets doesn't have one, and with her cresty neck, I wanted her in that pen for the shortest amount of time possible. I did not want to risk founder. Which meant, L.E. and I would have to fix the fence in the dark so that we could move the horses back from Estes' pen.

We threw Copper's halter on him, and moved the horses. They were so happy to be moved - they'd been put on a strict diet, and getting to go to the other pen where the weeds were thigh-high was a treat. When we got back to their pen to check out the damage, we found that the panel closest to their shed had been ripped clean off and was the one laying on the ground.

The other panel had been torn away from its "holey tape" as well, and the only reason it was still standing was because of the baling twine I'd put on it forever ago.

The mystery was, and still is, how on earth did this happen silently? Neither L.E. nor I heard a sound. There should have been some thrashing or crashing, or something, but other than hearing the mares' hooves on the gravel, I heard nothing. We looked at the ground for any hint of struggle and couldn't find anything other than the usual hoofprints-around-the-watering-post prints.

L.E. and I worked to put the panels back in their position, or as close to it as we could. We decided that if baling twine had saved one of the panels from coming down, that it would be good enough to hold them together until Jay and I could sink a post to attach the panels to. I had just used some holey tape to attach some repurposed garden gates to the greenhouse, so I knew exactly where it was.

I grabbed the tape, then went into the shop to get the screws and drill to attach the panel to the shed. It was just another moment in life that I was so thankful for Bill's help around the property. A few years ago, he and Mom had come down for a work weekend and he wired the shop. It was a treat to be able to just turn on the overhead light, and pull the rechargeable drill battery off the wall.

It ain't pretty, but it'll do.

I expected that L.E. and I would be working into the wee hours trying to fix the pen well enough to hold the horses for the night. I was pleasantly surprised that it only took us about an hour from the jail break until they were back in their own pen.

Jay works second shift, and pulled into the driveway just as we were haltering the horses to move back into their own pen. Talk about timing on his part! Show up just in time to walk his horse back.

L.E. and I had mulled over how this could have possibly happened. It was a foregone conclusion that Skeeter was at fault. She's the queen of horse yoga, and often sticks her face under the fence to get at the green stuff. She also has a bad habit of pawing at the fence. We weren't sure what she had done, or how she'd done it so silently, but we knew in our gut that she was the culprit.

Except ... she had no marks on her. None at all. I checked her legs, her face, and her neck. Granted, it was at night, so I was checking by feel, but there was nothing to indicate that she was the one at fault. But, who else could it have been?

Aliens.

It had to be. There was no other explanation.

.

.

.

The next morning, Jay and I went to the hardware store to pick up a 4x4 so we could sink a post to attach the panels to. Those two panels were the only two that didn't have a post, because we were afraid to dig near the hydrant when we put all of the other posts up. Now that we've had the automatic waterer installed, I knew that where we needed to put the post wouldn't be near the water line, and it would be safe to dig.

I went into the shop to get the auger to dig the hole, and Jay said, "it was Copper." Huh? "It was Copper." I was still not following him. It was Copper what? "Look at this," he said pointing to Copper's head.

Yep. It was Copper. He had the missing hair on one side of his head and green grass stains on the other to prove he was the culprit.

Jerk. And to think I'd been praising
him for being such a good boy while
the girls were running wild.

Jay thinks he tried horse yoga and failed. That he got his head stuck and when he backed out, the panels followed him, scaring him enough that he didn't want to go near them to leave the pen. The mystery of who tore down the panels has been solved, but I still have no idea how he did it so silently.

Well Child Checks for the Wild Ones

The Wild Ones were way, way, way overdue for their annual vet visit and shots. I intended to get them done last April - of 2024! - and blinked, now it's almost the end of July, 2025. Ugh.

I haven't been spending nearly enough time with the horses and they're basically pasture ornaments at this point. Skeets gets loves and kisses through the fence, as does Copper, but as far as any handling goes? Yeah, nothing of that sort happens unless the farrier is coming. I'm not proud of it. At all.

But ... I finally did get around to calling our fabulous vet for their "well child checks". They needed their shots and their teeth floated. Our two also needed dewormed, but L.E. is great about keeping Pearl on a deworming schedule, so she didn't need that.

I was appalled when I pulled Skeets and brushed out her mane. She's developed a cresty neck. Now, I knew she was getting chonky, but with her split mane I had assumed what I was seeing was her cowlick from her mane splitting. Yeah, no. Very recently, she's developed a cresty neck, which worries me.

With her mane all brushed to one side,
it's easier to see that she's got a big ole
fat deposit on her neck.

Our horses are free fed with a hay chix net, and I knew that she was a bit pudgy. Luckily, I'd already ordered a new "extreme slow feed" net and had plans to replace the old one yesterday. Our vet wasn't overly worried about her cresty neck, as she hasn't developed big fat pads over her withers. He gave her a body condition score of 8/10. A diet and increased exercise should get her back on track. I guess this means Skeets and I are back to taking evening walks. It'll do us both good. The problem with "air ferns" like we have is that once they hit middle age, the easy keepers can become fat keepers.

I'm super proud of how well our pasture ornaments behave for the vet. There's never any drama with injections, or getting their good drugs for floating. They really like the vet and his wife, which makes everyone's lives so much easier.

Skeets did require a second dose of
the good stuff. The vet's wife said she
was just making up for missing
last year's dose.

Skeets was drunk-drunk after her second dose of drugs, so I thought it would be okay to put her back in the pen. I didn't think there was any way she could eat, and therefore choke, while she was in that state. I should have just tied her to the hitch rail during Copper's turn, but I figured she'd just go take a snooze.

This is what I expected - just a snooze while the drugs wore off.

Chonky girl had other plans. She wasn't eating, she was using
the feeder as a pillow. She's sound asleep.

Copper is always everyone's favorite. There's a reason his name is Copper Casanova - he's gorgeous, sweet, and everyone falls in love with him.

I've always thought of him as our "big guy" - he's drafty, sure. But he also runs a bit chonky. Or so I thought. The vet rated him 6/10 for body condition, explaining that his body type just makes him look fat(ish). He's our true pasture ornament, since we can't ride him for more than half an hour, and only on the flat due to a congenital stifle issue. How is it the horse who gets the *least* exercise and handling is the one with the best BCS? 

Overall, I'm very happy with the way our vet visit went, and I'm so pleased that our vet and his wife are happy with the way our horses behave. They might make me crazy sometimes (I'm looking at you, Skeets), but they behave "in public" when other people are around. It reminds me a lot of when my kids were growing up - they had the capacity to be absolute shits at home, but they knew better than to embarrass me in public.

The vet always compliments us on how easy they are to handle, and tells us it's a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of other mustang owners. I know that my mustang friends understand how important it is to have good horse citizens, especially for mustangs. However, a lot of "horse lovers" who have no business owning horses adopt mustangs under the mistaken belief that they're "rescuing" them, and have a romanticized image of what it's going to be like. The reality is, that if they're not equipped to either do the initial gentling themselves, or can't afford to have a professional do it, and then keep up on it, they're doing themselves, their horses, and the mustang image a disservice. They're the reason why it's hard to find vets and farriers who are willing to work with mustangs.

11th Anniversary of My Day of Choosing

January 2025

I meant to have some cuddles and get pictures with Skeeter the other day (May 2nd, to be exact) to celebrate our Day of Choosing, the day she choose me from the pens in Canon City. Silly me, I went to Canon City thinking *I* was going to be in charge of picking my horse. Instead, she chose me, and I'm forever thankful.

This silly mare is everything I swore I'd never tolerate in a horse: pushy on the ground, food driven, heavy on the bit, and refuses to load in the trailer. Basically, she is Karma incarnate. Like those parents who say, "my child would never..." and then end up with hell children. Yeah, that's my Skeeter Bang.

But she's also loving and sweet. And, dang, I do love this girl.

She's not easy, but she's taught me so much in the 11 years since she chose me. My horsemanship has improved - I've had to learn new ways to approach things, and patience. I've had to learn so much patience. When Skeets gets her stubborn pants on, she likes to keep them on for a good long time. 

Trailer loading is worst skill, and her favorite time to don her stubborn pants. We've worked, and worked, and worked on it. She still hates it. There are times when I wish I could get her to understand that if she just gets on the trailer, we can go have adventures together. She loves adventure. There's a whole big world out there that we could explore. If she'd only get in the damn trailer.

She's a terrible mounted posse horse, but the most amazing parade horse you'll ever find. Hates the arena, but will go for miles on a mountain trail. Paws at the gate and hitch rail, but stands for the farrier. Pulls back when hard tied, but will stand with the lead rope just looped around the hitch rail. 

Thank you, Skeets, for choosing me. I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I'm glad you chose me.

I'm So Ashamed

 For real.

#1: I haven't posted any horse content since May, 2021!

#2: Even worse, I haven't ridden my horse since November of 2023.

November 6, 2023

I'm lucky that Skeets is such an amazing horse, I really am. While I haven't been riding, I try to spend at least a few seconds with her each day, even if it's just for cuddles. I just don't seem to have enough time in the day to get everything done. I spent the summer of '23 building Whimsy with Mom. My focus was on helping Mom heal, and so we spend our time working on things other than the horses - she was still feeling a bit unsteady around them due to her TBI and the fact that her body took a beating during the accident. We kind of focused on Bill's death, but Mom spent time in the ICU for a collapsed lung, flail chest, TBI, and fractured jaw. Even though she's bionic, it takes time to fully heal from injuries like that.

We worked with the horses here and there, but always for very short periods of time. Despite my lack of attention, Skeeter continues to be a love bug and comes when called. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was under the weather, and she rested her forehead against my chest and just breathed. It's amazing how magical horses are, isn't it?

With my new-found grandma crochet skills, I crocheted each of the horses a Christmas hat and we've been making them do their Christmas pictures in their stocking caps. It's so stinkin' cute!

The Bionic Cowgirl with Washoe and Alloy

L.E. with Miss Pearl*

Me, with Skeets and Copper

I had thought to get our pictures taken with them under the archway in front of Whimsy, but they weren't really having it. Mom, of course, got Washoe to stand nicely under the archway, but it was too narrow for both of her boys to be in there with her. I'd taken Skeets and Copper through it several times prior, in an attempt to make picture day go easier, but it didn't help. They feed off my anxiety for Christmas pictures. It always seems like we're in a rush to get them done before the weather hits, or because our schedules are crazy and we only have an hour or so to complete them.

I'm working on the path under the arch, so this year there will be flagstone rather than slippery, crinkly cardboard, so I think the kiddos will be more amenable to walking through and standing.

January, 2025

Despite only getting scratches and kisses, along with very occasional outings, Skeeter still seeks me out. I am forever grateful for my mare.

*This is one of my favorite pictures of L.E. and Pearl, because Pearl's not a cuddly horse, so to see her leaning into L.E. makes my heart so happy.