Riding in Costa Rica (6/5/23)

On my last post, I didn't mention that these rides are past rides, and I'm just now getting back into blogging/getting caught up. I haven't been riding my own horse recently, so I might as well re-live and share these.

In June of 2023, my sister, her boyfriend, my cousins, Jay and I went to Costa Rica for our "birthiversary" trip. Nebalee, her boyfriend, and Jay all have birthdays within just a few weeks of each other, and our anniversary falls in that same timeframe, so we started taking "birthiversary" (birthday + anniversary) trips in 2022. Our first was Key West (2022), then Costa Rica (2023), Cancun (2024), and Marco Island (2025). Of those birthiversary trips, I've only exercised my "I get to ride" rule once, and what a ride it was!

The trail ride in Costa Rica is my all-time favorite ride. And after nine seasons as a wrangler, I've been on a lot of rides, so that's saying something. I had a vague idea of wanting to ride on the beach, but hadn't done any research into where to ride, so it was serendipitous that our AirBnB happened to be right across the street from the entrance to The Monkey Farm. All along the drive up to our AirBnB, I'd been seeing hand-painted signs for horseback rides, when I saw the sign for the Monkey Farm directly across the street from our driveway, I decided that's where we had to go. We couldn't see what the farm looked like, and we knew nothing about it, but, by God, we were going to ride there!

I promptly made online reservations for the next day, and at our appointed time, Jay and I walked across the street and down a long driveway to the farm. This is a riding blog, so I won't go into the amazingness that is The Monkey Farm, but I do encourage everyone to follow the link and check it out. They're doing some really good things for their community.

We got a little orientation to the farm, and I fell in love before we ever stepped up on the horses. Their equine program is was inspired by the film, "The Mustang", which I've never seen, but know the gist. Our horses came from a similar prisoner program in Canon City, CO. Take a look at the tack - all of their horses are ridden in halters and lead ropes - not a bit to be found.

Yep, wranglers worldwide are the same :)

We opted for the beach ride, about an hour and forty minutes through the jungle and down to the beach. The wranglers have to earn their way up the ladder to taking rides out, and one of the things they have to do is learn to speak English, as well as take classes to become a licensed trail guide (more on that later).

Headed out from the farm.

We stopped at a bluff overlooking the water.

Riding down from the bluff, headed into the jungle.

We had hoped to see/hear some howler monkeys while in the jungle, but just as we entered, the skies opened up and we got caught in a deluge! It was the most amazing thing ever. I've ridden in my fair share of rain and in Colorado, it sucks. 

A lot. 

Colorado rain is cold, and feels like needles hitting your skin. It's a freaking miserable experience that I wouldn't wish on anyone.

Getting caught in the rain in Costa Rica? It was like a warm shower. The water just poured down onto us. We were dry one minute, absolutely soaked through the next.

Jay wiping the rain from his face as it started.

And now, completely soaked. The wrangler had
to dismount to unlock the gate crossing the trail.

I was grinning and laughing like a fool the whole time!

We didn't see or hear any howler monkeys, but the trip through the forest was unforgettable. We laughed like kids stomping in rain puddles the whole way. 

If you look closely in the first clip, you'll see the rain falling as we cross a little clearing. Believe it or not, the rain had lightened up by that point.

The experience of experience of riding from the jungle onto the beach? Freaking amazing! It was like the jungle just opened up and spit us onto this cute little beach. We'd visited the beach before - it's the local beach for the area - but riding it was totally different.

I tried getting some video of my little paint mare walking through the surf, but you can see that it wasn't her favorite thing to do. That should have been a clue.

We rode down to the end of the beach and turned back. I was still having the best time ever. My mare was super light. A little nervous, but still really light and responsive. I was messing around with my phone, trying to take more pictures of Jay riding on the beach, and wasn't really paying attention to my riding. Remember me mentioning that the guides in Italy kept yelling at me (us, the other riders, too) to put my phone away? I should have brought that rule along with me to Costa Rica.

Headed back to the trees.

See those worried ears? I should have paid
attention. That was clue #2.

I felt her get a little jiggy, and dropped my phone (it was in a waterproof pouch on a lanyard) back down to my chest to reach for the rein with my other hand to settle her, but I was too late. She caught sight of a cluster of flat rocks that the surf exposed and up she went. I can sit a rear, and have done it plenty of times. The rear and spin? Yeah, I'm no good at sitting that. I was suspended in the air like Wile E. Coyote for half a second while she spun right out from under me, then I met the beach.

Other than just a couple of scrapes and being mad at myself for not paying better attention to a horse that clearly wasn't in the mood for rain and the beach, I was fine. The wranglers were amazing! One caught my mare, who only retreated up the beach away from the water, and the other checked me over. 

They were so upset that I'd come off, but not at me. I'd been told, when I first started taking out rides, that most of the time, if a rider comes off, it's the wrangler's fault for not seeing the problem develop and fixing it. I get the feeling these guys got the same lesson. I assured them it was completely my fault for not paying attention to my mare and that I was fine. They gave me a really good once over, checking for injuries and concussion, before deciding I was fit enough to get back on a horse. Their licensure obviously covered basic first aid, in addition to all of the other stuff they had to learn. They wanted me to switch with them, and ride one of their horses, but I insisted on getting back on the mare. She was calm enough, and allowed me to mount without a problem. 

As we headed back to the trail, there was a small stream that was running fast from the rain, and she started to get nervous. While I was confident I could work her over the stream without any big issues (or coming off again), the wranglers were still pretty upset about me coming off, and asked me to switch horses again. I relented and switched with them. 

You can learn a lot about a person's horsemanship by watching them when things don't go according to plan. Let me tell you, these guys were amazing with her. When she was caught after I came off, instead of being angry and correcting her, he soothed her and made sure she wasn't injured. When I switched horses at the stream, the lead wrangler worked her calmly until she was willing to cross. Never once did he lose his temper or get impatient with her. It only took her a couple of false starts to cross and we were on our way.

Despite my fall, and maybe because of it, this is still my all-time favorite ride. 

Still all smiles, but with a great story to go home with!

I never ride in shorts, but since that's all we had with us, that's what we rode in. Jeans might have saved the back of my knee from the tiny little scratches it got, but riding in wet jeans is a whole level of hell I don't like to visit.

I knew this was going to develop like a polaroid, so I took
daily pictures.

Baby little scrapes from the saddle. I promptly forgot about them.

Because our experience at The Monkey Farm was so amazing, and I fell in love with their mission, I made the everyone go back for a farm tour at the end of the week. It gave me a chance to check in with the wranglers, and assure them I was still fine, as well as getting to see the rest of the farm's operation.

It was good to get to laugh with them again.

Riding in Italy (9/24/22)

Jay and I love to travel. A desire to travel was one of the things that we bonded over when we first met. We'd always planned on traveling internationally, but just couldn't swing it until a few years ago. We have a couple of rules when planning a trip: 

1) We can only go to places that one or the other of us hasn't been. For example, we've both been to Rome, so that's off the table. He'd been to Fussen, Germany, but I hadn't, so we could go there.

2) I get to plan a horseback riding trip.

Now, whether or not I choose to plan a ride, is up to me, but if I want to ride, we have to go. We went to Cancun last year, and I didn't have any desire to ride there, so he was off the hook for that trip.

When we started planning our trip to Germany/Italy, I started looking into rides we could do in Tuscany, and Trip Advisor helped me find a horseback riding and wine tasting tour. It was an amazing day. 

Tenuta Torciano

The ride was not through the winery that hosted the wine tasting, but through a livery about 15 minutes away. We met at the winery, where we picked up the shuttle to the livery for our ride. I'm rather terrified of Italian drivers, after a scary experience I had in Rome on my first trip to Italy. This shuttle ride further solidified that I don't like riding in vehicles driven by Italian drivers. It wasn't quite as terrifying as in Rome, but that's because the traffic wasn't as bad as in the city. It was still plenty scary.

This particular stable was primarily a lesson stable that also lead trail rides. The horses were skinny by American standards, but still very healthy. I don't know that fly spray is as prevalent there as it is here, so there was a lot of stomping, and I learned the word for fly, "mosca". Yay for learning Italian words "in the wild".

I'm not very often on the side of "guest" with trail rides, so it made me smile to see the wranglers getting everyone ready for their ride. It appears that the process is the same no matter where in the world you are. Tighten the cinch, mount up the rider, check the stirrups, brief steering directions, and you're off!

Jay getting mounted up.

They paired Jay and I with essentially the same horses we have at home. For Jay, a hungry sorrel gelding, and for me, a cranky dark bay mare.

Other than being perpetually hungry and stomping at mosche (flies), Jay's horse was perfect for him. My mare was cranky and didn't tolerate horses invading her space, she kicked at a couple of horses who got too close and gave a baby rear over something that now escapes my memory.

The ride took us through open fields, beautiful trees, and alongside grape vines. I have very few pictures, and Jay took none, because I kept getting yelled at for having my phone out. They were serious about paying attention to the ride and not my phone, so the few pictures I have are ninja pics. Typically, I'm a strict rule follower, but I needed some pictures for our photo album (which we still haven't completed).

There was one spot along the trail that the wranglers stopped and took pictures of everyone in our group, which was nice. I tried to line up my mare next to Jay's horse for a nice picture, but remember the whole "cranky and doesn't like other horses" thing? This is the best photo we managed.

No way, no how was she going to line up nicely.

I thought Skeets was put together kind of funny, but this mare, well, she'll never win any conformation awards.

The ride was just right, at about an hour, then we held on for dear life in the shuttle back to the winery for our wine tasting.

If you are ever in Tuscany, and have the means, I highly recommend taking a tour like this one. Yes, it was a typical nose-to-tail trail ride, but I'm fine with those types of rides on horses I know nothing about, and it was the perfect way to spend the day seeing the area around the winery.

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.