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 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.

Damn That Mare!

Earlier this week, I went up the hill for our weekly riding date. I wasn't in any hurry, and for once Mom and Bill didn't have to rush to get back for check-in, so I was feeling pretty Zen. The mountains always do wonders for my mood, and I was starting off in a pretty good mood to begin with. I was looking forward to an amazing ride on my amazing horse.

When I went into the pen to grab her, she and Alloy were down by the creek getting some water. It was so pretty, I just had to take a picture.

Skeeter saw me coming and decided she needed to drink the creek dry before she was caught. No big deal, we weren't under any time crunch and I was in a fantastic mood. I didn't even much care that she walked away when I went up to her, she just went to the top of the hill where I normally catch her. 

She stood at the hitch rail like a pro while I groomed, fly sprayed, and tacked her up. A gentleman wandering by stopped to chat and she was happy to be a perfect Mustang Ambassador. She didn't even give me much trouble putting her boots on. 

It's always fairly easy to get her left boot on, but her right one is always troublesome. No big deal, I was in a fantastic mood, so it didn't bother me to have to put her on a circle for a couple of laps. As soon as we got back to the hitch rail, she gave me her right foot and the boot went on.

I led her across the street and up the hill with Bill leading out and Mom riding drag. At the base of the switchback, she stopped cold, but move up when I drove her forward with the lead rope. I led her up the upper trail, rather than the switchback and she walked right up it without a problem. My thought is that we'll spend the rest of the riding season walking her up the upper trail so that she can build not-traumatic memories of that and hopefully override the bad memories of the switchback.

Alloy was being his normal impatient self, so Bill was riding him out and back, out and back, while Skeeter and I trudged along to a place where I could mount up. I was wearing an old, comfortable pair of jeans that are just a touch too big. Like, barely too big. Unfortunately, when I went to mount up, the bottom of the leg of my pants got caught on the back of my boot and I ripped my pants in the crotch. But, you know what? It was okay, because I was in a fantastic mood.

I got settled in and gave Skeeter a little nudge to move. Huh. She didn't move. So I clicked and kicked again. Nothing. It was at this point that my fantastic mood began to deteriorate, and I knew she and I would be fighting for the entire ride. When she puts her stubborn pants on and plants herself, there's not a lot to be done.

Now, last week, when she got tired and stopped, I dismounted and led her a ways, but that wasn't going to happen this time. I'd just gotten on for freak's sake! Meanwhile, Bill and Alloy are riding out and back, out and back. Once Alloy gets moving, he has to keep moving or he gets all "ants in his pants" and starts thinking about bucking.

A couple of hard kicks and a threat with the end of the reins later, Skeeter sighed and took about ten steps before stopping again. Lather, rinse, repeat, for half a mile. At one point, I asked Mom to move up ahead of us, hoping Skeets would just follow. Washoe was very patient, and Alloy was getting lots of exercise riding out and back, out and back.

I had, about the third time she stopped for no reason, reached my boiling point. I was so angry, my fists were clenched and I was saying not very nice words. I had decided to tell Bill to turn on the upper rubber strip trail so we could just do the short one-hour ride and head back, when he and Alloy made the turn without me saying anything. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

Skeeter made the turn nicely and walked about 25 yards before she came to a dead stop. Again. I picked up my rein and smacked her hard right on the shoulder to get her moving. Since she stepped on my 9' reins a few weeks ago, I've been riding in my 7' ones and they're too short to smack her on the ass without pulling on her mouth, so the shoulder it was.

She must have realized she'd done effed up this time and jumped sideways into a small tree and some dead fall.

She almost looks athletic in this picture. She's not.

Unfortunately, she jumped and crashed right as Bill and Alloy were headed back toward us. Alloy heard the smack and saw Skeeter jump, so bad, bad things had to have been happening. Of course, his first reaction is to buck. The picture is the last one Bill took right before he went ass over tea kettle. 

Bill hit the ground, Skeeter came to a dead stop, and Alloy took about three running strides before sauntering off. I dismounted to check on Bill, who had the wind knocked out of him, while Mom and Washoe went after Alloy.

Once Bill could breathe again, we hiked up the mountain to meet Mom and Washoe with Alloy. Bill remounted to ride out, and Mom encouraged me to remount, but I refused. Alloy's frustration was also at a boiling point because of Skeeter's refusal to move and I didn't want to add any more frustration and cause another wreck.

Yes, it would have been best for me to remount and force Skeeter to carry me out, but it was not in the best interest of Bill and Alloy, so I hiked out. Not the first time it's happened, won't be the last, I'm sure.

I told Mom that once we got back to the lodge, we were going to drop Bill and Alloy off and I was going to mount back up and ride at least around the block. Not the best solution, but a decent compromise, I felt.

Skeeter was Not Pleased when we got back to the lodge and I mounted up. Mom and Washoe rode along with us for support. Skeets and I had a big ole fight about leaving the parking lot and another big ole fight in the neighbor's front yard, but we finally got moving and stayed moving. We only rode about two blocks, and on the way back, we kind of zig-zagged through parking lots and such, taking the indirect way home so she couldn't bolt back to the hitch rail.

For the first time EVER, I considered getting spurs. I don't ride in them, because I've never been trained to and I've ridden horses who have been ruined by people wearing spurs who have no business doing so. But... I seriously considered making an exception. Instead, I'm going to strip the horn bag off my saddle so I can get a good over-under with the rein if necessary. Also, a riding crop may be in her future if she doesn't straighten the eff up.

The next time we go out, it will probably just be me and Mom since Bill's on injured reserve, and we will have all the time in the world for our battle royale. Of course, since we'll have time to fight it out, she won't give me any problems at all.

Gah! Mares.

GISH #153

During the week of GISH, we are forbidden from posting our challenges on social media (unless directly instructed to do so). That rule is sooooo hard to live by, especially since the challenges are a ton of fun and I wanted to show off my amazing, crazy family.

Jay and I were placed on a random team with people we didn't know, from all over the world, and I was a bit hesitant. I shouldn't have been, everyone on the team was amazing and supportive and we each brought our own special talents to the team. Jay is far more artistic than I, so the tasks he chose played to his strengths. I signed up for the tasks that I could incorporate the animals in, and recruited Mom and Bill to help me out with three of the tasks.

Last Monday (7/29/19), I spent the day at the lodge with them working on my tasks. I'm not sure I've laughed that hard in a long time. Everyone worries about making memories with their children when they're young, but I think we should also spend time as adults making memories with our parents. Turns out, it's a lot more fun, especially when you have parents like mine.

Here's the first task we tackled on Monday:

You can't tell me that this challenge wasn't custom made for us! Puh-leeze! Unicorns in the living room? I couldn't sign up for that one fast enough. I called Mom when the list was released and asked if we could do this. I really only asked out of courtesy, because I knew she's be all in.

The first thing we needed to do was transform Mom into the Fairy Mother and Washoe into the Wonder Unicorn. Mom was easy, I found some fairy wings at a costume shop and put her in them. We also dressed up our hats, as they were going to be used for two challenges.

Washoe's horn took just a bit more work, but not much. A paper towel roll, sliced and diced, then covered with aluminum foil made the perfect horn. A couple of heavy duty bread ties to attach it to his halter, et voila! A unicorn.




Despite his little slip on the hardwood floor, he did great. I initially imagined him in front of the fireplace with the Fairy Mother (aka Bionic Cowgirl), but didn't want to risk more slipping on the floor while getting to the area rug in front of the fireplace.

A friend of Mom's was kind enough to video the whole thing, as I was focused on getting pictures. It always delights people when the horses visit the inside of the people barn, and Mom's friend was no exception.

Our first task went off without a hitch! One down, two to go.

(Cross-posted on Just Another Perfect Day)

Million Dollar Idea Unveiled!

Alternatively titled: How to Potentially Kill Yourself and Your Horse

A while back, Mrs Mom made a "Trail Riders' Mounting Strap" for people who need a little extra help mounting while out on the trail.

I saw that and thought it would be cool if I could use something similar to mount while bareback, so I thought and thought and ran it by Bill and Mom.  My thought was that if I had something long enough, I could have Estes step on it, drape it across her back and use the loop to just step up.

Bill and I tried it with a tow strap, figured out how long we'd need it and I sent off my idea to Mrs Mom.

My Million Dollar Idea came in last week, but I wasn't able to get up to the lodge to play with it, so I told Mom and Bill to give it ago.

Being the good bloggers they are, the remembered to take video.  Bill and Ranger went first...
It might have worked better if Ranger wasn't so ornery.  After the first time, you can see him wait until Bill's ready and then he deliberately steps off the strap.  I love that horse :)


So Bill decided to out-smart him and tie the strap around his leg. 


After Bill had success, Mom and Washoe gave it a go.  They started with the strap under the hoof, too, but Washoe was having none of it.


So Mom followed Bill's lead and tied it around Washoe's leg.  Untying the knot looked a whole lot like horse yoga or something.


Yesterday, after I got off work from the Livery, I decided to finally try out my Million Dollar Idea on my own horse.  Knowing Mom and Bill had success, I was ready to go!

I was fairly smug about the fact that I knew Her Highness, Queen Estes would not step off of the strap until I told her to.  All of the hoof soaking we did last year gave me confidence that she'll leave her hooves where I tell her to.  And she did.  She stood like a pro the whole time I tried climbing up.  (And of course Bill didn't get any video of that!  I think he's trying to sabotage me.)

I tried and tried, but couldn't get my arse up. The failure with the strap was me. I don't know if I was just physically exhausted from working or I'm just a dumbass, but I couldn't get it to work out. So I tried the old tie-it-around-her-leg trick that worked for Mom and Bill.

Still a no-go.






I have my suspicions about why it won't work for me, but I'll hold onto those for now until I get a chance to try it again when I'm not so physically wiped out.

Washoe the Wonder Idiot Does Water

Beel describes Washoe as the kid who runs around with his fly undone and has no clue.  I just call him the Wonder Idiot.  But to be fair, he didn't have a very good start.  His first humans treated him like a lap dog and kept him alone - he had no instruction from other horses as to how to behave.  He truly had no "horse manners", he had no clue how to interact with Jesse and Ranger and it took him a long time to learn.  His human manners were even worse when Mom bought him.  He'd been treated like a lap dog, as I've said, but he got big and pushy to the point that he was dangerous to his first owners.  Moving in with Jesse and Ranger and Mom and Bill was a bit of a culture shock to poor Washoe man.

Washoe's always had a bit of trouble with water, too.  Again, not his fault.  Mom had asked the barn boss (a total asshole who we ran off after he threatened to hit one of the wranglers) to help work Washoe.  When Washoe balked at the water, he wrapped his lead rope around a tree and started whipping and winching him across the small stream.  Mom just about killed the barn boss for that little stunt.  I'm surprised she didn't take the whip to the ass.

Since that time, Washoe the Wonder Idiot has had issues with water.  We've worked him through most of them with a lot of patience and firm guidance, but never whipping or winching.  Because of his little problem with water, it's always a joy when we get to do things like this water obstacle.

Lining up...

...between the rock and over the log...

...front is clear...

...and now the back is clear.

I called it a water obstacle of moderate difficulty.  Mom disagrees, as I didn't have to duck under overhanging branches.  That, she says, would have increased the difficulty to moderate.  This, that I did, was merely average difficulty.

That woman is so picky some times.

A Real Ride

Stealing Ranger for a walk around the block back in February was great, but we went out on a real ride today.  I had to ride Washoe who was not-quite-a-Wonder Idiot.  On the Washoe scale of  idiocy, he was down-right excellent.  I only had to get after him a couple of times for attempting to eat.  We laid down the ground rules right off the bat and he tested the rules less than usual.

I'm concerned about the lack of snow.  We saw less snow today than we should have.  We're already under a fire ban and it's only April.

I thought we'd get some moisture today from the look of the clouds hanging over the mountain as I headed up the hill...

I promise, Mt. Meeker and Longs Peak are there somewhere

As I climbed higher, the clouds cleared, which made me happy.

It doesn't take too long for three fools who don't know squat about horses  to tie the lead ropes around their necks and climb up bareback (<--- that's for you Mrs Mom), so shortly after I arrived at the Lodge we were off.

Where's the snow?

Ranger found some.
And promptly fell through.

Snow?

I can't believe the frogs were singing,
their pond is drier than it was at the end of the year.

SNOW!
Not much, and certainly not enough to ward off the fire gods.

It was a great ride, which I needed desperately.  With my change in position at work, it looks like I'll get to get more equine therapy in each week.  My hope is to get my arse back in riding shape before Queen Estes comes home.

Estee and Kiddos

Estes is truly the equine version of me.  A crusty old bitch on the outside, but a total marshmallow on the inside (don't tell anyone!).  Usually she does a pretty good job of hiding her soft, gooey insides, but she totally blew it a couple of weeks ago.  A friend of mine from way back (we're talking 19 years - yes, I just cried a little bit, I'm not old enough to have known anyone for 19 years!) came to visit her family and brought her kids up for a "ride".  With kids, normally we just throw them on bareback and lead them around the block.  Gives the kids the feeling that they got to ride without the trauma of taking them up on the mountain.  Trust me, going up on the mountain the first time you've ever climbed up on a horse can be very traumatic.

Jen's daughter, E, happily climbed up on Washoe and waited for D to get settled on Estes.  Only, he was having no part of it.  We managed to get him up on her, but that was as far as we could go.  His poor little nerves were shot just at the thought of being on her - and she's a short little mare.  Despite being absolutely terrified, he managed to find a smile for the camera...

Mom headed out, leading Washoe with E on board and I followed up riding Estes. 

We made it around the block intact and stopped just long enough for Jen to snap a picture.

I was able to convince D to give Estes a treat for letting him sit up on her.  I just love how soft her eyes are and how gentle she's being taking the treat from his hand.

It's Baaaaaaacccckkkk...

...and I can't get the stench off my hands our out of my nose.

Yep, it's my old nemesis, Thrush.

Poor Estee has thrush in three of her little feetsies and Washoe the Wonder Idiot's got it in one of his feetsies.

I knew it was coming.  With all of the moisture, between the rain/snow/rain/snow, the pen hasn't had a chance to dry out.  Estee's club foot just begs for thrush to grow.  So, after a thorough cleaning, I sent Mom after the hoof knife.  Which has grown legs.

I finally decide I can take the knife to Estee and it's no where to be found.  Hopefully it will turn up before next weekend so I can clean up her feetsies.

Other than the discovery of thrush and the fact that Washoe the Wonder Idiot stepped on Mom, not once, but twice (he was kind enough to balance it out and step on each foot), it was a pretty good horse day.  Mom and I got to go out for the first time this season together.  Of course, there are no pictures of the two of us, so you'll just have to  trust me on this one.

It wasn't a terribly long ride, only about an hour, but it was beautiful.  In the thirteen years we've been riding in the forest, we've never heard the frogs singing in the meadow.  With all of the moisture we've had, the meadow has a small marshy area and the frogs have moved in.  I always feel so blessed to hear them singing - it's so rare - and to have them in the meadow is such a treat.

I may be cursing the moisture on behalf of Estee's feetsies, but I love that the froggies are happy and singing at the top of their lungs about it.

There's No Place Like Home

Mom posted the pics of the horses' homecoming, which left me with the videos.  I'll do a real post in the near future, but for mostly Mom's your viewing pleasure, here's the video she managed to snag in between snapping pictures.


Here's a very abbreviated video montage of Ranger playing Wild Horse.  It really is a game for him; I'm pretty sure he stopped and laughed at Bill a dozen times.  He would stop, turn to look at Bill, lick and then take off again.  It must be payback for Bill embarrassing him on the trail during the summers.



Love how Ranger unloaded on command (okay, Mom's right, all of their horses unload on command.  Estes? Not so much, but we'll work on it.)



Estes started the herd off with her own snow pegasus, but we missed it on video.  We couldn't believe that she would chose to roll in the snow instead of the dirt, but then Ranger followed suit and Eli wanted to, but chickened out.

Day After Turnout

Since Mom and Bill turned out the horses at a pasture other than their usual one, they went back the next day to check on them.  Mostly to check to see if Jesse had hopped over the little fence to take the horses back to the lodge.



They'd settled in, but were still happy to eat the treats Mom took them :)

In a few weeks, Ida'll move them down to their permanent winter pasture.

Winter Turnout

Turnout is always a bittersweet day.  It's good for the horses to be turned out for the winter.  There's something about pretending to run free for a few months during the harshest part of winter that is just so good for the Mustangs' souls.  During the time they are out, they will be without humans to take care of them - they go back to their wild roots.  Mom and Bill hike in to see them every week or so, but other than a few treats, they don't take any food to the horses.  Foraging for food and water (don't worry, their pasture has three rivers crossing it) is completely on the horses.

This will be Eli's first winter as a wild horse since Compass caught him several years ago.  We've given him time to herd up with our herd and shortly, we'll be combining them with Ida's herd next month, so they'll be a healthy sized herd.  Safety in numbers and all that.  Last year, there was an issue with a mountain lion, so Ida brought them all down into her town pastures in early spring.  This year, the herd will be big enough (and without a mini - poor Tigger) that they shouldn't have any predator problems.

Surprise Visit

I spent last night at the lodge and on the way home, saw Mom and Bill's herd down by the river.  I couldn't believe my eyes!  They were just a few feet off the highway by the St. Vrain river.  All I could think of was, "Mom's not going to believe this!"

Mom's always bragging on her blog that all they have to do is call the horses and they come a'runnin'.  Yeah, right.  Time to put that to the test.

I parked the car, picked my way through the fence and gave a holler, "Jesse!  Washoe!  Ranger!"  Ranger's head popped up and he beat feet over to where I was standing, thinking that I had treats.

 Once he realized that I didn't have any treats, he kind of snuffled at me and went back to grazing.

Jesse and Washoe were up on the ridge overlooking the river, but Mom was right, they come when called.  Washoe bolted down the hill, headed right at me.  Though he's a bit lean after the winter, it's still disconcerting to see a full grown horse running straight at you.  I stood my ground and at the last minute shoved his head and neck away just as he was going to knock me over.  He's still kind of gangly and doesn't always have full control of his limbs.

I got him moved away from me and turned back just in time to see Jesse sliding to a stop in front of me, "hey, whatcha doin'?"

Once Mom and Bill's horses were done greeting me, Peanut took over.  He decided that I was his human and started grooming my ponytail.  He briefly allowed Doc to say hi before he flicked an ear and banished him.

Now if I could just get Estes to come a'runnin' when I call.  Guess we'll have to work on that tomorrow.

Bareback

A few summers ago, I decided that I wanted to improve my riding ability.  Just because I put hundreds of hours on the back of a horse during the season doesn't mean I'm a great rider.  It just means that I put hundreds of hours on the back of a horse during the season.  I'd also realized that I'd ridden myself into a slump, taking the "easy" horses or horses that I knew wouldn't cause me any problems at all.  My parents put me up on Estes, who I fell absolutely in love with, but also re-inforced that I needed to work on my seat.

The best way I knew to work on my seat was to go back to bareback.  I hadn't ridden bareback since I was a kid, easily twenty years.  I shared my plan with my parents, who decided that they would join me in my quest to become a better rider.  Though we all knew that riding bareback was a sure-fire way to improve our seat, it took a little courage to actually do it.

Estes was unavailable to lease that summer, so I was leasing her daughter, Meeker.  Meeks is a touch more mellow than Estes, which was a good thing.  I'm not sure I would have had the courage to climb aboard Estes bareback without some practice under my belt.  Estes is quick; she can spin on a dime and change directions in the blink of an eye.  Meeker, while she's super agile like Estes, was not nearly as prone to spin out from under me.

We started out with very short rides.  Literally just once around the block and we were good.  I spent the entire ride reminding myself to breathe and relax, to let Meeker's legs be mine and just move with her.  It was tough.  The next time out, we went twice around the block, which was a fairly flat ride.  We repeated the twice around the blog thing for a week or so.  Our goal was to be able to do the one-hour loop in Roosevelt National Forest by the end of the summer completely bareback.

Once we were comfortable riding at a walk on flat land, we increased our distance and began to incorporate small hills.  In order to meet our goal of riding the one-hour loop across the street in the forest, we'd have to be able to climb and descend hills while staying on our horses.  We added in the Ski Road loop, which included not only gradual climbs and descents, but scary things like traffic and barking dogs.

More rapidly than I thought would happen, we began to enjoy bareback riding and in no time, tacking up our horses for a short ride seemed more trouble than it was worth.  As we increase our time bareback, we began to see improvements in our riding while tacked up.  My knees and ankles stopped hurting while I was riding in the saddle, because I was no longer bracing myself in my stirrups.  I hadn't even realized that I'd been bracing.  While taking out rides for the livery, of course, I couldn't go bareback, but I began to feel like the saddle was in the way and began riding with my feet out of the stirrups.

Over the course of the summer, we all saw changes in our riding abilities and were able to meet our goal of riding the one-hour loop in the forest.  Not only did we manage that by the end of August, but we continued to ride bareback until it was time for the horses to go down to winter pasture in November.  During our traditional year-end ride, I rode Washoe for almost four hours on the trails at Hall Ranch Open Space and had a ball!

I have to say that going back to the basics and re-learning how to ride bareback was the best thing I've ever done for my riding skill.  The increased balance and confidence has saved my rear-end on more than one occassion since then.

Washoe, the Wonder Idiot

Yea! May in the Colorado Mountains! The sky is blue, the snow's a-melting, and the tourists are coming!

One early May the big Delivery Day hadn’t occurred yet, so when assigned a ride, I had to borrow one of my mom’s horses, a grey Mustang-Arab cross named Washoe. To say that Washoe is a bit of an idiot is a bit of an understatement. He's totally the herd geek; he really wants to be big man of the herd, but has no idea his fly's unzipped. He might be a good horse if he ever grows a second neuron.

The ride I was to take out with Washoe was just one lady for a two-hour ride. Not a big deal. Even Washoe can focus for a small two-hour ride. Right?

The first hour of the ride went amazingly well. The sky was clear, sun just warm enough to be comfortable in shirt-sleeves. A perfect riding day, despite having to skirt a lingering snow drift blocking one of the trails. No problems from either horse, good conversation with the guest, beautiful day. Not only was it going to be a good ride, but a good tip. I could feel it in my bones, or maybe that was the impending rib separation. After the halfway point, Washoe started tossing his head - nothing unusual, because he's an idiot and head tossing is a bad habit of his. After a few minutes, I decided that he's not just being an idiot, but that he's tossing his head as though a fly is biting his face, so I dismounted, ran my hands all over his face, scratched him all over, and he relaxed. His whole body sighed with relief. I couldn't figure out what the heck his problem was and decided once again that he's just being an idiot. Because, I believe that in some obscure dictionary, Washoe is synonymous with idiot. Whatever his problem was, the big sigh and eyes practically crossed in relief lead me to believe that I’d solved the problem.

About five minutes after I got down and scratched his head, he started up again. I was ir-ri-ta-ted and growled at him, "you stupid POS, I'm not doing this for the next hour, so knock it off!" He settled down a bit and we crossed a cute little creek all swollen from spring run-off with a minimum of fuss, which made me partially retract my previous statement. I expected to have a little trouble convincing him to cross the water since the summer before he reacted to water like a cat facing a bath. Maybe the second neuron was beginning to develop!

We started up the hill to the lake, which is our turn-around point. His head tossing increased with each step up the hill. At first, for about half a second, it was cute, because he looked like he was shaking his head “no”, he didn’t want to go up the hill. His head shaking “no” was a bit peculiar since he had now figured out where we were going and tried to step it up a little. My guest, at this point was just shaking her head over Washoe misbehaving, but was still having a good time – there was still some hope for a good tip. Halfway up the trail (remember, we were going uphill at this point), Washoe stopped in his tracks and started tossing his head back and forth, absolutely adamant in his “no” now, like there's a fly biting him, only, I knew better. There was no fly, just Washoe being Washoe, but I couldn't get him to stop tossing his head back and forth. The trail wasn’t too terribly steep, but the hill fell away to the left and rose sharply on the right. Being a whopping 15 hands tall myself (that’s 5 foot for you non-horse types), I knew that if I attempted to dismount to the left, I’d fall right on my butt and probably roll down the hill. Great for laughs, not great for the body. The soil to the right looked fairly firm, but having had experience, I knew that if I tried to dismount to the right, the soil would slip out from under me and I’d fall on my butt and probably roll down the hill. Again, great for laughs, not great for the body. I looked back at my guest, shrugged my shoulders, and told her we’d move on as soon as the idiot was finished with his tantrum.

His little temper tantrum escalated until not only was he shaking his head and tossing it back and forth, but he began throwing his head so hard to the right and left that the idiot actually threw himself (and me!) off the trail. Going downhill. The same downhill that I thought I’d avoided by not dismounting. I managed to stay with him as he landed on both elbows, head facing – you guessed it – downhill. His head tossing stopped and I could feel him thinking, "Uh, oh! Now what?" That's a familiar expression on Washoe's face, but I had never actually felt him think it. So we sat there for a second or two while he regained to his senses (what little he’s got, anyway) and I realized I'd kicked my feet out of the stirrups in anticipation of the launch that I thought was going to happen when he threw us off the trail. My boots were four inches above the ground; I could have stepped off of him without any problems. My guest was behind us, still on the trail, absolutely speechless.

I started to relax and thought I'd ridden out the worst, all Washoe had to do was regain his feet. Although he’d thrown us off the trail, he at least picked a fairly clear area. Five feet to either side of us were nothing but rocks and scrub brush. It was the last clear landing zone on that stretch of trail. I supposed I should thank him for that. This should not have been a big deal, if I sat still, there shouldn't have been any problem with him getting back up. Right? Now who was the idiot? I had forgotten that I was on Washoe, the Wonder Idiot. One second, we were nice and calm, albeit on his elbows, and the next I was popped off his back like a kernel of popcorn. Literally. I went from being a nice dormant piece of un-popped popcorn, to exploding out of the bowl. Thanks to years of soccer, I can take a hit and I can tuck and roll with the best of them. All I could think while airborne was, "that effing idiot is going to roll over on me!" As soon as I hit, I rolled to the side and back on to my feet (yes, it was a 10.0 landing!), ready to make a break for it so I didn't get rolled over by 900 pounds of gray idiocy. So much for avoiding landing on my butt and rolling down the hill. Turns out I was going to get plenty of chances that summer to perfect my landings. And, guess what? It wasn’t much for laughs – I think I gave my poor guest a heart attack.

When I stopped moving long enough to realize that Washoe the Wonder Idiot hadn't rolled us both, I realized I still had a rein in my hand. Score one point for the wrangler. Any horse with two neurons would have taken the opportunity to go home, but, no, not Washoe. He stood on the trail looking at me like, “what are you doing down there?” I retrieved my hat – and my pride – from the bushes, checked my saddle, led him up the trail to a spot with a rock to stand on and remounted, the whole time threatening the glue factory for him. The rest of the ride was absolutely uneventful without even a hint that he would start tossing his head again. Idiot. Maybe I should have threatened the glue factory much earlier in the ride.

Once my guest got over her shock, she was appropriately impressed with her wrangler and tipped well. Not well enough to take a dive on every ride, but well enough to take the sting out of my pride.

After the adrenaline wore off later in the day, I started feeling the soreness and thought I'd just pulled a muscle. Later on, when I went to bed, I realized that "pulled muscle" was actually a rib separation. It took until July before I could comfortably lie on my left side again. Thanks Washoe!

Turned out the stitching was coming undone on the Wonder Idiot’s bridle and the loose end was poking him in the cheek. Most horses would have just blown it off as a minor annoyance, but not Mom's little drama king, so now Washoe's bridle sports duct tape over the stitching to protect his wittle face.