The Daughter

She was ten years old when she told her Mom and Dad that she wanted to join her friends and show horses in 4H.  Her family had three horses, two elderly horses and one younger 'trail horse', a Morgan/Arabian Gelding named Charlie, fairly new, purchased to fill the void when one of the older horses passed on.

Her parents knew that the older horses wouldn't be able to stand the stress of 4H.  They suggested the Daughter use Charlie as her 4H horse.

The Mom and the Daughter checked out barns, and chose a place where they could haul Charlie and the Daughter to lessons.   For the next twelve months the Mom and the Daughter hauled Charlie to the barn for lessons every Wednesday evening.  The Dad would drive there after work to join them.  The family, already close, became closer.  The Daughter and Charlie became best friends.

After a year of lessons, the family decided to let Charlie live at the barn where the Daughter could come and ride him whenever she wanted.  The Mom and Dad were always happy to drive the Daughter out to ride or take her to lessons.  They loved to watch the Daughter ride. 

The Daughter made many friends at the barn and in the summer they would all pack water bottles and their lunches and spend their days at the barn playing with their horses.  All of the Mom's would take turns carpooling them to the barn and back.  Infact the Daughter (on the right) even learned how to sew things for Charlie. 

A few months after Charlie settled down at the barn, it was time for 4H horse shows.  The family had lots of fun taking the Daughter and Charlie to shows in their used 1970-vintage Miley trailer.  The family purchased a camper and the Dad and the Daughter would go to the shows the night before and camp out.  It was some of their favorite times.  The Mom would join them the next morning, bringing them breakfast from McDonald's.

    Soon it was time for the County Fair, the finals for 4H and where the State Fair competitors would be chosen.  Charlie had never been to a fair.  He had a hard time with the noise and excitement.  He tried to be brave but sometimes it was too much for him and he got very scared.  Charlie and the Daughter returned from County Fair with lots of experience but did not get chosen to go to State Fair.  The Daughter said, "It's ok, Charlie and I will do better next year."

And indeed they worked very hard the entire next year, taking lessons, going to all the schooling shows and attending all of the 4H shows!  Early that summer the Daughter mentioned she'd like to jump.  The Mom told the Daughter that she should never jump Charlie without an adult around.  A few weeks later, the Mom found this picture in the Daughter's room: 

The Mom and the Daughter had a long talk about responsibility.  The Mom didn't mention how tall the Daughter was getting but the Mom knew the Daughter was outgrowing Charlie.

Soon the next year was upon them and it was time again for the County Fair.  Charlie was now used to the noise and bustle but sadly once again the Daughter and Charlie didn't make it to State Fair.

When the Mom picked the Daughter up at the barn after the County Fair, the Daughter sobbed, telling her Mom how hard she and Charlie had worked and how much she had wanted them to be chosen for State Fair.  Life hit hard for a twelve year old and it about broke the Mom's heart.

The Daughter's legs were now hanging down below Charlie's stomach.  The Mom and Dad talked to the Daughter about finding a larger horse.  The Daughter agreed but she was hesitant to leave her beloved friend, Charlie.

The Mom and Dad took the Daughter to see a horse.  He was a Paint and his name was Want My Autograph (Champ).  He had the talents to become a show horse.  The Daughter rode him and shortly therafter the Paint was purchased. 

Charlie went home where he enjoyed being the boss of everything in sight.  But the family knew that Charlie needed a new home where he could make someone else as happy as he had made the Daughter.  He was sold to a family who had a little girl who used him as a trail horse.  The Mom checked on Charlie after he was sold to find that the new family loved him and that Charlie was much happier being a trail horse then he'd been as a show horse. 

The Daughter worked hard with Champ, just as she had with Charlie.  They participated in some APHA shows and even went to Canada. 

But the Daughter missed her friends in 4H.  In her Junior year of high school, seven years after she'd told the Mom and the Dad that she wanted to ride horses, she returned to 4H.  She rode Champ at County Fair and this time she made it to State Fair! 

But it didn't seem to hold the same meaning as it did when she was ten years old.  The Daughter was growing up.  After the State Fair she quit riding to concentrate on getting ready for College and the life of "growing up". 

One day, the Mom and the Daughter were driving in the car when the Kenny Chesney song, "Who'd You Be Today", came on the radio.  The Daughter told the Mom that the song made her think about Charlie and she talked to the Mom about how much she still missed him.

The Mom contacted the family who owned Charlie, asking them if they'd consider selling him back but they declined.  In some way the Mom had thought if she could bring Charlie back that her little girl would also come back. 

The Daughter graduated from High School with Honors and headed off to College.  She became a lovely, intelligent women, with a special quality for compassion and seeing both sides of a situation.  The Mom and Dad are proud of the Daughter and believe that the family's time together with horses contributed to how special she has become.

Today at almost twenty years of age, ten years after she came to the Mom and Dad and said she wanted to ride horses, the Daughter's bedroom is empty most of the year, unless she is home from College (and then it's very messy).  :)   Throughout the years this picture of the Daughter and Charlie with their first ribbon at their first horse show, still hangs on the Daughter's bedroom wall. 

Charlie will never be forgotten.

Round Two of Confidence Building

As most of you know, I'm currently struggling to regain the confidence I worked so hard for and then lost as a result of being an absent rider.  YES!  MY FAULT!  I'm paying the price for my choices during this winter.  And indeed Clinton Anderson's article in February's Horse and Rider Magazine hits home real hard.

My last lesson started with the ground work that I'd been doing every day for a week.  I had noted positive results in the seven consistent days I'd been working with Champ - a new respect towards me but still some issues. 

Most of our issues center around when I ask Champ to reverse directions on the lunge line.  He'll change direction but then turns his head towards me and with teeth bared and ears pinned back, he seems to sneer at me.  He'll shake his head and either break into bucks or settle down until I reverse him, and then we'll go through it all over again.

On one of our reverses this day, he did his sneer deal and then broke into full rodeo mode.  He pulled away from me so hard I lost the lunge line.  As the rope burned through my hands I was glad I'd put on my leather gloves, but now I had a loose horse running around the arena.

Thankfully nobody else was in there riding.  I was grateful for Hero Trainer, who had been standing nearby.  Her advice was, "Let him run, let him learn the consequences of his decision."  She headed to the other end of the arena to ensure he kept moving.

Off Champ went around the arena at mach speeds, lead line between his front legs, flailing out between his back legs, sometimes stepping on it and jerking the rope halter.  Ugh! 

Numerous times he sighted me across the arena, penned his ears flat back and headed towards me at a full speed.  A Knight at the King's Court would love a horse like that!  As for me?  I stood my ground, pretended I was 8'3" instead of 5'3", 20 years of age instead of 50+, and just like Clint Eastwood in Dirty Harry, I used my stick in a way that said, "Go ahead Punk, make my day!"  And with that stance, each time Champ got close he veered away from me. 

It seemed that this show went on forever.  It was definitely a good 15 minutes until Champ stopped in the middle of the arena, sideways between Hero Trainer and me, each at our respective ends.  Hero Trainer laughed and said, "Let's see which one of us he chooses."

Champ stood there panting and then he looked at me.  He came to me at a slow lope with his ears pricked, like he was asking for help.  Yet I still played the role of Dirty Harry, unsure of what would happen. 

He circled around at a slow lope as if he was on a lunge line.  Hero Trainer chuckled that it appeared he now preferred being back where he'd left me.  However, I was told to keep him going until he asked my permission to slow down. 

Eventually the licking/chewing started and then, taking a few moments, but not immediately, I verbally requested (in a calm voice) that he change to a trot (Champ knows voice commends for Trot and Ease (I chose Ease for Walk because Walk sounds too much like Whoa) and of course, Whoa means stop). 

He was now fully intent on me.  Down he went to a trot and then when directed to the ease (walk) command.  I put him back up to the trot and back down to the ease in both directions numerous times before I verbally requested he whoa.

He was now as humble as he was lathered and panting.  I scratched his head with my stick as I'd seen done and then walked him out some more in different directions.  Hero Trainer suggested I get on and walk him out to cool him off. 

Up I went without an ounce of nerves, (knowing there wasn't much left in Champ to threaten me).  We walked around and then I asked if Hero Trainer would open the gate and let us out of the arena so we could go outside where it was nice and sunny.  So off we went, on a low key ride around the property, just the two of us. 

It was heaven!  It took me back to the days of my rides with my old buddy Barnie.  I could have cried for the partnership I was feeling with this horse, who only thirty minutes ago was charging at me with flattened ears and teeth bared.

As I recalled my rides with Barnie, I thought about Champ's times at home with us in the pasture, always the lowest horse in the pecking order, the one always getting beat up.  Could it be that this guy doesn't know how to deal with being the Leader?  I realized that here is a horse who is looking for his Leader and that is ME!  I felt a new compassion towards this huge red Paint.

Since that experience there seems to be a bond that has been set between us.  He is anxiously waiting at his stall door when I arrive, he must recognize my voice.  There is a peace between us as we walk the property together after our ground work.

Yet when I'm out there by myself, I'm afraid to climb on and ride.  I'm uncomfortable being out there alone.  This is a demon I must face just as I did when I first rode Barnie.  But unlike Barnie, although I've witnessed positive results, I'm still not sold that Champ and I are finished with our issues.  I'll stay on task with the ground work, worried that if I stop we'll backslide. 

And as I did many years ago, noted in one of my earlier posts, "One Step at a Time", I'll count time as my friend, to help me build confidence each time I work with Champ and this in turn will give me the confidence to get back up and ride out there by myself. 

Sounds pretty simple, but it isn't.  But one thing is for sure, you can count me in as sold on the concept of ground work.  :)

Stuck in the Saddle

I'm lucky to board Champ at a barn that has the most diverse but amazing boarders.  There is a special kin-ship amongst us.  We help and look out for each other and our horses.  We encourage each other. 

Yet we are very different in our disciplines of riding.  For instance, many of my barn pals are Dressage riders.  They are very neat and tidy.  Their tack is spotless, their personal attire is well kept and their horses are the same.  I've watched them ride and I equate their discipline to ballet, very beautiful and moving.  Maybe someday I can learn how to ride like that.

I'm currently a Western Pleasure/Trail rider.  My tack is kinda dusty.  I'm usually dressed in my Lady Wranglers and my University of Puget Sound sweatshirt, compliments of the school our daughter attends.  And my horse...well, thankfully he isn't light colored.

On a recent visit to the barn, I shared my reservation in riding Champ with one of my Dressage barn pals as I went to saddle him up.  Being a true buddy, she hopped right in to help me.

She (kindly) looked me up and down and told me I needed half-chaps.  She said I'd stay on better if I had some security in my legs.  She then produced a pair from her well organized tack box and told me to stick out my legs as she zipped them up over my jeans.  The soft leather felt lovely and my legs started feeling toasty warm.  Ummm, I could get used to that.

She then ran her hand over my new western saddle and pronounced the seat slippery.  She headed to the tack room and returned with a spray can.  She told me that the spray would make my saddle sticky.  She proceeded to liberally spray the seat and fenders of my saddle with this fluid, assuring me that there was no way that Champ would be able to toss me off.

I was so touched that she took the effort to make sure I'd have a good ride.  Off Champ and I went, me in my borrowed half-chaps and sticky saddle, to have our ride.

The first thing I found when I climbed on was that I was literally stuck in the saddle.  I realized that if anything did go wrong, I had no option to get off, I wasn't going anywhere.  The next thing I realized was that the half-chaps, for as warm and comfy as they were, felt like huge cotton wads against Champ's side.  My leg aids were muffled for a better word.

I took my ride on Champ and as I rode I started contemplating how in the world I was going to get off.  When the time came to dismount, I had a hard time swinging my leg over Champ's rear.  I then found myself literally stuck to the side of the saddle. 

I recall being on the side of the saddle, holding both of my arms out away from me and still sticking there.  Wow I thought, this is really free-form!  I recall Champ turning his head back to see what in the world was going on.  I finally released myself but almost took the saddle with me (sorry about that Champ)!

After Champ was back in his stall and the half-chaps were returned, my husband and I headed to the grocery store.  I climbed into our truck which has leather seats and found myself stuck to the seat. 

At the grocery store I wiggled and bumped to get out of the truck.  Walking through the store I could feel the legs of my jeans sticking to each other, not to mention cheeks (that are not on the face)! 

Yes, our barn has awesome boarders.  We help each other out and please don't think I'm not touched by my neighbor's generosity, because I am!  I loved wearing the half-chaps.  I eventually found my leg aids and my legs were warm and toasty.  I'm planning on getting a pair.

But as for the sticky spray, although I don't think I've ever ridden so securely, next time I think I'll pass.  :)

+/- Confidence

I've learned a hard lesson.  When you are older and ride, your confidence must be continually nurtured to retain it's high level. 

Trying to get back into the swing of things after the holidays has been difficult.  Last week I woke up on the morning of my lesson and that old familiar feeling of dread was with me.  I came up with numerous excuses to NOT go out and ride, worried about what 'mood' my horse would be in.

Recently Champ has been plain nasty.  My barn pals tell me all the horses are fresh, but Champ's behavior outshines them all.  Bucking, nipping, kicking, you name it.  Being around Champ recently has not been any fun.  I'm afraid to ride him, I'm afraid I'm going to get hurt.

I got myself so worked up before my lesson that when I brought Champ into the arena to greet Hero Trainer, it was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears.  In a choking voice I told Hero Trainer how I mourn the loss of my hard-won/yet fun-won confidence, coupled with the fresh loss of Cisco who I could always count on to help me rebuild any doubtful times. 

She has seen how nasty Champ can be and she listened quietly while I got it all out of my system.  I was an absolute emotional mess, standing there next to Champ, barely able to breath because I was so choked up with emotion and fear.

Hero Trainer was kind but she was also direct - something I appreciate about her.  She told me that Champ is the type of horse that you can't peg on any day.  You will never know what you are going to get when you come to ride him.  She told me I need to be prepared for anything when I ride and she suggested that perhaps he isn't the right horse for me. 

That was hard to swallow.  I explained how he was our 'family horse' who we'd had for over seven years.  How we'd invested not only money, but so many emotions into him and our daughter's riding career.  I just didn't know how we'd part with something that was so much a part of us and was doubtful my family would even consider it.

Hero Rider responded very simply with straight talk.  If I am to continue to ride Champ, something must immediately change. 

She brought up what I already knew - you can't build your confidence if you aren't out there with your horse, and I've been very absent.

She suggested I introduce ground work to our routine noting there is an issue regarding respect.  She said I need to be out with Champ every day, now that I'm retired and have the time, and she warned me if I was to continue down this road that she will be holding my feet to the fire. 

So her expectactions were simple;  (1) Show up every day; (2) Utilize ground work every day; (3) Ride at least four times every week (noting commitments, etc., that may come up) and even if it's a short ride, RIDE.

Back at home I grabbed my pile of Horse and Rider Magazines and found I have all the copies of the sequential articles from Clinton Anderson regarding Lunging for Respect.

I found my 'stick' in the tack room, grabbed my leather gloves and lunge line.  And starting the following day and every day since for seven days now, I am proceeding down the road of becoming Champ's leader and gaining his full respect.

I've always felt part of the joy of being around horses is that there's always something more to learn.  In this case, I'm errant in not bringing ground work into our routine prior to this and I'm now paying that price.

My first few days were pretty wild and we still encounter some rodeo on the lunge line.  BUT I'm encouraged to see a positive change in our relationship with me now coming out as the leader.  No more nipping, kicking, head bumping.  Champ now stands quietly at the cross ties and respects my space at all times.  The 'gleam' in his eyes is still there when we start, but it's leaving quicker every day and the licking/chewing is replacing it.

I'm off for my first lesson since I had my melt down last week.  I feel better today about going out to ride and am actually looking forward to my interaction with Champ and Hero Trainer.  My confidence is higher from seven days of ground work.

I'll report out on my next blog how things went.  But leave with you with these thoughts because if you are like me and have lost your confidence but still have that need to ride perhaps they may be helpful:

I must earn my right back to a great ride and this is how I'm achieving it, through respect via consistant ground work. 

The return in my investment of this time will be a better behaved horse (already is after 7 days) who looks to me as his leader - and that equals a higher level of confidence for me.

:)

Come Visit My New Workplace!

Now that I've retired and started my part-time job from home, I have an office in the tackroom of our barn.

Here's my new commute to work:

Here's my new commute home:

Instead of formal pictures on the walls of my office, I have an array of "hangings".

I call it Equine Art.

But the best part of my new office is the view from outside my window:

And while I was writing this, I looked up to see someone watching me.

It's nice to have friends at work!

Should Have, Could Have, Would Have

I'm still reeling from the sudden loss of Cisco this last Tuesday night.  Our vet and many friends have told me that there have been a high number of colics this year.  The understanding responses of my fellow bloggers have been greatly appreciated.  Thank you all, you have no idea how much it means to me to hear from you.

After Cisco was out of his pain and everybody had left, we headed into our house to try to gather what threads we could of the evening.  We heard the coyotes out in the field next to where his body waited to be picked up the following day.  I worried the coyotes would disturb him so I grabbed my husband's 30-30, my hat/gloves and heavy coat.  NOBODY was going to mess with my horse.

Leaving my dog Hank behind cuz I'd already lost one loved one that night and didn't want to take any chances on losing another to coyotes, I left him (unhappily) inside.  My husband didn't offer to come with me.  I was grateful that he understood I needed to do this alone.

Heading out to the barn I turned the radio up full blast on my favorite country/western station.  I lit up the barn with every light inside and out.  I drug my favorite seat in the barn, the mounting block, out next to the blue tarp that covered my little Confidence Booster Horse, now removed from his pain. 

I sat there holding vigil to the blue tarp.  I wasn't alone.  The neighbor's Anatolian Sheppard, Trika, joined me shortly after I sat down.  Our dog Hank's best friend, Trika is also a friend to all of our horses and protects my family as if we were her own. 

It's not uncommon to see her out in the field sleeping next to the horses or on our covered front porch.  We are all part of her pack and it was her barking that had warned us about the approaching coyotes this evening. 

As I sat there Trika leaned against my legs.  Her fury coat kept me warm while I tried to absorb the shock of the evening.  I absently petted her while I cried at sad songs and smiled at others, remembering my times with Cisco. 

It seemed that she understood my sadness and leaned in closer to me.  I could sense she was also sad, as were the other horses, standing watch by the fence.  Sunny, our rescue Belgian and Cisco's best buddy had such a sadness in his eyes, it almost broke my heart.  Gus, a younger Belgian was confused. 

There we spent many hours, me and my rifle, the neighbor's dog, and my two remaining horses.  While we sat there I thought over and over about what I could have done to prevent this. 

I thought about my day and how ordinary it had been until evening feeding time.  My husband had gone out as usual to feed in the morning.  As I do every morning, I asked him from the comfort of the warm bed (usually it's 5AM and I'm not up yet cuz I'm officially retired and frankly unless the house burns down, I'm NOT getting up that early anymore) "How are the boys?"   He responded, as usual that all was well.

I had glanced out the window that morning to see the horses all out grazing in pouring down rain.  Nothing unusual.  Our daughter, home on college break, and I had left for a lunch date, I'd returned and headed up to the barn to see Champ.  I'd come home and had gone to do the nightly feeding.  That is when I'd found Cisco in the stages of colic.

I realize we all can't be home to spot check our horses.  I realize that some of us only get to see our horses in the daylight hours, and I realize being newly retired that I'm lucky to have the luxury to see them all day long.  So why hadn't I taken advantage of that?  I kept thinking if I had checked them during the day and not taken it for granted, perhaps this story would have ended better. 

I should have not taken for granted that all was well and checked on the horses more often.  I could have possibly saved Cisco if I'd noticed earlier in the day that he was ill.  I would have had the vet out much quicker and in the very least, saved him from suffering.

Should have, could have, would have.  As I sat there with all the animals around me, next to that blue tarp, I made a pact with myself that I would never take it for granted that all was well in the pasture.

I can only do what I can do and I won't beat myself up for what has already happened because it's a moot point now.  But I can incorporate a small, tiny task into my daily routine that might make a difference.

Where the heavens had cleared and stars had accompanied Cisco as he left us, around 2AM it started to pour down rain.  No sign of coyotes for many hours prompted me to head into the house, knowing the blue tarp was just across the barn yard from our bedroom window.

Before I left I kissed all of my animal friends holding vigil with me.  I told them I loved them and thanked them for being with me those long hours.  I was the only one in the group to leave, the rest remained as they'd been.

Didn't sleep much that night and was up at daybreak, a warm bed and retirement the last thing in my mind that morning.  When I looked out the bedroom window to check on the blue tarp, this is what I found:

Trika had stayed on guard all night long next to her friend.  She remained there until they came and removed Cisco.  Then slowly with her tail low, she walked away.

A Sad Day

Yesterday, because it's after midnight, actually closer to 3AM has been terrible.  But I need to write this because my boy, my Cisco, is gone, downed by colic earlier this evening.

Cisco came to me almost three years ago.  Hero Rider suggested I purchase him to boost my confidence.  He didn't cost much.  He was already 20 years old and had a crooked lower jaw.  Not much to look at I guess.

But he knew his job and he did it well.  He came to me from Eastern Washington, in the area that grew apples.  He hated apples, guess he had enough of them from whence he came.

Cisco could sit idle for a year and yet one could climb on him and he was right there with you, ready to do whatever you asked.  What a gem of a horse!

True he was the little Sargent in the pasture, bossing around everybody else.  But he did it kindly.  And last summer, when a Tornado touched down about 4 miles from our place, it was Cisco who hustled our older Belgian, Sunny into the loafing shed for protection multiple times that day.

I'll always think of Sunny and Cisco, standing at the end of our back pasture, a BIG Belgian standing next to a small Quarter Horse, both of them watching the neighbor's chickens for hours.


It has been raining here for days.  Yet, as Cisco went to leave us tonight the sky cleared and you could see the stars. 

I told him that he was free to go and join the herd of horses in heaven that includes Bosc and Sunshine.  I told him that he could now eat all the grain he ever wanted and run free as the wind. 

And I thanked him for the gift he gave me, confidence to ride.