Added..

Threw a couple more blogs on my "Suggested Reading" list to the right of this page. I'd check them out and follow 'em, had I not already.

Notes on the herd and my rides

I apologize, to the handful of you who read, for a decidedly long hiatus between posts here. Though I have been no less busy with horse-related things, those horse-related things tended to be work-related things. And I haven't been in a mindset to write, particularly, in part due to personal matters and the loss of my great Dad. That aside, I think it's time to catch up a bit.

Pax

I took the Very Large Filly on a walk the other day. I'm relatively certain that Taking Your Horse For a Walk doesn't make it into a lot of training books, but when I'm not close to being ready to get on her and not in the mood to long line or lunge, it is a nice way to get her mind out of the herd and onto her two-legged "mom." She was nervous, but mindful at the get-go, but I admire the fact that her nerves rarely manifest themselves into action. She is observant, rarely hesitant, and almost never flighty.. Except for when I started making a racket with my dressage whip in the tall pampas grass. That resulted in minor fireworks for a few minutes.

Satan's lair.

Anyhow, after we'd established that the pampas grass could be added to the "rather alarming but not malicious" list, Pax and I headed out the gate and down to the river crossing for our first swimming attempt. She is one of a handful of horses who tend to try and bathe in the elevated water troughs in the pasture, so I had high hopes— and was not disappointed. With just one sniff at the wide expanse of river and a pause to allow me to hike my shorts up and pull my boots on tighter (classy, yes) we stepped graciously in and waded around to both our chests' deep of the drink. She snuffled and played but remained a lady, and I acquired some brilliant blisters walking all the way back to the barn in sodden cowboy boots and swimwear. We stopped at a few spots on the way back to lunge on a shortened line and get back into "work, not rush home" mode, and she wasn't even pulling for the gate when we made it back in site of the equestrian center. Overall, I am proud of her. If I may have a moment to brag, she is growing up gorgeous. Very few PMU-mutts can ever pass the A+ confirmation test, and she certainly does not, but she is maturing into a balanced and graceful mare and I can't wait to see where things go in the next two years. My mom and I have discussed sending her to a proper trainer to get started. I've never done that before, but also only started one horse by myself under saddle.. and as she has been a bit of an investment, and I would like her to be worthy for low-level competition, it would be worth paying for sixty days of professional work. But that's a long way off. No reason to start her before fall 2012, if even then. June 1st will be her second birthday!

The Princess herself. Need to think of a good proper name for her soon.

Indigo

Tiff, a good friend and one of the part-time camp wranglers, started looking into a BLM horse seriously last week and I got to thinking about our little pinto 'stang boy sitting out in the pasture enjoying life and being lazy, and/or trying to hump a mare or two. (He's cut. I promise.) So I rigged up the borrowed surcingle over a western saddle, attached long lines after a little warm-up, figured ourselves out again in the round pen, and took the fellow driving around camp. He was great! A little bit of a gaffufle to get started, when we initially started moving away from our comfort zone of the equestrian center. We polished our "woah" and walk/trotted using voice cues, and I am able to cut back on the noise motivation from the stock whip I carry. I rarely if ever have to touch him with it, but he's lazy enough to wait for the threatening sound before moving off. But putting him in a new position and having to be the physical leader, while directing from behind, put Indy back on his toes and I got a nice little jog out of him through the kickball fields and down by the river. He is taking a while to truly soften to the bit, but he does accept it and bridles like a real boy now. His woah is good with contact, but it wasn't until this lesson that I felt him anticipate the sound a bit. I can't wait to get on him more this summer! And more mustangs for camp, with proper time and training, I think will be an excellent idea, especially in our aging herd. I wouldn't risk the online auction thing, but the drive to Colorado to really evaluate temperament and soundness was worth it. I think our product is shaping up wonderfully.

Tranquil stop by the Guad.

El Bandito

As for my grouchy old man, I was hoping to squeeze in another lesson with Sally in Fredericksburg before the craziness of summer cuts off all possibilities, but it looks like she may be out-of-state for quite some time. Her family is relocating away from the Hill Country, so I knew our time with her would be short, albeit a great blessing and hopefully the right way to shift focus with Bandit. I've gotten to spend time with some of the Waldemar polocrosse ladies on a couple of afternoons (one of our best camp horses was donated through that club, more or less) and caught the name of another woman who teaches dressage just outside of Kerrville. The price is a bit more, unsurprisingly as we were scoring an awesome deal minus the diesel cost, but the facility sounds fantastic. I haven't ridden in an indoor arena since sneaking into my university's rodeo arena to ride a handful of times. I haven't ridden with mirrors since I was about eleven. I am utterly excited.

Last week I made an attempt at doing some more "dressage homework," as Sally put it, but ended up getting distracted and going over the tiny jumps Dick and I put together for the kiddos. I have not asked Bandit to jump a thing, minus trail obstacles, since I was about fifteen and into our brief Parelli phase.. which involved alot of the at-liberty lunging over barrels. He was pretty good at that, I think mainly because he is scared of the color white (which encompasses a wide gamut of objects, let me tell you.) But after a couple of shady go-arounds and blasting our way through trot poles trying to snatch at the bit, we did some successful little bounces and, if I dare say so, I think the old man enjoyed the change-up. That said, tomorrow I plan on getting down to business and aiming for a degree of respectability at next week's lesson. It's at, like.. a fancy place. As in, I may wear a clean shirt. With a collar. Gasp.

Putting Little Sister Pax in her place. Height is no object.

A note on his bridle— having not been terribly impressed with the Dr. Cook's on a trail ride where I (stupidly) decided to go for a gallop with a friend on a similarly hot horse, and not having particularly measurable success getting Bandit on the "bit" (in the bridle?) without an actual bit.. We had a random breakthrough last weekend. I switched to Bandito after riding a super-solid but slightly slow lease horse for a group trail ride. I always ride him in the Dr. Cook's for those easy rides, as he is cucumber cool for the most part and I see advantages in switching things up with him between his various mild headgear. I don't ask for much, but usually try to get a little practice in every ride.. and from somewhere, things clicked, and I had a lovely, soft, round horse taking contact from my reins and going on about as nicely as Bandit will go. I won't be switching to the Cook's bitless for lessons, but maybe for more of our homework.

Rue

Why is The Fattest Pony In The West on this list? Well.. I have been cajoled? Convinced? By a friend or two to give polocrosse a try next fall when practices kick up again. As I see a temporary but extremely disappointing moratorium happening on my NATRC rides, thanks to an already packed schedule of weekend camp events through 2012, attending the polocrosse practices and kicking about at a new sport would keep me in a mix of horsey people and give me something new to learn. Let me assure you that at this point, I would much rather be charging along at a competitive trail ride.. But have to made allowances somewhere. Job is important and I am lucky to have it. Waldemar donated three used but quality Australian saddles to my riding program here at CFA, and I plunked down some cash to rig them out and see what I can learn. I don't think Bandit will ever be steady enough with flying balls and sticks, Indigo isn't old enough, and obese Rue needs a job. She is young, bombproof, capable of moving her fat little arse when she needs to, and plucky.. And very low to the ground, so my lanky, uncoordinated self can have a better shot at getting the darn ball off the dirt. I just.. y'know.. Look a little ridiculous on her. And she is a little ridiculous looking on top of that.

This angle does her too much justice. You can't see the hay gut.

Anyway, I don't even have a proper stick to use yet, so have mainly been conditioning her. Which turns out to be more of a commitment than I had anticipated— we trotted halfway up Mt. Vesper on the rocky hillside road, and literally had to stop. She wasn't being witchy or balky. She physically was worn out. Took it much easier the rest of the day, but I realize that she won't be in any fair condition until summer is on its way and I can alternate riding her and a couple of other horses. She has developed a rather hard mouth and opinionated way of going, but I think some consistency and a nice change to an o-ring snaffle will clean that up.

"Really, woman. I'm done now."

I leave you with this charming buttshot of The Cool Kids in the herd. Mind you, there are five round bales for our thirty horses, which averages out to six or less horses per bale if you account for those resting or watering themselves. There are twelve below, all the top dogs of the pasture, all determined to sit at the cool table in the cafeteria.

From far left to right: Peppy, Sunny, Hannah, Rue, Pax, Pumbaa, Indigo, Whiskers, Tango, Bonnie (hidden,) Marquee, and JB (also hidden.)

There are only two emotions that belong in the saddle.

One is a sense of humor, and the other is patience.

— John Lyons