J and I headed for the starting area a little late and Scrappy stood politely at a kindly stranger’s offered mounting block and off we walked, with impulsion but still operating in Dr. Jekyll mode. Despite being a bit late there were a couple of horses visible heading out into the flat open spaces and a couple more getting on trail behind us. If you hear increasingly loud whispers of trouble!  in your head when you read that last sentence, you probably know where this story is headed and may well have been there/done that yourself.

I do believe that he continued his bold polite walk for all 3 steps after crossing the official start line. Bold walk became shuffling trot which turned into excited surge, stepballchange, canter in place, stepballchange, undetermined gait sideways, then everyone’s favorite Jot (jig trot!)–wait hey, there’s a buck! No rearing to be had since we had lateral control and I was already serpentine-ing and half halting, to no avail.  I can really speed up this ride story right now if I tell you that Scrappy and I did some version of that, plus circling and hand walking (and a lot of swearing) for the next 27 miles straight. If you’re surprised there’s still a few decent trail photos (or that I managed to eat or drink anything), let me assure you that only my years as a multitasking-to-survive trail guide allowed me to. The Dr. was out, Mr. Hyde was in residence,  and the little human on board was effectually relegated to nonessential annoying accouterment.

The loop was every inch of 27 miles as promised and I was feeling it by the time we were climbing back up into camp (just one short steep hill, more of those would have been useful!). Scrappy hadn’t flagged even a little bit and somewhere deep down a small part of me was impressed at his fitness. But mostly just extra, super, extraordinarily irritated. No one likes their horse checking out on them for even 1 mile let alone an entire LD distance, and I was concerned about how quickly he was moving as he rarely exhibits a power trot at home, let alone for MILES. We do train at the canter so I threw some of that in to try to switch up/save his muscles, as well as hand walking when able. I had a new problem of somehow jamming my right big toe so painfully riding the Scrappy rocket that I wasn’t all that able to walk very far at a time, actually, which was a lovely bonus. In the saddle I was focusing on switching diagonals and not curling into a defensive ball as he roared along (yes, he was THAT strong, I know my friends who ride with sleepy Scrappy at home are like whaaaa, really?).

Despite his frisky fresh performance and nearly dragging me into camp, Scrappy pulsed in immediately in the 40s and after drinking and a few hay bites we vetted in with the same vet as the day before. I cued him up for our trot out expecting something at the very least decent, after all I’d just about died riding his rather impressive power trot for nearly 30 miles and his vet in trot had been lovely–but what I got was the sound of Scrappy apparently falling over himself (I was being good and not looking at him but I sure heard it!), recovering, and then trotting out NQR. Not lame, but NQR, something about the left front or hind maybe, the vet thought. I felt his rump under the cooler and immediately felt how knotted tight his power trotting muscles were. It was subtle enough in gait that the vet said continuing was up to me and to come back at the end of the hold if I wanted a peace of mind recheck, but I knew right then and there that I was going to Rider Option pull us. In the same instant I knew that it would be a bad training decision, as Scrappy was essentially a raging shite for an LD and then would get to quit, but my gut told me that physically the risk wasn’t worth it. With his complete lack of brain, my terrorized hands and foot, 28 miles of the same flat open terrain to go and a week long rain storm rolling in that night, I felt no need or desire to push a NQR to something else in search of a training win. Feeling the knots in his hindquarter muscles, shaking my head, I handed in my vet card that read all 40s pulses and all As, untacked, and that was that.

So what went “wrong” you ask? Let’s recap:

1.Scrappy now has around 400 AERC miles (made up of LDs,50s, and 1 100) with a variety of riders (3 different people competed on him previous to my purchase) and has gotten some sort of (inconsistent) notion about what this “trot for a while, get checked, do some more” thing is all about

2. Scrappy is on his 3rd year of a few rides and lots of LSD miles, so he’s pretty darn fit despite his sleepy cow eyed exterior

3. Aurora needs to stop thinking that because Scrappy is quiet for conditioning and used to be quiet on the first few e-rides we did, he’ll be that way again. That is, I DID attempt to do my homework over summer, working on control, proper body and bit carriage, **but all that jazz done by yourself or with one friend just doesn’t translate to the herd on trail scenario.**

4.Snaffle bits are for home training (for now) and merrily starting the ride in any sort of group, or even with a partner, is a bad idea (for now). Scrappy had a combination of buddy sour and camp sour going on mentally it seemed. Even when trotting with J and Shiner he bugled back to camp..lol.

5.*everybody now!*  Aurora needs to wear gloves!

 So there you have it. Best laid plans gone awry and a totally different outcome than what we’d trained and planned all summer for, but lessons learned and horse and human returned home in overall good health which, in this crazy game of life and endurance, is something to give thanks for indeed.

Regroup, retry! See you on the AERC trails in 2015.

20 or so minutes later, looking like something I might actually want to ride! 

she does this 3-4 morning a week.. 

Off to do property rounds and make sure all’s well for the rain. Hope everyone is enjoying their November!

Tis the season for new horses arriving at barns near and far. It may not be Christmas by the calendar but by horse lover reckoning, autumn seems to be the Time of the New Horse. I myself have been there a number of times, though my last few equines have come home earlier in the year for whatever reason. As I congratulated friends near and far on their various new horsey projects in the last few weeks, I was struck at how completely thrilled I was with the herd in my own field–and then, because I have 2 Arabian fillies, I got to experience the thrill of a “new horse” without adding another to my field.

I recounted Rory’s Great Escape in my last post, an episode that left me certain that 1. I better pay closer attention and 2. the fillies needed to be split up for everyone’s mental health. Now don’t get me wrong, they could have carried on living in the same pasture well enough, but since I have the luxury of a herd-let sprinkled around separate quarters, switching up pasture mates is totally doable and part of my filly training strategy. It was my opinion that Rory’s precocious disregard for What’s Done (i.e follow human politely for mash, not make headlong dash for freedom–and traffic) could use a healthy dose of Desire disapproval, while Sheza princess didn’t need to get any bad ideas from her little brown step sister.  Fortunately the weather cooperated with my idea of a herd shuffle right about then, sending a massively windy and rainy 24 hours last weekend that the herd spent in their stalls in the barn.

As a quick aside, this is also the time of year where blanketing/stabling debates rage, so briefly my position is this: we don’t get enough snow here for me to have experience or a policy on it. If it’s just non-windy rain, non-growing horses get rain sheets (maybe counter intuitive except that the foals always have shed access and trying to keep growing foals in blankets is ridiculous). If it’s rain+wind then they all go in their stalls in the barn, period. Sure it’s not natural and they’re bred to tough it out, yada yada. I don’t mind telling you that my human environment controlled and fenced horses aren’t living “natural in the wild” so I’ve made some adjustments there regarding care-in-weather. Plus I just don’t get any sleep with the buggers out in the rain and if I didn’t use my big beautiful stalls occasionally I think my husband would start moving in machinery..

Anyway, the wind came in strong with dark clouds in hot pursuit last Saturday and the herd got their marching orders for the stalls. Come morning the skies had cleared and Napoleon mini horse and Arabians large and small were ready to stretch their legs. Once freed, Scrappy, Sheza, and Napoleon found themselves on one side of the property while Rory rejoined step-momma Desire and Blaze on the house side of the property. Sheza cared not a bit for the reshuffle, while Rory was quite perturbed for her, which meant she trotted around slowly for 10 minutes then called every half hour or so throughout the day. I kept a wary eye on her fence jumping self that day but was reassured by the sharp click of my hot box every time I passed.

 One thing I’ve particularly noticed in my Arabian herd shuffling practices is how much the younger horses try on other’s attitudes when they are pasture/fence line mates. Sheza for example, is extra blowy and dramatic when around her mother who has the same personality (minus the unquestioned trust). When pastured by Blaze, Sheza is by contrast suddenly quieter and steadier. When I brought Scrappy home and began shuffling him around too I noticed that both Sheza acted steadier pastured next to him while Scrappy took on some of her snorty and blowy spice, something he *never* exhibited on his own/next to the older horses. Rory and Sheza running together the last few months have had an exuberant air to them as only 2 baby Arabians can, so a few days after the shuffle when I had a moment to hang with Sheza in pasture I was alarmed at her quiet, steady approach to me. She immediately came to me but it was at a walk,  her gaze slightly averted, and she stopped a few feet away and stood completely quiet. Her projected energy couldn’t have been more opposite of the YEEHAW BUCKAROO sliding stop greetings I’d been receiving, and my reaction went something like this:

“What? You’re Walking up? Stopping quietly??! Not mauling me? Are you dying?!!”

I’d just seen her doing various healthy horse things (eating, drinking pooping) so I didn’t think she could be too poorly, and my brain bumped over to the fact that she was now living with Senor Napoleon and next to Scrappy. The cool kids. They Who Shall Not Be Rushed. Sure enough at feeding time she was bright eyed and headed for the manger, but at a steady walk, none of this filly galloping stuff. She has remained Sheza Cool Customer, friendly but not *too eager,* mind.

And so 2 Auroras, a fly spray bottle, and a dressage pad went down to the round pen and stayed there for a solid 2 hours. At the end, we were definitely NOT over the spray bottle issue, we’d merely established a building block. I’d shaken and sprayed my way through 6 fillings of the spray bottle (filled with water, mind you)– I’d also been bitten, but she was decidedly the more sweaty.

What was the dressage pad for? To pique her interest, mostly. Rory is nosy and has an oral fixation, she just isn’t a spooky type aside from the spray bottle, so I figured one way or the other she’d want to mess with that saddle pad, and that saddle pad therefore became part of my world, the world of spray bottles. It was a world that I was perfectly happy for her to inhabit with me, if she was content to hang out with my swishing spray bottle. If not, that was fine too, I’d just calmly keep swishing and spraying and she’d keep expressing her disbelief and and annoyance in feet movement until she wore down again.  I figured there was no point trying to get the actual spray on her until she was comfortable with the noise first, which she clearly wasn’t, so I was noisy as I could be, shaking and spraying the bottle constantly. The moment her attention came in to me and she stopped I’d stop the bottle and go quiet. She quickly recognized that was the reward, so immediately started testing what if she halfway committed to stopping, or rushed at me to stop , or what if she just stopped over here far away not looking at me, wouldn’t that make the swishing stop? Nope, the swishing/shaking only stopped when she stopped and politely checked in facing me, and each time she’d accept me slowly moving around her a little farther and a little closer, just spraying and shaking the bottle, not even necessarily pointed at her. True to Aurora form she stubbornly insisted she knew best for a good long while, then gradually began accepting that my world, the place of hanging out, relaxed, with that intriguing saddle pad on the ground, with my magic itchy fingers, and with this annoying swishing sidekick was kinda the place she sorta wanted to be.

 A big storm rolled in the next day or I would have done another round pen session right away. The ground is completely soaked and unsafe for the next few days now but as soon as it’s tractable Rory and I will be back in the round pen with our bottle; I doubt it will take more than a few sessions like this to get her over the issue but this little gal has surprised me before!

post storm sunrise

abstract caliber pumpkin carving 😉  the chickens appreciated it 

Hope you’re all staying safe and warm out there, and enjoying your horses new and old!

If you’ve tuned in before, you may have done some reading on my thoughts regarding the risks of assumptions with horses.  Of course, I’m so cleverly human that I can write a long cogent blog post on the issue and then completely disregard my own advice and thoughts and be freshly surprised at the shenanigans of horses thought to be Something They Maybe Aren’t (Yet?).

 As Rory gained weight, shed out, and generally came into her own over the next few months, I found her detachment from humans still a bit head-tilting, but was *thrilled* with her steady, non dramatic approach to, well, everything. Sheza has put me through the OhMyStarsICouldn’tPossibly! Show on catching, haltering, feet handling, haltering, hoof trimming, bathing, haltering, tying, blankets, the list goes on (and yes she really did revert to un-catchable that many times in her wee youth). The resistance doesn’t necessarily run deep in her, but the Show is *always* there, and learning how to buy a ticket for the ride but not react back and jump off in fear/frustration has been a truly invaluable learning experience for me over the last few years.