We’re Fixed

This could be a very short post, because the title says it all. We’re fixed. 

Tumbleweed made a liar out of me and proved himself to be extremely willing, reliable, and well-trained. 

He was the most awesomest trail horse ever!

If it sounds too good to be true, I’d agree with you. I’m shocked. 

We were able to make it to all my old haunts, and Tumbleweed acted like there was nothing he couldn’t do. 

Of course, the information Katie had given me was invaluable. For one, I knew he could do what I was asking. That’s HUGE. 

But even more importantly was the “feel” she was able to bring back and which I put to good use, first in the arena at all gaits—rock star—then on the trail. 

I checked in with him gently throughout the ride, made sure to keep that neutral headset, but otherwise left him alone on a loose rein, which is my preferred riding style anyway, and let him figure it out. 

One of the worst hills we went on, he wanted to zigzag a little bit, which was fine. On the ones that didn’t allow zigzagging, I asked him with one rein to stay straight, but I gave him his head. 

There was one uphill that he wanted to trot, but again, I gave a gentle tug on one rein and he immediately returned to the walk. 

He did the hardest hills the park has to offer, even the one with the loose rock I was saving for last. He took it slow. That is where he wanted to pick his way more cautiously and zig zag a bit. One of the last ones we did was to the campground where we had our previous issues. He took it slow and steady and didn’t get at all worked up.

He really engaged his hind end and felt solid, which is a testament to the work we did all spring, summer, and fall with Regina. He was confident in his body carrying a rider. He was sensitive to the cues.

He came out of the trailer super chill, and already had that relaxed headset. 

And he ended even more relaxed and stood ground tied like a pro as I unsaddled him. Tumbleweed, you’re a trail horse now!

I told Katie she fixed us and she laughed and said sometimes all it takes is getting the horse and owner on the same page. Well, she definitely did that. 

I just knew running into her was a good omen. She was able to help put the final trail riding pieces together. 

The only bad thing is now I don’t want to stop. That was the most fun I’ve had on a horse since Cowboy and it is a feeling you just want to keep having. 

Maybe we will get lucky and have a few more good weeks to ride. 🙏

Mulling and Slowing

I continue to mull over the lesson I had with Katie. Seeing Tumbleweed through that prism, an experienced, gentle hand, just completely changed the way I think of supporting him on the trail. 

We talked a lot as she was riding him on the circle after the trail work, and I recorded a little bit of that conversation. A new horse had entered the arena on the far side, and Tweed wanted to look at it, but she was demonstrating how easy it was to keep him tuned into the work, despite that, and also talking about what worked on the trail. 

I transcribed a portion of it to remind myself:

“I rode pretty loose the whole time so he knew he was being good when he was being good and then as soon as he would bring it up I would just tiny little ask to bring it back down and he stayed pretty nice level ears the whole time.

I do a lot with my legs, too. He kind of wanted to stop and I’d just put a little inside leg, ‘get back on that circle,’ a little inside rein and kinda say, ‘hey, pay attention. Keep it nice and chill.’

He’s very smart. I can tell he knows a lot just from the way he responds to the things I ask him. It’s more like that little reminder and maybe he just needs a little reminder. 

I find, too, that if sometimes I make too big of a deal of their mistakes, it flusters them and they’re like, ‘oh my gosh I’m in trouble,’ and then their brain scatters and then you have to bring them back. With this, he just barely knows he’s in trouble. It’s more like a little reminder, like ‘okay, you know what you’re supposed to be doing, let’s keep doing that’. And he’s like, ‘okay, I’ll do it.’”

She also told me that her check-ins were constant, like every 15 seconds. She was actively supporting him the whole time so that when they got to the super steep hills it wasn’t anything new.

We had planned to ride together on Sunday, the only sunny day in the forecast, but I remembered that I need to babysit my grandson. We are looking for another day to do it, but have to work around her schedule and the worsening weather.

The reality of fall is setting in. We are entering the time of year where I wish I had an indoor arena. 

But the slow down also opens up more opportunities for family time.

And barn time.

And music. (Our city comes alive with music and theater during the cold months.) I will also start back up on my flute lessons.

We didn’t sit at tables for the musical soirée pictured. We sat in chairs on the second level looking down. We kind of like our privacy, even in the midst of crowded spaces.

Oh, for my Canadian friends, good luck tonight at the World Series! How exciting for the Blue Jays. We’ll be watching the first part and taping the end. We’re rooting for them. Go Jays!

Update: we rescheduled for Monday. I am paying extra for her to bring her horse and ride with us on the trails. This will probably be my last lesson ride of the season, as they will be closing the park, and I think a very important piece and good way to end this year’s trail work. 

And the Problem Is…(Drum Roll)

 

There’s so much to tell about the lesson ride today, I don’t even know where to start. 

We met at the arena and Katie warmed up with Tumbleweed for about 30 minutes as we also talked about his history. She remembered us from Regina’s old training barn where I had taken him a few times when he was very young. It turns out, she also trained horses and riders at that barn. She has been starting horses for some time now and is much more experienced than I understood. 

After her warm up she told me she felt fine riding him out and wanted to see how he did on some hills around us. So, off they rode, and after about 20 minutes, reappeared and went back into the arena where I met her for the update.

Well, he did great. Better than great. He did the small and medium hills (which he also does good for me) but then at the end, when she pointed him down a very steep hill that descends back towards my trailer, surprise, he did that one great, too. 

She lightly asked for flexion, gave him his head, he picked his way carefully, she had to ask for flexion at one more point, and he continued his way down carefully, looking to her for support, but getting the job done and engaging his hind end.

Sooooo, you know what that means. It means it’s a me problem. 

She said she wants to bring her horse to the next ride and watch what I’m doing with Tumbleweed so that she can assess what’s happening.   

Already I know that she is supporting him MUCH more than I was doing. She said that horses like him, western bred, do better with a lower headset. When you allow them to get their heads up too high, they start looking for trouble. She would ask him for vertical flexion until she found his relaxed head carriage, then she would check in with him whenever he left it. Tweed loved that togetherness. It seemed to reassure him. He melted into her leadership.

She said she could tell I’d worked on those same skills a lot because they were there for her to use with very gentle asks. It might be a tap on his side, a slight pinky raise of a rein, …just very gentle reminders that he could relax, and he’d drop his head right back down.

There are a couple of possibilities about what I’m doing  wrong.

1. I might be riding him like a super broke horse and not supporting him enough, allowing his energy to rise up. Then, when we get to a steep hill, he’s already more tense than I realize and it exacerbates it. She didn’t allow for that to happen because she was actively riding him the whole time. She said she asked for connection about every 15 seconds. For me, it’s probably every 3-5 minutes. That much time in between allows him to go on autopilot and then he expects to be left alone on hills, too.

2. My own fears could be getting in the way. Katie said when she was a little girl she got bucked off at a certain post in the arena. After that her horse would always react (get bigger) going past that post, so she assumed something about the post scared him. Someone suggested to her that it might be her own fear, and horses are very sensitive to our stress. She rode him with that new mindset and, POOF, his reaction went away.

I guess it is both 1 and 2.

Tumbleweed and I had a bad experience on that exact same hill by the equestrian campground 3 years ago. I was riding with my husband and Foxy and Foxy got super far in front. Tweed tried to catch up by trying to run. I had to check his speed, and he wasn’t paying attention to his feet. We bumbled our way down the hill, but it definitely rattled me. 

The information I got today from her riding my horse is INVALUABLE. He’s not so unfit he can’t do the job. His foundation, and what Regina has helped me put on him, is solid.

He’s super sweet, willing and smart.

I am so relieved to know it’s a me problem. I can fix me. And Katie is the exact person to help at this juncture. (Good omens) by riding out with us, observing, and training me. 

From riding Tweed today she was able to assess where he’s at, what he needs from his rider, what gives him support, and in what amounts. 

I’m looking very forward to our ride on Sunday.

Katie: “He was very fun to ride. I had a great time. He is very sweet.” 

Awwww…he really is a golden boy.

Good Omens All Around

This is an egg case, an ootheca, from a praying mantis, left as a gift to us in our front door frame. This last month or so, the female who left it has been a constant companion at our door. 

And in the flowers next to it. 

Sadly, the female mantis will die after she lays her eggs. 

Her oothaca can contain 50-200 baby mantises, and I now have the responsibility to keep them safe through winter. 

I’ve always known the praying mantis is a good sign, but the oothaca has even more symbology: divine timing, birth and rebirth, spiritual renewal, peace, and perseverance. 

I will take whatever good tidings I can get. 

—

When I was at the equestrian park two days ago I met a young trainer who studied under my trainer now and is willing to put rides on horses. I watched her with the young horse she was riding and was impressed with her gentle, yet confident approach. 

We set up a time for her to ride Tweed on the trails next week, as I’m interested to get her input. I told her what he’s doing on hills and she didn’t seem fazed by it. 

If it works out, I will try to get maybe a couple more rides from her before winter hits, and then some spring rides later. Fingers crossed it works out, as she might me just the person to help us through this little blip. 

She asked me all about my goals and training—what we want accomplished and how—and is willing to support that work. My current trainer thought it was an excellent idea to help us along. 

The great thing about this is that I can have my grandson with me, since I won’t be in saddle. That frees up a lot more opportunities and the chance to get more rides on Tweed, which he needs. 

Good omens all around. 

My Golden Boy

(Tweed worked up a sweat)

This horse. He is pouring his little heart out for me. ❤️

We had a lesson at the park yesterday, but beforehand I rode him in the round pen and arena myself while my trainer was giving another lesson. 

Tweed is hesitant about standing water, so we practiced our new skill of vertical flexion (I have a job for you to do), release and allow him to extend his neck to the job, and then do the job. 

It worked. 

Soon we were trotting through the water confidently and Tweed was very willing and proud of himself. 

In the big arena I practiced a skill I’d seen a trainer on Facebook do: walk a circle so your horse knows the exact pattern (he actually used cones), then ride them on the circle on a loose rein, only correcting them if they leave the circle or to check their speed. 

Well, that didn’t go so well. Tweed was distracted with all the other horses. It was, for lack of a better word, sloppy. 

About that time my trainer walked over, finished with her other lesson, and asked me what I was doing and how it was working. I explained it to her and she said that is a good exercise, but he’s not ready for it yet. 

The homework she’d given me (and that I’d practiced throughout the week) was to ask for vertical flexion and hind end engagement, then release the contact by small degrees to the amount of contact where Tumbleweed would CONTINUE to carry himself. If he stopped carrying himself, get him back into vertical flexion and repeat. And repeat. And repeat. 

She’s right, of course. That’s the whole point of what we’re doing, getting him to use that beautiful big hind end of his in the correct way. Strengthen him. Prepare him for those big old hills. 

It’s hard, hard work, and they want to escape it (like he did on the trail rides) so he found things to get scared about—like a dust devil with pine needles swirling our way. Oh. My. Goodness! Those ears went up. He froze. I couldn’t get him forward. He wanted to run away. 

I didn’t know what to do. 

My trainer yelled at me to make him face it. I did as I was told and she went to stand between us and his perceived monster on the outside of the arena. Then she told me to push him forward and get him back to work, vertical flexion, controlled speed. 

I did that too. It worked. 

She yelled out at me, “You just recreated what happens on the hills and got through it! Good job!”

I think I’m a slow learner, because it just now really hit me how ALL these things are tied together. I probably discounted the importance of the arena work. Why? I don’t know. The trainer who started him sure doesn’t discount that work. Nor does my current personal trainer. 

Anyway, we kept progressing to harder and harder work at the lope and that little horse of mine was trying so hard for me as I was STRUGGLING with correct inside and outside rein and seat and legs. My trainer was like, sit back! Further! Deeper! Further! 

I felt like I was lying down in the saddle, but she assured me I was only slightly back. 

It dawns on me now that I am learning to engage my own hind end as much as Tweed is learning to engage his. And guess what? It works. When you sit your butt in that saddle like you should, they respond. 

Afterward, I walked him around and visited with some of my friends and their horses. Gave him lots of scratches and love as we rested and enjoyed what was a beautiful 60 degree 🌞 day. 

Then unsaddled and groomed him and walked him around some more. 

I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to be there forever with my golden boy.