Competition for Attention

 

Tuesday, as I went out to work with Tweed, my mind was full of all the ideas I’d read in Sacred Spaces and True Horsemanship Through Feel. I wanted to 1) learn to communicate with the horse I had that day, and 2) begin to visualize what I want before asking for it. I would like to see if I can train him to listen to my smallest intention, and shift of energy towards that intention.

It’s hard.

It’s hard because I usually go straight to the aid, and he has learned to tune out my energy and intention. I’ve trained him to ignore it. 

As I walked Tweed, he felt like he had some pent up energy, so I released him in the arena to “run it off.” (Mistake 1) He didn’t run, but instead tried to snatch grass from outside the arena. I remembered I’d forgotten some of the tack, and left him in there, alone, to go retrieve it  

When I got behind the shed, and he couldn’t see me, I heard a ruckus. He was ripping around and whinnying for a buddy. 

By the time I got back, he had totally switched into flight mode. 

Lesson 1: Tumbleweed needs connection to calm him,  not freedom.

I had planned to ride bareback that day, but the plans changed. I decided to instead work on the horse, and situation, before me, which would require that I safely catch and halter him, then bring his energy, and his mind, back to me. 

It took a few minutes to safely get him back under halter, but his energy was still way up. 

We did some basic flag work first, because I didn’t want to be standing too close to him when his energy was that high. 

When he calmed down enough, we did the head releases. 

The rest of our time together was working on the line, and asking for gait changes, but using an image of that change, and the energy from that image, before using any other ask, like the cluck, kiss, or (last resort) flag. 

Not surprisingly, Tweed, at first, ignored my intention, and he had big, emotional gait changes. He resisted tuning into me because he wanted to keep his attention outside the arena or on the herd.  

It hit me that the hardest thing we ask our horses to do isn’t physical, it’s mental. Their survival depends on their attention to their environment. Scary things. The herd. We’re asking them to let all that go and give us that precious attention. 

Even harder, however, is asking them to tune in on an even deeper level to our energy and intention. 

Our aids are big, hard to tune out (though they can). It gives them the opportunity to multi-task. I’ll think about scary things until I feel you physically cue me otherwise.  

Tuning into our energy and intention requires almost all their attention. 

As we worked on the line, and he figured out the new rules, he began looking to me more for my intention. I rewarded him big when he was successful. (New rules) His transitions became very relaxed. No more drama. 

Subtlety isn’t my strength, and neither is visualizing what I want before I ask. After Tuesday’s work, however,  I know Tweed is trainable to energy and intention, if I take the time to do it, then reward him. 

Working at home is challenging. It was much easier to get with him away from home. I have a few ideas to help with that, but I’ll write more about them later. 

I want to end this post with Amy Skinner Horsemanship on Facebook. One of her posts popped up this morning, and it was exactly what we’ve been talking about on this blog for the last month. I gave her page a follow and read some of her other posts. She talks about our fears, emotions, and baggage, and how they inform our life with horses. It was some really poignant writing, and I highly recommend it. 

Also, don’t forget the book giveaway. Leave a comment to be entered into the drawing. I think you will find things to love about the book Sacred Spaces. 

Update: Today, Tweed was completely tuned in and matching my energy. He didn’t even need a warm up. I didn’t think we’d get to riding bareback, but he was so gentle and willing, it seemed obvious to jump on. He was perfect, and we practiced tuning into the slightest intention, then rewarding. 

He did so well, I decided to try his trot at bareback, and it was also glorious. 

It proves, yet again, how drastically our horses can change from one day to the next. 

Sacred Spaces Giveaway

This was the view out my window yesterday, Epona and Tumbleweed sleeping together. It epitomizes the idea of “Sacred Spaces.” 

It’s that feeling you have when you’re so comfortable with someone else, you have full trust, and all the barriers come down. Your energy meets theirs. Your communication is silent, but stronger than words.

Now that Tumbleweed’s shoes are off and we’re staying home, my focus has shifted to relationship work. What can I do to develop his trust? 

A friend posted the wisdom above, and I liked it and remarked that it sounded like what I’m reading about feel in True Horsemanship. Another friend contacted me and told me that Dr Susan Fay (the quote above) wrote a book called Sacred Spaces, and she really enjoyed it.

I ordered it on the spot, it arrived the next day, and I finished it a few days ago.

This is a book about the rider, not about training. It is about what we bring to the relationship in terms of our energy, intention, stories, labels, focus, and expectations. She said she wrote it to help the horse by helping the human.

And she certainly got me thinking about my own stories, energy, intentions, and labels, especially since that was the last great epiphany of my trail riding season. It was that moment when I said, the problem is me. I need to fix me.

Everything shifted at that moment and I realized I’d focused too much on mechanics (which I’m not good at and probably never will be) and not enough on the feel and the communication and support that comes from it.

A horse will do almost anything for you if you get those pieces right.

Unlike True Horsemanship, this book is available to purchase, and I would like to make it my giveaway today. I can’t send you mine, because mine is now as marked up as a personal journal, but I will send you your own new copy.

For this giveaway, I only ask that you comment with a story or label you told yourself that got in the way of your horse journey. I will draw a name a week from today for the winner of the book.

Personally, I can think of all kinds of stories and labels that got in my way. Most recently, the one about Tumbleweed and hill work. I was so focused on what was going wrong, I failed to see how it would look going right. That movie in my head was creating changes in me, and him, that sabotaged our progress. 

Seeing Katie ride Tumbleweed showed me a different movie, and a better way that focused on feel for Tumbleweed as a completely unique soul. (Dr. Fay brings up that scenario in the book—sometimes we need to see another rider on our horse.) The new movie influenced me in such a drastic way that our next ride was the glorious one I previously wrote about. 

So, how about you? What expectations, labels for your horse, or stories from the past, projected to the future, didn’t serve you and your horse?

Sacred Spaces

 

I just finished the book, Sacred Spaces: Communion With the Horse Through Science and Spirit. Wow. So. Much. Amazing. Insight.

As I was reading True Horsemanship, a friend recommended it to me, and it builds beautifully on the philosophies of the Dorrances, but expands on the idea of the energy/ spirit, visualization, and intention. 

From True Unity by Tom Dorrance:

“I didn’t use to elaborate on the third factor, spirit; I only just mentioned it. But I’ve begun to wonder about it in the last few years. Maybe if people got to realizing the importance of that part of the horse, they could get more feel and understanding from right in the horse’s innards. Then they could try to figure out the mental and the physical parts. 

Riders may want to get an answer to their questions right early—on the surface. I want them to try to figure out something; I want them to work at figuring out the whole horse—his mind, body, and spirit. Maybe they will figure out what they are missing.”

Spirit, energy, intention, stories, visualizations, communication: my head is swimming with all the things the book brought up and how it expands on the concept of feel and connection, taking it even further to communion. 

I will write more tomorrow, but today I am heading to the barn to spend time with Foxy, the passive leader of our herd and the one Tumbleweed loves with every cell in his body. 

I have a lot to learn from her.  

Tumbleweed’s 2nd Ride Bareback (Video)

There’s not a lot to say about this post, except that I did work on feel from the ground first and also a “make believe” visualization last night while I was reading the book, Sacred Spaces: Communion With The Horse Through Science and Spirit. 

It’s Tumbleweed’s second time bareback, and there wasn’t any of the muscle twitching going on that we had from his first experience. 

He did very well. 

I didn’t ask for anything beyond the walk, although, I think he would have been fine at other gaits. 

That’s for another day.  

If you do watch this long video, there is one point toward the end where he’s looking outside the arena for something to be concerned about, and when I checked in with him on the inside rein he was surprised and scooted a bit. I was doing those little check ins the whole time. That’s the feel he needs for support.

My husband sat and took the video with the dogs running around him. Luckily, they didn’t startle Tweed. 

Feel Starts On the Ground

“The more these horses get so they feel of you, why the security they need comes from you, and that gives you more control.”

There’s an easy exercise to do with your horses in True Horsemanship Through Feel, adjusting headset from the ground. You have one hand on the rope below the halter knot and the other on his neck behind the poll and you ask with the halter to drop the head. If they try to look elsewhere, you go with them, then ask again. Do it from both sides.

The point of it is to use a gentle feel to get your horse with you and relaxed.

It’s also a precursor to asking for vertical flexion in saddle. 

I have done a little of this already during my lessons with Regina, but I thought it would be fun to do with more distractions at home.

Sure enough, Epona gave us a big one when she went ripping around the turnout, mad at being separated from her boy  

Tweed looks over and wonders what the ruckus is all about.

Oh, maybe there’s something over there to be interested in.

What’s Epona doing?

I think I’ll incorporate this exercise before every ride. It was easy to get with Tumbleweed, and he didn’t have any resistance to dropping his head. I’m sure that is because after all the work we’ve done together, we have established, finally, a pretty good feel between us.

But everyday is different, and he may be more concerned about something on another day. 

I want to have an arsenal of these simple exercises to do throughout winter, especially when there are days we can’t ride, but want to continue strengthening feel and connection. 

I’m heading out this morning to work with him on bareback. It’s a beautiful day, his shoes are off, and I expect it to go great. And, I will have my tripod set up to get video this time.

 

True Horsemanship Through Feel

“When you can direct a horse’s movement through feel, then there’s understanding taking place between the person and the horse. That is the sign of true horsemanship.”

I’m rereading True Horsemanship Through Feel, and it is so mind-blowingly on spot. 

“When you have feel that goes both ways, you have that horse’s respect and cooperation. Really, it’s just that simple. Anyone with a sincere desire to achieve connection with a horse could develop this ability. They need to have the time to devote to it and someone to help them once in a while.”

That is why Katie riding Tumbleweed was such an important piece of information for me. She is a big believer in this feel that Dorrance is talking about. Each horse is different, and we have to understand and figure them out. 

We tend to think of what horses should be doing or compare them to others we have ridden, but finding our way with a new horse is a creative process with no shortcuts.

“When a person figures out how to present an understandable feel to a horse, then, I’ll say for the most part, that horse’s problems will be eliminated.”

After reading the introduction again, which is the most valuable part of the book, I saw how difficult it had been for me to open up and feel Tumbleweed when so much of my thought and emotion was on my dad passing and then my daughter and grandson’s situation with the divorce.

I sensed that I wasn’t available enough to meet the challenge, and that is why I asked for Regina’s help to keep us going even as I was somewhat sleep walking through life.

“Since feel is the horse’s language, our safety—and his, too—just really depends on us learning how to present what we want him to do, through feel.”

I inherently knew it wasn’t safe to be working without proper feel and connection, but I didn’t want to stop either.

Eventually, enough emotional space freed back up to devote to Tumbleweed, but I’d gotten ahead of myself in the mechanics. I was, at times, too firm, and at other times, too checked out.

“Even if the picture they have is okay, when they handle the horse with more firmness than he needs, they’ll get a wrong response nearly every time and think the horse is at fault. When that’s their thinking, they’re liable to apply a lot more pressure on the horse—which really mixes him up.”

After Katie rode him that first day it was obvious to me I had too much training mindset and not enough feel mindset. When we rode together and I put it to practice, I felt the connection as plain as day. 

I was riding the horse I had at the moment, not the horses I have previously rode or thought he should be. 

And, that feel was happening every second of the ride, not intermittently. 

With connection came courage, but the courage wasn’t rooted in a false sense, it was rooted in the feeling that I had gotten with him and we were working together.

“So many people ask if they’ll know what it’s going to feel like when it’s that better way. Well, there isn’t any doubt that you and the horse will know, because when you get that together feel, it’s not like any other feeling and you’ll know all right.”

I remember when I read this book while training Leah, and she had a big issue with opening and closing gates. (Tumbleweed, by the way, LOVES the gate stuff). But Leah would lose her mind, and once, she almost fell over on me trying to escape the gate.

Finally, I rode her bareback to do it, which allowed me to really feel her body respond. Her heart would just start beating against my leg with anxiety when we approached a gate, so I’d stop right there until she calmed down. We broke it down into small, small steps, and soon enough, we had overcome her fears. 

Enough cannot be said about this feel with our horses. It is the heart of the whole matter and what makes this journey so rewarding.

(To be continued….)

Puddle Master

Only other horse people can understand the thrill and accomplishment of a horse going through …puddles.  

Tweed and I squeezed out one more trail ride yesterday, and though he needed more gentle support since we were alone, he was a rockstar.

The thing about asking them to go through puddles is that there is usually dry ground around them, and most horses, until they become Puddle Masters, prefer to take the safe and easy way. 

But an ask is an ask, and their answer kind of tells us who is leading the ride. 

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present for your viewing pleasure a little  kind of big dunskin horsey named Tumbleweed that has achieved the level of Puddle Master. 😆

With Familiarity Comes Naughtiness

A long time ago we lived close to our trainer, now two hours away, and it was easy to go back and forth with her as we fine tuned our horses. As we were riding, if we hit a roadblock, she’d put on a ride or two and fix them. It was like good cop, bad cop, and they seemed much more appreciative of us, and the easy work we asked of them, when we rode them after her.

Yesterday was Katie’s second time riding Mr. Tumbleweed. I had to babysit my grandson, and T’s shoes come off Wednesday, so I figured a last ride with Katie would be good for him. Tweed wasn’t sure he agreed.

In fact, he pulled out all his tricks for her which he had hidden so well only a couple of weeks ago. They’re nothing big, just trying to get out of the hard work stuff.

The kind of moves that upset your seat and make the rider work a lot harder.

We talked about him a little when she was done in the arena and she said it’s often the case they do more naughty stuff on the second ride when they feel more comfortable with you. 

The difference is, she’s used to it. She just kept collecting him up and asking again, and again, and again. It was good for me to see her patience and consistency and realize there are no shortcuts or magic beans, just hard work. 

After their warmup, she rode him to the river and down some steep hills with drop offs. She said he hugged the drop off side a little too close for comfort (been there) and he looked around a lot. She used her leg to get him center on the trail and when they made their return back he kept to center better. 

She took a video at the river when she got him to go in. 

She said as they returned he wanted to pick up the trot, but she was able to check his speed with no problem. It also started to rain, and the rain agitated him. He is a bit of a dandy man. 

When she got back to the equestrian area there was a new horse cantering around the arena and Tweed wanted to look at it. Katie rode him over and asked him to stand sideways against the rail and relax. He kept trying to get his head up and look at the horse. She would ask for him to relax with vertical flexion. At one point he tried to yank the reins away, as he has done with me before. He was DONE and he wanted to be left alone. But she was unfazed and asked again, and that was that. He gave up and cocked a leg. 

I’m sad that our time with trail riding (and with Katie) will now be put on hold until spring, but it is what it is.  

We’ve done a lot together and learned a lot together this year. There have been trail rides, weekly lessons, a clinic, and many epiphanies that will guide us further towards partnership. 

Way back, when I was going through this same journey with Leah, Gray Horse Matters sent me this book by Bill Dorrance, True Horsemanship Through Feel. I’m going to read it again now. 

That feeling of “getting with your horse” is quite magical. It’s what keeps us saddling up and striving for connection. It’s what keeps us going after the inevitable hard days. And the better we fine tune our feel, the happier our horses are, too. 

I have a horse who comes to me when he sees me approach with a halter. He leaves his mare herd, even when he sees the truck running and the trailer doors open. He jumps in and scoots his butt over to close the divider, even without me asking. He pours his heart out on the trails. 

That’s what I’m taking with me into winter, and it fills my heart with love for him, and longing for more. 

Feel and Connection: The Missing Pieces

 

The lead up to yesterday’s ride was, perhaps, more interesting from a horsemanship perspective than the ride itself, which turned out gloriously, unexpectedly well. After seeing Katie ride Tweed, and consulting with her afterward, my mind was non-stop mulling about how to fix me and what needed fixing.

One of the biggest questions I had was about my own anxiety. I began wondering to what extent I may have changed due to life circumstances: the responsibility of helping raise a grandson, age, and just basic life changes that can make us feel a little gutted and unsure of ourselves.

I began to wonder if the present circumstances have knocked my confidence, especially since my dad died and my little world started fraying.

I was on a ride with a friend last month and when we got to that hill by the campground Tweed got flustered and messy and I asked her to stop so I could school him there. As she waited for us she offered a suggestion that I take a moment to breathe and relax. She insinuated that my own stress was causing the problem. 

I replied that of course when my horse is flying down a hill, totally ignoring me, I’m going to be a little stressed, but that isn’t the root of the problem. 

As I prepared for yesterday’s ride, I started to give her words new weight. Maybe I was more anxious than I understood or admitted to myself.

——

(Liquid courage)

Yesterday’s ride was supposed to be a schooling ride and a fact finding mission: what was I doing, or not doing, that Katie was doing or not doing?

The vision I had of what would occur on the ride was based upon our previous ones: we’d go down the trail all cool and normal and then I’d come to a big hill and Katie would insist I go down it, Tumbleweed would rush, I’d flounder, and then we’d stop and school it. I might give up and let Katie ride Tweed, switch horses with her, and —-fill in the blank. 

Not a positive vision, right?

The photo of the cup above is not coffee. It is wine. I decided to take a few sips before my ride to calm whatever nerves I had, even though, once again, I did not feel anxious. 

I arrived early to the park and Tumbleweed came out of the trailer completely relaxed. We were the only ones there, except the rental horses that are always in a turnout area nearby for guided trail rides. We tacked up and did some basic groundwork, then I bridled him and walked him to the mounting block. 

As usual, Tumbleweed came right around to my sweet spot, first ask, and allowed me to climb up. He really is the best at this, and I appreciate it at my age. Sidenote: Katie is one of those horsewomen who can grab mane and swing herself up. I have never figured out how to do that, but it is impressive. 

We went into the arena and rode circles at walk, trot and lope—using the information Katie had given me about gentle reminders for flexion and a loose rein to reward his effort. I got the best canter work Tweed had ever given me and that was a huge morale boost. 

Katie still hadn’t arrived, so I took Tweed out by myself, again, using the information Katie had given about being clear where I needed his headset, but not overly aggressive getting it. Gentle reminders. Gentle check ins. Once again, Tweed responded very well. 

After we rode alone for awhile, Katie pulled in and saddled up and we began our “fact finding ride.”

——

It had been raining a lot this last week and there are large puddles along the trail. Tweed is generally quite logical about these and prefers to take dry ground. Thus, our first opportunity presented itself quickly.

You might remember that Regina had us doing an exercise where you point him at an object, ask for vertical flexion well ahead (I have something I want you to do), ride to the object, ask him to acknowledge it, then push him onto it or through it.  Well, that is also Katie’s method. 

We did the steps, and Tweed put his front feet in, but stopped. Katie stood to the side and coached us through it. Reward him.  Put more outside leg. Release and reward. Ask him to go through, (he kept going to the side, so more outside leg to keep him straight).

It didn’t take long before he went through. (Big reward.)

But every puddle is a new puddle, and there were lots of puddles. Each puddle became easier until the last one, the deepest and longest of them all. Tumbleweed went through confidently on the first ask. BIG WIN.  

And that is about where the “schooling” part stopped. 

I had been thinking, “wow, I am spending a lot of time on standing water when I should be doing hills,” but in fact, I was doing hill work by doing water work. 

Katie asked me what I felt comfortable riding and I said anything. 

I have written about one hill, in particular, that is rocky and technically difficult because horses can slide a bit. I had avoided that hill thus far with Tweed, but I told her I wanted to try it and go to the river.

I wasn’t even slightly concerned because the connection was there, and when you feel that connection, you know it. In fact, I would say confidence comes from connection.

The rest of the ride was already written about on the last post. We pointed ourselves at all the previously avoided “scary” difficult descents and ascents. We even encountered a biker, which bothered Katie’s horse, but Tweed didn’t care a bit, except to be mildly curious about a man in blue garb on a two wheeler.

Tweed took every step of the ride with the same gentlemanly care he shows at the mounting block. 

——

Was my friend right about my own anxiety playing a part?

After yesterday, my answer is yes and no.

We didn’t have full connection before that, and when it’s missing, you know it. Yes, it sends off warning bells, but those bells are sounding the alarm that you are missing a big chunk of something. In our case, it was feel.

Katie had “fixed us” before we even started that ride. The information she gave me last Thursday about Tumbleweed on trails was all about proper feel and how to support him better with it. She was like a horse/human counselor connecting the last, vital dots. 

—-

In summary, yes, life has changed me. I am more cautious. I do have higher expectations than just “ride it out.” I know what connection feels like, and I won’t settle for less. 

But I think all those things make me a better horsewoman, not worse. 

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.