On a Horse I Love “Heaven, I’m In Heaven”

Being on horseback is my happy place, but more specifically, a horse I love. 

Not just any horse. Not just any ride. 

A ride where we look to each other for support. 

That’s my version of heaven.

Katie was gone last week, and it gave me the chance to take three rides on my own. Two solo, one with a friend. Each around 3 hours total. That was good for Tumbleweed and we made a lot of progress with exposure.

On one ride (it’s where we go under the arched tree and ride through fields of knee high green grass) my mind went to a lovely place. I was humming the soundtrack “Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek…” My mind, my attention, went deep into some other sphere. 

A couple of birds flew up and Tweed spooked a da-dump, which instantly shook me out of my reverie. I laughed and reassured him that I was still there with him, but I wonder if he sensed that I was lost in thought, not really present and with him, and felt unsupported when the birds flew up. 

At any rate, his da-dump was very mild and did not at all spoil my mood. 

With Tumbleweed, on the trail is literally my happy place, my heaven, but I need to be more cautious about going too deep into it lest I be transported to the real heaven too soon. 

I’ll leave you with some photos from around our place. 

The barn planters. 

Spanish Lavender.  

The old rust bucket planter 

Roses

Peonies, that’s how you know it’s Memorial Day.

And one of the butterflies we raised with our grandson, Pilot. It’s our second batch of Painted Lady caterpillars. We successfully hatched four and released them to the world. 

They flew off to their own fate, like we all do.

Happy Memorial Day!

Playing With Ponies

 

During Tumbleweed’s recovery from colic, I had an epiphany’ish moment, and it was this: I care about him too much to write about him in a way that minimizes the heart of his story and our journey together. 

I decided that I would either close up the blog or only post more rarely and allow his story to breathe and take shape. I settled on a weekly reflection. 

Every Monday I will try to post a thought or two. 

My thought for this Monday is regarding a Warwick Schiller webinar I attended this weekend on horses and separation anxiety. 

It was really good and informative, and he began it this way:

“Separation anxiety is anxiety and anxiety isn’t anything someone wants to have. Your perspective when you’re working on this stuff will have a huge effect on the outcome. So when I’m doing this work with horses, I’m NOT trying to fix the problem. The horse doesn’t have a problem. The horse does not feel safe, and they need to be helped. The intention behind any action can change the action. If you do something for a certain reason, it comes across one way, and if you do something for another reason, it comes across another way.”

From that beginning framework he shared his ideas on how to help a horse through separation anxiety, the most common form of it being a horse who is left behind by a buddy. 

——-

For the last couple of weeks, we have taken an approach to separation that is much more subtle and slow. 

If Epona is working, I ride Tweed off and away, then back, then away. 

If we’re on the trail, we practice leading and following. Epona might drop pretty far behind, get much further ahead, or we might ride them side-by-side. So far Tumbleweed has done exceptionally well, as has Epona, who seems made for trail riding. 

It’s so fun to have both of our “babies” on the trail together now. It feels different, like we’re not “working” anymore, but instead, we’re playing—playing with our sweet ponies. 

A Deeper Connection

 

It has been over two weeks since my last post.

Two weeks ago, Sunday, Tumbleweed came in from pasture with a gas colic. That set off three days of fear as I waited and prayed his system would return to normal. Hourly checks. Watered down food and mashes with as much as salt as he would tolerate (per doctor’s orders). And time.

He recovered quickly, but the vet told me it takes about three days for their systems to return to normal, and that proved to be true.

We got back to work slowly and have had several wonderful trail rides. Not surprisingly, the time together bonded us more deeply. He has done his best rides since his colic.

I took him off chasteberry during that waiting period, and I probably won’t put him back on. He’s doing too well to need it.

More time in saddle, and out in the big world meeting people (and donkeys) has made Tweed a budding lead trail horse.

Epona is starting on the trails, and he enjoys leading her. He seems to be taking care of her, in his own way, by being more mature.

I’ve decided that Tumbleweed’s desire to take care of his mares is natural and noble. Here he is with his five girls. 

And here he is after he settled from Epona riding away from him. He didn’t like it, at first, but became resigned and cocked a leg. (What more could I ask for? Good boy!!)

And that’s how we have handled buddy sour lately, the natural way. Give them jobs and let the natural process unfold. 

Our training is largely finished with Tumbleweed, but the new plan is to use him to bring Epona along on the trails. (My daughter riding Epona above).

We will keep doing what we’ve been doing, lots and lots of trail exposure and longer and longer rides. I’ve found the longer the ride, the better he does. 

His fitness level is just off the charts this year with all the early work he got. Katie said that he has finally matured into his body. 

For example, he knows how to use his body up and down hills. Last year he was still a bit goofy in his body, and that led to some insecurity on his part (and mine.). But that is gone. I feel like I have a horse underneath me now. A horse who can lead out and go wherever we need to go.

One of my rides was with a friend’s horse who I rode with last year and had issues. What a difference. He didn’t pay any attention to what that mare was doing or how far she fell behind. It was just me and him, and he went wherever I pointed. He was still a bit looky, but a good kind of looky, the kind that lessens with exposure. The kind that listens to me for reassurance.

Maybe it took a colic to get us to this partnership. Maybe those hourly barn checks bonded us in a deeper way. If so, I guess I’m thankful for it. 

I will leave off with a few images of our spring. 

This crabapple tree we planted two years ago stopped us in our tracks everyday while it bloomed. We could also see it from our front windows. 

What a gift. 

A last bleeding heart. 

Summer snowflake 

Kwanzan Cherry. 

Summer snowflake 

Apple tree blossoms

Blue vinca