Would You Like To Dance?

"So much wasted time."

David Cassidy's last words as he was dying.

When the nurse told me to “go to my happy place,” she said I told her it would be the horses. (My husband and children gave me a bit of grief about that!)  I woke up feeling euphoric, just as the nurse was telling my husband the story. It felt right. It felt like I had truly been with my horses.

I’ve written before about how it feels for me to climb into the saddle—it’s like a swoosh of endorphins flooding my brain. I also have this image of heaven, my herd galloping to meet me when I pass over. It gives me comfort. I love my family with all my heart, but my relationship with the horses is other-worldly. I hope the readers will understand what I mean, and maybe even be able to clarify it more, in the comments section.

Yesterday was the first day I was able to work with my horses—Cowboy, Leah, and Beautiful--since the heart ablation.  I didn’t expect it to be any different, but it was. Something had changed in me, a way of communicating. It's as if, when they fixed my heart, they also helped it to feel more vividly the emotions of my horses.

The idea of The Dance became clearer and shifted from a--

We're going to dance!

To a--

Would you like to dance?

I had more patience to ask and wait for the give.  More patience to see it as a series of dance steps, rather than a whole dance.  And, this great understanding that learning the steps to the dance is not wasted time, but rushing the dance or not dancing at all IS wasted time.

Seeing it that way, I was able to get insight into my relationships the three horses I worked with, and I want to share it and ask you to leave a comment explaining how you see your own dances with your horses.

******

Cowboy.

As I tried to take Cowboy's picture, he wanted to come to me.  He didn't want to graze.  He didn't want to walk back to the herd.  He wanted to dance.  With me.

We are those long-time dance partners you see on the dance floor, feet shuffling back and forth, back and forth, hands held tight--knowing the rhythm, the steps, the give and take.  Imagine the most perfect couple out on the dance floor, the one that just has you mesmerized, and then look over to the side at the ones who aren't that good, but you can tell they've been dancing together for a long time, too.  That is us.  Cowboy and me.  There is still a bit of tension here and there, but we've learned to dance together and we're used to each other.

Cowboy doesn't like the tango.  We don't do the tango.  We only dance the ones he likes.  For the most part, I lead, but there are some steep or rocky sections, where I let Cowboy choose the path, and he always gets us where we need to go.  Opening and closing gates--the tap-tap on his side--he scoots over a wee bit. A gentle squeeze--he takes one step--a gentle squeeze--another step.  He hears me softly say, "Whoooaaaa," and he stands still enough that I can reach down to the chain and unlatch the gate.

Dancing with Cowboy wasn't always this easy or fun, but it is  now.  I wish I'd been a more patient partner in the early days, but he has been forgiving.  Nowadays, we dance as much as we can to keep his body going in his older age. 

****

Leah.

It struck me that I'd been stepping on Leah's toes a lot as we've been learning to dance together.  She's a gentle soul, takes everything deeply, doesn't want to make missteps--and I need to honor that. 

Yesterday, we danced on the ground first.  I worked with her at a trot, in circles, all around the arena.  We danced over the poles, around the barrels, along the rail.  She was a lovely partner.

I wanted a plan in saddle.  What dance would be learning?  Which steps did we need to learn?

I decided the dance was opening the gate (without actually opening the gate), and the steps would be moving off my leg and learning the gentle--one step forward--stop and rest--one more step forward--stop and rest--side pass, side pass--rest--don't be frightened of me bending over--rest--don't be frightened of the sound of the chain clinking against metal--rest. We could call this the waltz, and our practice a dry run.  No music.  No putting the steps all together.  Just work at learning the subtle shifting, counting--gentle pushing away and pulling in.

******

Beautiful Girl.

If you can't dance well together on the ground, how can you possibly dance well in the saddle? 

Bee had a week off, and she was on edge.  She wants to learn to dance, but but she thinks she knows the dance already--and constantly attempts to take the lead from me.  Her dance is one of self-preservation--I heard a sound, let's get the hell out of here!  She is in the early stages of the steps: getting used to the feel of bridle and bit, the tug of a rein, the pressure of a leg, the weight of a rider. 

Yesterday, we worked on the ground dance.  At first her trot was fast and fearful, but we twirled around the arena in circles until she slowed down and tuned into her dance partner.  At that point, she watched the up and down of my left hand as it urged her to continue forward over poles and tires.  She felt the tug of my right hand guiding her forward, then into a circle, then forward, then over a pole, then forward, then into a circle--and so on. 

We have quite a few steps to learn together, but working with her, and the others, is my happy place.  Why rush the dance?  Those older couples you see on the dance floor probably didn't look so great when they were first learning.  The element of TIME is essential. Forgiveness.  Togetherness. And just plain wanting to dance together in the first place. 

This is not wasted time. 

It's precious time.

A Horse to Heal a Heart

I had a guest and horse helper for the last few days, my nine year old grand-niece.

She washed Lily, the pony. She helped me trim her bridle path.  She led her through the obstacles in my arena.

My grand-niece lost her mom last year about this time, and as you can imagine, it has been a painful journey for her. But she loves the horses.  Horses heal hearts.

In fact, I know a horse who lost his mom, too.

Cowboy hasn't ever been a kid's horse or, for that matter, given kids rides at all.  When I first put her on his back, he looked unsure.

But after some wither scratches and rubs along his mane, he was melting in her hands.

He even allowed her to lead him through the obstacles.

I was proud of Cowboy.

My grand-niece now lives with my sister and her husband--her grandparents--and we plan to get her up here to the horses as much as possible.

There is a non-profit center in her town that helps children who are grieving.  It's called the Willow Center.

They meet every week and then have an annual summer camp for the kids.

There is currently an internet competition going on for a charity to receive a $5,000 donation and the Willow Center is vying for 1st place with three others.  Please click on this link-- Willow Center for Grieving Children --and click a vote for Willow Springs.  They don't ask for any information and you can vote from anywhere.  You can also vote every day!  If you can take a second and help them out, I thank you!  My grand-niece, and many more children who have lost moms, dads, sisters and brothers, are being helped tremendously. 

And, a little horse time doesn't hurt either!

Spring, You Came Back to Me

It appears spring and I are still a thang.  I thought spring had broken up--ended the relationship--but she came back and acted like nothing ever happened.  Of course, I wanted to ask her why--why she'd just walked out like that, but then, I didn't want to piss her off and have her walk out again.  So, I'm willing to take her back--this time--without an apology.  

Yesterday was warm and glorious.  I rode in the morning, with Cowboy...

And, I was part of a trail clinic that night.

Cowboy is experiencing a lot of head shaking this year.  I'm giving him his medication (carbamazepine, for seizure, and bute, for foot arthritis after broken, displaced P3 10 years ago) and waiting for it to subside, but it's tough to manage.  He benefits from being used, so I try to keep him comfortable and keep him working.  You could say that's my answer to everything, and you'd be about 75% right.  Many horse health issues really do benefit from them moving.  It gets the blood flowing and gets them in shape.  As in people, a sedentary lifestyle is a killer.

Leah hates crossing water, but she'll do anything for me if I do it first.  So yeah, I walked through the puddle in my leather boots, she followed, I got back on, she rode through with no problem.

Foxy, our new well-broke horse, lost her mind at the trail last night.  It was her first time out with us.  She jigged and was just all around bug-eyed nervous.  My husband had to hand her off to our trainer and switch horses.  This is them kissing and making up at the end.  Today, my daughter and I are taking her back out there to try again.

See that white butt way up ahead in the trees?  That is Leah.  She walks out fast, and that is about all anyone ever sees of her.  I like a fast walking horse, and it seems to rub off on every horse I ride.  I must send them vibes.

Here we are switching out the horses.

The day before, I worked with Leah in her side reins--from the ground.  I'm trying to build up her top line.  I only work her in very small increments on the line, then I take the side reins off and do the rest in saddle.  It helps her to know what I'm looking for without the added pressure of having a rider aboard.

An update on the trailering (see previous post about making trailering safe) Leah has become a pro in the trailer since I did that work with her--tying her up and feeding her in it while I trained the other horses.  She could probably use a refresher in between trailering her to work just to mix it up and keep her solid.

DIY Hoof Poultice & a Few Miscellaneous Photos & Thoughts

Here's a trail blooper from a ride yesterday morning, the photos I don't usually share, but probably should. Something is wrong.  Can you see it?

Here's the photo you usually see.  Cowboy's eye seems to say, I like the other photo better, mom.

More pictures from the 1st day releasing Foxy.  Can you tell what's happening in this photo?

Here is the same scene with a little more close-up view.

And a ride with Cowboy from last week.  Riverside State Park--the same park where I rode with Leah in the Heaven, I'm in Heaven post.

This is the same spot I took the photo with Leah.

My herd is still sorting it out with Foxy.  We have a very strong mare herd dynamic--they can hear each other think--and it takes a bit to get a new mare synchronized.

I'm also nursing an abscess with Little Joe.  It popped in his frog this week.  I used the Animalintex poultice pads, wrapped in duct tape, to draw it out. They're kind of spendy, especially when they just fall off from bad wrapping.  I lost 3 of the 6 pads!  My trainer uses a diaper (cut to fit), with nitrofurazone and epsom salts, duct taped onto the hoof.  A little DIY poultice idea.

Today, since it has popped, I'm going to soak it in warm water and epsom salts and pack it with sugardine (sugar and iodine).  He's been getting my wraps off pretty easily, so I'm going to vet wrap it up and over his ankle and then reinforce it with duct tape around the hoof area, to keep it dry.

My neighbor delivered a truck load of cedar chips to me last weekend, out of the blue, no charge.  Can you believe it?  I was in need of wood chips, too.

The weather is cold, wet and blustery up here in the Northwest, and I feel like I'm always cold, but I'm going to bundle up and go out to ride Leah today.  I have a new obstacle I'm going to work on and that I'll share with you in a later post.

Happy Birthday, Cowboy, My Crazy Heart Horse

Happy birthday to my crazy heart-horse, Cowboy. He was 22 on March 7, 2017.  As far as I know, he is the oldest in our herd now.  Penny may be older, since she's a non-registered horse, and most non-registered are likely to be a little older than they say when they sell them to you.  But as far as papers are concerned, Cowboy is officially the oldest.

Cowboy was born on a ranch in St. Maries, Idaho.  His birth occurred when the family was out shopping, and when they arrived home, they saw him out with another mare who had stolen him from his mama.  A month later, his mama died after getting her neck stuck in a feeder, and Cowboy ended up being a bottle-fed orphan.

Bottle-fed orphans are unique because it's not the natural or best way to raise a foal, but he has the biggest heart and loves people.  In his best moments he is the most amazing horse. Though, he'll never be a kid's horse because he does have that unpredictable, scaredy-cat side.

Cowboy is a survivor--he's 10 years past a broken and displaced front coffin bone.  There is arthritis in the coffin joint, but Cowboy pushes through and still carries me on the trails.

Last weekend, I was bringing home some of the horses from the clinic next door and Cowboy came running along the fence line whinnying at them--just like Old Red used to do.  My daughter and I couldn't believe out eyes.  Is Cowboy stepping up into Red's role?  Time will tell.

Here's to Cowboy--my golden (almost) oldie.