Horse Challenges At Home: Toddler Energy

We received our photos from Britt Harvey Photography, and I’ll be adding them to the next few posts, starting with a few of my grandson, the topic of this post, The Challenges Working Horses At Home. 

Generally, I prefer to haul to our local equestrian area because it is easier to keep Tweed’s attention and they have so many great obstacles and trails. Last fall, however, I put up a round pen and had more sand brought in so that I could start working here. Yikes, all the distractions!

It has been much more challenging with the other horses, the green pasture, our dogs…and our grandson. 

Grandson energy! Two year old vibes even rattle steady Eddie Foxy. 

But she gets it done. 

The horses are very interested in him, and…cautious. 

Last night I was working with Tumbleweed in the round pen and grandson was in the arena throwing sand. He was all over the place, with his mom watching. Lots. Of. Energy. 

Tumbleweed was tuned into him, but I thought it would be a good distraction to work through. Oddly, Tweed was refusing to lope. He wanted to stop and stand and, if he could, watch the toddler. It went on like that for a long time, the start, stop and watch. 

I finally had an epiphany that perhaps he was nervous that the grandson would somehow appear in the round pen, and he didn’t want to run him over. So, I asked my daughter to contain grandson a little further away. 

Voila. That was it. 

Tumbleweed started moving out freely and giving me his attention. 

Good Tweed. 

We finished up, did a cool off period with Masterson Method and ended on a good note. I went back to the barn later with grandson, (we were out there a lot last night because of the Northern Lights show) and stood in Tweed’s stall as grandson ran up and down the aisles with grandpa. Tweed was curious, cautious, and a little nervous. I petted on him, and he gave some big releases, then finally relaxed around grandson. 

This is a great opportunity to help Tumbleweed know how to handle himself around kiddos who have a lot of unpredictable chaos energy. 

When I went out to work with him this morning, he was absolutely golden. His lope to trot transitions came fast and he did great in saddle. That was evidence to me that I had read the situation correctly. 

Working Tweed at home has had its ups and downs, but I think that it was a necessary missing piece to our training: work where there is the most temptation, distraction, and …chaos. 

I am back to riding because my saddle is finished, and looks oh so beautiful! More on that later. 

I’ll leave you with a photo of last night’s… AURORA Borealis, looking at our barn. 

The Compound Effect for Horsemanship

I’m reading a book called, The Compound Effect. It was recommended by my son to my husband, and he finished it in a day.

He writes about how life is like putting money in a retirement account. For a long time you don’t see the benefit, but after awhile, it takes off. Big life changes are mostly made with small steps. You’re more likely to follow through with small changes. 

I took a week off from riding, and then had a lesson, and you could see how the opposite had occurred. Tweed and I lost some ground. First off, I couldn't believe it had been a week. It went by so fast, and I couldn't remember what I did until I took time to piece it together--an overnight trip, some bad weather, lots of babysitting, ...poof! Gone!

Tweed seemed off, and my trainer was trying to figure out if it was just a bad day or if it was the tack. He had gotten his first set of shoes on which can sometimes make him grumpy. Perhaps, that was it...or just wanting to be out on pasture eating grass.

We also checked out my saddle and found a little divet about at the left shoulder. The wool is largely rubbed away there. Perhaps, that was it....or just wanting to eat grass.

My saddle is pretty old. I’ve used it for over 20 years, and it came from a roper who had also used it pretty hard. I love it, even though it weighs as much as my horse. You get used to riding in one saddle, and it's hard to change.

I took it into our local saddle shop and he said he could pound down the divet and / or replace the sheep skin, which requires taking it apart. He didn't seem to think it mattered much either way, since I use a thick wool pad. 

I did some research afterward, and apparently the sheep skin was used under saddles because all they had way back in the early days were saddle blankets which were inferior to our modern day pads.

I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to be without my saddle during riding season, but he said he could have it done in 4 days and he’d fix anything else that it needed, plus oil it, for $300. It seemed like a bargain. Yeehaw! I get to keep my old saddle for a while longer.

Circling back to the book, and this concept of doing something small everyday, since I am saddleless, it’s a perfect time for groundwork. I realized that I'd somehow gotten into the bad habit, even though I know better, of making every session with Tumbleweed big.  That's great if you have lots of time everyday, but if you have limited time, the habit of going big can cause paralysis. In other words, it's time to think small again.

My goals this week have been simple: lope to trot transitions and the disengagement dance.

I saw a Buck Brannaman reel on Facebook that was just beautiful.

He calls it the half circle exercise. 

It's actually an exercise Regina had me do with Tumbleweed when he was 2 and 3 because he was getting worked up at her barn and sticky in front. It gets them moving and thinking and respecting your space. When I saw it set to music with the drone overhead, Buck had created something like a dance, and I wanted to circle back and do better with it myself.  When we get it down, I'll share a video...maybe even set it to music. 

I'll also have photos of the new wool on my saddle and an update about the book when I finish it. I could kick myself for not taking a before photo of the saddle. Grrr.  

Permission to Be Wonky

It’s amazing how much overlap there is in everything important we do. For example, I am back to studying the flute, and one of the first things I was told is not to worry about sounding perfect, but instead experiment and allow my notes to be wonky, even ugly. By allowing experimentation you also find your tone, form, rhythm, and unique voice and style. 

Horsemanship is the same way. Like allowing our horses to make mistakes and find the right answer themselves, we also have to give ourselves permission to be wonky if we ever want to get to something beautiful and unique. 

I have really leaned into that concept this year, giving up expectations and even old muscle memory, and trying to become a blank slate where Tumbleweed and I can choreograph our own unique dance, song, rhythm, movement, responses, and life together. 

(Tweed: yep, sometimes I get a little scared. I’m not embarrassed to admit it either.)

One of these things is how he spooks and what spooks him.

I really don’t want to bring old baggage into a new relationship by predicting, or expecting, based upon my other horses. 

Also, I don’t want to stop it or try to hold him back too much. 

I want to find it, then get through it—together. 

I want to see it, not stop it. 

I think last year I wanted to pre-empt and stop it. I was clinging to an illusion of control, rather than a confidence in our partnership. They sense it when we are trying to control too much, and they don’t like it. It makes them nervous and even lack trust and confidence in being together. 

That’s what aaaaallllllll this work is about, I want to be able to ride his reaction, and when he has that reaction, (because he will) I want him to be used to what it feels like with me on his back. 

If he canters off, ride it. 

If he side passes away, ride it. 

And bring him back to work as soon as possible. 

My body and balance change every year, and so does his, so in many ways we are both starting from scratch. 

Patience is the key, and it’s hard. I cannot tell you how many trail rides I’ve been invited on, but take a pass because I don’t want to push too far, too fast. I know my limits and his, and I don’t want to put either of us in a dangerous situation.

The one question I ask myself is this: can I ride out whatever happens on the trail?

Right now the honest answer is NO, but I’m starting to see ‘yes’ at the end of the tunnel. 

There hasn’t been much spooking to report, or any, but the other day a friend stopped by to see me, and she came bearing Starbucks! Yay! I didn’t realize it, but she also took out her phone to record some video, and somehow startled, rather than ‘spooked’ Tweed. I was so thankful she did! She felt really bad and asked if she should move. I was like, no, please stay right there! He didn’t startle/spook again, but it gave us something to work past.

This is such a small little blip, but it does demonstrate how well balanced he is now, even when reacting, and how quickly he goes back to his job. 

There is a clinic in June geared specifically for trail obstacles, and I’m going to sign us up. Cowboy hated these kinds of clinics, but done right, and I will make sure it is or walk out, they can be an opportunity for growth.

Problems and Solutions

Lessons, lessons. 

I requested that my trainer, Regina, fit us in as often as possible through April and May to help us prepare for a summer / fall of trail riding. 

The issues we had last year, which caused me to reach out for help from Regina, were these:

1. Tumbleweed got anxious between gait changes and didn’t want to take up, or continue, the lope / canter. 

2. He got agitated going down steep hills on his first trail ride, and wanted to run home. 

3. Once, after a sweaty workout, and as we were standing watching another horse, he buckled his legs and wanted to drop for a roll. I jumped off and made him get back up. 

4. My daughter and grandson, and really the whole family,  had a life emergency, and it required more of my time and mental / emotional energy that took away from my focus on Tumbleweed. 

5. He was also rooting at the bit a lot. 

I reached out for help from the very best, and she answered my call.  

I wasn’t exactly sure where all our training was going last year, but I trusted the process, and this year it is all coming together.  I can see why she laid the foundation for longitudinal and lateral suppleness and balance. It is giving him confidence. 

This year, Regina said we should start from scratch because he is a new horse with a new body, and we want a clean slate. Tweed, however, remembered where we’d left off, and he is much more confident in his 2024 body. We’ve had 3 lessons, and a few independent work sessions, and he’s taking off. 

The training this year has concentrated on getting him to transition from trot to lope to trot, keep the gait, and not to fuss getting into it. No bucking, kicking, dropping, taking up wrong leads, or looking out of the pen. If he does any of that, I turn him and have him lope off the opposite direction.  That’s it. The energy stays the same, very relaxed, and the expectation remains the same…until he finds the answer. 

The same work is done in saddle. Keep him moving forward at the same pace, but keep my hands and reins steady, allowing him to find his space and figure out how to carry himself. Keeping the reins firm, and allowing to find his space and balance, also keeps him from rooting at the bit and dropping his head too low.  

Last Wednesday, we added turns on the haunches against the rail, the lateral work we had been introducing, then trotting off the opposite direction. Tweed took up the lope, instead, and Regina said that I should keep going and pretend it was my idea. 

He has the cutest little rocking horse lope! I’m not used to riding one like it yet. It’s like Tumbleweed is my new dance partner, but I haven’t figured out his best dance moves. 

Like learning to dance, there is a lot to think about. My head is spinning with information—legs, hands, seat, shoulders, balance. His attention, speed, confusion, …and my trainer’s instructions. Sometimes, it feels like I’ve never ridden a horse before. 

Very humbling…and rewarding. 

Here are videos of our last session. 

This section is lateral flexion, but only one step at a time, then I am to return to the neutral position. Tweed has to take responsibility for his body, getting more upright and solid in his corners, then be ready to see what I want next. Balance. Lateral suppleness. Attention. Cooperation. 

Video: Lateral Flexion

The next section is lope to trot transitions and keeping up the gait. 

Video: Lope to trot transitions 

The last video is saddle work. Here we have worked on turns on the haunches and forehand, and we’re putting it to work against the rail at a trot. This is where Tweed takes up the rocking horse lope. 

Video: Turn on haunches, lateral yield, against rail. 

I love this work and how far Tumbleweed (and I) have come in a week with Regina. 

I want to add a thought about rolling. On our second lesson, Tweed got worked up because I turned the other horses out to pasture, but not him. We didn’t do any saddle work that day, but instead concentrated on trot lope transitions and attention. At the end of that session, he wanted to roll, and I had unhaltered him. Regina told me not to let him roll as long as I was still in the round pen. 

Because he has a history of wanting to roll inappropriately, she wants me to have very clear boundaries. He can only roll when I leave his area and he is sure there is no more that will be asked of him. She said she wouldn’t usually be that picky, but we’re being extra careful. 

There is a video of work I did alone, Tuesday, where my friend who had stopped by to watch and take a video, captured Tweed spooking when he trotted past her. I’ll share that in my next post, but basically, Regina looked at the footage and thought he did really well controlling himself and getting back to work. That was the first, and only, spook of this season. 

Tumbleweed is trying really hard for me, and I love him for it. I won the horse lottery with this boy. 

****

On another note, I have to sing the praises of these sandals, too. 

Chacos. 

On our last day in Sedona we hiked to the Birthing Cave, then 2.5 miles to Chapel of the Holy Cross, then 2 more miles back to our car, and later a short walk around our neighborhood. 

In total, it was 11.5 miles, and I walked it all barefoot in Chacos sandals. They were stable, had good traction, and supported my high arches. They’re kind of a miracle sandal. 

Home

Not to sound weird, but…you know you’re in love with your horse when you leave off working with him, but you don’t want to wash your hands, shirt, jeans—or anything that still has his smell. 

We’ve come to that point. 

When I look back, it is the smell I remember most about them. My heart horses. The memory of it transports me through time. Way back. To my happiest of happy places.  

And now it is Tumbleweed who I’m learning. 

Awww, love. 

****

This post is going to be random thoughts. 

Let me start on our most recent trip to Arizona, where we took to the road to scout out potential winter places. 

First, Sedona. 

I love the red rocks. 

There’s a scripture in The Bible where Moses asks God what he should be called, and he answers, “I am that I am.”

When I see the red rocks I feel like I’m seeing the fingerprint of the Creator. Evidence left behind. Proof that there is a divine being, and all it requests of us is that we first recognize  its existence. 

I am. 

You are. 

Everything else falls in place. 

How does it happen? I do not know. But it happens to millions who go there every year. 

I ran into a “local” at a trailhead to the Birthing Cave, a recent transplant, and she told me it is the work of the vortexes. I told her I don’t believe in them. 

Oops. 

Don’t question the vortexes. 

When I got back from the walk, she had put a card on my car door, and wrote:

Vortexes = spiritual energy amplification. 

Okay. Maybe. 

Yet,…does this need amplification?

I don’t think so. 

Here’s another caveat. 

Another local transplant commented that she liked my hat. 

Then she said that I “played the part well.”

Cough. Cough. 

No honey, it is Sedonites playing the part of me. What you see is what you get. 

But I get her point, she thinks everyone visiting Sedona is a caricature of either the western theme or the metaphysical crystals, psychics, vortexes—seeker. 

The town has 10,000 residents, yet hosts 3.5 million people a year. On weekends, the traffic is backed up for miles and miles to get there. 

Is it worth it? Yes! But go in the off-season. Live there? Well, they tell me that there is a thriving community and they learn to exist around the tourism, but it’s too much for me. 

I will remain a…caricatured tourist. 

Our next stop was Prescott, Arizona, which proudly boasts “The World’s Oldest Rodeo.” (And Whisky Row.)

There was a whole street of old saloons, like this one. 

We really liked Prescott, but it’s kind of out there, and the winters, though warmer than Spokane’s, are still too cold. 

Next stop, Wickenburg, AZ, also a rodeo town, and the winter roping Mecca for horse people. 

Wickenburg was the only place we saw people out riding the trails. 

It was a very cute town, and checks all of our boxes, but to live the way we’d want to live there would require making it our primary residence, and that isn’t happening. 

All roads lead home to Spokane. 

A place where wearing a straw hat and cowboy boots still isn’t playing a part. 

A place where you can dust off those boots, put on a clean pair of jeans and shirt, and attend a world class symphony. 

Or drink some world class wine. 

Our place. 

A place we often see fingerprints of the divine eternal, …

But no vortexes.