Well, well, well, our girl, Epona, is home. She became a stall pacer at training and wore out her shoes in 4 1/2 weeks. (I guess she is a horse who prefers pasture turnout.) Our trainer moved her into a much larger stall that had an open side (no adjoining horse) and that finally settled her, just in time to come home.
Other than that, she did awesome and my daughter was able to ride her, with Epona leading out, on the trails and farm fields before we packed her up to go.
Our trainer is one of those rare gems who under promises and over delivers. She is also a truth teller, and doesn’t sugarcoat anything. You know where the holes are and where the strengths are. This will be helpful information at the upcoming clinic.
Unfortunately, the saddle we had for her doesn’t fit properly, so now we are on a search for one that will fit her. My main saddle does, of course, because it fits almost every horse, but it is rigged for Tumbleweed right now, thus, spoken for. They used it yesterday for their trail ride. Our trainer remarked about how heavy it is. Indeed. And there might be a day I can’t swing it onto a horse’s back. Until then, as my daughter told her yesterday, you will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands.
At home, Epona had eyes for Tumbleweed, and mama didn’t like that.
Mama might win the battle, but she’s going to lose the war, because there’s no keeping these young guns from one another. It’s a biological reality: mama can’t compete with this:
There are two parts to this post: 1) a lesson recap, and 2) an upcoming clinic this Saturday.
Tweed and I had a lesson yesterday, Monday, and it was a hot one. Temperatures got to 90 degrees, maybe a little more. Because of the heat, we kept it to walk and trot work and only went 45 minutes. Tweed was doing excellent in the heat, but it was beating up on me, and I had to cry uncle. We still accomplished a lot.
Leah was, once again, there to look pretty and distract Tweed outside of the arena. She is so smart. When she realized my husband wasn’t coming, and it was two horses with only one human, she literally flew into the trailer like a unicorn. She has always self-loaded, but never with so much gusto. She really likes her “job,” and I mean REALLY likes it.
In fact, Leah has become my happiest horse around the house, period. She can’t go out on pasture, so she is hand fed everyday and mostly isolated with Cowgirl in the dry lot turnout. She is getting a lot of attention, and she loves it.
Back to the lesson. I rode Tweed both directions around the arena as his warmup. The kid crew was back, a different one this time, and he was nervous going by them. There were about 20 unpredictable, and loud, children along the north fence line. The north fence line instantly became his scary place.
Regina had me ride back and forth along that fence line until he was okay with it. I was to sit deep, always deep, pressing my butt to the ground deep, and hold elasticity in the short reins, hands out in front, rather than braced against my abdomen. Asking, giving, asking giving, and waiting for him to take responsibility for himself on a loose rein.
When we got that, we moved out to the barrels and she took Leah away while I worked on a circle. He got trippy, not paying attention to his feet, so I turned him and continued to ask for vertical flexion. When he had it, I’d give him the loose reins.
Next, we moved to trot, but it was fast and rough, and I had to post it. Regina wanted to let him burn off some steam. But then she changed strategy and told me to step back and ask for the fastest WALK I could get from him. Really push him to a high gear that required all of his effort and engaged his hind end. She wanted him to decide to move into the easier gait of a collected trot on his own. It worked. He did it. We got a lovely, slow trot that I could sit deep and ride.
At that point she told me to ride to the furthest end of the arena away from Leah and rest him.
We rested in the shade at the scary fence line. It wasn’t scary anymore. In fact, he loved it.
Lastly, we walked toward Leah who was outside the south fence line, and asked for a smooth whoa. Got it. Dismounted.
As I said above, Tweed was great, but I was pretty exhausted from riding that fast walk, which required all I had to push for it, and thirsty, too.
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There’s a horsemanship clinic coming up next Saturday, July 12.
We are going down Thursday to get Epona and Shiloh plans to ride her on the trail with our trainer.
Our plan is the take her and Tumbleweed for a mother / daughter day with the horses.
They got back to me today and said we can choose between a half day clinic or a full day. I’m leaning towards a half day. I have to decide morning or afternoon, and I’m leaning towards morning. It seems like that would be the beginning training and afternoon could be a continuation for some of the riders. Also, if we felt we would benefit from afternoon, we could decide to stay, if there is room. All day, however, seems like a lot for young horses.
My husband and I made it to the equestrian area with our horses. It was Day 2 ‘back in saddle’ for Leah. I would say it went worse for her, but better for Tumbleweed
When we started off on the ground at the obstacle course, Leah was the rock star.
Teeter Totter
Logs
I loved watching them together. Leah had the sweetest eye for him.
In saddle, however, the roles reversed, and it was Tweed who was the rockstar, and Leah wanted to pick up speed (and ignore my husband) back to the trailer.
This led to a mini-lesson on trail work. I’ll try to recap what I told my husband, and feel free to offer your own insights in the comments.
First off, riding a horse on a straight line with a loose rein is the pinnacle of trail riding. It’s the goal. It rewards both them and us.
However, it also takes a lot of personal responsibility from the horse who would prefer to take control and run the hell back home. It’s unnatural and uncomfortable for them to leave the herd and wander down a dark trail. It goes against all their survival instincts.
I start out on a loose rein, but I look for signals that they’re still with me. Where are their ears pointing? How fast are they walking?
I ‘check in’ with my horse to see if they’re in the thinking part of their brain. The first check in is a light tug on the right or left side of the mouth. If I get an ear that means I still have light communication.
If Yes, I proceed down the trail on a loose rein.
If no, I pick up the reins for contact. If they’ve changed the speed, I ask for the speed I want.
Same questions, and it’s all happening super fast. Do I get an ear? Do they check their speed?
If yes, we go back to a loose rein and proceed.
If it’s a no, as in no ear and no checked speed, I give them a job.
My goal is to always, and I mean always, keep them tuned in and thinking. Every single time I cut a corner and thought, oh, you’re being too nit picky, it has bit me in the butt with something bigger happening.
I told my husband that pulling on the reins alone dams up the energy, and it is going to explode. They’re not trying to be mean, or even disrespectful, they’ve just switched into flight mode for survival and, unless we can bring them back to the thinking, non-reactive side of the brain, we will see an explosion of that energy in a jump, buck, rear, head shaking, kicking, or run away.
I also told my husband that if all else fails and you cannot get them in a working frame of mind, they usually give you a few seconds to dismount with a one rein stop, and there is no harm in that. In fact, it can be a much better option. Not a great one, because they will remember it, but better than some other alternatives.
I broke the news to my husband: hey, we’re probably not going to make it very far down the trail tonight, and that’s okay. We’re going to take the time and do it right. If we need to stop and give them a job, it’s okay. They have to know this isn’t a straight line RACE track. It’s a job that they’re doing with us. It’s unpredictable and they need to stay connected to the human leader and be ready for whatever we ask. No auto pilot allowed. (This is why I have ridden alone in the past. It’s a lot to ask of a friend to sit and watch you school the trails. My husband, however, is happy to do it.)
Off we went. I tried to stay behind to keep an eye on hubby and Leah, but it wasn’t too long and we were riding separately through trees, going our own way and doing a “job.”
At one point, I could barely see Leah, and T was still tuned into me and the work. BIG WIN. I was guiding him in circles, around trees, through brush, up and down little hills, and he was paying attention to his feet and the light contact.
We were in saddle for an hour and a half, and it was all fun work.
Afterwards, as we sat and had wine at the trailer and let the horses rest, I reflected on riding the trails with Leah, who has had so much time off, versus a more solid trail horse. I kind of like it. As I watch my husband try to figure it out, all the things my trainer taught me make more sense. It’s so hard to see what she’s saying when it’s me struggling. But a very bright lightbulb went off watching my husband go through it.
Also, there is good and bad to following a steady Eddie down the trail. It is easier to follow, but we also want them to be independent. What I saw from Tweed when he couldn’t see Leah (and didn’t look for her) was that budding independence I’ve been working so hard to foster.
As we talked, my husband said how much he enjoyed it, too. He said he could do this kind of trail work for the rest of the summer and be totally happy.
That’s good, because I don’t want to put a time limit on setting a solid trail foundation. Every journey is totally unique to the horse and rider.
And it’s all about that journey, not the destination.
Extra credit:
This is my trail training in stick figures:
Figure (A) says Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont wrapped into one. First horse around the loop and back to the trailer wins the triple crown. All you need is someone to shoot off a gun and open the gates.
Figure (B) says we don’t know where we’re going, maybe into the woods, maybe back home, but we sure like walking around trees. Ultimately, the trees, “the work,” are the destination.
I had a busy two weeks entertaining family. Lots of family. In fact, almost our entire combined family. Everyone traveled at once, and converged, at various times, upon our house.
That meant the horses were off for two weeks because I did not have even one spare moment to play with them. At one point, the grandkids asked if we could have horse time, but that day I was making a brunch and then dinner for 25-30.
It was a super fun whirlwind of activity, and I was tired, but as the last guest was pulling out, yesterday morning, I hooked up my truck to the horse trailer and headed out to meet Regina with Tweed and Leah.
Tweed was amped up after that much time off, but Leah knew her only job was to stand and look pretty, which she did so well that I had to snap this photo.
There was some huge group of kids right behind Leah in that photo. They parked themselves there all day and were running all over the place and being super loud and unpredictable. It was an organized group of some sort, but I don’t know what their goal was there or why they chose the equestrian area. At any rate, they made a good training opportunity.
We worked on all the same stuff we usually do, seeing how long Tweed could maintain his frame on a loose rein (2-3 steps) and then collect him back into vertical flexion. Regina found that turning him in a wide circle (in vertical flexion) then immediately asking for the canter as we ended the circle, set him up best for collection. She was telling me to do that, but I kept confusing her directions and trotting onto the circle for a bit, then asking for canter. When I finally understood her, we had beautiful trot to canter transitions.
I had plans with my husband after our lesson to ride Leah and Tweed on the trail. In retrospect, it was a dumb idea since he had never rode Leah (she was only ever ridden by me) and Leah hadn’t even been ridden AT ALL in 2-3 years. You can imagine her shock when her job description quickly shifted from looking pretty to figuring out what in the hell this new rider wanted of her.
And off we go!
Leah walks out fast. She’s a big horse, I always had her ride lead, and she was amped up with my husband. Tweed could barely keep up, and we often had to trot to catch up.
We went along pretty well for a while, but eventually we ran across a party of four horses and riders and Leah wanted to follow them home. She started to pull that direction and escape my husband’s control. I was paying so much attention to them that I couldn’t focus on Tweed, but he was getting equally amped up. I asked my husband if he felt safe enough to dismount and walk the rest of the way with her so that I could school Tweed in the trees.
My thinking is that Leah is already a trail horse, I rode her all over for many years, but she and him need time together in a controlled environment. Tweed, on the other hand, is somewhat new to trail riding, and his schooling takes priority.
With my husband safely on the ground and Leah back to only looking pretty, I began my work. I would check in with T, but if I didn’t get a response, I’d ask for vertical flexion, if he acted upset about that, we’d circle into the trees and work, then go back out on the trail and repeat. It worked really well, and he got back into his thinking brain.
The ride was about 45 minutes, which is rather short (but eventful) and I didn’t want them to think coming back to the trailer was a reward, so we went to work again—for Tweed it was a repeat of the morning class, plus riding over the obstacle course, and then in the arena with a new horse (a friend of mine arrived) and Leah (who my husband had finally figured out with my direction) and for Leah, it was round pen work, then arena.
Leah’s issue was speed. She wanted to control the speed by breaking into a trot and taking control. My husband kept pulling on the reins and asking her to “walk.” I rode Tweed over to them and gave him a mini lesson on my old girl. When she speeds up, turn her in a wide (keyword: WIDE) circle and back the other direction. Do it immediately when she picks up the trot.
Of course, it worked like a charm because Leah is inherently lazy AND smart, and she knows the drill. When we went into the arena, he did the same thing and it didn’t take long before he had a solid citizen. They looked really good together at the end, but I didn’t get a photo.
My husband had so much fun with her that he wants to go again this afternoon and work on those basics and a little trail work. I think it gave him a new appreciation for foundational work, since he is so used to riding the dead broke grandkid horses who you just point down the trail while you drink a beer. Leah has been that horse for me, but after so long a time off, he has to earn it with her.
By the time we were finished, Tweed had been working for 3 hours, and he was more than happy to cock a leg and fall asleep.
My husband had brought a bottle of wine, which we also shared with the friend who had showed up.
I am so happy my husband is enjoying horses again and is excited to ride with me because the next phase of making Tumbleweed a full fledged trail horse is going to take a lot of riding WITH another horse, and a lot of Leah looking pretty while we work out the kinks. I think she’s going to love her new job. It will require a lot of standing around watching Tumbleweed do all the work. Every horse LOVES to be in that role. Haha.
On the two year anniversary of “the day our life changed,” I choose to celebrate the wins. There are so many miracles and “wins” that I will only cover a few, but just know that despite the adversities, we have been blessed beyond what we deserve.
1. I’m alive! We’re all alive! That might seem an easy accomplishment, but it really isn’t. I’m so thankful we’re all alive! And, as an addendum, my body is healed up, too. Yay!
2. Though my time with Tumbleweed became rarer, and my mind was in survival mode, I didn’t give up. I reached out for help, and we kept growing together. Now we are ready to fly.
Sometimes in life we might be forced to take *seemingly small steps, just never stop taking steps. “The journey of a thousand miles…”
3. I picked up the flute again after 40 years and began to breathe my stories & songs into that magical instrument I had never fully appreciated.
I had my first recital last Sunday, and was not afraid to play in front of others. The song I chose was Amazing Grace, which was perfect.
When you are tense, and life throws so much at you at once, much of it out of your control, you really do have to stop and breathe. A lot. Often. Always.
Playing the flute reminded me to breathe everyday, and from that breath, even find beauty (and healing) in the musical vibrations coming back to me. There are several studies about how music heals at the cellular level. I felt it happening in me these last two years. Thank God for music! It has saved me, body and soul, more than once.
4. I have a deeper love for my husband, deeper respect, deeper trust, and deeper thankfulness. I didn’t think that was possible after 23 years. Hardships have the power to draw you closer or break you apart, we drew closer.
5. I am thankful for my barn and barn garden, the sanctuary that was started two weeks after it all happened, and finished as daughter and grandson moved home with us, just in time to further help the healing process.
The last two years have taught me, yet again, that you can’t escape suffering in life. It happens to everyone, no matter how perfectly you try to organize your life, or hide from it. Suffering, and sadness, will find you.
But in your suffering and sadness, you can also find an otherworldly grace, …and miracles, many of them, all over the place, everywhere you look.
They are our love notes from the universe, saying you can do it! You have everything it takes! You are glorious, and you are loved, and you were created for this moment.
