I had a thought. I know, Uh-Oh, she's thinking again. I had a comment about not trusting a horse enough to lay down and fall asleep still holding the rope.
When I'm in trainer mode then I think safety, safety, safety. When I write my stories I'm telling you what I did, but not what I necessarily want to promote as intelligent behavior. Please, please understand I did a lot of really stupid things.
I used to take long rides on Mort. I would stop to take a break. I would lay back and tie one rein around my ankle. Then I would doze. Or eat my lunch, or whatever. Think about this for a minute.
I was self-taught in so many ways. I had already been a trainer for at least two years before I started getting regular help. I learned my craft in an extremely bass-ackward way.
I guess what I'm getting at is, do as I say, not as I write, OK?
Badges Blues N Jazz sent me this ages ago, another one of my record keeping errors. Sorry Blues, there's a reason I'm not a file clerk.
http://trainingbadgesbluesnjazz.blogspot.com/
Summing It Up
Well, I figure its time to sum up what I have got so far in this blog. Of course I will continue with it, I just wanted to sum up the past year in one post. If that's possible.
So, I buy my "dream horse" who was a product of the breeding farm that I had yearned to buy from but couldn't afford. Bought her off her second owner for a steal.
With fresh dreams of training her from start to finish all by myself, and how wonderfully broke she was going to be and how bonded we would be.
Pick her up and shes a body score of MAYBE 2, and skittish as hell.
Do ground work, pony her, lunge her, had her side passing, moving hindquarters and forehand on the ground, hauled her out to show her cows, drove her etc etc.
A warning bell had kind of gone off in my head on how whenever she was left for a few days, it would be like starting all over again.
I chose to ignore it and proceeded to get on her and walk a few steps shortly before she turned 2. Did it a second time, 3 min TOPS.
Then, the third time, just got settled in the saddle and BAM, she exploded into a bucking bronc. Landed on my back, winded.
Was nervous of a repeat performance, so sent her to a friend to put a few rides on her. He had his wife lead him around. 1st ride, great, 2nd ride, great, 3rd ride? BAM, explosion. 1 pulled groin later, she is back at my place.
I continue to do groundwork but am too scared to ride. I would get brave enough to put a foot in the stirrup, and she would EXPLODE backwards, sometimes. Not all the time. September of her 2 year old year, I decided she was to much for me. Traded her off for something else and regretted it the moment she was gone.
Spent four sleepless months plotting on how to get her back. Finally, had to use my credit card to buy her back at a ridiculous price.
Hubby had a HUGE blow out, he hated Jazz and couldn't fathom WHY I would want her back. They said she had 2 months training. NOT. Finally got a hold of their 18 year old trainer who said she had put a MONTH on her AND got kicked in the stomach by her which made her unable to ride for 2 weeks. Hmmmmmm.
More warning bells you ask? Nope, I was just happy to have her back.Got her back on December 24th and put a ride at a walk on her on Dec 30th. Yea, she was still SUPER green. Sent her to a trainer, who rode her for 2 weeks, then did 2 weeks of groundwork.
Trainer told me I should sell before I get hurt on her. I couldn't. I was bound and determined to make the dream come true, and began my blog to keep me motivated. I put approx 2-3 months of just walking and trotting on her and started off with my fear at a 20 on a scale of 1-10 and gradually got down to a 9.
She has bucked me off twice since then, but there are also huge milestones of progress. I don't regret it for even an instant. She can be very light and responsive, as well as witchy and stubborn. She has tried EVERY trick in the book which has made me a better rider.
She turned 4 this month, and although she may not be as well trained as a lot of 4- year- olds, I am extremely proud on how far we have come together and the fact that I have been her sole rider for the last year.
Do I get frustrated? Yes! Of course. When I can go trot the barrel pattern on her one day without an issue, and the next day, a barrel on the side of the arena is a horse eating dragon. Or one day she will lope wonderfully slow collected circles with sliding stops, and the next day she will bolt and go 90mph and have no whoa.
How bout that she will go into a herd of cows with absolute passion, and LOVES to chase them, then the next week she is poking her shoulder out and trying to avoid going into the herd? Yea, I get frustrated.
It doesn't mean I will give up. She keeps me on my toes. Just when I get over confidant, she will try a new trick that brings me back to reality that she is a living, breathing, thinking, conniving creature, not a robot.
I love her individuality, and have NEVER come across a horse like her. She has taught me that it doesn't matter what people think, because riding her in a crowd, I am prepared that she may bolt or buck, and there is no way in hell I am going to look pretty riding her, so its best to give up on any sort of pretense that I may actually look like I ride good: sure enough, if I do think "hey, look how good we look" she will poke her shoulder out and bolt halfway across the arena, there is no way to recover your dignity if your hauling back on your reins and kicking like a crazed woman trying to get that shoulder back, or (God forbid) eating a mouthful of dirt, so, I have learned to accept that.
Thankfully, I have not come off her in public yet, but it is just a matter of time. I am prepared to leave my pride at home when I got to events with Jazz and to just enjoy it.I have had to revise my goals a bit. The dream of riding bareback and being "one with my horse" like Stacey Westfall is not to likely to happen with Jazz. Maybe once she is 30 years old, but not anytime in the near future. So, my goals now are to continue with her training and hopefully have her consistent.
My immediate goal is to do this season of cattle penning with her, and then start doing time only's in barrels next year.
I have purchased a yearling that I will transfer the Stacey Westfall dream to, and already I can tell he is NOT another Jazz. I don't want Jazz to every lose all of her 'tude, because its what makes her Jazz, and why I love her.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Sonita/ Here We Are
Even at two in the morning the barn at a major show is always thrumming. The overhead lights stay on 24 hours a day and time becomes meaningless as the show wears on.
Horses look out into the barn aisles and whinny,to their stable mates, to the horse being led past, to their caretakers, to the huge, confusing world of eternal light.
Restless trainers check their horses and the nervous or flat out terrified ride in the half-light of the show pen.
I slipped into Sonita's stall and rubbed her hip, letting my scratching fingers search out her favorite itchy spots. She tweaked her tail in irritation and moved a step from me. She had pulled most of her feed from her feeder and stomped it into the shavings. Her head stayed buried in the corner.
My mare was sick of this place, we had been here a week, she was tired and stressed. She wanted out of the box stall, out of this noisy world that never let her relax, never let her sleep. I knew how she felt, I didn't know how many more nights I could spend in a motel room filled with the smell of dirty clothes, teenage girls, boots, dogs and assorted pieces of tack.
I leaned against her and pushed my icy hands under her blanket. I couldn't figure how it could be cold and muggy at the same time. The joy of winter in Stephenville I guess. Sonita sighed and shifted her weight from one hind foot to the other.
"Let's get out of here, you wanna?"
I grabbed Sonita's halter and tied it on. She plodded behind me, her head hanging, and lugged on the lead.
The foggy night air swirled around us as I led her out of the barns. Sonita threw her head up and drank in the clean air. Wide awake, she jigged by my side and her tail waved and snapped.
We walked back to the trailer and I dug out an extra horse blanket and my Carhart. Sonita kicked her heels in play as I lead her farther into the fields. When the darkness swallowed us and I could just make out the white of her face I stopped.
Sonita stood and looked at me for a few seconds before she dropped her head to graze. I snuggled into my Carhart and spread the horse blanket on the ground.
I lay back on the blanket and watched my mare graze. A kaleidoscope of images went through my head as I watched her. We had been through so much together. We had come so far. My squalling, nasty, bitch of a mare had gotten it together and channeled her incredible energy into where we were right now. It occurred to me I had learned to channel a few things too.
A brief ripple of fear ran through me, but the rhythmical rip and chew, rip and chew, as Sonita grazed in the dark made it easy to put tomorrow off until tomorrow.
She stepped by my blanket and snuffled my hair, making sure to leave plenty of slobber. I reached out to push her nose away and wrapped my hand around her coronet band instead. I could just feel a light pulse beating slow and steady.
I remembered to wrap the lead once around my hand before I slid into sleep. I dreamed of horses running.
Horses look out into the barn aisles and whinny,to their stable mates, to the horse being led past, to their caretakers, to the huge, confusing world of eternal light.
Restless trainers check their horses and the nervous or flat out terrified ride in the half-light of the show pen.
I slipped into Sonita's stall and rubbed her hip, letting my scratching fingers search out her favorite itchy spots. She tweaked her tail in irritation and moved a step from me. She had pulled most of her feed from her feeder and stomped it into the shavings. Her head stayed buried in the corner.
My mare was sick of this place, we had been here a week, she was tired and stressed. She wanted out of the box stall, out of this noisy world that never let her relax, never let her sleep. I knew how she felt, I didn't know how many more nights I could spend in a motel room filled with the smell of dirty clothes, teenage girls, boots, dogs and assorted pieces of tack.
I leaned against her and pushed my icy hands under her blanket. I couldn't figure how it could be cold and muggy at the same time. The joy of winter in Stephenville I guess. Sonita sighed and shifted her weight from one hind foot to the other.
"Let's get out of here, you wanna?"
I grabbed Sonita's halter and tied it on. She plodded behind me, her head hanging, and lugged on the lead.
The foggy night air swirled around us as I led her out of the barns. Sonita threw her head up and drank in the clean air. Wide awake, she jigged by my side and her tail waved and snapped.
We walked back to the trailer and I dug out an extra horse blanket and my Carhart. Sonita kicked her heels in play as I lead her farther into the fields. When the darkness swallowed us and I could just make out the white of her face I stopped.
Sonita stood and looked at me for a few seconds before she dropped her head to graze. I snuggled into my Carhart and spread the horse blanket on the ground.
I lay back on the blanket and watched my mare graze. A kaleidoscope of images went through my head as I watched her. We had been through so much together. We had come so far. My squalling, nasty, bitch of a mare had gotten it together and channeled her incredible energy into where we were right now. It occurred to me I had learned to channel a few things too.
A brief ripple of fear ran through me, but the rhythmical rip and chew, rip and chew, as Sonita grazed in the dark made it easy to put tomorrow off until tomorrow.
She stepped by my blanket and snuffled my hair, making sure to leave plenty of slobber. I reached out to push her nose away and wrapped my hand around her coronet band instead. I could just feel a light pulse beating slow and steady.
I remembered to wrap the lead once around my hand before I slid into sleep. I dreamed of horses running.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Mouthy Mondays
I owe an apology to fyyahchild. She sent me this post many, many moons ago and I even remember reading it. I somehow didn't post it. Please, please, if I did this to anybody else resend your story with a reminder.
I have some kick butt news. I found a stable 2 blocks from my job. It has good sized pens and sheds, the place was clean, the water tubs full and scrubbed and the food program was great.
There is a gorgeous, huge outdoor arena, a good sized indoor and access to lots of trails. The city park has another good public arena and is across the street.
I had no idea how much I was missing a well disked professional level arena. I almost started to cry. I am not a cryer either. The BO must think I'm a bozo.
I'm glad I've been forced to ride the trails for the last year, but I also know I'm not happy unless I'm training on something. Now I'm in a position to get back to it. I think I've learned the value of hitting the trails though, trail riding will definitely stay in my program.
I move on the first. My boss is fine with me taking a long lunch, so I'll be riding every day. Yip!
So I think my life is starting to progress in a positive direction. Little by little I'm sorting this out. You guys on the blog are an incredible help.
Hear's fyyahchild - http://www.fyyahchild.blogspot.com/
It was late in the evening after a week of rainy weather. I was trying to get Tax to relax, relax, relax. He was hot after being stalled through the worst parts of the rain. I wanted to burn off the worst of his attitude and Tax just wanted to run and buck.
As the light began to dim I abandoned the arena and took him out to the field next to our barn to see if I could get a nice trot before we ended the day.
As we came up along the fence line for the first time the neighbor tossed a bag of empty soda cans right out their front door. Talk about timing.
Tax of course decided that was as good of an excuse as he was going to get and took off. He got a couple of strides sideways before I stopped him. Mad about stopping he shot backwards and threatened to start bucking when I pushed him forward. I gave him a big smack across the back of his neck. He finally stopped and we both sat there frustrated while he craned his neck to stare at the house and whirled his ears waiting for the roar of the horse eating soda cans once more.
I got him going around again and of course the next time we came close to the fence I could feel him starting to tense. I knew another blow up was coming, but I remembered something Mugs had discussed in a post. She talked about distracting a horse to keep their attention off the scary thing just beyond the fence. Ha ha…I was going to try an experiment.
I wrapped my hand around the saddle horn (did I mention I love my western saddle for after rainy weeks) and started shaking it, shifting my weight back and forth. Suddenly Tax’s ears flipped back around. He was trying to figure out what the heck I was doing. Maybe this would work!
The second I felt his attention start to shift away again I decided to sing. I’d been listening to Hank Williams, Jr. in the truck on the way out to the barn. So shaking and belting out Family Tradition at the top of my lungs around the turn along the fence line we went. And Tax focused on me and didn’t throw the tantrum I’d felt brewing. When he relaxed I stopped moving and rode as quiet as a mouse. His stride lengthened. His head dropped and I felt his steps lighten as his back rounded. This was what I’d been waiting for since I’d hopped in the saddle.
Pushing my luck I went around the field again. Any time I felt him tense up and get ready to spook I’d start shaking and singing as loudly as I could.
“I have loved some ladies, and I have loved Jim Beam. And they both tried to kill me in 1973.” He seemed slightly disconcerted by the singing shaking thing on his back, but it sure did get his mind off acting up. Then we’d go back to a nice, quiet working trot.
I must have gone around that field 4 times alternating between sitting quietly when Tax was good and spontaneously bursting into to shaking fits of song.
“Don’t ask me, Hank, why do you drink, and why do you roll smoke? Why must you live out them songs that you wrote?”
Then I looked up to see the neighbor standing on her porch shaking herself with a fit of laughter. I smiled my biggest smile and waved like a crazy person and slunk back to my own barn.
I have some kick butt news. I found a stable 2 blocks from my job. It has good sized pens and sheds, the place was clean, the water tubs full and scrubbed and the food program was great.
There is a gorgeous, huge outdoor arena, a good sized indoor and access to lots of trails. The city park has another good public arena and is across the street.
I had no idea how much I was missing a well disked professional level arena. I almost started to cry. I am not a cryer either. The BO must think I'm a bozo.
I'm glad I've been forced to ride the trails for the last year, but I also know I'm not happy unless I'm training on something. Now I'm in a position to get back to it. I think I've learned the value of hitting the trails though, trail riding will definitely stay in my program.
I move on the first. My boss is fine with me taking a long lunch, so I'll be riding every day. Yip!
So I think my life is starting to progress in a positive direction. Little by little I'm sorting this out. You guys on the blog are an incredible help.
Hear's fyyahchild - http://www.fyyahchild.blogspot.com/
It was late in the evening after a week of rainy weather. I was trying to get Tax to relax, relax, relax. He was hot after being stalled through the worst parts of the rain. I wanted to burn off the worst of his attitude and Tax just wanted to run and buck.
As the light began to dim I abandoned the arena and took him out to the field next to our barn to see if I could get a nice trot before we ended the day.
As we came up along the fence line for the first time the neighbor tossed a bag of empty soda cans right out their front door. Talk about timing.
Tax of course decided that was as good of an excuse as he was going to get and took off. He got a couple of strides sideways before I stopped him. Mad about stopping he shot backwards and threatened to start bucking when I pushed him forward. I gave him a big smack across the back of his neck. He finally stopped and we both sat there frustrated while he craned his neck to stare at the house and whirled his ears waiting for the roar of the horse eating soda cans once more.
I got him going around again and of course the next time we came close to the fence I could feel him starting to tense. I knew another blow up was coming, but I remembered something Mugs had discussed in a post. She talked about distracting a horse to keep their attention off the scary thing just beyond the fence. Ha ha…I was going to try an experiment.
I wrapped my hand around the saddle horn (did I mention I love my western saddle for after rainy weeks) and started shaking it, shifting my weight back and forth. Suddenly Tax’s ears flipped back around. He was trying to figure out what the heck I was doing. Maybe this would work!
The second I felt his attention start to shift away again I decided to sing. I’d been listening to Hank Williams, Jr. in the truck on the way out to the barn. So shaking and belting out Family Tradition at the top of my lungs around the turn along the fence line we went. And Tax focused on me and didn’t throw the tantrum I’d felt brewing. When he relaxed I stopped moving and rode as quiet as a mouse. His stride lengthened. His head dropped and I felt his steps lighten as his back rounded. This was what I’d been waiting for since I’d hopped in the saddle.
Pushing my luck I went around the field again. Any time I felt him tense up and get ready to spook I’d start shaking and singing as loudly as I could.
“I have loved some ladies, and I have loved Jim Beam. And they both tried to kill me in 1973.” He seemed slightly disconcerted by the singing shaking thing on his back, but it sure did get his mind off acting up. Then we’d go back to a nice, quiet working trot.
I must have gone around that field 4 times alternating between sitting quietly when Tax was good and spontaneously bursting into to shaking fits of song.
“Don’t ask me, Hank, why do you drink, and why do you roll smoke? Why must you live out them songs that you wrote?”
Then I looked up to see the neighbor standing on her porch shaking herself with a fit of laughter. I smiled my biggest smile and waved like a crazy person and slunk back to my own barn.
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