Mouthy Mondays

We seem to have a few new readers. Yip!
I thought I would explain some of the Mouthy Mondays guidelines, as a refresher for a lot of us and as new information for those who are interested.

I love stories. I like telling them, sharing them and hearing them. Mouthy Mondays is your chance to share.

It's all about the story here. Please don't duck out on telling us a good tale because you're afraid of your ability to write. This is a conversation and and if there is an argument or criticism from the readers it will be about content or opinion, won't be about how it's presented.

The only editing I ever do is to break things up into easy to read, short paragraphs. I hit spell check too, in case you forgot. That's all.

I have never had to edit the comments before, although I may have spammed a malcontent or two, but I'll start if the comments take a turn to the fugly, er, ugly. We disagree, argue and discuss here, but we don't attack. Ever.
 Let us know who you are, give me your blog or site address and we'll make sure to post it.
So feel safe and please share. We can't wait to read your stories.

This story comes from Kelly.

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I first got on a horse at the age of 6. His name was Ginger and he was beautiful. Though I didn't ride with him long (we moved country) I rode on and off constantly from that time, but somehow I never became properly "into horses" until I reached the relatively late age of 17.


This was also when I realised that for all my years of riding I was, essentially, rubbish.


I was looking for activities to boost my University application and a local stables for disabled riders needed volunteers, so I started to work there. This was the first time I'd really spent time looking after and getting to know a small group of horses. I grew to know each little quirk and character. I became steadily more and more obsessed with them. As a lucky bonus for my volunteer work one of the girls who was training to be an instructor used to give me the odd free lesson so she could practice her lesson plans. One day she came out with the words that changed my riding forever "Haven't you been riding since you were like 6?" "Yeah?" "It's just that, well, you really should know a lot more than you do".

I had had my suspicions that the stables where I rode wasn't great, it wasn't easy riding in a group of 13 riders in a 40x20m school, not to mention how often it happened that you would be introduced to a lovely but naughty horse to ride, spend lesson after lesson hitting the dirt and climbing back up, working on this horse with all your heart for the 60minutes you had with him, only to find a few months down the line, when you really thought you were getting somewhere, that the horse was sold and you were to ride a new green thing that they'd bought.


My new school was worlds apart, I'd never actually seen an instructor get on a horse and ride before. Nor had I ever had a lunge lesson. For months my instructor tore apart what I'd been taught; I knew how to sit a buck, I was eager and confident to canter and jump, but I knew none of the basics, the only way I knew to communicate with the horse under me was with huge ungainly kicks and unnecessary yanks of the reins. I was put on horses that knew better, horses who were trained well beyond any standard I'd ever ridden, horses that could teach me.


Then, one lesson, I was introduced to Bottom.


Not the most attractive name for a pony, not the most attractive pony either. He was a scruffy looking chestnut, and he was the most sensitive horse I have ever met. Not his mouth, that was fine, but to weight aids, you could not even glance the wrong way without sending this boy off course. Honest to god I'd be surprised if we spent more than 5 minutes of that first hour together actually going where we were meant to go. Were I more confident in my abilities I probably would have thought him an incredibly naughty horse, but by this point I was quite used to the fact that everything I thought I knew about riding was wrong. Yanking on the right rein and collapsing at the hip had always managed to turn the horses at my old stable right, but Bottom started walking sideways....to the left. I came away from that first lesson determined to figure him out. Up till now I had been merely sitting on horses, but there was a whole world of "real" riding that I didn't know yet, and Bottom was my key!

My instructor was kind enough to put me on him for pretty much every lesson for the next year or so, at first improvement was slow, but gradually I learned to feel where my weight was going, I got a feel for when I wasn't quite centred, when to put more weight onto this seat bone, or into that stirrup. I also learned that he had a wicked buck when he wanted to, and how to make sure he was listening enough to me so that I wouldn't have to experience said buck.

Some time later my instructor decided to hold a small informal dressage competition, open to anyone from our stables. I had never competed in anything before but I decided this was as good a time as any. A year before I would have thought completing any level of dressage test on this wobbly little pony was impossible, I was nearly right, he suddenly decided there were horse eating monsters in the corner of the school (yes, the same one we rode in every Thursday night together) and that the judge would appreciate a show of his jumping abilities...over her foot, which happened to be just sticking into the edge of the school.
Despite it all we placed second; "a good ride on an obviously difficult pony"

There it was; "a good ride". My good ride.


I still don't own a horse, I still spend far more time than any reasonable 22 year old should reading up on horses and dreaming. But one day it will happen. And when it does I'm sure I'll have just as much to learn and relearn as I did 5 years ago!

Good Morning! Or What I Learned at FHOTD

Whew. I am so glad to be home!

I missed you guys so much.

My stint in over at Styx...I mean FHOTD taught me a ton.

Some bad, some good, all of it a definite benefit for our blog, Mugwump Chronicles.

I've been immersed in the world of snark long enough I might as well purge myself and talk about the bad first thing.

Writing over there was a lot like herding ADD, rabid, feral cats. Trying to dodge all the infected claws made me start to want to bite back. I'm not that kind of writer, horseman or person.

I was continually amazed at how so many readers were intent on dissecting my presumed bias, my writing style, my lack of education (how the hell did they find out I never made it past the 2nd grade and the only training background I have is from Earl Bob's Fourth Generation Parreli Video School?).

It got to where I was throwing in a bone of contention just to see if anybody could read past it to find my real point.

Although it was amusing, at least to me, I was pretty disheartened to see how few actually figured out the direction of my posts.

My life training horses has changed me on every level. I became kinder, more thoughtful, more open to all aspects of life. I'm nice to dogs, kids and people with different perspectives.

I know many an old cowboy who can't spell worth a damn who can train circles around me and most of those who think they know horses. As you guys know, on this blog, I have always wanted to hear from everyone with a story to tell or some training advice and have never allowed any criticism of how they might string a sentence together.

Part of my reasoning goes back to my opinion that horse training isn't rocket science and the education needed to truly become Horsaii doesn't come from books. It has paid off and we've always gotten wonderful input over here from people from all walks of life.

The sheer anger emanating from so many of the posters really threw me. How can you be successful in centering yourself with your horse and not have it seep out to the other living, breathing beings around you? Serial killers start by burning ants with a magnifying glass and build from there. Just sayin'.

What did I like? The discussions in the comments. They would start by screaming and bashing and jumping up and down. Then a few people would start to defend me.

Then the personal,back and forth bashing would commence.

After the slap fest died down an actual conversation would begin. This is where I loved it. There were great ideas and thought provoking insights, there were people who began to look at different aspects of things and intelligent discussion.

That is the part I would like to see over here. I'd like to have more conversation with you guys, more arguments, more opinions. I don't see why we can't and still avoid the fisticuffs.

While Cathy was heading FHOTD I steered away from her subject matter, just as a courtesy. Now, I see no reason to hold back from expanding our horizons. The slaughter debate, bad training methods, current breeding practices, all of these things interest me and I'd like to be more pro-active in writing about them.

Being a typical Mugwump, I can't just come out throwing my opinions around. I'd rather do the research, present both sides and learn from you guys. So I'm looking into adding a current events page. We'll cover the good, the bad and the WTH? parts of the horse world.

It will be in addition to, not taking away from our old format. I have to admit, while it's kind of scary over there, those posters kept me on my toes. I think I was needing a kick in the butt and some new insight to keep the Chronicles fresh and exciting.

Also, I want to get the Equine Mind Meld up and running. We'll present a training question and get input from everybody, different approaches, different ways of untying the knot. This has been a personal pet project of mine for a long time and I'm ready to start playing with it.

Because I'm a complete computer boob, I'll be asking you for help on getting all this stuff set up, but I think it will be worth it.

There are some great people who read FHOTD. I hope some of them stop by and join in on our kinder, gentler sight.

I'm looking forward to a new site design, hopefully with easy to read and cruise additions. Any ideas on how we can expand and grow are welcome.

I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to barf on the keys again and tell you anything that comes to mind.

Scared or Mad - Tally

Tally settled right back into work. She was bright and cheerful, happy to be ridden and learning at an incredible rate of speed.

Kathy may have been holding a grudge, but Tally continued to treat her with the same, pre-hurricane-ride-from- hell, calm, friendly attitude every time Kathy brought her out of her pen to groom and saddle her.

"She's like a shark," Kathy grumbled, "just swimming around, waiting for somebody to fall in the water."

"Give her a break," I told her, "it was my fault, she wasn't ready for another rider, that's all."

"Oh, she was ready for me, don't kid yourself."

I went to work on Tally. No more soft, quiet, careful rides. I swung up on her right off the tie wall and pushed her straight into a trot. I leaned and tilted and poked her in the sides with my heels. I rode with uneven reins and tipped my weight to the left or right.

I mixed up my cues, sometimes riding with just my hands and sometimes with only my legs. I drug myself into the saddle, pulling on the horn and thumping into my seat.

She didn't take it well. Her eyes would go wide, her head would come up, her tail would kink and I could feel her feet start to scatter. She would pull herself together though, all it took to bring her back was a deep exhale and relaxing the muscles in my thighs, then my knees and ankles. With each breath my seat would deepen and Tally would settle. She was trying hard and she never bolted.

I found one huge, earth sucking, black hole.  She couldn't seem to handle her rider "going fetal."

If I tensed up, hunched over her shoulders and grabbed the horn she would panic. Tally would have surely bolted if I stayed that way, but I was able to get her back by simply sitting up and parking my seat bones where they belonged.

"Why do you keep doing that to her?" The boss asked me.

"Because it's the one trigger I can't seem to work her through. I'm never going to get her sold if she can't take a rider grabbing for the horn."

"When are you going to admit the mare is a one-person horse? Nobody else is ever going to be able to ride her."

"I refuse to believe there is such a thing," I answered.

The boss snorted and sauntered off.

I would work her up, bring her down, work her up again, each time she would come back to me a little sooner. When her reaction was slower and her settling quicker I would back off and put her to work. It was our favorite part of the day. She would relax into her lope, chugging around like a little freight train. I could feel the electricity in her muscles channel into the task at hand, her power would shift to her strong hind legs and her back would lift, carrying me forward with a lovely, natural cadence.

When we worked, Tally was solid as a rock, it was easy to let my mind go with the steady rhythm of her feet and become lost in the feeling of being one, not a rider on a horse, but a single sentient being. I hadn't felt this way on a horse since racing through Palmer Park on  Mort, my first horse and the best friend of my high school years.

Tally was a cool little horse and I was sure I could place her if I could just unlock that last little knot.

My long time student and client, Crystal, was the next to volunteer to try her. She knew what had happened to Kathy, but she had also seen the progress Tally was making.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. "Tally might give you a run for the money, you'll have to be willing to stick with her."

"I think I can do it," Crystal said with confidence, "besides, I just drool watching you ride her, she's so beautiful."

I looked at Tally's funny little hammer head and scratched her dented, scarred neck.

"Beautiful huh? That's not a word I usually have pop into my head when I think of Tally."

"Some people think rattlesnakes are beautiful," the ever helpful Kathy pointed out.

I understood what Crystal meant though. Tally reminded me of the horses in a Remington painting. Her muscular little body and sturdy, hairy little legs all flowed together in the rhythm of a time gone by. She didn't meet the standards of the modern Quarter Horse, but everything about her showed an economy and strength that made beautiful sense. Her heavy mane and tail, whiskery face and the wild look in her large, soft eyes made me feel like the very cowboys that had drawn me into the life I had chosen.

If Crystal got it, then maybe she was the next rider that could throw a leg over my wild child and succeed.

We arranged for her to come ride on a Thursday afternoon after a good workout. If she could simply ride her through a cool down we would be on the right track. Thursday was good, Tally would be two days away from her day off, but far enough into the week to have the sass off her. It was the best I could do.

Thursday arrived and Crystal came early.

"I'm not ready for you yet Crystal."

"I'm just so excited," she told me. "Can I get Tally ready? Will she let me catch her? Can I at least groom her?"

"It would more than likely be best if Kathy catches her and gets her ready. Let's keep to her routine for today. Why don't you ride yours first?"

"James or Fallon?"

"I'd ride both." It seemed Crystal needed some sass ridden off her too.

Tally was good for me that day. She tolerated my pulling and hauling better than usual and went through her workout with her usual bright attitude. I worked her hard, there was steam rising from her neck and flanks and a solid two-cooler sweat dripping down her legs by the time we were both happy.

Crystal had ridden both of hers and tied them to the wall. She still seemed eager, but her happy chihuahua excitement had calmed and I could see she was thinking clearly. Tired works on both horses and riders.

"OK, let's get this show on the road," I told her. "It's getting chilly and I need time to cool her out before I put her up." 

The breeze had sprung up and was blowing through the open end of the arena. I debated closing the door against the winter chill, but Tally hated it when I rode with it closed and it would take another ten minutes for me to wrestle the barrier gate open and drag the heavy door closed. I didn't need to rile her up now, so I just blew on my hands and buttoned up my jacket after I handed Crystal the reins.

 "I thought I was going to cool her out," Crystal said.

"Well that would be my intent, but my guess is Tally will get pretty nervous. Maybe not, just take it easy on her...."

Before I could go any further Crystal gathered the reins and swung up in one smooth motion.

"We'll be fine, won't we Tally girl?" She said and leaned over to rub her hard under her bushy mane.

I sucked in my breath about as hard as Tally did, but she stayed in place while Crystal scratched her neck. Maybe Tally liked Crystal's inner chihuahua, because her head relaxed and she licked her lips.

"C'mon Tally, let's go," Crystal said and they walked off easy as could be.

I was tickled to death. Tally was cruising along, head level, tail swinging in a cheerful cadence and Crystal was relaxed and calm.

"Remember," I said, "if she jumps, sit deep and pull her around your leg with one rein."

"She's fine," Crystal said.

"Good, I'm glad you're comfortable. But don't pull straight back and don't grab the horn if things get hairy."

"Fine Grandma."

Crystal's teasing seemed justified. They wandered around the arena, Crystal steered her left and right, asked her to stop and back, and just generally dinked with her, Tally seemed to be enjoying the ride.

"Can I trot her? Crystal asked me. "I'm not worried about her at all."

"I don't see why not, you're looking good, just remember to cluck instead of..."

Before I could finish my sentence Crystal bumped Tally with both heels. Tally jumped forward into a lope, still calm, just a little confused.

When Tally jumped, it was quick and liquid, easy to sit but startling in speed. Crystals hands came up and she pulled back hard. Tally's head came up and her eyes widened, she leaned into the bit and sped up.

"Crystal, don't, you need to either turn her or let her lope, you're fine," I called.

Crystal's face was rigid. I realized she wasn't going to hear a thing I said. She braced her legs, locking her knees and pulled harder. Tally gathered her legs under her and they were off.

She jumped once, twice against the hold Crystal had on her and bolted. They went careening around the arena, with Tally building speed with every stride.

Son of a bitch. I walked to the middle of the arena, trying to present a Zen-like trainerly presence. Crystal was hanging in there, but she wasn't thinking at all.

"You've got her Crystal, you can bring her down," I crooned, as well as I could croon over the pounding of Tally's feet. I stayed positioned as close to neutral as I could, I was hoping I could tune Tally in, but I didn't want to create a turn.

By the third lap I could see Crystal begin to think again. She forced herself to loosen the reins and looked at me.

"Try to tighten your inside rein," I told her. "Bring her in a smaller circle. Don't pull back, just guide."

She brought up her inside hand and I exhaled in relief.

Crystal pulled, hard, and yanked Tally's head almost to her knee. Tally stumbled to one knee and I thought we were done, but I should have known better. Crystal dropped her rein and grabbed at the horn. Her back hunched, her knees gripped tight and her toes pointed down as her fear won out.

 Tally was on her feet in a flash and took off in a beeline across the arena. She headed straight for the five-foot barrier gate and was flat out in three strides. I watched in helpless horror as visions of them smashing into the heavy metal rails filled my mind.

Tally cleared it, with only a click of one hind foot and a flip of her black tail.

Crystal stuck it. She flipping stuck it.

I yipped and headed after them when Tally landed clean and began to slow. Crystal fell off. She just let go and hit the dirt. In the 70's one of my favorite programs was called Laugh In. There was a recurring skit where comedian Art Carney, in a shiny yellow rain coat, rode a tiny tricycle. He would peddle along and then fall over, flat on his side totally rigid and still on the trike. It was hilarious. I had to slap my hand over my mouth to stop the strangled laugh that was fighting it's way to the surface when the image of the man falling off that trike filled my mind. I couldn't believe I was laughing, but I was.

I ran up to Crystal and kneeled next to her. "Are you OK?"

She rolled over and looked me in the eye.

"You owe me a Margarita at Jose's for riding that loon," she said, "and the Deluxe Enchilada plate for laughing at me."

I couldn't disagree.

When I gathered Tally up she whiffled my shirt with her soft warm breath. I rubbed her forward and played with her little fox ears.

"Tally old girl," I told her. "It's time to call in the big guns."