Loki update: Loki has earned a new name the last few months. “Low-key.” She has taken to being ridden again with a grace and ease that delights me.
We started out with laid back walks around the barn and a little bit of arena time. She has figured out there are no shows happening in the arena and is perfectly happy to tool around in there.
Once she understood I don’t expect her to build her run-downs anymore she kicked back another notch.
We have been working on WTC transitions and general puttering. Sometimes I can’t help but ask for lead changes, they’re sooooo smooth and quiet. She’s fine.
Kidlet, Kathy and I have started sorting with the local riding group. We get together on Tues. and Sat. and ride to the neighborhood arena.
I have to admit it tickles me. Talk about going full circle! I’m back to riding to the club events, just like I did as a kid on Mort.
I’ve been walking Loki everywhere, she’s still a little worried about returning to her drag-racing days with the Kidlet and has regular flash backs. But she has only tensed her muscles and raised her head. A gentle circle or some zig-zagging has immediately calms her and gets her focused again.
She has been good on the trail, crossing bridges and ignoring everything from joggers and dogs to 4-wheelers on the multi-use trail.
I was happy to note all three of our horses willingly and calmly walked down the very busy paved road, waited at the intersection like troopers so we could cross at the cross walk, walked past kids playing baseball, a skateboard park, lots of traffic, baby strollers and bicycles without flicking an ear.
I guess it goes to show, all that arena time was good for something. Loki hangs around at the arena with a hip cocked, walks in to the sort pen, says “Ya want that one? Okey Doke.”
Then she strolls over, cuts her cow and puts it in the holding pen. Never even breaks into a trot.
I’m proud and pleased.
Her future? I don’t know yet. For now, she’ll head back out to pasture at the end of May. She’ll be the horse I use when I give clinics at the rescue. Beyond that, I don’t know. My yellow mare comes back to me in a month, I am really excited.
Leland is going along just fine.
I personally am learning the joys of going for a short, quiet ride, taking my horse creekside to graze and drinking a Mike’s Hard Lemonade while I read a book (sometimes I even skip the ride). Amazing!
Dee Dee asked about stops. I am going to called these next few posts “All I Got on Stops,” ‘cause it pretty much is.
I have covered this stuff before, but I can’t find half of it so I can’t expect you guys to.
The easiest, most sure-fired stop I can share is what I learned as the Monte Foreman stop. It works extremely well for newbies and kids and is great for learning the magic of a horse getting under himself in a stop.
The only drawback is your horse will stop every time you push on his neck. I never had a problem with it, but did have some people complain about it.
In order for this to work the rider has to be able to feel the foot fall pattern of the horse for every gait she rides. So if you only walk, your homework is a lot lighter than if you walk, trot and canter.
I usually teach people to feel which foot is just hitting the ground. This works well with a buddy. I start with the fronts because then the rider can lean over and look if she wants to.
The walk is a 4 beat gait. When one of the horse’s front feet leaves the ground it is followed next by the opposite hind leg. The back foot will hit shortly after the front leaves the ground, giving you the 1,2,3,4 feel of the walk.
Practice calling out each foot as it hits the ground. I simply call out, “Now, now, now….”
Get your partner to say, front left foot, left hind, right hind, left front and call out accordingly until you can feel them all.
The trot is a 2 beat gait. When the horse’s front leg leaves the ground it’s followed by the opposite hind leg with both legs in the air at the same time. This gives you the 1,2,1,2 of the trot.
Have your work-out partner call out all four feet again and feel where each foot is. No looking!
The canter is a 3-beat gait. For the right lead the horse starts the canter with a step underneath and push from the outside (left) hind leg (left hind leg for the right lead, right hind leg for the left). Then the opposite (right)hind and (left) front travel forward together and the leading (right)front leg goes forward last.
This description is giving me a headache. If my horse takes the left lead he will lope off beginning with his right hind. Then his left hind and right front move forward together, then the left front (lead leg) goes last.
1,2,3…So call out the legs at the lope and we’ll get to the stopping part…well almost. The right lead is the opposite.
I don’t want to write anymore, so go practice and I’ll pick this up next week.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Cupcake’s Comeuppance
I fitted the serreta under Cupcakes halter. I tightened it down until he tossed his head, waited a few beats and tightened it down again.
“Jeez, don’t you think that’s enough?” My boss asked me.
“Shelley warned me this thing can do some damage if it’s too loose,” I said as I eased in and squeaked out another hole, “ I don’t want the metal banging around on his face.”
Cupcake stood still as I fussed. He knew he wouldn’t get out of the stall unless he was quiet. I was happy with his progress, but time was ticking away. I had just over 30 days to get him under saddle.
I snapped an extra lead-rope to his halter and one to the top ring of the serreta.
“Let’s balance him between us with the halter, “ I told Rainy. “I’m not planning on getting into it with him in the barn.”
The boss’ husband had a habit of storing all of his farm equipment in the barn. He had a lot of it. I would weave my horses through tractors and spreaders and buckets and sometimes his semi to reach my arena.
Cupcake was still impossible to lead once I led him out of the stall. He would lunge at horses, dogs, other people and eventually me.
He had never had a friend in his short little life and I never could figure if it was the kind of horse he was or the way he’d been treated that had turned him into this mess.
He didn’t seem afraid of anything, but I kept thinking an angry horse could still think things through. Cupcake had no thought processes I recognized.
In the early mornings when the horses were eating and I was cleaning stalls he had gotten to where I could scratch under his Rastafarian mane. He would raise his head from the feed tub and close his eyes, happier with the scratching than the plentiful feed in front of him.
I would stop, he would sigh and I would continue to clean his stall. For the few minutes while I picked the stall around him I felt totally at ease. I couldn’t quit him yet.
Cupcake walked a few steps before he squealed and struck at the horse stalled next to him. Rainy yanked her end and I held strong on mine.
We maneuvered him into the arena without hitting the Serreta once. I snapped the end of my longe line to the top ring in the serreta and another line on the rope halter. I undid the lead ropes and took a deep breath. I planned to give him every opportunity to be civilized.
Rainy sat up on the fence with an expectant grin on her face.
“You want me to wait so you can go get some popcorn?” I asked her.
“Gee, coudja?”I snorted and worked my way to the middle of the arena.
Cupcake stood frozen as I backed away. He worked his lips and ears,confused by the room I was giving him.
He looked at me, tossed his head and quickly paused at the weight of the serreta. I was almost to the middle of the pen when he bolted. I held both longe lines in my left hand, the one attached to the halter slightly shorter than the one attached to the serreta. I held the rest of the line away from my body and clear of my spurs with the other.
I scrambled to get to a good angle and yanked the longe line on the halter, pulling his head slightly to the center.
Cupcake sped up with every tug and was getting harder to keep up with. He was going to get ahead of me and b able to get his shoulder into the line.
“Here goes!” I finally hollered and snapped the serreta hard.
Cupcake slammed to a stop, his head high in the air. I hit the line again and he reared. I hit it again before he came down.
He stood spraddle-legged, head to the ground. He snorted hard a few times.
We stood watching each other carefully. The red hide was dark with sweat and foam already speckled his neck.
Cupcake squealed and launched himself at me, ears pinned. I snapped the longe line like an out-of-control fly rod and he fell to his knees.
He was up and running before I could think and I snapped him again. He launched into the air and I hit him again.He froze and stared at me, his eyes white and rolling.
He was terrified. I felt sick.
“I can’t do this anymore today,” I said.
“Do you think you’ve got him?” Rainy’s voice was a little shaky.
“I don’t know, I’ll find out tomorrow. But I’m done for now.”
I turned so my shoulder faced him and let him blow. His head was slung in the air, but he carefully maintained some slack in the line.
Cupcake finally lowered his head. His jaw was tight and his chin was clenched so hard it looked like a walnut. I walked up to him and rubbed his neck. His head dropped a little more and I was able to loosen the serreta. He held his breath as I eased it over his ears and off his head.
He led quietly to his stall and I piled an armload of grass hay into his feeder. He needed something to keep him busy until he cooled.
I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and watched him over the stall door.
Rainy called from the arena, “Do you want to ride a couple?”
“I’m done for the day,” I hollered back.Rainy didn’t answer so I knew she was mad.
I leaned my elbows over the stall door and took a swig of my beer.The sweet smell of hay twined with sharp sweat and shavings. Cupcake snorted and flicked an ear at me, but he kept his head buried in the hay.
“Jeez, don’t you think that’s enough?” My boss asked me.
“Shelley warned me this thing can do some damage if it’s too loose,” I said as I eased in and squeaked out another hole, “ I don’t want the metal banging around on his face.”
Cupcake stood still as I fussed. He knew he wouldn’t get out of the stall unless he was quiet. I was happy with his progress, but time was ticking away. I had just over 30 days to get him under saddle.
I snapped an extra lead-rope to his halter and one to the top ring of the serreta.
“Let’s balance him between us with the halter, “ I told Rainy. “I’m not planning on getting into it with him in the barn.”
The boss’ husband had a habit of storing all of his farm equipment in the barn. He had a lot of it. I would weave my horses through tractors and spreaders and buckets and sometimes his semi to reach my arena.
Cupcake was still impossible to lead once I led him out of the stall. He would lunge at horses, dogs, other people and eventually me.
He had never had a friend in his short little life and I never could figure if it was the kind of horse he was or the way he’d been treated that had turned him into this mess.
He didn’t seem afraid of anything, but I kept thinking an angry horse could still think things through. Cupcake had no thought processes I recognized.
In the early mornings when the horses were eating and I was cleaning stalls he had gotten to where I could scratch under his Rastafarian mane. He would raise his head from the feed tub and close his eyes, happier with the scratching than the plentiful feed in front of him.
I would stop, he would sigh and I would continue to clean his stall. For the few minutes while I picked the stall around him I felt totally at ease. I couldn’t quit him yet.
Cupcake walked a few steps before he squealed and struck at the horse stalled next to him. Rainy yanked her end and I held strong on mine.
We maneuvered him into the arena without hitting the Serreta once. I snapped the end of my longe line to the top ring in the serreta and another line on the rope halter. I undid the lead ropes and took a deep breath. I planned to give him every opportunity to be civilized.
Rainy sat up on the fence with an expectant grin on her face.
“You want me to wait so you can go get some popcorn?” I asked her.
“Gee, coudja?”I snorted and worked my way to the middle of the arena.
Cupcake stood frozen as I backed away. He worked his lips and ears,confused by the room I was giving him.
He looked at me, tossed his head and quickly paused at the weight of the serreta. I was almost to the middle of the pen when he bolted. I held both longe lines in my left hand, the one attached to the halter slightly shorter than the one attached to the serreta. I held the rest of the line away from my body and clear of my spurs with the other.
I scrambled to get to a good angle and yanked the longe line on the halter, pulling his head slightly to the center.
Cupcake sped up with every tug and was getting harder to keep up with. He was going to get ahead of me and b able to get his shoulder into the line.
“Here goes!” I finally hollered and snapped the serreta hard.
Cupcake slammed to a stop, his head high in the air. I hit the line again and he reared. I hit it again before he came down.
He stood spraddle-legged, head to the ground. He snorted hard a few times.
We stood watching each other carefully. The red hide was dark with sweat and foam already speckled his neck.
Cupcake squealed and launched himself at me, ears pinned. I snapped the longe line like an out-of-control fly rod and he fell to his knees.
He was up and running before I could think and I snapped him again. He launched into the air and I hit him again.He froze and stared at me, his eyes white and rolling.
He was terrified. I felt sick.
“I can’t do this anymore today,” I said.
“Do you think you’ve got him?” Rainy’s voice was a little shaky.
“I don’t know, I’ll find out tomorrow. But I’m done for now.”
I turned so my shoulder faced him and let him blow. His head was slung in the air, but he carefully maintained some slack in the line.
Cupcake finally lowered his head. His jaw was tight and his chin was clenched so hard it looked like a walnut. I walked up to him and rubbed his neck. His head dropped a little more and I was able to loosen the serreta. He held his breath as I eased it over his ears and off his head.
He led quietly to his stall and I piled an armload of grass hay into his feeder. He needed something to keep him busy until he cooled.
I grabbed a beer out of the fridge and watched him over the stall door.
Rainy called from the arena, “Do you want to ride a couple?”
“I’m done for the day,” I hollered back.Rainy didn’t answer so I knew she was mad.
I leaned my elbows over the stall door and took a swig of my beer.The sweet smell of hay twined with sharp sweat and shavings. Cupcake snorted and flicked an ear at me, but he kept his head buried in the hay.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mouthy Monday
I know,I know, the disorganization queen strikes again.
This story comes from "Slippin" our cutting buddy.
I think this is next in line.
In high school, I was not popular nor was I into sports.
I constantly talked about horses and found myself drawing them on my papers in class.
I rode a paint gelding bareback because I couldn’t put a saddle on without asking for help. I wasn't quite strong enough to pick it up that high without a major ordeal of getting a block of wood to stand on. I only weighed about 75 lbs soaking wet in high school.
My sophomore year, I went to work at a cutting horse barn cleaning stalls after school and on the weekends. I had never heard of cutting, nor had I ever SEEN it. One day I was watching someone work a horse on the mechanical cow and was fascinated by how that horse could turn on his hind end like that.
I was sitting on the rail intently watching when, my now long time friend, asked me if I wanted to try it out. I looked at her wide eyed and said, "Who ME?? No! I will fall off! That horse moves way too fast!"
She laughed and said, "No, you will be fine, just watch the flag and hold onto the horn and if you get scared, you can always pull on the reins and stop her"
That was a new concept to me...my gelding that I rode bareback at home didn't have very good brakes...he pretty much went where he wanted to go most of the time.
I nervously climbed down off the fence and walked over to the mare and climbed up in the saddle. She gave me a few pointers on how to hold the horn and how to sit relaxed. Then she told me to step the mare up towards the flag with my hand forward and reins loose.
My friend gave me a warning and said, "OK, I'm going to make the flag move, so put your rein hand on her neck and be ready for her to move to the right...I remember clamping down on the saddle horn and getting a big knot in my stomach.
I have always been told by friends and coaches that I couldn't do anything because I was too little and not strong enough, so I immediately started doubting myself, but before I could say anything, the flag moved and the horse gracefully dropped down and made a nice swinging move to the right, then trotted a few steps and stopped, then did the drop and moved 180 degrees to the left.
We made about 5 or 6 moves and I started laughing so hard I couldn't concentrate on the horse or the flag! When I got done working the horse, I yelled out, "That was so much FUN!! I have GOT to get me one of these!!"
About a year later, I found myself buying a 4 year old grand daughter of Freckles Playboy and after a year of lessons I started showing.(my mare needed some finishing touches on her training, so that slowed us down some too).
She was a hard headed tough mare that had a lot of grit and guts and weaved in the stall. I started calling her the "Ice Princess" because everything had to be her way, or she wasn't happy.
I used to worry about her weaving all the time, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't stop, so my trainer told me to just think of her practicing her cutting moves. She did slow down as she got older. She was one of those that shouldn't have worked out. She was still kind of green and I was still learning to cut. Usually those 2 combinations don't work out very well.
In 1992 I went to my first BIG show. The Pacific Coast Cutting Horse Association Derby! I wasn't showing in the actual derby, but they had a weekend show during the Derby.
I had entered in the 2,000 limit class and this time, my parents couldn't go, so I had to get a ride with another client of my trainer(friend).
When I got there I went and checked out the draw...I was MAD. I had drawn up LAST out of 50 horses. So after ALL day of loping and wearing my mare down(she needed to be loped a lot), I went in and WON the whole thing!!!
The best part was when I called home on the pay phone. My mom answered and I said, "Hey, WELL, there were 50 horses in the class, I drew up dead last, I marked a 221.5 and won! I think my check is going to be around $500. "
My mom said, "You did not! What really happened?"
I was shocked and said, "I did too win!"
she said, "You did not!"
I said, "C'mon! I didn't put a dang $1.35 in the phone to call home and tell you I lost a cow!"
That was the last I heard from my mom, that’s when my dad got on the phone and said, "Ok what did you do? Your mother is crying"
I laughed and told him what I did, he said, "Well its about time you did something on that horse!"(he was joking of course!)
A few years more of showing and a move to Texas in the "cutting horse capital of the world" I was still beating people on my little sorrel mare. I marked big scores on her and our best scores where when we drew up DEAD LAST! I have won 4 buckles on her and pretty much everything else you can think of...except for a saddle.
I had also been offered good money for her, but, as my grandpa has told me, "that’s when 2 fools met...one to make the offer, and one to turn it down!"
But she was the one that helped me through school and helped me prove to all the people that told me that I couldn't do anything because I was "Too little" WRONG! I couldn't even think of selling her. A few years ago, she died but she will always be my little "Ice Princess"
This story comes from "Slippin" our cutting buddy.
I think this is next in line.
In high school, I was not popular nor was I into sports.
I constantly talked about horses and found myself drawing them on my papers in class.
I rode a paint gelding bareback because I couldn’t put a saddle on without asking for help. I wasn't quite strong enough to pick it up that high without a major ordeal of getting a block of wood to stand on. I only weighed about 75 lbs soaking wet in high school.
My sophomore year, I went to work at a cutting horse barn cleaning stalls after school and on the weekends. I had never heard of cutting, nor had I ever SEEN it. One day I was watching someone work a horse on the mechanical cow and was fascinated by how that horse could turn on his hind end like that.
I was sitting on the rail intently watching when, my now long time friend, asked me if I wanted to try it out. I looked at her wide eyed and said, "Who ME?? No! I will fall off! That horse moves way too fast!"
She laughed and said, "No, you will be fine, just watch the flag and hold onto the horn and if you get scared, you can always pull on the reins and stop her"
That was a new concept to me...my gelding that I rode bareback at home didn't have very good brakes...he pretty much went where he wanted to go most of the time.
I nervously climbed down off the fence and walked over to the mare and climbed up in the saddle. She gave me a few pointers on how to hold the horn and how to sit relaxed. Then she told me to step the mare up towards the flag with my hand forward and reins loose.
My friend gave me a warning and said, "OK, I'm going to make the flag move, so put your rein hand on her neck and be ready for her to move to the right...I remember clamping down on the saddle horn and getting a big knot in my stomach.
I have always been told by friends and coaches that I couldn't do anything because I was too little and not strong enough, so I immediately started doubting myself, but before I could say anything, the flag moved and the horse gracefully dropped down and made a nice swinging move to the right, then trotted a few steps and stopped, then did the drop and moved 180 degrees to the left.
We made about 5 or 6 moves and I started laughing so hard I couldn't concentrate on the horse or the flag! When I got done working the horse, I yelled out, "That was so much FUN!! I have GOT to get me one of these!!"
About a year later, I found myself buying a 4 year old grand daughter of Freckles Playboy and after a year of lessons I started showing.(my mare needed some finishing touches on her training, so that slowed us down some too).
She was a hard headed tough mare that had a lot of grit and guts and weaved in the stall. I started calling her the "Ice Princess" because everything had to be her way, or she wasn't happy.
I used to worry about her weaving all the time, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't stop, so my trainer told me to just think of her practicing her cutting moves. She did slow down as she got older. She was one of those that shouldn't have worked out. She was still kind of green and I was still learning to cut. Usually those 2 combinations don't work out very well.
In 1992 I went to my first BIG show. The Pacific Coast Cutting Horse Association Derby! I wasn't showing in the actual derby, but they had a weekend show during the Derby.
I had entered in the 2,000 limit class and this time, my parents couldn't go, so I had to get a ride with another client of my trainer(friend).
When I got there I went and checked out the draw...I was MAD. I had drawn up LAST out of 50 horses. So after ALL day of loping and wearing my mare down(she needed to be loped a lot), I went in and WON the whole thing!!!
The best part was when I called home on the pay phone. My mom answered and I said, "Hey, WELL, there were 50 horses in the class, I drew up dead last, I marked a 221.5 and won! I think my check is going to be around $500. "
My mom said, "You did not! What really happened?"
I was shocked and said, "I did too win!"
she said, "You did not!"
I said, "C'mon! I didn't put a dang $1.35 in the phone to call home and tell you I lost a cow!"
That was the last I heard from my mom, that’s when my dad got on the phone and said, "Ok what did you do? Your mother is crying"
I laughed and told him what I did, he said, "Well its about time you did something on that horse!"(he was joking of course!)
A few years more of showing and a move to Texas in the "cutting horse capital of the world" I was still beating people on my little sorrel mare. I marked big scores on her and our best scores where when we drew up DEAD LAST! I have won 4 buckles on her and pretty much everything else you can think of...except for a saddle.
I had also been offered good money for her, but, as my grandpa has told me, "that’s when 2 fools met...one to make the offer, and one to turn it down!"
But she was the one that helped me through school and helped me prove to all the people that told me that I couldn't do anything because I was "Too little" WRONG! I couldn't even think of selling her. A few years ago, she died but she will always be my little "Ice Princess"
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