Texas In July

Houston in July is like a steam bath. I'm not sure how people stand it. I certainly don't know why July is the month my family picked for a reunion! When I touched down at Hobby I called Bob Hunter and told him I was in town again and would love to come on out to see him. He said, perfect timing, there is a show on Friday in Yoakum, and he had a horse I could show if I wanted to go.

Well why not?

5 am Friday morning I set out from Clear Lake City and got on the Sam Houston Tollway. It was still dark but already hot. The day before, my family and I had gone to Kemah boardwalk on Galveston Bay and I had rode the ferris wheel. Stopped at the top of the ride I looked over the bay and saw the oil tankers coming in the channel to Texas City. The other side showed miles of green, flat and low, trees intersperced with white buildings, downtown gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. The humidity is a palpable thing, visible even, a sauna over the lush semi-tropical landscape.

The roads are so clean and there isn't any traffic; I sped along unfettered and I was soon out on 10, through Katy and beyond. Texas goes from city to country so quick. Country for miles and miles, just green trees and green pastures and cattle everywhere. There is nothing comparable in California to all this green open space.

As I came into Sealy the sun was rising and the humidity was like mist, hung low like tule fog in the Valley, except already I had the air conditioner on. I pulled into Bob's drive and went to help him load horses in the trailer. He gave me a bucket of oats and told me to take the mule and catch a 2 year old out of the back pasture. Off I went and caught him easily.

Turning back to go towards the barn something in the long pasture grass caught my eye. At first I thought they were sprinkler markers, all over the ground, but another look, this time from the side, showed me what I was really seeing was spiderwebs, dozens of them, made in the grass. A long piece of grass would be bent down like a scaffold and the web was built using the grass as a frame. Dozens of perfect webs stood wet in the humid mist, lit up and dazzling in the rising sun. What to say to a sight like that? It was a piece of heaven. I stood there gaping without a sound.
Yoakum was another hours drive from Sealy, on two lane country highways through miles of Red Angus and little country homes, interspersed with towns with a Mayberry feel. Nothing corporate or modular or mass produced in this landscape. The day started out with promise and I was joyful as I drove along.

The showgrounds were full, and like any show I go to, getting there in the morning, pulling in and finding a place to park among the rigs filled me with excitement and anticipation. I don't tire of this; it is a thrill every time and I feel so grateful to get to do it. Walking around at a show a couple of states away from home, among strangers, I am comfortable and joyful. They aren't strangers, not really, for we are all there with the same ultimate goal and the atmosphere is welcoming. Walking into the arena and the warmup pen is like walking into any warmup pen anywhere and this is where I belong.

I helped Bob's wife, Sandy, saddle, and we hopped on his two 10,000 Novice horses and went to loping. The horses settled right in to the familiar show routine, and after a long four days with my family in Houston it felt like a release to be back in my real home, on the back of a horse. In the house with my aunts and sisters and parents I had begun to lose a bit of myself and more than once the idea that I may be adopted occured to me. Certainly I don't come from the same place as these people who are my family. There is a little resemblance here and there, and none of them are bad people but as always I am a bit of an outsider, looking in and marveling at our different worldviews.

Soon I struck up conversation with others while we loped and the dialogue flowed easily and unfettered by self consiousness or ulterior motives, unlike the days before with my family. The heat was not stifling thanks to low hung huge fans in the indoor arena. Right before Bob went in to show, the rain started. It was raining sideways, hot rain; the sun still shone in the sky. I accepted that I would be sticky and wet and that was ok. I continued loping, wiping smeared mascara away and wondering, as I have wondered before, how the Texas ladies always had such good hair and makeup. My hair hung lank in a tangled wet rope down my soaking back, my shirt stuck to me like a second skin. I've just never been meant to be a glamour girl.

As usual, excellent showman that he is, Bob won a check in his class and I was happy to see I had not failed him in warming up his pony. Later he told me that was the horse I would ride in my class. Chet, a red roan gelding by Smart Little Riccochet out of a full sister to Cash Quixote Rio; he was a mover and a shaker!

First I rode the two year old I had caught earlier that day. He was a sorrel Chula Dual gelding with a thin crooked stripe down a slightly roman nose, with a kind but young face. He was lightly built and small, with good bone and good legs. As I settled in the saddle and wrapped my legs around him he focused in on me and allowed me to guide him into the warmup pen and merge into the traffic. He was a bit goosey- preoccupied with the big and unfamiliar herd he suddenly found himself in. Like the intelligent little boy he is, he handled the situation well, with minimal stress. Soon we were loping along with the seasoned show horses. For his second time "in town," he was a good boy. Bob had obviously done an excellent job starting him and I felt completely comfortable on his back.

I also took Rubin Pringle's Peptoboonsmal filly for a spin. Her mama is Smart Fancy Lena, same mama as Blue Duck Okie. I felt pretty special riding around on that little princess! And little princess was what she was, no doubt. She looked and acted just like our own Pepto, a baby version. Silly and full of mischevious energy, turning into a wiggle worm every time a horse came up behind her, she had me giggling and concentrating on maintaining a soft back and a secure, centered seat. Sometimes it is possible to get on a horse and just know...just know, that horse is a good one. A star in the making. Well that little Pepto is a good one. I look forward to seeing her in the Futurities!

Later in the afternoon it was my turn to show. First I went into the office and filled out my ACHA membership renewal and gave the secretary a check. I was suprised and pleased to find that the secretary remembered me from last year! She was happy to see me and asked me about mutual friends and aquaintences in California.

Before I went in I rooted for Bob's non pro rider as he went in on his CD Royal gelding. He made great cuts and marked a 73, for second place in his class. A former polo player, he had taken up cutting as something to do in the off season for polo. Like anyone, he had become hooked ..ting, the simplicity, the precision, the laser sharp timing and tempo that is necessary to do it well. Once in a while it clicks in, the rhythm, the rhythm, and just a taste of it can keep someone coming back for more and more and more.

All day Bob and Rubin, jokers that they are, had been loud and boisterous, laughing and joking with each other across the show pen. "Hey Rubin! I got some Pacific Coast on my two year old! She got a 73 on that old nag of yours last year but this year she's going to get a 74 on my horse!" And of course Rubin would have a smart response. By the time I was warming up Chet for my class, everyone in the place had heard their boasts and I was receiving lots of curious looks.
For a moment it made me nervous. Last year there was no pressure; it was a free ride in a place where I knew no one. Last year no one expected anything of me. Last year I had won a check on a horse I had never seen and now the bar had been set. Could I do it again? Oh wow.

As I loped I thought about it and decided not to think so much. This is not the girl scouts. I have worked so hard to become accomplished at this, to feel brave enough to show up out of the blue somewhere and get on their horse and do that horse justice. I didn't come all this way to blow it because of nerves. Why did I have to get nervous anyway? All I had to do was go in there and do what I do, do what I practice every day, feel that feel yet again and let everything click into place. If I want to make this my career then I better just get used to pressure and laugh in the face of it.

So 74? Sure, I can do that. I had watched Chet mark a 73 earlier in the day and I was secure in the knowledge that this horse knows his job inside and out. Bob gave me a few pointers. He said keep him pointed up and don't get to swordfighting when making a cut. Show him the cow I want, set it up square in the middle and ease him into position with my feet. He said I could rely on this horse to match anything a cow gave me if I stayed with him, but don't get to kicking too much, because that would encourage him to "write checks he can't cash." Hmmm. Sounds like my horse Hal!

I was first up in a class of 18 riders. On my first cut I walked about 1/3 the way in the herd and eased the top part out towards the center, letting them settle and shape, keeping my eye on the top cow, a smallish mot faced black. I was patient and the cattle started rolling around me and I stepped Chet up through the traffic, keeping my legs in close, bouncing on his sides, encouraging him towards the mott's face, my rein hand just above his neck. I cut clean in the center and put my hand down and Chet went to work.

The mott had a little life to him and he took off with his tail over his back and Chet matched him. I wasn't quite in the rhythm with him on the first stop and I felt a little bobble but Chet never blinked an eye, he hit his stop and came back through himself and I put my cow-side leg on him and then got in time with him. I could do this. This horse was a lot like Hal! I got that cow broke down in the center and went back in for another one with 1.30 left on the clock. The next one I pulled out was a red cow that wanted to look at Chet a little and gave him a chance to do his dance for a few beats before running hard at us to the left. I put some leg on him and told him to stop that cow and he did. It then took off at an angle away from us and Chet broke fast with it but as I saw the angle change I sat down on him and we did a perfect half halt and slowed down to rate that cow. One more stop and turn and off to get a third cow to finish strong.

I sliced a charolais off the top and agressively pushed her out towards the center and threw my hand down. This one wanted to play and came in hard, ducking one way and then the other. This is where Chet and I really got together. He jumped out a bit long on one side and I felt comfortable enough to sit, wait, and then SEND him back strong to the other side to even us out. I felt him respond to me and the tempo of our run hit another level. I had one moment where I wished I had another 30 seconds; I had gotten the feel of him now and knew I could get an even higher score if I had had just a bit more time. I didn't want it to end. I could ask this gelding to write some pretty big checks before we came up with one he couldn't cash.

We walked out and heard the score...74. First place. I had done it. And it wasnt' because I went in there trying to win or worried about the others, on their fancy horses, familiar to them, among friends in an arena they had no doubt shown in before. I just did it because it is what I do. All that other stuff is extraneous. In the movie "Greatest Game Ever Played" Shia LeBouf stares down the fairway as the amateur golfer Francis Ouimet, and he has the million mile stare. The camera pans out over the fairway, thronged with expectant faces, trees, clouds. All of a sudden the people disappear, the trees disappear, the clouds fade from the sky and all that is left is the fairway, on a plane of nothingness, out in a vaccuum, in space. The golfer and the hole, marked with a flag. No sound, no croud, nothing. He aims, he fires.

When the show goes well, that is why. If I can get into that focus, that state of allowing, of being here, comfortable in the here and now. It is a liberating feeling and afterwards I walked around free and easy, no resistance anywhere in my body. My limbs swung loose and my joints were free and flexible. Chet walked with me to the washrack and he walked free and easy too, content with the world and the job he had done. I hosed him off and gave him a drink and a pat and thanked him for the wonderful time.

Baby Jane Update and a Successful Show

After a few days of getting to know Baby Jane at home, I got another try at our in public herd work at a cutting practice on Friday. This time we were absolutely smoking! We didn't miss a beat; it was so fun! The practice cattle were corriente roping steers. Lots of people don't like cutting these, but I do. The thing about roping cattle is they have a lot of "look" to them, and will play with your horse. If you get in their face, they WILL stop! Its just that if you get behind them in a chasing mode...well forget it. I think the people who don't like cutting them probably don't like them for this reason. However, if you dont' get out of position, if you don't chase, then you can jump back and forth all day and never get out of the center of the pen.

Okay, so I know that since we cut these kind of cattle we really didn't work on the issue that kept us out of the money at the show last weekend. Last weekend we got running cows and the problem was she was tight on a cow; I couldn't get her to go across the pen freely-she just wanted to crouch and jump back and forth. When I legged her more strongly to go across with the cow was when she kicked out and tried to buck. We have been working on that at home, however, on the round pen mechanical cow, and I dont' anticipate it being a problem again. We are getting to know and trust each other and I am starting to understand the feel of her. At home I have been working on rating the cow on long runs and keeping her up, going all the way to the stop.

At the pracice I could feel her desire and craving for cattle. She is such an intelligent, happy little pony. I always knew that, but now that I get to cut on her, and show her, a whole new dimension is added to our relationship. I do think we are going to be great friends.

I also practiced on Hal. Ever since December, I have been riding Hal two handed in a snaffle bit at home. When I was in Fort Worth, I spent a lot of time watching in the practice pen, and watching the two year old guys riding their sale horses two handed. I know what I like when I see it, and the ones I want to emulate are the smooth ones, the ones who have independent hands and good secure seats, who don't try to override their horses or do a lot of contortions in the saddle to get the job done. At one point my trainer was watching with me and I pointed out one of the ones I admired. He told me "you don't ride too much different from that now; the only difference is you lack the amount of seasoning that guy has." WOW!!!!!

Anyway it struck me that most of my struggles with Hal is I was not in the right mindset, about getting things solid in the foundation with him. It is like I thought I had to be too excited about riding him because he is such a high powered horse, more horse than I was used to previously. I was getting too anxious, always trying to get these huge moves, riding too quickly, getting Hal amped, when he is more than happy to get amped to the point of being out of control.

So when we got back from Fort Worth I decided to ride him like a two year old rider, two handed in a snaffle, working on the foundation stuff and getting us on the same page. This is good for Hal anyway. He has plenty of move. The key is to slow him down, get him to relax. I'm starting to understand what Paul Hansma is always talking about in his video. When you have the "A List" type horse, that is what you do. Previously, some of the horses I have rode have been the type I had to motivate a little. Well Hal certainly doesnt' need any motivation! He is motivated enough for both of us. He lives for jumping back and forth, crouching and shaking. He does it in his stall.

Every day I rode him this way. I did not blanket him this winter and he is somewhat fuzzy. So after every ride I have been currying him dry and I also think that is helping our relationship. Our relationship used to consist of only rubbing and currying, before I ever owned him. This is a good thing for Hal; he missed out on "being owned" for so many years and I think he really appreciates the extra attention.

At the practice on Friday I put a bridle on him and went to cutting. It was one of our better runs. I felt so confident and relaxed, letting him do his thing, and he stayed back and stayed correct and most important, stayed mentally connected to me, instead of getting out into the atmosphere somewhere. My focus held up as well and I am so glad I didn't fail him.

I think I have a new attitude towards showing this year. I have a feeling it is going to stick, too. Learning to ride, train, and show is a lifelong journey of course, but it is also a journey of self discovery. The better I get, the more I learn, the more I find out it has a leveling effect on my whole psyche. I am centered; I am grounded. And I am feeling fine about showing this year. The fear is gone. All of a sudden, I realized it just isn't necessary to be nervous. It is like a football game. It means everything...for an hour, and then it is over and it doesn't mean anything. It means everything and nothing all at once. It is so important to the person there and does nothing really to change the world. All a horse show is is a chance to showcase your horse to the best of your ability. It isn't about the person. It is about the horse. The only reason I am there is for Hal, to let him do what he loves to do so much. Why would I want to mess it up with silly human worries?

I went to the show on Saturday with this attitude. I also felt prepared, fully prepared, probably for the first time on Hal. I understand these things take time. There wasn't much chance of me being really prepared last year when I showed him; we didn't know each other well enough yet. Now, though, with my extra slow work at home, the extra hours put in, I feel closer to Hal and prepared to go let him be his best in front of the crowd. So that's what we did. Even loping around warming up Don's horses before my class I was in a different mindset.

I am prone to excitability and an abundance of energy. This can be a real asset, but not when I let it get me scattered. I feel energy from everyone; when in a crowd this can be something that gets me all scattered, like a horse at a show for the first time, overwhelmed with all the new sights and smells. This time I didn't let the snatches of conversation and other things around me distract my focus from the task at hand-warming up Don's horses and then my own, turning back, holding herd. I was serene and happy just to feel the horse beneath me, working for me.

And we showed so well. My herd work was superb and we were the picture of calm cool. I stayed centered and we didn't miss a beat. We won our class. This is just the beginning for me and Hal.

Huge Wild Eyes Cows Running Towards Me In The River Of $hit

While riding today, I was talking to Barb, one of our non pros, who was out for a lesson. She was talking about the, as she said, "irrational" fear she had of her horse, Maddy, and the buffalo. A few months back, we were at a practice in Merced, and Barb was trying to warm Maddy up on a cool, blustery night in the huge open MHA arena. Maddy bucked REALLY hard. I saw it and was astounded that Barb managed to stay aboard. She had bruises on the inside of her knees and lower thighs from hitting the swells and the horn. After that episode, she had been somewhat afraid of Maddy.

A few months later, she brought Maddy over for me to ride a few times; she hadn't been on her since the episode in Merced. I rode her with no real problems, three times, and then Barb brought her home. The next week she was back for a lesson on Maddy and it all should have been fine...except it wasn't. Barb couldn't get over the fear she had. It actually paralyzed her. When we brought the buffalo in the pen, she couldn't stand it any longer and got off Maddy and left the arena. I went over and got Maddy from her and got on Maddy and turned back for my trainer as he worked the buffalo on another horse. Maddy was a bit cowfresh but didn't offer to buck or do anything bad. After my trainer was done, I went and boxed a buffalo on the back fence, really driving Maddy up to it, getting right into it's face...again, no problems. My trainer then worked Maddy, and finally Barb got back on and worked Maddy herself.

Still, the fear remains. That was the topic of conversation. She couldnt' understand why the fear remained, why this irrational fear was not letting go. She is a brave person. She is one of the most determined people I know. She has ridden horses that were much more unpredictable than Maddy, with no problem.

I told her I, too, had had episodes like that. The problem with an "irrational" fear is that it doesn't matter how other people view it, or how many other people don't have a problem with what you are afraid of. Nothing you can say to yourself seems to help, because the fear pervades not only your thoughts, but your body as well. It gets into your cells and makes your body react in defensive ways that you can't "fix" by just trying to rationalize things in your mind. What's worse about it is the internal reprimands you give yourself for being afraid when you shouldn't be; the embarassment you feel for "failing" in certain situations where you feel you shouldn't fail.

She told me the problem was mostly with the buffalo. She thinks she can ride Maddy okay as long as things are kept slow-in her comfort zone. Buffalo, though, are out of the comfort zone. They are big and scary looking and she doesn't trust them. Just like the Holstein cows on her husband's big dairy. Just the other day he had her out helping him separate some cows in the alleyways. It was wet and the alleyways were slick with water and cow excrement, a veritable "river of $hit." Her husband ran a bunch of cows down the alley towards her, and told her to stand her ground, don't let them through! The alleyway actually had a downward slope and she was at the bottom of it. Here come these Holsteins, all wanting to be on the other side of her, all 5 feet 3 inches of her, serving as a tentative and very apprehensive blocker. She looked at their eyes rolling in their heads, wild and determined, running down the sloppy alleyway, and let out a little scream and leaped for the side fence of the alleyway, climbing to safety. Of course her husband was pissed and didn't understand what her problem was. They are gentle milk cows, nothing more!

As she related her story I realized that sometimes fear is a problem of perception. When Barb's husband looks at his Holsteins, he sees gentle milk cows who will stop if he stands in the middle of an alley and waves his arms. He sees animals which he can control by having a commanding presence. And it's true, the absence of fear, a self confident demeanor, works wonders for controlling livestock. When Barb looks at the Holsteins, she sees animals that weigh half a ton at least, and have their minds made up to go where they want to go. When she looks at the buffalo, she sees creatures who have wicked horns and big huge heads, who make snorting noises and have no problem crashing through a fence panel or two.

Now I know, because I am very familiar with the buffalo, that they are pretty predictable, and they really don't want to run into your horse. You can read where they are going to go by watching their eyes and ears, and individual buffalo have unique patterns of how they move; once you know the pattern, you know pretty much what that buffalo is going to do every time.

So to get over some fears, education and exposure can work wonders. The more Barb hangs around the dairy and watches the cows and how they react in certain situations, she would gain some confidence in working with them. Watching the buffalo, watching others work with them, etc, would probably help her get over her fear of the buffalo. The fear comes from unfamiliarity. Because she doesn't know how the buffs will react, it colors her perception of them.

Watching me and my trainer ride Maddy without having a problem helped convince her that Maddy was safe for her to get back on, even with the buffalo in the arena. Sometimes thats the best way to overcome a fear. Watch and learn. When you have some knowledge about how a situation will play out, you can then have confidence in your ability to handle it. Sometimes the key is just time and exposure.

For me, this is what worked when I had a problem with Pistol a few years back. Pistol was as her name implies. She was hot, goosey, broncy, silly, unpredictable, and so quick and athletic that all these traits were magnified. While a goosey horse really doesn't bother me, Pistol was above and beyond, because of her athletic ability. She would be gone out from underneath you before you could even blink. It's not like I can't sit a horse that jumps sideways suddenly...duh, I'm a cutter, that's what I do.

Well she got me one day; as I was getting on she shot forward and yanked the reins out of my hands. I was half on and half off and didn't quite feel comfortable stepping back down as we were now at a full run and the stirrups were oxbows. So I tried getting all the way on. I was already behind her motion and the effort was futile. I bounced off her hindquarters and got shot up and over the other side of her into the fence, hard enough to knock my glasses off and dot my vision with dancing multicolored stars. After that episode she was funny about mounting...for me, for my trainer, for my trainer's daughter. She would attempt to bolt every time someone would mount. Of course this just added to my apprehension about getting on her. Getting on is a vunerable position. Once I'm on a horse, secure in my seat, both feet in my stirrups, things are good. It is that half on, half off, one leg holding up my body the other swinging out behind me, perched and at the mercy of the horse...that's the scary part.

It got so I wouldn't even ride Pistol. I would make excuses. My trainer would have me get Pistol and I would; I would saddle her, walk her to the arena, and then tell him I had to go to the restroom could he please hold her...and then I would stay in the restroom for 15 minutes or so. Long enough for my trainer to get sick of waiting for me and get on Pistol himself. He didn't have the fear of her bolting. He is much more confident in his ability to cheek a horse around and get on one like her.

After many times watching him get on her and her not bolting on him, I started to feel better about getting back on her myeslf. Instead of perceiving her as a half tame, unpredictable horse, I started counting the times I saw her as a completely normal, if hot, under-control horse who stood still for mounting. My trainer also helped by holding Pistol for me as I got on, until I was confident again that I could mount her without assistance.

There were times, though, I attempted to get over this by myself. I would get her out, and lunge her until she was a bit tired, and then attempt to mount myself. My breath would start getting shallow and short, and I would start to sweat. My heart would start to pound and my legs and arms would go shaky. I absolutely couldn't control it; it just happened and I seemed powerless. The just do it mentality just wasn't happening in this situation. Trying to just push through the fear has worked for me in many scenarios, but not in this one. The fear had gotten into my body cells and was affecting my physiology despite my rational attempt to work through it. At those adrenaline filled moments, it didn't matter that I have a job as a colt starter, that I have successfully rode bulls, that I STARTED Pistol! Nothing mattered except that I couldn't make myself get on her.

In this situation, coming at it from another angle, actually changing my perception of Pistol, was what worked. I think this will also work for Barb. The more times she sees Maddy being good, being sane, under control and not wild, the better she will feel about riding her. The more she is around the buffalo, watching them and learning their reactions, the better she will feel about them.

Another thing that helps overcome fear is confidence in your own ability. My trainer was never scared of Pistol bolting as he mounted because he has complete confidence in his ability to handle a situation like that even if it comes up. In order to feel that way myself, I practiced mounting and dismounting properly and fluidly on a broke horse I was sure would stand still. Shadow was a saint, patiently standing for me as I would get on and off, on and off, on and off, from both sides. I got so I felt very comfortable cheeking a horse around and mounting quickly in one fluid, balanced and athletic motion. I practiced correct form until it came naturally and wasn't something I had to think too hard about.

These newly improved skills helped when I started riding Pistol again. I never had another problem like that with her, and gradually, the memory of my accidental dismount faded away, out of my mind, and out of my body reactions.

So what happens if you find yourself facing a bunch of wild eyed cows running towards you in a river of $hit? Well I guess that just depends on your perception of that situation and the confidence you feel in your own ability to handle it.