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.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Hot Summer
When the temperature gets in the 100's I like to take a drive with the top down and feel the oven heat at 55 mph. There are fires a lot here, but not like this year. This year is extreme and unique. When it hit 105 I lowered the top in my Pontiac and set out through the foothills. The sky was brown and I could look directly at the sun without squinting. I cranked up the radio and felt the superheated air flow over my face, over my arms. Around me the grass was yellow and the oak trees looked dry. Small daisy-like sunflowers lined the road and birds flew up. The music started to get into my cells, my soul. The air lifted me up and the music lifted me up and something amazing happened. In my mind I was totally present in the here and now, the moment. I felt my body get light. How do I explain this exept to say it was an infusion of joy and energy and spirit. My body broke in a million pieces and started to disintegrate and mix in with the atmosphere around me, all of it; the air, the grass, the car, even the music. I was a million bubbles floating around the car flying through the air vibrating with the song. Joy and Love flashed through my being. Then I laughed and just like that was back in my car, driving. I couldnt' get the grin off my face though.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Some Days Are Just Full
Where do I start? Well at the beginning I guess. My friend Krista is a barrel racer. 9 years ago she got a horse, and when it was three, she had a cowboy start him. The cowboy probably rode him 10 times, and then sent him home. Anyway, after that, she rode this horse a few times. Enough times for him to buck her off, run off with her, and do the same to a few other people. He is a big, tough, hard headed paint gelding.
Anyway, Krista hurt her back. She couldn't ride for almost 6 years, and the paint sat in the pasture and nobody did anything with him. Then she got back surgery and can ride again. She brought painto and her other horse over for me to ride for a few weeks, as a favor to a friend, to leg up so she could get back on. Well the other horse was no problem. Broke, already a winning barrel horse, no attitude, etc. Painto was tough. He tested my limits on how tough I am willing to be to get points across to a horse. I got him rode about 10 times and then had her ride him, after I got him tired.
It was determined that Krista should sell this horse. Lets put it this way. If one were to put a flank strap on this horse, he would be a rodeo horse. Not like he needed the flank strap to want to buck. If I get on Pepto and she has a hump in her back, I laugh, kick her forward, and enjoy the hops. If I get on Brownie, and she has a hump in her back, same deal. This horse, though. I get on him and he has a hump in his back I get right back off and lunge him some more. Because I know he could and would fling me 20 feet in the air head over heels like a lawn dart and not feel slightly bad about it. The others are just fresh and having fun, but he is a coyote.
Well who is going to buy a horse like this? A green broke 11 year old paint gelding with a big coarse head, a tail that goes like a helicopter the whole time he's being ridden, and serious resistance issues, who has to be worked into a full body sweat to relax? And all you natural horsemanship people out there I don't want to hear a word. My trainer is the only one Tom Dorrance ever would let train his wife's horses. Yes, my trainer traines Tom Dorrance's wifes horses, and was endorsed by Tom. Pat Parelli thanks my trainer in the acknowledgement section of his book. Sweating is not bad for a horse. What's bad for this kind of horse would be someone thinking they could get through his tough skull in some coddling way and get themselves killed. I know how to feel a horse and feel his moods. This horse would relax when worked hard. Some people are like that too. I am, so I know. A good hard workout can focus my mind and relax my body. I have enough savvy to know how to get through to this horse. And I have, the times that I rode him. After lunging him bitted up until he was (somewhat) relaxed, I could then get on him (without spurs) and have a shot in he!! of keeping him checked up. He would try what he could to bulge and pop and stop and charge through my hands or my legs and I would sit on him firm and centered and just keep kicking him back underneath me. He would bulge his hip out trying to get away one way and I would kick him with that leg and he would let fly double barrels and I would ride him forward some more with set hands trying to get through to the concrete steel that was his mouth. I would gallop him at a wall and double him right into it and out the other side until both of us were breathing hard and his head would start to come down. Then I would ease up on him and let him see how nice it is to just walk circles on a loose rein, following his nose easy and letting my legs shape him. And it was working. If I spent lots of time, he would get broke.
That's the problem. It takes an expert to do that. And honestly, most people with the skill to do this don't want to bother wasting their time with these kind of horses. I don't. Some may say that's harsh, but what of it? Why on earth would I spend all my time and energy on a horse like this when I have a barn full of champion cutting horses who want to be ridden, who want to work, who want to show and win, who don't want to hurt me or buck me off or run off with me, who learn quickly, are intelligent and athletic, willing? It takes me three times as much time and energy to ride this horse as it does one of the cutters, even the unbroke babies. And for what? Even if he gets somewhat broke, he is still worth about $500. Or less. It would take years before he could be considered safe for anyone but a skilled hand.
So then I broke my hand. (On this horse). And Krista won't ride him. So he sat and sat for two months while hay is $250 a ton and shavings are $6 a bag. Some people came and looked at him but no one wanted him and I can't say I blame them. Krista as a last ditch effort put him in a local ranch horse sale. Now this isn't the bottom of the barrel killer sale. I have sold horses at this sale and gotten good money for them, they've gone to good homes with local ranchers and ropers. Perhaps some cowboy would buy him and use him to work in the hills all day every day until he got broke.
I told her to find some cowboy to ride him through the sale. But no one would. It never occured to her to ask me to do it, and I didn't offer. I am known at that sale and others for always having a nice well bred horse that usually tops the sale, and wouldnt' really want to have my name attached to this horse. But no one would even consider helping her.
The night before the sale I was already in my pajamas reading a Kurt Vonnegut novel. My trainer knocked on the door and said Krista was outside, she got her horse in the sale and she was going to lead him through in the morning. Wow...lead him through? That would be a guarantee kill buy. No one would want to touch him with a ten foot pole. My trainer told me I should ride the horse through the sale for her. Yikes!
So I got dressed and went out and got him out and started lunging him. He hadn't been saddled in two months. I put the saddle on and bitted him up (I know him well enough to know this is necessary if I didn't want him to kick my saddle to pieces) and let him lunge. He bucked for probably 10 minutes. (I' m not exaggerating). I lunged him until he was breathing hard, and then bitted his head to the side and let him stand, blow, and relax a bit. After 15 minutes he had relaxed and gotten his air back and I got on him in the round pen. He wanted to buck; I kept him checked around to the side and gently eased him forward with my legs until he felt unstuck and then went into a trot. I worked him in the roundpen at a trot and a lope for about 5 minutes and then decided if I had to ride him at a sale in the morning I better get brave and come out of the round pen. I opened the gate and went out.
After riding him around the courtyard and in the cutting pen, I felt more confident, like maybe I could get through it in one piece. I know how these things work. All I needed to do was to show him smooth, low headed, on a loose rein, walking around easy. Some people go to these "performance horse sales" and yay-hoo their horse all over the place trying to make him look like he is ready to win the Snaffle Bit Futurity. Of course they have no skill or savvy and their horse is a reflection of it, gap mouthed, chomping, breaking out all over with nervous sweat and hopping and jumping and flinging (which the people think is cool, like rolling back or moving hard. Sheesh. Idiots). Their idea of a rollback is jamming a horse's front end in the ground and then the butt passes up the front end in a pogo stick motion and they scramble out the other way. This is called the "sale barn rollback."
I get depressed every time I go to these kind of sales. I like going to the sales at Fort Worth and seeing the well bred, expensive horses ridden by good hands, who will go to good places and have lots of money time and effort put into their upbringing. Many of them become champions. I don't even mind high end ranch sales where at least half of the people can ride and aren't crucifying their horses.
Here's a tip for anyone showing off a horse for someone else. No one wants to see how much you can "train" on your horse. That is not a good way to demonstrate skill. No one wants to see your horse stiff, scared, hopping around and overfaced. No one wants to see how much you can "make your horse do." You just end up looking like a yay-hoo. Show your horse smooth. Be cool and still and soft and show how relaxed you can get your horse. Do your homework at home and show off what you got in public, even if it isn't as much as you would like to have.
Anyway, the next morning, I got up at 5 and rode him again before taking him to the sale. I wanted him tired. Tired enough that he wouldn't plant me like a lawn dart in public. I got on him and bridled him up (in a smooth snaffle) and drove him up into my hands and pushed his ribs over one way and then the other, at a trot. Circles, changes of directions, until he quit trying to bulge and resist. Then I let him gallop. I took him in the big arena and let him out all the way. Holy COW! This horse found his special purpose. I could feel him loving to run, like a race horse loves to run. And he was fast! Fast enough for me to know he had some extra gears he hadn't hit yet. As we galloped, I gave in to the feeling and felt him relax and let go of some long held resistance. I could feel his hot energy coming up through the saddle and I locked in with him and we were one. He took me for a couple of glorious laps and then started to slow on his own and I let him. Then we walked around nice, on a loose rein, content with ourselves and the world.
I drove up to the sale with hope, hoping someone would come along and find what I had found in this horse, and be willing to work hard enough to bring it out in him so he could have a good life. The sale was smaller and of lower quality than it has been in years past, when I have been there with good horses. The economy has changed and this is a sign of the times. There were a few ok horses but nothing great, and there were a few barrel racers and ropers who could ride ok but also some real yay hoo sale barn types who just muscle and spur horses around. These people make me mad because they don't even seem to like horses. I don't know what their motivation is but I do know I don't like being around them.
Well he was tired at the sale, and therefore walked around nicely on a loose rein. I showed him in the preview and thought he did well. I rolled him back on the fence and kept him on his hip and made everything manageable and smooth. But you can't make a silk purse out of a sows ear and the experienced hands there could see he wasn't broke. I eased him into the ring but couldn't get him to do much. I know when to push and when not to. Now was time not to. I stood still and eased him into a small circle at a walk while the auctioneers tried to find something to say. He was a late add in the catalogue. No one knew anything about him. He has no bloodlines to speak of, no accomplishments, and his limited potential is buried under a mountain of reisistance and it would take a pro to unearth it.
He brought $300. A horsetrader bought him. My only hope is that some cowboy will get him and he will have a shot at having a job.
As I walked out of the ring the cowboys lining the exit were amazed. "You let him go for that?" They are used to me having a lot more horseflesh under me. I could just nod and go back to my car to unsaddle him. Old painto seemed strangely subdued too. Like he caught a bit of my depression. He groundtied like a broke horse and let me unsaddle him and toss the saddle in the back of my car. We didnt' speak. Just then the skies opened. It had been upwards of 100 degrees all day, and thunderheads had been building. It is rare in California to get a summer storm. Usually it stops raining in April and doesn't rain again until late November. But lightning cracked (lighting fires all over the hills) and the rain came splattering down. It was fitting. I left him tied to the hotwalker and drove away.
Although the day was only half over and I really hadn't worked that hard, according to what I usually do, I was exhausted and low. I had a headache and I felt too hot. With a heavy heart I walked through the barn and greeted all my ponies. I felt dirty, like I had been at a slave auction. Not only been there, but participated. Participated in playing god, having power over the fate of another living creature. I wish there was other answers. I wish all horses could be saved. I wish that more people had skill so more horses could realize their potential. It's nobody's fault, I guess, but it is sad anyway.
Anyway, Krista hurt her back. She couldn't ride for almost 6 years, and the paint sat in the pasture and nobody did anything with him. Then she got back surgery and can ride again. She brought painto and her other horse over for me to ride for a few weeks, as a favor to a friend, to leg up so she could get back on. Well the other horse was no problem. Broke, already a winning barrel horse, no attitude, etc. Painto was tough. He tested my limits on how tough I am willing to be to get points across to a horse. I got him rode about 10 times and then had her ride him, after I got him tired.
It was determined that Krista should sell this horse. Lets put it this way. If one were to put a flank strap on this horse, he would be a rodeo horse. Not like he needed the flank strap to want to buck. If I get on Pepto and she has a hump in her back, I laugh, kick her forward, and enjoy the hops. If I get on Brownie, and she has a hump in her back, same deal. This horse, though. I get on him and he has a hump in his back I get right back off and lunge him some more. Because I know he could and would fling me 20 feet in the air head over heels like a lawn dart and not feel slightly bad about it. The others are just fresh and having fun, but he is a coyote.
Well who is going to buy a horse like this? A green broke 11 year old paint gelding with a big coarse head, a tail that goes like a helicopter the whole time he's being ridden, and serious resistance issues, who has to be worked into a full body sweat to relax? And all you natural horsemanship people out there I don't want to hear a word. My trainer is the only one Tom Dorrance ever would let train his wife's horses. Yes, my trainer traines Tom Dorrance's wifes horses, and was endorsed by Tom. Pat Parelli thanks my trainer in the acknowledgement section of his book. Sweating is not bad for a horse. What's bad for this kind of horse would be someone thinking they could get through his tough skull in some coddling way and get themselves killed. I know how to feel a horse and feel his moods. This horse would relax when worked hard. Some people are like that too. I am, so I know. A good hard workout can focus my mind and relax my body. I have enough savvy to know how to get through to this horse. And I have, the times that I rode him. After lunging him bitted up until he was (somewhat) relaxed, I could then get on him (without spurs) and have a shot in he!! of keeping him checked up. He would try what he could to bulge and pop and stop and charge through my hands or my legs and I would sit on him firm and centered and just keep kicking him back underneath me. He would bulge his hip out trying to get away one way and I would kick him with that leg and he would let fly double barrels and I would ride him forward some more with set hands trying to get through to the concrete steel that was his mouth. I would gallop him at a wall and double him right into it and out the other side until both of us were breathing hard and his head would start to come down. Then I would ease up on him and let him see how nice it is to just walk circles on a loose rein, following his nose easy and letting my legs shape him. And it was working. If I spent lots of time, he would get broke.
That's the problem. It takes an expert to do that. And honestly, most people with the skill to do this don't want to bother wasting their time with these kind of horses. I don't. Some may say that's harsh, but what of it? Why on earth would I spend all my time and energy on a horse like this when I have a barn full of champion cutting horses who want to be ridden, who want to work, who want to show and win, who don't want to hurt me or buck me off or run off with me, who learn quickly, are intelligent and athletic, willing? It takes me three times as much time and energy to ride this horse as it does one of the cutters, even the unbroke babies. And for what? Even if he gets somewhat broke, he is still worth about $500. Or less. It would take years before he could be considered safe for anyone but a skilled hand.
So then I broke my hand. (On this horse). And Krista won't ride him. So he sat and sat for two months while hay is $250 a ton and shavings are $6 a bag. Some people came and looked at him but no one wanted him and I can't say I blame them. Krista as a last ditch effort put him in a local ranch horse sale. Now this isn't the bottom of the barrel killer sale. I have sold horses at this sale and gotten good money for them, they've gone to good homes with local ranchers and ropers. Perhaps some cowboy would buy him and use him to work in the hills all day every day until he got broke.
I told her to find some cowboy to ride him through the sale. But no one would. It never occured to her to ask me to do it, and I didn't offer. I am known at that sale and others for always having a nice well bred horse that usually tops the sale, and wouldnt' really want to have my name attached to this horse. But no one would even consider helping her.
The night before the sale I was already in my pajamas reading a Kurt Vonnegut novel. My trainer knocked on the door and said Krista was outside, she got her horse in the sale and she was going to lead him through in the morning. Wow...lead him through? That would be a guarantee kill buy. No one would want to touch him with a ten foot pole. My trainer told me I should ride the horse through the sale for her. Yikes!
So I got dressed and went out and got him out and started lunging him. He hadn't been saddled in two months. I put the saddle on and bitted him up (I know him well enough to know this is necessary if I didn't want him to kick my saddle to pieces) and let him lunge. He bucked for probably 10 minutes. (I' m not exaggerating). I lunged him until he was breathing hard, and then bitted his head to the side and let him stand, blow, and relax a bit. After 15 minutes he had relaxed and gotten his air back and I got on him in the round pen. He wanted to buck; I kept him checked around to the side and gently eased him forward with my legs until he felt unstuck and then went into a trot. I worked him in the roundpen at a trot and a lope for about 5 minutes and then decided if I had to ride him at a sale in the morning I better get brave and come out of the round pen. I opened the gate and went out.
After riding him around the courtyard and in the cutting pen, I felt more confident, like maybe I could get through it in one piece. I know how these things work. All I needed to do was to show him smooth, low headed, on a loose rein, walking around easy. Some people go to these "performance horse sales" and yay-hoo their horse all over the place trying to make him look like he is ready to win the Snaffle Bit Futurity. Of course they have no skill or savvy and their horse is a reflection of it, gap mouthed, chomping, breaking out all over with nervous sweat and hopping and jumping and flinging (which the people think is cool, like rolling back or moving hard. Sheesh. Idiots). Their idea of a rollback is jamming a horse's front end in the ground and then the butt passes up the front end in a pogo stick motion and they scramble out the other way. This is called the "sale barn rollback."
I get depressed every time I go to these kind of sales. I like going to the sales at Fort Worth and seeing the well bred, expensive horses ridden by good hands, who will go to good places and have lots of money time and effort put into their upbringing. Many of them become champions. I don't even mind high end ranch sales where at least half of the people can ride and aren't crucifying their horses.
Here's a tip for anyone showing off a horse for someone else. No one wants to see how much you can "train" on your horse. That is not a good way to demonstrate skill. No one wants to see your horse stiff, scared, hopping around and overfaced. No one wants to see how much you can "make your horse do." You just end up looking like a yay-hoo. Show your horse smooth. Be cool and still and soft and show how relaxed you can get your horse. Do your homework at home and show off what you got in public, even if it isn't as much as you would like to have.
Anyway, the next morning, I got up at 5 and rode him again before taking him to the sale. I wanted him tired. Tired enough that he wouldn't plant me like a lawn dart in public. I got on him and bridled him up (in a smooth snaffle) and drove him up into my hands and pushed his ribs over one way and then the other, at a trot. Circles, changes of directions, until he quit trying to bulge and resist. Then I let him gallop. I took him in the big arena and let him out all the way. Holy COW! This horse found his special purpose. I could feel him loving to run, like a race horse loves to run. And he was fast! Fast enough for me to know he had some extra gears he hadn't hit yet. As we galloped, I gave in to the feeling and felt him relax and let go of some long held resistance. I could feel his hot energy coming up through the saddle and I locked in with him and we were one. He took me for a couple of glorious laps and then started to slow on his own and I let him. Then we walked around nice, on a loose rein, content with ourselves and the world.
I drove up to the sale with hope, hoping someone would come along and find what I had found in this horse, and be willing to work hard enough to bring it out in him so he could have a good life. The sale was smaller and of lower quality than it has been in years past, when I have been there with good horses. The economy has changed and this is a sign of the times. There were a few ok horses but nothing great, and there were a few barrel racers and ropers who could ride ok but also some real yay hoo sale barn types who just muscle and spur horses around. These people make me mad because they don't even seem to like horses. I don't know what their motivation is but I do know I don't like being around them.
Well he was tired at the sale, and therefore walked around nicely on a loose rein. I showed him in the preview and thought he did well. I rolled him back on the fence and kept him on his hip and made everything manageable and smooth. But you can't make a silk purse out of a sows ear and the experienced hands there could see he wasn't broke. I eased him into the ring but couldn't get him to do much. I know when to push and when not to. Now was time not to. I stood still and eased him into a small circle at a walk while the auctioneers tried to find something to say. He was a late add in the catalogue. No one knew anything about him. He has no bloodlines to speak of, no accomplishments, and his limited potential is buried under a mountain of reisistance and it would take a pro to unearth it.
He brought $300. A horsetrader bought him. My only hope is that some cowboy will get him and he will have a shot at having a job.
As I walked out of the ring the cowboys lining the exit were amazed. "You let him go for that?" They are used to me having a lot more horseflesh under me. I could just nod and go back to my car to unsaddle him. Old painto seemed strangely subdued too. Like he caught a bit of my depression. He groundtied like a broke horse and let me unsaddle him and toss the saddle in the back of my car. We didnt' speak. Just then the skies opened. It had been upwards of 100 degrees all day, and thunderheads had been building. It is rare in California to get a summer storm. Usually it stops raining in April and doesn't rain again until late November. But lightning cracked (lighting fires all over the hills) and the rain came splattering down. It was fitting. I left him tied to the hotwalker and drove away.
Although the day was only half over and I really hadn't worked that hard, according to what I usually do, I was exhausted and low. I had a headache and I felt too hot. With a heavy heart I walked through the barn and greeted all my ponies. I felt dirty, like I had been at a slave auction. Not only been there, but participated. Participated in playing god, having power over the fate of another living creature. I wish there was other answers. I wish all horses could be saved. I wish that more people had skill so more horses could realize their potential. It's nobody's fault, I guess, but it is sad anyway.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Circuit Champion
uWe got back from Reno last night, tired but happy to be home! It was a great trip. The NQHA spring show at the Reno Livestock Events Center was a treat. I went there hoping to get enough points to qualify for the AQHA World, and happily, I did it!
We got in late Wednesday night. Before leaving, we got the oil and transmission fluid changed in the truck, as well as filling up with a full tank of diesel. The day of leaving for a show is always a busy one, and I am used to working non stop, cleaning the trailer, making sure all the stalls at home are clean, all paperwork is in order, (for out of state trips), all horses are schooled, all horses that are staying at home are turned out and worked, hay is set out for the feeders, and a million zillion things I forgot to mention. It is good to get in a rhythm and not worry or stress. I have seen a lot of people who are not good at travelling and get to running around all scattered, getting in each other's way, stressing about being on the road. I am lucky to have learned from my trainer how to travel in an easy, efficient manner. It is good to have a set plan of how to pack and who does what. After almost six years now, we work like a well oiled machine; we know our jobs and perform them with little fuss, staying out of each other's way, and not forgetting anything.
Of course there are always things you don't plan for. Like getting halfway up the hill on I 80 (Donner Pass---Sierra Nevada moutains) and realizing the kids at Jiffy Lube put the wrong transmission oil in, and we have a bad tank of diesel that is slowly killing the fuel filter. We limped up the hill in third gear, with the pedal to the floor, going 25mph. I think I got us there with sheer force of will! So needless to say we didn't get there very early. Luckily, some of our clients beat us over the hill and were the ones who got to wake up the stall guy, locate our stalls, get the shavings put in, etc. It sure was nice having them do that! Although I'm used to it by now, it isnt' always fun rolling in somewhere past midnight knowing you still have at least an hour's work ahead of you, and that you have to be up at five the next morning to get ready to show.
The mornings at a show are always my favorite time. I dont' care how little sleep I got; once I am at the trailer, grooming and saddling the horses and warming up in the frosty air as the sun comes over the horizon, I am in heaven. The day brims with promise. The horses are all fresh and playful in the crisp morning air, in the vast outdoor warm up space at the Events Center. The cutting is in the semi covered arena where we usually warm up during the Snaffle Bit Futurity. Some of the other horse show classes are inside in the great big colleseum. I have gotten to compete in there once, on Cheyenne, during the Snaffle Bit Futurity in 2005. I can't wait to do it again!
I got on Hal and loped him in his bronc halter, listening to his distinctinve "phhhh, phhhh, phhhh, phhhh" as he blows out his lower lip in time with his lope stride. He felt like a winner and I was grateful to be there. It was my idea to come to Reno and to do AQHA shows this year, to go to the World Show. For the past five years I have worked hard to become a good apprentice for my trainer, and all that time, my showing has been on the back burner. I got to show if there was room in the trailer after all the clients horses were in, or if there was some extra money, but not too often, and I certainly didn't dictate what shows we went to. Of course this is all fair. Nothing like what I have comes free, or even cheap. It is a road lined with hard work, effort, dedication, and most of all, patience. I had to earn it.
Well it sure is fun when things start paying off. It is pretty well accepted now that I will eventually take over the business, and I have proved that I will stay around and do what needs to be done without complaint, no matter how late at night it is, or how tired I am. So now my show career is important, too, as a means for me gaining the seasoning I need to someday become a professional. So when I mentioned I was tired of doing just club shows and it would be nice if we all qualified for the AQHA World this year, my trainer agreed. I set out an itinerary of AHQA shows to hit, even ones in other states, and so far, we have hit them all. Hopefully there are enough shows to make sure everyone gets qualified. My trainer's clients need to be qualified too, so we can all make the trip together. Otherwise, it is too pricey.
The first day, the cattle were great! I looked at those cows and knew it was our day. My trainer schooled Hal on the mechanical flag just before our go and I was confident in how I felt. The key to success at a show is overcoming fear. If one puts a lot of effort into really building a good foundation of skill, getting those skills down pat, then when one gets in a stress situation, one can rely on those skills to be there. So much of it is technical, meaning what one has to learn and master, but so much more of it is mental...having the faith in the skills that have been learned, that they will be there, that they will work. So many people get to a show and immediately go on the muscle with their horse. And then things fall apart. It takes some time to get it to where you can just relax and rely on your foudation, your training, at a show. That goes for horses and people. It doesnt' work perfectly all the time, but I feel it is getting more consistent for me, at least.
I was late in the herd but it didn't matter. I went in and did my job and stayed soft and communicated with my horse, and walked out with first place under both judges and 2 AQHA points. It wasnt' the most spectacular run I have ever had but I was happy for several reasons. One, I made great cuts. Two, I got long on one side but then was brave enough to kick and send Hal over the other way to center us up. It takes some guts to do that in the show pen, trusting that once you get there you can stop and come back and everything will work. The coolest part was Bobby Ingersoll was there, and I asked him to turn back for me, and he did! He is one of my heroes. The man is a horseman, straight up. His brother Doug Ingersoll, also very well respected, sat in my corner, and Dale Tingle turned back for me, with my trainer in the other corner. It's cool going in there surrounded by living legends. It used to intimidate me; I didn't want to look like a fool in front of so many master horsemen. Now I realize that in cutting, I don't care who you are, everyone has "been there done that." The cow is the great equalizer.
It was really great when Dale Tingle told me I rode really good. He has seen some of my less than great runs so it meant a lot to me to know he noticed some improvement!
I think it was mostly the chaps.
I sold my cutting chaps to Peg. They didn't fit me any more and I think I want shotguns anyway. My trainer thinks I probably don't really want shotguns so he let me wear his pair for this show to see if I do. Well all it did was make me want them more. They fit me well and were very flattering. I never liked my old chaps; even though they are super cool, I always felt like they made me look heavier than I really am. The shotguns were cut in a slimming way and I could walk around in them so much easier.
Saturday was good, too. I had a better draw but the cattle were very numb. I had an okay work. It was kind of frustrating, because I felt finally ready to jump out and stop cattle, but every time I would do that, the numb cows would just look at Hal and keep going the way they were going. Oh well; I don't care who you are or how good you are, you can't make a winning run out of bad cattle--but you can stay in the cutting! I got a good enough score for second place, which was good enough for the extra point I needed to be qualified for the World. Peg won first; her first win at an AQHA show! Actually, only her second win ever! I was so proud of her. She rode so well and really deserved the win. Now she is halfway qualified.
Well with my second place the second day, I had enough accumulated points to be hi point cutting circuit champion. The bad part is that I also had enough points to be hi point cattle event champion...the prize was a beautiful set of silver engraved spurs...but to be eligible for that award I would have had to show in halter. Ha! Could you imagine Hal in the halter class? Lower lip drooping, tongue hanging out, maybe swinging around suddenly to call out his super silly whinny, stepping on the judges foot in the process, or maybe whacking one of us with his head? His long skinny pony looking head? Sheesh! Well we did get our circuit award, which was a pink slinky for Hal to wear, like a halter horse! He was so embarassed when I put it on him.
My trainer also got hi point Junior horse circuit champion on Pepto. I am so glad he has a nice horse to show now. Last year he had no nice horses to show. He often doesn't get to go down the road like some trainers do. He is so good, as a trainer, as a showman, and so underrated. People sure notice when he shows up to the show with Pepto though! She was awesome. She even got down on a cow and patted the ground with her front feet, back and forth, dat dat dat dat dat, daring that cow, eyeball to eyeball. Everyone hooted and hollered. He also won a pink slinky! Of course it will disappear into the depths of the trailer never to be heard from again.
The ride back was less eventful than the ride there; having gone to a mechanic and gotten the fuel filter and transmission oil thing straightened out. The one problem was that on Saturday night we ate at the El Dorado buffet, and I got food poisoning. Thank heavens it was after I was done showing. I was sick as a dog. I kept puking even after there was nothing left to puke up. My back hurts so bad from puking so much. (sorry; I know that's gross. that's not even the half of it.) I am still sick. I am weak and sore, and can't seem to eat anything except vegetable broth (organic of cousre) and peppermint tea. I certainly learned my lesson. I always bring food when we travel, and usually we eat in. No more buffets for me. I seem to have lost my taste for any "outside" food. Colicing is definitely not fun!
The next AQHA show is Paso Robles, in May. Then back to Fallon, NV, end of May. The great thing is now that I'm qualified for the World, there will be no stress!
We got in late Wednesday night. Before leaving, we got the oil and transmission fluid changed in the truck, as well as filling up with a full tank of diesel. The day of leaving for a show is always a busy one, and I am used to working non stop, cleaning the trailer, making sure all the stalls at home are clean, all paperwork is in order, (for out of state trips), all horses are schooled, all horses that are staying at home are turned out and worked, hay is set out for the feeders, and a million zillion things I forgot to mention. It is good to get in a rhythm and not worry or stress. I have seen a lot of people who are not good at travelling and get to running around all scattered, getting in each other's way, stressing about being on the road. I am lucky to have learned from my trainer how to travel in an easy, efficient manner. It is good to have a set plan of how to pack and who does what. After almost six years now, we work like a well oiled machine; we know our jobs and perform them with little fuss, staying out of each other's way, and not forgetting anything.
Of course there are always things you don't plan for. Like getting halfway up the hill on I 80 (Donner Pass---Sierra Nevada moutains) and realizing the kids at Jiffy Lube put the wrong transmission oil in, and we have a bad tank of diesel that is slowly killing the fuel filter. We limped up the hill in third gear, with the pedal to the floor, going 25mph. I think I got us there with sheer force of will! So needless to say we didn't get there very early. Luckily, some of our clients beat us over the hill and were the ones who got to wake up the stall guy, locate our stalls, get the shavings put in, etc. It sure was nice having them do that! Although I'm used to it by now, it isnt' always fun rolling in somewhere past midnight knowing you still have at least an hour's work ahead of you, and that you have to be up at five the next morning to get ready to show.
The mornings at a show are always my favorite time. I dont' care how little sleep I got; once I am at the trailer, grooming and saddling the horses and warming up in the frosty air as the sun comes over the horizon, I am in heaven. The day brims with promise. The horses are all fresh and playful in the crisp morning air, in the vast outdoor warm up space at the Events Center. The cutting is in the semi covered arena where we usually warm up during the Snaffle Bit Futurity. Some of the other horse show classes are inside in the great big colleseum. I have gotten to compete in there once, on Cheyenne, during the Snaffle Bit Futurity in 2005. I can't wait to do it again!
I got on Hal and loped him in his bronc halter, listening to his distinctinve "phhhh, phhhh, phhhh, phhhh" as he blows out his lower lip in time with his lope stride. He felt like a winner and I was grateful to be there. It was my idea to come to Reno and to do AQHA shows this year, to go to the World Show. For the past five years I have worked hard to become a good apprentice for my trainer, and all that time, my showing has been on the back burner. I got to show if there was room in the trailer after all the clients horses were in, or if there was some extra money, but not too often, and I certainly didn't dictate what shows we went to. Of course this is all fair. Nothing like what I have comes free, or even cheap. It is a road lined with hard work, effort, dedication, and most of all, patience. I had to earn it.
Well it sure is fun when things start paying off. It is pretty well accepted now that I will eventually take over the business, and I have proved that I will stay around and do what needs to be done without complaint, no matter how late at night it is, or how tired I am. So now my show career is important, too, as a means for me gaining the seasoning I need to someday become a professional. So when I mentioned I was tired of doing just club shows and it would be nice if we all qualified for the AQHA World this year, my trainer agreed. I set out an itinerary of AHQA shows to hit, even ones in other states, and so far, we have hit them all. Hopefully there are enough shows to make sure everyone gets qualified. My trainer's clients need to be qualified too, so we can all make the trip together. Otherwise, it is too pricey.
The first day, the cattle were great! I looked at those cows and knew it was our day. My trainer schooled Hal on the mechanical flag just before our go and I was confident in how I felt. The key to success at a show is overcoming fear. If one puts a lot of effort into really building a good foundation of skill, getting those skills down pat, then when one gets in a stress situation, one can rely on those skills to be there. So much of it is technical, meaning what one has to learn and master, but so much more of it is mental...having the faith in the skills that have been learned, that they will be there, that they will work. So many people get to a show and immediately go on the muscle with their horse. And then things fall apart. It takes some time to get it to where you can just relax and rely on your foudation, your training, at a show. That goes for horses and people. It doesnt' work perfectly all the time, but I feel it is getting more consistent for me, at least.
I was late in the herd but it didn't matter. I went in and did my job and stayed soft and communicated with my horse, and walked out with first place under both judges and 2 AQHA points. It wasnt' the most spectacular run I have ever had but I was happy for several reasons. One, I made great cuts. Two, I got long on one side but then was brave enough to kick and send Hal over the other way to center us up. It takes some guts to do that in the show pen, trusting that once you get there you can stop and come back and everything will work. The coolest part was Bobby Ingersoll was there, and I asked him to turn back for me, and he did! He is one of my heroes. The man is a horseman, straight up. His brother Doug Ingersoll, also very well respected, sat in my corner, and Dale Tingle turned back for me, with my trainer in the other corner. It's cool going in there surrounded by living legends. It used to intimidate me; I didn't want to look like a fool in front of so many master horsemen. Now I realize that in cutting, I don't care who you are, everyone has "been there done that." The cow is the great equalizer.
It was really great when Dale Tingle told me I rode really good. He has seen some of my less than great runs so it meant a lot to me to know he noticed some improvement!
I think it was mostly the chaps.
I sold my cutting chaps to Peg. They didn't fit me any more and I think I want shotguns anyway. My trainer thinks I probably don't really want shotguns so he let me wear his pair for this show to see if I do. Well all it did was make me want them more. They fit me well and were very flattering. I never liked my old chaps; even though they are super cool, I always felt like they made me look heavier than I really am. The shotguns were cut in a slimming way and I could walk around in them so much easier.
Saturday was good, too. I had a better draw but the cattle were very numb. I had an okay work. It was kind of frustrating, because I felt finally ready to jump out and stop cattle, but every time I would do that, the numb cows would just look at Hal and keep going the way they were going. Oh well; I don't care who you are or how good you are, you can't make a winning run out of bad cattle--but you can stay in the cutting! I got a good enough score for second place, which was good enough for the extra point I needed to be qualified for the World. Peg won first; her first win at an AQHA show! Actually, only her second win ever! I was so proud of her. She rode so well and really deserved the win. Now she is halfway qualified.
Well with my second place the second day, I had enough accumulated points to be hi point cutting circuit champion. The bad part is that I also had enough points to be hi point cattle event champion...the prize was a beautiful set of silver engraved spurs...but to be eligible for that award I would have had to show in halter. Ha! Could you imagine Hal in the halter class? Lower lip drooping, tongue hanging out, maybe swinging around suddenly to call out his super silly whinny, stepping on the judges foot in the process, or maybe whacking one of us with his head? His long skinny pony looking head? Sheesh! Well we did get our circuit award, which was a pink slinky for Hal to wear, like a halter horse! He was so embarassed when I put it on him.
My trainer also got hi point Junior horse circuit champion on Pepto. I am so glad he has a nice horse to show now. Last year he had no nice horses to show. He often doesn't get to go down the road like some trainers do. He is so good, as a trainer, as a showman, and so underrated. People sure notice when he shows up to the show with Pepto though! She was awesome. She even got down on a cow and patted the ground with her front feet, back and forth, dat dat dat dat dat, daring that cow, eyeball to eyeball. Everyone hooted and hollered. He also won a pink slinky! Of course it will disappear into the depths of the trailer never to be heard from again.
The ride back was less eventful than the ride there; having gone to a mechanic and gotten the fuel filter and transmission oil thing straightened out. The one problem was that on Saturday night we ate at the El Dorado buffet, and I got food poisoning. Thank heavens it was after I was done showing. I was sick as a dog. I kept puking even after there was nothing left to puke up. My back hurts so bad from puking so much. (sorry; I know that's gross. that's not even the half of it.) I am still sick. I am weak and sore, and can't seem to eat anything except vegetable broth (organic of cousre) and peppermint tea. I certainly learned my lesson. I always bring food when we travel, and usually we eat in. No more buffets for me. I seem to have lost my taste for any "outside" food. Colicing is definitely not fun!
The next AQHA show is Paso Robles, in May. Then back to Fallon, NV, end of May. The great thing is now that I'm qualified for the World, there will be no stress!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Critter is a... well...critter :)
Critter was difficult enough to ride when she was here in training! She is what would be referred to as a "hand" horse. Meaning you need to be a hand to be able to get along with her. She has an abundance of energy, a silly streak, and hormone issues. It seems like she is in heat all the time. She has a lot of running blood in her and is accordingly hot. She is a phenomonal athlete when she is right, and she is super cowy and can read a cow quickly and accurately. Getting her right... that is the challenge.
I liked riding Critter when she was here, even though it was often frustrating and not the most fun ride of the day. I liked it anyway because she would always teach me something. Learning how to get with a tough horse like her without getting in a fight, getting the point across, getting her dialed in...well that takes skill. There were times I was not up to the task and I would hear those devastating words from my trainer... "okay let me on her."
After her futurity debut, Critter went home. She is now being ridden and shown by her owner, a 19 year old semi-beginning cutter. He is showing her in two handed cutting for practice for a year before cutting on her. While my trainer can go through a good run with Critter, she is young and green and riding her two handed is a good confidence builder for both her and her owner. It will allow both of them to get some show pen seasoning while keeping things at a doable level for both of them.
Well he is a great kid, and he is a good rider. I told him that when Critter was here I loped her every day...even on our days off. Critter is the type of horse that needs consistent exercise. She isnt' getting it. I can't blame him for being the type who isn't interested in riding every day at this point of his life. He's busy being a college kid. (I understand that not every kid is a freak like me who lives and breathes horses horses and more horses).
Anyway, his parents bring Critter over when they come for their weekly lessons, in hopes that my trainer will school her. Lately, he has been making me do it. This helps them, since then they do not pay. It also helps him (hahahaha) since he doesn't have to ride her! And, it helps me. It helps me learn. It isn't always fun though.
So I get on her after she hasn't been rode in a week or so and of course she is completely silly. Luckily it was 92 degrees yesterday so it didnt take too long to get her tired. I can feel her owner in her, his bad side, his unsteady-ness. I could feel her wanting to be in a fight with me, waiting for me to muscle her around. How easy it is to fall into that trap and start hanging and dragging and pulling and fighting. But there is another way. A horse like Critter could get so bad if that is the road the rider takes. She would be the one rearing up, bucking, or just turning into total crap. It takes a lot to rise above that and figure out how to get through to her, overcome the fight and just do what I do. It takes faith in the fundamentals. Even when the horse is on the fight, and has been getting sloppy, isn't mentally ready to perform, a rider who has faith in their fundamentals, who can practice good fundamentals even when the horse is not cooperating. What it takes is singleminded focus on the task and what it takes to get the horse right, no matter what is wrong with the horse.
It seems so easy to start making excuses. "my horse isnt' doing this, my horse is throwing her shoulder, she's stiff, she is in heat, she is being an idiot, etc," but at the end of the day, the excuses dont' really matter. What matters is whether you were able to communicate and get points across despite all those particular circumstances. That is what I have learned from riding here with my trainer, and riding Critter.
Sometimes I am able to ride her great, despite circumstances. At the show last weekend, it was super windy and an open, "scary" environment, near a pond filled with noisy geese, but I got her dialed in anyway, even though she hadn't been rode in more than a week prior. Yesterday I wasn't as good. I started out getting in a fight with her. But then I "checked" myself and stopped fighting, and fell into my fundamentals, just doing what I do. Then I overcame the fight in her and we started working as a team. She got tired enough to stop being silly and accept my hands and legs. And I got soft enough to ask her light and help her do things right. We ended up looking like pretty good cutters!
I liked riding Critter when she was here, even though it was often frustrating and not the most fun ride of the day. I liked it anyway because she would always teach me something. Learning how to get with a tough horse like her without getting in a fight, getting the point across, getting her dialed in...well that takes skill. There were times I was not up to the task and I would hear those devastating words from my trainer... "okay let me on her."
After her futurity debut, Critter went home. She is now being ridden and shown by her owner, a 19 year old semi-beginning cutter. He is showing her in two handed cutting for practice for a year before cutting on her. While my trainer can go through a good run with Critter, she is young and green and riding her two handed is a good confidence builder for both her and her owner. It will allow both of them to get some show pen seasoning while keeping things at a doable level for both of them.
Well he is a great kid, and he is a good rider. I told him that when Critter was here I loped her every day...even on our days off. Critter is the type of horse that needs consistent exercise. She isnt' getting it. I can't blame him for being the type who isn't interested in riding every day at this point of his life. He's busy being a college kid. (I understand that not every kid is a freak like me who lives and breathes horses horses and more horses).
Anyway, his parents bring Critter over when they come for their weekly lessons, in hopes that my trainer will school her. Lately, he has been making me do it. This helps them, since then they do not pay. It also helps him (hahahaha) since he doesn't have to ride her! And, it helps me. It helps me learn. It isn't always fun though.
So I get on her after she hasn't been rode in a week or so and of course she is completely silly. Luckily it was 92 degrees yesterday so it didnt take too long to get her tired. I can feel her owner in her, his bad side, his unsteady-ness. I could feel her wanting to be in a fight with me, waiting for me to muscle her around. How easy it is to fall into that trap and start hanging and dragging and pulling and fighting. But there is another way. A horse like Critter could get so bad if that is the road the rider takes. She would be the one rearing up, bucking, or just turning into total crap. It takes a lot to rise above that and figure out how to get through to her, overcome the fight and just do what I do. It takes faith in the fundamentals. Even when the horse is on the fight, and has been getting sloppy, isn't mentally ready to perform, a rider who has faith in their fundamentals, who can practice good fundamentals even when the horse is not cooperating. What it takes is singleminded focus on the task and what it takes to get the horse right, no matter what is wrong with the horse.
It seems so easy to start making excuses. "my horse isnt' doing this, my horse is throwing her shoulder, she's stiff, she is in heat, she is being an idiot, etc," but at the end of the day, the excuses dont' really matter. What matters is whether you were able to communicate and get points across despite all those particular circumstances. That is what I have learned from riding here with my trainer, and riding Critter.
Sometimes I am able to ride her great, despite circumstances. At the show last weekend, it was super windy and an open, "scary" environment, near a pond filled with noisy geese, but I got her dialed in anyway, even though she hadn't been rode in more than a week prior. Yesterday I wasn't as good. I started out getting in a fight with her. But then I "checked" myself and stopped fighting, and fell into my fundamentals, just doing what I do. Then I overcame the fight in her and we started working as a team. She got tired enough to stop being silly and accept my hands and legs. And I got soft enough to ask her light and help her do things right. We ended up looking like pretty good cutters!
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Shasta
SHASTA
by Jessica Colvin copywright 2004
We all say our horse is our best friend, our one honest, giving companion. But who can describe the actual depth of feeling behind such words? Words don't come close. Words are a pitiful attempt at understanding something so fundamentally fulfilling to our soul.
Horses are the essence of the physical. They exist solely in the now. They serve to remind us how very precious living in the moment is. They show us how to cherish fleeting beauty, small wonders. There is nothing you can hold for very long. Horses give us tiny tidbits of joy, something that mends the heart, tells us why we keep going.
What about Shasta? Where have you ever seen such a face? Those kind eyes somehow escape explanation. I see her long head over a show stall door, early morning brightness illuminating fuzzy chin hairs, lip hanging, content in the knowledge that breakfast is on the way. Her eyes are filled with wisdom, unflappable. She knows what she's about. She knows what its all for. She doesn't question; she just is.
I see Shasta from the back, waiting her turn at the cutting pen fence, all warm, catching a quick doze before her two point five minutes. Perhaps the day is long and she is a bit onery. One hind leg is cocked, haunches askew in a position of lounging repose, stunted tail, too short, a bit scraggly on top, but the deepest most beautiful shade of red, swishing lazily from side to side. Her ears at half mast, not quite back, but back enough. The set of her jaw is grumpy.
Shasta is never truly grumpy. Her girl is on her back. Her girl sits there looking expectantly at the cattle. will there be one in there that will want to play? One to face up, turn on the magic? The key to the little Shasa-dance?
Her girl perches in the Piland, dressed in purple, looking right. Shasta knows she is surrounded by younger, more compact horses with dishier heads, but she dismisses them with the flick of a whisker. Shasta is a true cutting horse. She has cattle in her soul. She knows how to do the magic Shasa-dance. She and her girl live for that. The moment when two life forces temporarily join, and become one, with one purpose.
The moment has come. Shasta is tranformed. Gone is the rest and repose, and it is now clear that the attitude of crankiness was nothing but "it's all business." Shasta goes and shows those young fancy pants how to play the game.
She walks in one foot at a time, carefully picked up, deliberately placed, soft and assured, radiating calmness to the bovine bunch surrounding her and her girl. Her large eyes scan the herd and if you focus in, the background becomes indistinct. Another time is born, one of no fences, no corrals, just miles and miles of range, a circle of riders, cattle all around, a branding fire hot in the early morning dew. A Cowboy-girl in purple sits upon the wisest type of horse, the top of the top, elite, revered, the cutting horse. Together they select their target, and slow, fluid movement explodes with energy, fast, still fluid.
All watch expectantly as the dance begins anew. All agree there is nothing quite like it, nothing so remarkable as this simple cow dance. Determination shows in two faces, one human, one equine. Both know their role; they voluntarily come together for this dance, a meeting of two souls, so different, needing each other for fulfillment.
Her girl doesn't let her down. She lets the Shasa-dance get underway, staying soft and focused, gently assisting, lending confidence where it is needed, staying out of the way when necessary. A cow faces up in the center. Everyone watching leans forward expectantly. They all know this sorrel mare. They have seen her brilliance and are eager to see the magic happen again.
Shasta gets low. Her lips peel back, ears pin, eyes come together with focus. She begins to glow with energy; it crackles off her, makes her front legs dance in a two step, makes the seconds go by slow enough for all aware beings to be touched by the life force. It awakens something inside, reminds us of the beautiful things. The cow is beat. It turns tail and runs.
Later, the mood is festive. Shasta stands contentedly grazing, drying in the dying light of day, washed and curried as a token of her girl's appreciation. She is content with herself, with her girl, with her life. All is right.
These are the things that can never be taken away. There is nothing you can hold for very long, but some things can never be lost. Shasta is in your soul. She knows how much you love her.
by Jessica Colvin copywright 2004
We all say our horse is our best friend, our one honest, giving companion. But who can describe the actual depth of feeling behind such words? Words don't come close. Words are a pitiful attempt at understanding something so fundamentally fulfilling to our soul.
Horses are the essence of the physical. They exist solely in the now. They serve to remind us how very precious living in the moment is. They show us how to cherish fleeting beauty, small wonders. There is nothing you can hold for very long. Horses give us tiny tidbits of joy, something that mends the heart, tells us why we keep going.
What about Shasta? Where have you ever seen such a face? Those kind eyes somehow escape explanation. I see her long head over a show stall door, early morning brightness illuminating fuzzy chin hairs, lip hanging, content in the knowledge that breakfast is on the way. Her eyes are filled with wisdom, unflappable. She knows what she's about. She knows what its all for. She doesn't question; she just is.
I see Shasta from the back, waiting her turn at the cutting pen fence, all warm, catching a quick doze before her two point five minutes. Perhaps the day is long and she is a bit onery. One hind leg is cocked, haunches askew in a position of lounging repose, stunted tail, too short, a bit scraggly on top, but the deepest most beautiful shade of red, swishing lazily from side to side. Her ears at half mast, not quite back, but back enough. The set of her jaw is grumpy.
Shasta is never truly grumpy. Her girl is on her back. Her girl sits there looking expectantly at the cattle. will there be one in there that will want to play? One to face up, turn on the magic? The key to the little Shasa-dance?
Her girl perches in the Piland, dressed in purple, looking right. Shasta knows she is surrounded by younger, more compact horses with dishier heads, but she dismisses them with the flick of a whisker. Shasta is a true cutting horse. She has cattle in her soul. She knows how to do the magic Shasa-dance. She and her girl live for that. The moment when two life forces temporarily join, and become one, with one purpose.
The moment has come. Shasta is tranformed. Gone is the rest and repose, and it is now clear that the attitude of crankiness was nothing but "it's all business." Shasta goes and shows those young fancy pants how to play the game.
She walks in one foot at a time, carefully picked up, deliberately placed, soft and assured, radiating calmness to the bovine bunch surrounding her and her girl. Her large eyes scan the herd and if you focus in, the background becomes indistinct. Another time is born, one of no fences, no corrals, just miles and miles of range, a circle of riders, cattle all around, a branding fire hot in the early morning dew. A Cowboy-girl in purple sits upon the wisest type of horse, the top of the top, elite, revered, the cutting horse. Together they select their target, and slow, fluid movement explodes with energy, fast, still fluid.
All watch expectantly as the dance begins anew. All agree there is nothing quite like it, nothing so remarkable as this simple cow dance. Determination shows in two faces, one human, one equine. Both know their role; they voluntarily come together for this dance, a meeting of two souls, so different, needing each other for fulfillment.
Her girl doesn't let her down. She lets the Shasa-dance get underway, staying soft and focused, gently assisting, lending confidence where it is needed, staying out of the way when necessary. A cow faces up in the center. Everyone watching leans forward expectantly. They all know this sorrel mare. They have seen her brilliance and are eager to see the magic happen again.
Shasta gets low. Her lips peel back, ears pin, eyes come together with focus. She begins to glow with energy; it crackles off her, makes her front legs dance in a two step, makes the seconds go by slow enough for all aware beings to be touched by the life force. It awakens something inside, reminds us of the beautiful things. The cow is beat. It turns tail and runs.
Later, the mood is festive. Shasta stands contentedly grazing, drying in the dying light of day, washed and curried as a token of her girl's appreciation. She is content with herself, with her girl, with her life. All is right.
These are the things that can never be taken away. There is nothing you can hold for very long, but some things can never be lost. Shasta is in your soul. She knows how much you love her.
Friday, March 14, 2008
In The Groove
Tonight was magic. Sometimes it just is. There are nights when the barn is still and the energy is right and everything just flows. We got new buffalo and we worked them tonight. Buffalo are great to work in some ways, and I am glad we have them in addition to cattle. I have gotten brave from working buffalo. They are quick and not quite as easy to read as cattle, and so getting good at working them is like "overpreparing" for working cattle.
When the buffalo are new, they have to be trained. They are wild and need to be eased comfortably into a routine in order to work well for training cutting horses. First, they need to feel comfortable at the new place, in their new pen. Then they need to feel comfortable in the arena without being worked. Then they need to be introduced to working in a way that gets them to relax and learn how to stop and look at the horse.
If it is not done correctly, you can get them running through fences, or diving around the horse, etc, and then they are not good to work.
It is important to use a horse that is quick and trained enough to stop the buffs and not chase them or be pushy and put too much pressure on them. Of course Hal is good for this job, so I got to "break in" two of the new buffs.
Earlier today I was watching the dvd we got from the Buffalo Ranch. It displayes all their stallions and shows their winning runs. There is something about watching those good runs... after a while I just watch the rider, and say it in my head as I'm watching...ride, stop, wait, wait, wait, ride, stop, wait....
I got that in my head and tonight I was lucid. Everything in the world made sense and I could feel each cell in my body being aligned, and Hal and I were as one. Even before I got on him I could tell the energy was right in him, too. He was happy and content, licking my arm as I groomed him, telling me he was ready to be a star. We warmed up on the mechanical cow and were in the groove from the first move, the first jump we were together. My trainer saw we had it handled and upped the speed a little, shortening the run, and I stayed with it, visualizing Beau Gaylean and Lloyd Cox in my head, how they sit, how those horses move under them, how it is fast and slow at the same time, the horse splattered all over the place and their head, there in the center, still enough to balance a plate on top of. Ride, sit, wait wait wait, sit, belt buckle right behind horn, soft back, I can feel my feet, my legs wrapped around Hal's sides like my legs are just part of him and his feet are my feet, I feel those back feet spread out, holding us steady.
Two minutes on the mechanical cow and I didnt' even pick up my hand once. That's all we needed and then it was on to the buffs. I used to be scared of the buffs, scared of being slam dunked, scared of not being able to hang with it. Fear fades with practice and repetition of course. I find I can read the buffs better now, and am not so worried about getting beat. Just hunt those stops. Hunt the stops and stay soft. When it is right there is a body awareness that I have also felt in yoga class, deep in a pose, my body singing, energy shooting out of it every which way. And it's fast, but it is slow, no little detail is missed. It is amazing the amount of concentration this takes, but when it is right, how little effort is expended. When trying slips into doing, and all tension is gone, things just flow.
These are the sort of rides a rider lives for, of course. And perhaps the horse, too. When we were done, Hal wasn't even sweaty. For him, as well, it was an effortless night, even though we made some huge moves. I walked him out a bit and then dismounted in the arena, pulled his saddle and bridle off and let him roll. When he was done rolling he came and stood next me with his head relaxed, eyes soft and content. He reached over and licked my arm and then let me know he wanted to go finish his dinner. We walked together (him free next to me) over to his stall and I opened the door for him and in he went. It is a friendship beyond words and we both know how good tonight was.
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