So many rocks. So Much mud.

I have to admit that I’m missing the sands of Madame Dorion right now. With Blue barefoot, I have to carefully mete out our time riding on gravel. The bad white hoof is in the process of shedding its frog. It is also losing sole concavity to the point that it is almost perfectly flat. (I pray that this is one of those it-gets-worse-before-it-gets-better kinds of setbacks.) The flatness means that he feels every single stupid little rock with that foot. There are many rocks. The only thing that we have more of than rocks is mud. And there is a lot of mud. And it means that if we are outdoors, we are walking. 

“Walking” makes it sound bold. We are not being bold. We are tentative. Mostly we are walking very carefully. Picking our way through the rocks and mud, of which there are many.

So many rocks. So much mud.

Our choices for conditioning right now are somewhat limited. They would be markedly less limited in Walla Walla, which is annoying. I used to complain about my lack of options there. Ha. It was a winter conditioning paradise.

Kara very sweetly invited us to the beach for a long ride on Sunday, but I am a wuss. Low tide was at 10:30 a.m., meaning that I would be getting up at 6 or so to drive to Silverton, hook up, load, turn around and drive to Corvallis, then trailer-pool over to Newport to ride many miles in an environment my horse isn’t crazy about. So basically it would be an endurance ride without the points accumulation. It was shaping up to be a very long day, and in the end I just couldn’t face it.

I did take Blue out for a very short road ride Saturday—his first since we moved. Heather and I used to try to do at least one long road ride a week in the winter, but it is different when you’re by yourself and the roads don’t have shoulders. Which, by the way, the State of Oregon should really look into. Shoulders are nice for those of us who like a buffer between our fragile bodies and the logging trucks.

I was pretty nervous heading out to ride on the road. Blue is a very good road horse, but we’re out of practice. I picked a time of day when I thought traffic would be minimal and visibility would be good. I was wearing a neon road vest. I told someone where I was going. I had warmed my horse up and put my game face on.

We turned off the driveway and onto the road, went roughly two steps, and an enormous coyote bounded out of the clear-cut and onto the road 15 yards ahead. Blue, bless his heart, didn’t move a muscle, but it really didn’t feel like a great way to start out our experimental road ride.

Coyote returns to the brush. I take a deep breath and ride on. Blue is absolutely fine except I can tell he is unhappy with the footing. I don’t want him on the pavement because the road is narrow and winding. Trucks come blasting around bends and the last thing I need is an upset horse on blacktop. So we’re on the foot or so of gravel beside the road before it drops off into the ditch. Blue is not thrilled with the gravel; I am not thrilled with the pavement. So it goes.

We made it back in one piece, so road rides are back on the table for conditioning. 

On Sunday we stayed on the stable’s property, trying to find mud that wasn’t slick or rocky. With those parameters, it was a very short ride. Toward the end, Blue began to refuse to walk anywhere but on the slick green grass. He was actively lame on gravel. Back in the barn, I hosed off his feet and found bruises on the white ones. The bruises are fairly small and shallow, but they are there.

So I went home and ordered a boot fitting kit, two rides too late.

My customer service experience with Easycare so far has been the polar opposite of my experience with the Specialized people in Texas. A real human being answered my emailed question within 24 hours. I ordered on Sunday night and had the kit in my hands by Thursday afternoon. 

Tomorrow I'll do a quick rasping and then try them on.

I'm still not giving up on shoes, though. (Sorry, barefooting friends!) I want him to stay bare as long as I can this winter, but I can't condition if he is lame on the gravel. If I can get the boots to work, I think they will be a good compromise that will allow us to continue conditioning barefoot through February and March regardless of the footing. And if he loves them and they aren't constantly twisting or coming off, well, it wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong.

***

Oh, man. Speaking of wrong. Laurie had this to say on Facebook this morning:

"Otto ran out with me yesterday on our fourth official training ride of the season. I mean ran out. Flat out. Bat outta hell out. I knew there was a cut coming up soon on the right, that rose steeply into wheat fields, and decided to turn him there. I readied for it, grabbed the right rein with both hands, pulled hard right while kicking hard on my left leg and yelling "Turn!" He blasted right on by. I thought to myself, "I'm just going to have to ride this out" For a split second my scared self said "I can't! I can't!" then my strong self said "do it, stupid, or you die." (that was good incentive) So I urged him on, if it was possible for him to go any faster. He didn't like that, so pretty soon he slowed enough to start bucking. I made him go on. Finally he tired enough that I was able to sit back a little and start jerking up on one rein. He stopped, panting like a mad dog. I made him move out, trotting circles the next half mile. Then we settled to a lovely walk and were able to enjoy the ride home. *whew* And I wonder why I fell asleep at 8:00. There's always a moment or two in spring when I think to myself "I must be insane. I could die like this," then I remind myself that all he and I need is rides and more rides, and we'll be fine. P.S. For my endurance friends...he was doing the most amazing extended trot ever right before he broke and ran...I felt it coming of course but was unable to stop him. Like Forrest, he just felt like runnin'....."

So glad he isn't my horse anymore. So, so glad.  

So glad.

I'm sure there's a scripture about the devil appearing in a beautiful, tempting form.

 

The blurry line between brilliance and laziness (and gluttony)

I have a high opinion of the mind of the mustang. Feral animals that they are, they exploit humans for what they need while maintaining a degree of stubborn independence that their coddled domestic brothers and sisters wouldn’t dare.

Exhibit A: the arena trail course. Seeing a tarp on the ground, the mustang approaches, sniffs, then chooses a different path. A tarp, unlike the creek it is meant to suggest, does not have limitless edges. Ergo, the mustang need not expend the additional effort of walking over it. He simply walks around it. He isn’t afraid of it; he just doesn’t see why it is so important to do the task a certain way when another way gives the same end result. This is also true of freestanding “practice” gates, cavaletti, traffic cones and ground-pole mazes.

It was especially true of the pedestal box. The pedestal is even smaller than a tarp. It’s small enough to be awkwardly stepped over or around, or bulldozed through. In a pinch, it might be jumped.

So here’s what I did. I filled the kangaroo pocket of my Klickitat sweatshirt with roughly five pounds of carrots. First, I put Blue on one side of the pedestal and me on the other. I held out the carrot to persuade him forward. But, as Blue pointed out with his nose, there was a pedestal between us. (And when I say “us,” I really mean Blue and the carrot. I was primarily a sentient carrot-holding device throughout.) He started going around the pedestal the same way he went around the tarp, still reaching for the carrot. I kept moving. Kept the pedestal between us. Blue stopped and pivoted like a cutter locking onto a calf. Coming around the other side of the pedestal, walking and reaching, craning his neck. The sentient carrot-holding device matched him move for move, step for step. Faster and faster Blue went, circling the pedestal like a demented carousel horse.

Clearly, this tactic was not working.

I needed to break down the process into tiny, digestible lessons.

Lesson 1: Apply hoof to pedestal.

I was not sure which hoof to start with. The ugly hoof (the white one featured in many blog posts this winter), is on his dominant side. On the other hand, that leg is also mildly crooked compared to the other. Do I really want to load it with Blue’s full forehand weight as he pulls himself up? I decided on the opposite, black hoof. Just in case. And hey, maybe it will strengthen his right side.

I pick up the hoof and put it toward the middle of the pedestal. When he keeps it there, he receives a carrot. If he removes it without permission, no carrot. I establish “hoof on box = carrot” as our training foundation. “Hoof on box” is easier than “chase mom around like demented carousel horse,” so this lesson sinks in pretty fast.

Lesson 2: Shift weight to hoof on box.

This is, of course, the much harder idea. After a quick lunging to give him a break from the mental and physical gymnastics of the pedestal, we return lesson 1. Blue puts his foot on the pedestal and receives one carrot.

In some ways, trick training is like hosting a game show. And now, Blue, would you like to keep that one delicious carrot or move on to the Lightning Round for the chance to earn a second—or even a third!—delicious carrot? I make my most convincing kissing and clicking noises.

He is clearly confused. His foot is on the pedestal, but the carrot is now just out of reach. His neck and lips stretch forward, his eyes narrowed in effort, his head tilting on way then the other, needing just an inch or two more to reach the tasty, tasty carrot. But it is no use; the carrot remains stubbornly out of reach. Irritated, he straightens up again and looks off into the middle distance, purposefully ignoring the carrot, hoping it will put its guard down long enough that he can pounce. He licks his lips in anticipation, still looking away, as if he is just fascinated with the empty arena. But the pull of the carrot is too powerful. He shifts his weight forward toward the carrot. Is foot is too far forward on the box. As he shifts his weight, the whole thing tips forward and he ends up straddling the upended box with his front legs.

He looks so completely ridiculous that I give him a pity carrot.

He does variations of this maneuver two or three more times when I realize the communication breakdown we’re having. With me on the ground, the carrot is rarely above eye-level. Blue doesn’t feel the need to climb up on the box with the carrot so near to the ground. He would rather go through the box than over it. I drag over the mounting block, place it a couple feet from the pedestal. I put Blue on the opposite side, lift his hoof onto the middle of the box, give him a bite of carrot, and climb the three steps of the mounting block. I hold the carrot above both of our heads, occasionally bringing it down where he can sniff and touch it, then bringing it back up.

Blue is again craning his neck, extending his mobile lips, sticking out is tongue. “If only… I were just… a bit… taller,” he grinds out through labored breaths.

And then he gets it. Lightbulbs go off. He lifts onto the box, his other foot dangling in the air next to it. This is a carrot-worthy accomplishment, and I feel guilty that I’m down to my list two finger-sized pieces. They don’t seem like a big enough reward for such a watershed moment. I leave Blue in the arena to ponder what he’s just done while I go get more carrots.

When I get back, he is blissfully rolling in the sandy arena footing. At the sound of me at the gate, he bolts upright, gives a spectacular leaping/bucking fart, and comes running to meet me. I am the carrot fairy.

He follows me over to the pedestal, I put his black foot on it, climb the mounting block and repeat. This time, both front feet end up solidly on the box. The next time, I do it without the mounting block, with just a carrot and a lively “hup!”

This is, of course, the condensed version of the story. This happened over the course of two nights of fairly intensive work for both of us. Blue showed great focus if not determination. He never got flustered, which I hope means that I wasn’t pushing too hard.

This time of year, when it is too dark to ride outdoors after work and often too wet to ride out on the weekends, it is nice to have some little projects like this. We do endless circles in the arena, but sometimes I want something different. Making a mini arena-trail course is a great way to keep my horse using his brain and to work on real-world skills at times when the real world isn’t readily available.

In which I am a skeptic

It’s hard to believe that it was only a year ago that I posted pictures of the arduous, snowy trek from Walla Walla to PNER convention with Heather.

I actually received the offer for my current job while at convention last year. I read the offer email on my phone in the hotel room and vowed to myself that I would deal with its implications when I got home. And now here I am.

These days, home is much closer to the convention site. From my front door to the Embassy Suites Portland Airport is 54 minutes in light traffic, so I opted not to stay at the convention hotel. Instead, Heather stayed at my house and we commuted to convention each morning.

While not nearly as “star-studded” as in years past, this year’s convention had a decent mix of speakers. Heather pointed out that this year overlapped a lot with last year in terms of topics—horse health, horse nutrition, trailer maintenance. This year had a little more discussion of the woo-woo new age holistic treatments, which I actually found valuable in terms of getting a clearer view of why someone might choose to use them. I remember a couple years ago I felt pretty “out there” when I sought out a bodyworker for Otto. :) These days, bodywork is basically old hat. Now were talking about reiki and cupping and nonsense like that.

This year, I found myself tuning out the discussion of the five “elements” that horses can be until I started thinking of them as personality descriptors and not necessarily as medically relevant. Same when we are talking about energy meridians and acupuncture. I don’t believe in Qi in the way that it is explained spiritually, but I can absolutely see how using conductive needles to influence the chemical/electrical impulses of the body could be useful. In eastern medicine, I find that if you strip out the spirituality, you’re left with certain facts that have a biological basis. On that basis, I’m willing to at least listen.

So anyway, that stuff was interesting (if not useful) and so was the thermal imaging presentation.

I think if I had any input into the kind of speakers we have next year, I would try to cover more horsemanship topics. This can be hard to do in a lecture hall, but I think that more talk about the biomechanics, balance, health and nutrition of the rider would be very helpful, much like we had with Deb Bennett and Donna Snyder-Smith three years ago. Or perhaps, if we are trying to get a more holistic approach, get someone with some expertise to talk about proper rider stretching, chiro, yoga, and the like. Or someone who is a trainer/coach to talk about working through emotional issues like lack of confidence and lack of motivation—things I think most riders face from time to time.  The last couple conventions have been very horse-centric. Why not talk more about the rider’s part in it? (As someone who has owned a very talented horse and still not excelled, I’m pretty sure the horse is only half—or less—of the winning equation.) 

We had a changing of the guard at the convention this year, so I can't wait to see what our new organizers will come up with—even if it is three more equine nutritionists! 

As always, the highlight of convention for me was the used tack sale. I’m a huge sucker for cheap tack and equipment, so it is probably for the best that this only comes around once a year. The best part was that I was able to sell my old Trailmaster for the price I wanted, which offset some of the pain of buying the new one. I also picked up two sets of saddle bags to tinker with for only $15. I figure I can pick my favorite and bring the others back to resell next year!

Can you believe it was only $15 for both of these? It almost felt like stealing.

My favorite find was courtesy of Carlene, though. She sent an email before convention saying that she was cleaning out several years of barn supplies and wanted to know if anyone had any specific requests. So now I am the proud owner of a bale bag with wheels. I’ll be using it to protect my expensive bales of weed-free hay. And because it has wheels, I can just roll it up into the empty side of the trailer. It’ll save a lot of mess in the back of my truck, too.
 

Who knew something so big and ugly could make me so happy? (See also: Blue when I first bought him.)

So, all in all, another great PNER convention. It was fun to see everybody and get a little jolt of motivation for the coming season.Now if only it would stop raining so I can get out and ride!

Hoof update

While we were sharing registration table duty at the PNER convention, [Blog of] Becky asked how the whole barefoot thing is going. This was yet another friendly reminder that I used to be a blogger on such topics. (Who, me? Blogging? Maybe I should start doing that again...)

So, here’s a hoof update. 

It is hard to overstate the vast improvement that Blue’s feet have made in such a short period. They look great. They look stupidly, wonderfully, absurdly great compared to how they looked at the end of ride season. They look like some other horse’s feet were transplanted onto Blue’s big, fat, roan body.

My farrier came on Tuesday and had very little to do. I always feel bad because it is a pretty long trip for him to come all the way out to do 10 minutes of work and only get $45 for his trouble. (Farriers are not getting rich.)

He and I had one of those sort of vague conversations similar to conversations I have with the woman who does my hair.

Me: I think it looks pretty good. I guess time will tell how it grows out.

Professional person: Yep. Everything looks fine. I just took off a little to clean up the ends. It looks healthy.

Me: Well, let’s talk about this more in the spring. We’ll see where things stand in April and go from there.

Professional person: OK.

I think the most encouraging thing about the conversation we had was that he sort of alluded to *not* putting shoes on in the spring. I’m very much on the fence about where to go from here, whether I want to give boots another chance or if I’m going to go back to shoes and just get them reset more often to keep the toe in check. There would be major advantages and disadvantages to both. But what is encouraging is that my farrier doesn’t seem eager to push me one way or the other. I am going to ask him for an honest opinion as we get closer to the time when foot protection will matter, but in the meantime, I like that he is treating this winter experiment as something that might possibly turn into a long-term thing. 

Dec. 5

Dec. 14

Dec. 21

Jan. 23

We still have a ways to go to get the heel to come down, but I'm happy with the overall direction things are going. The farrier says that the more he is moving around barefoot, the more contact his frog will have with the ground and the more his heels will grow to compensate. Here's hoping.


 

French lessons

I have not been blogging  because of all the usual reasons people stop blogging: 1) No interesting information to impart. 2) Lack of photographic evidence. 3) Indecision. 4) Malaise? Millieu? Ennui? Contretemps? (Cliché?!)

Today I’ll talk about the saddle. After much waiting, I was recently rewarded with a 17” demo Specialized Eurolight. This demo was built specifically for me, which made it less of a demo and more of a…. hmmm… je ne sais quoi. I guess I would call it a custom order with an extra-lenient return policy. Anyway, Carol at Lost Juniper did all the legwork for me because Specialized is notorious for their lax customer service. I tried to contact them a few times on my own, then gave up and did as Aarene suggested in Endurance Granny's comments! 

The saddle weighs almost nothing. I handed it—fully rigged with pad and all—to Sarah just to brag on it. I was rewarded with an epithet that I will not repeat here, because this is a family blog.

It also fit Blue beautifully right out of the box (it came pre-shimmed based on the measurements I sent). I might do a little fine-tuning to push me off the dominant diagonal and allow for his huge left shoulder, but the basic fit was spot-on. I could see right away that the design of the tree is a little different from the ancient Trailmaster that I had. The panels come down a little lower so the bearing surface of the saddle is in a slightly different space.

As soon as I sat in it, I could feel that that twist was narrower and the rise in the seat was flatter. It didn’t feel a lot bigger than my 16”, really, but depending on where I put the tape, it really is at least an inch bigger in the seat, maybe two. The space for my big, fat thighs is where I really notice it. That space is quite a bit wider so my thigh isn’t crammed against the pommel or the cantle. 

Other things I noticed: the construction of the 2012 Specialized looks cheap and sloppy compared to the 2000 model. The 2000 leather is thicker and more buttery. The 2012 is stiff (even for a new saddle) and not evenly dyed. The 2000 model uses nails, tacks, grommets and screws. The 2012 uses a lot of staples. All that aside, it is still a more thoughtfully put together saddle than 80 percent of what you’ll buy off the rack at a feed or tack store these days. I would rate my feelings about the saddle as “satisfied” as opposed to “impressed.” But then, we are living in cynical times.

Initially, I was worried about not having a sheepskin for grip (I went with the cheaper plain seat for the demo), but it isn’t an issue. I feel perfectly secure. I immediately liked the two-inch leathers instead of fenders. They give my legs a lot more freedom for cues, but they still feel substantial and not too swingy. I am a little worried that they are going to bruise my shins, though. Is it normal for them to make so much contact with the leg? I am thinking I could put the stirrup turners onto this saddle if I want the leathers to really be perfectly flat. It seems like overkill, but as long as we are making changes in the name of ultimate comfort, why not go a little overboard? 

To be really thorough in my investigation, I took the sheepskin off the old Trailmaster and put the new leathers on it, so I was comparing the two saddles apples to apples. The interesting thing is that the old saddle immediately felt a lot narrower without the sheepskin and the fenders. I know, DUH, Ruth. Of course it feels narrower without two inches of fleece between you and the seat. But the fleece has been such a non-negotiable part of my endurance tack that I hadn’t really factored it in as a vector for pain.

With the sheepskin removed and the leathers subbing in for the fenders, I got a much better feel for what the old Trailmaster was at its most basic. The old saddle was pinching where the back of my thigh/butt met the bottom edge of the cantle, but I hadn’t really noticed it before because the sheepskin was protecting me.

So the question was this: Is getting rid of that pinch worth $1600?

Hello, my name is Ruth, and I am the bourgeoisie. 

I have no real justification. I didn’t buy it to help the economy or because I particularly appreciate Specialized as a corporation. 

I bought it because it was a saddle that fit me and my horse, and there aren’t so many of those out in the world that I’m prepared to risk losing this one. (See also: Why I got married.)

One thing about this particular saddle is that it was put together a little more sloppily than the average. The leather that covers the underside of the tree wasn’t glued on right, so it is sort of wrinkled/bubbled. Anyway, the problem is in a place that no one would ever see it, but I went ahead and emailed the pictures to Carol and asked if Specialized would consider giving me a discount for this obvious factory defect.

They offered me a tiny (tiny!) amount off the base price. I graciously accepted.

And so, once again, money was “saved” through the power of complaining.

Two things I really dislike about this saddle: Staples where my old saddle had nails and the sloppy leatherwork on the tree.

One thing I really like about the saddle: Look how happy my horse is! (And yes, after seeing this photo, I did place it a bit further back the next time I rode.)

Endurance rider gift guide?

I think that Christmas 2012 will be remembered as the year that my new family really started to figure me out.

My mother-in-law had called Brian to ask what kind of jewelry I liked. Since that was a bit of a non-starter, she ended up consulting cousin Amanda. ...which is why I am the proud owner of the fanciest body brush I have ever seen. The handle is real wood and leather and the bristles are actual horse hair. I never thought a grooming product for a horse could feel so sinful and luxurious.

Gifts from Brian included many of a girl's best friends: An elegant set of heavy duty floor mats for the truck, a sparkling Gerber multi-tool, and magnificent machine washable synthetic half chaps.

Of course, my parents have known me quite a bit longer than my in-laws. Because of this, they can be trusted to purchase the kind of horse-related gifts that really make endurance riding possible.

 .

 .

 .

They sent me Anti-Monkey-Butt Powder and money. :)
 

Nice haul, eh?

*     *     *

In other news, earlier in the week, the last of the nail holes disappeared for good. Blue's feet looked a bit raggedy where the holes were meeting the ground, so I grabbed the hoofjack and the rasp. They already look approximately 26 billion times better than they did in November.

It's also helping that the landowner built a new pasture option. There is this long, narrow track that opens up into the Christmas trees, where the mud will be less intense than it is in the open field, but there will still be some enrichment.

Ho Ho Ho

Ho

Ho

Ho

Ho ho

Hooooo

Ho?

Ho, HO!

I said, HO, dammit!

"It's pronounced 'whoa,' Mom."

Happy holidays, everybody. I hope your kids sat nice and still for the Christmas card this year.