The Fear Factor (Part 2)

As I mentioned in my recent post, The Fear Factor, no incident triggered my fears other than the thought that the horse might rear, buck or bolt and I might die. Thinking back, I’m not sure I’ve ever fallen off Ginger (knocking wood as I type this). I fell off the back of Windy when she did a “sit and spin” when a donkey “hee-hawed” in her face! True story! And my first attempt at riding in an English saddle found me sliding down Daisy’s neck and landing spread-eagle in front of her – reins still in my hand. I took a tumble off Blue when riding him bareback and couldn’t sit his spook. And yet again while bareback, I fell off Butter in front of a school bus full of kids. Most recently and once again bareback, Windy zigged and I zagged and I am still sporting an unhealed tailbone injury from the cold winter ground. I’m pretty sure western saddles were invented for people like me!

The first bad wreck I had was a few years into our horse endeavor. We went on our first organized trail ride and we were such amateurs! John was on a three-year-old and I was on an OTT thoroughbred, Nick. There were a lot of horses – close to 200, if I recall. Nick got very nervous when a buckboard wagon passed us with the chains rattling. I kept him still as best I could until they were out of sight. Then someone (other than me) had an accident. Ribs, shoulder … who knows what, but they couldn’t get back on their horse. So the safety riders radioed for the buckboard wagon to come fetch them. (Big sigh).

Nick heard the chains on the buckboard before he saw it. He started to prance, to spin, and to resist. I pushed him to move forward. Ah, location, location, location…. I was on the side of a hill when I popped him with the reins. He reared up & went over on me, landing on my hip and right leg. And to add insult to injury, he ran off! Although I was stiff and sore for weeks, nothing was broken but my pride. Nick got a new zip code shortly thereafter.



In 2005, I got my first horse related broken bone while I was on the ground. We had ridden that morning & tied the horses to the trailer while we ate lunch. Before the next ride, I approached Blue with fly spray. The same fly spray I had used that morning. The same fly spray we use season after season. But Blue gets funny about things sometime and he took exception to it then. You’d have thought the devil had his tail as he jumped away from the trailer. He hit the end of his rope and all 1,340 pounds of him was coming back down fast. In my scramble to get out of his way, I fell on Ginger, who was tied next to him. She jumped away from me, hit the end of her rope and came back down on my ankle. It was broken. And it was May – the beginning of ride season.

I’ve had other spills at other times. None really memorable until someone reminds me of it. The worst spill I took happened last fall when I took a head dive off the Black Colt. I took a break from riding him afterwards, but eventually got back on him and had some good rides before he went to his new home.

Although the fear has been there and always will to some extent, my desire to ride is and has been stronger than the fear.

The Fear Factor

Some people read books and others watch television. One of my favorite pastimes is perusing blogs of other horse people. Although I have bookmarked a few in the margin of my own blog, it nowhere near represents all of those I read. While I am in awe of the competitive goals and accomplishments of some of my favorite bloggers – Jonni from Trot on Hank and Tamara of The Barb Wire come to mind - I also enjoy taking "virtual" rides at Mt. Hood with All Horse Stuff’s, Kacy and Wa, and seeing Alaska through the Alaska Pony Girl's Riding Log.

Every so often I’ll read about a rider who has experienced fear of the horse in some respect. Most generally, they are around my age, give or take a decade. A new rider or possibly a re-rider, who has always wanted a horse, dreamed of the horse, and once the horse is in their barn, that person is now afraid to ride. The fear could be a result of an accident, undesired behavior from the horse or just something that rider thinks the horse could do which terrifies her. The rider is usually in turmoil; never sure whether it is the horse or them. They ponder additional training or perhaps a new horse. Some have even given up their dreams of riding at all and are satisfied with just having a horse in their life.

Reasonable or not, the fear is real to that person. Years ago it nearly ruined my dreams of riding. And I did about all of those things I just mentioned. So I feel a kinship of sorts with those bloggers.

Ginger

We got our first horses shortly after my 39th birthday. Having had horses as a child, just how hard can this be, I thought? We bought, Ginger, the first horse we looked at. "Three-year-old-and-kid-broke", we were told. And it took about a week for this filly to scare the hell out of me! What did she do that was so terrible, you ask? Nothing really. The fear was brought on as a result of a story I read in a magazine. In the article, a lady was enjoying a leisurely ride when her horse bolted. When it couldn't be stopped, she bailed. And she lay broken and busted in the field where she fell. And it was like a switch was flipped in my brain. “That could be me!” The next time I got on Ginger, I got as far as the end of the driveway and quickly dismounted. I was sure she was going to bolt. I was going to be laying there broken and busted, too.

John was confused with what was now my low courage. I told him it wasn’t me. I have been riding since I was a kid (minus a 35-year absence from the activity, but who's counting?) It was Ginger’s fault. "She is going to bolt! Get me another horse! I’ll ride it!" So we bought another horse – a 16hh saddlebred mare - and it took all of 3.5 minutes for me to determine that I'd went from the frying pan into the fire as most likely she, too, was going to bolt! And I wouldn't be broken and busted this time. I.Was.Going.To.Die! Truly, at this point, the only horse I could ride was the kids’ 20-something-year-old mare. And as bad as this sounds, I was comforted in the fact that I was pretty sure I would kill her before she could kill me!

Blue

About six months after we bought Ginger, we found Blue. He was then a four-year-old gelding. He’d been professionally trained and had most recently ponied colts at the track. Today I would think that he may have been pushed too young and that four was really young, but at that time, his resume sounded pretty promising. His owner told me, “If you have a problem with him, it’s you, NOT him.” Well, I took that as a bit of a challenge, even though truer words were probably never spoken.

Blue wasn’t necessarily an easy horse. In retrospect, I think it was because he knew more than I did. I had never had a single riding lesson in my life and he couldn’t understand what I was asking from him. But he always tried. He was patient. He was gentle. Other than an occasional spook (which he probably got from mirroring me), he could do no wrong in my eyes. Blue wasn’t the silver bullet or the magic pill that made my fears go away. But it no longer had a stranglehold on me. I didn’t necessarily let go of my fears, but started getting more confident in my abilities. It didn’t happen overnight. It just plain took time.

Mikey

Because I only trusted Blue, it seemed logical that my boys ride him. So throughout the next few years, both McCain and Case claimed Blue as their own. And we added another steady eddy to the herd, Mikey. Although not without reservation, I started riding other horses. Some good, some not so good. And my fears were compartmentalized. “Reasonable Fear” would rear its head when I was on a young or an unknown horse. “Unreasonable Fear” would crop up every now and then when I THOUGHT I might find myself in a situation where I could die or at the least face severe bodily injury. Many times it was a figment of my imagination, but none-the-less, those I were riding with would have to humor me with whatever I felt was a suitable resolution at the time. Can’t say it doesn’t still happen, it does, but with a lot less frequently.

Bo

About six years ago, I was invited to my first Cowgirl Weekend. It would be the first time I would pull the trailer by myself. The first time I would horse camp without John. I would be responsible for getting my horse there, for its care and I would be riding without my family. I would be totally in charge of my own life and that of my horse and I was up to the challenge. Although I had been riding Bo, a 3-year-old colt, that summer, John suggested I take Blue for this adventure. He didn’t have to ask me twice. I loaded up my True Blue and headed off to what would be my first “Independence Day”. And that it was.

Jo

The next year, I slayed the first dragon that haunted me. Ginger. When Jo, the gelding I had most recently bought, had an injury, Ginger was the only horse we had in good enough condition for not only my second Cowgirl Weekend, but my first Competitive Trail Ride. My heart was no longer in my throat. She didn’t buck. She didn’t bolt. She took my breath away as I opened her up and we ran across the fields.

Gunner

Today, most of my Unreasonable Fear is gone. I contribute it to those horses I trusted the most like Blue and Mikey. Bo and Gunner both showed me that young and green didn't necessarily equate to danger. And to the friends who have encouraged me along the way. Their patience, while I worked through my problems, was priceless. Riding lessons have helped me learn to ride better. My weight loss has helped my balance and my partnership with Windy has made me proud. Sure, I still get fearful sometimes and my heart starts to beat uncontrollably. And yes, sometimes for no good reason that I can come up with. But mostly, it’s “good fear” that remains. The kind of fear that keeps us safe.

Black

The best advice I could offer anyone is to take lessons. If you are afraid of your own horse, start with a lesson horse. That may lessen the anxiety you have about your own horse. Or validate your concerns. A good trainer will not only help you with your horse, they can get into your head and beyond. But no matter what you are riding. Ride. I didn’t let fear keep me from throwing my leg over the saddle. No matter how scared I was, I wanted to ride more. I looked for safe environments so I could continue to do just that.

The other thing that helped me was a circle of horse friends. Other women. Some new to horses like me, others who were veteran horsewomen. We started our Yahoo chat group, Horsetales, which is still so important to me today. These women made me accountable for my own success by contributing to a forum for sharing challenges and adventures. By inviting me to share the trail with them. I couldn’t put riding on the shelf for another time. I wasn’t getting any younger. If I were going to live my dream, I had to do it now.

Windy

If you have followed this blog, you’ll know my story continues with Windy, My Dream Horse – who, coincidently, is Ginger’s only baby. I wouldn’t say I’ve finally arrived, heck I may never get there, but I’m having one extraordinary ride.

Feel free to share your story in the comments and the link to your blog, if you have one. I look forward to hearing your story.

Fear Factors Continues... Part 2

Windy, Ginger & Butter

Riding English

Riding Miss Daisy circa 2004

The first time I ever rode in an English saddle was about five years ago. I was on Daisy, an old appaloosa mare that the kids rode. I still had some fear issues then and I figured she wouldn’t try to pull anything that would cause me to lose my seat. I sidled her up to a bale of hay to mount and rode down into the pasture. I was feeling pretty smart -- thought I had this English thing figured out -- when she stumbled or stepped in a hole and went down on one knee. I slid straight down her mane-less neck and landed on my belly, spread-eagle in front of her. Thank God there wasn't an audience! There was no mounting block in the pasture and I gave up trying to get back on the tall mare in that little saddle. Defeated, I ended up walking back to the barn. My English riding days were over before they got started!

Not long after that, John bought a used dressage saddle. I don’t know what his plans were for it. The couple times he rode in it, he couldn’t keep his butt in the saddle either & it was retired to gathering dust in the tack room. But last winter, I pulled it out again. Windy was the first horse since Daisy that I trusted enough to give it another whirl. I felt I had grown as a rider since my previous experience and ended up having some nice rides in it. When trail riding season started, it went back into the tack room and I hadn't thought much about it again until recently.

One day last week, all of my western saddles were still in the trailer and I wanted a quick ride. I dusted off the english saddle & put it on Windy. Don’t get me wrong – I still know nothing about riding English. But my seat has improved over the last few years and I no longer feel like I am a “flight risk” for falling out of it (although I'll never say never!). It’s one step up from riding bareback and with Windy’s top line, much more comfortable. Tonight, I even cantered while in that saddle and I have to say it was one of the best rides I have had in a long time! What a rush! Without that bulky western saddle between us, I could only imagine this is the closest to loping bareback I will ever get. And it was great!

Riding Windy Today (my son took the picture & missed her legs!)

The good weather continues. It was actually in the sixties today. This is about 25 to 30 degrees above normal, so we shouldn’t get used to it. But I think God knew I had just about had it with the cold weather and sent me a little bit of much needed warmth today and He gave me some wings to fly!

Raising Baby

We were on a mission to find a horse that summer day in July of 2000. The pony we had hoped to find for the kids, didn’t pan out. But heck, who needed a pony. Let’s get a real horse! Never mind that we had no fencing or a barn. The owner of the pony referred us to another person who referred us to yet a 3rd person who may just have the horse we were looking for!

So we find ourselves literally “seeing a man about a horse”. We pull up to Cowboy’s yard in our Lumina sedan unannounced. He was a friendly enough fellow. “Sure, I got some horses for sale,” he said as he brought up a half dozen or so from the pasture. After deciding on Ginger, I thought our mission was accomplished. But John is continuing to ask questions about a weanling that was among the herd. “Part draft,” the cowboy said. Walked us over to another pen and showed us the dam. This grade mare of quarter & Belgian decent was bred to a full-blooded Belgian and the filly was the result of that breeding. I knew what a quarter horse was. A “draft” to me was a Clydesdale but this weanling had none of those characteristics. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard John say that we would take the weanling, too!

We named our little baby “Dutch”, but because she was “the baby”, she is still known today as “Baby” or “Baby Dutch”. I learned quickly what a Belgian was as I watched this young filly grow bigger and bigger. Those feet, my gosh, were huge! But everything I read about the drafts lead me to believe we would have an easy horse – big – but gentle and kind. And that describes our Baby to a tee.

John has introduced her to driving by simply pulling a skid. She carries the chainsaw behind the saddle when we do trail clearings. She plods along in the Saunders County parade each year and loads up for an occasional trail ride. Under saddle she has a flotty trot and a large step but could really use more time for finesse. She ranks right under Ginger in the herd and can be a bit of a witch to the younger mares.

Last night, I rushed home from work eager to take advantage of this unseasonally warm weather. Baby hasn’t been ridden since..... I don’t know when. And having put a few pounds on the last week or so, I could use a good workout that the big girl offers -- from tossing the saddle way up there to posting her big trot. After saddling, we head to the arena.

We rode the rail at a walk and moved up to a trot. Thought about a small jump over the telephone pole obstacle, but she just plods over it instead. Her whoa is pretty good, but she doesn’t work very well off the leg. Sometimes she gets mixed messages from me or is just being obstinate. Whatever the case, we turned a corner in the arena and she took it wide. Rather than continuing, she turned into the fence and I found her big head over the top wire of an electric fence and that fence was on!

Now don't ask me how an electric fence came about in my arena. It has to do with my husband, his cows and his rented bull. His answer to my objections when I first discovered the hotwire was, "Unplug it when you ride in the arena!" Oh, I'll unplug it alright ... and then snip it with wire cutters!

But meanwhile, back to the story.... Baby backs well and I knew I could back her off the fence, but I also knew it was likely she was going to touch that fence in the process. I didn’t want to be on her when that happened. My little voice shouted, “Bail!” and I swung my leg over. At the time her bit touched the electric fence and I heard the “snap”, my coat became hooked on the horn of the saddle. She turned into me and headed across the arena with some half-hearted Belgian bucks with me hanging on her side. I managed to pull myself back up and pull her in. Neither of us too worse for the wear!


Baby turned 8 years old this year. We don’t need a draft horse. We don’t plan to drive. None of us are very keen on riding her. John always says that if we were starving, she would fill our freezer. (He’s kidding, I think!) So I guess she remains a fixture in our herd. The big girl makes me smile.

Picking up the Pieces

Yep. I’m a chicken. That ol’ fear gene has reared its head again and I am not sure I am going to work past it this time. If Black were the only horse I have… if I loved this horse so much that I couldn’t imagine NOT riding him… if I had one of those personality types that had to prove I was boss… and a handful of other “ifs”, I might work through it. But for today, for now… I’m not tempted.

I really didn’t feel afraid of him after my fall. I was more disappointed than anything as I felt I had come quite a ways with him and with my own confidence issues. My little voice said, “Heal thy ribs and thy bruises.” And most of all “Stay healthy for Cowgirl Weekend!” So he pastured while I recovered. He pastured while I went to Cowgirl Weekend. So today was the day to be reintroduced and see if I could pick up the pieces and go on.

I was disappointed to find John went to football practice with Case. I’ve ridden him in the past when no one was home, but that was “before” the incident. But I had psyched myself out for this day and decided to proceed. I’ve learned long ago I can give myself permission to quit at any time. I tucked my cell phone in my back pocket as I headed out the door.

He walked right up to me in the pasture, quietly slipping into the halter. Followed me quietly to the hitching post. His winter coat has come in and he is very black again. Soft. Pretty. Picked up his feet softly. He let me hold them one by one until I put them down. Tacked him up and took him into the round pen. He waited patiently for me to cue him forward. And gave me a nice trot. He did all the right things.

Put the bridle on and “bit him back” as Brenda taught me. Continued to work him on the ground. He was nicely collected. He looked very pretty. I whoa’d him, petted him and got him ready to mount. He stood quietly as I climbed on. Flexed both directions picked up the reins and cued him forward.

Purposely kept him from the gate. Did serpentines on the other side of the round pen, cutting it in half. He moved nicely off my leg. Seemed to be listening to me. So I let him move to the rail and attempted to go by the gate and was disappointed when he stopped there. And this is when I learned that I wasn’t where I thought I was with him. I couldn’t move him forward.

“Couldn’t”. Not in the physical sense. A better horseperson would not have had a problem moving him away from the gate. Heck, I could do it 30 days ago! But as I clucked and added leg pressure and got no results, I knew I was not brave enough to be any more assertive than that. Where one month ago I used the appropriate pressure to keep him moving beyond, I locked up today.

I dismounted & put the lunge line back on and moved him away from the gate. We worked another 5 minutes going past the gate. I even worked him with me outside the gate keeping him on the rail and not stopping by the gate. Remounted, did the same routine and ended up right back at the gate with sticky feet and a knot in my stomach.

I decided to try ground driving. Hooked up the lunge lines as Brenda had shown me with Windy. (As a side note, whenever I try something I’ve done with Windy on a different horse, it makes me appreciate how easy Windy is.) Black took issue with the driving lines – was a bit confused & skittish. I stayed with him and drove him, but he never relaxed and as a result, nor did I.

I untacked him and left him tied to the hitching post as I went and fetched Butter. I know I am not afraid to ride Windy. But I needed to know that it was Black who I was fearful of – not horses in general. I tacked Butter and took her to the arena. We trotted the rail, went around the obstacles, opened the gate & went down to the cow pasture. Whoops! I forgot the rented bull is in the cow pasture and imagine my surprise when I was riding up to what I thought was Coco the cow and “Bully” rises and gives us the look like “who are you and why are you here!” Butter and I high-tailed it back to the barn. It’s Black. Not Windy or Butter or Blue or Ginger… its Black who has scared me once again.

So…. Where do I stand with this horse? Who knows? I like him. I really do! But I’ve been down the fear road before and not sure I want to travel there again. Is conquering my fear with him worth compromising my confidence with the other horses?

Did he make you cry
Make you break down
Shatter your illusions of love
Is it over now- do you know how
Pick up the pieces and go home

To be continued….

Moving Forward

I’ve watched with interest as my left leg has turned every shade of black and blue. It is still swollen, but not really painful. The color has “leaked” down to my ankle and along my heel. I’ve shown it to as many people that are interested in seeing it! The badge of honor or a sign of craziness… I’m not quite sure.

That left leg of mine has sure taken a beating. Starting with the roller skating accident almost 10 years ago and then Ginger stepping on it and breaking it again in 2005 to this most recent accident! I guess we’ll know where the arthritis will set in first!

On Monday, I pulled Windy from the corral and took her over to the trailer to feed her. (She is getting some special feedings now to prepare for some long fall weekend riding trips.) As she ate, I groomed her. And then felt the overwhelming urge to ride. I saddled her up and swung my leg over. Nothing hurt bad enough to prevent me from riding. And together with Ritz, we headed down the road.

Incidentally, Ritz had been banned from road riding with me up until this point. He was doing awesome until the spring calves were born. And then he took chase. The cow owner’s dogs chased him away before he did any damage. Heck, I was high-tailing it down the road. I wasn’t going to claim him if the farmer came to investigate. “Dog?” I’d say, “What dog? Oh, THAT dog. Nope, don’t know him.”



Anyway, I knew the calves had been weaned as I heard them singing their mournful choir for about 3 days ago (in a corral in the opposite direction), so Ritz was invited to participate once again. I rode Windy down the roads for about an hour. Stopping to let her graze in the ditch before returning home. I could walk and lope without much pain; the trot was a bit more trying, but doable.

Tonight we start fall lessons with Brenda Messick. Although I will probably take Windy tonight, I haven’t ruled out taking the Black to lessons sometime this season. I am not necessarily scared to ride him; I’d always been cautious before. The bucking incident caught me off guard, but I don’t think it is the way things are meant to be with him. And quite frankly, I believe I have made progress with him. I joke that its always more steps back than forward, but I need to stop saying that. It isn’t necessarily true and we have made progress. This past episode may have helped me choose his ultimate destiny, however, as there is only so far I can take him. But he will go backward again if I do nothing more with him.

And Off Again... Literally.

Yesterday I posted the following story on Horsetales. One may find it unusual for me to post this detail about a horse I have for sale. "Yep, no one is going to buy that one now," you might be thinking. Perhaps. But, get to the end of the blog for the thoughts from today -- which may give you a different perspective.

Here was my Horsetales Post:

My last blog entry was titled “Back on Black”. This one could be titled “And Now Off the Black”. Didn’t I say I just wasn’t interested in riding young horses anymore? That something about this horse has always put me on edge? Three steps forward, two steps back? Well, I’m not sure there is any turning back now. I think I’m done.

I have a big camping weekend coming up in just a week and a half. And decided up until that time, I will ride Black or one of the others rather than risk Windy getting hurt – especially when some of the places we ride are muddy and slick right now. Since this morning’s ride was going to be in the arena, figured it was as good a place as any to ride Black. And felt extra good about the day when he loaded into the two horse trailer on the first send, stood quietly while I picked his feet and seemed very level as I lunged him in the round pen in an unfamiliar arena.

Sticky feet. Told Sheila that Brenda recommends ground driving to help with that. He would follow other horses, but real reluctant to go and explore on his own. So we started by following Deb and Jim and then Cooper and Sheila. We’d break off, circle and then come back to the group. Truly, we were to the point of taking extended stays at other less populated areas of the arena. We checked out the stuffed gorilla, the barrels, followed Jim through the poles. Put one foot on a plank placed in the arena -- couldn’t get the other foot on it, but one was good. He snorted at the yellow tarp but then relaxed. I wouldn’t let him cross it as I have a fear of shod horses and tarps, so that was my choice not to – but kind of think he may have.

Deb brought out a big ball. This caught Black’s attention. Almost the same reaction as he had to cows last winter at Chance Ridge. Ears up, alert & moving toward the ball. Jess’ Cutter was moving it and Black was perhaps at his shoulder or flank. I sensed he only had an interest in the ball, not a fear.

I’ve heard people say “the horse just blew!” And I always believed there had to be something that caused “the blow”. Whether it be a tack problem, a spook, insects… I was of the assumption that SOMETHING has to happen. But as the six of us dissected the event, none of us could come up with a reason. He reacted like he had something wrapped around his legs. He didn’t, but that was the reaction as he tucked his head, rounded his back and four feet left the ground like a bronc out of the gate at a rodeo. I recall riding out a few of the blasts. Thinking once about trying to one rein stop, but the hand couldn’t coordinate it – either I was hanging on or the brainwaves just wouldn’t work. I remember not wanting to fall close to his feet. I recall hearing Sheila say “get back” or something to that sort. The girls say I lasted 8 seconds, but I think they were being nice.

My helmet took the impact right above the left temple followed by my jaw and shoulder. I think my elbow went into my ribs. I have a new growth under my left knee that Deb says looks like a grew a new appendage. Wasn’t sure if it came from the impact of a hoof. John says its hoof sized. My right knee is also bruised – I think it could have collided with my left knee… so who knows. I ate dirt and sawdust and saw my horse continue to buck on down the arena.

Why is it when you fall from a horse, your first impulse is to get up quickly and announce “I’m okay!” And I did get up and I was okay. But I also sat back down just to catch my breath and assess the damage, if any. Good to have two nurses on hand when you take a dive! I am pretty sure Polly was ready to call 911; but I convinced her I just needed water. The other nurse, Sheila, caught the beast and put him in the round pen.

When I got up from the arena ground for the second time, I had flashes of injured football players rising and the fans applauding! I wanted to applaud for myself. I’m 47 years old and took quite a fall and everything still seems to work. I’m alive! And then I hobbled to the round pen and lunged my Black colt and with Sheila’s help, I got back on. I rode him for a few minutes and gladly followed Sheila’s advise that enough was enough… don’t’ push it. And I didn’t.

I rode Jake for a bit and then Cooper. But with the “appendage” growing out of my shinbone right into where I touch the saddle, it wasn’t comfortable. But the boys took good care of me when I dropped the stirrup.

My good friend, Kathy Newberg, told me not to take offense at what she was going to say – that I was “no trainer” and I shouldn’t be doing this. She is right. I’m not and I shouldn’t. I’m not out to prove anything – just trying to build a future for this horse. But I think I’ve gone as far as I can. I know this. And McCain knows it, too, when I came hobbling into the house tonight.

He’s a good age. We’ve taken him a lot of places and asked him to do things on the trail that a lot of horses haven’t done. He just needs the holes I left open, filled in. I believe the colt is very insecure. He needs a strong leader and a consistent training regimen. I can’t give him either.

What his future hold; I can’t say. My head hurts right now. And my knee. I’ll think about it tomorrow or the next day….

Oh, and am I ever grateful I had a helmet on my head. I did see stars when I hit, but the helmet took the brunt of the impact. I would hate to have thought about that force without it.



Today's Perspective

Today I woke up to new aches and pains. No worse for the wear than yesterday and truth be known, I feel better mentally and physically. My shinbone still has a huge lump that is turning some crazy colors and my entire body feels like it did when I was in a car accident some time ago. But none of the pieces are broken. I think I'll live.

I mentioned on Horsetales that this horse needs someone more confident than I am and a consistent training regimen to be successful. I still stand by this thought. But the interesting comment I had was from a very respected horsewoman who knows this horse and knows horse behavior, especially in regards to cow work. She said:

"I can give you my guess as to what happened with the Black colt as
I've seen it many times when a colt first alerts to something that
puts him into the chase mode. First they loose any attention they
have on their rider or just decide that they would rather dump the
rider to get on with the game. Almost always happens the first time
a colt is sent after a cow – for that matter may it even happen with
a broke horse when given permission to chase on a loose rein. The
more intent the horse is on the object he is chasing the more likely
he will buck on a loose rein on the initial run.

I watched the Black horse when you first introduced him to chasing
cattle and knew immediately that he was intent on the game. He has a lot of "cow" in him.

You said that his ears went forward and his attention went to the
ball. I would be willing to bet that you also felt him loosen up his
stickiness at the same time. Sure not making any excuses for the
horse but know you're wondering why he did what he did. He blew
because he wanted to play his own game on his own terms. Sure
doesn't make it hurt any less but may give you some idea as to why it
happened."

If I didn't know better, I would have thought this person was in the arena with me. But she wasn't. But the horse pretty much mirrored what she mentions. Does it change anything with me? Not sure. I really don't think we need him. The trust is broken; its going to be hard to get that back. But I don't want to drop him at a sale and hope for the best. The only thing I have decided so far is to continue to work with him as I can. May not be in the saddle, but there are other options. Perhaps a real cowboy will read this and tell me "Hey, I'll take your pony!" :)

Meanwhile, I'll show you my bruise like a badge of honor! Hey, us horsepeople are weird that way!