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

A "Grand Finale" To A Friend

On Saturday afternoon, I got a phone call from my friend and trainer, Brenda Messick. Some of you may read her blog, Horses Are Our Life. She had just completed Day 1 of the Indian Cave Competitive Trail Ride when her horse, Finny, appeared to be colicking. She called from the road and was rushing him to her vet. My heart skipped a beat and I said a silent prayer for both of them….

I’m knocking wood as I write this, as we haven’t experienced colic in our herd, but often thought about it like one does about a number of undesirable sicknesses and diseases – knowing it exists but hoping it doesn’t come knocking on our door. I know it’s not necessarily a death sentence and depending on the severity, could be treated with something as mild as hand walking and Banamine or being “oiled” by the vet. But the nightmares we hear about colic involves surgery being the only option to save the horse. I cringe at the thought.

I could argue that horses are a necessity to maintaining my mental health, but the reality is I can pull my emotions in check when faced with what could be a very large veterinary expense. Over a decade ago, I recall thinking the platinum MasterCard was going to save the life of my beloved dog, Macy, only to have to have her put down two days later. Paying that monthly installment for “the try” was a bitter reminder of thinking with my heart and not my head and of what we loved and lost. It taught me not everything we love can be saved, the vets aren’t God and that sometimes we just have to say goodbye. I was at peace with that school of thought when my young gelding, Gunner, was mortally injured in a pasture accident years later. I won’t say it didn’t suck, because it did.

Finny was Brenda’s baby – almost literally -- as his dam died of colic when he was a foal. Brenda raised the young colt to become the fine 8-year-old gelding. The black horse, standing 15.3 hh, was quite striking with his tall white socks and his off-center wide blaze. Finny was not only recognized for regularly placing the last couple years in many of NATRC’s Region 6 Competitive Trail Rides, but he also served as a lesson horse and was a favorite among Brenda’s students.

I’ve known Finny since I’ve known Brenda. While taking lessons, she would be mounted on Finny, demonstrating what Windy and I should be doing while we never mastered it as eloquently as Finny could. Windy was comfortable with Finny and he was one of the few horses she wouldn’t pin her ears at. I think she must have had a crush on him.


Brenda and I both like to ride fast. The clouds in the distance didn’t seem a threat on what looked like a beautiful summer day last year when we were trotting and loping down the Oak Creek Trail. But the further out we got, the closer the clouds came toward us and before long, we were dodging lightning bolts in the pouring rain! On Finny and Windy, we ran for cover and waited out the storm. And as soon as the storm lifted, we raced our horses back to the trailers, freezing in our wet clothes.

More recently, we met prior to a Platte River Riders ride to put in some long trotting before the rest of the group arrived. With Windy leading, we began crossing the narrow, arched bridge. About half way across, the bridge started to wobble. Windy stopped, obviously concerned. It was too narrow for her to turn around, and no matter how I prodded her, no way, no how was she going to go forward! So she started to back up. Finny was right behind us and being the good sport he was, rather than fight to move forward, he went into reverse, too. And both horses gracefully backed all the way off that bridge!


We teamed up with Brenda and Finny at the Stephen’s Forest CTR a few weeks ago. I remember how excited we were after the “trot and jump” obstacle that we both nailed! And a funny moment started out not so funny when Windy was stung by a horse fly and started to buck as the relentless bug came back for more. I told Brenda we needed to get out of here fast. “Run!” Brenda, confused by the urgency caused by a horse fly, moved off the trail so Windy and I could quickly pass. As I am galloping down the trail, I glance behind me and see Brenda and Finny now at a dead run behind us! After our sudden departure, it seemed the fly had set it sights on poor Finny!

Windy and Finny’s pace was well matched. Finny was usually in the lead with his bold extended trot and I would try to keep Windy at least a horse length behind him. But what I remember most, was the times our horses were side by side, matching hoof falls, running through the forest.


Brenda’s Finny was diagnosed with a twisted gut and the vet concurred that she was losing him. She made the heartbreaking decision to take his pain away and let him go. I still find myself tearing up as I type this. I’m so glad I had that last ride with Finny and such good memories from that fall weekend.

My heart breaks for Brenda and the loss of her partner, Blues Grand Finale. Only the good die young, it seems. God speed, Finny. I’ll miss running next to you.

Getting My Groove Back

So maybe I jumped the gun...

After work last night, I worked out at Curves. While there, the sun came out and the day turned pleasant. Any other day I would be looking forward to coming home and riding Windy. What was wrong with me? How could I let a couple of challenging spring rides undo the last four years of success?

To hell with it. I hurried home and changed clothes. Decided I can be just as belligerent as she can as I slipped on my spurs. Haven’t worn them in a while; had to search for them! Saddled her up, jumped on and headed out the driveway. At her first act of defiance, I gently touched my spur to her side. She got the message real quick. Spent the next hour riding the cornfield and beanfield. Would occasionally give her a break in the pasture and let her graze. By the time we got back home, we had come to a quiet understanding.

Tonight I rode her almost 4 miles. Lots of long trotting and some loping. Mostly on a loose rein. We definitely got our groove back. Tomorrow we’ll ride with the Platte River Riders again. I expect she’ll be a little higher in a group, but now that I got my confidence back somewhat, we can work through it together.

Thanks everyone for your comments and private emails of support. I’m not saying I am out of the woods yet, but no longer on the dark side.

Fear's Ugly Head

I’m stuck. Although I've never said I had the perfect horse, we’ve grown together as as a team the last few years. I was comfortable and confident and we had some remarkable rides. And now with ride season taking off, I am finding new challenges in her attitude that have me puzzled. The last two rides, my mare was lazy and unwilling, moody and a bit unpredictable – displaying some undesirable attitude I haven’t seen for years. Her teeth were done in November and I treated her for an abscess during that same time. Otherwise, there have been no health or lameness issues that I could contribute to this attitude problem.

Although I saw some glimpses of this earlier this season, I wrote it off to riding less during the winter and needing to get our groove back. And while I think the right person can bring her back from the dark side – and that person should be me – some of my fear issues have surfaced that have been lying semi-dormant for some time. Fear can be your friend when it is reasonable. It can be your downfall when it isn’t. I don’t know how to classify it right now. I just know that I need to be the strong one and I’m turning to mush.

The weather has not cooperated enough for any consistent riding. Where there may be one good day to ride, the next day its raining or snowing or windy or cold or all of the above. So I end the ride frustrated and can do nothing about it except obsess over it for the next few days. Literally drive my friends nuts with over analyzing the situation. Torn between having John ride the hell out of her or giving it all up and doing needle point. (Highly unlikely, but sounds safe!) I just hate being in this funk! Being stuck!

Real Fear

A friend was giving lessons to a young girl today and met the child’s mother for the first time. She asked the mother if she rode. The mother told my friend that she used to, but was injured on a horse when she was in high school and hasn’t ridden again. My friend asked if she still had the desire and the woman said “I’m not sure….”

I’ve written about fear before on Horsetrailriders.com Stable Talk. In brief, I went through an “unreasonable fear” phase. Now, after almost a decade of riding, I still have my moments. But the things I am fearful of are within reason. Rather than being afraid, I call it “being careful.” I’m careful about what horse I ride, where I ride and who I ride with. I learn to listen to the “little voice” that has proven to be right more times than wrong. Call it intuition or EF Hutton – I listen.

Yesterday I watched helplessly as a friend took a bad fall from her horse. It happened a second after she mounted and was totally unexpected. It was a horse she knew well and none of us, including her, saw any warning signs while she warmed him up. It was simply just “one of those things.” She’s no amateur – probably one of the most experienced horse women I know. In another incident, Lisa, a fellow blogger from Laughing Orca Ranch, is recovering from a knee injury and subsequent surgery following an unplanned dismount. And my bruises haven’t completely faded from my September accident. It happens. But I hate to see it, hear about it or be victim to it.

A nurse friend told me that medical personnel question the sanity of horse people. I can think of quite a few other activities that are equally, if not more risky. Motorcycling, snow skiing – heck, even football to some extent! But age wise, I am sure equestrian events are one of the more dangerous sports that (forgive me for using this word) “middle aged” women participate in. And it definitely is a sickness for many of us.

Even with lingering fear issues, I got back on my colt. Lisa recently made a visit to her barn. And as she nurses her leg, my friend is probably re-riding that horse in her mind, trying to find a clue to what set him off. I’m sure they are both counting the days until they can ride again. I wonder if the mother, who in her youth was injured, will once again uncover the passion which fear has taken from her and her daughter is now enjoying?

It's boots and chaps

It's cowboy hats

It's spurs and latigo

It's the ropes and the reins

And the joy and the pain

And they call the thing rodeo

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!