Blue Boy

I have spent a lot of time on this blog talking about working with Black or riding Windy that I feel I’m a bit neglectful where the other horses are concerned. Not just in working with them, but talking about them, taking their pictures – bragging or cussing – whatever the situation warrants. Since Blue photographed so well for me this past weekend, today’s blog will be his.

We’d only had Ginger and Baby a few months. I don’t know that we planned on getting a horse for each one of us, but I had grown afraid of Ginger. We bought an old mare for the kids and started looking for something more appropriate for me. We found a pretty bay saddlebred mare. She rode nice for the owner; she rode nice for John. I rode her about 100 yards after purchasing her and dismounted. I would rather take my chances on Ginger. That is when John said, “Are we doing to do this horse thing or not?”



Some friends mentioned a black gelding they knew was for sale. He had spent some time with a trainer, ponied at the track for a bit – had a good start; gentle. He was a four year old. We made the trip over by Omaha to look at him. He was seemed nice. The owner lunged him and I was quite impressed! The first time I had ever seen lunging done so pretty and so successful! We took turns riding him in the arena. I liked him. I told her about my fear of Ginger & she told me (quite frankly, I might add), that if I have any problems with him, it is MY problem, not HIS! Well, I guess she told me! John wrote the check and told me “Merry Christmas.”



Blue’s lack of perfection probably wasn’t his fault. I think he knew more than me, but he also knew enough to take care of me. And slowly I regained my confidence. I could pull the kids up behind me in the saddle; I could go about anywhere on Blue. He became my buddy, my friend. And although I could get him to do most anything on the trail, he had (has) a couple idiosyncrasies. One can be endearing & the other maddening.

The endearing one is his spook! Now I’m not saying riding a spooky horse is cool. I’m just saying that Blue sees things differently than the rest of us and it is a game as to whether something on the trail will put him on alert or if he’ll pass with no issues. I swear, some days you could pass a mailbox with a cornstalks, a scarecrow and an American flag & the most he’ll do is try to eat the cornstalk. The next time you ride he will do a 180 over a pop can along side of the road. It is always an adventure with Blue.

What drove me crazy with Blue was his refusal to load in a two horse trailer. He will run and darn near load himself in the big trailer, but literally would throw himself on the ground over getting in a two horse trailer. Finally, I gave up. If we took the two horse, Blue just wasn’t going. It was only when the truck stalled pulling the four horse trailer & the option was to go home and get the Suburban with the two horse that I realized this is a problem. I may have to just ride Blue home. With the help of a trainer, after 7 years, he finally loads. (I haven’t taken him anywhere in it lately in it … but I THINK he will… Hmm. Maybe we had better have a refresher course….)



I lost Blue to my kids! I moved on to other horses because I trusted Blue with the boys and the boys spent so much time behind me on him, that they trusted him. Over the next few years, he carried one or the other of the boys on the trails. He seemed to know he was carrying precious cargo. He was who my niece would ride when she was here and other less horse savvy friends or relatives. He is who I would follow when on a young horse. I knew if heading down a hill that I could tell the kids to “whoa Blue” and his big butt would keep my young horse from taking the hill too fast or not in control. On occasion though, I would still saddle up my boy. And it’s like coming home when I climb aboard.

Blue took a hiatus last year when McCain started riding Black. I would take him out occasionally, but he saw less trail time that year than any. But when plans were made to go to South Dakota this spring, Blue once again made the travel team. I didn’t get as much time to leg him up as I hoped, but he was up to the challenge and traveled well. And he carried McCain through the Black Hills.



Blue is twelve years old now. This past weekend, I took Blue on a short ride down our roads. The devil got his tail a few times at what he thought were the “children of the corn” (I saw nothing, I swear!) But he relaxed when we got to a nice grassy area along side of the road and I stopped a few minutes to let him graze. We walked, we trotted, we loped. I was home again.

I’m lucky to have two great horses in my life that I call my own: my “go to” Blue and my “dream horse”, Windy.

Care to share about your first horse? You may post in the comments anonymously.

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Not horse related, but I have to share this picture! There were less than 2 minutes in the game & our team was down by 4 points. The ball was fired into the end zone to our son, Case. He caught it! We won! And the crowd went wild!! (Or at least Mom did!)

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….