Once upon a time there was a big green and white and brown deck umbrella that made it's home peacefully propped up in a table on the deck.
Then, one night, a big storm blew up, snapped the wood pole of that huge umbrella and sent it flying over the house, bouncing across a pasture and dumped unceremoniously into the fence where it got stuck.
And the horses freaked.
Big time freaked and snorted, ran and blew loud blasts of air from their flaring nostrils. They ran in circles, tails over their rumps, heads high, sweat soon steaming off their bodies. And Gabe did his best to stay firmly and safely behind the other two just in case that big, horse-eating, open-mawed monster decided to extricate itself from the fence and come after them. He didn't have to outrun the umbrella, he only had to outrun Chief and Calypso. The logic of horses is simple.
I watched them act like morons for several hours then decided to head out and remove the umbrella from the fence myself. The wind in the open umbrella was doing nothing to help preserve the tautness of my fence and really, I was kind of tired of looking at it there. It depressed me. Those things are pricey and this one was pretty shredded and beyond saving.
I pulled it out of the fence, closed it up and dumped it on the other side of the fence by the driveway to pick up later. Besides, I figured the horses needed ANOTHER heart attack and could just deal with it being there.
Later that day, completely forgetting the big scary horse-devouring umbrella was still sunning itself between the driveway and the fence, Kayleigh and I went out for a ride, she on Calypso bareback, me on Gabe. He was being fabulous: Quiet and responsive and just good, especially considering I haven't been able to ride for a couple of weeks.
Then, he saw it. The big scary horrible horse eating umbrella on the ground. Oh. My. God.
Remember this trail ride disaster?
Same thing, but take away cows and instead insert inert, yet terrifying, umbrella.
Wow. He wouldn't go near that thing until I got off (I will not admit to maybe having some help getting off when the rearing and general idiocy really kicked in) and led his big ass over to it. If I went first, he had no issues. I could kick it, drag it, wiggle it, touch him with it, open it in front of him and make him walk back and forth over it, which I did, repeatedly until he relaxed, which really took a very, very short time.
Then I got back on and he freaked out again and absolutely, positively refused to get near it. Images of glue and dog food and yes, even horse steaks, were flitting through my head. I even imagined a nice horse-skin rug in front of the fireplace.
All I have to say it's a darn good thing I've learned a butt load of patience since my not-so-patient youth.
Finally, he gave in and sidled up to it sideways and wide-eyed, then stepped over it, snorting.
Turn around, go back over. Turn around, go back over. Rinse and repeat for about half an hour at all gaits. I got off and moved it again, back to where it was when I pulled it from the fence and tossed it between the fence and driveway.
Meltdown #3 and he absolutely refused to walk by it until I got off and led him by it in both directions. What is it with this horse? Seriously. I don't get it. Calypso pricked her ears at it, sidled sideways, snorted, then went by it when it was still in the ditch the first time and got over it entirely.
Gabe, a completely different story. If I'm leading him, he's fine. If I'm on him, it's no longer okay. If I move the thing he had been going back and forth over so much it became boring, it's a brand new big scary horrible thing and we're back to square one.
I'm trying to unravel how his brain works, but I'm starting to think that maybe it doesn't. Suggestions? Ideas? Clues? I'm running out of them.
Showing posts with label naughty naughty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label naughty naughty. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
The Mist
My only conclusion is: Aliens stole his ever-lovin' mind and replaced it with mashed potatoes.
Seriously.
Gabe absolutely, completely and entirely lost it Sunday afternoon. Sure, it was quite foggy out, sure it was quiet and still and wet, maybe my dumb dog did decide that running mad circles around us and under us was a good idea and perhaps Chief was being a little stupid too, but that was no excuse for Gabe to behave the way he did.
This was his worst behavior ever and honestly, it scared me. Not because he threatened to throw me and run away, but because he was spinning in tight little circles, cantering sideways (I think we may have even cantered backwards a couple of times), blowing hard, tucking his chin to his chest and hopping, tossing his head and trying to rear and spin at every. little. sound. We didn't even make it halfway down the driveway when Chief (whom Kayleigh was riding bareback) spooked sideways, snorted and startled the crap out of Gabe, immediately putting him on an even higher level of stupid. I was more worried that we would slip and fall in the mud and occasional patch of ice or go sideways down a ravine than I was worried he'd run off with me. Running off I can handle, horse falling on me, I cannot. I got off, put him on the line and worked with him for a bit trying to get him to switch from reactive to thinking side of brain.
Failure. Massive. He was good and long gone, deep into his reactive, flighty brain and there was just not a whole lot I could do to get him back without risking a slip and fall. That's how awful he was. Because it wasn't just mud, it was a layer of mud over permafrost. Super super slick. Even the grass was slick. Ugh.
But I couldn't untack him and put him away after this awful, horrible, no good, extremely dangerous kind of behavior. So, into the arena we went with the idea to just work and work and work at the walk until I got his brain back. I wanted to avoid the arena in the first place (which is why we were heading down the driveway) because it was wet and I didn't want to destroy it. Fail.
The fog was heavy and dripping from the trees. It was misty, my face, helmet, saddle and horse soaked from it. The whiteness oozing around the trees and deep into the wood was heavily, eerily quiet. A still, deep kind of quiet that Stephen King writes about. I understand why he lost it, but that is no excuse, it's not even a good reason, period.
So we walked (kind of), flexed left and right (he got my toe popped in his nose a few times for biting), circled, halted, backed, more flexing, lots of stop and go. I flopped and flapped around on his back, I yelled into the woods so it would echo eerily back, I made him walk into the woods where he DIDN'T want to go ("Heart attacks are free. Give your horse one every day." - Clinton Anderson) and did everything he didn't want to do (at a walk-jig-wiggle) until he decided to just WALK. Whew. Who knew walking quietly was so damned HARD!?
Once I got the walk and he could stay at the walk without jigging, jogging, shimmying or scurrying, we trotted. And trotted. And trotted. I circled and circled and circled on a loose rein, keeping him moving forward until he sighed, dropped his head and licked his lips and I felt him really give in and relax. There is a big, muddy, icky circle in my arena now. Nice.
It only took 45 minutes to go from OH MY GOD I'M DYING!!! YOU'RE DYING! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!! over-reactive to relaxed and licking his lips quiet. Yeah. Only 45 minutes. Ha! I don't know what got into him, but it was completely unexpected and entirely out-of-character for both him and Chief. I do expect the occasional silly stupids from Gabe, I can handle the silly stupids and usually do so with a smile and a correction, but this was dangerous and scary, and I don't typically get scared easily in the saddle. If he behaved regularly like he behaved Sunday, I'd be worried about getting on him and he'd most likely find himself in a new home pretty quick.
Whew. Dumb horses.
Seriously.
Gabe absolutely, completely and entirely lost it Sunday afternoon. Sure, it was quite foggy out, sure it was quiet and still and wet, maybe my dumb dog did decide that running mad circles around us and under us was a good idea and perhaps Chief was being a little stupid too, but that was no excuse for Gabe to behave the way he did.
This was his worst behavior ever and honestly, it scared me. Not because he threatened to throw me and run away, but because he was spinning in tight little circles, cantering sideways (I think we may have even cantered backwards a couple of times), blowing hard, tucking his chin to his chest and hopping, tossing his head and trying to rear and spin at every. little. sound. We didn't even make it halfway down the driveway when Chief (whom Kayleigh was riding bareback) spooked sideways, snorted and startled the crap out of Gabe, immediately putting him on an even higher level of stupid. I was more worried that we would slip and fall in the mud and occasional patch of ice or go sideways down a ravine than I was worried he'd run off with me. Running off I can handle, horse falling on me, I cannot. I got off, put him on the line and worked with him for a bit trying to get him to switch from reactive to thinking side of brain.
Failure. Massive. He was good and long gone, deep into his reactive, flighty brain and there was just not a whole lot I could do to get him back without risking a slip and fall. That's how awful he was. Because it wasn't just mud, it was a layer of mud over permafrost. Super super slick. Even the grass was slick. Ugh.
But I couldn't untack him and put him away after this awful, horrible, no good, extremely dangerous kind of behavior. So, into the arena we went with the idea to just work and work and work at the walk until I got his brain back. I wanted to avoid the arena in the first place (which is why we were heading down the driveway) because it was wet and I didn't want to destroy it. Fail.
The fog was heavy and dripping from the trees. It was misty, my face, helmet, saddle and horse soaked from it. The whiteness oozing around the trees and deep into the wood was heavily, eerily quiet. A still, deep kind of quiet that Stephen King writes about. I understand why he lost it, but that is no excuse, it's not even a good reason, period.
So we walked (kind of), flexed left and right (he got my toe popped in his nose a few times for biting), circled, halted, backed, more flexing, lots of stop and go. I flopped and flapped around on his back, I yelled into the woods so it would echo eerily back, I made him walk into the woods where he DIDN'T want to go ("Heart attacks are free. Give your horse one every day." - Clinton Anderson) and did everything he didn't want to do (at a walk-jig-wiggle) until he decided to just WALK. Whew. Who knew walking quietly was so damned HARD!?
Once I got the walk and he could stay at the walk without jigging, jogging, shimmying or scurrying, we trotted. And trotted. And trotted. I circled and circled and circled on a loose rein, keeping him moving forward until he sighed, dropped his head and licked his lips and I felt him really give in and relax. There is a big, muddy, icky circle in my arena now. Nice.
It only took 45 minutes to go from OH MY GOD I'M DYING!!! YOU'RE DYING! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!! over-reactive to relaxed and licking his lips quiet. Yeah. Only 45 minutes. Ha! I don't know what got into him, but it was completely unexpected and entirely out-of-character for both him and Chief. I do expect the occasional silly stupids from Gabe, I can handle the silly stupids and usually do so with a smile and a correction, but this was dangerous and scary, and I don't typically get scared easily in the saddle. If he behaved regularly like he behaved Sunday, I'd be worried about getting on him and he'd most likely find himself in a new home pretty quick.
Whew. Dumb horses.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Mr. Pushy Bites-A-Lot
After spending most of Saturday clearing the woods for a new fence (and a new pasture!), we didn't have a whole lot of daylight left to get to the groundwork I wanted to do. But, in spite of the quickly darkening day, my daughter and I pulled out our horses and managed to get about 20 minutes of work in.
Kayleigh (my 10-year-old daughter) has never done any kind of ground work with the horses before. She used Calypso for this new adventure and was quite thrilled with how responsive Calypso was to her. She had her backing up with the twitch of her lead rope, moving her haunches and shoulders easily just by motioning towards her and stopping on a dime. That mare was following her at a respectful distance and had her ears and eyes stuck to her the entire time, watching her every move and waiting for the next task.
The need to explain to Kayleigh WHY we were doing the things we were doing with the horses on the ground really helped cement my need to really work with Gabe on those basic fundamentals.
Calypso, while a very bossy lead mare in the pasture, really likes to have a strong leader in her person and responds very quickly and very well to even a tiny kid like Kayleigh. Kayleigh was thrilled to death and was having a lot of fun working with the mare. She said she can't wait to do it again!
Gabe, on the other hand, is easily bossed and moved around the pasture by Chief and Calypso but pushes me and other people around more than he should. I notice it with other people and get on his case about it, but as with most things, I was the last to notice he was doing it to me, too.
I never really realized how pushy he had become with me until I got him on the ground and started trying to move him around. Backing up was pretty much nonexistent when I asked him for it. Funny, considering backing up while in the saddle is our biggest safety issue - he does it when he decides he doesn't want to do something I've asked and he's dangerous about it. Instead of backing when I asked, he came towards me and nipped me more than a few times. He got smacked and backed hard and fast for biting. He kept moving into my space and trying to push me around. I can only surmise that the biting and the moving into my space was his way of telling me HE was the boss, not ME.
Which is a great big fat no go.
He refused to move his haunches or his shoulders over when I asked. That big fart stood there with his feet planted and completely ignored me. Ugh. I had to go to the stick to get him to move even a tiny bit. Hugely frustrating.
This is a different horse than he was when I first worked with him on the ground when I brought him home as a three year old. At three he was much more willing to let me be the leader and moved where I wanted him to. Which is why I never imagined I'd have these issues now.
Now, he's not so willing to let me be the leader. Somewhere along the line I've failed him, in his eyes, as a proper leader and he's felt the need to take over the role. Probably because I've let him get away with coming into my space and being pushy for the past year.
Re-establishing my leadership in this relationship is now a top priority. I'm just so frustrated with myself for letting it get this out of control and not even REALIZING it had gone as far as it's gone. UGH.
Kayleigh (my 10-year-old daughter) has never done any kind of ground work with the horses before. She used Calypso for this new adventure and was quite thrilled with how responsive Calypso was to her. She had her backing up with the twitch of her lead rope, moving her haunches and shoulders easily just by motioning towards her and stopping on a dime. That mare was following her at a respectful distance and had her ears and eyes stuck to her the entire time, watching her every move and waiting for the next task.
The need to explain to Kayleigh WHY we were doing the things we were doing with the horses on the ground really helped cement my need to really work with Gabe on those basic fundamentals.
Calypso, while a very bossy lead mare in the pasture, really likes to have a strong leader in her person and responds very quickly and very well to even a tiny kid like Kayleigh. Kayleigh was thrilled to death and was having a lot of fun working with the mare. She said she can't wait to do it again!
Gabe, on the other hand, is easily bossed and moved around the pasture by Chief and Calypso but pushes me and other people around more than he should. I notice it with other people and get on his case about it, but as with most things, I was the last to notice he was doing it to me, too.
I never really realized how pushy he had become with me until I got him on the ground and started trying to move him around. Backing up was pretty much nonexistent when I asked him for it. Funny, considering backing up while in the saddle is our biggest safety issue - he does it when he decides he doesn't want to do something I've asked and he's dangerous about it. Instead of backing when I asked, he came towards me and nipped me more than a few times. He got smacked and backed hard and fast for biting. He kept moving into my space and trying to push me around. I can only surmise that the biting and the moving into my space was his way of telling me HE was the boss, not ME.
Which is a great big fat no go.
He refused to move his haunches or his shoulders over when I asked. That big fart stood there with his feet planted and completely ignored me. Ugh. I had to go to the stick to get him to move even a tiny bit. Hugely frustrating.
This is a different horse than he was when I first worked with him on the ground when I brought him home as a three year old. At three he was much more willing to let me be the leader and moved where I wanted him to. Which is why I never imagined I'd have these issues now.
Now, he's not so willing to let me be the leader. Somewhere along the line I've failed him, in his eyes, as a proper leader and he's felt the need to take over the role. Probably because I've let him get away with coming into my space and being pushy for the past year.
Re-establishing my leadership in this relationship is now a top priority. I'm just so frustrated with myself for letting it get this out of control and not even REALIZING it had gone as far as it's gone. UGH.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Going somewhere? Not any time soon, apparently
Oh, we have a problem. It's one of those fun problems all horse owners LOVE to deal with and figure out how to solve.
Gabe has decided he doesn't like to get on the horse trailer. Period. He has always jumped right up and I know he had plenty of trailering experience while he raced, so this decision of his boggles me.
Saturday one of my riding buddies came over to pick us up so we could haul to a park to ride. Gabe has not had an issue with her trailer in the past and really seems to like her mare.
But this time, he took one look at that trailer and one look at the cute palomino mare waiting for him inside and pretty much said "Nope. Not today. I've better things to do."
Gah. I don't have a whole lot of patience for horses I KNOW know how to load and then simply decide they don't want to today. He and I apparently can both be pretty stubborn in out decisions. I don't believe in beating them until they decide to get on, but I can get exasperated and all him ugly names and tell him how dumb he is.
It took 15 minutes to convince him to get on the trailer to haul out and all it took was me slowing down and giving him some time to think it over instead of continuously walking him back up to the trailer and trying to convince him to put his feet on it over and over and over again.
All he wanted to do was stand there and think about it for awhile. Bribery didn't hurt.
He got on, we went on a wonderful, beautiful, fall colors gorgeous trail ride in which he behaved brilliantly.
Until it was time to get BACK on the trailer.
Yeah. Nope.
It took us even longer this time. He'd get three feet on and stand there all stretched out reaching for the grain I had in my hand. And just stand there. And stand. Then take a calm step backward when he changed his mind about it. Grrrr....patience was wearing thin but I wasn't going to beat him onto the trailer. That solves nothing and make the next time even worse.
So we waiting. And we waited. And I cajoled and bribed and called him horrible names and threatened to leave him in the woods all alone without dinner or peppermints.
Eventually, he sighed, and stepped all the way on the trailer. I guess he'd had enough.
So, guess what I'll be working on as much as possible?
Yeah. That trailer loading thing. Seems someone needs a reminder seminar.
Gabe has decided he doesn't like to get on the horse trailer. Period. He has always jumped right up and I know he had plenty of trailering experience while he raced, so this decision of his boggles me.
Saturday one of my riding buddies came over to pick us up so we could haul to a park to ride. Gabe has not had an issue with her trailer in the past and really seems to like her mare.
But this time, he took one look at that trailer and one look at the cute palomino mare waiting for him inside and pretty much said "Nope. Not today. I've better things to do."
Gah. I don't have a whole lot of patience for horses I KNOW know how to load and then simply decide they don't want to today. He and I apparently can both be pretty stubborn in out decisions. I don't believe in beating them until they decide to get on, but I can get exasperated and all him ugly names and tell him how dumb he is.
It took 15 minutes to convince him to get on the trailer to haul out and all it took was me slowing down and giving him some time to think it over instead of continuously walking him back up to the trailer and trying to convince him to put his feet on it over and over and over again.
All he wanted to do was stand there and think about it for awhile. Bribery didn't hurt.
He got on, we went on a wonderful, beautiful, fall colors gorgeous trail ride in which he behaved brilliantly.
Until it was time to get BACK on the trailer.
Yeah. Nope.
It took us even longer this time. He'd get three feet on and stand there all stretched out reaching for the grain I had in my hand. And just stand there. And stand. Then take a calm step backward when he changed his mind about it. Grrrr....patience was wearing thin but I wasn't going to beat him onto the trailer. That solves nothing and make the next time even worse.
So we waiting. And we waited. And I cajoled and bribed and called him horrible names and threatened to leave him in the woods all alone without dinner or peppermints.
Eventually, he sighed, and stepped all the way on the trailer. I guess he'd had enough.
So, guess what I'll be working on as much as possible?
Yeah. That trailer loading thing. Seems someone needs a reminder seminar.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
A monster in the cornfield
If I didn't know better I'd swear there was cuttin' horse blood coursing through my Thoroughbred's blue-blooded veins.
That boy can drop rump and spin 180-degrees without thinking about it then take off like his tail was on fire. It's actually quite fun to ride...when I know it's coming!
Last night's arena ride was lazy and slow but we did good work. I remembered to ride the effort, but also took the time to just give him his head and let him find his own way without me nagging at him. I can become quite a "nagging" rider if I don't keep myself in check, especially on Gabe. He never expends more energy than he absolutely has to, so, to keep him working at a good walk or trot, I have to keep on him, pushing, pushing, pushing. Unfortunately I've been known to get stuck in the rut of pushing and nudging...I get into a rhythm...and I forget to give him the release/reward when he DOES step up. I worked on very obviously giving him a release when he stepped up like I asked. Granted, he reverts back to the drag-butt pace in a few strides, but I gave him release and only "nagged" at him when he started dragging.
We had plenty of Losgelassenheit, but not a whole lot of Schwung! Must work on the Schwung.
For portions of the ride I just released him, completely, and let him do as he wanted. I think it's good for a horse to know that every now and then they are in charge and can make the decisions. I believe it builds their confidence and encourages decision-making (if that's possible!). I'd rather have a horse who is confident enough to try to get us out of a bad situation than to wait for me to make a decision in a split-second...such as over cross-country jumps or out hunting.
After every ride we go out for a short trail ride as our cool-down and a nice hack-out after the real work. The farmers are in the fields and one of the fields next to my property is harvested so I decided we'd take a swing around it.
The combines have been out and spent most of the day behind the horses' pasture yesterday so I thought "eh, the combines won't bother him, he's seen 'em all day!"
Boy, was I ever wrong. Apparently the electric rope around the pasture prevents the combines from eating the horses. But you take him out of that roped off safety zone that giant, rumbling machine with teeth is GOING TO GET HIM!
As we were riding around the field one of the combines came up a rise and around a corner in the next field, straight towards us, spewing the remains of corn husks and smiling at Gabe with it's shiny, flesh-ripping teeth.
Gabe lost his everlovin' mind and decided he needed to save both of us from the corn-chomping monster. Drop rump, spin and RUN!!!! AWAY!!!!! from the beast of DOOM! I guess he DID have some energy hiding in that big body of his...he was just saving it for an emergency.
I thought I was a goner for a minute and remembered to push my heels down, shove my legs forward, stand up and press my hands firmly into his crest so he'd pull against himself, not me. Good thing I hack out with my reins bridged!
I let him run a bit and we settled quickly into a less frenetic rhythm. The thing about Thoroughbreds is, if you just let them go forward to get it out of their system, they get their minds back rather easily. If you fight them and make them go slow, slow, slow, the tension just builds to explosive levels. So we galloped. He snorted and blew and sweated and we galloped. Not far, maybe half a mile, but far enough for him to start to relax.
All I have to say is this: I am SO glad I put a really good stop on him or we may still be galloping!
Then, I turned his big gray butt around and we walked/jigged/hopped/side-passed right back towards the maw of the metal beast. He didn't want to, but he went because I insisted. And once we got close enough (a couple hundred feet), I made him stand/jiggle/wiggle/dance and wait for it to make a corner and head away from us before I allowed him turn around and walk back from where we came.
There are lessons in everything and in everything, I take the opportunity to turn it into a learning experience in the hopes that one day the corn, the telephone pole, the combine and the waving marker flag will no longer incite him to turn tail and run.
That boy can drop rump and spin 180-degrees without thinking about it then take off like his tail was on fire. It's actually quite fun to ride...when I know it's coming!
Last night's arena ride was lazy and slow but we did good work. I remembered to ride the effort, but also took the time to just give him his head and let him find his own way without me nagging at him. I can become quite a "nagging" rider if I don't keep myself in check, especially on Gabe. He never expends more energy than he absolutely has to, so, to keep him working at a good walk or trot, I have to keep on him, pushing, pushing, pushing. Unfortunately I've been known to get stuck in the rut of pushing and nudging...I get into a rhythm...and I forget to give him the release/reward when he DOES step up. I worked on very obviously giving him a release when he stepped up like I asked. Granted, he reverts back to the drag-butt pace in a few strides, but I gave him release and only "nagged" at him when he started dragging.
We had plenty of Losgelassenheit, but not a whole lot of Schwung! Must work on the Schwung.
For portions of the ride I just released him, completely, and let him do as he wanted. I think it's good for a horse to know that every now and then they are in charge and can make the decisions. I believe it builds their confidence and encourages decision-making (if that's possible!). I'd rather have a horse who is confident enough to try to get us out of a bad situation than to wait for me to make a decision in a split-second...such as over cross-country jumps or out hunting.
After every ride we go out for a short trail ride as our cool-down and a nice hack-out after the real work. The farmers are in the fields and one of the fields next to my property is harvested so I decided we'd take a swing around it.
The combines have been out and spent most of the day behind the horses' pasture yesterday so I thought "eh, the combines won't bother him, he's seen 'em all day!"
Boy, was I ever wrong. Apparently the electric rope around the pasture prevents the combines from eating the horses. But you take him out of that roped off safety zone that giant, rumbling machine with teeth is GOING TO GET HIM!
As we were riding around the field one of the combines came up a rise and around a corner in the next field, straight towards us, spewing the remains of corn husks and smiling at Gabe with it's shiny, flesh-ripping teeth.
Gabe lost his everlovin' mind and decided he needed to save both of us from the corn-chomping monster. Drop rump, spin and RUN!!!! AWAY!!!!! from the beast of DOOM! I guess he DID have some energy hiding in that big body of his...he was just saving it for an emergency.
I thought I was a goner for a minute and remembered to push my heels down, shove my legs forward, stand up and press my hands firmly into his crest so he'd pull against himself, not me. Good thing I hack out with my reins bridged!
I let him run a bit and we settled quickly into a less frenetic rhythm. The thing about Thoroughbreds is, if you just let them go forward to get it out of their system, they get their minds back rather easily. If you fight them and make them go slow, slow, slow, the tension just builds to explosive levels. So we galloped. He snorted and blew and sweated and we galloped. Not far, maybe half a mile, but far enough for him to start to relax.
All I have to say is this: I am SO glad I put a really good stop on him or we may still be galloping!
Then, I turned his big gray butt around and we walked/jigged/hopped/side-passed right back towards the maw of the metal beast. He didn't want to, but he went because I insisted. And once we got close enough (a couple hundred feet), I made him stand/jiggle/wiggle/dance and wait for it to make a corner and head away from us before I allowed him turn around and walk back from where we came.
There are lessons in everything and in everything, I take the opportunity to turn it into a learning experience in the hopes that one day the corn, the telephone pole, the combine and the waving marker flag will no longer incite him to turn tail and run.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Monsters in the cornfield
The cornfield is suspect.
He Who Walks Between The Rows may be watching, waiting, licking his lips in anticipation of sweet horse flesh.
The cornfield is especially worrisome when it just kind of pops up out of nowhere and changes the entire familiar scenery. It might even send a silly thoroughbred in to spasms of absolute terror.
Once again I was up with the sun and on my beast. This time, I had company. My youngest daughter cheerfully got up with me and was riding Chief bareback. He's such a gem and worth twice his weight in gold.
We did a few minutes of warm-up arena work and headed on out for a quick trail ride before I had to leave for work.
Down the driveway and into the woods we went, Gabe looking at everything, spooking at bunnies, ears flipping all over the place, mouth foaming like crazy, working that bit like a wad of Juicy Fruit and a whole lot of bouncy, bouncy Tigger-like action in his step. I swear he installed springs on his hooves over night.
Yesterday I mentioned to someone that Gabe has two personalities: He either is on his best behavior and takes care of me or he flips a switch and tries to kill me. You never really know what you're going to get. It's just goofy thoroughbred stuff, nothing malicious and actually, I enjoy the challenge he presents each and every day.
Today he was in kill me mode.
The last time I took him out along the driveway the corn was knee-high. We have corn fields along the driveway and corn fields across the road.
This time it was well over his head. The heat and the rain have done enormous favors for the corn!
He didn't like that ONE BIT. Wide-eyed and snorty, bouncy, bouncy, dancing sideways, wiggle-worming all around the place with every breeze that rustled the leaves and gave him peeks of the monsters lurking behind the rows.
Then he suddenly realized the scenery across the road had changed. He could no longer see for miles and miles across open, flat fields. It was a wall of waving, rustling, terrifying green.
He freaked out. Spin and run AWAY! Ok. You want to be a turd? Fine. Circle, circle, circle you big nutjob. I could feel him shaking beneath me and he grew from 16.2hh to about 18hh. Then, he refused to budge. Would NOT go forward towards the Great Wall of Corn and the menace lurking behind the rows. Would not turn. Just stood. And stared. And slobbered.
The ride ended up longer than I'd intended, but with persistence and patience, we slowly edged our way up to the corn: Two steps forward...four steps back, spin and snort. When we finally made it to the edge of the field I let him take a bite of a stalk and that eased his silly little mind. Typical male...win over his mind through his stomach.
Thankfully Chief just stood staring at Gabe's antics like he'd lost his mind. Which he kinda had. I'm pretty sure I saw Chief sigh and shake his head a few times, an old geezer fed up with teenage behavior. Thank goodness Chief is as non-reactive and quiet as he is or poor Kayleigh would have either ended up in the dirt or been a little mad at me for making her ride less than enjoyable.
So, we have defeated the Cornfield Monster and the Gates To Hell. I wonder what's next on our "OH MY GOD!! INSTANT DEATH!" list of things to conquer? hehe!
He Who Walks Between The Rows may be watching, waiting, licking his lips in anticipation of sweet horse flesh.
The cornfield is especially worrisome when it just kind of pops up out of nowhere and changes the entire familiar scenery. It might even send a silly thoroughbred in to spasms of absolute terror.
Once again I was up with the sun and on my beast. This time, I had company. My youngest daughter cheerfully got up with me and was riding Chief bareback. He's such a gem and worth twice his weight in gold.
We did a few minutes of warm-up arena work and headed on out for a quick trail ride before I had to leave for work.
Down the driveway and into the woods we went, Gabe looking at everything, spooking at bunnies, ears flipping all over the place, mouth foaming like crazy, working that bit like a wad of Juicy Fruit and a whole lot of bouncy, bouncy Tigger-like action in his step. I swear he installed springs on his hooves over night.
Yesterday I mentioned to someone that Gabe has two personalities: He either is on his best behavior and takes care of me or he flips a switch and tries to kill me. You never really know what you're going to get. It's just goofy thoroughbred stuff, nothing malicious and actually, I enjoy the challenge he presents each and every day.
Today he was in kill me mode.
The last time I took him out along the driveway the corn was knee-high. We have corn fields along the driveway and corn fields across the road.
This time it was well over his head. The heat and the rain have done enormous favors for the corn!
He didn't like that ONE BIT. Wide-eyed and snorty, bouncy, bouncy, dancing sideways, wiggle-worming all around the place with every breeze that rustled the leaves and gave him peeks of the monsters lurking behind the rows.
Then he suddenly realized the scenery across the road had changed. He could no longer see for miles and miles across open, flat fields. It was a wall of waving, rustling, terrifying green.
He freaked out. Spin and run AWAY! Ok. You want to be a turd? Fine. Circle, circle, circle you big nutjob. I could feel him shaking beneath me and he grew from 16.2hh to about 18hh. Then, he refused to budge. Would NOT go forward towards the Great Wall of Corn and the menace lurking behind the rows. Would not turn. Just stood. And stared. And slobbered.
The ride ended up longer than I'd intended, but with persistence and patience, we slowly edged our way up to the corn: Two steps forward...four steps back, spin and snort. When we finally made it to the edge of the field I let him take a bite of a stalk and that eased his silly little mind. Typical male...win over his mind through his stomach.
Thankfully Chief just stood staring at Gabe's antics like he'd lost his mind. Which he kinda had. I'm pretty sure I saw Chief sigh and shake his head a few times, an old geezer fed up with teenage behavior. Thank goodness Chief is as non-reactive and quiet as he is or poor Kayleigh would have either ended up in the dirt or been a little mad at me for making her ride less than enjoyable.
So, we have defeated the Cornfield Monster and the Gates To Hell. I wonder what's next on our "OH MY GOD!! INSTANT DEATH!" list of things to conquer? hehe!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Gates to Hell
Gabe wants me to tell you: Telephone poles are the gateways to hell and I am the devil incarnate.
Just so you know. Because he's still a bit peeved with me I do believe.
It was again a nice early morning ride. The arena work: Mostly workmanlike and fabulous. He did a little bit of playing around in the beginning but nothing unexpected and nothing I couldn't deal with. The arena was still a bit muddy so we did some big circle trot work, some lateral work and practiced transitions and length of stride within the gaits. We did no cantering because he still gets a little squirrely on circles and I didn't really want us to end up on our butts in the mud because he couldn't keep his legs under him on the corners.
So, out we go, down my driveway and along the back road. Which is rarely traveled, especially early in the morning. We walked and trotted a bit and he was good. Neck stretched down, back up, hind end working like a well-oiled machine, looking around but listening. Snorting at quail and rabbits, but paying attention to me.
In the distance I could see a truck rumbling towards us. A good-sized pickup. First vehicle we'd seen that morning so I scooted him way over into the ditch along the road. The grass has not been cut yet this year so it's high enough to tickle his belly and, well, hide things.
The truck is still coming at us and I spotted them as soon as Gabe did. A double whammy. A pair of telephone poles lying partially hidden across the ditch in the deep grass.
With flapping orange ribbons tied to them and a plastic bag caught on the edge of one of them, moving like a demented amoeba in the breeze.
I could almost hear him thinking: "THE GATES TO HELL!!! RUN SIDEWAYS NOW!!!" He had himself so convinced he could most likely smell the sulfur-breathing demons within, waiting to devour his sweet horsey flesh.
Oh. Crap. I felt him tense and grow about 6 inches taller so I laid a leg on him to keep him from scooting into the road and into the path of that oncoming truck.
That turd blew right through my leg and right in front of the truck while giving those horse-eating telephone poles gigantic googly eyes and big snorty nostrils.
Thank goodness I live on a road where most motorists are used to seeing walkers, bikers or riders on the shoulder.
With a big, dumbass Thoroughbred blowing through my aids I decided my only option was to wave my arms and my dressage whip around in the air like a lunatic and hope the driver recognized my attempt at a "SLOW DOWN!" signal for what it was.
She did. She hit those brakes hard, squealed the tires a bit and put my heart in my throat where it nearly strangled me. I couldn't breath.
We didn't get hit. That would have been painful and probably messy and would have ruined my whole day.
After she passed us the road was quiet and empty again and I turned to tackle those poles. Because spooking at poles and blowing through my leg is absolutely unacceptable and dangerous. Period. End of story.
He thought his work was over. He thought we were just out for a nice, relaxing ride.
He had another think coming.
Because for the next 25 minutes we went over, around and along those telephone poles until all he wanted to do was sit down on one and catch his everlovin' breath.
Telephone poles are no longer the gates to hell.
But I'm pretty sure I'm now his version of Satan.
Just so you know. Because he's still a bit peeved with me I do believe.
It was again a nice early morning ride. The arena work: Mostly workmanlike and fabulous. He did a little bit of playing around in the beginning but nothing unexpected and nothing I couldn't deal with. The arena was still a bit muddy so we did some big circle trot work, some lateral work and practiced transitions and length of stride within the gaits. We did no cantering because he still gets a little squirrely on circles and I didn't really want us to end up on our butts in the mud because he couldn't keep his legs under him on the corners.
So, out we go, down my driveway and along the back road. Which is rarely traveled, especially early in the morning. We walked and trotted a bit and he was good. Neck stretched down, back up, hind end working like a well-oiled machine, looking around but listening. Snorting at quail and rabbits, but paying attention to me.
In the distance I could see a truck rumbling towards us. A good-sized pickup. First vehicle we'd seen that morning so I scooted him way over into the ditch along the road. The grass has not been cut yet this year so it's high enough to tickle his belly and, well, hide things.
The truck is still coming at us and I spotted them as soon as Gabe did. A double whammy. A pair of telephone poles lying partially hidden across the ditch in the deep grass.
With flapping orange ribbons tied to them and a plastic bag caught on the edge of one of them, moving like a demented amoeba in the breeze.
I could almost hear him thinking: "THE GATES TO HELL!!! RUN SIDEWAYS NOW!!!" He had himself so convinced he could most likely smell the sulfur-breathing demons within, waiting to devour his sweet horsey flesh.
Oh. Crap. I felt him tense and grow about 6 inches taller so I laid a leg on him to keep him from scooting into the road and into the path of that oncoming truck.
That turd blew right through my leg and right in front of the truck while giving those horse-eating telephone poles gigantic googly eyes and big snorty nostrils.
Thank goodness I live on a road where most motorists are used to seeing walkers, bikers or riders on the shoulder.
With a big, dumbass Thoroughbred blowing through my aids I decided my only option was to wave my arms and my dressage whip around in the air like a lunatic and hope the driver recognized my attempt at a "SLOW DOWN!" signal for what it was.
She did. She hit those brakes hard, squealed the tires a bit and put my heart in my throat where it nearly strangled me. I couldn't breath.
We didn't get hit. That would have been painful and probably messy and would have ruined my whole day.
After she passed us the road was quiet and empty again and I turned to tackle those poles. Because spooking at poles and blowing through my leg is absolutely unacceptable and dangerous. Period. End of story.
He thought his work was over. He thought we were just out for a nice, relaxing ride.
He had another think coming.
Because for the next 25 minutes we went over, around and along those telephone poles until all he wanted to do was sit down on one and catch his everlovin' breath.
Telephone poles are no longer the gates to hell.
But I'm pretty sure I'm now his version of Satan.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Taking a beating
My poor big baby.
He got the shit kicked out of him yesterday and is now sporting a dozen or so big bumps, bruises and scrapes all over the side of his body. Even his boy bits weren't immune to the kick-fest. A hoof caught him right on his weinie and the sheath is swollen and sore. I feel so bad for him, but at the same time, so thankful none of those kicks made contact with his legs! He does have a rather large hematoma on the muscle (biceps femoris) above his gaskin and it's sore, sore, sore, but he's not lame. I'm going to keep an eye on it and if it doesn't go down fairly soon, the vet will be called. Poor baby.
When I turn all three out in the big pastures they are fine together. Gabe has room to get away from mean ole Calypso and bossy boy Chief when they give him "that look." And he can definitely outrun them any day of the week, so there haven't been any major kicking issues. But when they all wander down into the mud lots and into the run-ins, that's when the dirty business begins.
You see, Gabe is a lover. He's not a fighter. He won't kick back and prefers to get the hell out of Dodge when one of the other horses gives him a look or lays back an ear. He's happy at the bottom of the totem pole. He's happy with just being allowed to wander close to them every now and again.
Until he becomes a kicking bag.
Calypso cornered Gabe in his run-in yesterday and beat the crap out of him. So badly they busted a 2X6 and practically removed an entire sheet of siding from his shed. His shed has 3 and a half sides, so there's an enclosed area for him to get out of the wind, rain, sun, whatever. He likes his house a lot. He sleeps in there, he hangs out in there, eats in there and considers it a safe place to be.
Yesterday his safe place became a beating zone. He was so traumatized by the whole thing he wouldn't even go back in there to eat last night without plenty of coaxing and a couple of carrots.
That won't happen again. I closed the gate to the mud lot this morning when I turned them out so there will be no more cornering Gabe in his run-in and whaling on him like a red-headed stepchild.
Inexplicably, I was PISSED at Calypso (she was witnessed committing the foul kicking deed against my big guy). I know she's just being a horse doing what horses do, but still, he tries so hard to GET AWAY and move out of her way and she was just being, quite frankly, a bitch.
I was going to ride Gabe tonight. We had a FABULOUS session Monday and I was looking forward to more today. His inside hind was stepping under, under, under and pushing beautifully around corners, responding to my inside leg tap, tap, tap, tapping him. He lifted that back and belly like you wouldn't believe and stretched nicely into the bridle. He even quit with the bit fiddling long enough to really listen and pay attention, ears flicking back from time to time, listening...thinking...responding. It was so invigorating and inspiring!
But with him being rather body sore today I won't ride. Instead, she gets to fill in for him. And she needs A LOT of work.
He got the shit kicked out of him yesterday and is now sporting a dozen or so big bumps, bruises and scrapes all over the side of his body. Even his boy bits weren't immune to the kick-fest. A hoof caught him right on his weinie and the sheath is swollen and sore. I feel so bad for him, but at the same time, so thankful none of those kicks made contact with his legs! He does have a rather large hematoma on the muscle (biceps femoris) above his gaskin and it's sore, sore, sore, but he's not lame. I'm going to keep an eye on it and if it doesn't go down fairly soon, the vet will be called. Poor baby.
When I turn all three out in the big pastures they are fine together. Gabe has room to get away from mean ole Calypso and bossy boy Chief when they give him "that look." And he can definitely outrun them any day of the week, so there haven't been any major kicking issues. But when they all wander down into the mud lots and into the run-ins, that's when the dirty business begins.
You see, Gabe is a lover. He's not a fighter. He won't kick back and prefers to get the hell out of Dodge when one of the other horses gives him a look or lays back an ear. He's happy at the bottom of the totem pole. He's happy with just being allowed to wander close to them every now and again.
Until he becomes a kicking bag.
Calypso cornered Gabe in his run-in yesterday and beat the crap out of him. So badly they busted a 2X6 and practically removed an entire sheet of siding from his shed. His shed has 3 and a half sides, so there's an enclosed area for him to get out of the wind, rain, sun, whatever. He likes his house a lot. He sleeps in there, he hangs out in there, eats in there and considers it a safe place to be.
Yesterday his safe place became a beating zone. He was so traumatized by the whole thing he wouldn't even go back in there to eat last night without plenty of coaxing and a couple of carrots.
That won't happen again. I closed the gate to the mud lot this morning when I turned them out so there will be no more cornering Gabe in his run-in and whaling on him like a red-headed stepchild.
Inexplicably, I was PISSED at Calypso (she was witnessed committing the foul kicking deed against my big guy). I know she's just being a horse doing what horses do, but still, he tries so hard to GET AWAY and move out of her way and she was just being, quite frankly, a bitch.
I was going to ride Gabe tonight. We had a FABULOUS session Monday and I was looking forward to more today. His inside hind was stepping under, under, under and pushing beautifully around corners, responding to my inside leg tap, tap, tap, tapping him. He lifted that back and belly like you wouldn't believe and stretched nicely into the bridle. He even quit with the bit fiddling long enough to really listen and pay attention, ears flicking back from time to time, listening...thinking...responding. It was so invigorating and inspiring!
But with him being rather body sore today I won't ride. Instead, she gets to fill in for him. And she needs A LOT of work.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Mr. Bobblehead Bucky Boy
I'm just gonna say it like it is: Gabriel is a BRAT! A great big, silly brat who seems to have forgotten his manners.
Could be the beautiful spring weather and drying ground have something to do with his brattiness. Could be the inconsistent work he's been getting lately contributing to the lack of manners. Could be the rich alfalfa hay he's been eating for the past month is adding to the overall energy level of a 6-year-old SNOT. It's the end of the season, I get what I can get until the first cutting comes in. I don't LIKE feeding them 100% alfalfa, but it's dang good hay...and it's better than a load of weed-infested crap hay I got in January.
Could be anything.
I have seen him give little half-hearted humped-up bucks on the longe line. He pops up a little bit, chucks that head around and squeals. Typically I don't get after him for it as long as he gets it out of his system and settles back down and listens to me.
But Tuesday? Holy mackerel. That horse. OOOOOhhhh, that bratty, bratty, super-energized horse truly showed me his athletic ability. He's been keeping little secrets.
That boy can FLY. Straight up, all fours off the ground with those hind legs well above his head. Bucking bronco anyone? Buck after buck after buck...I swear he cracked his back more than once after he bucked around on the end of the line. It wasn't discomfort or frustration or anger, it was pure energy expressing itself in a most young horse-like way. As soon as I had his brain on the longe line (gait changes, spirals in and out, trot cavalletti, direction changes, etc.) I climbed aboard and hoped for the best.
You'd think he'd be more settled into work mode after the shenanigans on the longe line. You'd think the sweat and the blowing would have knocked some of the edge off.
Nope. We had a few bucks and more than a couple of spooks at absolutely nothing.
But I kept him moving forward, forward, forward and WORKED him. We had a few fleeting moments of brilliance. Those moments we work so hard towards seem to be coming more often, despite the moments of massive fail. We also had quite a few "oh shit! No you didn't!" moments. But I rode the 'oh shit!' moments and used them to my advantage. I'm pretty sure I called him a shithead more than once.
You want to spook sideways at that dandelion? Hmm...okay...spook right into this lateral movement! Ha! Take that, you booger. Work it! Bucking? Really? Okay. Canter on a circle and give me a little bend. There ya go! Chuck that head around like a danged fool? Fine. You can't trot cavalletti while flinging and gazing at the stars. Lets see how many times you trip over your feet and stumble over the poles before you stop with the head crap. Good boy! There ya go, round UP! Chew the bit softly! NICE!
We ended the ride very nicely with him trotting strong, forward and rounded up to me. His cool-out walk was long, powerful and relaxed.
He heaved a sigh, licked his lips and pricked those ears forward. It was good. We talked. He talked back a few times, but in the end, he listened and I listened and something between us clicked.
We're not perfect. In fact, sometimes we are absolutely HORRIBLE. But as long as he learns something positive by the time we are done I consider it a successful ride. Bucks, spooks and general naughtiness included. Because each one of those naughty behaviors can be transformed and used in the overall training process.
Because at some point, he'll figure out it's just easier to not act like a bobble-headed yearling full of spring oats. I hope!
Could be the beautiful spring weather and drying ground have something to do with his brattiness. Could be the inconsistent work he's been getting lately contributing to the lack of manners. Could be the rich alfalfa hay he's been eating for the past month is adding to the overall energy level of a 6-year-old SNOT. It's the end of the season, I get what I can get until the first cutting comes in. I don't LIKE feeding them 100% alfalfa, but it's dang good hay...and it's better than a load of weed-infested crap hay I got in January.
Could be anything.
I have seen him give little half-hearted humped-up bucks on the longe line. He pops up a little bit, chucks that head around and squeals. Typically I don't get after him for it as long as he gets it out of his system and settles back down and listens to me.
But Tuesday? Holy mackerel. That horse. OOOOOhhhh, that bratty, bratty, super-energized horse truly showed me his athletic ability. He's been keeping little secrets.
That boy can FLY. Straight up, all fours off the ground with those hind legs well above his head. Bucking bronco anyone? Buck after buck after buck...I swear he cracked his back more than once after he bucked around on the end of the line. It wasn't discomfort or frustration or anger, it was pure energy expressing itself in a most young horse-like way. As soon as I had his brain on the longe line (gait changes, spirals in and out, trot cavalletti, direction changes, etc.) I climbed aboard and hoped for the best.
You'd think he'd be more settled into work mode after the shenanigans on the longe line. You'd think the sweat and the blowing would have knocked some of the edge off.
Nope. We had a few bucks and more than a couple of spooks at absolutely nothing.
But I kept him moving forward, forward, forward and WORKED him. We had a few fleeting moments of brilliance. Those moments we work so hard towards seem to be coming more often, despite the moments of massive fail. We also had quite a few "oh shit! No you didn't!" moments. But I rode the 'oh shit!' moments and used them to my advantage. I'm pretty sure I called him a shithead more than once.
You want to spook sideways at that dandelion? Hmm...okay...spook right into this lateral movement! Ha! Take that, you booger. Work it! Bucking? Really? Okay. Canter on a circle and give me a little bend. There ya go! Chuck that head around like a danged fool? Fine. You can't trot cavalletti while flinging and gazing at the stars. Lets see how many times you trip over your feet and stumble over the poles before you stop with the head crap. Good boy! There ya go, round UP! Chew the bit softly! NICE!
We ended the ride very nicely with him trotting strong, forward and rounded up to me. His cool-out walk was long, powerful and relaxed.
He heaved a sigh, licked his lips and pricked those ears forward. It was good. We talked. He talked back a few times, but in the end, he listened and I listened and something between us clicked.
We're not perfect. In fact, sometimes we are absolutely HORRIBLE. But as long as he learns something positive by the time we are done I consider it a successful ride. Bucks, spooks and general naughtiness included. Because each one of those naughty behaviors can be transformed and used in the overall training process.
Because at some point, he'll figure out it's just easier to not act like a bobble-headed yearling full of spring oats. I hope!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Ape-sh*! bananas
That's it. I need a new saddle. I knew my saddle didn't fit Gabe quite as well as it should, but I really didn't know how badly it fit him until I broke out the measuring wire last night.
We rode fairly hard last night (he was FULL of himself! More on that in a minute) so he was sweating. And there was sweat under the saddle everywhere but on either side of his withers. Bone dry. Not good. That means the saddle fits too snugly and is too narrow. Keep in mind that this measurement was taken with him not being ridden most of the winter, so, he will only get wider as he gets fitter. Really not good. A tight saddle is like wearing too small shoes: Very, very uncomfortable and can be permanently damaging to the tissue/nerves/muscle.
I put the wire over his withers two fingers behind the shoulder blades, molded it in place and compared it to the gullet in my saddle. Collectively the gullet on my saddle is over an inch too narrow for this big guy's extra wide back. Surprising on a Thoroughbred, eh? He is not shark-fin withered like a lot of TBs, but he does have a wither...it's just REALLY WIDE, more like a warmblood than a Thoroughbred.
So, a new saddle is in order. I am torn right now between just continuing to ride with the current saddle until I get a new one or riding in my really sweet Baretek saddle until I can afford a new saddle. It would be different if the saddle was too big...then I could just pad it up. Not ideal, but better than too small.
The new saddle I would love to have is a Kieffer Aachen or a Kieffer Munchen...both a bit prohibitively priced. I may have to lower my standards a bit.
The only problem...the Baretek has no stirrups. Gabe still has stupid moments that may make riding with no stirrups slightly idiotic and perhaps more than a little bit suicidal.
There it is. My tack doesn't fit properly. I'm a bad horse mommy. See the guilt written all over my face? It's true. I feel bad for squishing my huge horse into what amounts to a pair of ill-fitting stilettos.
And, now for yesterday's ride. The day was gorgeous. The weather: warmer but still a bit nippy. The wind: Blowing. Gabe: High as a freaking kite.
He tried to kill me as I led him on the lunge to the arena. Of course, it didn't help that my husband turned Calypso out into the pasture and she went ape-shit bananas right towards us. Gabe was walking nicely next to me then BAM! Calypso ran at us bucking and farting and squealing and I guess Gabe thought he should do the same. Right next to me. That big dork even squealed like a girl as he reared up and started farting around on the lunge line. Grrr...Bad manners horse, I have him.
Fortunately Chief just stood by and watched the antics of the young'uns instead of trying to kill my daughter who was waiting patiently for the fart/buck/squeal fest to end before mounting. Good girl! Good Chief. He's one-in-a-million.
It took me a good 20 minutes to lunge all the stupids out of him and he was a naughty, naughty boy: Bucking, rearing, hopping (yes, hopping!) and trying to dash off without me. So, I made his butt work. Direction changes, spiral-in, spiral-out, over the trot poles, gate changes...everything I could think of to bring his brain back down to earth and out of ozone land.
Finally, he settled enough that I could get on without worrying about an immediate, unexpected dismount face-first.
And he was excellent. More direction and pace changes, circles, serpentines and a few good rounds of cantering the perimeter of the arena. We had a couple head-ducking threaten-to-buck moments but a sharp vocal reminder from me and a low growl stopped that particular performance from following all the way through. We even managed a couple of really decent lateral steps at the walk and the trot. Yay for sensitive sides!
We had foam, lots of thick, white foam on his lips and a whole lot LESS mouthing of the bit. I did tighten the figure-8 noseband a hole. It's still not snug, but snugger than it was last week. No arguments from him this time.
I hope to ride again today and really get the training program underway. May the sun gods and goddesses continue to shine down on us and keep the clouds and rain and ickiness away. At least for a week. All I ask for is a whole week of mud-free riding!
We rode fairly hard last night (he was FULL of himself! More on that in a minute) so he was sweating. And there was sweat under the saddle everywhere but on either side of his withers. Bone dry. Not good. That means the saddle fits too snugly and is too narrow. Keep in mind that this measurement was taken with him not being ridden most of the winter, so, he will only get wider as he gets fitter. Really not good. A tight saddle is like wearing too small shoes: Very, very uncomfortable and can be permanently damaging to the tissue/nerves/muscle.
I put the wire over his withers two fingers behind the shoulder blades, molded it in place and compared it to the gullet in my saddle. Collectively the gullet on my saddle is over an inch too narrow for this big guy's extra wide back. Surprising on a Thoroughbred, eh? He is not shark-fin withered like a lot of TBs, but he does have a wither...it's just REALLY WIDE, more like a warmblood than a Thoroughbred.
So, a new saddle is in order. I am torn right now between just continuing to ride with the current saddle until I get a new one or riding in my really sweet Baretek saddle until I can afford a new saddle. It would be different if the saddle was too big...then I could just pad it up. Not ideal, but better than too small.
The new saddle I would love to have is a Kieffer Aachen or a Kieffer Munchen...both a bit prohibitively priced. I may have to lower my standards a bit.
The only problem...the Baretek has no stirrups. Gabe still has stupid moments that may make riding with no stirrups slightly idiotic and perhaps more than a little bit suicidal.
There it is. My tack doesn't fit properly. I'm a bad horse mommy. See the guilt written all over my face? It's true. I feel bad for squishing my huge horse into what amounts to a pair of ill-fitting stilettos.
And, now for yesterday's ride. The day was gorgeous. The weather: warmer but still a bit nippy. The wind: Blowing. Gabe: High as a freaking kite.
He tried to kill me as I led him on the lunge to the arena. Of course, it didn't help that my husband turned Calypso out into the pasture and she went ape-shit bananas right towards us. Gabe was walking nicely next to me then BAM! Calypso ran at us bucking and farting and squealing and I guess Gabe thought he should do the same. Right next to me. That big dork even squealed like a girl as he reared up and started farting around on the lunge line. Grrr...Bad manners horse, I have him.
Fortunately Chief just stood by and watched the antics of the young'uns instead of trying to kill my daughter who was waiting patiently for the fart/buck/squeal fest to end before mounting. Good girl! Good Chief. He's one-in-a-million.
It took me a good 20 minutes to lunge all the stupids out of him and he was a naughty, naughty boy: Bucking, rearing, hopping (yes, hopping!) and trying to dash off without me. So, I made his butt work. Direction changes, spiral-in, spiral-out, over the trot poles, gate changes...everything I could think of to bring his brain back down to earth and out of ozone land.
Finally, he settled enough that I could get on without worrying about an immediate, unexpected dismount face-first.
And he was excellent. More direction and pace changes, circles, serpentines and a few good rounds of cantering the perimeter of the arena. We had a couple head-ducking threaten-to-buck moments but a sharp vocal reminder from me and a low growl stopped that particular performance from following all the way through. We even managed a couple of really decent lateral steps at the walk and the trot. Yay for sensitive sides!
We had foam, lots of thick, white foam on his lips and a whole lot LESS mouthing of the bit. I did tighten the figure-8 noseband a hole. It's still not snug, but snugger than it was last week. No arguments from him this time.
I hope to ride again today and really get the training program underway. May the sun gods and goddesses continue to shine down on us and keep the clouds and rain and ickiness away. At least for a week. All I ask for is a whole week of mud-free riding!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Rip-roaring good times
I know spring is very close. Shhh...don't scare her away! I think missus spring is a wee bit shy as she just starts peeking her pretty little head out over the brown, tortured wasteland of winter. Give her time, she'll be fully present before we know it!
With spring comes shedding. And my three are shedding like mad. Piles and piles of gray hair from Gabe, white hair from Chief, dark brown from Calypso. Odd that Chief's spots always shed first, before the rest of his body does and even after shedding, those spots seem to be a thicker, coarser hair than the sorrel ones.
And I know spring is near because we have a mare and she is in full-blown hussy mode. Hooo boy! She is teasing those poor boys mercilessly, and making a mess of the run-in and her tail while she's at it. She's like a hormone-enraged high school girl: "Come here, big boy!" *cuddle cuddle* "NO! Go away!" *SQUEAL! KICK!* "Wait! I didn't mean it! Come back! Please!" *low, soft nicker* "HA! KIDDING! GO AWAY!" *SQUEAL! KICK!*
I was watching their antics a couple of days ago and had to chuckle when she backed up to the fence between her paddock and Gabe's. He was nipping her butt and Chief was making ugly faces at him (she's HIS girl and he makes no secret about it.) Then...that big gray snot grabbed Calypso's tail with his teeth, close to the dock and refused to let go! Calypso seemed quite shocked that she couldn't move forward when she'd decided she'd had enough of his nuzzling and affections. She contorted her plump little body around and nipped his face and took off running when he freed her tail. Who knew that stout little Quarter horse was so flexible? I never would have imagined she could twist her body around quite so effectively.
And all three started tearing around the paddocks like their tails were on fire...ripping around corners, bucking up the long side and sliding to a stop only to start all over again. They were all snorting and breathing hard and sweating by the time they wore the goofies out.
Silly, happy, frisky beasts.
Hello spring! Come on out...we're more than ready to welcome you back!
With spring comes shedding. And my three are shedding like mad. Piles and piles of gray hair from Gabe, white hair from Chief, dark brown from Calypso. Odd that Chief's spots always shed first, before the rest of his body does and even after shedding, those spots seem to be a thicker, coarser hair than the sorrel ones.
And I know spring is near because we have a mare and she is in full-blown hussy mode. Hooo boy! She is teasing those poor boys mercilessly, and making a mess of the run-in and her tail while she's at it. She's like a hormone-enraged high school girl: "Come here, big boy!" *cuddle cuddle* "NO! Go away!" *SQUEAL! KICK!* "Wait! I didn't mean it! Come back! Please!" *low, soft nicker* "HA! KIDDING! GO AWAY!" *SQUEAL! KICK!*
I was watching their antics a couple of days ago and had to chuckle when she backed up to the fence between her paddock and Gabe's. He was nipping her butt and Chief was making ugly faces at him (she's HIS girl and he makes no secret about it.) Then...that big gray snot grabbed Calypso's tail with his teeth, close to the dock and refused to let go! Calypso seemed quite shocked that she couldn't move forward when she'd decided she'd had enough of his nuzzling and affections. She contorted her plump little body around and nipped his face and took off running when he freed her tail. Who knew that stout little Quarter horse was so flexible? I never would have imagined she could twist her body around quite so effectively.
And all three started tearing around the paddocks like their tails were on fire...ripping around corners, bucking up the long side and sliding to a stop only to start all over again. They were all snorting and breathing hard and sweating by the time they wore the goofies out.
Silly, happy, frisky beasts.
Hello spring! Come on out...we're more than ready to welcome you back!
Friday, September 4, 2009
I think they know when you brag on them
Why is it that every time I'm feeling really good about Gabe's progress he throws a curve at me and makes me feel like I'm a blithering idiot? Horses. Sheesh.
I spent all night and most of this morning trying to figure out what might have happened to cause Gabe to engage in some extreme behavior that I've never had to deal with him before. I think I have figured it out, but will have to get back in the saddle to test my theory.
Last night Gabe reared. And reared. And reared. These weren't little rears either, these were nearly vertical, scary rears. I bailed on the fourth rear because he seemed to be getting higher and more unstable with each one and I am absolutely terrified of a horse going over backwards on me. I can deal with being kicked, bit, stomped on, dragged, bucked off and otherwise abused, but getting squished between a 1,300 pound animal and the ground is on my list of things that should never, ever happen. I would much rather get on a bucking horse than a rearing horse any day of the week.
I landed badly when I bailed and am a bit sore today, but nothing a little Tylenol won't fix.
Gabe is fine. He reared a couple more times after I bailed then wandered over to a tree near Calypso and started munching away.
After much thought and reflection, I think I know what happened. Kayleigh was riding Calypso and Gabe decided his only goal in life last night was to follow Calypso around. Add an approaching storm complete with rumbling thunder, a drop in temperature, a breeze that was picking up and increasingly heavy sprinkles and I had a recipe that ended in an explosion.
Every single time I turned him away to head in a direction opposite from her, he balked and objected to the command. Right before the rearing episode he got really pissed off because I turned him away from her and he planted his feet. I squeezed to make him walk forward and he kept those feet planted. I squeezed again. No response. So I KICKED and up he went. The first rear was a little one but I was so startled by that unexpected response that I grabbed reins instead of mane and balanced off his mouth which most likely didn't feel so great. Of course, the pain in his mouth from my uncouth and rude response to his rearing most likely panicked him more, so he reared again, higher. It was a nasty, self-perpetuating situation. The higher he reared, the more I wound up pulling on his mouth and the more unbalanced I became. The more I pulled on his mouth because I'd lost my balance, the more he reacted.
I caught that booger easily, re-adjusted my saddle which had slipped backwards a few inches, and got back up. Shaking? Yes, I was. But I took a few big, deep breaths and relaxed so my fear/tension wouldn't transfer to him and asked for a nice forward walk. He complied as if nothing had happened. He still wanted to follow Calypso but was more inclined to listen to me than he was before he came entirely undone. I worked him for another 15 minutes, concentrating on keeping him away from the object of his affection and concentrating solely on me. Lots of circles, changes within the gait, halts, neck yields, rein backs and leg yields to get his mind in the game and not on the mare. I finally got his brain back and he was good.
We ended on a beautiful rein back and a walk around the ring on a loose rein.
So, in picking this incident apart I have determined two things:
1. His forward button is still quite sticky. This whole issue started because he refused to go forward when requested. That is what I will be concentrating on for the next few weeks with him. I've been kind of giving him a bit of a pass on responding immediately with plenty of forward energy to my leg cues because I didn't want to push him past his limits. As long as he went forward, I was happy, even if he was dragging butt the entire time. His pass is hereby revoked. I will be much, much more aggressive in requiring immediate compliance to the forward cues. This is not negotiable. It is absolutely imperative that the "I don't wanna and you can't make me" balkiness be wiped entirely from his response repertoire.
2. My balance isn't what it used to be and I need to bump up my own fitness routine to get it back to where it was. I should have had enough strength and self-balance to stay out of his mouth. I know I am capable of it but I've let things get a little "lax" over the years. I know better, I can do better and I'm quite disappointed in myself that I was the issue that caused the situation to escalate from disobedience to a very dangerous situation.
I spent all night and most of this morning trying to figure out what might have happened to cause Gabe to engage in some extreme behavior that I've never had to deal with him before. I think I have figured it out, but will have to get back in the saddle to test my theory.
Last night Gabe reared. And reared. And reared. These weren't little rears either, these were nearly vertical, scary rears. I bailed on the fourth rear because he seemed to be getting higher and more unstable with each one and I am absolutely terrified of a horse going over backwards on me. I can deal with being kicked, bit, stomped on, dragged, bucked off and otherwise abused, but getting squished between a 1,300 pound animal and the ground is on my list of things that should never, ever happen. I would much rather get on a bucking horse than a rearing horse any day of the week.
I landed badly when I bailed and am a bit sore today, but nothing a little Tylenol won't fix.
Gabe is fine. He reared a couple more times after I bailed then wandered over to a tree near Calypso and started munching away.
After much thought and reflection, I think I know what happened. Kayleigh was riding Calypso and Gabe decided his only goal in life last night was to follow Calypso around. Add an approaching storm complete with rumbling thunder, a drop in temperature, a breeze that was picking up and increasingly heavy sprinkles and I had a recipe that ended in an explosion.
Every single time I turned him away to head in a direction opposite from her, he balked and objected to the command. Right before the rearing episode he got really pissed off because I turned him away from her and he planted his feet. I squeezed to make him walk forward and he kept those feet planted. I squeezed again. No response. So I KICKED and up he went. The first rear was a little one but I was so startled by that unexpected response that I grabbed reins instead of mane and balanced off his mouth which most likely didn't feel so great. Of course, the pain in his mouth from my uncouth and rude response to his rearing most likely panicked him more, so he reared again, higher. It was a nasty, self-perpetuating situation. The higher he reared, the more I wound up pulling on his mouth and the more unbalanced I became. The more I pulled on his mouth because I'd lost my balance, the more he reacted.
I caught that booger easily, re-adjusted my saddle which had slipped backwards a few inches, and got back up. Shaking? Yes, I was. But I took a few big, deep breaths and relaxed so my fear/tension wouldn't transfer to him and asked for a nice forward walk. He complied as if nothing had happened. He still wanted to follow Calypso but was more inclined to listen to me than he was before he came entirely undone. I worked him for another 15 minutes, concentrating on keeping him away from the object of his affection and concentrating solely on me. Lots of circles, changes within the gait, halts, neck yields, rein backs and leg yields to get his mind in the game and not on the mare. I finally got his brain back and he was good.
We ended on a beautiful rein back and a walk around the ring on a loose rein.
So, in picking this incident apart I have determined two things:
1. His forward button is still quite sticky. This whole issue started because he refused to go forward when requested. That is what I will be concentrating on for the next few weeks with him. I've been kind of giving him a bit of a pass on responding immediately with plenty of forward energy to my leg cues because I didn't want to push him past his limits. As long as he went forward, I was happy, even if he was dragging butt the entire time. His pass is hereby revoked. I will be much, much more aggressive in requiring immediate compliance to the forward cues. This is not negotiable. It is absolutely imperative that the "I don't wanna and you can't make me" balkiness be wiped entirely from his response repertoire.
2. My balance isn't what it used to be and I need to bump up my own fitness routine to get it back to where it was. I should have had enough strength and self-balance to stay out of his mouth. I know I am capable of it but I've let things get a little "lax" over the years. I know better, I can do better and I'm quite disappointed in myself that I was the issue that caused the situation to escalate from disobedience to a very dangerous situation.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
The Boogeymen
I really wish I knew what he sees when he stares into the deep, dark, unknown depths of the woods on the west side of our riding arena.
The way he acts you'd think he's spotted a pride of hungry lions or a family of boogeymen just waiting for him to get close enough so they can snatch him and turn him into dinner.
I spent Tuesday's ride on Gabe just getting him to go to and remain at that end of the arena. It was an evening of wide eyes, perked ears, loud blowing and snorting, and of course, my favorite, tucking the butt and bolting away from the ever-so-scary woods.
What a brat. Years ago I would have gotten frustrated and angry with him and probably gone to extremes to get him to get over it. Fortunately age and experience has taught me that's the LAST thing I want to do with a horse who has gotten it into his head that something is BAD BAD BAD! We did a lot of "do-overs." Bolt and run as we are walking away from the scary woods? Huh. DO OVER! Pop your shoulder and contort your body so you don't have to go to that end of the arena when requested? DO OVER! Bolt again as we are doing a circle near the scary end of the arena? DO OVER! Many deep breaths, do-overs and re-focuses later, we worked at the spooky end of the arena quietly without a bolt or evasion.
Then I got off and called it good. Always end on a good note, even if it's a very basic one, such as working near the woods.
And it only took half an hour! :P Through all this I have gotten very, very good at recognizing when he's gonna lose his everlovin' mind and bolt. I can really feel him tense up just a bit right before he thinks about it and if I recognize it for what it is in time, I low, loud NO!, a grumble or an ACK! from me refocuses him and pretty much prevents the bolt.
Some days, it feels like we are back at square one and he thinks he doesn't know a thing, especially the knowledge about going forward and turning. That is SO frustrating.
Other days, he's golden and he seems to anticipate my every request with effortless grace and forwardness. Those are the days I enjoy most.
Those other days? Those are the days I threaten him with a Frenchman's fork.
The way he acts you'd think he's spotted a pride of hungry lions or a family of boogeymen just waiting for him to get close enough so they can snatch him and turn him into dinner.
I spent Tuesday's ride on Gabe just getting him to go to and remain at that end of the arena. It was an evening of wide eyes, perked ears, loud blowing and snorting, and of course, my favorite, tucking the butt and bolting away from the ever-so-scary woods.
What a brat. Years ago I would have gotten frustrated and angry with him and probably gone to extremes to get him to get over it. Fortunately age and experience has taught me that's the LAST thing I want to do with a horse who has gotten it into his head that something is BAD BAD BAD! We did a lot of "do-overs." Bolt and run as we are walking away from the scary woods? Huh. DO OVER! Pop your shoulder and contort your body so you don't have to go to that end of the arena when requested? DO OVER! Bolt again as we are doing a circle near the scary end of the arena? DO OVER! Many deep breaths, do-overs and re-focuses later, we worked at the spooky end of the arena quietly without a bolt or evasion.
Then I got off and called it good. Always end on a good note, even if it's a very basic one, such as working near the woods.
And it only took half an hour! :P Through all this I have gotten very, very good at recognizing when he's gonna lose his everlovin' mind and bolt. I can really feel him tense up just a bit right before he thinks about it and if I recognize it for what it is in time, I low, loud NO!, a grumble or an ACK! from me refocuses him and pretty much prevents the bolt.
Some days, it feels like we are back at square one and he thinks he doesn't know a thing, especially the knowledge about going forward and turning. That is SO frustrating.
Other days, he's golden and he seems to anticipate my every request with effortless grace and forwardness. Those are the days I enjoy most.
Those other days? Those are the days I threaten him with a Frenchman's fork.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Lazy days
Gabe has a new nickname: Mr. Lazy Pants.
Lounging around in the pasture and filling up on grass and clover and alfalfa all day must be hard work because when they come in for their night meal, he's seriously draggin' butt. It could be the weather, too: Hot and HUMID. The humidity is such an energy sapper for every one.
But I really think his Highness is feeling a bit worn out by the work it takes to be at the bottom of a herd, and his insatiable need to be a pest. This is the third week I've been able to turn all three out together as a herd and Gabe can be a bit overreactive. If Calypso turns her butt towards him, just turns, no threatening or warning, he's running to the other side of the pasture. If Chief lays his ears back at him, just a warning to back off a bit, not going after him, he's running to the other side of the pasture, flinging his head around and throwing a few bucks and squeals in there for good measure. I can't tell if he does it because he really is worried about getting kicked or if he's just using it as an excuse to run. He does like to run...when he's not being Mr. Lazy Pants.
He always runs back to his starting point, almost like he's saying "Ha! Ha! You can't catch me!" And they can't. Even though he's a track failure, he's MUCH faster than the other two butterballs and escapes teeth and feet every time. He hasn't a single mark on him, they just can't catch up to lay a tooth or a hoof on him. He has some amazing sliding stops and spins for a TB, that's for sure! My pastures aren't liking those sliding stops so much.
But he's a brat. Seriously, he's a giant, pestering brat and I really can't say I blame the other two for not putting up with his crap and giving him the stink eye when he comes near. I watched them this weekend and Gabe would creep up on one of the other two, slowly grazing his way towards them, watchful and wary, acting like la-tee-da, nothing going on over here, don't look at me, I'm just eating. Then, when he got close enough and the other horse was ignoring him and contentedly munching away, he'd reach out, nip the other on the butt, spin and take off running and bucking like a mad man while the other one whirled to find him already gone. He did it several times. He's like the bratty kid down the road who rings your doorbell then runs away.
I know he just wants them to play with him, but they aren't having any of it. I almost feel kind of bad for him because he's so playful and the other two, well, they just aren't. Chief is a Grumpy Old Man, and Calypso, she's just fat and not terribly athletic. It's easier to bury her head in the grass that *gasp!* trot or canter! But, I imagine he's having fun just pestering them or he wouldn't keep doing it.
Either that, or he's one of those horses who belongs on the short bus and takes a LONG time to figure things out. I really hope he's just having some fun!
Lounging around in the pasture and filling up on grass and clover and alfalfa all day must be hard work because when they come in for their night meal, he's seriously draggin' butt. It could be the weather, too: Hot and HUMID. The humidity is such an energy sapper for every one.
But I really think his Highness is feeling a bit worn out by the work it takes to be at the bottom of a herd, and his insatiable need to be a pest. This is the third week I've been able to turn all three out together as a herd and Gabe can be a bit overreactive. If Calypso turns her butt towards him, just turns, no threatening or warning, he's running to the other side of the pasture. If Chief lays his ears back at him, just a warning to back off a bit, not going after him, he's running to the other side of the pasture, flinging his head around and throwing a few bucks and squeals in there for good measure. I can't tell if he does it because he really is worried about getting kicked or if he's just using it as an excuse to run. He does like to run...when he's not being Mr. Lazy Pants.
He always runs back to his starting point, almost like he's saying "Ha! Ha! You can't catch me!" And they can't. Even though he's a track failure, he's MUCH faster than the other two butterballs and escapes teeth and feet every time. He hasn't a single mark on him, they just can't catch up to lay a tooth or a hoof on him. He has some amazing sliding stops and spins for a TB, that's for sure! My pastures aren't liking those sliding stops so much.
But he's a brat. Seriously, he's a giant, pestering brat and I really can't say I blame the other two for not putting up with his crap and giving him the stink eye when he comes near. I watched them this weekend and Gabe would creep up on one of the other two, slowly grazing his way towards them, watchful and wary, acting like la-tee-da, nothing going on over here, don't look at me, I'm just eating. Then, when he got close enough and the other horse was ignoring him and contentedly munching away, he'd reach out, nip the other on the butt, spin and take off running and bucking like a mad man while the other one whirled to find him already gone. He did it several times. He's like the bratty kid down the road who rings your doorbell then runs away.
I know he just wants them to play with him, but they aren't having any of it. I almost feel kind of bad for him because he's so playful and the other two, well, they just aren't. Chief is a Grumpy Old Man, and Calypso, she's just fat and not terribly athletic. It's easier to bury her head in the grass that *gasp!* trot or canter! But, I imagine he's having fun just pestering them or he wouldn't keep doing it.
Either that, or he's one of those horses who belongs on the short bus and takes a LONG time to figure things out. I really hope he's just having some fun!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Boys will be boys
I've been brainstorming about how to successfully (and without a lot of fight!) address Gabe's lack of desire to move forward off the leg at ANY gait. I could sit there and beat the snot out of him with a crop or kick kick kick until he gets it, but that's really not what I'm aiming for. I don't want to harangue and harass him until he gets the answer right, I want to work with him in the most non-confrontational manner as I can until I am forced to resort to something more demanding and uncomfortable for him. I am not afraid to be harsh with him if necessary, but I've found, with him in particular, it ends up being counterproductive because he shuts down when he doesn't understand what I'm asking and doesn't understand why he's being reprimanded. It's a lot like punishing a kindergartner for not being able to read Hemingway or Voltaire. He tries really hard to figure out what I'm asking and when he gets confused, he just shuts down and the naughty behavior emerges full on.
So, I'm going to use my husband and his mare, Calypso, to help me get the point across to Gabe about this moving forward off the leg thing. I know Gabe knows how to follow a pony horse, he did it for the first half of his life, and that's what Calypso is going to be until we work through this. The trick will be timing, by both myself and my husband, so that Gabe understands leg pressure means move forward, and Calypso is only there to provide INCENTIVE to move forward when I put my leg on and give the verbal command to walk. I really don't think this will take very long, maybe a couple of sessions. I discovered in our last session that he really, really, really opposes the crop. He's not scared of it, he just doesn't like it and kicked out at it more than once when I gave him a spank and bucked/crow hopped with additional spanks. Mind, I didn't whack him hard, and definitely no harder than a jockey ever whacked him, but the reaction was very, very negative. I pissed him off and as soon as he's pissed off I can forget about accomplishing anything of any kind of worth for that session. I can rub the crop all over his body and tickle his ears with it from the saddle, he just doesn't like to be spanked. What a prima donna.
We were going to try the pony horse session yesterday, but my husband wasn't feeling very well so he declined to ride. *sigh* That's the downside with this idea...my training partner has to be willing to help me train.
So, I longed Gabe instead. And he was a BRAT. He wanted to play on the line and kept trying to stop to eat grass which just irritates the crap out of me and is extremely bad behavior. Then there was the running out issue he decided to engage in. Every time he came around the circle on the west edge he'd duck his head, buck and try to take off running towards the gate area hauling my behind him. WRONG! That earned him the longe line over his poll and clipped to the opposite bit rather than onto the longing dee I normally use. Bad, bad horse. And he kept trying it, over and over and over again and he got punished each and every time. He finally gave up, heaved a gigantic sigh, chewed the bit, dropped his neck and got to work. After that he was golden...responding to the voice commands, spiraling in and out as I asked, slowing down and speeding up when I asked and really paying attention to everything.
Boys...sometimes they just have to get the spit and vinegar out of their system before they decide to get their butts to work!
So, I'm going to use my husband and his mare, Calypso, to help me get the point across to Gabe about this moving forward off the leg thing. I know Gabe knows how to follow a pony horse, he did it for the first half of his life, and that's what Calypso is going to be until we work through this. The trick will be timing, by both myself and my husband, so that Gabe understands leg pressure means move forward, and Calypso is only there to provide INCENTIVE to move forward when I put my leg on and give the verbal command to walk. I really don't think this will take very long, maybe a couple of sessions. I discovered in our last session that he really, really, really opposes the crop. He's not scared of it, he just doesn't like it and kicked out at it more than once when I gave him a spank and bucked/crow hopped with additional spanks. Mind, I didn't whack him hard, and definitely no harder than a jockey ever whacked him, but the reaction was very, very negative. I pissed him off and as soon as he's pissed off I can forget about accomplishing anything of any kind of worth for that session. I can rub the crop all over his body and tickle his ears with it from the saddle, he just doesn't like to be spanked. What a prima donna.
We were going to try the pony horse session yesterday, but my husband wasn't feeling very well so he declined to ride. *sigh* That's the downside with this idea...my training partner has to be willing to help me train.
So, I longed Gabe instead. And he was a BRAT. He wanted to play on the line and kept trying to stop to eat grass which just irritates the crap out of me and is extremely bad behavior. Then there was the running out issue he decided to engage in. Every time he came around the circle on the west edge he'd duck his head, buck and try to take off running towards the gate area hauling my behind him. WRONG! That earned him the longe line over his poll and clipped to the opposite bit rather than onto the longing dee I normally use. Bad, bad horse. And he kept trying it, over and over and over again and he got punished each and every time. He finally gave up, heaved a gigantic sigh, chewed the bit, dropped his neck and got to work. After that he was golden...responding to the voice commands, spiraling in and out as I asked, slowing down and speeding up when I asked and really paying attention to everything.
Boys...sometimes they just have to get the spit and vinegar out of their system before they decide to get their butts to work!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Who's the boss? I'm the boss!
It figures, just when I'm all prepared to go just have a nice standing session with Gabe (ha!), it rains like mad. There is mud and puddles EVERYWHERE! It's gorgeous out, sunny, a bit chilly, and very muddy.
What I wouldn't give for a nice, all-weather outdoor arena. I don't even need an indoor, I'll ride in just about any weather, but I won't ride in the slimy, slippery, deep mud we get around here. *Sigh* There is so much I want to get done on my farm, not enough in the farm funds to get 'em done any time soon.
The ponies got their feetsies done Saturday. Calypso has shoes again, she is the only one who gets shoes at the moment and she is SO much happier walking on iron than she is barefoot. I'd keep her shod all the time if I didn't think she'd slip and fall on the ice during the winter.
Gabe was apparently a complete ass for the farrier. I was absolutely mortified when I found out how bad he had been. Mortified. Kind of like when your kids do or say really bad things and you are MORTIFIED that you raised them! Same with Gabe.
Saturday was a busy day: the farrier was scheduled and the hay shed needed replenishing. My appointment with the hay guy overlapped the appointment with the farrier. Of course, when I asked hubby what he wanted to do, he chose to stay home and hold horses for the farrier. I got to go pick up hay. Yay me! Every time he has stayed home to hold horses for the farrier Gabe is a jerk for him. The last time he held him Gabe bit him and bit him hard enough to leave marks. This time, he wouldn't stand still and behaved like an unbroke baby.
Every time I hold Gabe for the farrier he behaves very nicely and stands still, but I expect him to and I absolutely require him to. My husband, bless his heart, knows just enough about horse handling to handle the well-broke ones with ease. The ones that like to test you, like Gabe, he is at a loss about how to make them behave. I don't know if he's afraid to make him behave or just doesn't know HOW to make him behave. I guess that's something I need to work on with Robert and probably with Gabe, too. He should be able to handle Gabe without any issues at all because he really isn't that difficult....if you know what you're doing.
Gabe likes to test you and if you don't pass his tests, he keeps pushing and getting brattier and brattier. He's one of those, who, if in a boarding situation, would develop a reputation for being a bad horse. Not necessarily because he's bad or entirely mannerless, but because he tests and pushes the limits if you don't push back and remind him who's in control. Usually all he needs is one good smack on the shoulder, a sharp, loud "NO!" or a quick trip walking backwards across the pasture on the end of the halter. He is always contrite after punishment and straightens the heck up.
I am the "boss mare," he respects me because I take NO crap from him. None. He's not even allowed to look at me funny and he is definitely not allowed to get mouthy or be wiggly. At all. Ever. He knows I'll "bite and kick" if he gets out of line. (I don't literally bite or kick him, you know what I mean!)
Robert is merely a play toy to the big guy because he has figured out that Robert won't push back and make him behave like he should. *sigh*
On the bright side: My pastures are a gorgeous emerald green. The rain has really pushed everything into overdrive on the growth front. Yay!
What I wouldn't give for a nice, all-weather outdoor arena. I don't even need an indoor, I'll ride in just about any weather, but I won't ride in the slimy, slippery, deep mud we get around here. *Sigh* There is so much I want to get done on my farm, not enough in the farm funds to get 'em done any time soon.
The ponies got their feetsies done Saturday. Calypso has shoes again, she is the only one who gets shoes at the moment and she is SO much happier walking on iron than she is barefoot. I'd keep her shod all the time if I didn't think she'd slip and fall on the ice during the winter.
Gabe was apparently a complete ass for the farrier. I was absolutely mortified when I found out how bad he had been. Mortified. Kind of like when your kids do or say really bad things and you are MORTIFIED that you raised them! Same with Gabe.
Saturday was a busy day: the farrier was scheduled and the hay shed needed replenishing. My appointment with the hay guy overlapped the appointment with the farrier. Of course, when I asked hubby what he wanted to do, he chose to stay home and hold horses for the farrier. I got to go pick up hay. Yay me! Every time he has stayed home to hold horses for the farrier Gabe is a jerk for him. The last time he held him Gabe bit him and bit him hard enough to leave marks. This time, he wouldn't stand still and behaved like an unbroke baby.
Every time I hold Gabe for the farrier he behaves very nicely and stands still, but I expect him to and I absolutely require him to. My husband, bless his heart, knows just enough about horse handling to handle the well-broke ones with ease. The ones that like to test you, like Gabe, he is at a loss about how to make them behave. I don't know if he's afraid to make him behave or just doesn't know HOW to make him behave. I guess that's something I need to work on with Robert and probably with Gabe, too. He should be able to handle Gabe without any issues at all because he really isn't that difficult....if you know what you're doing.
Gabe likes to test you and if you don't pass his tests, he keeps pushing and getting brattier and brattier. He's one of those, who, if in a boarding situation, would develop a reputation for being a bad horse. Not necessarily because he's bad or entirely mannerless, but because he tests and pushes the limits if you don't push back and remind him who's in control. Usually all he needs is one good smack on the shoulder, a sharp, loud "NO!" or a quick trip walking backwards across the pasture on the end of the halter. He is always contrite after punishment and straightens the heck up.
I am the "boss mare," he respects me because I take NO crap from him. None. He's not even allowed to look at me funny and he is definitely not allowed to get mouthy or be wiggly. At all. Ever. He knows I'll "bite and kick" if he gets out of line. (I don't literally bite or kick him, you know what I mean!)
Robert is merely a play toy to the big guy because he has figured out that Robert won't push back and make him behave like he should. *sigh*
On the bright side: My pastures are a gorgeous emerald green. The rain has really pushed everything into overdrive on the growth front. Yay!
Monday, February 2, 2009
My three kids
What a stellar day Sunday was! I got each horse ridden or worked and spent nearly my entire day outside in this unseasonably warm weather. Sunny and nearly 50! The snow was melting, the birds were singing, the sky was blue and the guys with the chainsaws were gone. A perfect day to take myself outside and get those wooly mammoth horses working.
I took Chief out first. While he is my daughter's horse, he needs an occasional tune-up to keep him honest. For the most part he's excellent for her, but sometimes, just sometimes, he gets full of himself and forgets how to turn when asked. I get on for a few sessions, remind him of his job and all is well. He was NOT happy about leaving Calypso and Gabe behind and those two certainly raised enough of a ruckus to remind him what he had left behind. We were out road riding for about 45 minutes, mostly at the walk since he isn't very fit at the moment. We saw dogs, peacocks and cows and a really loud ultralight flew over us. He eyeballed everything but was mostly well-behaved.
Then it was Calypso's turn. I haven't ridden her in a few weeks due to the crappy weather. She is barefoot at the moment and is one of those horses who has extremely sensitive feet so I try not to ride her if the ground is really hard. I'd leave her shod through the winter if I thought she'd be stable walking over the frozen ground and ice while wearing iron. She's not a very balanced, athletic or agile horse and I do think she'd go down if I left her walking on iron through the winter iciness, so, she goes barefoot and I don't ride her much while the ground is frozen.
She was a complete and total turd. I took her out on the road too, but in the opposite direction.
She kept trying to haul ass back home and walked very, very slowly away from the house. We went about 1.5 miles and turned around to come back. Holy moly! Instant energy! She couldn't remember how to walk...jigging with a giraffe neck was the only gait she knew! So we did lots of voltes. Lots and lots of voltes. All the way home. As long as she walked nicely (I'd even accept a fast walk...as long as it was a walk and not a jig, jog or trot) we'd walk straight. The moment she even thought about switching gears...BAM! Volte. Volte. Volte. Halt. Walk. Good girl. All the way home. What should have taken 20 mins. took nearly 45 mins. But, by the time we hit our driveway she was FINALLY walking nicely on a loose rein. So, she needs more regular work. I knew that. She is not one of those horses you can just pop back on after an extended vacation and all is good. She needs a couple of reminding sessions before all is good.
Finally, I worked Gabe. Obviously I'm not ready to take him out road riding yet and with the snow melting my riding area was a bit squishy. I didn't want to ride him in the squishiness, not after the other two were complete nut cases...I knew he'd be an even sillier nut case! So, he got lunged. He is also one of those who needs fairly regular work or he slips back. He played dumb to my voice commands for a few minutes then straightened up and behaved. We worked on voice commands (halt, walk, trot, reverse) and on keeping our circle round. He really likes to drift in towards me tracking right. I also adjusted the circle size from the end of the lunge line down to volte size and back out again to encourage him to stretch, balance, bend and carry himself, which he did.
Then, he decided to have a stupid moment. Down went the head, up went the heels. Buck, snort, kick, twist, leap, squeal. Did I mention the snow was melting and the ground was a bit squishy? Yup. A bit slippery, too. SMACK! Down he went flat onto his side with a grunt. He stayed flat for a microsecond and was back on his feet, staring at me. He had the gall to look at me like it was somehow MY fault he acted like an idiot and ended up on his butt! You know how sometimes you just have to let kids make mistakes so they learn from them? I have the same philosophy about horses. Gabe made a mistake and he realized it instantly. Whether he blames his fall on me or not, he ceased his rough housing and behaved like a perfect gentleman for the rest of our training session. He was even better behaved and listening nicely! He wasn't hurt, physically. I think his pride and ego were a bit dented, but he is fine. If he learned anything from that fall I hope he learned that HE is responsible for where he puts his feet and HE is responsible for making sure all four feet stay on the ground. And most of all, I hope he learned that goofing around like than on the lunge line is NOT acceptable.
It was a good day. I love how very different each of my horses are. Chief is the slow and steady senior with a bit of sass; Calypso is the ADD/ADHD worry wart and Gabriel is the over-confident teenager with "It wasn't MY FAULT!" issues.
I took Chief out first. While he is my daughter's horse, he needs an occasional tune-up to keep him honest. For the most part he's excellent for her, but sometimes, just sometimes, he gets full of himself and forgets how to turn when asked. I get on for a few sessions, remind him of his job and all is well. He was NOT happy about leaving Calypso and Gabe behind and those two certainly raised enough of a ruckus to remind him what he had left behind. We were out road riding for about 45 minutes, mostly at the walk since he isn't very fit at the moment. We saw dogs, peacocks and cows and a really loud ultralight flew over us. He eyeballed everything but was mostly well-behaved.
Then it was Calypso's turn. I haven't ridden her in a few weeks due to the crappy weather. She is barefoot at the moment and is one of those horses who has extremely sensitive feet so I try not to ride her if the ground is really hard. I'd leave her shod through the winter if I thought she'd be stable walking over the frozen ground and ice while wearing iron. She's not a very balanced, athletic or agile horse and I do think she'd go down if I left her walking on iron through the winter iciness, so, she goes barefoot and I don't ride her much while the ground is frozen.
She was a complete and total turd. I took her out on the road too, but in the opposite direction.
She kept trying to haul ass back home and walked very, very slowly away from the house. We went about 1.5 miles and turned around to come back. Holy moly! Instant energy! She couldn't remember how to walk...jigging with a giraffe neck was the only gait she knew! So we did lots of voltes. Lots and lots of voltes. All the way home. As long as she walked nicely (I'd even accept a fast walk...as long as it was a walk and not a jig, jog or trot) we'd walk straight. The moment she even thought about switching gears...BAM! Volte. Volte. Volte. Halt. Walk. Good girl. All the way home. What should have taken 20 mins. took nearly 45 mins. But, by the time we hit our driveway she was FINALLY walking nicely on a loose rein. So, she needs more regular work. I knew that. She is not one of those horses you can just pop back on after an extended vacation and all is good. She needs a couple of reminding sessions before all is good.
Finally, I worked Gabe. Obviously I'm not ready to take him out road riding yet and with the snow melting my riding area was a bit squishy. I didn't want to ride him in the squishiness, not after the other two were complete nut cases...I knew he'd be an even sillier nut case! So, he got lunged. He is also one of those who needs fairly regular work or he slips back. He played dumb to my voice commands for a few minutes then straightened up and behaved. We worked on voice commands (halt, walk, trot, reverse) and on keeping our circle round. He really likes to drift in towards me tracking right. I also adjusted the circle size from the end of the lunge line down to volte size and back out again to encourage him to stretch, balance, bend and carry himself, which he did.
Then, he decided to have a stupid moment. Down went the head, up went the heels. Buck, snort, kick, twist, leap, squeal. Did I mention the snow was melting and the ground was a bit squishy? Yup. A bit slippery, too. SMACK! Down he went flat onto his side with a grunt. He stayed flat for a microsecond and was back on his feet, staring at me. He had the gall to look at me like it was somehow MY fault he acted like an idiot and ended up on his butt! You know how sometimes you just have to let kids make mistakes so they learn from them? I have the same philosophy about horses. Gabe made a mistake and he realized it instantly. Whether he blames his fall on me or not, he ceased his rough housing and behaved like a perfect gentleman for the rest of our training session. He was even better behaved and listening nicely! He wasn't hurt, physically. I think his pride and ego were a bit dented, but he is fine. If he learned anything from that fall I hope he learned that HE is responsible for where he puts his feet and HE is responsible for making sure all four feet stay on the ground. And most of all, I hope he learned that goofing around like than on the lunge line is NOT acceptable.
It was a good day. I love how very different each of my horses are. Chief is the slow and steady senior with a bit of sass; Calypso is the ADD/ADHD worry wart and Gabriel is the over-confident teenager with "It wasn't MY FAULT!" issues.
Monday, November 10, 2008
The 6-foot menace
Robert called my horse a great big, toddling brat. More than once. He even threatened to sell him for glue. *gasp!* Poor Gabe was dubbed a turd, a brat, a rotten brat, a spoiled toddler and a snot.
Why would my big, sweet horse garner such awful monikers?
Because he was being all of the above.
We are building a new run-in shed in Gabe's paddock. Saturday Robert and Alexis (my teenager) meticulously measured and staked out the spot where the new run-in is to be built. Robert, who is becoming more and more a horse person every day, realized he couldn't leave the stakes out there in the paddock with Gabe and asked for suggestions to protect the beast from the stakes. I was impressed that he realized all kinds of awful things could happen to a horse left in a paddock with a bunch of wood stakes sticking out of the ground. I suggested inverting used gallon bleach bottles over the stakes to make them more visible and less dangerous.
I thought it was a pretty good idea. Robert and Alexis cut all the tops of the bottles so they would fit over the stakes, slipped a bottle over each stake and considered it good.
Gabe considered the whole thing a brand-new toy. Within minutes that big brat had every. single. bottle. pulled off the stakes and smashed. He smashed them flat with his teeth and with his feet. He tossed them around a bit and tossed them into the air. Once the bottles were flat and no longer fun, he proceeded to yank out every stake out of the ground and toss them willy-nilly around his paddock.
Oh, he had GREAT fun destroying all of their hard work! They were none too pleased with my big goof ball and the name-calling commenced. I think he even got called a steak at one point!
So, back out we went the next day to start on the run-in. Gabe would NOT leave us alone. He was in our faces, resting his head on our backs, nuzzling around in our hair, trying to grab sleeves and coats in his teeth and being a general pain in the butt. He even managed to steal a corner measure, a hammer and a level and take off with them, like a rotten little toddler. Do you have any idea how hard it is to swing a hammer when you have a horse right behind you trying to STEAL the hammer? Ugh.
So, that bugger got tossed out of his own paddock for being a way too curious big ole pain in the butt. I think he was a bit peeved that we kicked him off the playground and he threw a little bucking fit.
But I love him anyway. If he wasn't such a turd, he wouldn't be so much fun!
Why would my big, sweet horse garner such awful monikers?
Because he was being all of the above.
We are building a new run-in shed in Gabe's paddock. Saturday Robert and Alexis (my teenager) meticulously measured and staked out the spot where the new run-in is to be built. Robert, who is becoming more and more a horse person every day, realized he couldn't leave the stakes out there in the paddock with Gabe and asked for suggestions to protect the beast from the stakes. I was impressed that he realized all kinds of awful things could happen to a horse left in a paddock with a bunch of wood stakes sticking out of the ground. I suggested inverting used gallon bleach bottles over the stakes to make them more visible and less dangerous.
I thought it was a pretty good idea. Robert and Alexis cut all the tops of the bottles so they would fit over the stakes, slipped a bottle over each stake and considered it good.
Gabe considered the whole thing a brand-new toy. Within minutes that big brat had every. single. bottle. pulled off the stakes and smashed. He smashed them flat with his teeth and with his feet. He tossed them around a bit and tossed them into the air. Once the bottles were flat and no longer fun, he proceeded to yank out every stake out of the ground and toss them willy-nilly around his paddock.
Oh, he had GREAT fun destroying all of their hard work! They were none too pleased with my big goof ball and the name-calling commenced. I think he even got called a steak at one point!
So, back out we went the next day to start on the run-in. Gabe would NOT leave us alone. He was in our faces, resting his head on our backs, nuzzling around in our hair, trying to grab sleeves and coats in his teeth and being a general pain in the butt. He even managed to steal a corner measure, a hammer and a level and take off with them, like a rotten little toddler. Do you have any idea how hard it is to swing a hammer when you have a horse right behind you trying to STEAL the hammer? Ugh.
So, that bugger got tossed out of his own paddock for being a way too curious big ole pain in the butt. I think he was a bit peeved that we kicked him off the playground and he threw a little bucking fit.
But I love him anyway. If he wasn't such a turd, he wouldn't be so much fun!
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Gabe throws a royal fit
He finally did it. He threw a teenage temper tantrum. If he was an actual human teenager he would have rolled his eyes, huffed loudly, stomped through the house to slam the bedroom door while telling me how I'm out to ruin his life FOREVER and that I NEVER let him have any fun at all. He probably would have flung something at the closed door just to make sure I knew he was pissed.
Gabe throwing a temper tantrum is a bit scary. He's HUGE and those hooves and legs have quite the reach on them, especially when you're the 5'2" human holding the end of the rope. He throws noisy tantrums, seriously, it was almost funny the way he was grunting and snorting during the fit throwing shenanigans.
We started with a 15-minute session of grooming with him tied to the post. He was mostly a gentleman. Not too wiggly and no pulling back at all. Still not cured of the pulling, but getting there. How do I know he's not cured? He stands there, but he's not relaxed. He's tense and worried about being tied up, but at least he stood this time.
Aside from the walk I took him on with Calypso not too long ago, all of our work has been in a pasture where he can see the other horses. He's close to them, the pasture is familiar, life is good and he works happily.
I decided it was time to change things up a bit so I took him out for a walk, alone, down our driveway. We have a pretty long driveway, nearly half a mile, and the other horses are out of sight pretty quickly. He was very non-happy about that, but, as long as we were walking and I was keeping his attention with regular halts and turns on the forehand/haunches, he was pretty good. A little nervous, but paying attention.
The driveway curves around the pond and there's a good-sized flat, grassy area between the pond and the driveway. My goal was to get him there, let him graze for a couple of minutes and do some lunge work in a new place. No new commands, just a new place.
So, he can't see the other horses, but he can hear Calypso screaming for him. The weather was changing quickly as a big, noisy thunderstorm was rolling in AND we were in a new place. Apparently, all that was too much for him and he decided he was going to have fits on the end of my line. Bucking and rearing and grunting and trying to run off back to the other horses. I'd get him moving at a walk at the end of the line and he'd lunge and buck and grunt and rear and try to take off, again and again. He can be pretty scary when he's acting like a spoiled brat and I wished, more than once, that I had plunked my hard hat on before I took him out. I guarantee I WILL be wearing the hat next time.
Finally, after dealing with his juvenile tantrums and reprimanding him with lots of backing up and tight, tight turns on the forehand/haunches to refocus him, I got him to walk once, mostly calmly, on a circle around me. Once he accomplished that simple task, we headed back. I decided it was probably not a good day to attempt to continue with our session in the wide open spaces. We headed to a different pasture, one I haven't worked him in, and made his goofy butt work HARD in there. By the end of the session he was quiet and listening and appropriately contrite for acting like a fool.
My new goal is to take him out and work him in strange places much more often. He has to learn that in every situation, in every place, no matter how new or scary, he MUST listen to me and not throw fits. His behavior was absolutely UNACCEPTABLE. Especially with as big as he is. He can get very dangerous very quickly if he decides he's done listening. He has to learn that behaving badly can be MUCH worse for him than whatever scary or nerve-wracking situation he might be in. He has to learn to turn to me in those scary situations. I can't make him not be scared or nervous about things, but I can teach him how to respond appropriately in those situations.
Next time, I'm wearing my hard hat. I don't need a big Gabe hoof making contact with my naked noggin.
Gabe throwing a temper tantrum is a bit scary. He's HUGE and those hooves and legs have quite the reach on them, especially when you're the 5'2" human holding the end of the rope. He throws noisy tantrums, seriously, it was almost funny the way he was grunting and snorting during the fit throwing shenanigans.
We started with a 15-minute session of grooming with him tied to the post. He was mostly a gentleman. Not too wiggly and no pulling back at all. Still not cured of the pulling, but getting there. How do I know he's not cured? He stands there, but he's not relaxed. He's tense and worried about being tied up, but at least he stood this time.
Aside from the walk I took him on with Calypso not too long ago, all of our work has been in a pasture where he can see the other horses. He's close to them, the pasture is familiar, life is good and he works happily.
I decided it was time to change things up a bit so I took him out for a walk, alone, down our driveway. We have a pretty long driveway, nearly half a mile, and the other horses are out of sight pretty quickly. He was very non-happy about that, but, as long as we were walking and I was keeping his attention with regular halts and turns on the forehand/haunches, he was pretty good. A little nervous, but paying attention.
The driveway curves around the pond and there's a good-sized flat, grassy area between the pond and the driveway. My goal was to get him there, let him graze for a couple of minutes and do some lunge work in a new place. No new commands, just a new place.
So, he can't see the other horses, but he can hear Calypso screaming for him. The weather was changing quickly as a big, noisy thunderstorm was rolling in AND we were in a new place. Apparently, all that was too much for him and he decided he was going to have fits on the end of my line. Bucking and rearing and grunting and trying to run off back to the other horses. I'd get him moving at a walk at the end of the line and he'd lunge and buck and grunt and rear and try to take off, again and again. He can be pretty scary when he's acting like a spoiled brat and I wished, more than once, that I had plunked my hard hat on before I took him out. I guarantee I WILL be wearing the hat next time.
Finally, after dealing with his juvenile tantrums and reprimanding him with lots of backing up and tight, tight turns on the forehand/haunches to refocus him, I got him to walk once, mostly calmly, on a circle around me. Once he accomplished that simple task, we headed back. I decided it was probably not a good day to attempt to continue with our session in the wide open spaces. We headed to a different pasture, one I haven't worked him in, and made his goofy butt work HARD in there. By the end of the session he was quiet and listening and appropriately contrite for acting like a fool.
My new goal is to take him out and work him in strange places much more often. He has to learn that in every situation, in every place, no matter how new or scary, he MUST listen to me and not throw fits. His behavior was absolutely UNACCEPTABLE. Especially with as big as he is. He can get very dangerous very quickly if he decides he's done listening. He has to learn that behaving badly can be MUCH worse for him than whatever scary or nerve-wracking situation he might be in. He has to learn to turn to me in those scary situations. I can't make him not be scared or nervous about things, but I can teach him how to respond appropriately in those situations.
Next time, I'm wearing my hard hat. I don't need a big Gabe hoof making contact with my naked noggin.
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