Friday, March 26, 2010
What a mare!
Linking to a post from Equine Progressive about my favorite racing mare...she just becomes more amazing every time I hear about her.
Monday, March 22, 2010
He's a fake blonde
We have a problem.
It's not a huge problem, but a problem nonetheless.
You see, Gabe's tail is supposed to look like this:
Look how pristine and white and beautiful that tail is.
Instead, we have this:
Seriously. What is this? Blonde day? Not even an attractive blonde, but rather a mud-stained, urine-shaded yellow blonde.
Here, look at it again:
Is that not icky? It's supposed to be WHITE! Hmm...think maybe the constant rolling in the mud (as is evidenced by the mud clinging to his legs!) has anything to do with the state of his tail?
"Mud? What mud? Oh, you mean THIS stuff? I like to roll in this stuff...oh! And sleep in it!"
I have never, ever had a horse with a white tail before. The horses I've groomed for who had white tails lived in stalls with those tails spending most of their lives snug inside a tail bag. Cleaning them wasn't hard, and they were always white. I have a feeling a tail bag wouldn't last for very long on Gabe...either he would remove it or Chief would remove it for him.
I have no idea how to get this thing de-yellowed without damaging the hairs. We all know how very fragile those tail hairs can be!
So, I am open to suggestions...something that will help me get that tail white again without damaging those hairs. When he came to me the tail barely grazed the top of his hocks, so it's done a lot of growing! It's nice and thick and getting longer, and I'd like to keep it that way.
But I'd also like it to be white.
It's not a huge problem, but a problem nonetheless.
You see, Gabe's tail is supposed to look like this:
Look how pristine and white and beautiful that tail is.
Instead, we have this:
Seriously. What is this? Blonde day? Not even an attractive blonde, but rather a mud-stained, urine-shaded yellow blonde.
Here, look at it again:
Is that not icky? It's supposed to be WHITE! Hmm...think maybe the constant rolling in the mud (as is evidenced by the mud clinging to his legs!) has anything to do with the state of his tail?
"Mud? What mud? Oh, you mean THIS stuff? I like to roll in this stuff...oh! And sleep in it!"
I have never, ever had a horse with a white tail before. The horses I've groomed for who had white tails lived in stalls with those tails spending most of their lives snug inside a tail bag. Cleaning them wasn't hard, and they were always white. I have a feeling a tail bag wouldn't last for very long on Gabe...either he would remove it or Chief would remove it for him.
I have no idea how to get this thing de-yellowed without damaging the hairs. We all know how very fragile those tail hairs can be!
So, I am open to suggestions...something that will help me get that tail white again without damaging those hairs. When he came to me the tail barely grazed the top of his hocks, so it's done a lot of growing! It's nice and thick and getting longer, and I'd like to keep it that way.
But I'd also like it to be white.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Mmmm...tasty!
Mr. Gabe is super mouthy, I've mentioned that before. He's almost like a teething toddler...must have something in his mouth all the time. Yesterday he tore a huge hole in the seat of my tractor while I was cleaning his run-in. Most of the time he limits himself to chewing on the rubber tires, but noooo....the seat was his victim instead.
He used to be very, very wiggly while tied, then, he discovered he could gnaw on the rope during grooming and tacking and he stands much, much better.
It starts with lip wiggles on the rope and tentative testing with the tongue:
Quickly it goes from testing to active, slobber-inducing tasting:
Most days he inhales a huge loop of rope up into his maw to gnaw on it with his molars. This time, he is content with mouthing and licking it:
He spends a lot of time trying to get the rope INTO his mouth. I think that's part of the challenge of the game for him, just staying busy. He's one of those horses who I think would really benefit from one of those pony pop licky things you can mount in their stalls.
Some horses have the head to really show off a fine figure-8 to it's fullest. I personally love the look of a figure-8 on a fine-looking horse head. I think Gabe pulls the look off well!
Isn't he a handsome guy? I'm pretty sure he knows it, too.
He used to be very, very wiggly while tied, then, he discovered he could gnaw on the rope during grooming and tacking and he stands much, much better.
It starts with lip wiggles on the rope and tentative testing with the tongue:
Quickly it goes from testing to active, slobber-inducing tasting:
Most days he inhales a huge loop of rope up into his maw to gnaw on it with his molars. This time, he is content with mouthing and licking it:
He spends a lot of time trying to get the rope INTO his mouth. I think that's part of the challenge of the game for him, just staying busy. He's one of those horses who I think would really benefit from one of those pony pop licky things you can mount in their stalls.
Some horses have the head to really show off a fine figure-8 to it's fullest. I personally love the look of a figure-8 on a fine-looking horse head. I think Gabe pulls the look off well!
Isn't he a handsome guy? I'm pretty sure he knows it, too.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Sproingy, sproingy, sproingy!
Yesterday's ride had me thinking about how often we ask a horse, a prey animal, to put their trust in us. And how often they resist their natural instincts and trust us to protect them.
Every time we are with them, whether it's just hanging around, grooming or riding, we are developing a little more trust, a stronger relationship. We ask them to stand nicely while tied up, a compromising position for any prey animal. We ask them to walk quietly through the woods when by instinct, they should be hyper-aware of mountain lions in the trees or wolves lurking behind bushes.
We ask them to trust us enough to go out into the big, scary world without the safety and companionship of their herdmates and yet, still continue to be on their best behavior. That's a lot of trust we shoulder and to let them down can set back training by leaps and bounds.
For the first time I took Gabe into the woods and fields next door to our property all by himself. It's a gorgeous piece of property, half of it woods with trails cut through it, the other half a big beautiful meadow with trails all through it. It's a beautiful, perfect place for conditioning work. A grass road follows the edge of the entire property, gently rolling, through woods, around the meadow, along the edge of a pond and perfect for galloping and speed work. I haven't done that YET, but it's on the list.
I think he trusts me. He walked willingly across our bridge (it's just a concrete slab over the creek) and into the woods. He watched and looked with interest, those cute little ears pricked forward, but never hesitated. Never even hesitated to cross the bridge which in the past has presented a bravery challenge for Calypso.
He walked through puddles and mud without blinking. He did, however, have a little bit of an issue figuring out where to put his feet when we had to walk over a downed tree and negotiate the tangle of dead branches. He got a little confused about where to put his hind feet and just kind of crashed through the rotten limbs. It's good practice for him and when we went back over it he didn't hit a single branch. He jumped a little bit when a rabbit whipped out in front of us. It startled me, too. But he never hesitated or refused to do what I asked.
At least, not until Calypso started calling for him about 20 minutes in to our ride. We were far enough away that it was a faint call, but definitely Calypso's high scream opposed to Chief's low neigh.
Gabe's head came up when he heard her, he took smaller, faster steps and started jigging. Oh. Great. I can tolerate fast walks, but the jigging drives. me. crazy. Jig. Jig. Jig. Jig. GAH! I continued to ask for forward and he tried to rear and spin to go back towards his herdmates. A quick, tight circle and a heel in his side straightened him up.
He then grew about 6 inches and continued to take tiny, mincing steps, obviously wanting to go back from whence we came, but really trying to listen to me and trust in my direction. He was having a battle inside his head: Herdmates! Rider! Herdmates! Rider! AHHHHHH!!!!!
With every step he snorted, the steps got higher and slower and pretty soon I was riding an un-asked for piaffe. He had decent form for an untrained movement! Perfect? Not hardly, but it seems a very natural a movement for him. Hooray! So, I took the opportunity he presented and I went with it. I asked for a little more forward (since he was already balanced well back on his hocks and coiled up like a tightly wound spring) and we had a dozen or so wonderful steps of a very powerful passage. Woo hoo! I was ecstatic!
He started losing his balance a bit (it was muddy in the woods, not the most desirable place to school dressage movements! And, he's not fit enough to sustain it for any length of time.) so I pushed him into a nice canter and he responded with controlled enthusiasm.
I got his brain back by making him work and concentrate and his trust settled back to me instead of reaching out to his herd mates. Yes, he was listening for Calypso's call, but he was listening to ME instead.
I wonder if it helped that I started singing to him after Calypso's first holler? I won't tell you what I serenaded him with, but it might have to do with a lamb and a little girl named Mary. And a later song might have had to do with sunshine and making me happy.
In the end, he could have easily ditched me and left me sitting in the mud to go galloping back to the safety of his friends. There is no way I could win a real fight with an 1,100#, 16.2hh horse who decides to listen to instinct instead of throwing it away and trusting in the human.
I must be doing something right.
Every time we are with them, whether it's just hanging around, grooming or riding, we are developing a little more trust, a stronger relationship. We ask them to stand nicely while tied up, a compromising position for any prey animal. We ask them to walk quietly through the woods when by instinct, they should be hyper-aware of mountain lions in the trees or wolves lurking behind bushes.
We ask them to trust us enough to go out into the big, scary world without the safety and companionship of their herdmates and yet, still continue to be on their best behavior. That's a lot of trust we shoulder and to let them down can set back training by leaps and bounds.
For the first time I took Gabe into the woods and fields next door to our property all by himself. It's a gorgeous piece of property, half of it woods with trails cut through it, the other half a big beautiful meadow with trails all through it. It's a beautiful, perfect place for conditioning work. A grass road follows the edge of the entire property, gently rolling, through woods, around the meadow, along the edge of a pond and perfect for galloping and speed work. I haven't done that YET, but it's on the list.
I think he trusts me. He walked willingly across our bridge (it's just a concrete slab over the creek) and into the woods. He watched and looked with interest, those cute little ears pricked forward, but never hesitated. Never even hesitated to cross the bridge which in the past has presented a bravery challenge for Calypso.
He walked through puddles and mud without blinking. He did, however, have a little bit of an issue figuring out where to put his feet when we had to walk over a downed tree and negotiate the tangle of dead branches. He got a little confused about where to put his hind feet and just kind of crashed through the rotten limbs. It's good practice for him and when we went back over it he didn't hit a single branch. He jumped a little bit when a rabbit whipped out in front of us. It startled me, too. But he never hesitated or refused to do what I asked.
At least, not until Calypso started calling for him about 20 minutes in to our ride. We were far enough away that it was a faint call, but definitely Calypso's high scream opposed to Chief's low neigh.
Gabe's head came up when he heard her, he took smaller, faster steps and started jigging. Oh. Great. I can tolerate fast walks, but the jigging drives. me. crazy. Jig. Jig. Jig. Jig. GAH! I continued to ask for forward and he tried to rear and spin to go back towards his herdmates. A quick, tight circle and a heel in his side straightened him up.
He then grew about 6 inches and continued to take tiny, mincing steps, obviously wanting to go back from whence we came, but really trying to listen to me and trust in my direction. He was having a battle inside his head: Herdmates! Rider! Herdmates! Rider! AHHHHHH!!!!!
With every step he snorted, the steps got higher and slower and pretty soon I was riding an un-asked for piaffe. He had decent form for an untrained movement! Perfect? Not hardly, but it seems a very natural a movement for him. Hooray! So, I took the opportunity he presented and I went with it. I asked for a little more forward (since he was already balanced well back on his hocks and coiled up like a tightly wound spring) and we had a dozen or so wonderful steps of a very powerful passage. Woo hoo! I was ecstatic!
He started losing his balance a bit (it was muddy in the woods, not the most desirable place to school dressage movements! And, he's not fit enough to sustain it for any length of time.) so I pushed him into a nice canter and he responded with controlled enthusiasm.
I got his brain back by making him work and concentrate and his trust settled back to me instead of reaching out to his herd mates. Yes, he was listening for Calypso's call, but he was listening to ME instead.
I wonder if it helped that I started singing to him after Calypso's first holler? I won't tell you what I serenaded him with, but it might have to do with a lamb and a little girl named Mary. And a later song might have had to do with sunshine and making me happy.
In the end, he could have easily ditched me and left me sitting in the mud to go galloping back to the safety of his friends. There is no way I could win a real fight with an 1,100#, 16.2hh horse who decides to listen to instinct instead of throwing it away and trusting in the human.
I must be doing something right.
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!
Monday, March 15, 2010
The most memorable
Most of my childhood memories involve horses or are centered around horse activities. I consider myself pretty danged lucky to have what a lot of horse-fanatic girls didn't: My own horses and friends who shared my passion.
There has never been a time in my life when horses weren't a part of it, one way or another.
I used horses as an excuse to skip out of high school with my best friend. They were her horses, and yes, they managed to get out of the pasture yet again and her parents were not horse people. No, she probably didn't REALLY need help catching them, but what better excuse to leave school on a breathtakingly beautiful spring day for some much-needed horse time? I'm pretty sure that happened more than once. In fact, I'm positive it did. No regrets.
During my junior year a group of us skipped an entire day of school to go riding. It was too nice out to sit inside and listen to teachers and it just kind of happened. I don't know who suggested it, but it was a fabulous idea.
It was probably the craziest, best, most memorable ride I ever had with my high school friends.
See, our friend Wayne was dying from leukemia. Little did we know he'd be dead less than two months after our day of stolen freedom. Little did we know that was really the last time he'd feel strong enough to do anything wild and crazy.
He wasn't a rider, but that didn't stop him from enjoying it. He doubled up with me, bareback, on one of the many ponies and horses owned by the family of one of our classmates. She didn't ask and we ALL knew how strict her parents were. Not only were we skipping school, we were stealing the horses and riding off the property.
We all knew if they found out there would be hell to pay. They found out, hell was paid and none of us regretted it.
About half of our group were riders...the other half, not so much. But we doubled up bareback anyway and headed across the fields blooming with tall native Kansas grasses and made a beeline to the creek. It was far too early in the season for swimming, but we didn't care. So what if the creek was still cold? We were skipping school to RIDE! It could not get any more perfect than that.
Our little group of horse girls spent summers in that creek with our equine partners...parking the ponies in the deep spots, guiding their noses to the thick grasses growing on the high bank and using them as mobile diving platforms while they stood and munched. Such wonderfully forgiving partners we had! Or, they were just typical ponies who wouldn't budge when presented with a tasty patch of grass.
We headed across the field, a couple of the horses moving out fast with the unexpected excitement in their otherwise boring day and so many kids laughing like nothing in the world mattered. The horse Wayne and I were on tossed in a little crow hop, probably expressing the same zest for life we were feeling that day, and he got dumped. He didn't go flying, just kind of slid off and landed on his knees, laughing the entire way down and still grinning as he stood back up and readied to jump back up behind me.
The spring sun shone off his bald head like a golden beacon and he had such an infectious laugh you couldn't help but laugh along. He was great about being able to laugh at himself, despite the very wrongness of someone so young and vital being so sick. He constantly picked fun at his own bald head. It was kind of hard to feel guilty about his sudden, unexpected dismount when he was laughing about it. And I laughed along and gave him my hand to help haul him back up.
He climbed back up and away we went, reveling in the day and celebrating life as only a teenage boy living under a death sentence could.
He was amazing. To this day thinking about him inspires me and all these years later, his memory makes me smile.
I think knowing him changed the whole group of us. A bunch of 16 and 17 year olds faced with the inevitable death of a friend and trying to deal with it the best way they knew: By skipping school and riding off into the prairie on a bunch of stolen horses.
There has never been a time in my life when horses weren't a part of it, one way or another.
I used horses as an excuse to skip out of high school with my best friend. They were her horses, and yes, they managed to get out of the pasture yet again and her parents were not horse people. No, she probably didn't REALLY need help catching them, but what better excuse to leave school on a breathtakingly beautiful spring day for some much-needed horse time? I'm pretty sure that happened more than once. In fact, I'm positive it did. No regrets.
During my junior year a group of us skipped an entire day of school to go riding. It was too nice out to sit inside and listen to teachers and it just kind of happened. I don't know who suggested it, but it was a fabulous idea.
It was probably the craziest, best, most memorable ride I ever had with my high school friends.
See, our friend Wayne was dying from leukemia. Little did we know he'd be dead less than two months after our day of stolen freedom. Little did we know that was really the last time he'd feel strong enough to do anything wild and crazy.
He wasn't a rider, but that didn't stop him from enjoying it. He doubled up with me, bareback, on one of the many ponies and horses owned by the family of one of our classmates. She didn't ask and we ALL knew how strict her parents were. Not only were we skipping school, we were stealing the horses and riding off the property.
We all knew if they found out there would be hell to pay. They found out, hell was paid and none of us regretted it.
About half of our group were riders...the other half, not so much. But we doubled up bareback anyway and headed across the fields blooming with tall native Kansas grasses and made a beeline to the creek. It was far too early in the season for swimming, but we didn't care. So what if the creek was still cold? We were skipping school to RIDE! It could not get any more perfect than that.
Our little group of horse girls spent summers in that creek with our equine partners...parking the ponies in the deep spots, guiding their noses to the thick grasses growing on the high bank and using them as mobile diving platforms while they stood and munched. Such wonderfully forgiving partners we had! Or, they were just typical ponies who wouldn't budge when presented with a tasty patch of grass.
We headed across the field, a couple of the horses moving out fast with the unexpected excitement in their otherwise boring day and so many kids laughing like nothing in the world mattered. The horse Wayne and I were on tossed in a little crow hop, probably expressing the same zest for life we were feeling that day, and he got dumped. He didn't go flying, just kind of slid off and landed on his knees, laughing the entire way down and still grinning as he stood back up and readied to jump back up behind me.
The spring sun shone off his bald head like a golden beacon and he had such an infectious laugh you couldn't help but laugh along. He was great about being able to laugh at himself, despite the very wrongness of someone so young and vital being so sick. He constantly picked fun at his own bald head. It was kind of hard to feel guilty about his sudden, unexpected dismount when he was laughing about it. And I laughed along and gave him my hand to help haul him back up.
He climbed back up and away we went, reveling in the day and celebrating life as only a teenage boy living under a death sentence could.
He was amazing. To this day thinking about him inspires me and all these years later, his memory makes me smile.
I think knowing him changed the whole group of us. A bunch of 16 and 17 year olds faced with the inevitable death of a friend and trying to deal with it the best way they knew: By skipping school and riding off into the prairie on a bunch of stolen horses.
Helmet Cam!
(No, not mine!) What a gorgeous course and a happy, forward horse. I love the way he talks to him through the entire ride. Enjoy!
Red Hills Horse Trials 2010 - Three Star World Cup - Peter Atkins
Red Hills Horse Trials 2010 - Three Star World Cup - Peter Atkins
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