He is...

He is a great big dork sometimes. (Okay, most of the time.)
He is always a trouble-maker and the root cause of great mischief.
He is an eater of anything that doesn't eat him first. He's the horse you have to keep the pastures poisonous-plant free for. He will eat it, even if it tastes nasty.
He eats John Deere seats and gnaws on steering wheels.
He dribbles his meals down my arm every day. I own no barn coats without Gabe slobber and bits of grain stuck to the sleeve.
He steals tools and has been known to run off with drills. He does not make sinking a post into concrete perfectly perpendicular to the ground an easy task.
He is sneaky and wily, especially when he's playing face wars with Chief. Or when he thinks I'm not giving him enough attention.
He is certainly forgetful. Whether that is on purpose, in defiance or merely a result of his Thoroughbred brain, I don't know, but sometimes, halt and stand still is a complete mystery to him.
He is playful and curious.
He is wonderful and fun and gorgeous and the horse of a lifetime.
He is my buddy, my secret-keeper, my tear-absorber and my psychologist.
He makes me forget every worry in the world and laugh at the wind.

And it's good to know the trailer training he received as a racehorse stuck in his brain.

Because I now have one parked in my driveway and I'm more thrilled than I can ever fully express.

Oh, the places we will go!

A greater maturity (ahahahaha!!!)

Gabe will be six on Thursday. Which technically means he should start growing a brain and not behave like a silly, naughty little juvenile quite so often.

One can always dream, right? I don't think he'll EVER grow out of that wonderfully curious, into everything, can I help?, nosy, playful personality and I'm glad for that.

SIX! Wow. I feel like we should be so much further along than we are. I had expected to have hunted him at least one season by now, maybe started popping over some 3' fences at the very least and become at least moderately consistent in our dressage work.

Nope. Seems that time gets away from me faster than I imagined it could.

But somehow, that's okay. We're rolling up quickly into regular riding season again and I'm going to (once again) attempt to keep some semblance of a riding/training journal. The last time I tried I managed to record my riding sessions a grand total of three times. It would be so helpful to know exactly how each ride went, what worked, what didn't and what we really need to focus on for the next ride. I'm getting older, and with it, my brain, which means as much as I could count on remembering the details of the last ride a few years ago, I think I really need to write it down as a reference from now on.

Goals for this year:
• Work on Gabe's sensitivity...something I never imagined I'd say with a Thoroughbred! He can be infuriatingly dead-sided when he just doesn't feel like doing it. Which leads naturally to:
• Forwardness and energy
• Better, steady rhythm at the trot and canter
• Circles!
• Lateral movement/shoulder-in/shoulder-out
• Jumping higher than a paltry 18" on a course/ditches/small drops/spreads
• Simple lead changes
• More out and alone rides to build the confidence
• Greater adjustability within each gait

Seems like a short enough list, but knowing Gabe like I know him, this will be one gargantuan task! I'm planning to ride at least four days a week, preferably five, and not every ride a "work" ride, but plenty of just out and about trail rides. I will have to really tighten up my work/school/farm/home schedule to fit those rides in, but I'll figure it out, even if I have to get up at 4 a.m. to beat the afternoon heat and ride with a headlamp.

I've been working on improving my own fitness all winter (since I haven't been in the saddle much), and I've not only gotten stronger and more flexible, but I've also managed to lose 37 pounds (so far!) with a few more to go. Before you know it, Gabe and I will BOTH be fit and sexy.

Oh, hunting I want to go!

I miss foxhunting. Very badly. It is a thrill like no other I can even begin to describe. I grew up foxhunting with my mom and my first hunts were with the Ft. Leavenworth Hunt in Kansas. So much fun on a naughty, naughty (but very game) pony.

I was hoping to be able to hunt Gabe this season, but that hasn't quite panned out the way I'd hoped.

Natalie at Retired Racehorse Today posted this video (along with a few others) and I watched it a couple of times with goose bumps of thrills breaking out on my skin, my heart racing and my legs aching to be on a horse riding with that pack! I admit, I am a bit of a horseback adrenalin junkie...and this is my drug of choice. I need a fix!



This is video of the Scarteen Hunters in Ireland...ooohhh...FUN!! They say if you want a truly thrilling hunt, find an Irish pack. No fear.

I spent way too much time watching YouTube videos of foxhunts and all it managed to do was make me want to go hunting even more badly! Most of the videos I watched are of hunts in Ireland and England. One was of a pack of bloodhounds that track human "quarry" instead of fox, since that country outlawed hunting an actual fox. Still, too much fun! I totally live in the wrong country.

Frozen

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago I was called a "fair weather rider." By my own mother. I don't remember why or what prompted the comment, but it's one of those things that has stuck with me all these years because that's the last thing I ever thought I'd be.

I've never considered myself a fair weather rider. I'd get out there and ride in the rain, the snow, the fog, the cold, the middle of winter in the middle of the night under a full moon...any time, any where. If there was time to ride, the homework and chores done, I was on my horse. And I'd make fun of friends who wouldn't ride unless the skies were blue, the temperature moderate and the bugs at a minimum. Most of us were "all weather" riders, but a few, not so much.

But, I find that the older I get, the less likely I am to bundle up and ride when that thermometer drops below 20. I just don't want to. I remember how much I LOVE riding in the snow, and the crisp, brisk air smacking my cheeks, reddening my nose and start thinking about pulling on silk long underwear, breeches, a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, sweatshirt, coat, gloves, hat, two pairs of socks, ear muffs...and it just seems like way too much effort.

Then I remember cold thighs, wind-induced tears frozen to my cheeks, numb fingers, frozen snot and feet that feel like they are going to shatter into a million frozen shards when you hit the ground on the dismount after being in the saddle for an hour or so.

And I skip it. I look out to the pasture and see Gabe gallivanting around in the snow, so happy and full of energy and boisterousness that I really, really want to get out there and ride and laugh.

But I don't want to freeze my ass off doing it, either.

There, I said it. I'm approaching "fair weather rider" status. Yikes! I hope this doesn't become a downward slide for me and I find myself only willing to ride when the weather is perfect. I never wanted to be one of "those riders."

I like riding in the rain. I LOVE riding in the fog and mist. Even the heat is tolerable.

But the cold. I just can't justify the bitter, biting, frigid, horrible, soul-sucking cold.

Hurry up spring! I need you!

And my soul soars

For the first time in nearly two months the planets aligned, the mud cooperated and the sun gleamed golden in an azure sky and I was able to ride.

Oh, the feeling of pure joy attained after so long an absence, even with the silly boy antics tossed at me by the big gray guy. Emotionally and mentally I can always tell when I've gone too long without riding. I feel down in the dumps, like something in my life is missing and the weight of the world on my shoulders. One ride, good or not so good, is all it takes to lift me up again, to remind my soul that yes, I can soar with eagles when I climb astride my horse.

I only rode for about 45 minutes after lungeing the big goof ball for about 20 minutes. He performed several airs above ground, shimmied, ducked, bucked and twisted in the air, both on the line and with me in the saddle. Which, in an oddly demented way, was quite exhilarating to ride. I think I even whooped and laughed a few times as he was getting the ants out of his pants. Which I wouldn't have done if I hadn't been able to stick to the saddle and landed face-first in the frozen mud instead. I'm sure it would have been far less exciting if I had to wipe the mud off my face and catch my horse after such silliness on his part.

Life is good again. I'm ready for spring, longer days and grooming copious amounts of shedding hair from my fuzzy critters.

A video of the beasties enjoying the snow last weekend...that leap and spin performed by Gabe? Yeah, pretty sure I rode one eerily similar last night. Chief's lookin' pretty darn spry for a 25-year-old arthritic dude isn't he?

Sorry about the dang black speck in the video...there is a speck of something in the housing of my camera...a non-removable housing. I have to send it in to have it removed and I just haven't had the extra $$ laying around to get it done. :(

Winter blahs

Oh, here we go again, the delightful period when all I can manage to write about is:
1. The early dark
2. The unending mud and
3. My inability to ride often because of 1 and 2.

Frustration sets in quickly and I begin to question more often, wondering if I really am a crazy person for wanting to keep my horses at home where I have no indoor arena and am constantly at the mercy of the weather.

Then, the ground freezes during the weekend, the sun comes out, the horses aren't plastered with mud and I can ride in the brisk, bright sun on a snorting, prancing, full-of-vim-and-vigor horse.

And life is good again.

Until the ground thaws, the horses take mud baths and I'm slogging through muck in the cold dark while cursing the winter solstice, frozen fingers and mud-caked boots.

But the hay shed is full, the horses are fuzzy and the tank heaters working. I'll get through another miserable winter, endlessly craving those seemingly scarce days when I can ride, finding contentment in simply burying my face in the warm, fuzzy neck of Gabe while he slobbers through his warm evening meal, dribbling some of it down my neck or across my back as he returns my affection with sticky, wet horse kisses.

Fast and slow

It can be interesting riding two horses who are polar opposites.

Gabe is big, long-legged and graceful, but he's slow and tends to be a bit on the lazy side. He'd rather amble along than put forth any more effort than is absolutely required and there are rides when I have to push, push, push until I'm ready to fall off from exhaustion.

Calypso is short, compact and built like a bulldozer. But she's a much more forward mover and is willing to go go go until she falls over from exhaustion.

Calypso is in some ways a more difficult ride than Gabe. Not because she's a bad mare, but because I spend a good portion of the ride reminding her to SLOW DOWN and fighting with her desire to go faster, faster, faster. She has head-in-the-air-itis and gets quick, rushy and on her forehand fast. It doesn't help that she's already built with an upright shoulder, upright pasterns and is naturally built downhill. I totally understand why she gets rushy and why she tends to travel with her nose brushing the sky but I don't like it. Not one bit. It makes for a horrible ride and is not any good at all on her back and joints.

If I can get that issue solved with her she'll be pretty darn near ideal for anyone who wants to ride her.

It's an on and off thing with her, too. Some days she drops her neck and goes slow without much reminding. Those are the best rides on her and fortunately they are becoming much more frequent than they once were. Making progress, slowly but surely.

Last night's ride, not such a great ride. Head in the air, rush rush rush, quick mincing little steps, a jackhammer bareback ride in which I spent the entire time asking her to JUST SLOW DOWN DAMMIT. Yay. I'm SORE this morning.

It's during those rides that she responds when she feels like it and will just as soon keep blowing through the aids than listen to them. I can give her a series of half halts and she may respond to one of them. Her halt is good. Sit on your pockets, hold your abs tight, stop all body movement and quit following with your hands. It's even better if you combine the aids with a low "whoa." And, she stops.

But I can't get her to connect the halt aids to half halts and SLOW THE FREAK DOWN requests. She'll give five or six good, easy strides, then is back to head in the air rushing.

There are days when I'm sorely tempted to put a curb or a Kimberwicke on her just to get her attention, then go back to the D-ring snaffle she's in now. I don't know what to do. I'm not at all a big proponent of bitting harsher just because you can't properly train a horse to slow the heck down. I'm a firm believer that all good, well-trained horses should be able to go well in a snaffle...curbs are for fine-tuning and advanced movements, not for making better brakes. But there are days when I completely understand why rushy, fast horses are put into harsher and harsher bits and I really question why I haven't with her.

I think I'm going to put her in the side-reins and spend some time longeing her in them to try to help her figure it out without having to worry about a rider up there. We'll see what happens.