Something happened to me the other day

that has NEVER happened before.

I went in a tack shop and didn't see anything I wanted.

Granted, it WAS Coastal--but still--not a single thing.

My tack collection has reached a zenith where I have good quality equipment in about every area I would need it.  It's taken me 10 years...but, I'm pretty happy with the gear I have now.

I have a lovely HDR Rivella jump saddle and Exselle show bridle with two sets of nice reins, one extra long, and a beautiful merino sheepskin show pad (you know, in case I ever decide to ride that way again);

The Jim Taylor reiner;

My small shop El Dorado training saddle that I like & that fits Chevy;

A nice little Lazy L by Larry Coats barrel saddle hardly used from 2007;

Two complete, nice leather loose ring snaffle bridles that girls go in, each with awesome weighted Buckaroo Leather split reins, one pair 1", other pair 1/2" (turns out good quality reins are one of my "things");

A Martin sidepull (which I never use);

A gorgeous black Guitron kangaroo bosal and mane hair mecates;

Two good wool pads, one Reinsman, one Classic Equine, and one Pro Choice pad;

About 10 nice snaffles I never use, and all kinds of other misc tack of somewhat lesser quality than above (but still nice).

I hardly ever sell good quality things--because I could, in most cases, never afford to replace them.  But, I guess it's time to sell some stuff.  I need the money.  First on the chopping block:  The JT reiner.  Phooo.

Horses are horses--treat 'em that way.

I just read a heartbreaking article about the death of 2012 Arabian Horse Breeder of the Year Sue Eves. 

http://readingeagle.com/news/article/top-horse-breeder-from-north-heidelberg-township-kicked-to-death-by-horse-authorities-say

I don't usually comment on things that I don't have the full backstory on, but this article REALLY struck me. This long-time equestrian was literally "kicked to death" by one of her own horses. From the article: "Marinaccio [a friend of the deceased] said Eves would not have blamed the horses for her death.

"It's just something horses do," Marinaccio said. "She teaches you that right away. "Horses just do things. I got bitten one time. That's something horses do. They don't do it maliciously. They just do it. She would never, ever blame the horse." "

Oh HELL no. Yes, they absolutely CAN and WILL bite/kick/etc maliciously! They will not call you in the hospital after they put you there to say they're sorry! This is why I am so anal retentive about my horses knowing I'M at the top of the food chain--not them. They know I could eat them at any time...but I choose not to. Today. (Adapted from the brilliant Mugwump--because she can say it so much more eloquently than I!)

Part of me just doesn't understand how this could happen--assuming I'm making factual assumptions, of course.  I understand HOW it happened.  But I don't understand how this could happen.  As an experienced horsewoman...surely she understood discipline is necessary?...

I remember one day before we moved to Wyoming, my parents came to visit me at the barn.  Chev was a huge 4 year old dragging me all over the place and I had to get pretty hard on her.  I could tell from her facial expression that my Ma was pained watching my poor pony get whacked with a lead rope.  I, however, at 1/10th her size, did not feel bad.  It's important that she "respects" me (side note: Gosh, do I hate that term!  Talk about overused phrases in the horse world).  I'm not unfair--I only strongly enforce when she's ignoring my polite requests.  I'd much rather do everything with a light touch on the leadrope, but that's up to her.

I've now spent over 20 years of my life around horses.  I'll always be indebted to the trainers and instructors who have helped me along the way.  I took 10+ years of bimonthly or weekly lessons (and if I could afford them, I'd sure as heck take 10 years more!).  I've spent a lot of time watching horses interacting with each other, with people and under saddle.  I read EVERYTHING.  I tried to take it all with a grain of salt.  I know I don't know anything.  But I DO know it's important to be the top spot in the pecking order when it comes to animals that could seriously injure or kill you without even trying.

Horses can and will literally kill you. Horses are not people. Treat them like horses.

Holy.  Moly.

It's time to start this 'ere blog up again.

We've been cooling our heels for the last two years through several moves (some horse only, the last, all of us).  The past two years have been long and sad, occasionally light and happy.  All the emotions I needed in a whole lifetime.  My thyroid rebelled big time this time and tried to kill me.  Half my hair fell out.  My very dear childhood friend, one of my two best friends, died unexpectedly in September 2013.  And my beautiful 7 year old indoor only rescue kitty who I'd had for 5 wonderful years crashed and burned with unexplainable acute kidney failure, and a week of intensive care and IV fluids at the hospital couldn't fix him.  Then my remaining kitty ("The Golden Child") went into what appeared to be deep depression and almost died also.  We couldn't find anything medically wrong with her, but she kept going downhill.  There was a lot about those years I just wanted to forget.

But I'm starting again.  The horses, the kitty and I now live in the lovely Columbia Gorge on a little piece of land with an old farm house, a shop and a two stall barn.  There have been challenges, but we're all here. 

The thing I've never been very good at is just being content with this moment.  The sun is out, the horses are swatting flies, the kitty is in a square of sun.  We're doing okay.  We're doing okay.

The girls

are doing well!

Chev's gained at least 75 pounds in three weeks...and Tiny's lost a little, but she was hog fat when we moved in--and on stall rest.

She is not terribly thrilled about being tied to a post.

What beautiful, sunny weather we have had in the PNW lately!  The girls got their feet done, and I got a sunburn.

I wish you and yours all the best.  Summer's in no time at all.

A dear friend of mine

in Wyoming pointed out how I am not doing a very good job keeping up on this blog.

To be honest, it's been hard.

Chevelle has had a very rough winter and "lost a little weight" is a gross understatement.  I don't even recognize my horse when I look at her.  Teeth, deworming, and other things all seem fine according not just to my paranoid self but two of the vets at work.  I'll be pulling blood on her next week...just to be safe.  Personality wise, she's her same old self.

When I look at her, it makes me want to cry.

This is when she looked like last summer after her return to Oregon:

And this is what she looked like a month and a half ago.

I have been more or less in shock about it.  I have had this horse since she was a bouncing two-year-old, and I haven't known her to lose a pound.  She hated the old barn she and Tiny were at (which was pretty nice, even, and certainly not cheap!), and despite pouring calories into her, she just kept losing weight.  She also stopped eating on me.

Now, at the new place, which she has only been at for two-and-a-half weeks, she's already starting to look better...but it can't come soon enough.

Chev at the new place as I got in my car last night

Meanwhile, Tiny is doing fine post trying to slice her front foot off with her own rear hoof.  She's wrapped and healing well.  And has bell boots on all the time.  I think she might have even grown a little.

Come in from their private pasture

So, I think things are looking up.  I am impatient to have my fat, shiny horse back, but at least I have my happy horse back.  Here's what she looked like just a couple of days after moving:

Grr...Tiny, get lost.

And, Tiny is still as sweet as ever.  And...her mane has grown back a little.

Acre of pasture to herself...still manages to get poop on her face.

So...we'll wait and see.

Leaving already?

We have been

cooling our jets all winter.

The girls have been stabled at a private place with tons of mud.  Tiny has been stalled most of the winter with strange lamenesses.  I now have an almost full set of xrays on her, which show no evidence of anything alarming.  She's now moving wonderfully.  Chev has been fine, lost a little weight over her first Oregon winter outside in the rain (despite her ridiculously expensive waterproof blankets).  They're both heading to a lovely full care barn at the end of the month where they'll share a mud-free acre pasture with a double-wide shelter.

I have been in a working more-than-full-time funk.  I get up before the sun rises, work all day, head to the barn, check on the girls, turn them out on grass, clean, water, feed, restock, put them up and head home after dark.  It's been, frankly, exhausting.

But, change is coming. 

And change is something we all need.

2 in one day!! Is she back?

So a friend of mine came out to see the horses the other day.

He's really interested in them, but doesn't know much about them yet.

Like most people who are just starting to work with an animal, there are some residual fear issues to overcome.

I think fear (for us) has a lot to do with the unknown.  We are afraid of horses not because of what they're doing at the moment, but what they're capable of doing at any moment with seemingly little provocation.

I had him lunge both the horses--Chev on the line and Tiny in the round pen.  I think it can be helpful to realize that they do respond in a predictable manner (most of the time).  And confidence can be built on the knowledge that they really are (mostly!) pretty easy to read.

I am a very nervous, high strung, worried person.  My stomach churns in new situations.  My nerves often get the better of me.

I was the kind of kid that couldn't even call and order a pizza because my anxiety about talking to a stranger on the phone was too high.

Ironically, about all I've done for work these last few years is talk to people I don't know on the phone, often in emergency medical situations.  Irony!  At any rate, I can adapt.  Very quickly, sometimes.

I think this hyper-sensitivity is an asset around horses.  I grew up with jumpy, unpredictable horses (Arabians, but who's keeping track anyway?) that would spin and bolt at the drop of a hat (or the buzz of a fly...or the appearance of a shadow...etc, etc ad infinitum).  I sympathized with them.  I, too, was a scaredy-cat afraid of everything.

I got really good at anticipating.

I could feel a spook in a horse way before they were going to bolt (often "wayyyy before" gave me a few seconds lead time).  I worked well with them.  I became the calm, confident one out of necessity.  We understood each other.

So I guess the point is, over the years I've developed a very calm way around horses.  And as a result, I have some really, really laid back horses that look to me for support in strange situations.

Tiny was a great example the other day.

I had the chiropractor out to see if anything could be done structurally to improve her way of going (there could--she was an absolute mess).  To do this, he had to take hold of the lead rope.

Literally no one has handled her but me in almost three months.  And before that, no one had really handled her at all.  She bonded fast and hard.  Now she's tough to get rid of (ha, ha).

She was pretty confused when I stepped back, and kept looking over  like, "Hello?  Hello?  Is this okay with you?  Should this be okay with ME?"

Anyway, it's sort of flattering when an animal acts that way.  But the ultimate goal is to have a sane, happy, confident horse in any situation.  We give them support and tools to feel secure.

So consistency is really the key here.  For my friend, it will take time to learn that horses are, for the most part, predictable animals.  That doesn't mean we should forget that they are potentially dangerous, whether that be intentional or not!  But I think there's a lot of trust that forms there in that daily relationship of predictable handling.

Horses are great mirrors of a person.

Certainly not the first time I've heard this said, but the best I've ever heard it said, comes from Mr. Brannaman.

"Your horse is a mirror to your soul.  Sometimes you might not like what you see…sometimes you will.”