High Mountain Horse

Change!

2011-08-13T08:06:00.000-06:00

Dear friends and readers,

Please note that although I will no longer be continuing to post on High Mountain Horse, I'm still writing (and riding!) and look forward to sharing my new adventures with you. You can find me at GinGetz.com. I look forward to seeing you there.

Warmly,
Gin

The last of the backyard ponies

2011-01-04T20:26:00.002-07:00

I chose to geld my beautifully bred Arabian stallion so that no one would be pointing a blaming finger at me.

So much talk now a days about the death of the horse industry as we know it. The small time breeder has been put to blame in more than one publication. The big time breeder is still off the hook. We’re still letting them go. We’re still letting them breed the same names over and over, monotoning the colors of the horse world, saturating us with the same names and lines until we see them all intertwined and ultra related.

Where is diversity?
Where are the horses for you and me?
Or are there only meant to be the elite left riding?

I see it as the end of the back yard ponies. The rural world is changing, shrinking, going farther away, and less are going there. There are fewer folks relying on horses, owning horses, growing up with horses.

The very industry meant to support horses are helping to kill the hopes of those of us who just want a horse - not a $25,000 cutting horse prospect named Doc Peppy Bueno O’Lena from Texas.

Here’s the truth, harsh as it sounds, humble as it makes me seem: Some of us don’t NEED those horses. Some of us prefer other breeds, lesser names, the “mutts” and the horses that don’t all claim the same darned name as their sire or dam. Diversity is essential! Both in horse and in rider. Or have we forgotten?

Riding and horses are becoming elite. Let’s not encourage this elitism and discourage the responsible but smaller (oh my, but yes, perhaps lesser quality) breeder. Furthermore, I don’t know if the responsible breeder of a few horses a year is the one we should be pointing our finger at when you and I both know the large outfits keep hundreds of broodmares and produce factory “ranch colts.” But… they have known names and bloodlines so that’s all ok? I don’t think so.

Where does the problem really lie? Breeders? Maybe, but I don’t think that’s it. A shrinking industry? Hmmmm….

Tom's Barefoot Horse Account, Part Two

2010-12-08T10:27:00.003-07:00

Part Two of Going Barefoot by Tom Muller

The horses’ hooves were trimmed regularly, usually every three to four weeks, depending on foot condition and growth. Tools in use were just a good knife, a rasp and an S-shaped finer rasp to contour the hooves edges. The wall was rasped down over the whole surface in a first step. As this was done quite often (not a lot of hoof material was lost from walking actually), it was not necessary to take off too much, just a few millimetres in most cases.

Then the sole was cut with a very sharp hoof knife. Here less was more as well. If you took off too much the foot became too sensitive and you could see small haemorrhages in the sole, which could easily bring your horse down for a couple of weeks. As a general rule you could say that we cut about two millimetres below the level of the hoof wall, cutting deeper towards the frog. The frog itself was never cut, unless some parts were hanging loose.

As a last step the wall was slightly rounded with the S-shaped rasp, then the hooves were oiled. Oiling was imperative, especially during the dry season. Hooves would become very brittle and small parts of the wall could break out/off, in which case this part was rounded with a knife immediately. I had to trim a few horses’ feet that were so hard I had to put them overnight in an improvised water basin. I could not get any horn off the sole with my knife. During the rainy season all this changed to the opposite, when the horses were sloshing through water all the time.

Now I am no farrier, nor a hoof specialist, I was just an old fashioned horse trooper who had to keep his mount in perfect condition for service. When I had been promoted to officer there were a few things that I would check all the time on inspections and during operations. Weapons you never had a problem with, because they were the life insurance of each trooper, but so was his mount. Especially troopers who passed selection and joined the unit because of the reputation but not because of the love for horses, had to be looked after. Points that needed regular controlling were the horse’s feet and the back (including the saddle, blankets or pads and the girth/cincha).

I can only put down my experiences over the years and how we kept our mounts operational. A few points should be mentioned because to me, they seem very important. The type of horse used for this kind of barefoot “work” is imperative. You need a good working type horse, not too big with a naturally good hoof. The material in the horses paddock should consist of the same material it walks regularly. Now this might be difficult, but what I mean is the following: we operated on sand, so half the paddock was filled with sand; we operated on rocky ground, so we used these rocks to fill the other half of the paddock with this material. It was funny how some horsey and very knowledgeable people from all over the world would be surprised to see our horses rest in the rocky part, three legging it under one of the big Acacia trees.

Regular light trimming, rather than doing things the hard way every eight weeks was the key to success, at least in our case.

There are so many things I could still talk about, not just going barefoot, maybe if you people are interested, I’ll write some more about my horse experiences.

Tom, thank you for sharing. This is great. Informative, interesting, and inspiring. I for one would like to hear more. Friends and readers, please write me at LostTrailRanch@gmail.com if you’d like to send a comment to Tom, or if you too would like to read more.

Thanks again,

Gin

Barefoot horses, a fascinating first hand account

2010-12-06T11:54:00.005-07:00

Hello friends and readers.

I’m not “back.” In fact, I never left. But that’s another story I have no intention of boring you with at this point. What brought me out of my hibernation was a story I wanted to share with you coming from a new friend in Germany. Tom Muller and his wife live in the German Alps with their horses, hounds and goats in what seems like a place as remote and beautiful as where my family and I are living. Funny how something so far away can seem so close…

Anyway, Tom wrote recently and briefly shared with me his personal experiences working with barefoot horses. I was fascinated – and hooked – and asked him if he wouldn’t mind writing his story to share with you. I believe many of you (Rio in BC for starters!) will find his story as interesting – and informative – as I did.

The first part of his story follows. Thank you, Tom, for sharing this with us! We look forward to reading more.

Going Barefoot, by Tom Muller

Also noted as the use of unshod horses by the former Mounted Anti Poaching Unit in Namibia.

The Mounted Anti Poaching Unit of the Department of Nature Conservation in former South-West-Africa used the horses mobility and bush savvy of both horse and trooper to combat Elephant and Rhino poaching in the North of the war torn country in the 1980’s. Traditionally mounted patrols were always conducted by the game rangers of the Etosha National Park, the former Chief Ranger being the commanding officer of the South African Defense Forces Mounted Infantry Unit. A special unit was formed to combat organized poaching.

The terrain the unit operated in was mainly flat Savanna, with mountains in the West. Sandy plains often covered with lots of small rocks reached to the steep mountains. The rainy season (summer) was very hot and humid with temperatures above the 40°C mark, while during the dry season (winter) daytime temperatures would climb to a pleasant 30°C while the nights could bring frost and temperatures well below 0°C. The altitude was well over 1000 meters above sea level.

The duration of horse patrols could vary from one to six weeks. The longest patrol lasted 12 weeks. MAPU did control areas with high concentrations of game, would conduct follow up operations, control local villages, gather intelligence and conduct combined operations with the Army and Police. Depending on the type of ops conducted, the horses would be on the move for 6 to 12 hours a day, with troopers mounted and leading their horses alternately. Weight was kept at a minimum. The trooper, with a maximum of 15-20 kg’s of equipment including rifle, ammunition, rations, radio, water and pellets for the horse. Modified McClellan saddles were used and found very satisfactory. Snaffle bits and no curb bits were used.

Now comes the most important part. The mounts! Remounts were bought at farms from the Otjiwarongo region. They were mainly Boer horses with a certain amount of Arab blood (the higher the better). They stood about 14 ½ to 15 hands high and were raised on farms with a lot of mountains and rocky ground. When between 4 and 8 years old they came to MAPU and were trained by the unit. Mares and stallions were bought alike, stallions were castrated by the units vet. Horses that were raised like that had certain advantages that were invaluable. They had bush savvy and knew how to deal with predators, poisonous snakes, and changing weather. They knew how to move and negotiate rough country and flooded rivers. They were tough, hardy and reliable. Most important, they did have very tough hooves adapted to the country they were working in. Black hooves were tougher than white hooves, although a fair amount of horses did have white hooves and never went lame. Two horses shared a paddock of half sand and rocks. Keeping them on the same ground they were supposed to work on, was one of the essential things to keep their hooves tough but not brittle. Big Acacia trees gave the necessary shade and shelter. Feed troughs were put on a concrete slab under one of the trees.

That concludes Part 1. We look forward to Tom sharing his next installment with us!

Thank you, Tom.

Please send comments to losttrailranch@gmail.com. All messages referring to this and related articles will be forwarded to Tom.

Moving onward and upward...

2010-04-06T20:24:00.004-06:00

First foal of the season – born in lower ground.

Moving onward and upward…

Life is nothing if not an adventure, I once read.

I, for one, am ready for a new adventure! Perhaps, you ask, outfitting was not enough? Well, it was plenty fun. But my husband has done it for thirty years. He’s had enough. Do you blame him? He didn’t want to ride up the same trail one more time with a pack string and a line of riders following behind him, no matter how spectacular I still find that trail to be. Fair enough. What I find remarkable is his willingness to change, and in this case, it’s a mighty big change!

Horses, I remind him. I have to work with horses. And so, we will continue to do so. Just in a different location, and for a very different means...

On one hand here, we’ve become too comfortable. A bit of “been there, done that,” combined with years of building and setting up our home and ranch so nicely that now we feel a bit sinful living so well at such a young age (can I still call 43 young?).

On the other hand, it could never be comfortable enough. As in, I lost horses due to the altitude and soil bacterium. And not just any horse, like a good old horse that had a good long life. No, I lost foals. Foaling is the highlight of my year. How can I live where I can’t have foals?

And so we pack out bags, and our brand new (new to us, at least) horse trailer and head north!

North? Yes, way north! It’s cold up there, someone told me. Well guess what? It’s cold here in Colorado, if you live at 10,000 feet elevation! I understand where we’re going up there already has dry ground. Here we’re still tucked in under two feet of packed winter snow. Today didn’t even rise up to 30 degrees and the snow fell horizontally. So if you’re worried about our heading to a cold climate, well, I think we can handle the cold.

And so our adventures continue. In fact, I think they’re only just beginning. Every day is a new beginning, remember? We’re off to begin a great journey of which the horse will continue to be a part, or perhaps even a greater focus. Just you wait! Yes, I’m so very excited!

So much to do to make it happen. So much to learn once we begin. For now, no time to sit around and write about it. It’s time to begin it!

Leap and the net appears!

For now, I’m still weaving that net… but don’t be gone too long; I’ll be back soon to share the adventures with you.

Stay tuned for a link to our new site…

At winter's end

2010-03-27T10:47:00.002-06:00

Elsewhere, your thoughts, your pasture, your warm air may be turning to spring. Your trees may be swelling, budding, in bloom, or already leafing out. Your horses may have already shed, feet trimmed, and now are getting in shape for the season ahead.

Here our world remains white. Winter remains. I reflect back upon post from earlier this winter, originally posted on the High Mountain Muse site.

I know spring is coming, though it may be harder to see here. Our mare, Tres, the first of the season due to foal, has been led off the mountain into caring hands where we anticipate a new life, a healthy colt, soon, so very soon…

In the meanwhile, I share this with you about the world from which she just descended, the world in which we still remain.

The horses’ coats are thick and heavy. Shaggy, fuzzy horses. Wild beats to look at. Even their winter coats do not keep the cold from penetrating their skins, chilling them deep within. Frost builds up on their eyelashes and at the base of their tail. Small opaque icicles form around their muzzles.

I wonder if they know this cold spell will not last but a day or two. Temperatures will warm. Mornings will return to around zero. A noticeable difference from twenty below zero, as we have this morning.

In the mornings the air is as still as the ice. Sometimes I think you can almost see the frozen water in the air.

In the afternoons, the wind blows strong and violent as the sun slides behind the slope of Ute Ridge. It is early, not even 4 o’clock as the sun silently slips away for the day, the signal which warns us to prepare for nighttime. I finish my outside chores as the thermometer’s figures drop before your eyes if you had nothing better to do than watch. Keeping busy keeps you warm.

The horses huddle in the wind. A mass of many, all with their rear ends to the wind. From one another, from the position of their hearty yet so fine and delicate bodies, they find simple protection from the elements. They remain out in the open. I wonder why they don’t seek the shelter of the sheds. Deep inside, they are still animals of the plains. They are still wild as that wind. More so in the winter, when they are allowed to be here, forced to be here.

Wild, or so very domesticated, as they have been for thousands of years, our companions, our partners, our beasts of burden, of transport, of war. They have changed the life of man. They have certainly changed my life.

Who says horses can not tell time? They are as punctual as I am. Usually more so. They watch in the direction from where they expect me to arrive, anticipating their next meal that they know will be… soon, so soon, never soon enough. Like so many sun dials if I were the sun. I suppose my presence, that which brings promise of hay, is nearly as welcome as the rising of the sun.

We feed heavy. Calories are heat. An apparent conversion. Extra hay and a concentrated pelleted feed. They endure, heads down, eyes not meeting with mine. Just surviving. They will eat. This will pass. They will make it through.

Only my little stallion seems to suffer. Born in California and raised in a protected stall, he seems to find this all so wrong. I think at times he is right. His coat is as thick as those born here, those who accept the cold blasts and biting winds without visible concern. It is an expected and tolerable part of life for them. As if they shrug their shoulders and acknowledge that which they can not change.

The value of the wild

2010-03-20T10:01:00.004-06:00

We are blessed to live adjacent to the Weminuche Wilderness. Yes, that’s Wilderness with a capital W. A designated location, almost a half a million acres of what we otherwise may find a more productive use for. There is little value in peace and solitude. Can you place a price tag on “wild?” What is the value of the wild, except something deep and dark within us all? Something we often prefer to overlook.

Out here, out this far, there are fewer willing to find this place, find that space within themselves. As outfitters, we see that business is less and less in the back country. Far away is even further. Being out of touch is out of mind. Uncomfortable is not a chosen state. So fewer come. Beyond the trailheads easy to the masses to access, there is a reduction of use, especially in use beyond a short day’s hike.

Why should we care? I once received the response, “Gee, great, more for me.” That’s not the answer I hoped to hear.

Why aren’t we out there enjoying the wild more? Why don’t we care? Have we forgotten what it feels like, and what it can do for us deep down inside, and what it really means in the big picture?
Us back country users/enjoyers are getting greyer, and the younger generations aren’t going out there. Why not? If we can blame someone, do we blame ourselves, the parents and elders, who don’t make the time to take the kids on a pack trip, a camping weekend, or even a long Sunday hike? If they aren’t given the chance to be out there, how will they learn to appreciate the wild? How will they ever know how incredible it feels, smells, sounds, looks? There are some things that can not be replaced by the TV, the Game Boy, and Instant Messenger. Are we teaching our kids to sit and listen to stories, to walk in nature, to stop and listen and look and feel the beauty of the world around them? Is it too late?

Years ago, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to take small groups of kids from a summer camp out on pack trips. I truly believe each and every child who participated was touched in a way that would effect them forever – touched by nature, by wildlife, by the responsibility of caring for their horse and in turn, trusting the horse to care for them, by the camaraderie of such simple but true friendships that are built around camp fires and out gathering horses in the early morning dew. I wish more kids could have this experience. Children’s camp like that is usually limited in its scope and available only to an “elite few,” but as Forrest says, at least we had the chance to open this world up to those few.

Much of my outfitting work now is day rides with people who have never been on horse, or at least, never taught how to be on a horse. I am given the opportunity to share this with my guests, and then take them out to show them something even more: the mountains and trails and wild places all around us. Still, every time I take riders out, I am so excited when I return and tell Bob all about how wonderful this person did, how I watched him or her do so well with their horse, what a beautiful time I know they had, and most important, how special a day I was able to provide for them, what a world out there they got to experience that they didn’t know existed before that ride, or at least forgot, and needed this simple time in the saddle out there to remember. And yet, still, they remained so close to the comfort of the ranch, the road, the cabins. It is hard to venture far.

Less and less people know what it feels like. Being out in the wild just does something for a person. We touch the wild, and something wild within us stirs.

You know the old saying of “there is nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of horse.” That’s a lot of it. But there’s more. There is nothing like waking in the morning to the crisp mountain air, and listening to the cow elk call her calf as you sit on the hillside and sip your coffee, to make you think about what really matters in this world. There is nothing like arriving at camp after a long day of hiking or in the saddle, and feel so at home, having “earned” your place relaxing by the campfire, to remind you of the simple pleasures in life. There’s nothing like seeing the stars out there, so far away, when you step away from the heat of the fire to feel your true place in this very big picture.

Nature is so important. And if we don’t use it, we could lose it. We will lose a part of ourselves if we forget or never know what it feels like. And we’ll risk losing the wild places. Will we then lose the wild part within us?

Man seems to feel that everything needs a purpose. If the purpose of the wilds is no longer valued for the irreplaceable goodness it provides for our body, mind and soul, then Man will probably put it to another use. Yes, our trails will be the first to go (we already have an ongoing struggle to keep them maintained). But then the wild places themselves may go – be sold off, sectioned off, a “better” use may be found.

I’m on my high horse here once again. OK, enough.

originally published February 2009 at highmountainmuse.com

Some thoughts on learning horse talk

2010-03-13T16:34:00.009-07:00

And where do we go from here?

Tom Dorrance is often quoted as having said, “Listen to the horse. Try to find out what the horse is trying to tell you.”

But I’d like to know, how do we know what the horse is telling us until we learn to speak their language? I suppose it is easier for those born into the world of horses. That’s a great place to begin. However, for those who were not, those that sought horses on their own, and even (oh my!) not until adulthood, learning the language is more difficult. Just like learning a second language, it is of course possible, but how much easier when we are raised in a bi-lingual household!

That, my friend, is what makes a good teacher. One who can point out not only what the horse is saying, for those of us uncertain of the language, but also explain the language to us. Translate, if you please. And in time, we thus can learn to understand what the horse is saying.

It's not a matter of whispering. It's just learning to talk the horse's language. Our goal is to learn the language.

As Wendy Murdoch points out in her book, “Simplify Your Riding” (copyright 2004 by Wendy Murdoch), “The adage ‘the horse is your teacher’ is only useful if you understand what the horse is teaching. It is difficult to ‘let the horse teach you’ if you don’t know what the lesson is.”

I’m also pretty interested in Wendy’s point of view on “modern methods” of teaching in which the student/teacher/horse interact in a positive manner to achieve positive results, as opposed to “traditional methods of teaching people how to ride (which) include repetition, exhaustion, negative reinforcement, and domination…Yelling and screaming at students only drives them further into the undesirable pattern because when stressed we simply react, we don’t learn.”

I’d like to learn. I’ll choose my teachers accordingly.

Likewise, when I’m here to teach, I am learning to be a better teacher using the positive reinforcement, striving to increase both knowledge and confidence in my riders, and hopefully enjoying the process together!

Bill Dorrance stated with great importance in a special addition to his book, “True Horsemanship Through Feel” (copyright 2007 and 1999 by Bill Dorrance and Leslie Desmond), “Horsemanship through feel is handed down from one friend to another.”

I’m looking for that friend. A good teacher should be that friend, or at least, assume the role of “friend” when working with you, teaching you the horses’ language that he or she may already have figured out (or, more than likely, been taught) pretty well.

Finding that teacher, or friend, is not as easy as I had hoped...

I intend to always be learning, to always be open to new ideas, and by golly, I’ll be one lucky lady if I can keep up with working with my horses long enough to accomplish half the goals I hope to achieve in terms of horsemanship.

I will never live long enough to do it all, master all, and certainly not know it all. I know of no one who has lived that long. What I can do is enjoy learning and continue trying. What more can we each ask for?

Time to get off my high horse…

I end with a quote I read recently, though I do not know its source:

"If you always do what you always did, you'll always get what you always got."

Why do we go there?

2010-03-06T11:26:00.002-07:00

Why do we go there?
Out there with our horses?

I was giving some thought to this question, considering the feeling of being out there at camp with our horses in the high country. I lost myself in the reverie of sitting in the warm sun, my back against a large, smooth rock with a book in hand as my horses graze contentedly in the tall grass around me at the end of a long day in the saddle. Together, dreamily, we watch the shadow of the sun slowly falling behind the mountain, inching its way across the valley towards us.

It is far away now, that picture, as our world is white and frozen, our horses still shaggy, and morning temperatures still sinking below zero. But the feeling is very close. It is inside me, something I cherish, something I will always have with me.

I’ve discussed the “how to” of horse camping quite often and in details here, but more important to me, I consider the “why.”

The “how” enables us. The “why” drives us.

That “why” is a clear picture to me. It is the picture of traversing a narrow cliff on a surefooted horse and descending the rocky slope into a lush green valley, my horse and I, worn and tired but elated to be there. We pause, look about to notice the elk scatter before us under the shadows of red tail hawk circling high above. Then my horse lowers his head to taste the high mountain grass, and I dig into my saddle bag to pull out a snack. We remain there a moment before moving on. We savor the mountain together.

“Why” is much more than a picture. “Why” is a feeling. It is the feeling of camaraderie, of connection with our horses. We remain with them, partners, a team. Out there, we don’t leave them behind, put them back in the barn or turn them out to pasture until we need them next. We stick together, work together, get tired together, rest together, stop and enjoy the view together. We face challenges together not so different than the knight in shining armor heading into battle on his trusty steed. There is the essential element of trust. Neither of us would be there if not for the other. Together, we can conquer. The mountain. Our fears.

We return a different team, together, closer, more compassionate, more efficient, clearer in our communication and understanding with and of each other. And don’t tell me the horse doesn’t see that view. And feel the fresh air and dewy grass and comfort of the woods at night and warmth of the sun in the early morning and the coolness of the clear mountain stream, and the gentleness of my cheek as I rest my head across the low of his bare back in the evening sun as he stands out in the open field, very much at home with our horse and human herd, together in these wild open mountains.

They feel it too. I’ve had my horses run jubilantly, kicking up their heels in an uncontained joy if allowed, when then know they are almost to “their” favorite camp.

For most of us, horses are no longer a means to an end, a mode of transportation. Those that still treat their horses that way get what they ask for.

The trip is but the excuse. An excuse to be with our horses in a more intimate environment than anything we can find or create back home, at the barn or in the arena. Being out there, together. It’s as much, perhaps more, about the relationship with horse than it is about the journey. The horse therefore becomes the journey, more so than the places we pass through and the camp we arrive at together.

That is why we go there. To be out there with them. Out there with our horses. Enjoying the mountain, enjoying our horses, building trust, learning a quiet communication, creating a camaraderie and building companionship.

And of course, all along the way out there we can share the view and the wideness of our hearts and minds as we stop and stare at it... together.

Pass it on

2010-02-27T12:03:00.002-07:00

I was not raised around horses. Then, I did not know anyone who was. Even fewer have that opportunity today.

Just as this did not deter me from finding and creating a life with horses, it also need not be the demise of the horse industry. Perhaps it is just time to readjust our way of looking at the horse world.

If the numbers are fewer for those of us who live and work with horses, perhaps our responsibility for sharing our knowledge and experience is now greater. We can reach more people, teach more people, and share our life – and horses – with more, especially the younger generation who just might get the same “horse crazy” bug that many of us found ourselves with.

In fact, the sharing of our horse understanding, passions and skills need not be limited to the young. There are plenty of excellent and dedicated horsepersons – both professionals and enthusiasts – that were not “exposed” to horses until later in life. But they would never have turned to the world of horses if they never had the opportunity, the simple introduction.

That’s our job. It should be the job of all us horsemen and women to be not only ambassadors of the sport, but representatives for the horse. All we need to do is open the window to this world a little bit and let the fresh breeze flow through.

It is no longer easy. For most, horses are not readily accessible, just down the road, and part of the extended family. Demographics show our society as a whole is now further removed from the rural lifestyle – and the ensuing knowledge and experience with horses that this could allow. Horses are no longer a way of life, or even a part of life, for most families. Two generations ago, many folks still had or knew families living and working on farms with horses. With each generation, these numbers dwindle. Thus the opportunities for even the extended family and friends to “get to know” horses – say, the young suburban family coming for the weekend to visit the grandfolks who are still managing the old farm – are fewer and fewer.

But not gone. The opportunities are still there. We may just have to work a little harder to find them. And for those of us with horses, working with horses, we may just have to work a little harder to share them.

Now, I don’t want to share my horses, per say. They are not only my business and my work partners, but they are a part of my family. But what I can do is share my knowledge, share my experiences, and help pass on the passion I have for my horses, even if it means taking a friend out to the pasture to just walk by and talk to the horses, or a child out to groom and learn to pick a hoof.

It is up to those of us who still do live and work with horses to share our knowledge and pass it on. Our responsibility to teach, to share, to pass on the skills, the traditions, the ethics, manners, dedication and hard work. As an outfitter, horses have also been a part of my job. At times I am as awkward charging for my services and lesson as I often feel charging for cabin rentals when I feel like folks are here as my guests. But horses aren’t free, and they sure aren’t cheap. Feed, supplements, vet bills, shoeing expenses, transportation, insurance, tack and tools, etc., etc., etc. So yes, like it or not, sometime we do have to charge… it is a practicality we can not avoid. But it is not one that should limit us in our ability to reach others, just a minor detail.

The largest burden here seems to fall on the grandparents. And for grandfolks with horses, I’ve been told, it is not such a tough part of the job! Probably more like of the best. Sharing horses with grandkids.

Well, I don’t have grandkids yet, but I do have a bunch of young nieces and nephews. These are my surrogate grandkids for now, and the focus of my “passing it on.”

We share and show what we can, when we can. Sometimes, here, with us, will be the child’s only opportunity to glimpse into another world and take a bite, and hopefully, as is with a small but important percentage, taste enough to be hooked, to get the horse fever.

It’s not just horses; it’s the whole rural lifestyle. Camping, campfires, baking bread, gathering eggs, shoveling manure. It’s a package deal, and few kids don’t enjoy at least parts of it. They may not choose to live it, but they can love it. They will always remember this, and for those lucky enough to have had the chance to be exposed to our lifestyle and our horses, the memories and skills and understanding will remain with them forever.

Take a kid riding. Take a friend riding. Have someone share in the chores, the care, the companionship. Bring a friend to a horse show, on a trail ride, to a lesson. It can no longer be about “me and my horse.” Perhaps it’s time we began to consider it is more about “us and our horses.” All of us. So, let’s share our passion and enthusiasm for horses and riding. Let’s pass it on.

Confidence and Knowledge

2010-02-20T06:55:00.006-07:00

We begin in ignorance. Without knowing how little we know, we have complete confidence. A good example of “ignorance is bliss.” A great place to be, but fragile, it does not last. Reality sets in.

We begin to learn. We start to see how little we know, how little control we have, how lost we are. We can get hurt, and perhaps we do. And something happens to that confidence. A dose of reality pops our bubble of bliss. We find ourselves feeling exposed, unprotected…. And scared.

Confidence, or lack there of, is something I deal with regularly in both my riders and myself. In my riders, I can asses their level of horsemanship often based on their confidence. The complete beginner will come to the riding experience full of excitement, and without fear. They have nothing to fear yet. One who has spent some time, unfortunately this can be just one bad ride, will come in fear. They have minimal knowledge, but a healthy dose of fear. Those who have spent plenty of time riding, and time studying the horse, return to self-assurance, though one at this level still must be warned of overconfidence – the false sense of knowing enough that can block us from realizing how much we still have to learn, or prevent us from being open to learning more. This is the "good enough, it works for me" syndrome. Then the highest levels of horsemen I observe, and strive to be like. I have a long ways to go. They come in a quiet, confident air of humility. They have an abundance of knowledge and understanding, but part of that knowledge is the fact that they know there is always more to learn.

So, how do we achieve confidence?

Let me tell you, I have to work on this one regularly in everything I do. I was not born with the comfortable ego of many. Mine is frail and wavering. For years, this bothered me. I felt inferior because of it. But what I have found was that this very trait, insecurity, is what is ultimately allowing me to grow into a good horseman.

The only way I have found one can overcome fear and insecurity is through knowledge. Confidence, and I don’t mean a false sense of over inflated ego, but a true sense of quiet understanding, comes from one thing: knowledge. The more knowledge we have, the more our fears and insecurities are replaced by facts. We learn to understand, and are able to act with positive assurance because we know what works and why.

Mind you, since the best horsemen I know are always learning and growing, we must remain with an open mind, and constantly adjust, grow, and expand this base of knowledge.

And the process of replacing fear with knowledge is an enjoyable journey. We can’t learn if we aren’t willing to try. What we can do is enjoy learning. It means being with our horse, growing with our horse, and growing in our hearts and minds.

We do learn by listening. (Likewise do we miss out when we don’t listen.) One great horseman said, “Listen to the horse. He’ll tell you when you find the right answer.” For those of us desperately seeking right answers but without direct human guidance (no mentor, teacher, trainer, etc.), the horse ultimately is our best educator, and yes, will be the one to let us know when we by chance stumble on the right way of doing things.

But how do we know where to begin, what to try first? What action to take to give the horse the chance of approval or disapproval, acceptance or suggestion or revision? We are not born with this knowledge. We must strive to ascertain and achieve.

I believe a good trainer, teacher or mentor would be the best first step. They have already a base of information to share. But be warned. We can not learn it all from one person. All we learn is their way. There are many other ways. Be open. Take what knowledge you can, what works for your and your horse then and there, and be willing to move on, to try new things, to listen to others. (This is, or should be, what the best of trainers and teacher have done.) No well rounded education comes from one book.

Without a trainer/teacher/mentor, as I have been, how do we learn? Where do we begin? Clinics are one possibility, but I have seen more damage done for the insecure (not uncommonly due in part to the rudeness of the auditors than anything else). Clinics are not for everyone. If you choose this route, know what you are getting into. Auditors are a pet peeve of mine, folks who in the safety of the stands feel they are in a position to throw insults and advice at will. No one, and I mean no one, paid to learn from one not brave enough to even participate. Learn to ignore these folks and see them for what they are.

For me, books, articles and DVDs have been the best teacher. They are available even way up here on my mountain. Who do I watch and read? Everyone! Every book, magazine and DVD I can afford each year written by any horseperson of any discipline on any level. If I can not find at least one thing to learn from each, chances are I am not really watching/listening/reading.

Everyone, every experience, and every horse present an opportunity for learning if our minds are open enough to absorb. It is only when we look at life with a closed mind (“I already know that…”) that we miss the obvious lessons.

So, I strive to learn more with every encounter, every ride, every book and every DVD. And with each small piece, every tiny tidbit of information that I absorb, I find a little trace of insecurity is magically replaced with an equal amount of confidence.

If I do not seek knowledge, my insecurities have every right to remain. But the equation is simple. Knowledge brings confidence. A real, solid true confidence, like a foundation that can forever be build upon.

I read recently something like this:

We must do something we have never done before
To get where we have never been before

We must try new methods if we wish to achieve new results.

I have yet to find a horseman who could not learn more.

An open mind is essential for the growth of the rider, the understanding of the horse, the relation of the student/teacher, and an appreciation for the fullness and beauty of life.

Sitting

2010-02-13T11:11:00.001-07:00

I’m lucky to have the opportunity to work with beginner riders. Each new person is a new opportunity for me to improve not only my teaching methods, but my own riding skills and horsemanship. Not to mention my communication skills with my riders, which has by necessity improved tremendously over the years. At least as far as lessons are concerned. I suppose I am not the only horseman to feel I communicate better with the four leggeds than the two.

I’m learning one of the most important things I can teach – and one I overlooked for years, considering it unnecessary and taking for granted that it would just be done.

Sitting.

Sounds simple, doesn’t it?

I have found it to be one of most complicated lessons to teach, to put into words. And yet, one of the most essential, basic skills, and the perfect starting point for any rider.

Once we learn to sit, we can learn to ride.
When we sit well, we can enjoy the ride, and the horse can too.

A proper seat is taught from day one in English lessons, at least it was back in the day (we don’t need to count how many days ago) when I was taking English lessons. But for the Western rider, is it not considered until more advanced levels, and sometimes I question, if at all.

Why not?
I’m learning to bring it back to the beginning, and introducing “the seat” to my beginner riders, to help them sit comfortably and solidly on the horse from day one.

Trouble tends to be with the more experienced riders. As you’ve all seen, often the more time someone has spent riding, the more set in their ways they may be, or the more convinced they are of their way being the best way. Of course. It is easier to stick to the old way than having to learn something completely new.

Sitting does not need to be new. A good seat seems obvious, or at least, when you have it right, is hugely apparent. Likewise, when you have it wrong…

We start with breathing. How many beginner riders (or advanced riders, facing any challenge –from riding along a steep drop-off to concentrating on a new skill) hold their breath?

So we start by breathing. We remind the rider to breath. And then, with each breath, the air is taken in deeper – no longer shallow and tight in the chest, but deeper, fuller, down into the diaphragm. You can see the rider up there on the horse. When that first deep breath is taken in and then slowly released out, somehow, suddenly, they are now sitting deeper on the horse.

And yes, a deeper seat is a safer seat, a more comfortable seat, for both rider and horse.

I love to see this instant transformation. Out on trail rides, I can remind the rider of the same when I notice them perched forward in tension, already half way out of the saddle. All it would take is one quick spook of the horse to send that rider flying out and down. We remind them to breath (yes, we all need to be reminded to breath sometimes!) and there they go, settling back in, solidly in the saddle.

For myself, I must remind myself regularly as well. In any tense situation - and for any trail rider, these can come suddenly, without notice, around any corner – my common reaction is to tighten up, rise out of the saddle, lean slightly forward, and hold my breath. I catch myself doing this regularly, and remind myself to sit back. In a tense situation, the last thing my horse needs is to feel that obvious tension in me. Better for him (and therefore, for me), if I lower my energy, breath more deeply, and sit back in the saddle in times of stress. This not only calms me down, but it calms my horse down. It allows him more confidence in my leadership when he needs it most.

So, we start to learn to sit by breathing. Then we learn to move with the horse, sitting soundly with the motion below us. Again, this is commonly taught in English riding, but the Western rider is usually not taught at all, or else taught an exaggerated form of movement, an over abundance of “life” in the rider, with the rider pumping the horse beneath him to encourage each step. This translates to a great deal of constant rocking and movement in the saddle. After a couple hours – or even all day – in the saddle – that would be not only tiring for the rider, but exhausting for the horse.

Give the horse a break. Consider his back, his comfort. Become conscious of your movements. There is a pretty solid line you will find between the over-abundant rocking form of riding, and that which keeps the rider tensely perched atop the saddle, never feeling the movement below. I strive to find and ride that line, and encourage my riders to do the same.

I believe this starts with breathing. If we settle solidly into the saddle, or better yet for learning, directly on to the horses back, we can learn to feel his movements. We can learn our most solid position and see how little motion it takes from us to allow the horses freedom of movement. Consider the leverage involved with the rider atop the horse. Due to the fact that we rise up several feet from the middle of the horses back, each of our movements creates a need for shifting weight, compensation, on the part of the horse.

When we begin to see how little motion we need to allow the horse the freedom of his own movements, we begin to allow ourselves to gently shift with the horse, and allow our horse to move with greater ease. We need not encourage and pump his every movement beneath our hips with an exaggeration of movement and effort that the horse then has to adjust his own movements to compensate for the movement of the rider. Instead, we strive to find harmony with horse and his movements. We allow the horse to move, and flow with his movements. The more subtle our movements become, the more the horse can move with ease and grace and fluidity.

Several teachers suggest “playing” horse to learn such feelings. This is a great lesson to try in order to learn first hand what the horse is feeling. Start by “being” the horse. Kneel on the floor on your hands and knees, and have a friend play “rider.” Start by feeling that person gently shift with your movements. Now, ask the “rider” to tighten, tense up, and lean forward. Then ask the “rider” to exaggerate her movements, bring that abundance of life in their seat. Feel the tension and stress this creates. Pretty annoying and uncomfortable, isn’t it?

This motion is great for teaching, both horse and rider, the initial feel. But once that feel is learned, let it go, stop nagging, and allow the horse to move on his own. Movement is his job, not something I have to constantly work at by “driving” him with my own movements. Instead, I consider getting out of his way, sitting solidly, and helping the horse do the job he is most capable of doing with the least amount of interference from me as the rider.

Size is not important – I have seen excellent riders be very tall, very wide, and very small. The key is moving your body, whatever the size and shape, with horse, in harmony with the horse. Start by sitting, then by breathing. Then consider sinking in with open hips onto the horses back. Next I urge the rider to sit tall, be bigger with every breath, remaining centered. I suggest they feel one string coming up from the top and back of their spine, lifting and straightening them. Then they feel a second string dropping from their ears, through their shoulders, down past their elbow, their hips, their heels, and dropping all the way to the ground, to the solid substance beneath them.

This is the beginning of sitting, of what grounds the rider in the saddle, keeps them straight, gives them contact with and feel for the horse. This is what I try to explain to my beginner riders. Likewise, this is what I work on with myself every ride, every time.

The ethics of breeding

2010-02-06T16:08:00.002-07:00

Without wasting time softening the facts and candy coating the bitter pill, I’m just going to go out and say it outright: The horse market is in bad shape. Sales are down. Registrations are down. Prices are plummeting. Think what you want about horse slaughter, it has had an impact on the horse market, along with the recessive economy and the decreasing and aging horse community.

There, I said it.

Now, what am I going to do about it?

I am a small time horse breeder. We buy, train and sell, and breed and raise our own. We love horses and have enjoyed the opportunity to “share” our talents and our stock.

Now we find ourselves having a hard time trying to sell good, solid and sound pleasure/trail horses for nearly give-away prices. We waste our time. Or rather, our time is wasted…

I’m picky. I don’t want our horses going to anything but a good home. I want them to be loved. Yes, I do. Otherwise, I’d just assume keep the horse in my care and wait to find a really good home, a really good relationship for that horse. They are like children. We care for them and work with them to teach them, and then send them on their way. We want the best for them. I imagine many horse trainers and traders feel the same.

Last years colts are sold, and I am thrilled with their new and future homes. Now we have three on the way this summer. Then what? Time to think this one through. Think it through now, before letting my mares run with the stallion again (because bred mares are easier to keep, and allowing the stud to run with the mares keeps him happier, too).

Lots to think about. I consider the horse market, the horse industry, and the management of my own herd. I don’t have easy answers. What I want and what I should do may not be the same thing here.

Really now, do I keep my stallion at stud just for the fun of it (and indeed he his a "fun" riding horse) because I don’t know if I should use him for breeding this season. Or next. How long will it take for the horse market to bounce back? Or will it?

I don’t see it happening right away. I don’t see it happening any time soon. Do I continue to add to the over abundance of horses out there, and possibly have one I raised and trained be one of those “unwanted?” Small time breeder that I am, I’d rather blame the big guys and wonder why the ‘ranch horse’ farms are still breeding 20, 50, 100 mares every year when I’m questioning my responsibility of breeding just a handful.

But you know, they say if you want a change, start with yourself. So as a small breeder, what do I do? Stop breeding?

Selfishly, I love it. I don’t do it for the money; I do it for my love of the horses. I once read, “A year without a foal is a very bad year…” I agree.

But what about my responsibility to the horses and the industry? Do I allow my stallion to breed, even just one? Or do I (gulp) have him gelded and make life easier?

I’ve never been into “easy.” I always love a challenge, which is why I purchased the stud in the first place. But I also consider responsibility. And I just don’t know.

Perhaps I can keep him out of trouble for a few years until the market picks up… if it picks up…

Oh, what to do???

Mid winter thoughts on horsemanship

2010-01-30T07:20:00.004-07:00

We find ourselves now in the deepest hour of winter, the farthest point from riding seasons, the one passed, the one anticipated.

Though thoughts of horses never cease. Likewise the care is a steady constant, despite the weather, the season, the schedule, the moods.

In this season, we are reminded that there is so much more to horses than riding. We see only an incomplete picture if we merely look at our horses and our horsemanship in terms of time riding. What we do on the ground matters – and I’m referring to much more than “groundwork” here. Or could we extend the term “groundwork” to include all interactions between horse and human? Perhaps in doing so, we learn to look at each simple interaction with new interest and value – each as an opportunity to discover and grow, for both horse and human.

Often it is through our littlest interactions that we both learn and teach the most. Think about it… what happens between us and our horse(s) during times of feeding, grooming, trimming, leading, handling, care of body and mind – both of which may need extra tending to during the slow and seemingly meaningless cold days of standing around waiting which winter often is. For us, in every interaction, there presents opportunities of gaining knowledge and growing through short and simple lessons of understanding horse behavior, subtle communication, body language, herd psychology, manners, boundaries, respect of human, love of human. Yes, I always seek this latter part as well. Love not because I have treats in my pocket (which I do not, nor do I consider the want of treats to be love) but because I am their fair but firm leader, caregiver, direction giver, provider. A gentle rub on their neck rewards them greater than a pocket full of goodies. At least, this is what I strive for…

Still, this is perhaps less a time of hands on learning as it is one of simple observation. The end result, if we are conscious and consistent, is of equal growth. Our minds must grow as our bodies do; skills of our mind must increase as do skills of our muscles. The two must balance each other. Once again, we strive for balance. How often that word is a part of our horsemanship language.

Last week, I received a note from my 10-year old niece, Alex, describing an opportunity she and her group of Girl Scouts recently had with horses. I had the honor of observing this young lady handle some of my horses almost a year ago, especially in helping me care for my broodmare, Tres, and her newborn, Artemis. I watched as Alex could with a most natural confidence and ease lead the mare through the snow with baby following close behind. I watched as my mare, who I have spent innumerable hours observing and understanding, followed Alex with lightness, interest and a respectful distance. Tres was soft, easy, observant and patient. An interesting combination of regard, sensativity and care.

Alex writes of her observation during her experience last week how the horses seemed comfortable with her: “I don't exactly know why. Maybe cuz I'm not afraid of them?? The world may never know.”

Many of us think we might know, and I suppose Alex does to a degree as well. First of all, because she’s right: she is not afraid. Second, because she also is not overwhelmingly bossy and aggressive. Only a fine balance of caring and confident. Something that at even at her young age comes quiet naturally to her, something that many are still struggling with. It is beautiful to see. The horses see it. They are not easily fooled.

I responded, “You know, I think with horses, they have a good ability to sense people. You can’t fake it with a horse. They see only what is real before them. And what they are most comfortable with in humans seems to be an interesting balance of confidence, understanding, and leadership (without any aggression or bossiness). They don’t need words like people, and they are not snuggly like puppies (though they can learn to tolerate this). They read body language, and seek being around a fair, strong, clear personality. They look for people they can be safe with, without being frightened, or feeling they have to be the leaders. Some humans are terribly wimpy, yes, perhaps because of fear, and that’s hard on a horse too. Horses are not aggressive. They prefer not to lead. You have that all quite naturally. For those of us who love horses, it’s beautiful to see.”

Alex shared this insight as well, which I thought many of us can well relate to: “Horses, to me, are kinda like detectors for emotions. When you're around them, they get scared if you are, or happy if you are.”

We will not become better horsemen simply by riding alone. Nor of course, would improve if we only did the thinking – growth requires a balance of both thinking and doing. Winter is the time for me to think: to observe, contemplate, and read and learn the theory, the theory I will then put into practice when the snow clears and I find dry dirt beneath the horses hooves. Many months away.

Camp meals and menu

2010-01-23T06:47:00.003-07:00

Now is the heart of winter. We are snowed in. The horses plow through three feet of snow, or remain confined to their trenches and packed trails. More and more time is spent within the comfort of their sheds. The days of running free and wild have been snowed over for a while. Their winter has begun; they slow down and retreat in turn, accepting the powerful confines of the season.

With all this snow, it is challenging, perhaps unnatural, for me to turn my mind back to summer, back to warmer days, green grass, and open mountain passes. But reminiscence of summer and the ensuing pack trips is both a fond memory and a positive aspiration.

So, return with me, or look ahead, now to the high mountain, back country horse pack trip. We’re out there with our horses; the horses are hobbled or picketed and contentedly grazing. Camp is set, ready for a comfortable night stay. The saddles are covered, a small camp fire is built, and water is hauled from the creek. Now, we turn our attention to feeding ourselves, to the camp meals and menus.

I’d like to share some our simple menus that we’ve served for guests on pack trips, or made just for ourselves when out at camp.

My rule of thumb is to keep food as simple as possible, but make sure we have plenty of it. Balanced meals, nutrition, liquid intake, simplicity of preparation, storing foods, keeping foods fresh – all of these are taken into consideration. Most important, we want a meal that tastes good. The point of the meal is to nourish and satisfy both body and soul.

Our outfitting business has chosen not to cater to those requiring four-star, gourmet meals. We’re wilderness outfitters. We ride horses, sleep in tents, and get dirty. Save the fanciest meals for back home or in some resort where someone else is doing the dishes. As long it is just the three of us doing the work together as a team, there are some things for which I draw the line. Preparing a meal that would require me to stay back at camp, spend my day cooking instead of being out there riding, is not an option. Me, I’d rather ride. And even after a long hard day in the saddle, I can pretty well guarantee a good, hearty campfire cooked meal that has yet to leave a guest dissatisfied.

Keeping it simple for me means a one-pot meal whenever possible. It means preparing a good deal of food ahead of time at home – probably not complete meals that have been cooked and frozen, but at least side dishes, accompaniments, or the better part of the preparations. You can scramble and season your eggs, chop your veggies, and grate your cheese - all well ahead of time, then store in a ziplock bag and freeze. All of this not only saves on cooking, but on clean up.

Keeping it simple means a good, hearty camp fare, and plenty of it. No one should go hungry. And keeping it simple means allowing yourself time to enjoy the company, the horses, the view, and the mountains. That, my friends, is why we’re out there.

Prepare at home well in advance. Make your menu. Make your list of ingredients. Get your ingredients together in the most efficient packaging. Freeze foods well in advance so that they remain frozen for longer.

Practice at home first. If you’re planning on using a camp stove, become familiar with its set up and operations. If it’s your first time cooking over a wood fire and hot coals, not charcoal briquettes (unless, of course, you choose to pack in a bag of briquettes, too?), build a fire pit in your back yard, or visit a designated camp site first to learn the ropes. Burnt food, or food left raw or doughy, is a bummer when you’re down right starved. If you’re planning on using a dutch oven, try it at home first. Learning when you’re tired and hungry is not recommended.

A few things I keep in mind when planning a menu:

1. Simplicity. I can’t state this one enough.
2. Variety and good taste. Might as well enjoy it, and we do.
3. Nutrition. The better you eat, the better you feel, and that is of upmost importance when your body is working as hard as it is packing in the high country. Consider well balanced, complete meals, with adequate fruits and vegetables, not just meat and potatoes. This is not the time and place to diet, though be sure you know any specific dietary needs or preferences for all folks you’ll be cooking for.
4. Hydration. This is a factor, perhaps more so in the high country, but for any intense physical activity, which horse camping is. Encourage beverages at every meal, and make sure there is always fresh, clean drinking water available to refill a cup or water bottle.
5. Quantity. Not only considering the quantity of people you’ll be cooking for, but making sure there is enough for all. Consider the caloric intake. Better to have to deal with left-overs and table scraps than to make anyone go hungry out there. Snack. Always have food available, be it at camp, or on the trail in your saddle bags, horn bags, or pockets.
6. Time. How long will you be out? How many days and how many meals will you need to plan? How long will you be able to safely provide fresh and frozen foods, and at what point would you be safer relying on canned, dehydrated or preserved?

When I am horse camping alone, my hands are full with setting up camp, caring for the horses, and riding all day long. For practical reasons, I keep the food as simple as possible. I have resorted to those instant “backpacker” meals in a bag where all I had to do was add hot water and wait. The packages were designed for two persons. I can eat the better part of the whole thing. No way would one of those have been enough for two persons. Adequate caloric intake is important. If there is one thing I need to work on for solitary eating habits, it’s trying to make sure I get enough.

When it is just our family of three I am cooking for at horse camp, I’m willing and able to take a little more time for preparing meals, and I am far better at allowing myself more time to sit down to enjoy the meal. We’ll sit around the camp fire long after our plates have been scraped clean, just enjoying the mountain and each others company.

When I am cooking for a group, I spend more time preparing, and less time kicking back. Cooking over the fire, which is the center of attention to any camp, I can still manage to enjoy the stories and conversations just the same. However, with a group, somehow, it always ends up being more prep, more cooking, more clean-up, more dishes, and just plain more work. Unless you have (or are) a designated camp cook who remains back at camp cooking, cleaning and tending to any stock left behind, remember my advice from the last post: If you are camping with a group, share the load. Enjoy it all together.

Here is a sample menu for a five day pack trip.

Day 1

Breakfast: Not provided

Lunch: To be prepared and packed at the Ranch before saddling up and heading out. Set out all the fixings for beef and bean burritos. Each person can make their own, wrap them up well in foil and pack them in a paper sack, along with a few homemade cookies and fresh fruit. Lunches will be packed on each individual’s riding horse.

Dinner: Cream of broccoli cheddar soup (the packaged soups made by Bear Creek are my favorites), steaks cooked over the fire, baked potatoes (pre-cooked, warmed in foil in hot coals), Caesar salad and fresh bread (made ahead of time, wrapped in foil and gently warmed over the coals). Chocolate cake (made ahead of time at home) for dessert.

Day 2

Breakfast: Scrambled eggs with ham and cheddar cheese (eggs can be stored scrambled, seasoned and frozen in ziplock bags, or carefully pack cardboard cartons and bring along the real thing), cinnamon rolls (made ahead, wrapped in foil, and gently warmed in a dutch oven or over hot coals), fresh melon.

Lunch: To be prepared and packed at base camp for consumption during the days ride. Sandwiches and snacks may include: pb&j, lunch meat or salami, jerky, cheese, crackers, fruit, cookies, chocolates.

Dinner: Black bean soup, chicken fajitas with fresh veggies (chopped and marinated back home), tortillas and/or cornbread (baked ahead). Peach cobbler or blueberry crisp (made with canned fruit and baked in a dutch oven at camp) for dessert.

Day 3

Breakfast: Green chili stew (made ahead and frozen), fried eggs, tortillas, canned fruit.

Lunch: To be prepared and packed at base camp for consumption during the days ride. Sandwiches and snacks may include: pb&j, lunch meat or salami, jerky, cheese, crackers, fruit, cookies, chocolates.

Dinner: Minestrone soup, Buffalo Burgers with all the fixings, potato chips, salad. Cheesecake w/fruit topping for dessert (made at camp with an instant boxed mix and canned fruit).

Day 4

Breakfast: Veggie and cheese omelet, spice cake (made ahead of time), bacon, canned fruit.

Lunch: To be prepared and packed at base camp for consumption during the days ride. Sandwiches and snacks may include: pb&j, lunch meat or salami, jerky, cheese, crackers, fruit, cookies, chocolates.

Dinner: Split pea soup, BBQ shredded pork (made ahead and frozen), cole slaw (chopped and prepared at camp), rolls (made ahead, wrapped in foil, and carefully warmed over hot coals. Blond brownies and bourbon balls (both made ahead) for dessert.

Day 5

Breakfast: Scrambled eggs, sausage gravy (easy to make at camp, though I have also made ahead and brought frozen), biscuits (the canned ones don’t do well in elevation, but any instant mix baked in a dutch over is a good bet), canned fruit.

Lunch: To be prepared and packed at camp for consumption during the trip back to the Ranch. Sandwiches and snacks may include: pb&j, lunch meat or salami, jerky, cheese, crackers, fruit, cookies, chocolates.

In addition/all days

Beverages: At each meal at camp, I boil up a pot of cowboy coffee and have a pot of water on for anyone wanting hot chocolate or tea. I also put out fixings for tang, Gatorade and/or lemonade. A little flavor to the water may encourage folks (especially kids) to drink more.

Snacks: I like to have a grab bag (usually a large plastic container) available for each person able to dig into at will in order to refill their pockets and saddle bags or munch on while at camp, which includes: crackers with cheese, trail mix, individually wrapped chocolates, jerky, dried fruit, fresh fruit, granola bars, hard candies, and my personal favorites, smokehouse almonds and peanut M&Ms.

The Camp Kitchen

2010-01-16T06:50:00.005-07:00

Cooking at camp.

For some, the best part of being “out there” is the food. It’s up there on my list, however the riding, nature and camaraderie with my family and horses still comes first. Then perhaps the food. Why? We eat the simplest of fare, and truly make a point to keep it all as effortless and unfussy as possible. But somehow, even the most modest of meals tastes so good…

Everything tastes better out there, sitting around a campfire, after a long day of riding. And old camp cook I once met told me her secret to camp cooking: ride them an hour longer. Exhaustion makes everything taste better.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, the elevation, or the feeling of contentment after a great day of riding. Maybe it’s the view, the fresh mountain air, the enjoyment of being out there with good friends or family, or the smell of the wafting wood smoke and fresh spruce bows. I think it is somehow a combination of all these things. Stirred together to make one wonderful, memorable – but simple – meal!

As you may have guessed by now, keeping it simple is my top priority. Just about anything tastes good out there, as long as we have plenty of it. I’m more likely to enjoy a elaborate feast and gourmet fixings when I’m home and well rested. Out there, fancy fare fine, but so is a pot of stew and tortillas. Unless we have had to cater to demanding guests, our trips are about the riding, and being out there. I’m fine saving the 4-star fare for nights back home. I guess we’re easy to please, but when it’s just the three of us at camp, we’re happy with any good hot rich meal on our lap, a sunset before us, the crackle of the fire, the snorting of contented horses grazing nearby, and the distant hum of the creek. What more could I ask for?

Being the camp cook, of course, has a large impact on my choices. I’m out there riding or working all day. I’m not a camp cook to sit around biding time before preparing the next meal, and waiting for the troops to come to the fire. When it’s time to eat, I’m as tired and hungry as the next person. But first, I make sure the horses are cared for. I can’t kick back and enjoy my meal unless I’m certain my stock is well cared for and enjoying their own meal.

So what is the secret to camp cooking if it’s not in fancy fare? For me, it all starts with preparations at home. The more I can do ahead of time, the less I have to out there, when I’d rather be riding or enjoying the view. Planning menus, packing in an organized fashion, making sure all the pots, pans and stuff I need for cooking is well arranged and easily accessible, keeping the kitchen easy to maintain, and even cooking meals ahead of time. As well as keeping the menu straightforward and uncomplicated, the camp kitchen should be kept simple, organized, clean and tidy. Laying it all out and organizing at home first is the place to start, not when you’re out in the mountains, cold and tired and hungry, it’s getting dark, and you don’t know what to do for dinner.

Gear.
A camp kitchen can be as minimal as a small pit campfire or single burner backpacker style propane stove. Or as elaborate as our aluminum pack saddle “instant” kitchen. Alone, or just the three of us for an over night or two, we’re happy with a log before the fire and a folding metal grate over the embers to cook on. For an extended stay or a client pack trip, we’ll string up a tarp and create a designated cooking area. The fancier and/or cold weather operations may opt for a wall tent with a wood stove, tables and chairs.

No matter what your wants and needs for the kitchen set up, your gear will often be the same. And organization of that gear is always a good idea. No sense in rummaging about camp in search of a spoon when that soup is boiling over. Keep it clean, close and organized. I like to use those travel toiletry organization bags. Mesh pockets to hold everything in place and make it easy for me to find things. A few of them will serve our needs. They can be hung from a tent or tree to keep everything easily accessible and in plain sight. Alone or for just a quick trip, I can fit all our gear in one medium sized bag. When heading out for an extended trip or with guests, I’ll take a few bags: one for instant cooking/kitchen needs, one for kitchen/camp clean up needs, one for personal clean up (handi wipes, hand sanitizer, sun block, TP, etc), and one for first aid. All can be hung and found around the designated camp kitchen

Following is a list of gear I make sure I include in our camp kitchen supplies:
___ Kitchen tarp and rope/string for hanging (optional)
___ Matches and fire starter (know the regulations for campfires in your area before heading out)
___ Trash bags (if you packed it in, pack it out!)
___ Kitchen utensils - knife, spoon, spatula, can opener, cutting board (look over your menu and make sure you have what it takes to prepare the food accordingly at camp)
___ Pots & pans
___ Coffee pot
___ Eating utensils - plates, bowls, cups, silverware for each
___ Dish cloths, soap, steel wool, paper towels, drying bag
___ Food, in accordance with pre-planned menu
___ Extra condiments, salt, cooking oil, tub margarine, ketchup, etc. (forgetting the cooking oil is about the worst…)
___ Water filter(s) and/or water purification system for use at camp
___ Extra water containers for boiled or filtered drinking water
___ Water buckets for getting water from creek
___ Camp shovel and lightweight ax (for preparing ground and wood for fire)
___ Lightweight campfire grill (if fires are permitted)
___ Pothook frame and hook for cooking over campfire (optional)
___ Camp stove, fuel bottle
___ Lightweight cord and string for use around kitchen (used for clothesline, hanging tarps or food bag, etc.)
___ Flashlights, camp lantern (optional)
___ Camp table, chairs and table cloth (optional)

Packing.

Once your menu is figured, your packing list prepared, and your gear gathered, then it’s time to pack. Pack ahead of time, so if food needs freezing, you’ll have plenty of time to get it frozen. Keep lists of last minute things that will need to be packed. I save packing the coolers for last. And if lists need to be revised, you will be able to check and double check.

Organize the gear, then the food according to dates and meals. Stick to your menu and keep track of the ingredients and gear you’ll need for that menu. Label everything. Wrap stuff well. I use newspaper, which can later be used for starting fire, or spare dish cloths, or plastic bags, which will then serve as our trash bags, for wrapping fragile items. Careful of shaking and breaking. Remember, this stuff is going on a horse… Food is packed into cardboard boxes and a cooler or two. (Extra precautions may be necessary for bear-proof food containers in busy bear country.) Boxes are then duct-taped closed then labelled. Take extra care in packing items that are fragile, breakable if dropped or shaken, and items that may rattle. All items must be safe and secure, as each pack should be sound and silent for the well being of the pack horse (and packer). Consider packing important items in trash bags or ziplock bags that can be re-used at camp, in order to keep these items water proof

To help keep food fresh and cold, consider freezing ahead of time. This can work great for complete meals prepared ahead of time, and for scrambled eggs ready to cook. Pack cold items well, wrapped in newspaper and labeled. Pack your cooler practically: food for the first meal is on top, and work your way down to the last items you’ll need. Leaving that cooler open to fish around for food wastes precious cold time. To keep food cold at camp for extended trips, consider using a nearby cold creek or snow if available near camp. If not, make sure you keep your cooler in the shade, and consider covering the cooler with a wet rag. The evaporation from the rag helps keeps the cooler colder. Don’t forget too, you may not need a cooler at all. Consider packing backpackers meals, dehydrated or canned foods. Chances are you’ll survive quite well without gourmet fresh fare for a day or two.

Procedure.

At camp, when it comes to cooking, just like when it comes to eating, everyone should pitch in. Even if you’d rather cook alone (to keep from crowding the kitchen with too many cooks), other folks can pitch in and help out by gathering fire wood, stoking the fire, chopping vegetables, hauling water – or even making sure the horses are well tended to so this cook can focus on the people food.

Forget something? Get creative or get over it. You can always make due. I remember the story of one trip where the group stayed an extra day or two, ran out of planned meals, and made due just fine with peanut butter and hot chocolate. They returned home just thrilled to have had the chance to be out there even longer than planned. (Of course, everyone back home was more than a little worried…)

I can’t say we like to rough it that much. But truth is, I always pack way more food than we could possibly consume, just in case. And if we ever decide to – by choice or necessity – stay out an extra day, I know we’ll always find plenty to make do.

Clean up.

Ideally, everyone does their own. It's easy to keep track of your cups (you can label them for a crowd) so you're not stuck doing the dishes instead of doing better things... While cooking or eating, I put a big pot of water on the fire. For trips with guests and for recommended water purification procedures, even wash water should be boiled first. I can’t say I do this on solitary or family trips. Once heated and after the meal, the water is divided into two pots – one for washing, the other for rinsing. Use biodegradable soap. Wash water is dumped far away from the creek and far enough away from camp (even farther in busy bear country). Keep your creek or water source clean. Don’t wash or rinse in or near it. Extra dish towels or even a large mesh bag used for hanging dishes to dry, all come in handy to keep cleaned dishes clean. Food scraps should be kept to a minimum with proper planning. If you do end up with scraps, consider feeding them to your dog (that works for us!) or scraping plates into the fire. Feeding wildlife is obviously not encouraged.

Next week, I’ll share some our simple menus that we’ve served for guests on pack trips, or made just for ourselves when out at camp.

Flying on fields of snow

2010-01-09T06:32:00.003-07:00

Out on the field of white they run. They run because they can, because it feels good, because their legs and lungs were built to run, because our snow is not as deep as they and we anticipated. A shallow winter. The horses revel in the low snow. They move freely, unconfined to their packed trails and shelter of the barns. The pasture is as open world boundless to movement for them as it is in summer. And if for a moment they stop and paw, they will be rewarded with the tops of tufts of last years grass.

This is no place for a horse naturally; they would not survive on their own here, would have left long ago with the deer and the wiser of the elk that descended the mountain months ago. But we help as we can, with good food and open water. And they adjust. Their coats are thick and long; the curry comb does not penetrate to their skin, though is always a welcome touch as they stand with me out there in the long shadows of the afternoon sunlight, in the surprising warmth of a windless afternoon, and await their turn. They are shiny, all of them, from rolling in the snow. There is no dirt, no dust, no mud. Only snow.

For those born here, four of those out there now, playing in the vast expanse of white, it is all they know. For the others, they have been here long enough. I wonder if they can remember days before. Does the stallion recall the confinement of his little stall where he stood for years without direct contact with another horse excepting that from across a chain link fence? I watch him out there now, moving freely, nuzzling with his mares, romping with his eldest son, Tresjur, who is coming on three and already nearly a full hand taller than his sire. They play like brothers. I think of my husband and son and understand.

The horses will play because they can, because their long legs make light work of breaking through this low snow, because it feels good to move, because a part of them, somewhere deep inside, I wonder if it remembers what it may have felt like to just run wild and free across the plains, across the dessert, across the big wide open expanse. Do we forget the horses great need to move, unrestricted and unbound, even if just for a few minutes, with or without rider on back, to just fly, liberated and limitless, across a wide open expanse?

Watching them out their running free, soaring across the white hillside, veils of snow fluttering up at their heels as they race with one another, the young ones around the old mares, manes and tails waving in their currents of cold air, we remember the legend of Pegasus, and imagine from where the story was born. Our horses have wings; on horses we fly.

New Years Resolutions

2010-01-03T11:20:00.002-07:00

The start of a new year allows us time and encouragement (read: an excuse) to reflect upon the accomplishments, both large and small, of the past year; and to consider goals, both simple and lofty, for the year ahead. On one hand, I look at making New Years Resolutions as a trite tradition. On the other hand, I find it a missed opportunity if I pass by the occasion to reflect and review, as well as the chance to revel in hopes and aspirations.

We begin to look at the year ahead with dreams of what we would like to work on, within ourselves, and with our horses. With each horse, each lesson, each goal, each accomplishment, we evolve into a better horseman. And in turn, don’t we then evolve into a better person? We could remain stationary. What we learned yesterday is good enough. My guess is, if you’re reading this, that’s not your feeling either. Instead, more often than not, most of us strive for improvement and progress. We are not the same today as we were yesterday. Each new day is an opportunity to develop.

This development is all the more important to us because our horsemanship skills can be viewed as a clear reflection of who we are as a person. I don’t know about you, but I like to look back and see how much I have progressed with my horsemanship. The story reads like a personal growth gauge. The lessons the horses teach us, the lessons we learn interacting with horses, go far deeper than what we do in the saddle.

I allow myself the time to look where I am with each horse, and what I hope to accomplish this coming year. A review session, just me and my memories and imaginings. With each horse, there is anticipation for advancement. The greatest advancement will be, of course, somewhere inside me. I set realistic goals for each horse, each task. I look at each horse, and each goal, as an opportunity for my own growth and learning. Horsemanship does not simply represent physical tasks, but mental accomplishments every step of the way. And something great and mysterious, too, on which my words can only shed a pale light. It is this, I believe, this deeper meaning and relationship, that draws us to work with horses in the first place, and keeps us here, keeps us hooked, keeps us longing.

I begin this year by making a list of each horse, of what I hope to teach him or her, of what I need to work on within myself. It is a long list. Included are words like “patience,” “leadership,” “communication skills,” “increased knowledge,” “refinement,” “lightness.”

Each lesson is for both me and the horse. Each will teach me as I teach him or her. Every lesson is valuable, though we often fail to appreciate the value at first. Sometimes what we set out to accomplish, of course, will be far from what we achieve. The process of the lesson dictates what we ultimately learn.

All these plans, these lofty goals… and yet this year, I am willing to let them all go for the one thing that really matters: my commitment to my mares and finding a good safe place for them to foal, even if temporary, and a new ranch from which to continue our life with horses. Anything less than that is a compromise I am no longer willing to make, a selfish act based on attachment to the past, fear of moving forward, and personal comfort considered without the well being of my horses. The losses have been too great here.

That, my friends, is all I will resolve for my New Years Resolutions. The big move. That is more drastic, more time consuming, more costly, than any other I had considered. And yet… we will pull through, my horses, my family and I. And along the way, I somehow believe that if I remain with an open mind and open heart, the lessons I learn could be greater than any I ever have learned before.

So in all your time dwelling and contemplating and brewing over the New Years Resolutions you may consider for you and your horse this year, please remember too the big picture – the well being of the horse. Ultimately, what could be more important? What improvements can you make for him or her or them? Is it possible that a better life for them would also mean a better life for you?

The changes need not be as extreme as they will be for me and mine, but perhaps one small change to make their life just a little better…

An open mind, an open heart

2009-12-30T14:04:00.003-07:00

Not too long ago, I read that a true horseman loves horses. Not one breed of horses. Horses. All horses.

Can we doubt this to be so? We can have personal preferences, and we do, just as one dog owner may prefer a German Shepherd and another a Chihuahua. Is one better than the other? Of course not. We appreciate the differences in dogs as we do in horses. We find what works best for us, our lifestyle, our needs, our wants, and often times, where we are at, both physically and mentally.

With this in mind, as riders, we love to ride. Not just one way. For there is no one right way. Only our personal preferences. Once again, our riding reflects our needs, wants and interests. These may change, evolve. What’s right for me may not work for you, and visa versa. As an example, here: I live in the mountains and trail ride, teach and guide. Would I not be wasting my time and resources by remaining in the arena for hours at a time practicing side passes at different gates when there are infinite lessons to be learned out there on these trails that take me and my horses places the arena never could? Yet watch me and my horse attempt a Piaffe in an arena and you might laugh or cry. Don't worry. I might too.

There is no one right way, no one right practice, no one right breed. Though we as horsemen do have the responsibility to acknowledge wrong ways, as in, anything that might hurt or damage the horse or rider.

Otherwise, we keep our minds open. Open to other riders, at other levels, in other disciplines, from other backgrounds. We acknowledge our knowledge but do not claim it to be the only way.

Or if we do… why? What are we keeping our minds closed to? What are we denying? Why must we feel superior or inferior? As horsemen, do we need to judge our fellow horsemen? And when we do, why do we feel the need and the right to critique our fellow horse lover? Open mouths too easily can replace open minds, when a simple smile or gentle word of encouragement would probably be more than enough. Instead, too often, we hear horsemen pronounce their way as the only way, their path as the only path. The blindness is unfortunate, but the damage done to the recipient of these comments is probably even worse. Would we not be wiser to be silent and allow the other to learn and grow and gain confidence along with knowledge, all the while respecting the differences of the other person?

We expand our knowledge and enrich our life with horses, and in doing so open our minds, our hearts, and our lives.

I recommend reading the article, “Cowboy Dressage: An Evolution in Horsemanship” by Jack Brainard in the September/October 2009 issue of Eclectic Horseman. Here is a master horseman, at age 75, who shows more insight and wisdom because of and through his open mind than many half his age, with half his experience. To quote Mr. Brainard, “Horsemanship does not have to be a one-way staid method of training a horse. I think there is such a thing as creative development…”

May we learn from those wiser than us. But remember: the wisest often speak the softest. The old wisdom is often true: the loudest mouths have the least to say.

Be creative. Be constructive. Be our personal best, and do the best we can with our personal choices. And remember, the person riding next to you came from a very different place, and is headed in a very different direction. Tip your hat, and ride on in a positive way. We are all horsemen. We all share the goal of being the best rider and horse handler we can be. Our journeys are all different. May we therefore look upon our fellow horseman, whoever he or she may be, at whatever level, following whatever path, with kindness and encouragement. Is that such a crazy concept?

"Identification, please..."

2009-12-26T11:11:00.004-07:00

Who are you, as a horse person?

A question I had not considered before, now weighs heavy upon me.

Showing a horse for sale a few weeks ago, the buyer turned to my son who was standing with his horse nearby and asked him, “What kind of riding do you do?” My son looked at her blankly, not understanding the question. He rides. Period. He rides for work. It is his job, something he has had to do, has been expected of him since he was old enough to handle a horse himself. Probably before. At times he loves it, other times I am certain he hates it, but it is a part of who is and what he does. How could he define that to a woman he saw figured a horse and human in terms of disciplines. As in, “I do dressage.” Or, “I endurance race.” Or, “I rope.”

Riding for work. It is different. Our kind of work, outfitting and odd jobs with our horses in the back country. One horse must do many things. Likewise, must the rider. It is harder to define, to classify. We trail ride, we pack, we guide, we horse camp, we train, we teach, we ride to maintain trails, to get to our job in the Wilderness where we then live and work even more closely with our horses. Some days this may require a few dressage moves as we work our string of horses over and around fallen trees and mud pits and washed out trails and swollen rivers. Other days this may require roping or cutting as a pack horse pulls back, snaps the pigging string, and thinks back home is a better place to be. Other days still we may have to endurance race as we lead in our horses in the early morning hours, saddle up ten head, deliver a group of riders and their gear on a drop camp deep into the high country, and do not return home until well past dark.

What kind of riding do we do? Some days it may require all of the above, a little of each. Other days, none. Like now, as all I am able to do is feed my equine friends and family, talk to them, brush them, their thick, heavy and shiny snow coats as they quietly enjoy the simple attention in the warmth of mid day.

What kind of riding do you do? I believe she was expecting the answer to be one specific discipline, one easy and safe label of identification which would allow her to have put her classification of his riding on a neat and tidy shelf where she could comfortably understand it.

We need such boundaries in our lives. It is comforting. Knowledge we can understand, place and fit into a pre painted picture. It is like this for everything in our lives, not just “what kind of rider we are” or “what we do for a living” but in defining “who we are.” We all need to know. The unknown is not a safe place to be.

I make my living with my horses. I read recently that now only 1% of horse owners do. For me, this has been an important part of my identification. Why? Right or wrong, it has been the chosen genre, manner of categorization, the shelf of understanding whereby I could properly place a desciption and definition of my horsemanship, and my self. It has been my safe place. It was easy to grasp and understand and even explain. It was comfortable.

With a large, upcoming move in our near future, it is time to reconsider, recreate. We begin to start anew. Opportunities are not handed to us. We make them. What will we create this one to be?

Somehow holding on to the identification of “someone who works with their horses” is fundamental to who I am. It has been a part of my self definition for only 15 years, but it is something deep and essential to me, who I am, what I am, what I love. For my son, it has been a defining part of his life since he was three. For my husband, his entire adult life he was an outfitter. Even more, far more, a part of his entire life has been based upon working with horses. It has defined him. I find it remarkable he is willing to try something new. He has learned what I am only beginning to learn: he is not defined by what he owns or by his job. He is not defined even by a place. He defines himself, regardless of the opinions and expectations of others.

Being an “outfitter” has been an easy title. Not easy work, but a safe title I could understand, I could use to define and explain myself so others could understand me. As I give this up, I wonder what I will next create. What title will be I be able to use to allow others an understanding of what I do, and far more deeply, who I am? I suppose that is why we do need titles: to give an explanation for something much deeper than our job, our work, our career. It is a matter of self definition.

I seek the next title, the next chapter. I am re-defining my self. I will be what I create, with my husband and son, and horses. Change. It is frightening, but exciting. It is inevitable. A new world unfolds. A new definition. A new self.

“Identification, please…” we are asked. Fill in the blank for job occupation. If not "outfitter" and "guest ranch owner," then what?

I smile as I begin to paint the new picture. I like what I see unfolding.

Solstice

2009-12-21T06:41:00.004-07:00

Winter solstice. Winter begins. Cold and darkness begin. Time of heavy coats, for me, for my horses. We trudge in deep snow. I do not ride. I feed, and pet, and talk to them. It is their time off. Down time from a long, hard summer. We share the darkness. We recover, reflect, rest, rejuvenate. We will have to work again, to ride again, to run together up these high mountain trails. Later. For now, we are slow, dormant, tired. Summer is far behind, far ahead. We are here, now, cold and dark and I wonder if they get bored standing around waiting, do they need a job to do, a point and purpose, or do they revel in the nothingness that winter allows them? I look in their eyes, deep within. They will come to me, rest their big warm shaggy chin on my shoulder, in my arms. They will stand there in the swelling snow and follow me to another feeding, another day, in another storm. I believe they too are longing.

Where is the warmth of the sun, the green of the grass, long days and open trails? Where are the tourists now? They ask. I ask. We look around the cold dark air hanging heavy over our thick coats. We remember, we long. We sigh and the winter begins and passes. We can feel the growing grass beneath this deepinging snow.

Beginner's mind for a horseman

2009-12-19T05:43:00.005-07:00

How many times have you been at that point – in horsemanship or anything, for that matter – where you realize the more you learn, the more you don’t know… therefore the more you find you still need to learn? It is a snowball effect of sorts. On one hand, it is a frustrating place to be. Full of questions, self doubt, uncertainty. On the other hand, it is great, rewarding, exciting, because it reminds us of our progress and hope for betterment. We can see a difference, even if we don’t quite know what to do with it yet.

It is a paradox of learning, of life. How do you know how little you know until you start to really see? "In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few," wrote Shunryu Suzuki. A reminder to remain a beginner, always, and keep an open mind. If I claim to be an expert, my mind will close. I remember this every time I look around and feel lost. It is a start, and a better place to be than if I looked around and told myself (or someone else) that I knew it all.

Of course this applies to every aspect of our lives. However consider the impact of this notion on horses, horsemanship, and horse training. Imagine if we were always learning. Why can’t we be? There are no easy answers. There is no one right way. The best way is what works for us, and for our horses. And even that should be reviewed regularly updated as our knowledge and experience grow.

Drat. I wish there was one person who knew it all. I would like to study from him or her. Or read his or her book and feel confident that I had all the right answers, all the right moves, all the rights ways and means figured out. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be easy?

But no one person does know it all, though teachers can be found all over. We can learn something from everyone we meet, if we keep an open mind, even if our lesson is seeing what we do not want to do or be.

Everyone has at least a little bit of wisdom. Everyone. I think we are lucky when we find a teacher with a lot of wisdom. However, we need to remember that our teacher is not simply wiser. Only that he or she has more information relevant to our growth process then and there. Tomorrow may be different. Our needs may change. Our knowledge base may have grown, or we may find set backs. The same teacher tomorrow may not be able to provide us with the knowledge we need then. We must keep an open mind. We must not drink the Kool-Aid and assume one teacher has all the right answers. Keep an open mind. Always be open to learn, to grow, to expand, to be a better rider and horseman. Remember the Zen beginner’s mind…

I thought about this recently in view of The Old Way, versus The New Way, and many ways in between. Horsemen on all levels can have a way of certainty. Many will tell you their way is The Right Way. And those with less knowledge and experience will probably be the first to say this.

So, how do we look around and know what is right? One teacher told me, “The horse will tell you.” That is a perfect answer, however getting to that point is difficult when we don’t know how to get there. We make many mistakes. I suppose that is one way to learn. My most frequent way.

Consider next the question of tradition. The value of tradition, versus holding onto tradition when perhaps it is time to let go and move on. How do we know what is right? Simple observation balanced with a gut reaction may provide the answers.

Consider this tradition. The raising of ranch horses. Hundreds of them every year, all because of a good blood line, a good name, the same name. (And we wonder why the horse market is dropping? Here’s one more factor.) The mares are mostly untouched. Rounded up and driven into a squeeze shoot just to be de-wormed (yes, I know we’ve all had horses we would have liked to do that with). The colts are rounded up as yearlings, roped and branded – sometimes with many separate brands I suppose because the ranch has so many horses they need all these numbers and symbols to keep track. That’s about it for human touch. Then they are rounded up again as two-year-olds and “broken.” Ah, but a “new and improved” more kind and gentle way. It is rushed. There are many colts. We must be practical here and get the most results in the least amount of time. Invariably, the colt is petrified of the situation due to lack of previous positive human handling. Look at his huge wide eyes, quickened breath, sweating chest, and tight muscles. He or she will probably try to buck. “Let him buck,” we are told. It is the “respectful” thing to do. I wonder. Would the colt need to buck if he was not so scared? Would he be less scared if he (and his dam) had a little more gentle human handling before training started? Consider how much time must now be spent by the trainer just to get the colt calm, peaceful, accepting of the human handler. Let alone trained.

Now that we are learning, many are becoming more open to an even better way. Wouldn’t you be curious to see a study done on the difference between these ranch colts and the imprinted colts? Who is more likely to buck? Who is more willing to learn, eager to please, easy to train, and in general, a better partner?

Just one example. There are many. I look around, observe, question what I see. How else will I learn and grow?

Ah, but it is a tradition, they tell me. Therefore…therefore I am not supposed to question, but to look upon this way with reverence. Because it did work. And now? The old ways are not always the best ways. Learn from the past, I remind myself, and move toward the future.

The questions are never ending. I suppose that’s how it has to be. We always need to ask more questions, strive for more, seek improvement. Our lives are a balance of the foundation of knowledge and the desire for betterment of ourselves, our horses, our neighbors, our world.

I look at some of the old timers who keep an open mind. After all these years of doing something one way, they are still open to see and listen and learn. What an inspiration! I hope to always be willing and able to learn something from everyone I meet. And from every horse I work with. When I am old (no wise cracks here – I’m only 43…) I hope I will not be tired of learning and more content with keeping the ways I had learned. I hope to always strive towards a better way.
I consider myself old fashioned, in many respects. But there are some things worth changing. Slowly, I see myself progressing, but I still have so far to go. I hope I always will. Acceptance won’t get me closer. Questioning will.

With everything we do with our horses, we can look at it all anew and learn something. Not because it was done is it wrong, but because perhaps there is a even better way. For our horses’ sake, it is worth considering.

I sit back on my horse, look around at the awesome landscape before us, look down at his soft and wise eyes, and remind myself to strive for a beginners mind.

Baby, it's cold outside

2009-12-15T06:44:00.004-07:00

Come inside, little horse.
If I ask him, he will go. He will follow.

My little stallion, Flying Crow. What I wanted to do here was lead him through the kitchen, over by the wood stove, and have him pose before the Christmas tree. It was going to be the perfect photo op for this year’s Christmas card. Warm and cozy for a change. Our winter pictures always seem so cold and snowy.

He would have, too. But his feet were snow packed, icy, wet and slick. And after his first step off the rug onto the wood floor, his foot slipped. He would have gone, and I would have been fool enough to risk hurting him because I really wanted this picture. So we stopped here. I led him no further. My boys smiled and rolled their eyes at my attempts.

I remember my responsibility. I am amazed how he trusts me now. I do not want to destroy his faith in me. Lose his confidence for a photo op? Not worth it. I will remember this too at other times in other seasons, as we run through the mountains, up the trails, through the open meadows and across the creeks. I have a responsibility to lead. I have earned his respect. I chose to keep it. There may be times I need to push him into danger, and I will go with him, we will go together. I will lead, he will follow, he will trust.

Sure would have been a cute photo, though…

Of course, I’m also amazed that my husband let me try. The things they put up with because of our love of horses…

One good horse

2009-12-12T07:09:00.004-07:00

We all have heard such stories… stories of the one good horse, stories of that partner unlike any other. This was the horse that stuck by you through thick and thin; who brought you up to the winner’s circle, or safely down the steepest of slopes every time; who carried you home in the harshest of storms; who carried you farther along the trails and trials of life than any other; the one who led you where you never thought you could ride, or who you led away from his dam that very first time; or maybe the one who taught you to balance patience and kindness and softness and leadership. This was the one really special horse, the one in a million, at least for you; the one who stood by you, grew with you, allowed your weaknesses and forgave your faults, and loved you when at last you’d figure it all out just right.

I have not known that one good horse. In retrospection, I see parts of this “one horse” in all I have ridden, all I have intimately known and spent years working with. Or perhaps parts of me brought out, born and developed by each of these horses. In part, every horse has been, or has the opportunity to be, that one good horse for each of us. Perhaps, I wonder, it is up to each of us… What relationship do we choose to foster?

Berkley, who taught me a horse can be as much of a companion and personality as a human…
Apache, who taught me to race bareback and hold on tight around the curves in the road…
Jackson, who allowed to me ride into the herd, and sit back and let go as he’d cut out just the right one…
Ben, who showed me the way on the unknown trails and always knew just where to stop…
Tres, who allowed me to learn lightness, a new method, a new way, and a better life for all my horses…
Quattro, who loved to go and with a mutual trust would let him go, moving at his own rapid pace up the mountain in whatever direction I asked…
Flying Crow, who taught me to teach horses and teach myself in the language of the horse, with his infinite patience and kindness…

Yet with all these horses and more, with all these years living and working together, none have been “the one.” Yet. But all have been parts of the one great horse. And I feel very lucky for that.

Now, Tres is busy raising babies and managing the herd when I am not. Quattro is close to retirement. Crow, my dear little Crow, we have many years to work together still... Will he be the one? And will it really matter? We will both give all we can for each other. That is plenty to ask for. He will have plenty to teach me. He does most days. I suppose every horse does. As every person does, if I only take the time to listen.

So many have taught me so much and sill I have more to learn. Will I ever find one horse that is all these things for me? I think at times I cannot, for perhaps these lessons have already been taught, or new lessons are always right around the corner on every trail, in every stall in every barn. We move on, together or apart, to new lessons, new needs, new relationships, a new set of measures and emotions defining what makes that one good horse.

What about growing together? Yes… there is so much in that. What is it then? Ah… I believe they all are good. They all are so good, each and every one. It is not like choosing my husband. I am allowed many. How rich our lives are with horses!

I’m a late bloomer. It took me a while to find my husband. Perhaps it will take me longer to find that horse, that “one good horse.” A part of me believes, or maybe just hopes, that he is out there. The one. Just like with my husband and son. Another part of me believes it is like the people we meet, each one a special relationship, each one a unique individual with lessons to teach and stories to tell and a history and a future. Every relationship is what we make of it.

In every relationship, we have potential for awesome loves, lessons and partnerships. We keep our hearts open. The relationships I have now, the horses I have now, they are all together that “one” for me now. Who will be next? What lesson to I next need to learn?

It is different for each of us, as are all aspects of relationships. Goodness, however, that vague quality, remains the same within us all, within all horses, and throughout time. Although it is so hard to define, that is our measurement, our goal.

How do we know when we have that horse, that one "good" horse? How do we choose, or do they choose us? Will he come to us, or will we make him?

Perhaps we will make each other... good.

Trilogy of the trail

2009-12-07T20:31:00.004-07:00

The voice of the trail rider is spoken not in words but hoof beats even and smooth along a well worn trail. We speak softly. We do not scream. We are there for the silence, for little more than the sound of the wind through the trees and the powerful breath thrusting from the chest of our horse. We are there for the silence within our minds that finds this soothing yet exhilarating melody through riding, the unity of being together, being there, being present, at such an ease that allows us to so simply forget all those worries left far behind, long ago, if only at the trailhead.

We are there to listen more than to speak. Our voice is the unspoken words between horse and human and the wild world we roam through, if even just for this ride.

It is the trilogy of the trail that draws us: human, horse, and nature. Much more than the individual parts, it is the blend, the balance, the merging that happens when the three are together as one.

Trilogy of the trail. I think of this, of the three separate and unique elements uniting, and the voice that sings from… what is it? The land, the rider, the contented horse?

Listen... it is a harmony sung only in unison of the three. A quiet song, whispered only on the trail.

On fear, knowledge and comfort

2009-12-04T12:00:00.004-07:00

A good part of my job (there are many good parts) is and has been for the past 15 or so years: working with people who might not be comfortable in the mountains or with horses, and helping them to feel more at ease. Can I do it? That is my challenge. And when I can say, “Yes, I can!” you can see how rewarding that feels. Dinner conversations at my table change from mechanics talk and construction and snow… to the rewarding trials of the day on the trail. The boys listen to me, to my enthusiasm. They know it was a “yes” day. On those very few “no” days, I remain completely silent.

Fear of the wilds, mountain trails, and these thousand pound animals is real, and for good reason. We can get hurt. This is a fact. The fact has created our fears. However, a group of other facts are the cure to alleviate, or at least reduce to a manageable position, those same fears. Acquiring knowledge tends to be the first step in elevating fear.

That’s where I (and hopefully all outfitters and wrangers today) come into the picture. Sharing knowledge – of the horse and the mountains – is my job. My goal is almost always the same. To allow the person the information which enables him or her to feel more comfortable. Knowledge empowers us. Slowly, what once seemed so frightening is now understandable. This new knowledge, or a confirmation or refresher of this knowledge, helps us lift our heads, raise our eyes, and so, “Oh, yes! That makes sense!” Knowledge replaces fear with comfort. We might sill have a respectable dose of fear of the given situation, and that’s probably a good thing, but at least we can manage it now. When it’s all more manageable, it’s all more comfortable. And when you’re more comfortable, I’m pretty sure you’ll enjoy yourself more. Folks come here for vacation. Shouldn’t they enjoy themselves?

It’s a natural progression. Fear is replaced with knowledge. We can see the progression. We help by teaching our guests just a little bit of how, why, what to do, where to go, how to get there. A little bit about the language the horses speak, and how to speak it. It is rewarding to see our riders start to sit back and breath. And our horses in turn soften their eyes, relax at the poll, swivel their ears, and begin to listen to their new rider.

With every new rider, I, too, have the opportunity to learn anew. What works best for the rider? What works best for the horse? These things matter to me. Simple riding skills, I know, but a trip horseback in the high mountains may always turn into something other than simple. And we all have a much better chance of keeping things simple if we take time for every rider, every time, to share a bit of basic knowledge. My horses thank me most sincerely in their own way.

There is no sense in condemning. If you’re not doing it right, I’m not teaching it right! I, too, learned to ride. I was not born with this knowledge, was not born into this knowledge, and still (and will always) have plenty more to learn.

As outfitters, teaching riding was not always considered our greatest strength. “Dudes” were put in the saddle, a pat on the horses’ rump would get the horse moving, and we trusted our horses to follow along the trail and get everyone back… safe and sound? More or less. Ask most folks who used to ride at Dude Ranches back in the day and you’ll hear some wild tales. Unfortunately, most were true. This is what happens when we ride without knowledge. And the crazy thing is: more often than not, the horse actually did get the rider home in one piece. I think we all had the horse to thank, not the person on top holding on for dear life, kicking or pulling in random progression meaningless to the horse. The horse was not happy, I can tell you that. And the rider, well, he or she was just plum lucky.

We used to think a bigger bit might make a better ride. Keep the rider safe, the horse in line. I know this sounds terrible, but it’s true. And at the end of every ride, I don’t know how the rider was, because I was far more concerned with my horses. They’d be more agitated and frustrated every time. At the end of each season, they would be progressively more desensitized. Kick and pull was the name of the game.

Time to change the game.

Today, my husband smiles at me and smirks as he listens over and over and over again to my crash course in tail riding.

“Hold onto the base of the mane as you mount”
“Settle softy onto the horses back”
“Sit deep like a sack of potatoes”
“Shoulders back… and breathe”
“Remain centered on the horse”
“Be riding all the time”
“Keep a lose rein”
“Focus first”
“Suggest with the reins”
“Use leg pressure only if need be”
“To stop, ask your horse first”
“Assume he will do what you ask”
“The more politely we ask our horses, the more they will listen to us”
“Don’t try to fight your horse, he’s bigger, he’ll win”
"Follow through, stay with it, and wait for the horse to respond"
“Give an instant release when you get the results you want”
“Don’t be so quick to blame the horse, see instead what you may be doing wrong”
“And don’t forget to breathe…”

Five minutes, maybe ten. That’s all it takes. But it makes an infinite difference to my horses. And guess what, tomorrow I may never see the rider again, but the horse? I live with him. I work with him. I rely on him for my livelihood. I care for him and want him to enjoy his job as I enjoy mine.

Oh yes, it’s all simple stuff. But if we don’t teach this to a rider, all they are is a passenger, and usually a passenger who is trying to stay in control of game they have no idea how to play. I can pretty well guarantee that my riders today return home happy and comfortable and confident. They return a better rider than when they started out. That is very rewarding to me. I believe many in the horse industry, in the guest ranch or outfitting industries, are doing the same. Lucky for the horses, lucky for the riders. Lucky for us who spend our days working with horse and rider.

Our rides may not be the wild, reckless adventures of yesteryear, but my riders are safer, and my horses are happier. And with each ride, I am allowed the lesson of clarity of communication with both horse and rider. I still have much to learn, but learn more every year, with every ride.

What once was fear was conquered by knowledge and replaced with comfort. Me, my horses, and hopefully especially my riders, can all feel this difference.

A modest proposal in praise of rope halters

2009-12-03T12:25:00.007-07:00

Recently, I read an article putting down the rope halter and comparing it to, seriously, a torture device. First, this made me roll me eyes. Then it made me a bit angry. I know my horses. I live and work with them. When I put a rope halter on them, I can promise you, they are not being tortured.

Being outfitters, we often leave our halters on beneath the bridle so that when I arrive at a fishing location, a picnic spot, or at camp, I can jump off my horse, clip on light lead ropes to each of the horses halters, secure the horse safely to a tree and slowly unbridle, loosen the cinch or unsaddle as necessary. I have the safety of many horses, and riders, to attend to quickly. It’s a practical, although I have been told, rather unattractive practice most outfitters choose by necessity. We may be a rough breed, outfitters, but we are practical, and those I have known, care for their horses, and know their horses, as well or better than those calling this practice ugly. Our horses are not only our passion, they are our life.

The rope halter, under the bridle, is far lighter and less distracting for both horse and rider than the heavy nylon web halter. In addition, if one claims this “torture device” is so powerful that a horse would be hurt should he or she pull back, well then, in my job, that’s fine. Don’t pull back. However, I’m afraid I haven’t found them that effective!

I am certain there are pros and cons to all kinds of halters, out of all kinds of materials. I do believe it all comes down to personal preference, and knowledge of use and handling. I would like to keep an open mind, and to use what works best for me and for my horses. I would not like to condemn others for using something different. This would only prove my ignorance. It is he who talks the most who knows the least. (Stop me before I go on too long!)

Regarding calling the rope halter a torture device, I can not say I have seen this to be true, however I can say this: the same argument has been used against all kinds of tack – from a leverage bit, a spade bit, hackamores, spurs, riding crops… you name it.

There is no replacement for good horsemanship. No tool will make us handle horses better. Or, I believe, worse. Only through our own growing knowledge of the horse and improvement of our communication skills will we be better horsemen.

So you can blame the bit, or blame the bridle, or blame the halter. Me, I’ll blame the handler. And I’ll take the blame if I am torturing my horses. But when they run to me and turn their head softly towards me as I ask them to slip on their halter… somehow, I think torture may not be the right word.

Here was my response to the finger pointed at the halter:

“Is it the tool or the handler? Any tool can have harsh results in harsh hands. Likewise, lightness from the so-called harshest of tools flows from light hands…
I make my own …they are cheap, light and handy, quite comfortable for my horses... for my use… they work for me. I work well with them. I think it's not the tool, but the handler. Likewise, with spurs, leverage bits, etc. Perhaps for folks assuming rope halters are 'natural' and therefore, only gentle, we should remind them that they, like any tool, can be harsh and cruel if used improperly. Know your tools. The best of horsemen can learn to use any tool with lightness. Rather than rely on a tool, rely on a touch.”

An extreme sport

2009-11-28T10:56:00.004-07:00

What do you call it? I call it an extreme sport.

No, it’s not rock climbing or sky diving or heli-skiing. But horse packing in the back country is nothing less than… extreme. Think of what you’re up against: unpredictable elements and untamed nature, trails unmanaged and/or unknown, solitude and/or stuck working with some less than ideal companions, managing horses who may have their own mind and agenda, the wilds and the wilderness, within us as well as about us. At best, you return cold and sore. You give up comforts for... for... for what, you might ask?

For a sunrise over the magnificent mountains while sipping hot coffee and watching contented horses graze. Meals which taste so much better cooked over the open fire. A view you become a part of, something no photos could possibly capture. A bonding with our horses which does not come from a little ride in the arena. Lying snuggled in a tent between my family, there together safe and warm, hearing the gentle snorting of the nearby horses. I am wanting for nothing more.

It all creates a picture that for those of us who long for it, makes it all worth while.

Back country riding is not to be taken lightly. And consequences are possible. We do all we can do minimize risk and maximize enjoyment. It’s an awesome experience. That’s why we’re out there. But no matter how careful we are, accidents may happen.

And yet, I love it. I imagine most folks who do it, love it. We’re out there for that feeling of adventure, of life, of living, of such an intense reality that only comes when we are ever so slightly out of our element an into a factor of the unknown. We become more alert, more alive, more attuned to our environment, to ourselves. It’s a Zen state. We live each moment in the here and now.

Be here now.

That’s about the best advice I read recently for preventing accidents, or if you find yourself in the middle of one, getting through it and helping others through to the best of our abilities.

Riding is risky. Back country riding adds a whole new element to the risk of riding known as environment. Slipping, sliding, falling, getting hit by branches or caught out in the elements… or lost. These are just a few of the risks. All accidents can not be prevented, of course. Not everything in life is within our control. But quite a bit is. And those things that are, we should know how to control. How? Knowledge. That and remaining here and now, so that our knowledge doesn’t fail us when we need it most.

We do our best to go out there with knowledge.

Know your horse. I trust my horses. They are not perfect. None of us are. But I understand them, and they trust me. We work together. If we are training and working with an inexperienced horse, we know it is best not to go alone, or at least, are certain someone back home knows our route and is looking out for our return. The return of a horse without a rider is never a good sign. Neither is the return of a rider without a horse.

Know your environment. Where are you going and what could you possibly encounter? Are you prepared? Will you be warm enough? Dry? Have shelter? Find food for your horses? Do your horses know how to walk on granite slopes and slide down steep muddy trails with a rider or pack? Will they keep their cool when surprised by the unknown – because there is simply no way to prepare a horse for everything that they might encounter? All we can do is prepare them to safely react to the unknown.

Know your survival skills, including wilderness or back country survival skills and a basic knowledge of first aid. Up here one of the most useful skills is that of building a fire. Hypothermia happens. Don’t let it happen to you. Go out there prepared.

So at the end of the riding season, when I reflect back on my wounds and injuries and the worst of it was a split on the bridge of my nose, I consider myself lucky. I’m hoping it’s more than dumb luck. I’d like to say it’s because I was careful. I paid attention to my horses, my environment, my skills, the weather, the route, what was going on around me at all times… but no, I’m not always here and now. My mind wanders faster than my horses’ footprints. I daydream. I get scared. I get excited. I learn too often how little I still know, how much more I need and want to learn. I’m afraid I am just plain lucky. At least I was this year. And I’m mighty glad for that.

On comments

2009-11-24T18:58:00.002-07:00

My apologies, friends and visitors. After receiving several e-mails mentioning the difficulty in posting comments on this site, I had switched my settings around to make it easier. However, turns out, I made it harder. So hard, in fact, that it couldn’t be done at all. Looks like I removed the link to comment…

Blogs are all about comments. We want to hear from you. That’s why we write; that’s why we share. Blogs are a conversation (though some of us do manage to talk more than others!).

I hope I’ve set things back so you can leave comments once again. And please do! We love to hear from you, to receive your feedback, ideas, stories, support and suggestions.

And for those of you still experiencing difficulties posting a comment, please feel free to write me directly. Your comments do matter!

Warmly,
Gin

Insulated Water Trough

2009-11-23T18:54:00.001-07:00

I don’t know how many folks reading this have to deal with morning temperatures which regularly read anywhere from an even zero down to “off” – that’s what happens on my digital thermometer when the temperature sinks lower than 22 degrees below zero. And it does here.

The challenge of providing the horses with winter water has always been an issue for us. We do not have open waters or a creek we can keep flowing or break into the surface ice each morning. The Rio Grande crosses our ranch, but the only way horses drop down the bluff to the river is when we ride them, and for better or for worse, we are not out there riding in the several feet of packed snow that winter brings. And anyway, the river gets about a foot or so of solid ice on its surface. Trying to fight the ice to keep the water flowing would be a loosing battle. In addition, our ranch is completely off-grid, and our solar electricity was not designed to keep a stock water heater going all night long every night for half the year. As a result, we’ve been dealing with smaller water buckets filled several times a day, and the habit of dumping out solid buckets of ice hours later.

Looks like we finally came up with a great solution. It does not take a constant flow of water, nor any power for heat or water movement, so it is extremely economical. We simply fill the large water trough every other day, close the lid at night, and open it during the day. Voila! Horse water without the ice!

The trick is that we insulated the water trough really well, and even built an insulated lid that is kept shut at night. So far we’ve made it to zero (yes, that’s Fahrenheit, so about -18 Celsius) without so much as a film of ice on the surface of the water in the morning when I open the lid.

Cost to us? $0. We started with an old black plastic stock tank we had been using for years but which would freeze solid each night in the past. Then we dug a hole about 18 inches deep and wider and longer than the tank. (A backhoe helps for this part of the job.) We set down several layers of sheet foam insulation that we had lying around below the tank, set in the tank just below the ground level keeping in mind that the horses can only lower their heads to drink to about the level of the front hooves. Then we built a box around the tank with an old panel of foam core insulation from a neighbors building project scrap pile. Around this, we nailed an external layer of 1”x4” scrap lumber, then back filled the dirt, piling extra around the back and sides, leaving the front as an easy ramp to the water for the horses. Next, we built a lid out of plywood, and glued on several layers of that sheet foam insulation. Neat thing here is that is silvery on the surface, so it reflects the sunlight back onto the water if we angle it just right, thereby helping to heat the water during sunlight hours. My son came up with a good simple rope and pulley system so that I can open and close the lid with one hand, and tie the lid up by hooking a loop around a nail so that it hangs closed just enough to direct the sunlight down onto the water, but not enough to be in the horses’ way.

Like so many things on this ranch, with our learning to adjust to the altitude and harsh climate, this is an experiment, but so far, so good. It’s working! We’ll see what happens when that thermometer drops to “off.”

A personal story

2009-11-18T19:31:00.001-07:00

I was not a horse kid. In fact, I barely knew what a horse was as a child. I couldn’t even convince my folks to get me a cat. Though I did catch mice from time to time and kept them in a fish tank with a screen over it. Mice can jump out.

As a youngster, I never saw a horse up close, never touched one, never smelled one. Don’t remember seeing a Western, and certainly never went to a horse show. Didn’t know anyone who rode, let anyone who actually owned a horse. The closest I got to a horse was the big gentle giants that pulled the fancy buggies around Central Park. We’d walk by them on the crowded city streets when we’d go down town to look at the Christmas lights, all bundled up and still cold in the damp winter air. I remember being little, holding a big person’s hand so I wouldn’t get lost in the push and crunch of the crowd, and trying to see those horses as they clip clopped past us on the frozen pavement. Peaceful dragons, with smoke billowing from their nostrils. They looked tired, but wise, and deep. I don’t know if that’s the right word for it, but that’s rather how I felt about them. Deep.

I grew up outside of, then inside of New York City. I never really fit in. As a kid, I was quiet and solitary. I’d play in the basement, alone with my Barbies or crayons or ballet. Alone down there, surrounded by cement and the Big Black Boiler which chugged and groaned and then suddenly let out a big clang every once in a while so I could never anticipate it coming and be prepared. Always a little spooky, but still safe and quiet and peaceful, because I was alone.

When I was 16, I remember jogging through a quiet section of the Park on the west side, lost in my own thoughts, unaware of my environment, just focusing on my breath and my rolling, rhythmic feet. Suddenly a beautiful and magical apparition appeared before me: a lovely fit woman clad in proper English attire atop a stunning horse with flowing tail, cantering down the soft trail. She passed me. I stopped. And I watched as she disappeared around the corner and into the trees.

I decided then and there that is what I had to do.

Clairmont Stables, I believe was the name of a real riding stable right there on the Upper West Side, just a couple of blocks from Central Park. By the time I was 17, I earned enough money that I could take lessons about once a month or so. In addition, I saved up enough to buy the right boots and hat and breeches so I wouldn’t look as silly as I felt around all those fancy ladies and the beautiful horses. I tried to be really inconspicuous, hoping to blend in with the wooden walls and sawdust as I had done in the cement of my basement.

I must have taken at least a couple of lessons. Funny, because I can’t remember them, can’t remember a teacher, can’t remember being inside the barn arena for very long, with all those people and horses and noises and smells. I just wanted to take the horse and go out and ride. And they let me.

I don’t know if they still do things like. I wouldn’t! But they did back then, 25 years ago. And it was, well, indescribable. I can’t really find the words to tell you how it felt to be a young woman, in the crisp and cold and early morning calm and soft that can be found in the still sleepy city; so strong and empowered riding her powerful steed across a couple quiet intersections and into the park, and then to run, to run, to run… I suppose most of you know. Most of you already knew. For me it was new. And it was wild and free.

I couldn’t afford to go very often. But I remember when I could, I’d be on the subway so early in the morning, long before the rush hour crowds, dressed in my proper English boots and pants, with my helmet under one arm, holding on to the overhead handle for balance with my other hand. And I would feel so proud. Oh… if they only knew where I was going, what I was doing… they wouldn’t look oddly at this skinny little girl!

Life takes us on our twisted and tangled journeys, and sometimes we have to just go along with whichever direction we find ourselves caught in the current. Other times, we find a goal, perhaps a vision, a direction so strong that we have to do whatever we can to follow that dream. Working and living with horses was that dream for me. It was so strong, so driving, I knew it was right.

I have been lucky at times and struggling more often, but managed to create a life with horses. I live far off in the mountains with my little family of two leggeds, and larger family of four leggeds. It is a wonderful journey every day working and living together, and has been an interesting journey to get here.

I have been lucky at times, finding mentors and opportunities and open doors. Other times, most times, I have worked very hard, staying up late studying and waking extra early in attempt to make the grade. But I have made it work. I have been able to live and work with my horses. I’m not a famous clinician, or big name trainer, or popular riding instructor. I’m just an outfitter. I ride in the mountains for a living. I don’t make much money, but I am so rich inside: I live the life my guests pay to participate in for just a few days, or even a few hours. I feel blessed every time I am out there on top of a mountain on one of these magnificent creatures, and sharing it with my husband, my son, or even with a group of friends or strangers who have hired me to safely guide them.

That twisted and tangled road is still continuing. I’m only half way there, wherever “there” is meant to be. I only know it is with the horse. Our outfitting business is dying. Folks just don’t come to ride in the back country this far away from “civilization” very often any more. My in-laws have been feuding and have divided the ranch. We no longer have the land to graze all my four leggeds. It is time to move on, time to get in the saddle and hit the high trail, to see where it leads. I will follow.

And with my horses, my husband and son and I are going to move on together to build a new life, a new little world. I don’t know where, or when, or what I’ll do. But I know somehow it will be living and working with my horses. I have committed to them. I have committed to this goal. I believe it is right, somehow, yet so frightening too.

I try to be as brave as I was back when I was 17, when I bought my own proper gear and walked into a stable and a world I had never been a part of before. At times I look for the walls to hide along side of, but most of the time, I step up in the saddle and remember I need no walls. I ride, we run, we are free and strong and safe together. Where ever we may ride to. That is where I am meant to be.

Written by Gin Getz, originally posted on the site: Enlightened Horsemanship though Touch

Tricks of the trade: Tying to the highline

2009-11-17T19:32:00.002-07:00

Out on a pack trip, the highline serves as the barn for the night for our horses. The longer we stay at any one given camp, the more the horses learn to find a comfort zone by the highline. Although riding or pastured during the day when at camp, even hobbled horses have been known to hop back up hill and stand in the trees under “their” place in the highline when frightened, for protection from a sudden rain or hail storm, or just to rest when their bellies are full.

The highline can be as simple as the lash rope when removed from around the pack saddle, stretched between two trees with the cinch used as a handy tree saver; or a specialty rope like we tend to use now which is plenty long, perhaps 70 or 75 feet long, with metal rings to tie to, woven into the rope at about 10 foot intervals for a safe distance between horses.

A simple option is a long 75’ or longer climbing rope that can be packed last – then unpacked first when at camp. Using old cinches or proper tree savers, secure the rope between two large, sturdy trees, a minimum of 10 inch diameter. The rope should hang high; at the lowest point in the center, it should be about as high as you can reach with your arms over your head. I usually have to jump up to catch the rings of the highline when tying up horses at night. My boys are much taller than I am…

Now, here’s a handy trick I read about years ago and have used from time to time throughout the years. Cut short sections of ¼ inch diameter rope (I use climbing or marine rope), each about two feet long. Burn the ends to seal, then tie the ends into a slip proof knot so that you have a loop about 10 inches long. Make several of these – one for each horse. Then when you’re at camp, each of these will be the “ring” onto which you tie the horses’ lead rope to the highline. If you loop these over the highline, then pull the backside through the itself (see the photo above – it’s really so simple) you’ll end up with a slip proof ring onto which you can tie your horse’s lead, and not worry about the lead rope (and the horse) zipping back and forth on the highline all night, and getting too close for comfort to the horse next door.

To tie the lead rope onto these or the metal rings of the highlines, fold over the last 2 feet of lead rope, pass this folded section through the ring on the highline, grab the folded end as it comes halfway through the ring. In the same hand, also grab the end of the lead rope which is hanging loose on the opposite side of the ring from the folded end. With your other hand, turn back a section of the lead rope coming down from the ring and attached to your horse (caution here to keep fingers out the way!) and make a little loop. Drop the folded end and the loose end through this loop. Adjust your slack and tighten from the length of rope leading back down to the horse. There should be enough slack in the line so that the horse’s head is not held up high, but not so much that he or she can take several steps to the side and possibly kick the neighbor.

The photo above has the white marine rope at the top representing the highline. The yellow striped rope shows the simple but secure "rings" attaching to the highline. Then the white marine rope at the bottom shows how the horse’s lead rope is attached to the highline ring.

This is a great knot because it is so quick and easy to tie up, only one of our horses knows how to untie this knot (he can untie most any knot), and no matter how the horse may pull back, it is a breeze to untie by simply pushing up with the section of rope which leads back to the horse, thereby relaxing the loop and allowing the folded end and loose end to slip out. We use this same knot to tie together our pack string – securing one pack horse’s lead rope to the pigging strings on the pack saddle of pack horse in front.

Peace Returns

2009-11-09T18:16:00.003-07:00

In so many ways.
A warm spell, perhaps the last until the end of March.
Calm, a rest from work, a reprise in play, the pasture is melted out, gates open wide, spirits soar and simply run free. A letting loose across the mountain like a warm, fresh breeze. The horses pretend they are wild. They do not need me until feeding time. I let them enjoy their freedom, and watch them as if they were untamed and boundless.

The experiment worked. The stallion, Flying Crow (Fadjurz Ideal) has returned to his herd, and is getting along.

Good old ground work. All it takes is time and patience, but it works wonders. At least, that’s what I’m giving the credit to here. See, my hope was that if doing ground work with a horse improved their manners around me, perhaps my doing ground work with the stallion in and around his herd might remind him that he has to behave around the other horses as well.

For three days, I led him out of his separate pasture and into his herd and spent about fifteen minutes doing work in hand – moving front end, back end, backing up, longing, and leading. A subtle and simple dance under my lead, with his herd members flocking about him perhaps in curiosity, perhaps wishing it was they receiving my attentions.

On the forth day, I brought him out to the pasture with his herd, went through the lessons, then took off the halter and let him go. After standing there near me for a few minutes, he finally put his head down and began eating, then milling around his family. But not chasing them.

It was one of those things I kept looking out the window for, waiting for. I was sure I’d see it. I was expecting him to “remember” how badly he felt the need to run after his 2-year old, Tresjur, to boss his herd around, to give them all chase, cornering the mares and yearlings on one end, and keeping Tresjur far off on the other.

I never saw it. It never came. It never happened. Five days later, I have realized that something worked. I would like to hope I can take the credit for showing him the necessity of behaving around the herd. I would like to think it was all thanks to “ground work.”

What ever it was, something worked. I’m not the only one grateful for it. You can bet young Tresjur is mighty thankful. Was it the ground work? Maybe. I’m always amazed what it can do. Regardless, we’ve got a bunch a happier horses out there, and a happier person in here watching them all get along.

Winter's Warning

2009-11-05T10:33:00.004-07:00

This time of year, the snow comes and goes. One day our world is white, the next a heavy mud, then followed by a day of warm and brown and open ground. But the warmth is deceiving. The ground is freezing. The frost digs in, buries its icy finger deep within the earth, and prepares to stay a while. Five feet under, for months on end, it is a permanent part of our life here, our roots like those of the Spruce and Aspen, lie dormant, awaiting.

We do not ride in winter. The land forewarns us. Between the sudden surprise of hidden ice and snow packed firmly several feet thick, our riding days are numbered.

In fact, they may be over for the season, but I resist admitting this yet.

The signs are all around us. The horses’ coats are growing as long and thick as a cow’s. Each morning they stand and watch and wait as I break the ice in their insulated water trough. I work the horses on frozen ground. The stallion slips and falls and looks up at me questioning. And for a moment, for a change, I am glad I am not riding.

And then noon comes, the relative heat of the day, and the piles of manure remain frozen to the core. When my shovel hits a hard center and will not budge, and I risk broken toes trying to kick a pile free… it is time to retire the manure fork for the season, hang it like a memory beside the bridles. Allow them both to gather dust through the long, cold, winter, a time when we live on memories and dreams, reflections and anticipations.

This feeling is captured so well a post entitled, “Bright vision of momentary pastures,” recently published by Julian on his site, White Horse Pilgrim.

I will strive to find the words to compliment his which so well and beautifully capture the essence of this season, but in the meanwhile, I hope you will enjoy his…

Graduation Day: The first ride

2009-11-02T11:39:00.004-07:00

This is it. The big day. All the work with the newborn foal, the weanling and the yearling is paying off. We finally get to ride!

And because of our previous work together, this day is uneventful and a positive move forward. A giant step in my mind, but a natural progression in the horse’s.

Now, remember here, just like our Graduation Day, this doesn’t mean the horse will know it all, do it all, and have their Master’s. That’s up to us, to time, to training… but now it can be training under saddle, and a lot more fun. Take your time – allow the horse to understand and enjoy. Why not? I’d rather my horse want to be out there working with me, not tolerating another lesson, another task, another unpleasant day.

So, here we have the two year old. This is Tresjur of the Rio, a half Arabian/half Quarter Horse born here on the ranch out of our mare Tres and our stud Fadjurz Ideal (Flying Crow). He’s gone through his imprinting lessons, his weanling schooling, his yearling courses… he’s ready to ride. We start by refreshing all lessons we taught to him as a yearling. I am amazed how he remembers everything. Nothing is forgotten. No time was wasted. On the contrary, what was challenging for him to understand last year, he gets perfectly this year. He only requires a light touch, a gentle request. He leads politely; moves ahead at a walk or trot with a simple request; backs; moves his front end around his stationary back end; moves his back end around his front feet; gives lightly and easily to lateral flexion; turns into the feel of the rope halter; responds to voice and a gentle side pull for “whoa.” He has been saddled before, and is comfortable with us standing over him, leaning on him. He’s ready to ride.

I call on my secret weapon: my husband, Bob. With the horse under my lead, my husband slowly and kindly mounts, allowing Tresjur time to adjust to the added weight on his back, and become comfortable with one of us petting him… from up there. With Bob just sitting, I ask Tresjur to move. Slowly at first, allowing him time to adjust now to the added weight. His first step backwards is his only adjustment. You can tell it feels different. From there on, he handles it well. I have him do all his lessons again, quickly passing through the tasks of backing, moving front end, moving back end, flexing, stepping forward at a walk, moving out at a trot. Bob does nothing but sit. We leave the corral and step out on the ranch.

Next, I give Bob the lead rope. We work at this stage still only with a rope halter and marine rope lead without additional hardware or weight. It is what the horse is used to. He understands this communication. We do not need more. So, Bob in the saddle now asks Tresjur to go through the same paces – back, front end, hind end, flexion, walk, trot, canter, whoa… rest, relax… I walk beside Tresjur and reiterate Bob’s requests with the verbal cues and hand signals he is used to. This way, Tresjur not only has the commands he’s comfortable with coming from me, but is also understanding them from the new perspective of from the rider in the saddle. The whole time, Tresjur stares at me directly in the eyes, looking for the right answer. I smile, pet him, tell him he’s doing great. I want a confident horse. There’s a lot of scary stuff out there.

Finally, I step back, and Bob continues alone with Tresjur. Tresjur now understands. He is receiving the same requests, in the same language, for things he already knows how to do, but now they are coming from the saddle, not the ground. It is easy. It makes sense to him. He does wonderful.

We keep it short and sweet. Ending on a good note. Bob knows he can ride that horse out and could head up the trail. I have to encourage him off the horse – he’d rather stay on and ride. We’ve been working two years for this day. Every time, with every colt, it can be as rewarding, as exciting, as wonderful.

This same day, we take the first ride on Canella, a four year old who is late in receiving her first ride, though has all the ground work from day one that Tresjur had. We chose to postpone her first ride for two years to allow for a injury to heal. She had been tangled in barbed wire at two weeks old and twisted her leg. We were concerned she might never heal strong enough, and have used her as a broodmare while waiting. Time seems to have healed her. She may not be a performance horse, or capable of very many miles each day, but she’ll at least be able to be part of the team, and out there on the trail in small doses, with us instead of being left behind.

Now we can take them on short rides, exposing them to the trail, refining our lessons, working on new ones – opening gates, checking fences, up and down slopes, crossing ditches, roads, creeks. There will be obstacles to overcome every day. Challenges. Life lessons. Look at it as fun stuff. We try to help the horse learn and grow with every experience.

At this stage, there are no bad habits to overcome. Any bad habits from here on are those we teach. We try not to! We take responsibility for our horses’ education, and allow them to grow into the partner we wish them to be, know they would rather be, not a problem we settle for. The choice is ours, and the difference is in the amount of time we are willing to give to the horse, and in our leadership, lightness, direction, communication, consistency, and in the patience we are able to allow him or her.

Stallion gone wild

2009-10-28T12:27:00.002-06:00

Winter is coming early. The last of our horses who will be spending the following half a year down on pasture in the valley below our mountain have been sent off. The remaining six horses are stuck up here with me. Really stuck. Our ranch is located at an elevation of nearly 10,000, though fortunately with good southern exposure – and Colorado does get sun in the winter. And snow. That snow gets deep; our road becomes closed to anything but skis and snowmobiles, and our horses become confined to the single track they lay down, packing their way through storm after storm, until their trails are set for the season, channels of packed snow they learn to follow like a good book. One step off could mean disaster. Imagine a horse stuck in four feet of compressed snow. It’s not the pretty, fluffy picturesque romp you see in the old westerns. In our reality, it looks like that only for the first snow or two of the season. After that, “falling in” for a horse deems a situation worthy of panic. It is a matter of survival. They know. They do not belong up here, but are completely dependant upon my care. I do my best to provide, and know it is never enough.

Every year around this time we open the gates and let the horses run together in their limited and rapidly reducing environment. And for half the year, the stallion, Flying Crow, is allowed to run with his herd. A beautiful as sight as any I have seen, natural and wild and free.

This year, his herd is reduced. It is small and economical. He has his two best mares, a two-year old gelded son, and two yearlings (a colt and a filly). When I opened the gate, he stepped out of his ½ acre paddock, walked 15 feet, put his head down, and grazed. Ah, the idyllic vision as he is surrounded by his mares and offspring.

But Utopia didn’t last long. About a half hour. Then he took to chasing the small herd around and around, in and out of open gates, all over the 20 acres of pasture. Finally, he cornered the mares and yearlings. They submitted. They were fine.

But the 2-year old was kept out. Ran off. Not allowed near. Not near water, not near hay. Certainly not near the other horses. Why?

This 2-year old, Tresjur is his name and he’ll be the subject of our next post, was suspected of maturing last year, as a yearling, a bit early from my limited experience. After noticing the stallion then chasing the youngster through the fence two times, I called the vet out. It was considered premature, but they were there. He was promptly gelded. We assumed with the loss of his testicles would be the end of the problems. Though we hadn’t tested the waters yet.

I believe in allowing horses to be horses, and let them work things out themselves when they safely and reasonably can. After a night of being chased off, Tresjur was found hiding in the willows the following morning, trembling. Fortunately not a scratch or a bite mark on him.

Crow was put off in a separate field, Tresjur returned to his family and friends unmolested. A snow storm now covers the mountain. Operations shut down for the day. We will regroup and reconsider and figure out how to reintroduce Crow to his herd on a better day, in a better way. Any suggestions? Any one else have experiences they can share to provide insight to a stallions behavior? I have read those who believe stallions are unpredictable. I beg to differ. They are remarkably predictable beings. IF we understand who and what a stallion is, what their needs are, what drives them. I am still learning.

In the meanwhile, I worry for my poor Tresjur, to have been what appears to us unknowing humans unnecessarily harassed by his sire. And now, poor Crow, for being denied the chance to run free with his herd. It will happen again. Later and safer. Time to regroup. After the snow melts.

High School Years: The Yearlings

2009-10-24T21:58:00.004-06:00

My son is in high school. I think he’d tell you what he’s learning is a lot harder than what a yearling learns. He’s right, of course. But I’m sticking with this analogy because it shows how we’re taking the basic knowledge learned in elementary school, fine tuning it, and bringing it to a higher level. Sort of like high school was for us, though not near as difficult. Or as long. I give it three days for the yearling. Bet my son wishes high school could be so quick…

So, onto the yearlings, and their lessons.

In three days, we teach our yearlings the basis for communications and movement, teaching everything the colt will need to know to make his first ride a success. Everything except the rider.

In three days, we teach the horse to move his front end, move his back end, back up, move forward at a walk, trot and canter; and stop. We teach him to choose lightness by offering lightness first. We teach him to enjoy working with people by making it fun and interesting. We teach him to understand by being clear and consistent with our communications.

Using the same methods of teaching and training as discussed in the post entitled Elementary School, we ask our horse to move off of pressure in two ways: first, from our fingertips; second, from hand signals – teaching the horse to learn to listen to our body language, not just physical pressure.

Starting with the fingertips. For each, you’ll want to apply pressure very lightly at first, and slowly progress until you have a strong, even pressure. Hold the pressure (not so strong it need be painful) until the horse figures out the right move. Reward the right answer with INSTANT release of pressure, and then a gentle pat or rub. Each time, start soft and slowly progress. Horses are smart. It will only take a few times before you won’t need to progress. They’ll get it. Lightness works.

With this, I start by asking for a back up with gentle pressure on the nose where the halter or bosal would lie. Reward each step, each try. Then with my fingers upon the side of the colt's neck, I ask him move his front end, crossing over, pivoting around the back end. Next, with pressure behind where the back cinch would be on the horse’s flank, I ask him move his back end around, pivoting now around his front feet. Then, I ask for forward motion with light suggestion of the lead, staring with a walk. When that’s mastered, we’ll increase gate speed to a trot and then a canter. I use verbal commands, accompanied by increasing my own energy, and urging forward motion by continuing to point the lead in the direction I would like the colt to go, while increasing pressure, usually simply by waving my hands or a lead rope in the direction of the horse’s back end. Finally, I ask for a stop, quickly and suddenly, with a firm “Whoa” and a pop of the lead rope as cue, having the horse turn and face me. And then let him rest a moment. Makes “whoa” be a really good thing, something to look forward to.

Along these lines, this is good time and way to teach lateral flexion and then turning into the direction of the lead.

Moving onto the hand signals. Take a similar approach as with touch, but contact may never be necessary. Start with a mild hand signal. I use a soft hand with a pointed finger. This will signify a move in a certain direction if I point to part of his body or in a direction in front of him. I’ll start with a subtle but clear hand motion. If no response, my hands may raise and make a more dramatic show. I’ll increase pressure until at the highest form of pressure, I have to touch the horse. All along, he’s been looking for the right answer, so pushing him now will often come as a “Oh, so that’s what you were saying,” reaction from the colt.

With this, I would like the yearling to learn to back up when I stand in front of him and gently shake my hands or make a subtle pushing motion; to move his front end around his back end when I point to his neck and softly wag my hands, and his back end around his front end when I point to his hip; and to move forward when I point and wave ahead of the horse in the direction I’d like him to go.

I’ll introduce the concepts on the first day, only at a walk. The second day, it’s a reiteration, often with a little more resistance, and ask for a trot. The third day, chances are he really gets it, and we’ll progress to the canter for just a moment or two.

At the end of these three days, you can also introduce a saddle and allow the colt to feel comfortable with pressure from the girth and weight on his or her back. Let him smell it and explore it first. There’s no rush. If he’s afraid, lead him up to it. Don’t tie him down. Let him walk away if he’s that scared, and slowly bring him back, a little closer each time. In time, his curiosity will get the better of him, and he’ll have to touch it with his nose. Likewise, with raising and lowering the saddle onto his back, start with the blanket, and advance to the saddle, taking it on and off until he’s bored with each. We do not mount a yearling, and only put a few rides on a two year old. We are not in a rush to wear out our horses. We can wait until their bones develop, take our time training, and hope for an awesome horse working with us well into their twenties.

It is not uncommon that a yearling may show more resistance than a two year old, because for a yearling this is all new. Doing something that is asked of him, in itself, is the hardest lesson. Don’t fight it. Make it fun. Walk away if you lose patience. All the work I do with yearlings makes working with a two year old a breeze. They remember everything (so make it a positive experience) and are that much lighter, softer and easier for it, even after – or because of - a year off. So… next, onto the two year olds!

Running like the wind... unintentionally.

2009-10-22T21:38:00.002-06:00

After a summer of regular use, trail riding, simply walking on the trails, even for hundreds of miles over the summer season, even in this high elevation and challenging terrain, is not enough for some horses. However, just walking along the trails is the primary part of my horses’ job. Be it taking guests on a trail ride, packing in a drop camp to the back country, or bringing the three of us into the Wilderness for our Ditch Digging Job. Our horses spend a lot of time… walking.

But for my little Arabian stud horse, simply walking did not seem to be enough. To begin with, I could never get him to sweat. A sure sign walking just wasn’t doing it. No matter where or how far or how long we walked, it was not big deal for him. Ho-hum. What next, Ma? And although I’m a reasonably small woman, he still seemed so little. So thin, so frail!

I suppose if I rode him only, put on more miles, or if days were only longer. However, I lack the time or the opportunity… Too much else to do. Sound familiar? We never do find enough time, do we? I suppose that’s why they invented exercise machines. But I just can’t get myself to go there when I live here: high in the mountains surrounded by unlimited miles of awesome horse trails.

Whereas my Quarter Horse is all beefed up from a summer of equal use, this little fellow needs more. So, in a final attempt to buff up my little stud, we’ve taken to measuring out a special supplemental diet. And running.

Figured it would be more work out in less time. And if you’ve ever tried running yourself at 10,000 feet plus, you’ll understand why I thought this could get him in shape.

We’re a mere 20 days into the new regime. Guess it is working. He’s still pretty little and skinny, if you ask me. But he’s getting stronger every day. All this running and extra calories are paying off. So, now I’m left wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

See, last time we were out there, doing great. Obviously we can’t run the whole way. Steep mountains. You’re supposed to be smart. So, we’re out there, yes, walking, but covering some fantastic terrain, up and down slopes where he had to practically slide down on his rump and I got to pretend I was the Woman from Snowy River. And then we hit this wide open park. Wide open but filled with frightening obstacles like snow and mud and puddles and brush and rocks and sudden holes in the ground and drops offs in the seeming smooth terrain… And I ask him to run.

I suppose he really thought he should give this one his all. So he gave it to me.

Part of my job is helping riders feel secure on the trail. “If you horse ever takes off or feels in any way out of control, it’s real easy: just pull on one rein and turn the horse to the side, tight and quick.” I say that all the time, all summer long, and have for plenty of years. It’s always worked. For me, and for them.

Well, tell you what, it didn’t work on this day. Try as I might to pull that horse’s head to the side to come to a stop, not to mention just a bit of control, it didn’t work. He didn’t feel it. Perhaps he forgot I was there. On a technical level here, folks, I was riding in a “loping hackamore.” No bit. Nothing more than a soft nose piece and cotton reins. Just a little more than the halter I trained this boy with. A tool that fools a horse into believing you actually have control, when what you really have is a well mannered horse. I always figured that was enough. On this particular day, at this particular instance it was not. I swear he didn’t feel it at all.

For what seemed like a looooong time, but was probably just a matter of minutes, that skinny little boy ran around that mountainside with me firm on his back, eyes tearing from the wind, one arm pulling desperately on the rein and the other above my head, trying to prevent my hat from flying back, mighty glad for a good seat and outstanding footing from this little barefooted fellow. I was thinking how crazy we must have looked if some tourist was up on the mountain looking down at us running full speed ahead in some random track about this hillside.

Funny, when we’re at a walk, he often stumbles. At a full out gallop, he was smooth as silk. Lightening reflexes. I remember seeing puddles and snow piles and gofer holes and ravines all flying into vision and thinking, “oh boy, this is it…” but he’d manage to swerve around or over or through, just in the nick of time. Impressive.

When I finally did resume control and managed to get his head around and his feet stopped, he was calm and relaxed. Instantly over it. Over whatever got into him where when I asked him to run, he did, thank you, but… he forgot what the word “stop” meant. He wanted to run. There was no fear motivating him, nothing spooked him, nothing wrong. I think he did it because it felt good. Isn’t that what I wanted? Isn’t that what I asked for? He’s an Arab. He wanted to fly!

I never had a horse take off on me like this, and I can’t say I’m very comfortable with it. I was, for a matter of minutes, out of control. And yes, as a horse rider and trainer, we say it’s all about control.

I’d say I’m too old for this. But truth is, it was exhilarating. But foolish, I know. My rule of thumb: never ride a horse over whom you have no control. Well, I’ve got some, but I saw my weakness. We were lacking in a few control issues. Communication issues, perhaps. We’re back in school to polish up these aspects. Ground work. In cases like this, we hope ground work really is the basis for a solid foundation.

The snow and deepening mud postponed our running for the past few days. I think the trails may be dry enough soon. I will find no further excuse.

And yes, he’s named Flying Crow for a good reason. Careful what you name your horse.

Elementary School - Working with the Weanlings

2009-10-19T12:07:00.003-06:00

Onto the weanlings.

Throughout the first few months of the foal’s life, there’s a lot for the youngster to learn, and a lot of opportunities for us to teach. This is an easy time to build a solid foundation for a lifetime of learning and working well with people.

For the weanling, this is a time of newness and adventure, of being confident enough to start to walk away from mom, play with other colts, and interact with humans and the world around them on their own, not just following in mothers footsteps. They are bold and brazen on one hand, and quick to run back to mom on the other.

The earliest we have separated colts from their dams is at four months of age. I prefer later, about 6-8 months old. It’s easier on everyone then. Moms will wean their babies on their own at 8-9 months of age. Ideally, I let them do it, and they do a good job. They’re ready to get that baby off them, and are preparing for the next. It’s a natural and easy progression, but it’s not always “convenient” and doesn’t fit into our human schedules, so we have to adjust for our own needs from time to time.

So, “weanling” is a relative term. In my book, it’s when they’re older than a foal, and younger than a yearling – any time between 4-9 months of age when they normally or naturally would be weaned. This should be a time filled with good experiences to encourage trust of humans, safety in handling, understanding of their place in the herd, and confidence and curiosity in the world around them.

In addition to specific “school” lessons, opportunities for the weanling to learn and grow present themselves regularly. Lead or ride your mare, around the barn yard, around the ranch, around the mountain… where ever you are there are opportunities… and allow the weanling to follow, to become exposed to everything – motor bikes, trucks, road, ATVs, dogs, cats, chickens, bridges, water crossings, tarps, sights, sounds, smells… Just following the mares around our guest ranch exposes our colts on a daily basis to more than I could possibly and creatively dream up. In addition, ideally I’ll take the mares out on the trail and expose the weanling to even more. When following a calm and polite mother, the youngster will follow with ease and confidence up trails, across water crossings, through the woods, across roads.

All this, and then we take time for proper schooling.

Onto Elementary School
I don’t have a set schedule – it is dependant on when we find or make the time – but some time when the youngster is between 4-9 months old, I try to take three days in a row to work with the colts. Consistency is key to working with the colts, so I make sure I can take time for three times, three days in a row, and do the same lesson, the same way, each time. Ideally, each time we progress.

We treat the weanlings and yearlings as we would any green horse, and introduce lessons in the same manner. Each lesson is taught in stages. Start soft. Every time. That’s how you teach softness. Often, I will progress to firm. Remember how a boss mare will move the horses, first by looking, then pinning her ears, and after that, she might just lunge forward and bite the other horse to make him move. Well, I’m not big on biting, but I will be firm enough to get the results I want. And just continuing to ask over and over again “nicely,” well, I call that nagging. So does your horse.

So I say to myself as I’m working a young horse, “Ask nicely, then ask firmly, then TELL!” If I ask, I mean it. I don’t want to ask a second time, though in the early stages of teaching anything, I will have to. I’ll progress from my ASK to my TELL more slowly in the beginning. After the horse gets it, my progression speeds up. Ideal, I expect instant results. That’s what we need on the trail for us, and with any discipline for you. Ask and then wait around a while for the results: that spells danger. And certainly, I don’t want to nag. It’s that “fair but firm” thing. It works. Horses get it.

In everything I do with the young ones, I keep the boss mare as my role model on one hand, but remember I’m a human on the other. We can learn from the horse, but we’ll never be a horse, and we won’t fool them we are. But we can work with what we have, which is (or should be) understanding of the horse, and leadership that comes with being a human. This is what we strive for. A balance, summed up in these two words: positive leadership.

What we’re teaching here is good habits, good manners, good ground control, good handling. From the human’s perspective, of course, but it is this which builds the solid foundation for all our future work together. It boils down to establishing leadership (yes, it is a matter of control, but I have no interest in riding a horse over whom I have no control!), and teaching a few basic skills.

One book for specific ideas on working with weanlings I’d recommend is John Lyon’s “Bringing up Baby.” There are some fun and useful exercises in there, and he teaches the lessons to the human very well. My favorite is his first one – teaching the colt to move, then turn and face you. Rather handy…

As a quick reminder, for each of the “skills” you teach, be sure to do it on both sides. What one side learns, the other may not. Teach both sides the same lesson for a balanced horse.

The Skills Lessons we teach our weanlings is like grade school for us human. Combined with the chance to run around, room to grown, opportunities to learn to move, where to place their feet, and social skills in their horse herd, these are the basics of their future training no matter what discipline. These lessons are taught to the weanling, repeated for the yearling, and reviewed for the 2-year old who then moves on with further training (we’ll go into that in a separate post).

With each lesson, go slow. If your colt is uneasy at first, approach and retreat. This gives the horse confidence and trust in you. That’s big. Horses don’t have the agendas we have. Don’t be so focused on your human goals that you fail to see the slightest changes within the horse. Reward those changes. And the best reward is: releasing or relief. Sometimes that even means leaving the horse alone for a few minutes!

The Skills Lessons:

1. Touch – The weanling should allow and feel comfortable with human touch all over, head to toe. We start slow if need be, though for most imprint-worked and flooded foals, this part is usually fun and easy. It feels good!
2. Grooming – allow for a brush and curry comb all over, head to toe, and stand still for it because if you go away, I’ll stop, and this feels too good to stop! I don’t want to tie a horse for grooming, but expect them to stand and wait while I brush them because it feels so good. Again, go slow, approach and retreat, let them figure this one out on their own and in due time. I get a kick out of this because you can tell the difference between the horses I have raised, and those I have bought as adults. Mine come running up in pasture and vie for my attention and their turn when I head out there with a brush.
3. Halter – it’s not a scary thing, but it may seem so at first. Use the halter like a brush and rub them all over, then around their head, and then slipping on and off until it can be left on and tied or buckled. Allow it to feel good. Work on taking it on and off regularly so the colt knows that, too, is a simple process, and they are not stuck with the darn thing on forever. (We NEVER leave halters on colts after we done working with them. An unattended colt with a halter is an accident waiting to happen. Please don’t let it happen.)
4. Leading – slowly teaching to give to pressure to one side and then the other. Forward motion takes a while. Start with the gentle side pull, and be happy with one step at a time. A gentle pull, then slowly add tension the side. The colt may pull back at first. Rather than fight it, go with it, trying to maintain constant pressure until the horse figures out to go into the pressure, and step towards the pull of the lead. If (when) the colt pulls back, allow yourself to go with him without putting so much pressure that the colt flips over. Start with just a gentle pull on the halter. He’ll figure it out, and put his head to that side, maybe take a step. Give him an instant release to tell him that’s the right answer. There’s no rush. You’ll be leading the horse for a life time. Teach them softness now. This same softness and feel will be the foundation for communication with bridle and reins.
5. Tying – this one comes later, after leading is mastered. The horse that understands and respects the feel of the rope and halter and goes into it rather than pulls away will be ready to learn to tie. Start by holding the rope around a post, then by loosely coiling it and leaving the horse there (near mama or a friend) for fifteen minutes, then a half hour, then eventually an hour. Increase time and tie strength slowly and safely. Whatever you do, don’t injure a colt by tying him hard and fast before he understands what that means. Some folks use inner tubes and all kinds of fancy tricks. Try by just teaching leading first. Take your time, take the time it takes, and the horse learns to respect the pressure on the lead and halter. Learning to give to pressure should be enough to teach this lesson safely.
6. Feet work – each time we work with the colt, we brush down to their feet and get the horse comfortable to touch, then comfortable with lifting, then holding, then tapping, then rasping. Watch your timing here and try to release before the horse pulls his foot away. Slowly increase your timing but without getting into a wrestling match. Remember, our goal is to have it all be a positive experience. Having their feet held should not be an unpleasant or traumatic experience. Your farrier or trimmer will thank you for teaching this lesson.
7. Gentle longing – the colt should not be run. Keep it mellow and do this at a walk. But after they have learned the lesson of leading, you can teach them to lead around you. Start by getting your youngster leading. Then walk with him, keep him moving without pressure whenever possible. Strive for a loose lead! I often lift the rope in the direction I’m asking the colt to go. If he does step forward, , I may put slight pressure on the rope. If he still does not, I make a clicking sound. Finally, I’ll swing the end of the rope behind him to “encourage” him. For most colts, this will be enough for them to get the picture, but a few may still stand and wait until the end of that rope gets closer and closer and finally touches their behind. Reward the simplest try! Instantly release all pressure when you have the forward motion you are looking for. Even just one step at first. Then repeat each step, each time. Don’t assume the horse won’t get it and go straight for swinging your rope. Give him time, he’ll get it! Be clear, and he’ll really understand.
8. Trailer loading – after you’ve been working on the gentle longing for a while, the colt gets your signals that when you point the rope, he is to follow. Some colts will follow that lead right into the trailer first time. Some, most, may take a while. Go through your stages just like in #7. Each time, start soft and increase pressure. Do this in circles outside the trailer first. Then maybe have fun with it and do it through a barn stall, a gate, get creative, build the colts self confidence and trust in you, and understanding of what you’re asking of him. Then move toward the trailer. If he doesn’t step up with the uncomfortable pressure behind him, quickly start over from stage one. No need to constantly increase pressure nor to give him a break (unless you need one). Just try again and again. Or step away and remind them what you’re asking in an environment that might not be as scary. They’ll get it. You may loose patience before they do, but stick with this slowly and sanely. I’ll take all the time I need to here, and sometimes it may be an hour or longer before the colt steps in comfortably. Then I’ll ask him to step in and out several times. Each time is rewarded by letting him rest, petting him, telling him how proud you are of him (if you’re one of us who constantly talk to our horses). This too sets up a lifetime of good habits. It’s worth taking an afternoon off to teach this one calmly, patiently, pleasantly.
9. Desensitizing or “Sacking Out” – with every lesson, do some work on introducing objects or feels or sounds or sights to your horse to get him more familiar with the unfamiliar, and learning how to comfortably handle the unexpected. I like to make it a game. Bring in ropes, blankets, plastic bags, tarps, saddles, slickers, clippers – funny things! Make them fun, let them feel good, take your time, and wait for your colt to be comfortable, even bored with each new object. Go slow, approach and retreat, allow him to put his nose on it. I don’t know why they always have to do that, but you know, they do.

With each lesson, strive for an experience for your colt that results in his feeling of enjoying people, looking forward to learning, and increasing his knowledge and confidence. Each lesson should end on a positive note. Forget about schedules and goals – these ones will last a life time. Take the time it takes. Make it a positive experience for the colt.

My goal in working with the young ones is to help grow a confident horse that respects my leadership, understands my requests, and enjoys my company. I want to do my best to ensure safe handling, no matter what arises, and establish a solid foundation for future ground work and work in saddle. We strive to have our lessons with the colts be a positive experience for them, teaching them good manners, preparing for a good future together, and enjoying time together right now.

Not quite fox hunting, but the closest I've come.

2009-10-17T07:36:00.003-06:00

So we’re out there riding, my husband and I, no guests, no packs, nothing to slow us down, and so we run. It’s the end of the season; we let loose. Across the open meadow we urge our horses onward, upwards towards the trees, over uneven ground of flat rocks and drainages and sudden shift and hollows in the ground beneath us. I am watching the terrain ahead, trying to help guide my stallion through this wild obstacle course. Silly me; he does not need my help. His vision is lightening quick, senses alight. All he needs is my balanced seat as he maneuvers across the open hillside full speed ahead.

Suddenly I hear my husband calling. “Up to the right,” he is saying. With wind in my eyes I manage a glimpse and see the big bull elk and the following harem, mothers and young ones and another bull behind them, skirting along the tree line in the direction we are heading.

I pull up the stallion to a halt as the elk cross before us at a deliberate but unhurried run, leaving but not panicked. They tend to smell the horses before the humans. The threat is minimized. It’s the middle of the afternoon and not even hunting season. I swear the elk know.

But now my stallion smells them, sees them, and there are more of them than I thought. I group of cow elk that were bedded in the willows just to our left slowly raise and trot off to join the retreating band.

My steed snorts, with each breath a powerful exhale. His tail is raise, neck swollen and arched, shoulders trembling beneath me as he watches these animals move out before him. Why? What is he thinking? We have run up on elk before; he sees them, smells them, spooks them off quite regularly. But this time it is different. That is what he tells me, what he believes, and he remains an alert fiery ball beneath me. I wonder if he will explode.

We stand and watch as the herd disappears silently into the woods from where they came, leaving one with a question of the existence of the vision. But it was there, and the stud still smells them.

He does not explode, but steps into a quick walk as we turn and return down the mountain. The fox hunt has ended. We treed the wily critters!

Kindergarten: Working with the newborn foal

2009-10-13T13:32:00.004-06:00

Continued thoughts on working with our young ones. Starting from day one.

This isn’t “pre school.” No, it’s the real deal, but you can start the schooling on the foal’s very first day of life. No messing around here, there’s work to be done!

I believe it is of benefit to horse and handler to do imprint work, be it the specific work of Imprint Training taught by Dr. Robert Miller, or any handling, touching and lessons inspired by his teachings. At the very least, we flood our foals with human handling, which makes “catching” or “taming” older horses an unnecessary, archaic and often traumatic experience we can do without.

Spending time working with our foals on the first days of their lives is time well spent, like money in the bank. We’re finding a high percentage of training can be accomplished in those first few days. Teaching the horse to be comfortable with people, respect ones space, remain calm when restrained, have their face, feet and entire body comfortable being handled, give to pressure, follow a lead, and be desensitized to “scary objects” like plastic bags, slickers, saddle blankets, clippers, ropes and more.

But the work doesn’t stop there. To create a positive “imprint” that lasts a lifetime, we must continue lessons, or at the very least, continue contact and handling, on a regular basis through the first month of the foal’s life. Again, our summers are such that I’m not always able to spend all the time I’d like for doing complete imprint work. I don’t have scientific research backing me here, but we’ve found we have just as much positive results in raising horses that we handle a great deal throughout their first month as we have with those we’ve done actual imprint lessons on the first two days of the foals life.

The biggest benefit to this work – it is far simpler than the long term benefits of a more personable and respectful horse. It is that handling the foal is safer and easier. For me, and for the foal. I’ve had enough traumas with foals in the past few years to tell you I do need to handle them. The last thing either of us needs is additional stress during medical emergencies.

However, I’ve also found that after all our time and efforts on the first few days of life, there is a natural aspect to the horse that will shy from human touch, despite imprint work, at sometime between 4 days and 4 weeks old. I try not to take it personally, try not to despair, and try not to give up either. With patience and persistence, we get our colts over this. Or, truth be told, sometimes we’ve been too busy, come back a week later, and the little fellow can’t stay away from us.

We live at a guest ranch and outfit with our horses. We consider it the horse’s job to accept human touch, and respect human space. This can only be achieved with regular handling, and positive lessons. Not just the first few days, but continuing on for the first few months, followed by refresher courses and fine tuning throughout their lives. Raising colts on a guest ranch (and before that, a kids camp) in plain site of the guests and cabins and all the activities and going-ons is a sure fire way to get the horses used to people and people stuff. Now respecting people, that’s another story.

Respect does not come natural for a foal with a human. Fear does, and this should be overcome with positive early handling. But respect still needs to be considered. Our guests will treat the horses like a puppy, and love on them, and that’s great. Believe me, I think it’s awesome that our horses learn to adore human contact, touch and attention and I have my guests to thank for good deal of this. But our guests can not and should not be expected to train the horse and to instill respect of human handlers. That’s my job, and sometimes it doesn’t happen until after the guests have left… that’s when I have time to work with the young ones.

How do I do this? For the immediate concerns, like a foal that nibbles (I call this biting) or kicks or steps over you or drives into you: I’ll be physically firm with a protective elbow to block the foal. Have you ever seen a mare tell her foal he’s nursed too hard? Yup, she nips his behind. He can’t see her – his head is under her belly – so putting her ears back as a warning is a waste of time. And her nip, it is never vicious – never broken skin or even left a scratch or removed hair! But it’s enough to say to the little fellow, “Hey, don’t do that!”

And for every elbow, there are plenty of kind and gentle pats with my hands. My hands should become, in the foals mind, a good thing. And that is lesson I hope will last a lifetime. I have bought horses that shy from human hands. Perhaps this is from ill handling or lack of handling. But even they can learn the lessons of the babies, and learn to love my touch, and still respect my space.

Here's one last thought to put out there that just came to mind as I read this over: I can teach the horse to love my touch and respect my space, but I can not teach the horse to love and respect you, can I? Each horse is an individual. Likewise, are each of us. The horses may know this better than we do...

Time for the young ones

2009-10-11T15:58:00.003-06:00

How quickly they grow… and go.

Last week saw two of our weanlings heading down the road and off the mountain, to their new home and life. They’re now in the lap of luxury, in a stall with bedding (what’s that?), fed grain (and what’s that?), and introduced to the grooming stall (now really, they must be saying, what is THAT?). It reads something like the Hillbillies move to the Big City.

They are horses. They are both smart and adaptable. They will be fine. Easy for me to say, as these boys are in the best of hands in their new world. Bonus points: they have each other. The pasture playmates get to grow up into the show world together. Pretty cool deal.

Between prepping these weanlings for their journey into their new life, and finally having time to work the yearlings and 2-year olds, working with young horses is a focus for me this time of year. All summer long, I have this on my "to do" list, but it never gets done then. Never. But now is a good time... Quick! Before the snow flies!

In taking the time to work with the horses, it’s also important for me that I take a good look at and recap the lessons we do with our young ones. Figured it would be a good personal review and possibly interesting info for anyone out there doing the same at this point, if I share with you how we ideally teach and work with our young horses. Of course, such is life, it’s not always ideal – there are times things come up and we find we’ve missed a session or a season entirely. But in the following posts, I’ll share with you the lesson plan we strive for.

These boys had their Weanling Classes the week before heading out. Leading them away from their mothers and to the truck was smooth, and loading them into a new trailer was reasonably uneventful. We like that.

So, I’ll start by explaining why we work with the young ones. Well, I’m about 120 pounds wet. But even if I weighed twice as much, it would still be safer and easier for me to (a) teach a small horse rather than a large horse; and (b) have my horses learn ground manners at a young age so that any time I need to handle them, let alone work with them, it will be far less painful and more stress-free on us all. I figure it’s pretty logical to assume it’s easier to handle a weanling or young colt than a 1200 pound horse. Their young minds are as capable of absorbing the lessons. We refrain from any excessive pounding and running around for weanlings and yearlings, and only put a few short rides on a two year old at the earliest. I see no sense in rushing the training and getting them working ASAP only to limit their life due to the abuse of too much pressure on their growing bones and joints. I would rather wait a year or two and have the horse around for many years longer.

I know there are plenty of cowboys out there who believe in letting horses run free, then rounding up the two year old and “breaking” them. Well, that’s fine for them, and when you've got 30 or 300 young ones to train each year, probably the most efficient method (though perhaps with todays horse market in mind, fewer ranches will continue raising that many). But I’ll stick with my way. We don’t have to “break” them this way. Training is a natural progression, handling safer, and the first ride, well, uneventful.

Anyway, this is what works for us. I know everyone has their own view of the ideal way to raise a horse, just like we all differ with our opinions on what is best for our children. Is there a right and wrong way? Not really, with few exceptions: anything that endangers or even impedes the well being of either horse or child is never acceptable.

I'd love to hear from you - your experiences, advice, suggesions, stories, what has worked for you... and what has not. In the meanwhile, more notes on schooling to follow…

Why we love horses

2009-10-09T20:19:00.002-06:00

Why do we love horses?
There is something wild and free.
They stir us like the wind.
We let down our hair
Untamed

Stripped of prim and fussy ways.
They touch us silently and mysteriously within.
Stir up these unsettled emotions
Or settle us down deep in our soul.

Ground us like the soil we walk together upon.
At times disturbing, racing, dancing, moving forward in a windswept blur.
Other times soothing, peaceful, warm and earthy.
Soft hair against our cheek
Their musky scent in our nose
An enchanting impression deep in our heart.
They allow us to let go
Then offer to take us there.

Trying to be brave

2009-10-08T19:54:00.004-06:00

Truth is, I was scared. But I had a job to do. So in the middle of the snowstorm, I saddled up my little stud horse and headed up the mountain, just the two of us, to check on a fellow outfitters camp in the high country. Four hours later, after a lot of slipping and sliding up to nearly tree line and back, my horse and I returned safe and sound, and truly exhilarated in a way, as I chatted on and on to my husband who came to meet me and help unsaddle my sweaty steed.

Sure, I have ridden alone before. And yes, I’ve ridden in the snow and mud before. And of course, I rode this little stud before. But the combination of the three together was, I considered, more than we could handle. No, I suppose I believed we could. The more I contemplated, the more I understood we both were ready; we both needed the challenge, could handle the task at hand. Probably. So why did I have this terrible stomach ache as I started to get my snow pants and down jacket on and ready for the ride?

I was trying to be brave. All I felt was scared.

Reaching beyond, extending oneself. Stepping outside ones comfort zone. For some, these things come easy. For me, they are labored and worked on, considered from all angles, and stressed about indefinitely until the knot in my stomach can no longer be ignored.

Only by doing it will I feel better.

And so, I push myself, and have learned (or at least, am learning) not to put these things off. Only through facing my fears can I overcome them. No matter how hard I have tried, and I’ve tried pretty hard, they won’t go away on their own.

A roller coaster ride, life and riding both, aren’t they? This year has been a good one for overcoming many fears with my riding and horses. And I suppose, building those fears took years as well. From the ground up, so to say. Starting with my first time being completely bucked and then bucked off again, clear out of the saddle and onto the ground. This shattered the safety I felt on a horses back. I had ridden for years and never been hurt. Ignorance was bliss, you know? I had this false idyllic bubble about me, fragile without knowing, just ready to burst with the slightest poke. And when it burst, it left me not only on the ground and in the dirt, but questioning, always wondering if it would happen again, what else could go wrong, what if, why???

It broke my trust of my “partners.” I have finally regained this trust. I no longer assume a horse would never buck me off, but I have learned to read them better, and ride even better as well. I have learned my fallibility and my faults. This does not mean we can overcome all our shortcomings and be strong, ready and prepared for every horse “incident.” But is does increase our ability to handle what may arise as we work with our horses. And since I do just that, work with them, I did not have the luxury, the excuse of waiting until I felt more comfortable. At least not all the time, though plenty of times, yes. Just ask my husband, who had to ride the rank horses time and time again first before I’d get on.

And so by having to push myself to step up to bat (or into the saddle in my case), I also learned that the best way for me to overcome my fears was to face them. A little bit of “Get over it.” A touch of “Just do it.” And a healthy dose of “Cowgirl up, sister. It’s time to ride.”

Saddle in the... snow.

2009-10-05T12:00:00.002-06:00

It makes doing it in the rain seem so easy. I will try to remember that and try to not complain too loudly next time I find myself laden with hat and slicker and boots all dripping like a gutter as I try to get my ponies ready for a day of work.

But the snow? Although it makes for beautiful pictures, I can’t say it makes for a pleasant or comfortable day. The first hour is fine. Beyond that, well, it’s kind of like gloves. Three pairs later, each one frozen and soaked through… It doesn’t feel so good. You start to question why you’re out there. Well, eight hours later it’s the same thing, head to toe. You’re frozen and soaked through, no matter how many layers you put on.

But… I wouldn’t miss it for the world! It is times like this you are happy to be alive, invigorated, aroused, and crazy as it may be, loving life and glad to be out there in it, truly living! You’re appreciative for good horses, motivated by the awe inspiring wild mountains around you, and glad for a good hat (more on that later). You learn to appreciate these simple things we may otherwise take for granted, or not test out completely. Like: just how water proof is that new jacket? And how much do we really trust our horses?

All this is so much easier said right here and now, of course, from the comfort of my warm sofa by the wood stove, as the snow continues to fall…outside.

And about those horses: It’s days like yesterday - a day when we would have preferred the comfort of our cabin, or at most, heading out for an hour or two little ride in the freshly falling snow - that we learn what a good relationship is all about. We test our trust. We have to. Our hands are so cold and dysfunctional that we tie our reins together, loop them over the horn, and let go. Our horses guide us. They find the trail through the deepening snow and gusts of blinding whiteness ahead. Their footing is slick beneath them, beneath us, but they lower their heads, intensify their focus, quicken their pace, though remain calm and even of gait, and find their way along the precarious edge of the trail.

I wonder if the snow would soften the fall should we slip off.

They do not slip off. In fact, they barely slip at all. They know there is work to be done, and they are ready to do it. Yesterday, our horses cared for us. I am glad for that. We care for them so often. I believe they appreciate it. And when we needed them, for a job in the high country that could not wait or be put off until the weather cleared, they rose to the occasion. They stepped up to bat for us.

I am proud of them. This makes riding in the snow… good.

Part IX in the series on Horse Packing How-To: Setting up camp

2009-09-30T16:54:00.003-06:00

The first tid bit of advice, coming from my recent experience of doing it alone: work together! Share the work load!

Usually, it’s the three of us (my husband, son, and self) and we all take our respective jobs. It is pretty much the same when just the three of us are out there, or if we have a group of clients we are taking on a pack trip. After unsaddling and turning out the horses, a job which always comes first, the next order of business tends to be to string up a large tarp. The tarp is double duty – it serves as a mantie or cover for the panniers on the pack saddle as well. At camp, the tarp will serve as “camp kitchen,” and sometimes, all we need for sleeping quarters. In stormy weather, it’s a good place to unpack the panniers and sort out the camp supplies, keeping gear (and yourself) relatively dry.

Our two quickest methods for hanging the tarp: One is by stringing a lash rope from one tree to another, using the cinches for tree savers. Run the tarp length wise, centered across the rope, then string out and down all four corners to neighboring trees or to stakes in the ground, creating an instant gable shaped roof line. Method two is stretching and tying off diagonally opposite corners to trees, up high enough to make a comfortable and workable ridge line, then tying off the two other opposite corners to stakes in the ground. This way is fast and easy, though your tarp may not be as high. Even works quite well for one person, as I learned recently.

After the tarp shelter is secured, then the other assorted tasks can be delegated. One of us gathers wood and water, digs a fire pit, starts the fire, and purifies water if need be. One of us sets up the tent, if we are using one, or lays out the sleeping pads and bags and pulls out camp chairs (a great luxury and one of the finest reasons for selecting horse camping instead of back packing!). And one of us unpacks the groceries and starts the meal. I can pretty well guarantee by this time, we’re hungry and tired.

As a single camper, this can seem like quite a lot of work after a day in the saddle, as I learned. However, when we work together, like with so many things in life, we make light work of it. It’s just one small “chore” for each of us, and a good way to stretch out after a day horseback.

And before you know it, camp is set, we’re sitting comfortably by the warm fire, eating a good meal, and enjoying the incomparable view of the wilds in the evening in the high country.

Obstacles along the trail

2009-09-25T17:35:00.001-06:00

I learned the hard way about solo horse packing. However, the best thing I learned was that it’s really not so hard.

The biggest obstacle is, of course, fear.

Fear of runaways. What if my horses leave me, run for home, and I get stranded out miles from a road on a trail I probably won’t see anyone on for a day or so? What I found out was that after the first night of being tied up next to my tent and being let out to graze at first light, just the two of them quietly eating next to me sitting on a log with my hot coffee in hand, was that only through trials and traumas like this do we really bond. My horses were there with me, in body and mind. Perhaps it was survival. They were going to stick with me. By the second night, in a new camp, I allowed one to graze untethered. When he became frightened, he ran back to me. I learned to trust them. They were trusting me.

Fear of bears. Probably the most common question folks ask. And truth be known, I slept with a weapon by my sleeping bag, just because of the fears others have instilled in me with these questions. Around these parts, a loud noise (and I can be loud) is enough to scare a bear away. I have done that. I have lived in bear country for years, know how rare they choose a human confrontation, and have even chased a bear away by myself. I should know better than to be afraid of wildlife. Respectful and understanding, yes. Paranoid, no thank you.

Fear of being lonely or bored. Well, I’m a solitary sort. I don’t know if I’ve been bored for more than a fleeting moment in my entire adult life. And loneliness is a state of mind. Alone need not be lonely. I had a loving husband and son back home. That is a security blanket to wrap around any time loneliness may poke its ugly face in the “alone” picture. In the meanwhile, I cherish time alone. And besides: when you’re with horses, you are never alone.

Fear of getting lost. Perhaps this could be a true fear if I was in unknown territory. But I had been on this trail twice in my life. It was not entirely new. More important, I know these mountains well enough from years of working and exploring with my boys. And most important, after spending enough time off the beaten trail with my husband and son, I’ve learned enough about survival that “lost” I suppose is a “more or less” deal, kind of like alone/loneliness. Taking an alternate or indirect route might be a better way to call it. But lost? By now I better be able to find my way around. I suppose this is where preparation, planning, and experience come in. Believe me, I’m not trying to brag here. My experience is still minimal compared to many. But I was not heading out unprepared. I knew what I was doing, and where I was going. More or less.

Fear of people. The stereotypical back country crazy man? My fear of people is tested enough back home with my neighbors. On the trail, however, folks are pretty awesome and friendly. As a rule, I stop and talk to everyone I see. There are some neat folks out there. I try to be “an ambassador for the sport” at each opportunity which arises. I think we all should be. However, the opportunity didn’t arise much. I ran into one man on a motorbike on the first day, and a couple backpacking on the third day. They were, as I expected, great encounters.

Now, what did turn out to be the hardest part above and beyond the fear in my own mind was the physical work. Doing the work that I am used to sharing with three: me, my husband, and our son. Going alone in this respect was HARD. Setting up and breaking down camp, lifting the load on the pack horse, lashing down the load alone, preparing meals and cleaning, gathering water... Riding was easy. This other stuff was hard. I learned a few tricks, and a few things I’d do different next time. First, I want a small pack horse! My days of lifting a fully loaded pannier onto a 15.2 hand horse are OVER. Well, truly, I don’t think I could ever lift 60 pounds alone that high. So, I have these fantasies of a couple of little horses or mules… no more than 13 hands high. In the meanwhile, I learned I could load just a fraction of the panniers first. Then lift that small load on the pack saddle. And then stuff the rest of my load into the panniers in place on the saddle, standing on my tippie toes, or on a stump or rock if available. I didn’t bring a scale, but weighed my contents before leaving the ranch, and kept track of what went in each pannier. I actually kept a list, and this worked well for repacking evenly each time.

Setting up and breaking down camp, including pitching tent, stringing up a tarp, gathering fire wood and water, covering the saddles and gear, etc. took one hour in the evening and one hour in the morning. I reckon next time I’d try an easier tent. Simplify! But I don’t know how to save much time there… except share the work load!

And tending the horses takes about a total of ½ hour in the evening and ½ hour in the morning. I wouldn’t skimp on their care. As they’d graze in the evening, I’d brush them out and double check for any wounds or sores (of which there were none). My one mistake here was that I didn’t pack them any treats. There is plenty of good high mountain grass out there; they did not go hungry. But the extra treat also represents extra care and loving, and my horses would have appreciated that. Goodness knows they deserved it.

See? It was not so hard, and will be even easier… next time!

Going alone

2009-09-21T10:33:00.004-06:00

I don’t know why I did it, except for some ceaseless, burning voice inside me, whispering, almost nagging like the wind that I had to go.

In part, I did it for myself. In part for my son. In part for my husband. And a part for anyone else who might be intrigued or inspired by what some middle aged woman born in Jersey might do after living in the wide open wild mountains this long.

It was not a big deal, not a long trip. I planned on four days and three nights. I completed it in three days, two nights. And during that short time, I accomplished all I set out to do. I had all the adventure I set out to find. I achieved all the goals I made for myself. And by returning early, showed my husband and son how important they are to me. Brownie points.

It was certainly not about getting away from them. It was just about proving I could do it myself. All by myself. Something I used to always feel I could do before I got married (that was later in life – I was 35). Something I used to feel before my “little boy” surpassed me in height. Now six feet tall and still growing, I surprise myself to hear how often I ask him to help; how regularly I leave the hard, high, heavy work for him to handle; how much I turn to him now when chances are, I could do it myself.

And then there is the issue of proving oneself. To oneself, to ones family. Not so much to prove strength, ability, independence. No, it is far more than that. More important, I feel, was that I wanted to prove to my son that with proper preparation combined with confidence in ones self, a hunger for adventure, and a trust in faith, in whatever direction ones faith may follow… that one can do anything. We can go anywhere. We can be anything we want. Even some crazy woman’s version of Jeremiah Johnson, just for a few days.

My faith is in my horses. My mountain. My boys. My self, including body and mind strong enough to get me through alone. Mother Earth and her wilds, her wildlife. This is my temple. And so, in a way, I set off to a sanctuary, both within and around me.

It was just a pack trip, a solitary journey covering 40 miles in the mountains we call our Big Back Yard. A distance my boys could cover within hours on motor bike or snowmobile (if allowed into the Wilderness…). A horseshoe shaped path around our ranch. Just me, my riding horse, and my pack horse.

No big deal, I suppose. Yet I feel bigger for it. I feel as if I climbed my own Everest. That’s nothing I’ve wanted to do, but this, a solitary pack trip, was. And I did it.

I tell my husband we can not wait for change. We have to create it. If it comes unannounced, we learn to ride the waves. But in the meanwhile, instead of sitting back on the shore and waiting for the big one, we can dive in and enjoy. Change is all around us, with every ebb and flow. It is what helps us see the magnificence in the sun rise, the beauty in the evening light, the joy in every day, as every day is new, and we too are as new as the hour. If we let ourselves. If we remind ourselves. And sometimes, if we challenge ourselves.

A DVD Review of "The Linda Tellington-Jones Series: Riding With Awareness"

2009-09-02T18:18:00.003-06:00

Not being one to leave the mountain very often, I have learned a great deal at home from books and DVDs. They have been my horse mentors. All of different names, styles, philosophies, teachings… and from each, I have taken what works for me and my horses, at whatever level I find myself learning at… or stuck at.

After a summer of theory in practice, but little time to sit and watch a DVD, my boys are off to town (getting me, or rather my horses, more winter hay) and I found myself with time… I chose to watch “The Linda Tellington-Jones Series: Riding With Awareness” DVD. This comes with special thanks to Kim from Enlightened Horsemanship Through Touch. Thanks to her Blogging Contest earlier this year, I was able to receive and view this DVD.

Let me start by saying that although I have heard of Tellington-Jones, and the T-Touch for many years, I have not read her books nor seen her speak first hand. From there, I can tell you, I learned it is time I did…

The majority of the material covered in this DVD is not basic, introductory information about the TTEAM approach, philosophy and method. It is assumed (and suggested) that the viewer has essential knowledge of Tellington teachings. I did not, however was still able to get a good deal out of this DVD. In fact, I was so inspired by the bits and pieces I could put together from her very clear and simple teachings, combined with my previous horsemanship knowledge, that after viewing mid-way, I couldn’t resist running out, saddling up my little Arab stallion and trying some new stuff with him. To great result. Then after watching the second half, I can’t wait to saddle up again tomorrow to test out more new methods.

Her teaching made sense to me. The fundamental premise she began with was the statement that everything you do should be as comfortable as possible for you and your horse. If it’s uncomfortable for either one, we (more than likely: me) are doing something wrong. I fully agree, however I do not always figure out the right way on my own.

Her section on practicing hand movements with the reins on an innocent victim (her sister) were so clear that although I could not find a willing victim, I could see the point Linda was making, and you just sort of “feel” the right way as she’s talking and showing you, if you pay attention. Likewise, her simple demonstration of the posting trot, again using her sister here standing up from a chair, was one of those “Duh, why didn’t I think of that before?” moments.

I do not (to refer back to a comment from Jane of the Literary Horse) drink anyone’s Kool Aid, but try to take what works for me, my horses, and my somewhat unusual circumstances of high mountain outfitting with a positive approach to horsemanship. And although I do believe everyone out there has something to teach you if you’re open to listen and learn, there are some people you can see have obvious and great knowledge, skill and insight when it comes to riding, horses and horse handling. I could see Tellington-Jones was one such person, and that I would be smart to take the time to listen to her. I may not want to follow her or any teacher’s direction 100%, but a good teacher I would imagine leaves room for the student to take what works for them and their horses, and put new theory into practice.

For example, although I believe all horses should accept and understand a variety of bits, I prefer riding and refining my little stud with a hackamore, a traditional rawhide bosal and horsehair mecate. Many of the same principles Linda teaches for her roller leverage bit worked wonderfully well with the hackamore.

Well, a detailed review for those already knowledgeable of Tellington’s TTEAM solutions this is not. But for those of us “green” to her teachings yet with a basic knowledge of horsemanship skills, it’s a good step forward in learning, and a good start to understanding the T-Touch and TTEAM systems. I can say it has inspired me to see and learn more from Linda Tellington-Jones… Any more contests coming up, Kim?

Horse Power!

2009-08-31T07:24:00.002-06:00

This one is long… but if you have time and any interest in digging, dragging, pulling and plowing with the power of the horse, please take a look at the article I wrote entitled Horse Power at Homestead.org.

If anyone’s been wondering what we do in the high country during the summer season, this will share a little bit of the job with you. There’s more to horses than riding! (and shoveling manure…)

Floyd's Horse Stories: The work horses on the ranch

2009-08-24T13:22:00.003-06:00

When I was a little kid, we had one big old tractor on the ranch that had big steel wheels. It was used to pull the plow and to power the thrasher machine. All the other tasks were accomplished with horses. We had about 20 head of horses on the ranch most of the time. That was just the mature horses we relied on for work, not including the mares and colts.

Every year we had from 2-4 colts. Our stud was a big draft horse. Back then, we didn’t put emphasis on specific breeds of the horses. The heavier or draft breeds were primarily work horses, and the lighter breeds primarily for riding. I’ve told you about our mare, Nellie, before (see link). She’s the one the four of us boys learned to ride on, and who I first rode to school on. Over the years, she had probably six colts.

I’ve also told you a little bit about Ginger (see link), the first horse that was really mine. I got Ginger when I was 8. He was about 14 hands, a pretty little sorrel gelding with light mane and tail. I thought he was the best looking horse I ever saw. I could entertain the visiting relatives from back east because Ginger would rear up and walk on his hind feet. That was sure to impress them.

At any given time, we had about 5or 6 saddle horses. Dad’s horse was a big sorrel with a star on his forehead called Tony. Dad used him during the summer to irrigate off of. He would ride the horse out into the meadows, which would be all flooded. Dad would step off Tony, drop the reins, take a board out of the head gate or use his shovel to fix a ditch, and Tony would stand there grazing until Dad was done and ready to move on. I would go with him, riding Nellie. Most of what I recall was that the mosquitoes would just about eat us alive.

Now, my Uncle Bill had a horse called Skeeter, and she was a big black mare that also was a very good cow horse and had one very good trait, one very special talent. When we was out checking the cattle, if a calf got across the fence and there wasn’t a gait close by to ride through, that Skeeter would jump the fence, bring the calf back in, and jump back to my Uncle Bill. Pretty amazing. I saw it myself at least two or three times. Uncle Bill would get off the horse; she’d jump that fence, chase the calf back through a hole in the fence, then jump back over and wait for Uncle Bill. You see, he bought that horse from a guy he met at the Stampede fair who was performing a trick act where that Skeeter would jump over convertibles. Well, my folks invited the guy out to the ranch after the show. The guy probably had a hard luck story, but I never heard it all. All I remember was that he was going to quit the circuit for some reason, and told us he was going to come back for his horse, but never came back, so Uncle Bill ended up with her. Well, that Skeeter didn’t have to do any more convertible jumping, but her talents sure came in handy on the ranch

As for the work horses, they’d have their hands full throughout the year, and we relied on them for a variety of jobs. When we were putting up hay, there would be about 14 teams in the field. Besides our own teams, my folks rented horses. Usually the driver and the team would come together; many of them local folks.

So, the full crew during haying involved about 14 teams. The big, heavy work horses were on the mowing machines. There were 5 horse drawn mowers. This was the hardest job on the horses because the sickle is driven by power off the wheels, but the sickle bar was off to the side. The side pull created by the sickle bar would wear on the horse’s neck with the side dragging all the time.

The next hardest job, for which we usually had four teams on, was the buck rakes. These gathered the hay and moved it into the stacker. The stacker team, whose job it was to pile the hay on the stack, had to be a really good team. Not only was the load of hay heavy but the team had to stop at exactly the right time to stack the pile just so. A good team and driver could place the hay either in front or back of the stack, and make the job of the men on the stack that much easier. Each pile would be kept nice and square with a rounded top.

Then, there were five teams on the sulky or dump rakes. These were usually lighter weight or smaller horses because it didn’t require the power to pull that many of the other jobs did. One team I particularly remember were a set of big bay mares we called Mini and Mandy. They were the stacker team during haying, the feed team during the winter, and when they were feeding cattle, why they would pull in beside the hay stacks, while the hay was forked onto the wagons, then pull out into the herd of cattle. The driver could tie the reins around the post on the wagon as the team would drive out, make a circle, and be back when the hay was unloaded. Early auto pilot.

We had two hay wagons, one that fed the cattle, one that fed the sheep. All winter long. 300 head cows would be fed. That required 3 loads of hay. The same was needed also for the sheep. So, both wagons would leave out soon after sun up, and wouldn’t be done until 2. On Saturday, they fed double, so it was an all day ordeal. But then Sunday was a day of rest.

The same horses were used for the farming operation, for disking and harrowing, planting and pulling the binder (a machine which cut the hay and put it in into bundles), then pulled the bundle wagons that hauled grain to the thrashing machine. The thrasher made a big straw pile as it threw straw out the back end, and grain out the side to a little box wagon.

When we were haying, you were expected to have your team harnessed and ready to head to the field at 7 am. Everyone took one hour off for lunch, during which time the women folk brought a hot meal out the hay field. The teams were unhooked and tied to the fence or the equipment, and given a fork full of hay for their own lunch while the people ate. At 1 o’clock, the teams were hitched back up, and the whole crew worked on the field to 6. After that, those of us who drove rakes still had to unhook the rake and ride the horse back to the barn. The mowers were the only ones who rode the equipment back in, as they had to change the sickles and grease the moving parts regularly.

When it was time to break the work colts, we took the big stud horse, and teamed him up with a new horse. We’d then hook the two of them up to the breaking sled, which was just a wooden sled with a tongue. On top of the sled, we’d pile sacks of sand for added weight. Well, no doubt that stud knew what he was doing, and he let the new horse run away and pull the whole weight of it. As you can guess, it wasn’t long before the new horse learned to let the stud take on his half of the work. And if they wouldn’t pull their half, he’d pull the sled right up into their heels to keep them going.

We’d drive them up the lane, turn around as the stud would push the young horse around, and drive them back. And do it again two days later. That’s about all it took with these horses. That stud was the teacher really.

There was a lot of work for the horses, and a lot of work for us all. Three meals a day were served for the crew. The crew included our family of 7, then my grandparents, Uncle Bill, the two maiden aunts, Clara and Amelia, and somewhere between 6 and 12 helpers. There were three men that were our regular help, who lived with their families nearby but would join for the noon meal. But throughout the year, for sheep shearing in the spring, haying in summer and thrashing in the fall, there would be more hired hands to help, and to feed. For most of the crew, there was a bunk house over the shop. They’d bring their own bedrolls, and sleep on an old army cot. Before meals, they washed up in the basement in my grandpa’s house.

Providing regular meals for all these people was a lot of work for the women folks, but that’s another story…

Story by Floyd Getz, Photos from the Getz family archives.

Part VIII in the series on How To Horse Pack: Arriving at Camp

2009-08-19T08:00:00.002-06:00

This may not seem like much of a topic, but after remembering how stressed I’d be on the trail, right before arriving at camp, thinking about how to handle who and what first and how… I’ll hope I’m not the only one who might have appreciated a little advice on what you do when you get to the camp site.

It’s this very reason that I’ve envied back packers (mind you, however, I am an avid and true blue horse packer). They arrive at camp, drop the load from their back, and sit back and rest a while. Then lay out their tent or bivy sack, heat up the water for their dehydrated dinner, and call it quits. OK, I don’t know if this makes up for the burden of carrying 70 pounds on your human back all day, but it’s the compromise. We horse packers don’t have the load, but once we get there, the work is far from over. (Oh, and in further defense of the horse packer – yes, you can tell I’ve been in this debate more than a few times – “sitting in the saddle” all day is far more than just sitting… Let me know what you think after you’ve spent 5 hours or so in the saddle in the mountains one day.)

So, what do we do when we arrive at camp?

Well, first of all, the horse comes first. And usually we have a few horses to care for. So, there’s work to be done.

When we arrive at a location we plan to set up camp, the horses need not be too close to camp. Remember, once they stop and relax, they’re more than likely to be needing to relieve themselves (probably the rider will be too), but no one needs that where you’ll be pitching your tent. We find a group of trees just far enough away from where we’ll be setting up camp that it’s easy to lead over the pack horses one at a time to unload, but odors will not be offensive.

Usually by the time we reach camp, the horses are tired and hungry (once again, probably the rider will be too). I stop, drop the lead rope of the pack string, drop the reins of my riding horse, and chances are more than likely that they’ll all do nothing more than lower their heads and begin to eat. As a probably obvious tip here, make sure you stop in a grassy location. The horses are more interested in eating and resting than running off. This gives me time to dismount, remove my horse’s headstall, hang it over the saddle horn, and clip on his lead rope; then take off my hat and chaps, which I usually just hang over my saddle; and untie the pack string.

Bringing the stallion to camp adds a little extra caution. I’ll drop his reins and let him graze, only long enough to remove his bridle, and clip on a long lead rope which I can picket to a stump or rock or bush if need be, to keep him at a safe distance from fighting with the other horses. But since he’s a skinny boy, I’d like him to be grazing as much as possible when he’s not working. You can use this trick if you have a horse that fights, bites, kicks, or runs off.

Then, each pack horse is led over closer to camp, and their load is lifted, unloaded under a big tree in a neat pile. Sometimes not so neat. But it’s all there. All the fixings for setting up camp in one big pile. We can take care of all that later. First, the horses. One by one, the horses are led over to a good sized fallen tree (in our neck of the woods, these are plentiful) that works as a great saddle rack. There, each horse is unsaddle, inspected for chafing, wound or saddle sores, briefly curried, and sprayed with fly spray if need be.

After each horse in unsaddled, they can either be tied to trees (high and tight) for a short period of time if this is permissible in your location, or better yet, set up your highline with tree savers (or cinches) right from the get go, and tie the horses safely up there.

The saddles are left uncovered to air out if it’s not raining, but we don’t forget to cover them before night fall, throwing one of the pack tarps over them to protect them from rain or snow, frost or dew.

After the last horse is unsaddled and tied up, we usually leave the horses tied and resting while we address the unpacking of the panniers and the setting up of camp. A little bit of down time for them won’t hurt, though we know what they really want is GRASS.

So, after camp is set and our personal belongings are all in order, before we can sit down and relax (or eat… and I’m usually pretty hungry by now, so keep those snacks handy), the horses have to be turned out to graze. I’ve address how we do this in a previous post.

When the horses are all turned out and grazing, and all stock seem well and fine, and the camp is set… then and only then can we sit and relax. But since we didn’t have to limit our gear to what we carry on our human back, and had our horses help instead, chances are we packed a chair, and now we’re sittin’ pretty!

Natural Hoof Care and the Barefoot Horse

2009-07-26T19:05:00.003-06:00

I’ve never been one for medicines and doctor visits, for myself, my son, or my horses. I have this underlying trust in beings that for the most part we are strong, healthy and have what it takes to remain so. Yes, I do know this is not always the case; life always keeps us on our toes, perhaps so we take nothing for granted, can appreciate the goodness of nature when things do go according to plan, and become stronger by handling the challenges life throws at us when things do not. The ability to turn to modern medicine has been a blessing, in fact enabled me to still be alive today, but not one I take lightly, or expect to rely on with every given ailment.

That said, you can see I tend to prefer more natural approaches to health and care of self, family, pets and animals. All the way down to their feet. I’m talking about, of course, natural hoof care for horses, or keeping horses in their natural state of being barefoot, without steel nailed onto and through the hoof wall.

The practice simply makes sense to me. As a young girl, I was able to run barefoot myself for summers on end. My feet toughened to the point of tolerating walking on glass and hot pavement, or hiking across rock and gravel. Today, I haven’t been out of the house barefoot in years, and would have trouble walking from here to the barn if I were to attempt it barefoot. I know I’m capable of getting tough again, but right now, those digits are softies.

Why can’t it, why shouldn’t it be the same with my horses? We leave them barefoot all winter without problems. But heavy use, regular work, hard trails, mountains and rocks added to the picture make it a blur of confusion. It could, should, might work…

I started by attempting to hire a barefoot trimmer for consultation. Due to our remote location, after a year of correspondence, I was still without an appointment. Anyway, we are lucky enough to have a farrier with an open mind, willing and able to learn and try natural hoof care trimming, for our sake, and for the sake of our horses.

We then did a bunch of research on the internet and learned there are about as many styles and philosophies on barefoot trimming as there are horse colors. Believing inherently that bottom line, nothing should ever be done that hurts the horse and makes him lame, the more drastic approaches were not for us.

After reading Pete Ramey’s book “Making Natural Hoof Care Work for You,” I felt I found a logical approach that would work for me and my horses. When we pulled their shoes last October and had our farrier trim throughout the winter, we felt we were on the right path.

Then the summer season happened, and as usual, it starts with a BANG and continues rattling clear through autumn. We rarely have a chance to breathe, let alone slow down. For the horses, this means time to hit the trail, and get out their regularly. There is no time to be lame, to be soft, to take it easy, to test the waters. No time to sufficiently toughen up.

And sore they did get. I tell you what, as a horse lover, let alone one who relies on horses for their business, seeing my babies sore because of my choice was a pretty tough place to be… talk about questioning yourself, your motives, your choices…

Then one day, I had a long trip scheduled on one of the rockiest trails I know in this area, which for those of you who know the San Juan Mountains, know that’s saying a lot. And my main mount, my guide horse was sore. Sore because of my decision to “try” the barefoot horse thing.

So what did I do? I turned to my back up. Another barefoot horse. One who was not sore. My little stallion, Fadjurz Ideal, otherwise known as Flying Crow. At age 7, he has never been shod. I trim his feet myself. He gets plenty of exercise (as do so many stallions on pasture, even during his free time he seems to enjoy running back and forth for hours on a path he has packed hard).

I had never guided on him before, nor ridden him on this trail, thus was more than a little apprehensive. But life throws challenges at us at times when the timing must be just right. I rode him, there and back, a full day in the mountains in some pretty nasty conditions, and you know what? We haven’t looked back since. His feet were NEVER sore from that day. Nor from the many days since that I’ve continued to keep him going on the trails with me, working and guiding.

He made a believer of me. A horse can be barefoot. In fact, a horse can thrive barefoot. The footing, the health benefits, the ease of care… it all makes sense to me, and it all can work. But it takes effort to make it work. Commitment. Time. The right conditions. Plenty of rides to allow the horse the opportunity to toughen up. Flying Crow was sore once too… about four years ago when I first brought him home from the stable in which he was raised, and turned him out on pasture. It has taken years. But it worked.

I do not doubt that this would work for all of my horses if I rode them as regularly all year long, and had them as active as my little stallion. I never manage to have all the time I wish I had for each of my horses. When and if the day comes that I do, and believe I’m working towards this, I feel certain I can prove this a success. I will be providing what I truly believe is the healthiest hoof care for my horses by keeping them barefoot.

In the meanwhile, I have my Flying Crow, barefoot and fancy free, running around the mountains with me, naturally. Reminding me (and you) that this can work. It does work and it is working. A horse can thrive barefoot, even in these conditions, in these mountains, with all this riding…

If you have any barefoot stories, ideas, suggestions or experiences to share, please leave a comment or write me directly at losttrailranch@gmail.com. I’d love to learn more and look forward to many a barefoot tales to follow…

Lessons learned from a little stud horse

2009-07-19T16:05:00.003-06:00

We’re finally working together, my little stud horse and I. I mean really working. Guiding rides, and riding up the mountain to our camp in the Wilderness where we work mid-week, picketing, high line, the whole nine yards for the life of a working mountain horse. As well as giving us some lovely colts…

It took us three years to get here. I often think it should have taken us three months. I suppose if I knew then what I know now, it would have been so much easier. For both of us. But it was all these lessons we learned together that got us to this point, and gave me the knowledge to do so much better… next time. In the meanwhile, he forgave me for all my mistakes, and helped me learn the right way; showed me what I needed, and is still teaching me plenty most every day.

The biggest lesson he taught me I think I only now finally get. That I need to be a good leader first, and a good friend second. Just loving him and caring for him and being nice won’t get us up the trail safely. I wished it would. I tried that for years. But he needed a leader. And once I learned to be strong and firm but fair, to be a good leader, then and only then did he really want to be my friend. Before that, I see now, our friendship was on his terms, and at my expense.

I could ask ten times. That is no longer asking. That is nagging. Horses know how to tune that out like a child of an irritating mother. I didn’t raise my child that way. Why couldn’t I treat my horse with the same respect I treat my son? I ask him once. If he doesn’t get it, I figure either he didn’t hear me, or I perhaps I didn’t communicate clearly. I may try again, a little more firmly. If I have to ask a third time, he knows I’ll demand a response, and rightfully so. It should only take once, if done right. I know how to talk to my son. It came easily to me. I treated him with the leadership I wished I received as a child. Not just friendship. But true leadership. Direction. Help. Protection. Because I care about him. I love him, and he knows it all the time. I may not play with him or be a soft and warm and fuzzy mother. He says I’m like the mama wolf, and he knows he’s safe, and he knows if I ask once, I mean it. I may not ask a second time.

Finally, I am learning to treat my horses with the same care and respect. If I care about them, I will be their leader. With love, and kindness, and strong protection. I will ask only once nicely.

Finally, I am learning to be the leader he has been looking for. Now and only now, can we truly be friends.

Part VII in the series on Horse Packing How-To: On the trail

2009-07-13T07:16:00.002-06:00

As we head out again to the high country with our horses, this is the season to be amassing notes, photos, information and ideas to share with you at a later date and a slower time. And stories, including Floyd Stories… Ah, the ebb and flow of life. It’s flowing now. Lots of fun, and never enough time to do all we wish to accomplish on any given day. A good feeling, to have so much you want to do, you enjoy doing, you wish you could do…

In the meanwhile, a brief set of notes to share with you on horse packing. These on the actual how-to on the trail.

First of all, it sure helps if your riding horse or mule neck reins and doesn’t mind a rope under the tail. Most horses (and almost all mules) are surprisingly undisturbed by a rope rubbing under their back end and will completely ignore this, or perhaps clamp down their tail briefly. I don’t think I would like it much, so the few that do over react, and a few will, I give them time; they’ll accept it eventually.

Next, if you are leading more than one horse or mule in a pack string, take care to tie them together safely. We use a “pigging string,” a piece of bailing twine looped over the front brace of the cross bars in the pack saddle before packing the horse, and hanging out the back end of the pack over the horses rigging along their back. The lead rope of the following horse is then tied onto the pigging string. (This works well too for leading a group of saddle horses – just loop the pigging string over and under the saddle horn and be sure the cinches are tight.)

The pigging string serves as a release point in an emergency, such as a horse slipping down trail. Better to allow a break point than lose your whole string. The horse’s safety matters to me. I figure I have no right being out there working with my stock if I can’t care for them in a safe and sound manner. Pack extra bailing twine. It can snap en route. Replace it as needed. Anyway, you all know how many other uses you’ll find for string in camp if you don’t use it all getting into camp…

We tend to tie the lead rope on long enough that the following horses can put their head down to drink at creek crossings if need be. We’re often out there for long hours, and our stock work hard. For short trips, you may consider tying shorter – not so close that the horse will ride up on the horse in front, but not so long that the horse can put his head down and graze as he moseys down the trail.

Finally, the most important part is caring for your stock on the trail. I once read that a truly good packer rides looking backwards half the time. I strive to do this. I try to gently hold my riding horse up as needed at creek crossings, bridges, rocks, and other obstacles in the trail. Make sure the string all find their footing and safely cross. Keep an eye on the stock to make sure they are not being dragged along or pulling back, and that they are staying in line. The order of your stock in the pack string is essential. A bossier horse will work great in the lead to keep others in line behind, unless he or she kicks, then that one needs to be at the end of the line… unless he or she bites. Get to know your stock. Find the order that works best for them. Allow them to be happy and comfortable. I don’t want my horses grumbling and uncomfortable in the pack string. It is work, but not a bad job. They more content the stock is doing their job, the easier my job is, of course.

Part VI in the series on Horse Packing How-To: Packing the Load

2009-07-08T14:20:00.003-06:00

There are a lot of adjustments to the pack saddle rigging. Spend the time to properly fix and place each strap for the most comfortable fit for your horse. The only tight fit should be with both cinches. The breast collar and crupper should be comfortable – not tight, but not so loose it hangs and rubs. Keep a good eye on your stock, especially the first few trips. Our goal is always to have our stock arrive home after a trip without rubbing, scarring or chaffing.

Like I mentioned in an earlier Floyd Story, you can over tighten the load and have a very uncomfortable horse. As with a good rider that can safely ride with a loose cinch by adjusting his or her body weight, what’s more important that a super-tight cinch is the equally balanced loads.

So, that’s where we’ll begin. Before packing the load, you need to sort and weigh the load. I can’t stress the importance of this step enough. Your goal is for equal weight and bulk on each side of the horse. Really equal. “Sort of” is not good enough. We use soft sided canvas or iron cloth panniers, and choose the gear to fit in each so that each pannier ends up approximately the same size, and definitely the same weight. Each pannier is weighed on a hanging scale (hanging from a rope in our barn or packing area at home, or from a tree limb or strong human packer at camp), and adjusted accordingly. Our goal is to be exactly equal. We will settle for no more than a pound difference. This may sound crazy, but we’ll throw in a rock to balance the load. I believe it is that important. Otherwise, you’re relying on the tightness of the lash ropes and cinches, and I don’t think my horse needs anything strapped on that tightly.

As for maximum weight, a common question asked by our clients each year, it all depends on your stock, your trails, and how far you’ll be going. We don’t overload our stock. We start at 10,000 feet elevation and go up from there on some very challenging, steep and rocky high mountain trails. I don’t need to kill my horse, or even have him wiped out or injured, for anyone’s load. We average our max load at 125 or 150 total weight per horse. That means that 125 or 150 pounds has to be evenly divided between the two panniers and the top load. (I do not include the saddle and rigging in this figure.) That ends up being plenty of weight and bulk, dead weight, mind you, for our stock to climb up these mountain trails.

To pack the load on the horse, we work as team, one of us holding the horse and reaching over to adjust the straps, as the other one lifts the panniers up onto the pack saddle rigging. When the panniers and top load are in place, a mantee or folded tarp is laid over the load. The load is then secured with the lash rope and cinch.

I imagine every packer has his or her own favorite way to secure the load. We stick with the box hitch. It’s worked for my husband quite well for 30 or 40 years now. You can learn and master “fancier” hitches like the Diamond. Whatever works for you. It is personal preference, and I imagine the several options will all work well if they are done right.

Double check your work. Loads must be even, and you can tell just from looking at your final packed stock if it is all hanging tight, secure and evenly. If not, believe me, it’s a lot easier to stop and re-pack at home or at the trail head, than on the trail after your full pack saddle rolled under the belly of your horse or mule.

Care for the horses in camp: theory in practice

2009-06-27T14:14:00.003-06:00

After previous posts discussing the “how to” of caring for horses while at camp, I thought it might be of help to see and read about some specifics. This is theory in practice, examples of actual situations of us caring for our horses while at camp. There is no one right way; it is a lot of trial and error, of working with the number of horses you have, their personalities, and the location and situation of where you are.

Example one: 7 horses at a new camp. The horses have worked hard, bringing us and our gear to camp, but once there, most are not working. It’s time out for a few days. Therefore, they can graze during the day.

During the day, we have set up a portable electric fence which runs from one group of trees, across the meadow, to another group of trees. It is hard to find any sort of clear path through the trees, so they act as a natural boundary. At night, the horses are tied to a high line in the middle of those trees, so it’s pretty much the center point of their world up there. A creek runs through this “corral” which is pretty handy, but if there was not, the horses would be led to a water source before turning them out and again before bringing them in. Within the corral, two horses are left free to roam (the most passive, follower types) and five of the seven horses are hobbled (the more experienced hands who have learned that hobbles won’t stop them, and those who may know the way home). A “just in case” measure. Though they can move pretty far and fast with hobbles, we usually can run faster…

At last light, we lead the horses up to the trees and tie them to the high line for the night. Lead ropes are clipped back on, or untied if they’ve been safely tied up around their neck in a no-slip knot during grazing, and hobbles are removed and now buckled losely around the horses neck so that they are handy in the morning. Each horse is given a generous handful or two of horse cookies once all are tied up. They learn to settle in for the night. A newbie may paw and become anxious, but they will learn, they will settle down with time.

At first light, I go let them off the high line. They are happy to see me and nicker and paw. I put hobbles on those that will need hobbles before I untie them. They are anxious and hungry in the morning, rightfully so, yet for my personal safety, I require that they behave and stand still while I work with them. I untie the most insecure first, and the most confident last. That way no one is left panicking back on the high line alone. Since I usually work alone in the early morning, I do what it takes to make it safe and easy for myself.

Example two: 5 horses at a familiar camp. The horses are becoming familiar with camp. They recognize the location, and seem relieved to have arrived there. They will not be working hard during the day, but we know they (like us) are happier when their bellies are full, so better to let them out grazing as much as possible.

There is no need to tie them up at night now. They know their way around, and we feel confident the portable electric corral set up across the meadow will be enough to contain them. Now when their bellies are full and they are looking for a comfortable place to rest, they return to the trees where their high line is. Although we don’t tie them up, it is now their comfort zone. We bring them a pail of horse cookies to share every time they return to the trees.

Example three: 5 horses at a familiar camp. The horses know the camp and by now call it their home away from home. There are enough of them together that they will not be looking for the horses we left behind, nor anxious to run away from camp back to the trailhead or ranch.

During the day, we picket two horses, hobble two, and let one roam free. We are certain to leave enough room between the two picketed horses that they will not tangle, and do check on them frequently in case they tie up on a bush, rock, or themselves. I have seen it happen enough that I’d rather take a few minutes every 2 hours to make certain they are all OK.

At night, they are either tied back to the high line, or brought into a small corral set up with the electric fencing to remain safe and comfortable (and close) for the night. I personally can’t sleep well with my horses picketed, but I know folks who do and have had fine luck with that.

Example four: 4 horses at a new camp. We’ve been riding all day. Both we and our horses are tired. We have a big day tomorrow, and will be moving on mid morning. Yet the camp is not familiar to our horses, and we do not feel comfortable leaving them out at night, and nor have we packed in a portable electric fence.

One horse is picketed, two are hobbled, and one is left loose. The horses must be allowed to drink (led to water if no creek in the “pasture”) and graze at least two hours that night before we tie them to the high line for the night. There is usually a good 3 hours of light after we arrive at camp in which we can leave them out to graze. Likewise in the morning, the horses are given at least two hours to graze while we have breakfast and pack up camp, before we bring the horses in to saddle and move on.

A job to do

2009-06-26T17:04:00.003-06:00

It helps to have a job to do. A job gives us focus, direction, motivation, clear goals. It’s the same for our horses, isn’t it? Likewise, without a job, I might not ride… might not find the time. And my horses might just hang around grazing all day long.

Though coming up with a job isn’t that hard to do. Especially when it comes to horses. A job does not always have to be as intense as packing us and our gear into Ditch Camp, or pulling a slip to clear dirt. A job can be more simple to find and do. Our job can be training, which really, we can look at as an opportunity presenting itself to us every time we ride. Or clearing trail. Now that’s a great way to “write off” a trail ride as a productive afternoon well spent!

Trail clearing may not be a regular part of your riding routine, but it tends to be an important part of our spring and fall schedule, when the trails we use for day rides are accessible only as far as we maintain them. When we can, we pack the chain saw in the saddle scabbard (see above). When we can’t, as in, when we are working in the Wilderness, we carry a good saddle saw and hatchet at the least, and a two-man cross-cut saw at the most.

The stop and go for the horses, getting on and off, often at odd and uncomfortable locations, the patience of waiting while we work, of listening to the sawing and branches snapping, and allowing mounting from the “off side” – these all provide valuable opportunities for training our horses, and for us, working on our own riding skills. Each time out, we strive to improve our communication skills with our horse, which will be evident in how well they respond to the work at hand and the variety of tasks we request of them.

The goal is better set as the process, the learning, the doing; not so much as the actual amount of dirt moved or distance covered. Perhaps this is impractical in our day to day jobs, however if we look at the task at hand in terms of how we accomplish it. This is a better focus than the narrow eyed veiw of the end result. This is how through our jobs, training, for both horse and rider, is truly achieved. The goal then is keeping it positive. Or at the very least, on those difficult days when we just don’t get it all right, finding a positive note on which to end the job.

I suppose the one exception I’m able to make with myself is those times riding or being with the horse is for therapeutic value. My own therapy. No work, just being, feeling, relaxing, unwinding, breathing… I’m not talking about anything professional here, just how good I feel riding, out there with my horses. Although it is rare, I can still occasionally justify taking the time for nothing more than a simple ride, an early morning silent ride just me and my horses, at the end of the season when the trails are clear and the ranch quiet, to clear by mind and settle my soul.

I leave you today with a quote, perhaps just a quip, I saw in a fancy horsey item catalogue that’s stayed on my mind for weeks now:

Feeling down? Saddle up!

The first of summer

2009-06-22T05:46:00.002-06:00

So much I wish I had time to share. Yet like with so many of you, suddenly we find ourselves so busy this time of year. Where did this rush come from? Catching us unprepared once again, caught up in the whirlwind of the season, but enjoying most every moment.

We’re up at our “ditch camp” with our horses four days a week, then taking day rides and giving lessons and visiting with guests two days a week, and cabin cleaning on the seventh day…

And yes, I love summer.

However, there is also so much I’ve been anxious to share – especially specifics on horse camping now that we’re out there with our horses again. (Wendy – I took many pictures of the high line and horses at camp I look forward to sharing.)

The next couple weeks are jam-packed, but I’ll look forward to catching back up and sharing much more as time allows.

In the meanwhile, here’s one thing to think about…

As I sit at camp in the early morning hours, bundled in front of the crackling fire sipping my steaming coffee, with my boys still sleeping in the tent and the horses peacefully grazing about me on the high mountain grass, I can imagine no place I would rather be, no life I would rather have.

There is a closeness to oneself one finds out there, perhaps because one has fewer distractions, only seeing if we choose to look and hearing if we choose to listen. There is a universal understanding which comes to us, however we prefer to spend time out in nature. We begin to see the Big Picture, and realize our small but blessed place within that circle of life. And there is a closeness that comes with our horses when we are out there living and working with them, day in and day out, side by side, that can not be achieved back home on the ranch or in the stables.

And so, off to the high country we head with our horses today….we’ll return Thursday evening. May you all have a wonderful week!

Floyd's Horse Stories: Taking the sheep to the summer range

2009-06-20T14:48:00.004-06:00

Soon after the ewes lambed out on the Ranch, and the lambs grew to be about 3 weeks old, we docked and branded and then took small bands of 150 or so pair at a time to the foot hills.

During the summer, we were permitted a total of 1200 adult sheep and their lambs on Forest Service lands. But during the latter part of May and into June, we’d drive the flock up to pasture in the foothills above the Ranch, taking the ewes and lambs up in the small bands as soon the lambs grew big enough to travel.

It was about a 6 mile trip up to the foothill pasture from the Ranch. And it was always on a Saturday when the drive took place. Funny, that’s the day when us kids (my brother, Melvin, and I) would be home from school and could take the sheep up... We did this on foot, driving the sheep slowly along for about 4-5 hours, followed later in the day by Dad, who would meet us up there in the pick up and bring us back down to the Ranch.

The first time I went up, the sheep herder went with us. That’s how we learned the way. But the sheep pretty much knew where to go in the foothills. The old ones would teach the new ones, and they would slowly move off in the right direction, urged on by the promise of greener grass. The only challenge here was keeping the little lambs moving along. They’d get tired and want to call it quits. We used to make rattles by taking a half gallon can with a handful of rocks inside, hammer the top together, drive a nail through to make hole, thread a piece of wire thru it, and had the perfect tool for tossing behind the sheep. That rattle sound would get them up and going.

As you can imagine, with the sheep spread out and grazing along the grassy hillsides, rattle snakes would get stirred up from time to time. One day, as we were driving the sheep along, there was this snake, laying there all coiled up shaking his rattle menacingly at us. Of course us kids just had to have those rattlers. Well, we found a couple rocks and then struck the snake on his head, then we stepped on his head to be safe and cut off our prized rattle.

By the way, did you know they used to actually sell canned rattle snake? Came in a small can and looked a lot like Vienna sausage. But food stuff… well, I’ll save all that for the next story. This one, we did not eat.

There was a sheep herder who stayed with the flock up on the foothills. Usually by the 10th of June, all of the range flock was in the foothills, which was BLM lands, and they would remain there until time to head to the high country. The high range on the Forest Service land was in Summitville, which was about a four day drive from that spring range.

The summer range permit allowed for the sheep to be turned out on the first of July. Most years I was unable to go because we were in the middle of haying. That kept me plenty busy. However when I was about 12 years old, a friend of Dad’s, and his son who was my age, came down from Denver to go with Dad on the sheep drive. You see, the friend had done that when he was a kid with Dad, and now he wanted his son to experience it as well. So that year, Dad let me off the hook from haying, and took me along on the sheep drive.

That first day the sheep were moved from the foothills, up to Rock Creek, which was about 7 miles, then another 3 or 4 miles to the counting corral – all on the first day. The counting corral was where the Forest Service Ranger would count the flock to be sure of our numbers.

On that morning of July 1, we rode our horses up from the Ranch and met the sheep as they were crossing Rock Creek and heading up to Dry Creek.

The camp and cooking equipment was being packed in with us on our 5 burros. Each burro carried a portion of the camp, and just followed along with us, or else we drove them along with the sheep. There were four sheep herders who would remain with the flock for the summer, who had only 2 riding horses, so they alternated walking and riding.

The burros would spend the summer with sheep in the high country as well. Dad would go up every 2 weeks to deliver resupplies and salt. He would drive up the road from Del Norte to Summitville, which went right thru the range. The sheep herders camped a mile or so off the road, but would meet up with Dad at a predetermined place every other week, leading the burros along to haul back their supplies that would get them through until the next time.

We camped that night outside the corrals in which the sheep were contained. Early the next morning, the Ranger showed up, counted the sheep, and off we went, starting up the trail to the high country with the flock of sheep before us

The second day we travelled only about 4 miles, but up an extremely steep grade. The trail went up and over Mount Baldy, a very rocky rough trail across the top of the mountain around the head of North Rock Creek and over to Blowout Pass. It was hard to move the sheep up that steep hill and across the rock slide. The widest place was maybe 8-10 feet wide. So you can imagine 1200 sheep plus their lambs, strung out for a mile or more up the steep mountain trail…

This is as far as Dad went to help. There way haying to be done, so the sheep were left in the care of the sheep herders who led the flock the rest of the way to the summer range.

From there we turned around, and rode back home in a day. Dad and his friend walked back down to the counting corral where they had the pick up truck and drove back to the Ranch. But Jimmy (the son) and I had to ride back to the ranch. Fine by me, but for poor Jimmy, who had probably only had a day or two experience horseback all his life up to this point, that 12 miles or so back down to the ranch was probably pretty long and more than a little uncomfortable. That poor kid was so tired and sore, he got off part way and walked the rest of the way back to the ranch.

I don’t know if it was much more comfortable in the truck – the road was no more than a track across the foot hills, and took Dad and his friend clear into Monte Vista, then back out the ranch. But still, they beat us home by quite some time.

Story by Floyd Getz

Always something...

2009-06-11T15:03:00.002-06:00

As those of you who have horses may have come to believe, if it can go wrong, it will. Careful as we may be, we can prevent most problems, but new challenges present themselves regularly. Horses have a way of reminding us to be present, to pay attention at all times, to only let your guard down in limited doses, and to always be prepared for the unexpected. Our beloved equine companions have become for us loving half-ton bundles of lessons in learning to deal with the many surprises life has to offer.

This is about the latest lesson in learning to handle the unexpected. And it’s a pretty beautiful story in the process.

Our lovely mare Willow, a 10 year old Fadjur bred Arabian mare we brought home from the Jack Tone Ranch about 3 ½ years ago now, birthed a precious little colt early in the morning yesterday. I’ll share my birthing notes at a later date – hopefully as a help to someone out there, but at the very least, as record for me. This was Willow’s third baby. She’s a beautiful mother to watch – so protective and alert in her never failing care.

Anyway, this colt is a cutie. A little elf of a fellow. Quite the contrast to his especially graceful dam, though I am certain he will one day blossom into the lovely swan. He’s got these LONG legs, I mean LOOOONG. So long, in fact, that he has no idea how to lie down. It’s a long way down from up there. And these legs are simply unruly. What’s a colt to do?

In this case, the answer seems pretty clear to this little fellow. Just don’t lie down.

But boy-oh-boy does he get sleepy, and little foals have not mastered the art of sleeping standing up very effectively. So he’s been tired, so tired…

We tried to lie him down. He’d pop right back up, as quick as those gangly legs would manage. Even when his mama and the other mare and foal are flat out and sound asleep in the afternoon sunshine. Nope, he just wouldn’t lie down.

Finally yesterday afternoon, we figured out the secret weapon to battle his exhaustion and conquer his fears. Beka.

See, if we lie him down, and Beka gently holds him and stays there with him, he’s more than happy to fall into a deep sleep. What little one wouldn’t be content sleeping in someone’s loving arms? Last night, it took him less than a minute, and Beka was stuck remaining there for over an hour as the rest of the horses decided to lie down all around her. This morning, perhaps it took a full minute before he was sound asleep, as Beka sat with him in the wet grass, with the content mother looking over.

I’m sure he’ll learn eventually, but in the meanwhile, we figure sleep is pretty important, especially to a little guy. And we’re pretty grateful to Beka for her patience and gentle care that baby and mother are obviously most comfortable with.

Spoiled? Maybe. Who cares? We’re glad to do whatever it takes to keep our little ones healthy and happy. Why not?

Anyway, Bob’s been lying the baby down by reaching over him and pulling his legs up and over like a calf at a roping. The colt ends up in Bob’s standing lap, and he gently lowers him. Baby better figure things out fast, because I don’t know how much longer Bob will be able to do this! And likewise, how much longer Beka will remain so loving and patient…

In the meanwhile, if anyone knows a better way to safely and gently lie a foal down, please drop me a note.

So, there you have it. Who would have guessed the simple act of lying down would be such a big problem? Such is life with horses…

Would we want it any other way? No. And learning to work with our horses, we then slowly learn to handle our children, our spouse, even ourselves… whatever life throws at us, in the most positive approach possible. Learning to deal with whatever comes up next in the best manner we can. We do what needs to be done, and learn to love the journey more so than some goal or final destination.

Floyd's Horse Stories: The Cattle Drive

2009-06-08T13:50:00.003-06:00

Today I’m going to tell you about the Cattle Drives; about driving cattle from our Ranch in the valley to the mountain range where the cattle were turned out for the summer.

The Getz Ranch had a summer cattle range above Creede, Colorado. It was about 70 miles from our Ranch and took 7 days to drive the cattle up there. Dad, my Uncle Bill and a couple hired cowboys did this every year. And every year, I wanted to be there, working with them, on the back of my horse all day, heading towards the high country.

The permit allowed for the cattle to be turned out onto the range the first day of June each year. When I was 12, I was finally allowed to go. However, this presented a serious dilemma. I wouldn’t be allowed to miss school, and didn’t know if I’d be out of school in time.

That first year I went, the drive started on the very last day of school. I didn’t get to help them start from the Ranch and up the road. But I joined them late that afternoon. I rode Ginger straight from school and met up with the herd at the Cornelius Ranch, about a four mile ride from my school.

My folks had made arrangements all along the route for pastures or large corrals that we’d keep the herd in at night. My Uncle Bill would meet us there each evening with a truck load of hay and an over night camp for us. He drove a pick up in which we could haul horses, and pulled the sheep herders camp trailer. (see photo above) That trailer was set up with a kitchen to cook our meals and a bunk. Uncle Bill and Dad would cook the meals. At night, I got to sleep in that bunk, which was probably just a regular “full” size bed, in between Uncle Bill and Dad. All night, I’d either be squashed on one side or the other, but I never worried about being cold. Next to the trailer, we’d set up a tent in which the two hired cowboys slept.

As for the cows, they’d settle down in the evening when they were full. We’d be stopped for the night at a place with water, and like I said, Uncle Bill brought plenty of hay. They were contained in pasture or corral all nights except the last night, when we camped out on Forest Service lands, and the cowboys would take turns throughout the night keeping an eye on the cows to be sure none started to wander back to the Ranch or head up without us onto the range.

Well, it was about 225 head we drove up there. Each morning we’d get up as soon as it was light enough to saddle, and head out around sun up. We’d usually arrive to the night stop around 3 pm, giving us, our horses and the cows plenty of time to eat, drink and rest up. The stopping point on the second night was just on the east edge of the town of Del Norte. We’d need to get an early start on that third day because we had to drive the cattle right down through that main street of Del Norte. We’d pass through early in the morning in hopes of avoiding traffic.

The next stop was 9 miles west of Del Norte. There was a large pasture with water where we could turn the cows out for the night. And then on through the town of South Fork. There again, we tried to get through town early to avoid traffic. Even though we’d usually leave by 6 am, we were still 4 miles out of South Fork; it wouldn’t be until mid morning before we’d be driving the cattle through town, and usually quite a little traffic.

That first year I went, just as we got to South Fork, the train to Creede was coming by. The train went along the highway, right along side us. As you can imagine, it caused quite a ruckus with the cattle.

I remember another time we were going thru South Fork and the Coca Cola truck came up and wanted to go thru the herd. Usually one of the cowboys would go ahead and break a path for the vehicle to get through. Well, when that soda pop truck drives though the herd, one of the cowboys rides up along side, got his horse right next to the truck, reached in, and helped himself to about a half dozen cokes. We stopped and had a treat of a hot coke. As you can imagine, when we opened the bottles, which were hot and well shaken, about two-thirds of the pop fizzed out.

By this time, the cows were tired and sore footed from all that walking on the pavement. It was tough, and slow going. The third day was probably the hardest day on the cows. The last three days were longer, but the herd moved better off the paved road, and probably could smell the fresh mountain air like I could.

That forth night was spent up by Masonic Park, just past South Fork. One night when we were camped there at Masonic Park, for some reason one of the food boxes was left open in the back of the truck. Well, next morning, we got up and found a whole loaf of store bought bread missing. And an empty beer can in its place. Turns out a pack rat left us a shiny exchange.

Now, back in those days, the road from South Fork to Creede was not paved; it was a gravel road. We’d follow along that road and drive the cattle along until spending that fifth night up at Wagon Wheel Gap. There we pastured the cattle along the river and prepared for the next long haul.

The sixth day was longest. From Wagon Wheel Gap, we’d drive the cattle up and across the 7 Mile Bridge. There were no fences there then, no assigned pasture, just open land owned by the Forest Service. When we arrived, we pushed the cattle off the side of the road, fed them on the open ground, and had the cowboys take turns throughout the night keeping the cattle in line.

From there, it was only the final 7 miles that last day to what is now the Broken Arrow Ranch, where the cattle were turned out to the range and into the care of the cowboy who took care of them all summer.

It was a good time, I suppose the highlight of my year back then. There would be one rider in the lead. He kept the cows up front from getting too far ahead, would lead road crossing, open gates to lead the herd through, or close other gates and block side trails to keep the cows from straying

The rest of us rode drag. I’d be there, riding Ginger. Ginger knew more about herding and driving cattle than I did. He’d go up and nudge the tired calves with his nose to push them on. He knew what to do, and pretty much did it all for me. I went along for the ride.

Our horses were so well behaved; I don’t remember any issues or concerns with them. They were all used to working, and they were working all the time. It’s not like horses that are turned out most of the time then used a few times here and there. It sure made a big difference. They knew what to do, and did their job well.

There were 5 permittees back then on what was called the Park Cattleman’s Allotment. Three of the ranchers were from the Monte Vista area. The other two were ranchers from the Alamosa area, including the former Governor Adams, who shipped their cattle up to Creede on train. By about 1945, we too began to ship the cattle, and save the 7 day journey which probably took its toll on the cattle, but as you can imagine, I sure enjoyed.

Introduction

2009-06-08T12:54:00.003-06:00

In my last post, I introduced to you Beka, who we're lucky enough to have here at our ranch for the summer. As I mentioned, I am learning a great deal as I take the time to teach, to introduce Beka to our herd and horse handling, riding, etc. (My victim!) Beka too has a blog and is writing about the experiences from her point of view. It might be interesting to see what she has to say, what she learns, what works from my teachings and her expereinces, etc. For me, it's another great opportunity to learn...

Beka's site is: Imperfectly Living a Perfect Life

Horsemanship 101

2009-06-06T17:18:00.002-06:00

A wonderful opportunity presents itself to us each time we are given the opportunity to introduce the horse, perhaps for the first time or in the early stages, to one we can see has that passion or interest. Suddenly, we become beginners all over again, and in seeing things anew, perceive things more clearly, more defined than perhaps we have in a while. The process of instruction brings learning to both student and teacher.

For years, I was lucky enough to have such opportunities with children at camp, eager and open to do it all, as long as horses were part of the package. Over the years, here too I have such opportunities; not with children but with the open mind of a new beginner adult, on a weekly basis throughout the summer.

Each of these opportunities were limited in time and therefore in scope. At best, at camp, you can only teach/learn so much in a week or two. And likewise, here at our guest ranch, I can almost assure a beginner a safe, comfortable and enjoyable ride. I take great pride in this and truly enjoy sharing the time well spent with horse and rider on these awesome mountain trails. However in just a couple hours, and without a “follow up visit”, we end it there, and hope for the best next year, or in a few years when that person returns and wants to ride again.

This year, I have an exciting opportunity present itself to me in the form of an enthusiastic and athletic young woman here to spend the summer with us. She’s not a horse person… yet. We’ve got the whole summer to work on it, and with her energy and interest, I think it’s going to be fun for us both. I tease her that she’ll also learn to be one heck of a cabin cleaner, which isn’t exactly the brightest side of the position, but it is part of the package deal. (And really not that bad, I promise her.)

And so, I find myself given the opportunity to see horses and learn their handling all over again as I present it all to my summer helper, Beka, who comes with limited horse experience but great ability and interest. I tend to find the latter two so much more essential than the former. The bottom line is you have a clean slate waiting to be filled with poetry. In this case, poetry in motion. Horsemanship.

The first thing we went over is something you can spend a lifetime perfecting, yet it is so remarkably simple you may laugh that I give it such importance. Getting the horse in from pasture.

To begin with, it’s all about body language. I explain how I don’t try to sneak up on my horses. I don’t try to be the predator and chase them in to the corral where it’s easier to “catch” them. (I did have to re-teach the old dogs this new trick, as this is the way it was done here for years.) I approach the horse directly, with respect, but not like the human/hunter that they fear us to be. Firm but fair, remember? You can see their reaction to you from a quarter mile away. If they are scared from way back there, you better slow down, approach and retreat, and turn down the human/hunter in you.

When you come near the horse, I’d like him or her to turn towards me, and better yet, take a few steps towards me. You can “reward” them with treats. I don’t believe there is anything wrong with that, though I prefer to give a kind word and a gentle rub.

Then and only then do I halter the horse, followed by another kind word and gentle rub. And then we proceed to practice leading.

Here again that body language thing comes in to play (doesn’t it always?). I want my horses’ shoulder in line with mine. He or she should not be any further in front of me, so that if I stop abruptly, so will my horse, and be no further ahead of me. Should he or she push the boundaries and step ahead of me, I take control of his or her feet, and then ask my horse to walk completely around me until we’re lined back up, shoulder to shoulder.

There is no pressure on the lead rope unless I need to up the pressure. Otherwise, I’d like to have my horse expect the light touch.

While walking up through the pasture, I’ll make a few sudden stops just to keep my horse alert and paying attention to me. Perhaps even stop, then take a few steps back. I’ll expect my horse to step back in line with me. If just my walking back is not enough to signal to my horse to walk backwards with me, I’ll flap my elbows and act bigger. That usually does it. But if that’s not enough, I’ll raise my whole arms and swing the lead rope and make sure my horse understands I’m backing up and I expect him to as well.

As always, start soft. Assume your horse will not need more than a light touch or gentle signal. But up the pressure if need be, never to the point of pain, but only to the point of getting the results you want.

Be careful here though. More often than not a horse doesn’t do what we are asking because we are not being clear in our request. Perhaps we need to stop and take a look at our own body language and movements and see what we can do to improve our communications with the horse before we quickly blame him or her for “not getting it.”

Leading a horse in from pasture is something we do almost daily. Seems to me it’s an opportunity each time to advance with your communication skills, fine tune the effectiveness of your body language, and constantly improve your relationship with your horse.

Opportunities present themselves in the simplest ways at times. I hope I don’t overlook too many in my rush to just get it done or get there.

Part V in the series on Horse Packing How-To: The Pack Saddle

2009-06-03T12:44:00.003-06:00

The next stage in the game of horse packing is finding and fitting the pack saddle.

There are two main types of pack saddles: the Sawbuck and the Decker, as well as several newer varieties, including some "no rope" types, and even packing systems that are designed to work off a riding saddle. Once again here, it’s personal choice. There’s no one right answer. You got your right answer if it works for you and your horse.

Our personal preference is the Sawbuck, pictured above. It works for us and our horses, so we stick with it. The Sawbuck looks like the device of the same name that is used to secure a log when cutting it into firewood, with hard plates or “bars” that fit behind the horse’s withers and distribute the weight along the horses’ back. We start with a thin wool pad, then a heavy, longer pack saddle pad under the saddle. Rigging is attached to the Sawbuck and secured and adjusted to the animal. Then panniers, or pack bags, are hung from the cross bars. On top of the whole load, we use a folded tarp or mantie, to cover the load, and hitch it securely with a cinch and long pack rope.

Variations on the Sawbuck have been around for as long as folks have been packing in the west, and we still have some Sawbucks here that I think are about that old, and remain in good working condition. It works for us; we are comfortable with the design, so we continue to use this method. We have several saddles to choose from that can fit a wide variety of horse shapes and sizes, from standard mule to Arabian to the Percheron-Quarter Horse cross pictured above.

Fit is everything. That’s where we’ll start. If the pack saddle does not fit your horse well, you’ll have a sore horse and no one to blame but yourself when your horse refuses to accept a load. There’s no excuse for an uncomfortable horse. Take care of your stock. Bottom line. I believe if you don’t care to care well for your stock, don’t pack.

Assuming you do care for your stock, that’s why we’re choosing to be out there with them, start by making sure the saddle fits well and your rigging is properly adjusted. Every horse is going to be slightly different, so get comfortable changing positions and adjusting the rigging with each horse.

Start with your pads – place them smoothly and well centered on your horse where they will protect withers, sides and back from friction and any direct contact from the saddle and the load. The Sawbuck should be fit first without the pads to ensure the correct size. Once you are sure of proper size, center your saddle over the padding and adjust the rigging so that there is no binding with the breeching, and nor does it hang low to rub your horse raw. You’re looking for a good fit here. The rigging is designed to hold things together, not just decoration, so we should fit it well, not just allow it to hang there.

There are a lot of adjustments to the pack saddle rigging. Spend the time to properly fix and place each strap for the most comfortable fit for your horse. The only tight fit should be with both cinches. Like mentioned in an earlier Floyd Story, you can over tighten the load and have a very uncomfortable horse. Like with a good rider that can safely ride with a loose cinch by adjusting his or her body weight, more important that a super-tight cinch is the equally balanced loads. We’ll discuss that further in our next installment.

Once your rigging has been properly adjusted and tightened, be sure to carefully fold over the cinch straps so that they do not drag and do not bulk up under the load. Likewise, when unsaddling the pack horse, take the time before removing the saddle to fold back the cinch straps, and hook back all parts of the rigging back onto the Sawbuck, like folding a tent back together. This will not only make it safer to remove the saddle from the horse, and easier to put the saddle back on it’s saddle rack, but it will make it easier to pull out the rigging when put back in place on your horse your next time packing.

Floyd's Horse Stories: Our 2nd Pack Trip

2009-06-02T11:10:00.004-06:00

The next story I want to share with you is about the second pack trip, with me and Melvin and Robert, the following year. We’re now a year older (11, 12 and 13 respectively) and a year wiser. We made the same deal with Dad and Mom: after haying we could take our little trip. This time we decided to go up to what we then had called Baldy Lakes. These are now called San Francisco Lakes up at Frisco Creek.

So we left home the same as we had the year before. But by now we had acquired a real pack saddle and panniers. And after (or because of) last year, we had learned a thing or two.

Early in the morning, we headed out, on up the same route to Rock Creek. From there, we followed the old horse trail up the North Fork. About half way up the mountain, there was an old, abandoned saw mill. We figured that was a good a place as any to pick for a camp, so we stopped there for the day. Fishing was tremendous; any old fly would catch a fish. Dinner was pretty special – sure beat just opening a can to warm up and fill you.

The next day, we packed back up, and rode up over the top of the pass between North Rock Creek and Frisco Creek, and continued on to just where you dropped into the basin of Baldy Lakes. That particular area was pretty unusual. It was formed in a way where it was made of a series of benches, each bench a 10 -1 2 foot grassy place with rounded rocks, then dropping 3 - 4 feet down to the next bench. So, it was like a big huge stadium in a way, but all in the high mountains above tree line.

We found our way down to the alpine lakes and figured we’d set up camp there. Our way of setting camp was with a tarp, no tent. Being above tree line, and with timber somewhat scarce, and little to tie the tarp to, we decided to lay the tarp out starting from an upper bench, going down over a lower bench where we’d have our little camp. Since there was not much wood, we used rocks to stake and tie down the tarp.

With camp set, off we went to fish the lakes. We caught some 2 lb beautiful native trout and again were lucky to enjoy a big fish dinner. Then we crawled into our bedrolls under that tarp and anticipated a nice long night sleep.

About 4 am we woke up with a start. Our tarp had caved in. It was snowing like crazy. We got up fast, got a fire started with scraps of wood we had gathered earlier. We then collected our stuff up, decided to have a warm meal, and pack on down to a lower – and warmer – elevation.

Another part of the deal of us being allowed by Dad and Mom to take the trip was that we had to buy our food with our own money. So, being the thrifty young men we were, I remember we had bought and packed a bunch of cans of Spagettios. They were sold 2 cans for 15 cents. A bargain. We bought them because they were cheap and easy. There we were in the snow, with a pot of water on the fire, and all we had to do was open the cans, put them in water to heat, and we’d be fed. Of course, it was still snowing, but there we were, huddled under a tarp, each with a spoon, eating from a can of Spagettios as the sky started to get a little light.

Well, we packed up and moved on, over the Divide and on to the other side, moving as quick as we could. It stopped snowing when we finally rode down to an elevation of about at 9000 feet. There, it turned to a light drizzle. We rode on to where the North Fork of Rock Creek meets the South Fork. We had known of an old Ranger Station just up the South Fork and headed that way. We rode up to the old site; no one was there. There was an old barn with a lean-to that was probably built for the Ranger to keep a car sheltered. But since no one had been stationed there for years, we figured that lean-to would be a mighty nice warm, dry shelter for these three wet and cold boys. We put our horses in the barn, and spread out the horse blankets there to dry. Then the three of us went into that lean-to (maybe we could be in prison still for this) and build a fire right in middle of that lean-do. As you can imagine, it was terribly smoky with the fire under that roof and the smoke hovering under the shelter there with us. It was a wonder we didn’t burn that thing down. We ran our ropes across top of lean-to and hung our clothes and bed rolls out to dry in that smoky warm air.

By evening, most everything was pretty dry. We spent a warm, dry night under that shelter, and the next day, rode home.

Birthing notes

2009-05-31T21:12:00.003-06:00

I am delayed sharing birthing notes for our latest foal, born on the morning of the 24th. The delay is intentional. After all the sadness and pain from losing our last one, I have been scared. But scared or not, life is good, and I can’t stop living and enjoying as much as I can because of fear. I’ll do my best to take that to heart for foaling, horsemanship, and every aspect of my life.

Today the proud new Parents (well, at least Owners) of our new foal came to meet their baby, and something inside me started to accept that we have to trust, to believe, and to hope for the future. This little boy is going to have a wonderful life after weaning this fall…

In the meanwhile, a brief sharing of my foaling notes:

6:15 am on a wet and foggy morning. Checked mama Canella’s teats for signs of waxing. None visible. Mental note to self: it’s too muddy to notice waxing! I should wash her teats tonight. Canella is a young Quarter Horse mare, born here at the ranch. This will be her second baby.

9:15 am at the kitchen table doing Spanish lessons with Forrest and I keep looking outside at the pasture fence. Canella is not off grazing with the other horses, but is standing by the fence looking up at the house. She’s calling me! I excuse myself from school, grab a halter and go out to get my little mare. When she sees me, she lies right down. I get her up, and get her off the main pasture, and into our back yard.

9:35 am the baby is born. Last year the baby began to be presented high, through the rectum, and would have torn mama severely but we were able to reach in and reposition the presentation. Mama is a year older now, and the presentation was perfect, the little foal in the diver position, both feet slide out well. Floyd (yes, the Floyd of the stories here!) chose the perfect time to visit, and helped with traction, pulling downward with contractions to help the little mare who was having a bit of trouble getting the shoulders through the birth canal. I opened the sack when the head was fully through, removed mucus from the nasal cavity, and waited as the baby took a minute or so to breath. A healthy young boy presented himself!

He was up on all four within the hour, (Bob took a video clip of this if you'd like to see on YouTube) but finding the teats took a bit longer. After three hours without success, Bob and I milked out the mare and bottle fed baby to ensure he received colostrum in a timely manner. We bottle fed him ever 1 – 2 hours all day long, probably a total of 15 oz, until we were certain he was latching on to mama. By 6 pm, we were confident he figured it out! Baby’s navel was dipped in iodine directly after birth, and two additional times within the first 24 hours. A dose of ProBios was administered at 4 hours old, then additionally for the next 4 days.

Up until today, he’s been called “baby” or Twinkle Toes because of his one white foot which looked golden to my Mama J. Today he’s officially named by his new owner: Fadjurz Ascension. Nick name: Cricket.

Welcome to the world, Cricket. May it be a wonderful life for you.

The owners of Cricket are Patti & Creed de Avanzar of de Avanzar Arabians.

How to slicker-proof a horse

2009-05-30T09:57:00.002-06:00

In consideration of saddling in the rain, the question was raised on how to get a horse slicker-proof.

I don’t. I hate to say that, but it’s true. You can get any horse used to it, comfortable with it, and understanding of what it is so that most of the time he or she will be just fine with it. But I’ll never underestimate the wonderful mind of horse. Being the thoughtful, thinking, yes, even sometimes moody creatures that they are, I can’t guarantee that every day they will be OK with it. Would you be if someone suddenly threw a crinkly big blanket over your back without warning?

Therefore, I never take the act of untying my slicker from the back of my saddle, shaking it open, and slipping it on for granted. Or at least, I try not to, in order to be most respectful of the horse. Instead, I take just a second to let him or her know what I’m doing. “Hey you,” I tell him or her, by sliding the rolled up slicker from behind him and allowing the horse just a second to see it, “I’m putting this on. Remember this?” If I do that, he’s fine. If I don’t have the respect for my horse, or have him so desensitized to stimulations that he’s oblivious, I don’t want to be out there with that horse.

I will “sack out” the horse to the slicker before hand, and a tarp, and a plastic bag, and many other things. This is an essential part of ground work. Approach and retreat with the scary object until the horse is comfortable with it, and has therefore decided “on his own” that he can handle it, that it’s really not so scary. With each object, we build our horses’ confidence.

I do not want to completely desensitize my horse to all objects and motions and movements and sounds. They are horses – their sensitivity is an essential part of their nature, and I don’t want to change the horses’ nature. What I can do is increase their confidence by giving him or her the opportunity to deal with and overcome many challenges; and I can give him or her the necessary tools to handle his or her sensitivity. For example, even the most bomb-proof horse, unless he or she has been so deadened by overstimulation and is in an unnatural state of mental shut down, will spook from time to time. But a spook could and should just be a quick turn towards the object to check it out further, or a quick step to the side. Who among us with a good mind does not get startled from time to time? A horse could and should learn that a scary object, or a spook, is best handled with a simple motion; not a rear, a strike, a bolt, a buck or running back to the barn.

So, I allow my horses the opportunity to become comfortable with the slicker from the ground. Very comfortable. Then I try it from the saddle at a stand still. Slowly. Give him time to get it. Then hang the slicker from a railing or tree and ride the horse over to it; have him approach it, accept it in his own terms, and slowly pull it off and allow your horse to carry it. If it’s easier to start these things from the ground with the horse in hand, take your time, and do it that way. Just give the horse time to accept it, learn it, and realize on his own terms that he’s OK with it. Allow him the time to come to his own comfort level with. Don’t rush it, push it, or force him. Encourage him. Reward him. Pat him and tell him he’s done good.

I don’t think it has ever been a problem unless I (or others) have simply not had the respect for our horse to “tell” him or her what we’re doing, and think it’s OK to just whip open the slicker and shake it all over his back all of a sudden. I don’t know about you, but if I was that horse, and someone threw a fast ball like that at me unexpectedly, I’d be a little ticked off too.

Floyd's Horse Stories: Our first pack trip

2009-05-28T10:20:00.004-06:00

I thought I’d tell you the story of our first pack trip.

After haying, as a reward, Dad and Mom promised Melvin and me that we could take our first pack trip; we could go up and spend a few days up in the mountains at sheep camp. Just us boys. I was 12 at the time; Melvin was 10. Our friend, Robert Kellin, joined us. Robert was 11.

Of course, I was riding Ginger. We had a pinto mare we called Babe that we planned on using for our pack horse. I don’t recall where she had come from, but I remember she was not a good stock horse. We were hoping she’d do better as a pack horse.

To start with, we didn’t have a pack saddle. Instead, we used an old double rig riding saddle. Then, we had no panniers. Instead, we put our gear in a couple gunny sacks, which we hung on each side of the riding saddle. All we took with us was some food and our bedrolls. We didn’t have sleeping bags; the bedrolls were made of wool blankets rolled up in bed tarps.

Well, we got up early that morning, and saddled the horses before sun up. Dad wouldn’t help us on this one; this was our trip.

By the time the three of us and our “sort of” pack horse got to the Gun Barrel Road, only mile away from home, we had to stop and repack.

From there, we headed to the neighbors ranch, across the canal, and onto BLM land. We followed the Rock Creek road to the end, taking a few short cuts across where the old horse trail followed

It was noon, and about 6 re-packs later, when we reached the end of the road and stopped to eat lunch.

After a quick lunch break, we went along the trail up South Rock Creek to Blow Out Pass, then followed the horse trail to the sheep driveway. Mind you, we were still stopping every 30 minutes to repack or readjust.

Three miles up the sheep trail, we entered the neighbors sheep range. There, we ran into the sheep herder, who of course, we knew. Well, we were stopped to repack when he rode up. He offered to help, and repacked our little mare. Tightened up the cinch and lash rope good and snug.

Onward we rode, the 5 miles into Campo Benito. Rode straight through the afternoon; thanks to the sheepherder, we didn’t have to repack once. However, when we go there, the little pinto mare was sick. She lied down and was acting miserable. We’re pretty sure now that the sheepherder had made the lash rope so tight she got sick.

Part of the deal of our being allowed to go by ourselves was that when we got to our sheep range, we had to ride into Summitville to call Mom and let her know were we OK. It wasn’t until about 6 when we got to the range. I rode into Summitville alone, and called Mom while the other two boys stayed back to care for the sick mare.

By the time I got back, the mare was feeling better. We repacked and headed onward to the sheep camp, which was located at the head of Beaver Creek. I had never been over there, but I had good directions and was pretty sure I could figure it out how to get there.

However, by the time we got up on Greyback and started on the pass into Beaver Creek, it was getting dark. As you can imagine, going across the top above treeline in the dark, it was getting harder and harder to find trail. Finally, we came out on little cliff. You could see sheep camp below. The herder was expecting us, and had hung a lantern to help guide us. But unsure of how to get off that cliff, we hollered down. The sheepherder heard us and yelled back up to us, telling us to wait where we were. He rode up and showed us the steep switch back trail down. Good thing. We got down to camp, pulled the bedrolls off the pinto mare, and that’s about all I remember that night. The sheepherder took care of our horses. I don’t even remember having supper. We were three tired kids.

Well, we spent a couple days at sheep camp. Then Dad came up in his truck and hauled us and our horses back home. That was our first pack trip.

Saddle in the rain

2009-05-23T19:25:00.003-06:00

Ah! Rain sweet rain! Greening up our pasture and filling the creeks with the sweet flow of spring from which the horses drink.

I suppose the horses all must be singing about the Mud, sweet mud. They must be loving it: they are covered in it! Why bother even running a brush across their backs? I groomed up my little stud today before a ride, then rubbed him down nice and shiny after when I unsaddled. Only to have him roll in the best mud patch he could find within one minute of being put back out to pasture. No exaggeration. I should have known better.

Saddle in the rain. For better or for worse (I’ll try not to be judgmental here, but I don’t know anyone who is fond of doing this) we have to do this a lot. Some years we get numb to it, day after day with the rain pouring in a solid stream from the brim of my hat, soaking my jeans before I have a chance to get my slicker and chaps on. I can’t comfortably saddle up a string of horses and get a pack string together running around in heavy leathers. It’s awkward, cumbersome. So I wait till that work is done before getting my gear on, and all that’s left for me to do is sit in the wet saddle for the next four hours or so.

Sounds like I’m whining, doesn’t it? I’m not. I actually love it. It’s weird (and/or I’m weird) because I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been out there soaking wet in the saddle all day, and I look around at the soft, lush green of the mountain rolled up in the heavy clouds, and I can’t believe I’m so lucky to be out here, riding, working with my horses and my husband and son, as my soggy dog follows close behind. Calling this a job! At times I love it so much I could cry, and if I did, I’d be so wet already no one would notice and tease me for being so sappy.

Saddle in the rain. I know, it can be a bummer, it’s true. Starting the day off soggy, and knowing your saddle will be soaked before you even have a chance to get up in it, isn’t really great. But nothing that can endure the ropes and rubbing and leathers and brush of a day in the saddle that I know of is truly water proof. So you learn to be wet and dress warm. Silk scarves are good. And wool socks. I’m not beyond wearing Long Johns in July. I have these re-usable hand warmers along with a few pairs of extra gloves handy in my horn bag. You do what it takes.

Saddle in the rain. To me, that means get over it, and get it done anyway. And once you’re on your way, chances are pretty good you’ll find it’s not so bad. You might even find it’s wonderful.

Your veterinarian: considering the choices

2009-05-22T11:34:00.003-06:00

You’ve probably already considered this topic, but since I’ve been through (far too) many vet visits as of late, I am reminded of the importance of establishing a relationship with a veterinarian.

For many, our choices are limited because of location. The closer the vet, the better, as far as emergencies go. More often than not, we are visiting the vet because of emergencies, aren’t we?

However, if you have a choice, consider your options. I’m rather trusting in believing that any vet is going to know far more than I ever will about animal health in general. The intensity of their studies and practice does pay off… And their expertise is irreplaceable.

I can change the oil in my truck and change a flat, but I can’t repair the motor or replace the clutch. I have a good mechanic I trust for that. Specialty service. Trust in the experts. I wouldn’t ask my mechanic to bake me a loaf of bread, clean a rental cabin, or take my guests out for a horseback ride.

So, considering every vet will be in the practice he or she is in because of such specialty knowledge, topped with years of focused experience, we can assume the vast majority are good, and do it because they care about animals. I don’t believe you will go wrong with you choice.

We then can look more closely, and make our choices based on person preferences. Do you like how your vet handles and treats your animals? What could be more personal? If not, keep looking! I can’t imagine anything more important. If your animals are important to you (and I am pretty sure if you’re reading this, that’s a given), why would we accept a vet would doesn’t treat our animals as we want them cared for? The vet I have chosen for our dog and cats I believe truly cares for them. And you can see it, as my critters are pretty comfortable in his presence. My dog is actually happy to visit our vet. That tells me a lot.

Horses are the same way. I have a different vet for our horses, because I am starting to put a great deal of value in continuity. In all my recent disasters, I got tired of telling the same story over and over. So, I’d like to stick with one, and to have her get to know my horses. I like the way she handles them. I imagine her knowledge is no better than the next vet, but her handling is in line with how I want my horses handled.

I believe that every time we interact with our horses, we have an opportunity to improve our relationship with them. We can use every opportunity as a chance for positive training. Even the vet visit. Yes, I know, they can just get it over with and get over it. Chances are, they’ll be OK. But… consider this: if the vet visit is a positive experience for the horse, don’t you bet your horse will be better about handling next time? Why wouldn’t you want to take every opportunity you had to work on a more positive relationship and knowledge base?

Consider again the ongoing relationship. I had been in a situation whereby the working horses were rarely taken to a vet, and if they were taken, it was based on convenience, who was available at that time. As a result, the horse (and I) rarely saw the same vet twice. But isn’t it nice to know you can call up or bring your animal in, and know the animal (and you) will be remembered? Saves a lot of repeating the same history over and over and over… I’m guessing that from the vet’s perspective, this continuity also makes their job a little easier.

For those of us who live remotely, this relationship with a vet who has knowledge of you and your animals is essential. I used to manage a much larger herd of horses (though my luck defiantly was a little better back then). My vet and his assistance would come out once every fall, spend the night, and take care of all our horse needs in those two days. Preg checks, geldings, teeth floating, etc. The rest of the time together was in “consultation.” He’d show me what I’d need to have on hand, and how to use it, so that for the rest of the year I could call him up (yes, I did have phone service back in those days), report the signs and symptoms, and get the best advice possible based on his knowledge of our horses and our facilities, and my knowledge of the information and medications he’d refer to. He would charge for the phone consultations, but would not have to take the time to drive all the way out to our ranch, which at the time was over two hours from his office. It was a win-win deal. Or rather win-win-win. The vet, me, and the horses.

Believe me, I’m the first to wish I knew it all when it comes to horse health. But my recent disasters have reminded me otherwise, and also opened my mind to anyone’s claim to know all the answers. A vet who admits to not having all the answers is probably the wisest. A neighbor who claims to know it all is probably not.

Floyd's Horse Stories: Ranch life in the 1930's

2009-05-20T09:17:00.007-06:00

This is about life on the ranch in 1930’s.

Life was different.

My life started on the Getz Ranch back in 1931. The Getz Ranch was a 1600 acre ranch. I was the first of four boys and a sister. The ranch was owned by my grandfather, though my father and his brother were in process of buying it out when I was a kid. The ranch became known as the Getz Brothers Ranch, and remained in the family for 100 years. My grandfather, grandmother, Uncle Bill and my two maiden aunts lived in the big ranch house on the property; while my dad and our family lived there in a smaller house.

It was a big ranch, one of the bigger ranches of the time, running 1500 head of sheep and 275 head of mother cows. If that wasn’t big enough, in 1941, my uncle and dad bought out the Parma Ranch, a 3800 acre ranch that adjoined ours. The Parma had been foreclosed on during the depression, and neglected for 10 years. When my dad and uncle bought it, haying went from 20 days a year to 60. Seemed like we hayed all summer when we got that ranch…

Putting up hay on the Getz Ranch alone was a big job. We had to put up enough hay to feed 250 head of cattle and 1500 sheep through the winter. It took 15 teams, or 30 horses; and 19 men: 15 men to handle the horses, and four men to stack the hay. Then my two aunts and my mother would be busy taking care of feeding the crew, which was also a pretty big job. Every day, they’d bring a hot lunch out to the hay field: meat, potatoes, vegetables, ice tea, and then always 4-5 pies, every day. The haying operation was 6 days a week, and before they bought the Parma, it usually took about 18-22 working days to put up all the hay. It was a busy time, as you can figure.

As for the horses, well, the 15 teams consisted of 5 horse mowers, 5 sulky rakes, 4 horse buck rakes, and the stacker team. Most of the horses were heavy duty draft type horses of no particular breed. Our stud horse worked out there with the rest of them. He was a big stocky horse named Dick, and was teamed with a mare named Pearl on the mowing machine. When he wasn’t working, we ran him with the rest of the horses and there was no problem; they all got along.

Minnie & Mandy ran the buck rake. Those two were big mares, a Belgium type, though back then, nobody talked about pure breeds. It took a special horse to work the buck rake. The team was not hitched side by side, but rather one on each side of the bull rake. The back wheels of the bull rake were what are called “crazy wheels,” which means they’d come down on an angle, and could turn and go in all directions depending on which way they were pushed or pulled. That way, you could back up the team and the rake, really push or pull it in any direction you wanted to go. The driver was situated in the middle over the wheels, and had quite a job of directing the horses separately at times to move the rake just so. To turn, you’d slow up one horse, and have the outside horse speed up to pull the out side around. When they pushed hay onto the stacker, they had to back up together to pull the bull rake backwards. Sometimes they had to stop, give the pile of hay a push to get the hay onto stacker. They were pretty remarkable.

The other class of horse was the light horses that pulled the sulky rakes. The sulkies were easy to pull, so required a lighter horse. But the sulky was the most dangerous equipment on field because that rake was so light. If the horses spooked, they could take off running with the 12 foot wide rake bouncing behind them.

One time I remember, the horses did run away with the rake. My cousin was driving the team and she fell in front of teeth of the rake. For 200-300 yards, those horses ran, pulling the rake and rolling her in front of the teeth. The only reason we figured she didn’t get killed was because when they ran to the gate they hit the post with the wheel, and it stopped the teams. The gate was only 12 foot wide, and the rake was about the same. To get through, you had to be lined up just right. Fortunately, those running horses didn’t space it perfect. As you can figure, it took a lot of hide off my cousin, but she lived.

The hardest job in the hay field for the teams was the mowing machine. The cutting blade, or sickle, was six feet across, and the team had to pull this machine with enough power to run the sickle. To make matters more difficult, the blade stuck out to one side of the team, so the team had to pull against the drag off to the right from the blade. You had to really work to keep them driving straight, and hold that tongue straight between the two horses. Each night, my dad looked at the necks of the horses and inspected where the collar fit to make sure they weren’t eaten out from the pull of the mower.

I suppose I first became aware of all this around 1937. I was six, and my brother, Melvin was five. We started our first business that year. Can’t say it was much of a success. We started by buying a case of pop and a box of Hershey bars. Then we’d go out in the hay field and hang out by the stack and try to sell them to the hay men. We didn’t sell very many. You’d a thought maybe they would have bought them since we were the bosses sons, but when you’re only making a dollar a day plus room and board, which was the standard back then (2 dollars a day if you supplied your own team), there wasn’t much for pop and candy.

Well, it turned out to be my first business defeat. Our cost was about half of what we sold them for, and about the time we sold about half of our inventory, we were hanging out by the stack, and got distracted by something, which is no real surprise, considering our young age. So, we put the pop and candy on the north side of the stack to stay cool and took off to do something else. While we were gone, they moved the stacker around to the north side of the pile, and started stacking the hay on top of our goods. By the time we returned, there was a pile about 6 feet high already. In the spring when they fed the cattle out, I bet they found some old, moldy goods under there and wondered where they might have come from.

In 1941 when I was 10, my uncle Bill cut down a seat of one of the sulky rakes short enough so I could sit on it, run the rake, and drive the team. To operate the sulky, you hold the rake down with one foot, then lift your foot and step on the trip lever. All this while keeping and eye on the load and directing the team. I ran that sulky rake for two years. Then I was big enough to sit on a regular seat, so my brother Melvin got the short seat

It wasn’t until about 1943 we got our first tractor with a tractor mower. That took the place of two teams. We operated with just 3 horse mowers and that tractor mower for a couple years. Then we got a dump rake for the tractor which took the place of 3 teams. Then a couple years later, we got 2 tractor motors which took the place of all the horses. Things moved much faster with the motorized equipment: we could run the tractors as long as there was light, usually for 2 shifts a day.

We thought we were pretty first class, and I suppose the Getz Ranch was actually rather cutting edge. My Uncle Bill was mechanically inclined. He started with a 1929 Ford Coupe. That’s what he built the first buck rake out of. It wasn’t really heavy enough, so he bought some old Model A trucks and converted them by turning the seat around, moving the steering, and operating them backwards.

In any case, the horses were probably all replaced by tractors for the hay operation by 1946 or 47.

(Photos above: The cute kid in irrigation boots is Floyd standing proud with his shovel next to his dad, both ready to head to work. A field at the Getz Ranch. And the team ready to work for the day, with a foal ready to follow along and learn the ropes.)

Part IV in the series on Horse Packing How-To: Getting the string together

2009-05-19T06:34:00.005-06:00

Getting the string together starts with teaching the horse to both lead a pack string, and be part of the pack string. I never gave this much consideration until last week. Usually it’s just been a quick session of showing the horse what I’d like, what works, and allowing him/her the time and opportunity to get it. Really, it’s that simple.

Using a well seasoned, experienced horse, I’d ride one, and pony the other, then switch off. All of this work has already been introduced on the ground, and at this point, is well comprehended by the horse. The horse is comfortable and knowledgeable with what you are asking. The added ingredient here is only that you are asking the same things from the back of a horse, not from the ground, but that’s a remarkably simple transition for the horse. It only becomes more difficult for the person because of the complications of juggling the two horses at once; and any subtleties of fear and confusion on the part of the rider emerging into the equation.

Ideally, every one of our horses should be able to do it all: lead/pony, be led, and pack, step out as a guide horse, and follow in line as a dude horse. We can train each to do all, but some horses will excell in some things, others in other things. You can train any horse to learn and do anything, but you can’t change who he is. You can’t change his personality, and why would you want to? The best we can do it work with who they are; help them be the best at what they are by developing their strengths and helping the horse overcome his weaknesses; and do our best to help them feel safe and confident and understanding of the work at hand. All with positive leadership, without fighting or working against the horse. Our goal together should be to get whatever job needs to be done, done well and smoothly and comfortably for us, our horses, and any accompanying riders.

I know for many folks, having a “job” to do is not necessarily where you’re at. Most folks are not out here with an actual job. But I think it is all a matter of how you look at the task at hand, how you choose to focus and present the goal to your horse. Your “job” can still be a goal of getting safely and timely to a destination, working on a new skill, or a focused discipline in an arena. If you look at the task at hand with focus, it is still your, and your horses’, job. Somehow, I think it helps both horse and rider to have that focus.

OK, now all this said, last week I ran into the first major complication of this equation: the stallion in the pack string. There may be many a more confident and experienced horseman out there for whom working with a stud is simple business, but it throws me for a bit of a loop from time to time. Each simple task can become an escalated issue. But like everything else in learning to work with my little stud horse, every challenge he presents has become an opportunity for me to fine tune my learning, understanding, patience, leadership, and ultimately, my knowledge and skills as a horseman.

Like with so many specific “problems” we may have with our horse, if we overlook the small details and focus on the big picture, often the small details work themselves out. So, with the stud being quite upset and aggressive with the mare in front of him, being led by the mare (walking around with his nose under his tail, I suppose is a big confusing to the poor boy), we worked this problem out by focusing on leadership. My stud can not breed when his is being ridden by or working with me. Get him out there working with me more, and he’ll remember that there’s a time and a place for everything, and if I’m the leader, and hopefully a fair and good one, he’ll remember his respectful place in our working relationship. If I ask him fairly but firmly to be in line, he can accept it.

For a few days, I rode the little stud on the trail, alternating places in front of (he liked that) and behind (he didn’t like that) the red mare. Eventually he became more comfortable with that place.

Now, although his ears remained pinned back when he’s in the following position, he no longer snakes behind her as if he’s driving or pushing her along, and no longer aggressive, lunging towards her trying to bite her. In due time, I am certain he’ll feel more comfortable in this place. It’s my job to provide him with plenty of good, positive experiences there so that he can become more comfortable more quickly. If I’m afraid of the matter and avoid addressing it, it will not resolve itself. He will never be allowed the chance to get over this if I don’t give him the opportunity.

Or ask my husband to help out. Bob is a far more confident rider than I may ever be. The issues I have with fear do not exist for him. So he is, at times, my secret weapon for helping me overcome a horse obstacle that has me blocked. I see nothing wrong with that trick!

Well, at the end of the week of working on this, we find that this lesson of teaching a horse to follow the lead turned into a good example of rising above the little details, and addressing the bigger picture. This little horse needed a little more time on the trail, a little more time behind the mare, before he could feel comfortable back there. Pretty simple way to work out a “problem.” But please remember this: it has never been so difficult (although it’s hard to call this one really difficult) for Bob or I to teach a horse to follow a lead. Working with this little stud from the mare turned into a good lesson for us, going far beyond this simple matter at hand here of teaching the horse to follow in line. However, these are the great chance opportunities, when the bigger picture emerges and presents us with an occasion to be worked on and improved. And ultimately at the end of the lesson, both horse and horseman have a better understanding and knowledgebase because of the time spent working on one specific skill.

Floyd's Horse Stories: Horses I Have Known

2009-05-17T07:14:00.004-06:00

Floyd’s Stories: Horses I have known, part 2

I rode Ginger to school up until the 6th grade at Rock Creek. That was a school about 4 miles south of Monte Vista, though it is no longer there. When it was time to go to high school, I had to go clear to Monte Vista, and take the bus. But me and Ginger still got to ride, just not back and forth to school every day.

Starting in the fifth grade, and then throughout high school, I spent all of March and April worrying about when school would be out, and hoping it would be done in time so I would not miss out. On May 25, the cattle were taken up to the mountains. I waited all winter for this, and didn’t want to miss it. If school was finished, I could go.

Most years, seemed like the last day of school was on the 25th. I’d leave after school and meet up with the herd at Cornelius Ranch, southwest of Monte Vista. It took us 7 days to drive the cattle to the range. We had an old sheep herders trailer that would follow us along. At night, we’d put up a tent, and the cowboys would sleep in that. When we got to the range, we loaded the horses on the truck and hauled them back to the ranch.

(On a side note here, I was just sitting here listing and writing all this down when Floyd was sharing this story, but now that I’m re-writing is all, I can tell you already I have a lot more questions, and want to hear a lot more details about this!)

In the fall of the year, we’d go back up to the mountains, and round the cattle up and drive them down to Wason Ranch, load them on the railroad, and ship them back to Monte Vista. It took a 100 car train to bring them all back to the valley for the winter. They unloaded at the Zinzer Switch back in Monte Vista and sort them out there between the five permittees who ran their cattle in the high country together. When we had our cattle unloaded and sorted, we’d drive them out to the ranch.

Ginger and I rode together till I graduated high school and went into the service. He died when I was in the service. He was probably 21 or 22. We were just about the same age.

The chrome don't get you home

2009-05-16T07:06:00.004-06:00

The chrome don’t get you home

My son is what you might call a Motor Head. Although his job is and has always been working with horses, his love, so unlike mine, is motors. Riding anything with a motor, working on motors, playing with motors, getting better with motors. You know. So, this expression I borrow from him.

Ah, but how it relates to horsemen!

Maybe you’ve seen it: the person who arrives at a clinic or lesson or group ride with the fanciest of tack, all decked out in the finest of gear.

Maybe you’ve even been there… done that….

For better or for worse, I haven’t. I haven’t had the money to spend on fancy tack. Perhaps one day I will. I’m not saying I’m proud of my bridles repaired with copper rivets and leather laces. But in the meanwhile, they work. And I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter what my headstall looks like, who made my saddle, or what kind of bit I’m using. If I’m a good rider, and good at communicating with my horses, those things are nothing but fluff, nothing but “chrome.”

Good gear does not make a good rider. The horse and rider may look great standing around there in that fine gear. Oh! And they do! But once both get moving, the fancy gear doesn’t make that horse or rider perform any better.

I’ve mentioned before my intrigue in the revival of interest in the Bridle Horse. In theory, the tack meant something to the Vaquero or Californio rider. The tack represented an improvement, a refinement, and a polishing of the horse and rider. The finer tack was a clear representation (to others) of how far advanced horse and rider had evolved, based on the elegance and fine tuning of the work together, based on time working together and an amassing of skills.

My goal for refinement with my horses and in my own horsemanship is to be the best rider and trainer and horseman I can be… without gimmicks, without fancy gear, without spending a fortune on things that in the long run are not improving my horsemanship. If I can achieve the refined results I seek without all this fancy gear, this chrome, then I will feel I’ve really succeeded. But by putting on the fancy gear, and still not being the rider or horseman I want to be… I’m being as false as a coat of shiny paint on an old beater pick up.

Along those lines, I told you before how I was working to introduce my little stud horse, Flying Crow, to the traditional Hackamore. The next stage in my journey to Chromedom. Yesterday, he and I took our first ride out there in the Hackamore and we felt wonderful, smooth, controlled, understanding. But the day before, we were working together just on ground work with my sweet red mare, Tres (yes, still working on that “learning to lead, learning to follow” lesson). Crow was decked out in all the finest: a hand tied rope halter, and home spliced lead rope. Not too fancy. No chrome there.

When my husband offered to go for a quick trail ride with me, I didn’t want to waste time changing gear, so just rode off up the mountain with Crow in that halter. We worked together beautifully. I was pleased with the lightness and ease of communication between the horse and I. I can’t say I “felt” any difference with the old rope halter as I did with the lovely hackamore. I imagine my horse did not either. If anything, I know the halter “felt” only lighter, more comfortable to him.

I guess what I’m trying to figure out here is although my goal is a great refinement, I would like to achieve this fine-tuning with my skills and abilities, not with my tack. I would like to be able to communicate with my horse just as smoothly, effortlessly and elegantly in an old rope halter, or even bridleless, as I could in a spade bit. And as such, I would personally feel as if I was a better horseman, relying more on my personal strengths and weaknesses, not on any fancy bit.

Fooling myself

2009-05-13T20:39:00.004-06:00

All the affirmations in the world won’t save you from feeling like a fool sometimes. I’m there more often than not.

First, I’m convinced that both I worry too much, and I take myself too seriously. But what can I do about that? I try affirmations, but I just don’t believe them. I have not come close to figuring this out yet. I will keep trying.

I entered a blogging contest. Bad idea for the insecure. I should have known better, but I love writing, and am enjoying the blogging community, so I looked upon this as a fun opportunity to participate with fellow bloggers and fellow horsemen. I spent a week working on the post, then a week after that in anticipation of being a part of the community. When the deadline came and went for the big announcement, I figured I’d again been the fool. Nothing new there…

So of course, I’ve spent the last few days adding this to my reasons for wallowing in self pity and self doubt. Come on, girl. Get over it!

Just when I’m ready to lift myself up again from my self made misery, I receive an e-mail telling me the post actually won first place. If you have a moment, please take a look at it on the Enlightened Horsemanship Through Touch blog and tell me what you think. Only nice things, please.

More on feeling like the fool…

So, this afternoon, I’m out there trying to get you some first hand data together for showing you the next entry in the series on Horse Packing How-To. The next in the series was going to be about teaching your horse to both lead the pack string, and be led as a part of the pack string. I thought it would be a swell idea to explain the teaching process while I’m out there teaching… So, I get my little stallion decked out in a regular riding saddle, rope halter and lead, and saddle up my best mare to work off of. Well, we were looking good for about five minutes. If even. Then the stallion started the sweep: ears pinned back, aggressively following the mare. Ran in front of us a few times, in what looked like an attempt to cut us off. Even ran towards us trying to bite the mare a couple times. The mare of course kicks back and dodges his aggressions, but generally puts up with me as I’m on her back trying to communicate obviously not very effectively with the crazed stallion.

Hmmm… time to re-group. This pussy cat of a stallion, who is light like butter on the halter and lead when I’m on the ground. What’s going on inside that odd little stud head of his when I’m up there on his favorite mare?

We worked it out… only somewhat. I’ll try again tomorrow and perhaps find some insight into his behavior that will help us all figure this one out a little better, and work through it.

And maybe even, in the process, I’ll be able to learn what I’m trying to teach.