Blazing Flipiphanies

There IS something about horses, further down, I just had this blather thing going.. I keep deleting a lot, so, jeeesh, I gotta try to not type so much.

Does anybody else cry when they watch the ending to the movie "The Full Monty"? No? Must be me.

Dog Talk...
Have you guys been wondering about my girls? They're ferociously tugging on a helpless frisbee as I type. Flip rumbles loudly with her fiercest growling thunders from the depths of her deep, fearsome killer chest. Blaze, very quietly, grumbles that it's her danged frisbee anyway. Flip loves to rub Blaze's secondary status into her nose.

Blaze outweighs Flip by about 8 pounds, and has inches to spare, both height & paw and ear wise. But Flip is "wilder", and of course, older, and of course, "first" dog.

Blaze FinallY did a predator "straight-UP-Dive Down" jump, after a creature in the snow. Then she moved on. No big deal to her. I howled with laughter, and praised her happily, but, meh, she moved on. Blaze is three years and 2 months old. She will probably never be truly "wild", like her half-sister. I love the freeze, the ears zooming in on the tiny sounds of rodents scratching, the Pounce! Blaze does one pounce per three years, it seems:) Her first pounce was at earthworms, her first spring. Yeah, predator fail.

Blaze doesn't even Like mud. Flip is always enthused by dirt.

Flip will stay in that "seek the creature" zone, seeking/digging, until I call her off, or she decides she's missed. Flip is a "wild" dog. Gotta do what ya gotta Do. When Flip has seeking behaviour switched on, she's in her own little world, a magical kingdom that is all smells and sounds and senses, searching. For some reason, I'm NOT in that world;) (Until I say the right word.)
Flip lives/loves to seek/pounce.

Darned squirrels. The word makes Blaze crayZEE. I mean CraYwithAcapitalZEDeeeeeeee. Chipmunk, geese and rabbit are also just words continuing to electrify Blaze ears, and fire up her paws.

Blaze will gallivant around me, on about a 60' circle, chuckling away as I ask her if she's crazy. She gallops her laps earnestly, ears flailing away in the wind.
Legs a la Pluto Akimbo.

It's a really handy behaviour for when our hour walk just isn't enough for Blaze. She's a leftie, as far as spinning direction. Like me:)

Blaze is alertly awaiting/thinking work, until she falls asleep. Flip comes inside to eat and sleep, and wrestle with her sister, and play matriarch. Mostly she eats and sleeps. Hah, having typed that, Flip is wrestling sister again.

Outdoors, as Blaze and I play, Flip is off killing the BigRedJollyBall, her favourite, the most challenging. Flip likes to become oblivious to anything but the OnE thing she's working on.

Coyote Tangent..
Pretty sure the coyotes shredded MediumBlueJollyBall's handle into a lovely big blue circle, out the back 40, this past fall. They must have been well-fed/bored, to play with something so useless:) Either that, or the one that watched us playing last summer from across the pond got the idea. Coyotes live to Seek, too.

Here's a picture of Flip and BigBlueJollyBall, the first winter we had her.

Flip likes to squash Jollies, with her chest. Big fan of flattening, is Flip:) She counts/hoards her toys this way. She'll end up lying on top of a FrisBee, several stuffies, and a nylabone. Maybe she was a laying hen in a past life;)

Same winter..
Flip diggin' some mice or moles or other hapless rodent:)


Temple Grandin's new book is giving me triple-flip epiphanies when it comes to understanding my behaviour quandaries. She's noticed so many of the same things as me, and I'm only just into the chapter about horses. Her dog chapter was a great summation of the basics we've figured out so far. She liked "Merle's Door", too.

Fascinating, so true, paring their/OUR behaviour down like that. Fear is making clearer sense to me.

OH, this was funny. Kid sister's Millie-dog is our family's canine matriarch, and a deity of GREAT respect accorded by puppy Blaze. Ol' Millie takes no shite from no puppies. Anyway, Millie-Dillie had the frisbee, Blaze wanted the frisbee. No way in the WORLD would Blaze even dream of playing tug with Millie. Millie was totally game for it. OMG, No. Blaze's face was just scandalized that we'd even suggest it!

Blaze has slowly, cautiously learned to play tug with Flip, and Blaze gets a shivery thing going with her mouth, not panting, just, ohohohohohOH. OHverExcitement. Scorpios ThrivE on it;)

Horse Epiphany, out of the Blue
OH, and I recently realized another thing. It's pretty simple. I can't believe it hasn't been mentioned before. I'm positive it has, SOMEwhere. I am most certainly not that unique. I might even be wrong:)
If you look at your position, on the horse, and you can imagine holding that exact same position, on the ground, would you fall over i.e. lose your balance? If your answer is yes, you can hold that position...
THAT's balance.

That's what Christilot Boylen's nasty leg exercise helps the most with.

Keep yourself, balanced over yourself.
Horses are a coiled spring of energy. So are you.
(are not)
Are TOO!

This picture, from the stone ages, clearly shows that I was bloody lucky to survive my early years over fences, with my neck in one piece. That's what first mare taught me too. Keep your leg underneath you. NOT like this...


Compare to this picture, seventeen years later. If you pick me up, and put me on the ground, I will not lose my balance.


Temple Grandin Epiphany One.
Seeking is even more fun than finding.. It's so obvious, isn't it?
Give an animal a purpose, a goal. They seek. As do we.

Seeking can be an antidote for fear. Begin seeking peppermints, HP's Top did. Exactly.

Whoah, choking on the Yoda pill, and out...

Christmas Presence

If you can guess where this duck picture was taken, you will win a FABUlous picture of me 'n Tad Plaid. Why I thought my Dad would want a framed picture of me and my horse is unknown, but he gently, eventually, told me to take it home. I already have one. Jeeeeesh, Mom would have taken one! That's the trouble with Dad's, they really don't want more stuff. Especially horsey stuff. Humph. If it was a golf-ball holder.. Or some form of sport crap...

It is a great old shot of an amateur with her mouth open:)

It would be fun to ask for a critique on COTH, but hey, they have enough to do. And of course, it wouldn't sting me in the slightest, which is entirely the point, it seems. I always critiqued myself. It was fun.

I'll donate this pic to the first right answer. You can then sell the frame or something, and burn the picture. Sacrifice it to the pro-snark deities. Or whatever. So, the big question IS, Where are those ducks???

My Christmas Grove of Stick Tree and Rosemary Tree.
Isn't it lovely? Dontcha think Martha will be calling soon? Yeah, me neither.


Notice the "Barbie" Card, above Centered Riding. snerkle... It's a new decoration this year! You wouldn't believe how long it took me to do this Christmas extravaganza. I am totally exhausted. Send money, I feel a bout of Vincent Van Gogh-lia coming on:)
Sorry, inside joke, if you read anywhere else, you'll know there are horrors to be seen. Overandoverandover. STOP looking, fcs. Ooops. Sorry.

Today is my day to say this. Good day to die, grasshoppah.

Since I discovered the horsey internet, last year, I've been seeking the answer to a lifelong wondering. Why is "BarnBitch Syndrome" considered normal? It's the biggest problem facing horses today. Ask any of my terrified readers. How easy is it to ask a question, and not sound stupid? Why do you think questions are NOT asked? I'm tired of it, and I'm still on the side of civilized discourse, horsey wise:)

I'll tell you a mercifully brief story, which will help you understand why I've been wondering this for a long time. I started riding when I was 11. I wanted to from about the age of 1 and a half, when Butch rollcured/galloped into my life. Silly parents. Plant a seed. It's bound to grow.

Anyway, I started riding at a boarding/schooling barn, good old First/Worst, and was um, less mature and way more naive than the other girls. Most were at least 14 to 18. I looked like a dang stick until I was 38, but that's another story. The oldest "girl" was about 20. Top rider on the property, rode all of F/W guy's show/sale-horses. We'll call her AngelinaJolie, because she was that gorgeous, that felinely beautiful. Her "friends/cohorts/fellow riders" seemed to delight in snickering about her emotionalisms.

I didn't really understand what they were talking about, but sleeping pills before horse shows was gossiped about, and substituting "Smarties" was my idea, during one particularly merciless roasting, which AngelinaJ. just happened to walk in on. I hero-worshiped AJ. She rode like a master. The look on her face as the tackroom went silent made my heart shiver. See, I really started hating snarking right then and there, when I was 11. I was so ashamed. Why, just why?

I started teaching pretty young, at age 14. One of the things I quickly learned, was "you cannot laugh at your students". I mean, it seems obvious, doesn't it? I've never found beginnerdom funny. I guess I always felt too close to that outlook. I always wanted to know more. Still do.

If you can't say something nice about someone else and/or their horse, say something knowledgeable, politely, or say nothing at all. Unless of course, it's time to call the police or something. Or you're watching someone reefing the snot out of a horse's mouth, for no good reason. then, please, say something. Try to use your power voice. Try. But be careful out there!

Here's an old post of mine that still makes me cry. Weird old broad I am. I guess some find that scary;) Sorry. LessonsWithGoLightly

Merry Christmas to all, and to snark, Good night.

Fit For Riding

Butch STILL hasn't finished his new book yet:) He's been all distracted since I showed him Dena's Micah's Daisy. I've tried to explain, rollers can't do rockers, but nope. Dumb oldblood.
I am totally avoiding decorating my rock.


snicker.. Which one is Loopy?


The Tree of Sticks:)
This is one of the keepers, over many years now of "erm, thanks!" gifts from in-laws. Darn thing will not quit. Who Knew you could keep re-using your Christmas Tree? Unadorned here, of course, just some afterthought-where-do-I-put-this everyday stuff:) Cardinals are my favourite bird, we have conversations in the summer time. They play a big part in my feeble attempts at "decor".

Okay, Fit, for riding?
Or, how not to have a fit.
Reasons you give yourself fits.
Because you are not "that" fit. You are slightly crooked in your body design. You have round, not long narrow, thighs. None of that matters, today, on this horse.

You can't lose the fear that can haunt you, if you don't learn how to lose it while you're up there. Muscles remember fear, just as they remember a knee-jerk reaction. You help your body re-learn to relax and Let Go, on the *grope* (explanation forthcoming). Then your horse starts to Go, too.

The best way to allow yourself to follow any horse's movement, independent of your hands, is on the longe line. With a sympathetic groper. I mean lunger person. See, Longer is wrong:)
Now, the longe line can also be spelled the lunge line. It's odd, but it's true.
I theorize that the words "long rope" were contracted to "longe".

"Grope" didn't have quite the same ring to it. But it works, in an evil way, too. You can "grope" a little with your hips, like a blind person searching for the next solid object. When you're on the longe, you can disconnect your two halves of your body, and allow the top half to simply follow the bottom half.. What the heck else can it do, anyway?;)

Tack GoLightly up, will ya? Saddle first, of course. (Amazes me how many riders will put the bridle on first.) Look how he wiggles his nose at the bit, seeking it, opening his mouth, helping you out. I love a horse that looks forward to it's job.

Now, let's get goin'!

You know that scene in "The Black Stallion" where they are galloping on the beach? Kid puts his arms in the air and just allows the go to happen. Bliss occurs. Above your hips is suddenly weightless, because you have no weight to be afraid of, in your hands.
People spend too much time, while they're on, thinking about what should be happening, what has happened, what will happen.

Why not let it happen? That's what the long rope is all about.

You can experiment with the different balances your body achieves, in three different positions. The dreaded two-point, the normal-vertical seat, and the "behind the motion" seat or driving seat. And you'll often discover these different positions by the horse's own reactions to your changing angles and weight shifts. The goal is to ride the horse with as little discomfort as possible. To You, too.

The horse over time,learns to make the adjustments necessary to relieve whatever discomfort his rider or his management applies to him, sometimes knowingly, often not. Same goes for the rider, it's a two-way street.

I guess I'm trying to say that if the horse is bouncing your kidneys out, don't automatically blame yourself:)

All of this while I stand on the end of the long rope, and with the help of my SchoolMaster, GoLightly, using loosely fitted, perfectly even side-reins, I'll be able to show you tiny flexions, AND straightening. How YoU sit, when the horse is in these positions. You see, long roping doesn't even have to be done on a constant circle. It is easier on your equilibrium to think of riding boxes instead of circles. (stops the dizzies)

Isn't it wonderful to just let him Go. Keep your stirrups for now, let's warm him up a little. Trot on, close your eyes if you like, imagine which way you want to go! I'd recommend forward and straight, to start. You don't bend into a pretzel when you turn a corner, neither does your horse. I'll follow your lead, and just allow the horse to go forward. (My lead?? You're thinking. Well, who's riding the horse?) I let you do whatever is comfortable. We use the end of an arena, or the corner of a paddock, with clearly marked boundaries. You feel utterly safe.

Relax... Getting behind him a bit? Big trot, huh. Take your inside hand and grab the pommel of the saddle with a finger or two, and pull your "fork" forward, while stretching down low and long with your legs. Allow the horse's turning to square your shoulders to his. You mirror the horse.

Yes. Feel that? Hang on, his trot stride is humungous. Let's walk, catch your breath. yeah. He's one hell of a horse, this big bay GoLightly horse.

(I couldn't keep the groping joke going, this IS G-Rated, I think. Ya never know with horse blogs:)

I was chuckling to myself, about an old schoolie of HSE's called Red Cloud. Tall bay blanket Appy. Narrow as a rail, choppier strided than a square-wheeled car. He really was reserved for the advanced riders, as he'd have turned ANYone off of riding, in the first five minutes of his trot.

ow, ow, OW. Horses are PAINful. First Timer thinks "To heck with this! Riders must be freakin' masochists!"

Red Cloud was a good jumper, and well-broke. He just bounced beginners right off, over the side as it were. Nothing malicious, he was HARD to sit properly, and man, it wasn't that pleasant anyway. There's a reason we sculptured their bodies to make them more comfortable. Our backs.

Red Cloud has retired:) Jumping was pretty hard on Red Cloud, given his conformation. His high neck attachment gave him an extra jolt of talent for over fences work, though. He was fun to ride, and two-point was your friend:)

Now, I can hear you thinking "But, shouldn't I be able to sit any & ALL horses movement comfortably?"
Strike off the "comfortably", and I can agree. Depending on your own physical limitations, be they self-inflicted falls or whatever, or age, or knees giving out etc., some horse types can be extremely hard on your returning to riding body, after however long a hiatus.

Not necessarily because of huge movement, but because of the horse's own "way of going". It's unique, to each and every horse alive. It's how the two of you can manage to fit together, that matters.

I think Red-Cloud learned how to rid himself of beginners. Just the right ooomph...

Don't forget the exercises! Do extra, whenever you can, that increases your balance, and/or symmetry. It's a life long thing, the striving for balance and strength.

Okay, if I don't start to decorate now, I NeveR will.

Thanks for being there!

Okay, this time, let's try it without your stirrups.

Anthropopreposterocious!TwoToo

And a few more shots of my old first mare. Just for fun, and posterosity:)
(Posterity, if any spelling police are lurking...)

I was totally clueless about a heck of a lot of things, like fashion sense. Those are indeed, canary-yellow breeches. Oh, yeah. How do ya like my Moccasin Boots? Hey, it's 1969, I am groooovy. I was clueless, but I knew enough to turn out my mare before I worked with her. Round pens weren't even invented yet;) I'm just playing with her, chasing her around like the predator I am. She's having a blast. Cute fat pony in the background, huh?

She was a lovely mare, wasn't she. I wish I had more pictures of her. Not a one over fences. She wasn't particularly scopey, but she always pinned well in the hacks. I wish I'd appreciated her more. Her height rankled me. I kept jammin' ZEV down her, hoping she'd at least stick 15.3, but nope. Her genetics decreed 15.2 and a half, and that was IT.




Anthropopreposterocious!
I have a fourth meaning, which hopefully will be clearer than my third meaning.

The biggest mistakes we make as animal handlers usually/always stems from a lack of anthropomorphism, in reverse. Or, animopomorphism, where we assume our reactions are shared by our animals, in every instance. Hey, if nothing else, this post may be helpful at Scrabble games.
So, I find it anthropopreposterocious that many humans insist on denying their own anthropomorphistic tendencies. There is nothing wrong with ascribing "human" emotions to animals. Just make sure you correctly ascertain which emotion you're seeing in the animal.

Truly Bizarro Movie, from 1967..
Hah, half watching a 1967 movie "Reflections in a Golden Eye". Marlon Brando, Liz Taylor and Brian Keith?? On a military base, horse farm too. Half watching it for the horses. Looks like Liz is riding an Andalusian. Brian Keith isn't a terrible rider! They go flying over steeplechase type fences, and nobody falls off!

Marlon plays a repressed homosexual General or something. Both he and his movie wife Liz are hot for this Strange Sombre Soldier Stable Boy. SSSSB is admired as a horse whisperer, and has an odd propensity for going hacking in the nude, and hiding in Liz's room and smelling her clothing, while she sleeps. Liz is having an affair with Brian Keith.. Marlon is a terrible rider, no acting required.

WEIRD, strangely funny movie... OMG, there's Julie Harris, playing Brian Keith's cheated wife.. Lots of ominous music. Cast of frickin' thousands. John Huston directed. Not one of his finer moments..

Good GRIEF! Marlon Brando rides (badly), and then beats the living snot out of Liz Taylor's special Andalusian horse!! Liz Taylor thrashes Marlon on the head with her riding crop! Marlon shoots/kills (in Liz's bedroom) the mysterious SSSSB peeping-tom/panty-sniffer buck-nekkid-riding soldier groom guy horse whisperer!! The final scene is three jerked camera shots, repeated over and over. One, of Marlon, his face contorted with killing rage. One of Liz, doing her best "ScrEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!". One of the dead SSSSB. The dead guy totally steals the scene.

JEESH! Now THAT is Drama, folks, with a capital MA. Whatever John Huston was smoking, it just wasn't a good thing.

Looks like there was some pretty screwed up morals going on that year. That explains so much, doesn't it?? 1967. Bad year to be foaled out, so many crazy changes in the world were going on. Good changes, some of them, don't get me wrong. I'm talkin' purely from the broodmare's stress point of view;)
Makes me nervous, just thinking about it:)

Only a very few, very special people turned out right, like Fern Valley. And of course, any of my other precious few readers born that very odd year. 1967. Feelin' grooovy...

OH, I'm reading TempleGrandin's book, "Animals Make Us Human". My neck's hurting from nodding agreement at so much of what she's saying.
Fascinating woman, she is. We are animals, deep down. Deep down, is where we're trying to get at, when we work with them. Oh, crap, never mind. I have to keep reading:)

I'll be back before Christmas, (I know you're anxiously awaiting my dried-up stick tree picture) but if I miss you, have a merry, safe, warm, well-fed Christmas.

To Good Horses, at any time of year!

Okay, and to bad Movies, well worth the sociological study. We can learn a lot from past mistakes. We CAN. Doesn't mean we will:)

BlindHills,andaHorseShow

When I was a weird little kid growing up, I distinctly remember having a terrible fear of blind hills. As in, if I couldn't see ahead, and knew only that I was going up even a tiny incline, I was petrified. This was in those newfangled things called cars, of course. A strange experience for any creature new to them.

I couldn't have been more than 3 or 4. Nothing my parents said could convince me that the other side of what I couldn't see wasn't threatening. I thought the earth was just a giant hole, on the other side of that hill. Huge fusses were made. Sorry, Mom:(

I also remember having a hearty dislike/distrust for red lights and green lights. I didn't BELIEVE that people going the red way would stop. Of course, driving today, my apprehensions are often justified.

I hate blind hills, and I'm very wary/aware of blind turns, to this day. It just is, and I've learned over many years to compensate for it. I still don't trust people to always stop at a red. I see that a bit, driving in Toronto. Not very beneficial for my heart rate.

In most situations, I am always trying to "see" ahead. It gets annoying for my friends:)
All three of them.
That's the horse part of me, I figure. I want to KnoW what's coming. Horses are always on the look. It's how they live. Look, listen, live.

So, when you put horses into an environment with very little "look" to it, like an arena or a familiarly closed in area, they can and do get bored pretty quickly. This is when the ghosts and goblins start appearing. They start making up ideas of what "could" be happening:)

Did you SEE that cougar? EEEEEEEEK. Total phobias and terrible disobediences can ensue, without gentle, patient, firm handling. I tire of hearing how the horse is....

Yeah, yeah, ride the darn thing. Show him a blind hill or two. He'll wake up.
They want to go forward, looking. Let them!

Mild rant completed. Scanning for more interesting blather..

OH, I did this, for fun..
My Show with GoLightly.
I told you I'd found my old journals, detailing the life and rather monotonous tribulations of one GoLightly rider/school barn teacher/resident nutbar. These are scans from those journal entries, about the one and only show I took my master horse to. What a marvelous day it was!

My nerves the (day and) night before the show, were mostly assuaged by my father's idea of going to bed late, so I'd sleep deeply, if briefly. Then, I'd be tired enough the next day to HavE to relax. It worked perfectly, for the first class. Here's the excerpt..

"My nerves clutched just a little, as we were driving to the show, and then a calm feeling just settled over me. I warmed GoLightly up before my first round, rubbing shoulders with the big guys, and felt as if I belonged. I whistled away quietly, humming occasionally, enjoying myself thoroughly. GoLightly was alert and super-responsive, faster on his feet, as his adrenaline was up. He felt super-charged! One fairly insane looking horse kept spooking and leaping, and at one point would have landed on us, if GoLightly hadn't listened & responded and figured it out so well.

I borrowed C's new paddock boots, but they were not comfortable like my old ratty ones. My left foot kept slipping out of my stirrup, which was a reflection of the fact that I rode a hole too long. I should have shortened them, but I wanted to be comfortable.

The first class was huge, 106 entries, and I didn't show until around 10:30am. We walked the course, Peter, another student and I. It looked low and easy. My warm-up was very relaxed (except for the annoying stirrup).

I had a long wait in the chute after our warm-up, which I spent reviewing the course and relaxing. Horses ahead of us were having problems. Peter was mildly surprised by my lack of nerves, and snapped a few questions at me, which I answered quickly and correctly.

(Fence #6 is at the top end of the ring, #3 is to the right of the 7th jump, sorry for the scribbling!)

Peter had cautioned against riding too passively to the first fence, and GoLightly agreed, 'cause he didn't see the quieter spot, and left a little earlier than I'd planned. Clever boy. Throughout the whole course, we felt.. beautiful, perfect, in tune, in-sync and we finished clean. GoLightly was supreme. As we started the Immediate jump-off round followed with these types of classes, I almost forgot to go through the finish line!

(continued on the second picture, sorry for the confusion. The second picture is of the second class's course.)

I had four faults in the jump-off, rode too easy to the number 8, a narrow vertical wall. I saw an easy distance, and GoLightly happily knocked it down, as I'd assumed he'd see it as easy, too.

(I should have held him together more. I often softened too much, when I saw a good distance coming. I'd "throw the horse away", instead of staying with him/supporting him.)



"The second course was a little different! The wait between the two classes was about 3 hours, and I was starting to get tired by the time it was my turn to warm-up again. I was STILL losing the one stirrup in the second warm-up, but even more often than in the first. This worried me a little. We jumped well in the warm-up though, and Peter tried to get GoLightly to catch a rub, but he was just too sharp.

Unfortunately, I wasn't. I expected a chance to relax in the chute again, but the class was moving more quickly, and there was no-one on deck, so I had to go straight in, without even a parting question to Peter. I felt a little unprepared. We picked up a canter, did half a flying change, and generally looked dumb while I tried to get organized. Poor GoLightly was a little confused, too.

I finally got my shite together, and found the exact same "easy" spot to the narrow wall #8 fence from the first jump-off. It was now fence number one. GoLightly happily knocked it down again, 'cause I let him get loose and lazy. We jumped the second fence, a big oxer, perfectly, then I lost my left stirrup again, and didn't regain it until I pulled up in the corner, before fence 6.

(It's the * mark, in the second picture.) (* mark in the first picture is where I had the four faults in the jump-off.)
Confused? Sorry. I was there, y'see, and I still remember that course. One of those unforgettable, great days in my life, to that point.

The rest of the course rode like a dream. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy with the second round, and Peter gave me a mercifully brief scolding for being so stupid in the opening circle.

GoLightly has been cranky the week following the show. The usual "let-down", or anti-climax, after a show. I have had a really hard time staying awake this week."

Cool, huh? 1984, and the learning experiences are still the same.
Wear clothes you are comfy with, stay focused, ride the horse over every fence.

Have fun, and look/think ahead!

Everyone Who Owns/Breeds Horses should have to Watch This, oh, and get what they're saying. Great points are made, education being the key.

Frustrations and Foibles

Found in a Montana History book, from 1919. Just HAD to share:) Thanks to NCC for the pic! Me at my very first show, Uxbridge Fair, 1966. Not ONE lousy ribbon. Boy, was I frustrated.

Try to stay with me, it's a multitude of sins I'm trying to cover here. But mostly, I think we women need to recognize the nasty emotion we feel, whenever we do not get whatever it is that we want/politely ask for/desire. I'd like to quote from a trainer's site, without her permission, for edumacational purposes only. "Functional equitation should not be confused with show ring equitation; what wins in Equitation classes in the show ring is based on fashion and what looks nice to the judge, which may not be the most effective position for all horses and riders." Um, what?? and this.. "I was definitely not a Natural Rider and it frustrated me when learning…I had the desire and the commitment yet I just was not able to ride the way I wanted to! It was very frustrating, but as my trainer WAS a natural rider she was unable to understand or help with this problem. Most coaches are natural riders which is why it can be difficult to find help correcting this type of issue."

I give this rider an "A" for due diligence, but a "D" for attitude. Blaming your coach isn't an attitude to take to a lesson. Dismissing basic equitation principles, because they frustrate you, isn't the answer. Why? Letting frustration colour any/every facet of your life is recipe for disaster, especially if you work with/own/love animals. Equitation ideals are based on solid principles. That's been true longer than I've been around, anyway. But I guess the questionably fashionable "pickle-up-yer-butt" equitation style of the 90's does put a wee crimp in my argument.

I'd like to make a hugely annoying generalization again, because they are my forte. I think men deal with frustration far more easily than women. (smiles innocently.) They can release frustrations much more easily than we can, and they don't seem to dwell on them, as I do, anyway. Men seem to explode (in a variety of ways), and move on, with no side/ill effects. Even a whiff of our frustration emotion can send animals scattering.

Frustration can happen in any situation, with any type of outcome. Obviously the (ahem) more obvious frustrations will not be dealt with here. That's your problem;) Frustrations in training happen all the time, at any time. Just the ThoughT of being frustrated can frustrate you. My dogs can hear even a molecule of impatience/frustration/hurry-the-hell-up in my body language, scent and voice. It hampers how you deal, with anything. Everybody. Obviously. Or not, of course. It's so EASY to feel it, very hard to tamp it down, depending on various factors, often beyond your control. Which is kind of the definition of frustration. Loss of control.

Animals show frustration quickly, and do their best to release it. If they can't, one gets the repetitive behaviours, the bane of any animal keeper/trainer. Weaving. Cribbing. Aggression. Stall-walking. You name it, the animal does try to express it. Again, they don't try to hide it. Women are expected to be patient, and full of the anti-frustration. Fulfillment. But when we get on the horse, or snap on that dog's leash, or ask husband for some help, that cacophony of "make sure/relax this/thrust this/force this" stiffens every part of our body, IF we let that cacophony start. Shhhhhhh. Get on, relax. Let all the voices telling you to ride the way you USED to, stfu. Let your body turn into a wiggling bowl of jello. Jello is a natural rider:)

Our own "want to RIDE like Beezie" (or insert your own hero here) frustration overwhelms our bodies, if we LET it. It shows in our shoulders/arms and hands, usually, first. Usually. It shows in our seat. Instead of going with the motion, we ride against it, stiffening against the flow. Women try so darn HARD. Men just go with whatever is happening. Their frustrations don't even measure on the Richter scale of emotion. When they do become frustrated, they deal with it, let it go. Women throw kindling on it. A woman's frustration with herself is a volatile, powerful thing. It can hurt you. Don't let it.

If you feel that little flame starting to flicker, blow it out, tamp it down. How? Breathe. Pretend you're a stripper, or something. Make yourself laugh with yourself. Hum a stripper tune. Not that I know any, except for Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On". Hey, the old bump and grind is good for flexibility in your hips. That is not something your mother will teach you.  FernValley is arguably the best breeder of Appaloosa Horses in Canada Land, I have awarded her an incredibly weird prize. Also, just because Fern's an amazing person. Check out her babies. Check out Classy's Video. What a mover. In my horse time, Appys didn't move like that. I'm so glad there are breeders out there like Fern, actually improving the breed! Fern won't believe what she's getting, assuming Canada Post does their job. Martin will try to share. Only if he hasn't frustrated you recently, Fern:)

To The End of all Frustrations. yeah, as IF;)

JumpCrazy

Jump Crazy Kid, 1967.
It's taken me a long time, but I've evolved, from the jump crazy kid I was, pictured above, 1966 or so, into this weird semi-pro anti-pseudo-pro horseless horse person. I think.

Jump Crazies

It's a common disease amongst most riders interested in English disciplines. They get hooked on the thrill, and the power, and the flight they can achieve with each jump. It's an adrenaline high. Addictive in young women, if left to their own devices. Trouble is, the horse only has so many good jumps in him. No matter what type of horse he is! I wish I'd known that in my youth. I thought they were bullet-proof, horses' legs. They ain't.

Jumping any horse, dayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterdayafterday, just shouldn't happen. Period. Variety is the spice of life. Variety is their life. Stumbling around the same ring, or the same pen, or the same arena, is a set-up for failure. They need varied footing. They need varied settings. They need variety! It's better for their movement, and their brains. And their HOOVES. Sorry, didn't really mean to shout. But good grief...

In my horse time (IMHT), hunter/jumpers were sound horses. There were unethical trainers, of course, but I'd learned to avoid them by then. One of the reasons these horses stayed sound? They were only jumped once or twice a week. They were not longed to death. They had turn-out.

I wonder, has that changed? Are lessons and schooling at the Schooling/Showing barns really all about the over fences portion of the program? That isn't right. It wasn't right when I was teaching, and it isn't right now. There isn't a horse alive that ShoulD be jumping every day.

I lost students to the big lessons barns, when I would refuse to let them jump at every lesson. But the students that stayed with me, became true horsemen. They wanted to learn horsemanship. It's the most important part of riding.
You know, the Horse.

At least, to Me. I get the feeling I'm a vocal minority, more and more. Oh, well.
I know my schoolies appreciated me. I had advanced students on set days through the week and on weekends. They didn't always jump. Really. Not a peep would you have heard, from any of them, with a complaint. Not because I was nasty, either. They were LEARNING about HORSES. That's what a SCHOOL is all about.


Spartacus, my Sparky.

He had most every kind of ringbone there was, and he'd proudly stand while we dissected his front legs, conformationally speaking. Not literally. Ew. High ringbone, Low, sidebone, too, all the way around.

My students bought their own Pony Club Manuals. They could not take a lesson until they'd proven they'd bought one. As they progressed, they were given written quizzes and tests, based on the old pcmanual, and on my own diabolical mind.

sigh. They were such fun to grade, and the comments I gave them kept them coming back for more. Always positive comments. Always helpful. Humourous. Okay, how DO you spell humerous? Nope. CRAP. Humorous. That's the American spelling, Blogger! Never mind. Frickin' gently funny.

You know, things like "What is ringbone?" Bonus Points if you knew "Do any of the our horses have it?" I worked out four "levels" of Horsemanship, which students could work towards. Their reward? They knew a lot more, after they started. The ones lucky enough to go on to horse-ownership do me so proud.

The really advanced, "poor" students, you know, pretty darn good for once a week riding, were able to show a few times during the summer, and my old boys (almost) always walked away with something satin. Colour didn't matter.

The really, really REALLY good kids, broke my heart. You know, the ones without enough capital or enough capital, but their purchase inevitably foundered, or colicked, or ate a strange blade of grass. One shot is all most of these people had.

See, I knew how they felt.

Brain is stuck on ringbone, for some odd reason. Old Spartacus, he had it. Sound as a dollar, once he got moving. Isn't that the POINT with horses? At least attempt to keep them moving. Or move them a LOT, so they want to stand and doze in their stalls for a few hours.
Uh, oh, I feel the rant petering out. Lucky for YoU!

Oh, WAIT! that's my bleedin' point, anyway. Spartacus wasn't "sound". Neither am I, for that matter. Very, very very few "perfectly" sound horses out there. Okay, Milton. Okay, there are many. LOOK at their danged conformation, what else would you expect? Be ready, be ready, PLEASE, before you attempt to salvage that "gasp" rescue, or that lovely, lovely coloured horsie. If you know what's wrong, you'll be ready. Always nice to be prepared, I always say. Learn all you can.

Drat, pinged right past my point again. Dang tangents...

Don't jump your dang horses too much! Manage them well, be prepared with knowledge of their faults, and they can and will stay serviceably sound, for many, many years.
(I looked up serviceably, blogger. Screw you, buy a dictionary).

Lets see, what can I end with that's guaranteed to get roars of outrage?
Rollkur is for professionals. Not pseudos. Pseudos have no idea what they're talkin' about.

TAHHHH, Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Grumbling, and out.
OH, I forgot, we do need at least ONE more picture...
hmmmmm.

Three of "my" kids, 1981.

They weren't allowed to be jump crazy, either.

OH, this is apropos of absolutely nothing. For anybody that has hated ABBA, the Swedish group, for YearS, as I have, watch the movie "Mamma Mia". I LOVE musicals. This was hilariously funny, and the first real obvious use for ABBA music...

Mamma Mia, here I go again. Still, it's much less creepy than humming Sweeney Todd. Odd. I'm horseless, and I'm humming ABBA. Hell really Has frozen over..

RumblingsRanklings&Rowings

CRAP, I looked everywhere for this picture. Now i find it, one post later.
I present, Up and Rising, StinkinSlinkin Flip!

Mick Jagger said it best, didn't he?
Great song, that, "Emotional Rescue". I've grown up fairly cynical, and acquired a pretty healthy distrust of the horse business in general, horse people in particular. Present company not included:)
It's just how my brain learned to generalize.

Generally Speaking...
The horse business is not generally kind to the less wealthy. The resentment fomented by watching the wealthies own horses/show horses/win ribbons, with little talent, and less empathy, still can bubble up inside me, reading some of the ridiculous complaints spoiled brat owners have with their horses.. I'm not even talking about the WAY-less talented, here. And it's been years, people. YearS.

Many talented horse people were just never born to big bucks. I'll bet it just drives some of them pretty batty. Happened with me, anyway. It's hard for the horse crazy person to realize how little they can actually afford it. Properly, that is.
If only, if only, if only.

Money will never buy talent for the rider. But there's lots of money to buy a generous horse, which will mask the rider's flaws, and make it seem like the rider is a hero. Only the horse and I know the truth. The general public will still gasp with admiration. And in this world, it seems to be all about the gasp.
The general public far outweighs the horse-owning public.

Higher levels of understanding horse-flesh are not available at the beginner levels. At least, not Enough. Seems to mE, anyway.
Whoah, where did that come from?? Never mind. Have an egg!

OH, and a totally embarrassing story must be told, so you all can understand my pomposity is never without considerable air. And for Padraigin, because she'll know why I type it.
For Horses. Let's be ready. Aye, ready.

(Correct me too, but I don't remember learning the "Door" rule from the Pony Club Manual.)

Embarrassed;)
I was 14-15 or so, at a nice barn visiting with some older friends and their horse. An OTTB, big bay gelding was this wonderfully kind woman's pride and joy. She and her sisters had been very kind with me, and had helped me through some tough times. That's the family of sisters who did the faded "pointillist" piece for me, long ago.
This one:


ANyway, big OTTB is standing gleaming in the cross-ties. Proudly bedecked in a new leather halter, with newest glistening white sheep-skin padding on the poll and cheeks and nose-band, for shipping his precious self.
I threw my arms around his long, braided/polished neck, squealing how beautiful he looked. OTTB promptly, prudently broke his cross-ties and his new lovely leather halter. I type this memory to take the sting out of it. It STILL stings. Ouch.

At that age... Nice lady was very sweet about it, but gah. Dumb kid. Doesn't matter where/what/how you learn though.
It's what sticks that counts.

Horses are not large dogs or cats. Prey animals have a totally different outlook on life. It's hard to imagine being a prey animal, seeing's how we are at the top of the food chain. Horses know this better than we do:)
It's when we try to BE a prey animal along with them, that they really have to call bullshite. Stop trying to act like a horse, around your horse. Be the human, always aware of how the two of you interact. Never let down your guard. Be the predator you are. Your horse expects, and respects this from you.
It's a respect thing.

SmoooothMovers.. here's one.

Good grief, this mare had an ugly head. Gah. TB/Jughead/STB, who knows. I had fun riding her. She was so comfy to ride. Very little action, very little oooomph behind. Next to no scope. Odd mare. She'd clamp her tail and spook when she shat. Mostly on the longe, never under tack. Her confo clearly shows her limitations.
Why on earth do people "rescue" animals so completely malconformed, and then express surprise at the poor beast's unsuitability for his task??

I'd have had a tough time doing anything but pleasure riding and jumping, with this mare. If I'd tried to make her a Grand Prix jumper, I would have been in for a disappointment.

This would be like buying a school horse with no neck, no top-line & no hind-end connection, and then asking it to work in lessons, jump etc.. I wonder why the horse is sore?? Why do people believe that form isn't important??
I guess I was just lucky. The school barns I worked at had basically sound horses. Basically. How on earth can people learn on horses that aren't even BUILT like horses???

Sorry, part of the gasping I've been doing. Unreal, what passes for professional, these days.

Lack thereof..
I must confess my lack of relevance lately has to do with business related concerns and family related concerns, and all that sorta kinda thing.

I'm still trying to put something back in my life, that's been lacking. Y'all know what ThaT is. This direction I'm taking might help.

To Trial and Error. You gotta learn it somewhere. Don't keep worrying about the error. It's the trial that counts;)

p.s. If you're wondering about the Rankling/Rowing reference, be patient.
It's a reminder for my next blather.

Surprise, Surprise

As I walked the girls out back yesterday, I wondered why people get so surprised when their (insert animal here) is surprised/frightened/overwhelmed by (insert unremarkable thing here).

Animals do not have an encyclopedia of immediate and past and future knowledge, as we do.
They don't read a map the night before they travel to a new city.

They live from here to there. Not very far. Most animals have what I think of as "narrow" intelligence. They can retain an incredible amount of tiny detail, but generalize badly. You know those intelligence tests where you have to find differences between two sets of seemingly identical drawings?
Animals actually excel at that, within their own narrow "field" of experience, in my generalized opinion.

Humans can much more easily learn to generalize, it's how we've learned to gestalt stuff. Focus on stuff.

Everyday, our animals reconnoiter their routines we unwittingly allow them to memorize. They don't "know" that they are about to (insert new situation here). That new situation could be something as innocuous (to you) as using a new kitchen appliance. Not that I have ever experienced a new kitchen appliance, but that's another story.

It's like a dog that barks at the new toaster, or a quiet horse that spooks on the trail he's traveled three gabillion times, upon seeing a small piece of string on the ground.

An arena door the horse "knows" will open and close, still spooks him, if he's not warned of it's imminent opening. Thinking as a horse, I can't blame them for spooking. It would look like a bear-trap, opening without warning.
Prey animals don't like to see sudden openings/changes in shapes, without warning.

When opening or closing arena doors, one says/power voices "Door" before opening the arena door. Both ways. Yup, in, and out. I can't remember exactly when I learned that, but I think it was 40 years ago. I spooked a horse very badly, by suddenly opening an arena door. It makes more sense, if you think like a horse.

(Thanks, Padraigin.)

OMG, speaking of thinking like an animal, Dr. Temple Grandin's in Ontario, doing lectures! Way cool, huh? Wish I could go...

I'm in the process of re-vamping my life. I think many of us are. We're all figuring out the next best direction to take.
Animals will, quite willingly, follow our direction.
As long as we understand how their innate directions work, first.

Dancing Routines.
My dogs and I walk my back fields every day. We begin with a rollicking race towards any rodent hanging around the house. That lasts four seconds. After a few Frisbee warm-up throws, we head out for our 45 minute daily walk. That's the minimum amount of exercise my girls will allow me. Most of the time it's longer. Much longer:)

Twice on Saturday, AND Sunday. More, of course, if it isn't winter. (eeeeeeeeeeek)
We have our own memorized routines now. After warm-ups, we head out. Sometimes, after the request to drop and leave Frisbees, the Blaze puppy will cajole Flip into immediate race play. Most times, Flip declines.
Flip slinks ahead, on full predator murder/death/kill alert.

Blaze and I dance, until she realizes I really do want to count some trees. She BoingS beside me, ala Pluto in his goofiest moments, straight up, front knees up, hind legs touching underneath, ears flying. Pronkin', really. Very silly/hysterical to watch.

Until she finally bounds away after her sister, Blaze and I practice her favourite routines. Blaze starts out straight ahead of me, walking backwards, smiling for all she's worth.
While I'm walking. Point my left arm, turn slightly left.
Blaze: RUN against the clock!
Raise left arm, quickly lower.
Blaze: STOP. Blaze: DROP.
Spin right arm clockwise.
Blaze: spin/ROLL OVER clock-wise
(Lately, she's been trying it from a greater height,I wish I had a trampoline for her). Blaze usually starts to giggle around now.
Point right, turn slightly right.
Blaze: RUN with the clock!!

Rinse and repeat. Interspersed with slapping my left hip, and smiling at her as she glues herself to my side as we walk. Stop, sit, come, wait, paw? Then we do the run with/against the clock directions again. What a laugh riot, for a herder!

We're adding to the routine daily, I'll keep ya posted. Working on music for it..
I hear rock'nroll bag-pipes when we play, or a down-east Rankin family tune.
She is so much like my old red dog, she wants something new to learn everyday.
Don't we all?
(I'm hoping so. Trouble is, new now means new electronic. That's not the kind of new I mean.)

Flip meanwhile, ignoring all dance requests, (except follow my general direction, and stay close) may or may not have rolled in something. Touch wood, she's been good, but there's a minor rodent (moles/mice babies) die-off going on out in the fields and my lawn (why??) so, here's hoping it's a peaceful night. I don't THINK she ate one.
Only Flip knows for sure.

Blaze is still weirded out by stuff she's never seen before, or that seems slightly different, or happens at a different time of day.. She's three! How much experience do I expect of her?? Not that much. I always expect the unexpected...

Toe-Tapper out...

Guilt Appreciation Day

In Honour of Flip's Seventh Birthday!
Yesterday. MORE guilt:(
I've decided, today, that my guilt is to be embraced, embraved, displayed. I am guilty of so many things. I don't walk my dogs enough. I don't always enrich their lives enough, and I knew that before I read Temple's wonderful book. Temple just helped me feel some more guilt.

Enriching lives, I don't do that enough. My poor, pooor dogs. Guilt.


Why did I get a puppy, just how could I torture poor Flip this way?
Flip is the master of the aggrieved, mournful, tragic expression. When my husband gives Blaze affection, Flip practically sobs.

Further Guilt Trips.
I'm so sorry. I should have insisted that my parents become activists against the big corporations, and embrace the "live off the land" ethic. I tried to warn them of my misgivings about their carbon-sucking lifestyle, from my earliest sentient days, but they just wouldn't listen. Plus, my darned older, smaller sister was talking my ears off. I feel responsible (and guilty) for the strange apathy that overcame me.

I did my best, but it just wasn't enough. As soon as we moved to Ontario, I stopped talking, found a barn, and starting walking.
Later, as the barns moved further north of Steeles, which was the city/country boundary once, in centuries ago days, I was too busy hitch-hiking to the barn to stop the societal madness I could clearly see brewing.
Horses are truly my very first guilt.

And in this day and age, indeed, they are a fairly guilty pleasure. Even though I'm not "in horses" at all anymore, I can still feel guilty about horses. Amazing. Heck, I made skipping classes an art form so I could ride. My absences were higher than my grades. Look where ThaT got me. Guilt.

Talk about muscle memory. Too bad my brain isn't a muscle. Maybe I could somehow make it fitter again, and feel less guilty.

I think I missed the memo about horses becoming pets. I was far enough away from the horse universe by then. It does occur to me, now, that my horse-owning friends have mainly "pets". When a horse is worth less than a purebred dog, something has gone completely wrong in the universe. This is just the way I was raised, don't shoot me.

I am not guilty of owning horses. I know I can't afford one, and I will not risk my heart, nor the well-being of the animal, to own one. So I do not.

But horses will be so sad. My nephew told me that, just a little kid, when I finally had to tell him I was getting out. Guilt.


Employment Guilt.
I am guilty of attempting to run my business honestly for the past 24 years. My biggest single problem in my life has always been my honesty when dealing with people. I feel guilty, for being honest. I have one heck of a time keeping my patience. Guilt.

Final Guilt Trip of the Day...
I'm sorry I turned on the Canada/USA Olympic Hockey game. Within thirty seconds, three Canadian Players collided, one not getting up, and then the USA scored the go-ahead goal.
sigh. I Promise NOT to watch Canada against Germany! That should help.

You're welcome, Canada.

Important Day

Today, I am so important, I just can't stand myself. My chest puffs up. Or maybe it's just PMS.

I need to rant. Hang onto your hats. No, it isn't a horse-related rant. Scroll on, I might get back to horses in this post. No guarantees though..

To the Young Guy at the Gas Station yesterday, BLASTING his music in his little black car, windows wide open.

It was actually quite pleasant music, but it was frickin' LOUD. I was a smitchen grumpier than normal yesterday. Hey, it happens. I'm standing there, putting noxious fumes into my little car, and I finally just had to say it, in my power voice.
It carries really well, my power voice.
"Could you please turn that DOWN." I said, firmly. No yelling, just powered. The older guy at the next bay, gassing up his car, laughed.

Lo and behold, the music stopped. The young guy starts his car, and slowly (oh, so SCARY) (not) drives over to where he can see me. He says, politely, "What is the problem, please?" I say, "Oh, no problem, thank you so much for turning down the music, it was giving me a head ache." He says, "Why, you do not like BLACK music?"

(WTF???) It wasn't "black" music. It wasn't any COLOUR of music! It was too LOUD!
I say, "It doesn't matter what kind of music it was, music is a wonderful thing, I liked that music. It was too LOUD."

Young idiot says "Oh, you just are against black music."
More vehemently, but not with the power, I say "NO, it was too loud. It isn't about what KIND of music it is. The music is fine. Just don't make EVERYONE listen to it. Maybe they don't want to hear your music. This is a public place, not a concert hall. Have a nice day!"
(I power voiced the last bolded bit, and off he drove, still with his music turned down.)
I am such an oppressor of freedom to annoy people.
(smacks hand)

Yesterday was my Fifth anniversary of owning Flip the wonder dog!
We've really fallen deeply in love with each other. I laugh to think of the wide-eyed scared little farm dog that hurled herself against my feet, the first day I met her. Her previous owner/breeder had brought her along for us to meet, one week after little red dog passed. One week after that, Flip hurtled into my life.

Our First Day.


I've mentioned I may have gotten her too soon, after losing old red dog. Who cares, now? Not me, not Flip. We is buddies, she gets me, I laugh with her. Last night she pretended to be a kitty, rubbing herself against me, doing low little growley goopy chuckles, giggling to herself. I never know what she'll think of next. Flip likes to count her toys, and put them all in one spot. Not IN the toy box of course, but hey, they are all in one spot, on the other side of the room, or in the middle of the floor.
A new stuffy is Flip's best toy, ever. Old ones get boring, until she forgets them, and they are re-introduced..

Flip is registered as "(breeders name) Up and Rising". Silly name. I think a better name would have been SlinkinStinkin.

Flip is a huge fan of stinky filth, as most dogs are. But she raises the bar on surreptitious behaviour to a truly fine art.
Flip ALWAYS manages to fool me. And the look on her face, when she comes back coated in slime d'raccoon, makes me laugh enough that I don't want to kill her.

Flip thinks water is an un-necessary evil. Poor thing, I'm spraying her with acid, it's BURNING, oh, she's melting!!
Flip cannot swim. Nope, not a lick. Blaze makes fun of her.

Hey, I just noticed!
Flip's insides of her ears were lighter when I got her. Now they are totally black..
Interesting. I wonder if Blaze's will darken, too? That's ONE of the ways to tell them apart. The others are top secret, because, I am.
Important.

Nope, not one word about horses. I've been reading stuff that's making me gasp, not quite sure how to explain it, succinctly, or not so succinctly.

That's me, the anti-succinct!

Turn that sucker DOWN!
Just practicing.

Blaze and Lucy

Take THAT, and THAT!!


Blaze - Vroom, Vrooom.


Lucy - VarOOOM, Varoom!


FastestEST


I iz THIS bigger..

My friend, (yes, another one I haven't mentioned) has a 5 month old mini-daschund, OH, so cute!
Poor Blaze has been looking for a puppy buddy since I got her. Flip's kinda old, Millie's really old. And now Blaze is three, and she's really not qualified as a puppy anymore.
Her face watching little Lucy zing around was priceless!
Sorry the pics are so fuzzy. That little Lucy can sure move!

I think Blaze was mesmerized by those hound ears, flying around. Blaze thought SHE had the biggest ears. I think it's a tie, between the two of them, for now.

Lucy stopped moving, for a second:)

Ride 'em Squirrel!

This is a view from the old "Suicide Trails", during my riding school teeetcher days in Oakville. Always gave my students a huge amount of pride, after completing a hack along this beautiful precipice.

Oh, I forgot to tell y'all about Flip's "Ride'em Squirrel!" adventure.. I've mentioned how clueless they both are as predators, Blaze much more so than big Sister Flip. Flip has killed, and will kill again. She's anti-mole/snake. I'm pretty sure she pithed a few unfortunate frogs in the pond. Hard to tell with frogs:) They can play dead pretty well.
Flip is directionally challenged when it comes to chasing anything larger.

I mean, even I can see the squirrel. I think she smells squirrel first, and goes haring off the last place he WaS, instead of where he actually IS. Why that's always the exact opposite direction is still a mystery to me, when we're on wide open ground.

Old red dog actually CaughT a squirrel, once, and very promptly let it go, in utter surprise.

Whoah! Young promising folk-singing woman hiking in Cape Breton, NS, killed by coyotes! (Turning off news) I betcha it was coy-dogs. SPAY & NEUTER, people..

Sorry, where was I? Oh, Flip going the wronger way. Strangely, she always goes the right way, when the squirrel is beside a tree. Flip cannoT figure out why she misses squirrels, every single time. Chipmunks are also inexplicable.

We have a particularly lazy black squirrel, he must be old enough to know he's in no danger from those silly black dogs. The three of us had come outside for work and play. I'd noticed lazy black squirrel (lbs) half-heartedly heading towards our back driveway, beside my wild/flower/veggie garden. We have a large truck box, about 12'x 20', parked out there for storage of stuff. Open at the back, and a haven underneath, for generations of lbs's.

Flip, naturally, went the wrong way, and the lbs starting moving a little faster towards the box. Blaze suddenly noticed what was right in front of her nose, and managed to herd the lbs into the box, when Flip finally showed up. Lbs did NOT want to be inside the box. He wanted to be underneath the box, but he had two very bright-eyed dogs lookin' at him, grinning from ear to ravenous killer ear. A general kerfuffle ensued. Lbs did an impression of an india rubber ball inside the box, and somehow, lbs bounced out and ended up on Flip's back.

For a good ten seconds, the look on Flip's face, omg. Her eyes just about popped, as she frantically looked behind her, lbs cleverly dodging her every feint. Lbs was actually pretty safe up there, and he knew it. Once Blaze saw him, lbs leaped off and escaped, of course. He was right there, in front of both of them.
Predator fail, again, my little chaos of dogs.
I laughed myself breathless.

I haz pictures of beautiful babies. Sighhhh. I wish I OWNED these beautiful babies. However, virtual horse "ownership" has many perks. Much, much cheaper.
Actually, that's a total lie. (Not the much cheaper part.)I do not want horse babies. I don't know nuthin' 'bout babies. Give me a three or four year old. Babies are for the breeders.

Actually, no, I'm lying again. I do not want a three-four year old. I want a mature horse. Like me;)
If wishes were horses, I'd have a herd by now.

Have a great weekend, dearest readers!

PompositiesPrevalence/Possibilities

More old pictures.
Well, actually the newest of my old horse pictures, me and the jug-headed grey horse I part-boarded, before my health went to crappola.

Here we are, out in the top field, where all the XC jumps were. Had to climb a mountain to get there. Old Grey (he's about 7 here) had been steadily "fed up" surreptitiously by me, he was half-dead-starved when I started. Real quiet. Amazing what an extra flake of hay or two will do. I'd been riding him (as much as I could) since the previous fall. Lovely spring day.
Boy, he's feeling goooood here.

I'm "behind" him, using my body angle & weight and my (bad, rounded) shoulders to bring him back, there's a lot of weight in my hands right now, but since his mouth was pretty numb, he's not reacting much. Yup, my leg is also too far forward, but I am in defense mode, where it's allowed. I'm aware of where we are, and what I don't want him to do. Please don't kill me, Grey Horse. I have to work tomorrow.
Don't bully me, I won't bully you.
Where I'd surprise him, him having been trained to lean constantly on your hands, is I'd consistently "drop" the contact, when he was in the balance I wanted, if only for a fraction of a second.

The result?

He'd lighten. Look how happy we are! Yes, I know his hind end is still all strung out behind him. Yes, I know he was long-backed, short-necked and um, larger headed. Old grey smelled great. Horse enough for me:) Together, we worked on finding a balance that was comfortable for us both.

A Canadian Point of Pride
Just to celebrate how well he's doing..EricLamaze&Hickstead. Proud Canadian? Darned right!
Remember, I live sort of near Toronto, home of ALL the losing "major" sports teams on the planet. You get to be my age, you'll appreciate any little nationalistic lift. Even if Eric IS from KayBeck. (Québec.) That's in CANADA. You know, big, colder country?
So dang polite, we literally apologize when people remark on how we're so dang polite. No sense arguing, when it's this cold out.

DressaHhhhge.
I was musing on the whole roll-kur thing. How something that is not even really that useful for a second, suddenly becomes the position to be assumed, for hours. I do Not, and will never, understand it. When did it happen? I guess it's my fault, having left the poor horses to their own devices...
It is the same old story. Why should the people who are winning, listen to the people who are not? The winning edge is achieved with more money than most of us will ever dream of possessing.
This is why I still hold out for, and watch, the ShowJumpers. Yes, there are terrible ways to train horses to jump higher better quicker. But the objective completion is what counts, i.e. whether they clear the jump or not. NO Subjectivity is allowed. Like Math. You're either right, or you're wrong.

Dressahhhhhge has become a haven for the circus. A semi-trained explosion, as opposed to a symphony.
Great Dressage hasn't disappeared. 2006 World Cup

I have watched this in better quality, NicoleUphoff, learning just recently she was supposedly the "first" to be seen using the dreaded too deep position. Have I got that history correct? Who knows. All I know is, it's gotten less "broke" in dressahhhge. I mean, if the halt is now considered irrelevant, why include it in a test of ultimate obedience or training? Does that make sense? Why should a horse exhibit the very worst form of disobedience, and still win a medal?
How does that further the cause of correct riding from the beginning?

The examples of questionable ideals are pretty rampant at the upper levels, it seems, and this has trickled down to the great unwashed, confused public, wishing someone would just make up their darn minds and answer the dang question. What is correct riding? Any discipline!
Ask an excellent young-horse trainer. The single most under-appreciated niche on the planet! If they go extinct, horses are in even huger trouble.

Hey, it's Puppy Blaze's Burp-Day, today!! Three years old.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!
The day after we got her. She slept most of the first day, poor little bayyyBEEE!.


Can't help myself. She's sooo adorable. The giant horse-sized longe-line was firmly attached until she got older.
Why? You may ask;)
The very first day Blaze arrived, she disappeared for 20 minutes. I took my eyes away from her for one, maybe two seconds. Scared the ever-lovin' heck out of me. Flip was no help, at all, she was too busy flirting with Blaze's daddy, brought along for introductions.
I guess Blaze thought, "WTF? I'm so outta here." She was 10 weeks when we got her. Heavy puppy. Her paws smelled like popcorn...


Ears A'Rising! Excuse the background, my lovely, filthy, house.


A few more, why not? It's her Birthday!


When they could still both (barely) fit, into one dog bed:)


Have a great week!