GoLightlyPics4fern

Here's two pics of pics of GoLightly, just for Fern.
The second is Peter and GoLightly in a Preliminary Jumper Class, 1984. I THINK he came second? I was the groom, and discovered Lightly liked green grapes, a LOT.. How cute is that nose?? Lightly's nose, of course. Peter was/is cute. GoLightly was very rubber-nosed, and stretched it forward when he jumped big. So cute:)

The first is the advert I found in COTH, in 1990. I still didn't have $25k to spend. Well, I sort of did, Mom had just died, two years before, a small inheritance, not desired. I wasn't ready to spend that kind of money. I had student & car loans to pay, first. Lainie Wimberley, the advertiser, was featured in Practical Horseman just a couple of years ago. I tried e-mailing PH, to see if they could ask her where he'd ended up.
No reply. Ignored, aGain.

Oh, for Andalusians.
The text of the ad reads as follows.
"Brigadoon offers for sale
GoLightly, Bay Gelding, 16.3 12 years old. This horse can do it all. "Go-Go" succeeds in the equitation, as well as adult or amateur jumpers. A real "packer", as forgiving as he is simple. If there's a job to be done, who you gonna call? "Go-Go"!"

I'm sure he was annoyed by THAT name. GoGo. Pah. Darned tacky..

I must do real work today. I'll re-post, when my home work is done, BlueHeron.
Check it OUT! Andalusians of Grandeur has a blog!
way cool.
Here's her link, cause (shines nails) I can do links, in my BLOG.
Just not anywhere else.
To Kind People..

ForMyLeoBear,w/pic

Horses carry baggage, emotionally and physically.

Over the years, I rode lots of different types of horses, but my favourite breed "type" narrowed, as I focused more and more on Hunter/Jumper/Dressage. The school horses I was fortunate enough to know rounded out the breed types I stayed close to. The School Barn I taught at, before my move to GoLightly's eventual barn, had probably 35+ schoolies, in various states of repair/soundness/issues/temperament/talent.

Some were downright scary, some were downright dangerous, depending on if they liked the current rider or not. Some of the ponies.. Gah, rotten little creatures, some of them. But some were as safe as a house. You just can't generalize too far in any direction, about any breed. There's always an exception to every rule.

Even great trainers can be guilty of that. I had a few lessons with David Ballard, for example, at this large Schooling/Boarding Barn. I was riding one of the "very-advanced-rider" schoolies, a tall bright bay TB mare. Witchy, (yes, ironic), was supposedly a very tough ride. I got along with her just fine, and enjoyed riding her. At my first lesson with Mr. Ballard, he took me aside and stage whispered "This mare will BURY you!" She never did. An exception to his rule.

Horses have their own rules. Witchy was a cribber, and had a curious pot-bellied appearance, but a lovely "type" all the same. Very sound, very opinionated about how she was to stay sound. If you didn't bother her, she was a lovely ride, with her pretty, straight blazed face and four socks, a merry-go-round horse.. My old Boss bred her late, at about 14, and Witchy surprised everyone by successfully pretending not to take. Her foal became a cribber, too, of course.

My Six Schoolies, at GoLightly's barn, were the best bunch of geldings ever. They were limited by their ages and soundness levels, but they all had very sweet hearts. I hope I gave them a great life, in the short years I had them, something they could always remember. I had the cleanest, chunkiest, shiniest Schoolies anywhere. I gave them a good time, I hope. They always whinnied happily when I arrived, with treats and grooming and love.

Leo Bear was the most complex, personality wise. The deepest thinker, and a weaver.

My Leo Bear comes to mind when I read about today's training of horses, and the difference between hard-broke and soft-broke. Quick or slow. Roaring or whispering.

Leo was a typey Quarter Horse up top, a 15.1 hand liver chestnut chunk. A bit steep through his croup, but well-balanced. A third of neck, and of back and of butt. His head was level, in it's "natural" carriage. A tad long in his head. I italicize natural, as he was 12 or 14 by then.

Leo Bear's "natural" head carriage might have been a bit different, if he'd been whispered to, but that is justa guess. He seemed to shrink into his "natural" way of going, as if it hurt him a bit.

Leo Bear moved like a duck. He was calf-kneed and toed out in front. Cow-hocked behind. Part cow, maybe:) I had no idea of his history, except he'd been used in several schools. Leo was well-broke, but kinda broken, in a way.

He'd had a long, annoying life as a schoolie before I had the honour of teaching with him. Leo could curl his nose in such an articulate expression of disdain. He was very quiet, but very clever. If the rider had any issues, he'd turn into the centre of the ring and stop. Didn't matter what speed he was going.

I'd explain the rider's errors, and off he'd go again, still a little put-out, but mollified by my scritches of understanding. Leo couldn't believe how spoiled he was, with me.

Leo Bear was a good little jumper, and won lots of ribbons with the right rider, at the little shows in the area.

Leo was the best of the best for explaining to the rider if they could ride or not. Leo would show the rider (and me) what they were missing. He was my test horse for all new riders. Leo knew exactly what they didn't know.

Leo was great to demonstrate things on. He could do changes, and knew all of the basic flat work movements very well. I rarely demo'ed on anyone else. Leo would be hilarious for me, while I rode. He'd puff up his chest, lighten in front, twinkle on his toes a bit, for me. He'd offer changes just to show off. I always thanked him for his appreciation. Leo really liked me. Leo Bear was a trier. But he had a faraway, yet close tension that the other horses didn't have.

Leo Bear hated dogs. Any dogs close to the schooling sand ring were firmly driven away, with a ferocious expression and bared teeth, rider aboard, or no.

And Leo also did four unusual things, while I taught with him, and learned from him. The first incident was leading the Schoolies back in from the field. I always brought the six back at one time. It was a long walk to their turnout, and they all had gotten to know me well, quickly. It was a bit of a windy day. I had three, Leo the horse closest to me, on the left and three on the other.

Leo ran me over, from being right beside me, to running over me, faster than I dropped down and yelled, HEY?! Leo didn't hurt me, but he sure shoved me down/aside and took off like a lunatic. I re-gathered and re-grouped, and looked behind me, trying to figure out why he'd done it. The gate had blown open, well behind us. That's all. But that situation made him run like hell was right behind him. First weirdness.

Second weirdness. I was teaching an older, shortish gentleman, a very successful, nice enough business guy. Guy was very type A, intense, driven, show me how it's done, and my goodness it's DONE. Not a great rider emotion. Too much of a hurry, he was in. Looked and sounded a bit like a (cowers) cowboy, although Guy was a total suit, much more so than cowboy. Justa wannabe.

Guy was grooming Leo on the cross-ties in the school barn aisle.. I was chatting with the guy, and watched as one tiny "tick" sound of the man's hat touching the cross-ties as Guy ducked under them, sent Leo into a striking, rearing, snorting wild-eyed panic. I quickly calmed him, but wondered what Leo had suddenly remembered. Leo Bear went well for this guy, but never lost his expression of fear when the guy rode him. Leo's tension was palpable, worn as a tight circle within his body. Guy & wife got their own horse not long after that, but that's another story. Well, that story does tie in with why I left teaching..

Third weirdness. A very nice older rider, not an amateur, not a pro, but a wonderful kind breeder/starter of good young horses, came to me to get her confidence back. The trainer she'd been using had destroyed it. His initials were RT. Yup, that's him.

Ironic. I just thought she was sensitive, and we worked on helping her realize how capable she was.
She loved just getting on my old guys, and working on stuff she already knew, but had forgotten, in her character bashing sessions with RT. RT is an AH. Now, I know! Takes me awhile. I know.

Anyway, the lesson she first had with Leo really made me wonder where and what had happened to his soul. She was a perfectly fine rider, quiet, soft, a little short and blonde and absolutely beautiful. She is a kind, wonderful person, too.
A tiny bit stiff in her position. Nothing to write home about, it's the way she's built, just a bit rigid.

Leo Bear poured buckets of sweat, from the moment she mounted him. We did nothing to warrant his sweats. He was just TENSE. Leo's expression was of ferocity and concentration, not fear. Yet he sweated so profusely, it took a tremendous time for him to get cooled and dried. He'd only been worked for a regular flat lesson, but he sweated as if he'd been jumping the Grand National. We both wondered aloud at his reaction. Gail. I type this for my memory. Part of Stan Roger's incredible clan. Some Canadians will know that name, as more should. I was lucky enough to meet Garnet. Wonderful people.

The fourth isn't really as weird as the top three. Leo Bear was a saint on hacks. Leo loved hacking. I took my "best" group of kids out one day, with Leo carrying the "worst" of my best. The girl was the type that would never get it, but would try her heart out in the meantime. Sweet, nice girl. Justa bit un-coordinated, and dreamy, in that she'd never really listen to what you were saying. Just give you a look of surprise when she was dumped, aGain. She always got back on. She was built a bit like Leo:), and her build really did work against her. Her lower leg kinda went outwards from her knees..

Anyway, she always got Leo for hacks, as he was the saint. Leo dumped her on her head, coming over the brow of a tiny hill. I missed it, it happened so quick. Leo was right behind me! He was trying to tell me something. I knew it already. The girl would never be a rider, no matter how much she wanted it. Sometimes, it just isn't there.

I suspect that Leo Bear had some old, never to-be-forgotten painful situations that would always panic him. Horses have narrow memories, and they are excellent at remembering. They never forget a painful thing. We have no windows into their minds. We can only read their reactions, and ensure that they never feel trapped, or in pain, again. Often,there is no obvious cause. Only the horse knows what he's anticipating.

It is next to impossible to predict every moment with your horse. He carries with him, all he knows, in his narrow, brilliant mind. You can only move forward with your own predictions. Horses never look down, except to eat, or buck:)

The Quarter Horses I remember always knew how to explain themselves. I just wish more people would listen. And learn. Screaming can happen, without even raising your voice. Horses hear our hearts, not our heads.

Edited to add a grainy picture of a picture of Leo Bear at a schooling show, once a week (if she was lucky) advanced student Marni up. Look at those sweet knees, and the bascule in his old back. Not bad for a old Schoolie.

To Leo Bear. Rest in Peace, sweet, scared old lad, wherever you are. You deserved a kind end, too.

I haz more pictures of pictures... Maybe I'll post 'em, if y'all behave, nice like:)

No scowling, here.
Work's almost dun.
(done)

One Way? No Way! this way..

How not to take pictures. Give me the camera. Yeah, I took these. Bad, berry, berry bad, but interestingly bad. I had my free camera at the time, it had been swimming. This is a arab/clyde cross. What do you think? His croup slants so steeply, and is so short. Pretty posty behind too, he did indeed have stifle issues as he grew. He's 16.2, and two years old in these pictures. The rest is quite spectacular. Opinions? That one was mine, hof course. A friend's horse. Wonderful temperament.. 519 AreaCode. Bummer.

I was chortling to myself about the rigidity or fluidity of opinions we all have. What IS it about horse people? I have to start asking these questions in the right place, which, whoops, is HerE. Not TherE. Honestly. I'm amazed by this attitude of only this way, and then only that way. The BesT way.

I remember when a great German Instructor Guy, Ed Rothcranz gave me the first of several lessons through the years. I was riding a very kind woman's horses, a beautiful black and an even georgeouser darkly roaning gray, both TB's. 16.2, dainty, but tough, somehow. Nice harses, I am so disgusted with my memory for not remembering her name. What a nice woman she was, glad to let me ride her horses, and kindly driving me home from the barn.

She was a very capable rider, herself. Age I think, had surprised her. These two horses were both still very green, a little tough to keep together. I rode many people's horses at that barn, but hers were my favourite. Their names have disappeared, which also disappoints me. I never thought I'd forget a horse's name.

ANYway, I had been riding about 3 years at this point. Maybe four, and had gotten my first horse, the liver chestnut mare that kicked out at my Dad. So I thought I was pretty overly good. I rode in classical dressage heck-equitation style. (snickers) Pretty floppy, hacktually. But that's how it's done. Correctly. Fluidly, long and deep into the horses movement.

Ed Rothcranz took his first look at me, after we'd flatted and warmed the gray up, as it was a jumping school, and hiked my stirrups up SIX holes. Six. Yeah, it sure felt different. I wish I'd been smarter about what old Ed was trying to teach me. English wasn't his best language at this point. He tended to just scream incomprehensibly. GoLightly helped me figure old Ed out, too.

I came close to losing a teaching job, before I went and visited my cousin in Colorado, where her training stable was at the time. I had been riding about 12 years, at this point. I couldn't teach people how to jump. I just couldn't do it. I was so frustrated by this anomaly, I was eager to soak up what Cousin K had to say.
Two words. Two point. I learned a thousand hours from her.
My legs darn near fellOFF. Felt GreaT.

Two point. Oooohhh. Duh. I came back from one week with Cousin, my School-Barn Boss watched my next lesson, and said, "I don't know what you did for one week, but you just got your job back." I didn't even know I was in trouble. Cousin saved me, there, and her lovely horses. She had an assistant trainer who's chief purpose in life was to make me cry. It worked, a LoT. But Cousin gave me the grounding Ed R. had tried to show me, without words. You can indeed, sit a spooking/teleporting/bucking horse in two-point, if it's deep enough. Secure enough. Honest enough.

To being open to what needs done with your horse. In every situation. Each is unique.
To Unique Horses and People. To riding as many different ways as you can.
To Princes.
Karen Cranham, too. Best cousin, ever!

CHDC/CFIA Correspondence

CFIA Rhetoric Exposed
A new form letter from the CFIA is being circulated in response to questions about the ethics of slaughtering horses. Please read what we've written in italics and use this information to help Mr. Mayers and Ms. Swan focus on the issue at hand.

From: Paul.Mayers@inspection.gc.ca [mailto:Paul.Mayers@inspection.gc.ca]
Sent: Friday, February 06, 2009 8:36 AM
To:
Subject: Slaughter of Horses

I am writing in response to your letter to Ms. Carole Swan, President of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency (CFIA), regarding the slaughter of horses for meat in Canada . Ms. Swan has asked me to reply on her behalf. I understand that you have written similar correspondence to the Minister of Agriculture and Agri-Food.

The CFIA understands your position and appreciates that some Canadians have difficulty with the slaughter of horses and the consumption of horsemeat. The CFIA also believes that animals should be protected from unnecessary suffering. Please be assured that most Canadian horse owners are strongly committed to treating their animals with care.

The concern that the CFIA needs to focus upon is the lack of humane treatment that was documented at Natural Valley Farms. This is the area of their responsibility--not the issue of horse slaughter in general. They are redirecting the argument. They have also commissioned a report by the Canadian Veterinary Medical Association (a pro-horse slaughter organization) with the following question being asked: "Can horses be slaughtered humanely?". This isn't the issue; we are asking them to act upon footage, photos and evidence of violations and cruelty in one facility--Natural Valley Farms. It is clear that the CFIA is dodging and reframing the questions. This is a diversionary tactic and it is unacceptable.


The role of the CFIA is to verify that the horses are transported, handled and slaughtered in a humane manner. The Health of Animals Regulations prohibit the transportation of any animal under inhumane conditions and state that carriers cannot load, transport or unload animals in a way that would cause injury or undue suffering. Where instances of non-compliance are reported or identified, the CFIA investigates and takes appropriate action. Since 2005, the CFIA has performed over 65 000 humane transportation inspections involving horses and other species at various locations, including auction markets, slaughter facilities and border crossings. The compliance rate has been found to be in the range of 98.7 to 98.9 per cent. The CFIA employs a range of options to enhance compliance. These include education, the issuance of warnings, and prosecution through the imposition of administrative monetary penalties.

Compare this to information from the field offered by Twyla Francois: "When I've talked to them [CFIA inspectors/vets] at the slaughterhouses, it's become clear that they've not left their labs to do the ante-mortem inspections on the animals as they are supposed to be doing. At the horse slaughterhouse in Massueville, Quebec (Richelieu) we had just been given a tour by management and saw horrible violations, e.g. a horse left in the bloody kill pen while workers went on lunch. The horse was shaking so badly she was nearly falling down. Horses were left standing in the kill line. Electric prods were being used on the horses in the kill line. There was no food or water for the horses in the holding area. There were 2 dead bodies of horses in the rear. When we went to talk to the vet and bring her down to show her our concerns, she was heckled by the shirtless, bloody workers all the way there. When we got there she was shocked at what she saw. It was clear she'd rarely to never been there and we couldn't blame her. It's a volatile environment where the CFIA vets/inspectors are bullied.

"CHDC's Black Beauty Betrayed showed rampant violations--what has the CFIA done to investigate those? Even their own Humane Slaughter expert Dr. Anne Allen told me there was an ongoing investigation by the CFIA to determine why so many horses were arriving dead. The answers were clear: overloading, loading on double deckers, transporting with metal shoes on, transporting pregnant mares too close to term, etc., yet the problem continued to get worse with higher and higher numbers of dead on arrival coming in."

Regulations and operational policies under the Meat Inspection Act also set standards for the humane handling and slaughter of animals in federally registered abattoirs. A CFIA inspector is present in each federally registered abattoir to conduct routine audits and verify that procedures are appropriate.

Again Mr. Mayers is dodging the question. The CFIA vet WAS NOT in her station at the kill box. This is clear in the footage. Instead she was in the butchering line yelling orders to "speed it up!", "what's the hold up?" etc. to the captive bolt pistol operator. Each time she yelled, the captive bolt pistol operator became nervous and inaccurately hit the horse he was working on. When one horse was improperly hit and went down only to have her head stuck in the cattle head stanchion (this should never happen if done in a proper kill box) the CFIA vet yelled out, "Poke him with the stick! Poke him through!" This horse was regaining consciousness and because of her order was kicked in the face repeatedly.

Others also have responsibilities to ensure the humane treatment of animals destined for slaughter. For instance, industry must comply with all regulations concerning transportation, handling and slaughter.

But by their own accounts this isn't happening. Dr. Anne Allen was quoted on the CBC's National expose as saying (of the illegal mislabeling of slaughter-bound horses as feeders): "If they have a sudden epiphany and take the horses to slaughter, what can we do?". In other words, they know this is happening yet allow it to continue!

The provincial governments oversee sanitation and disposal pits and any "custom slaughter" where the meat is intended for intraprovincial trade. In most provinces, the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SPCA) enforces the provincial laws that govern the humane treatment of animals. SPCA officers or police officers also investigate complaints under the federal Criminal Code, which prohibits willful cruelty to animals.

The Saskatchewan SPCA took eight months to respond to our concerns, only after repeated requests for a reply. When they finally did respond, their statement only pointed to concerns regarding the slippery flooring and the size of the kill box, and that some horses were kept in the kill box for an excessive length of time. There was nothing to indicate any concern for cruelty to horses or improper stunning practices. It's simply unacceptable that even with such powerful evidence provided (see Black Beauty Betrayed, http://defendhorsescanada.org/pdf/bbb2008.pdf ) the SSPCA, whose mission is to prevent animal cruelty, has failed to act to protect these horses.

In regard to U.S. horses sent for slaughter to Canada , the CFIA and the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) have a shared responsibility for enforcing our respective regulations that govern the humane transportation of slaughter horses. As an example, at Canadian border points, the CFIA verifies that the accompanying U.S. health certificate has been endorsed by a USDA veterinarian for each horse listed and that it provides all information required by Canadian regulations. This includes a statement verifying that a veterinarian inspected the animal within 30 days prior to export and found it to be clinically healthy and fit to travel without undue suffering.

From Twyla Francois: "I have footage of horses crossing without anyone but me inspecting them. They are coming in at night when the CFIA and USDA inspectors have gone home. They are being waved through. The customs broker I spoke to said all that's required is a form on each horse. No CFIA inspector is signing off on the forms, the broker checks the paperwork, that is all."

Additional information on the CFIA's duties with respect to animal welfare is available on the CFIA's website at http://www.inspection.gc.ca/english/anima/heasan/transport/infrastructuree.shtml.

Thank you for writing on this important matter.

It is an important matter of concern to many Canadians. The system needs to do what citizens expect--it needs to protect animals. This includes investigating and appropriately handling violations such as what occurred at Natural Valley Farms.

Paul Mayers
Associate Vice-President, Programs
Vice-président associé, programmes
Canadian Food Inspection Agency
Agence Canadienne d'inspection des aliments
1400 Merivale Road
Tower 1, 4th Floor, Room 104
Ottawa , Ontario
K1A 0Y9
(613) 773-5747
Paul.Mayers@inspection.gc.ca
____________________________________________

Canadian Horse Defence Coalition
P.O. Box 26097
Westbank, B.C.
V4T 2G3
Phone/fax: 250-768-4803
www.defendhorsescanada.org
info@defendhorsescanada.org

GoLightly in now. This is just for your own information. I do not promote the CHDC, I am merely reporting their information. Believe what you must. Don't want to waste space in the comments on other sites. We have to keep writing letters promoting kindess, for all animals. I guess that makes my comments elsewhere, painfully stupid AND ridiculous. Pah, talk to the hoof.

To Horses and Kindness. To My Kind Readers, too.

the place of detachment

Words, who kneW if you typed them, you might learn to talk them better? Grammar police, pah! I have improved my speech, somehow. Duh. I don't think I can blame it on mentally pausing. We all do that, all of our lives, anyway. Stop, and ThinK.

I'll inspire myself by way of AofG, aGain. You better start blogging/writing, MissSophiadillo, as you find the time. No rUSh! Keep playing the pipes, 4sure. The world needs more bag-pipes.
Kestrel, too, the dialogue between the two as we talked about how it feels to ride was fascinating. Sorry, not just how it feels to RidE.

Every single moment of his/her day is either his own, or shared with you, if he'll let you. If your two energies aren't clicking, nothing's gonna happen. If you aren't aware of him, every minute you can smell him, touch him, Lucky people can SEE him, right, AofG, for goodness sakes, you aren't safe.

My useless Barn Manager at Tad's first barn told me a tale one day. He'd been working around a new gorgeous OTTB, and was of course gabbling away at someone. He was bent down, and reached under the horse's belly to do something, and the horse kicked him in the head, while trying to kick at a fly. I didn't say anything, but you know what I thought. Why weren't you aware?

Being unaware means getting hurt. Maybe a little, maybe very badly hurt, if you're unlucky/dumb, dead if you're extremely, well, y'know. Unaware. Boy, will you EveR be unaware. NeveR ride alone, if you're unaware of your horse. Never, ever, well, I'll be quiet, now. Hah.

The Place of Detachment, that AofG & kestrel "gestated/gestalted" in the (what else) CommentS was very cool.

People often ride the horse, as if he isn't there. No, okay, that's mean. I've often seen people doing this, through the years. Shoot me.
Hah. Missed.
Heck, I've done it before. Not paying attention, unaware, detached, boom, ground, thank YOU. You are detached, for sure, once you hit ground.

I'm very polite to my horses. They are blameless, as long as you know what you're doing. They respond to kind fair treatment. That doesn't mean kissin' 'em all the time:) Well, okay, go ahead, it's your horse after all.
(905 nw tdot anyone have a horse?)

They do need fair discipline, as you establish your rules, calmly, yes, Cesar, assertively. Not ROUGH!! Never in anger, or frustration. NeveR. EVER. If you don't know his rules, you are in huge trouble. Huge. Rules include conformation, temperament, age, breeding, soundness, health, sex, etc.. They are who he is. Better figure him out.

If you're not paying attention to your horse, and he's not responding well, blame yourself. Because, for sure, it's your fault. You've detached from him, why should he listen to you?? Horses do not need to be blamed for a bad day. They have no bad days, except the ones WE give them.

On that happy note, my idea is this. FANTASY ALERT!! I have 3 million gabillion dollars. I have a 50 stall barn. I have great help. I'm gonna run the best darn riding school EveR. I'd have rolling hills, trees, water, lots of safe fencing. Acres and acres.. The students would have their pick of the various breed/types that are out there. I'd have the best trained, soundest, most VariouS breeds/types. I'd..... please continue. Add stalls if needed.

Wouldn't it be so cool?
People riding well-trained creatures! People learning horsemanship FIRST. Oh, right. They have that. It's called Europe. What is it with Canada & the US?? meeeowwww-hissssss. Okay, that WAS mean. Sorry:)

Horses don't lie.

Otherwise, back to Monday-dreaming, I have this great place,'k? I'd have everybody, dressage,hunters,western,jumpers,3dayers,
saddleseat,driving,reining,cutting,barrels,trail+riding (yes, it's hard, you're riding a darned Horse aren't you??) heckquitation etc. etc. etc.

Oh, the poor lost, last tangential point, I'm trying to make? New Riders, learning Riders, re-riders, AnY riders would benefit from riding lots of different types and styles and disciplines, if they aren't going to be able to ride a lot. There is no substitute for hours and miles in the tack, and on the ground, grooming him, learning about him. Letting him be The Horse. You Rider. PaY Attention.
Butch might kick you in the head.

Oh, pictures of Flip, from the day we got her. Straight behind and a little to the right, across the pond, you can see Rusty's freshly dug cemetery.. Only two weeks gone, at that point.

You can see how glad Flip is to have met my husband, too. FliP was exHausted. Flip knew how weak emotionally I was then. I got her too soon after the loss.. It was hard on her, poor darlin' FliP, sounds JUST like my old Rusty dog.

Happy Birthday, my wee black dog. My Flip. FlipFlip! She's a born paper-shredder-worrier, the sheep DID beat her up, before I got her, with her female owner. Must be So embarrassing, still. Flip is descended from illustrious herding lines.

Flip's first owner admits that she rushed Flip, because Flip showed so much early promise. But she shook Flip's confidence at their first herding trial, and poor Flip was placed in with very experienced, cranky sheep and an over-anxious owner. The sheep stomped the crap out of Flip. Flip lost her confidence that day, as her owner wasn't aware of her dog. She didn't look at Flip. She looked at the potential, but not the actual dog.

I bet Flip relives her humiliation, in front of her mom, and dam. And relieves the stress with paper. Flip was a kennel dog, mostly. Flip lived under the shadow of her over-bearing dam for a very long time. I was told when I got her, at a year and a half, that she'd always been the owner's husband's FavouritE dog.

Flip likes men a little better. Okay, a LOT better.

Can't say I blame her.

:)

Flip loves me madly, don't misunderstand, and she teaches me a lot, as great dogs do. Flip is the sweetest old soul I've ever met. She loves everybody. But pain lingers, even in justa dog's brain. Animals always remember a painful situation. It's called survival.

Flip is 6years old... I sang Happy Birthday to her,and she got all mushy and snuggley. Well, more than usual, even for her. Flip is a love-bucket, pour it on. Sweet heart, Flip has. I'll bet she was trying to ask the sheep politely:)
Or Flip hadn't studied Bah-Ram-Ewe, to your fleece, your breed, your wool be true.

Bah, Ram, Ewe, Flip, ouch. I love the movie "Babe"..

I hope I write a little more coherently, after dinner. Can you tell, NCC?

Thanks, hon, sorry I was cranky, I do need sustenance, and running on empty increases the blathering, and decreases the coherence factors. A Tad. Okay, a large Shire-Sized tad.

Thanks for reading, kind folks. I HAFTA learn to eat before I type..

To Animals, and the awareness they deserve. They are so aware of us.

GoLightly Facts, Part 2

A view from the trails

On our first hack together, through what was called affectionately (by me) the "Suicide Trails", I was struck by how straight GoLightly was. His poll flowed easily forward of his neck, of his back, of his hind end to his pathetically wispy tail bone. His bone, not his tail. His over step at the walk was sublime, at the trot, divine. He threw me forward and back and forward and back, our post length about 10 feet long. Long, forward straight-as-a-string-taut trot. 1-hang-2, 1-hang 2. I rode without stirrups, to toughen up. I knew enough to trust him. I just hacked him, his bit held gently in his mouth. Snaffle bit. All you need. If you start it off right.

No need for much discussion. I went that way straight, so did he. No, wait he went that way straight, and so did I. Forward, oh, my. Yes, please. Thank you! GoLightly was very polite. My mouth hung open for most of the ride, the good spirits kept the bugs out.

Having re-trained most of my riding life, this straightness was highly unusual to me. I worked hard physically between riding anything, by maintaining as much ambidexterity as possible. Each side of my body had to be equally strong. I was naturally stronger on my right side, so I liked going left better. Most horses I'd ridden were generally one sided, as well. You can sure feel it through their movements and their posture,if you leave them alone. They'd rather go that way. Or that way. GoLightly went straight, that way.

Och, he covered ground. Without really touching. Like an arrow, or a canoe, skimming straight ahead. We didn't canter our first ride. That string-taut trot was just too sweet. Plus my legs were noodles when I dismounted, came close to sitting down. He snorted at that, sweet funny sounds he made. Pah, silly woman. Try an hour. Talk to the hoof.

My boss/trainer, owner of the schoolies I taught with, was asked to provide a long sound bite of a horse trotting. Not sure why, for either a commercial or a movie. (edited, merci JPJC). He chose me and Lightly, nothing more rhythmically beautiful than the sound of GoLightly moving. Trotting was percussion, power without effort. All kinds of microphones and people later, we spun around and around in the little arena, dusty, me of course without stirrups. Perfect practice makes perfect. The sound was hypnotic, with Lightly adding little snorts of dust disgust. It was a nice day! Stupid people.

The footing was pillowy, and soft in that part of the arena.

(Harrowing is so important.)For an article on Arenas, go here

GoLightly was the quietest moving horse you'd ever hear. For his size, it was unusual. For me, anyway:) My trainer's three words to describe him were "He's so broke". Highest compliment he could give, really.

The "Suicide Trails" are still there, but no-one rides them now. They have cliffs higher than most riders hearts. The Six-Mile Creek area in Oakville. Beautiful territory. It's where I took my advanced kids. I liked to give them a real idea of riding, as often as I could. Precipices, right beside you. Ride passed it, go ahead. It really boosted their confidence, knowing they'd survived. Something to be proud of.
More houses are needed, y'know. Instead of trails.

To GoLightly's Trot.
To Irish-Bred Horses. My Own Personal Best Horse.
Swiss Trained.
Sweet.

hasta la vista, por favor, and I have no idea what that means.
pah, silly woman.

a MANANA!!

Warning, Slaughter Topic today

There are many terrible truths out there. I am as horrified as anyone by the abuse and the neglect and the cruelty done to animals on a daily basis.

ALL animals. Not just horses. Horse people forget that the rest of the farm animal population suffers as well. Mel, or AlmightyMarshmellow, as she likes to be called, has an incredible site called the "The Truth about Slaughter". It's true, animals die daily, and as quickly and as profitably as possible. Kindness doesn't enter the equation. Kosher and Ha'lal slaughter methods are truly among the most barbaric slaughter methods still being practiced today. This is a very basic cultural difference, that we haven't been able to change. Nor could we.

The barbarity of dropping dump-truck loads of sheep into the slaughter bins cannot be forgotten easily. Cattle thrashing in agony, as their throats are slit, and they are allowed to gasp as their tracheas are ripped out, while still alive. Horses, still alive, as they are cut to pieces. This is NOT the norm, but of course, given that meat production must be profitable, it happens. Not as often as media would have you believe, of course. But it absolutely happens.

All of this has been true for centuries. Dr. Temple Grandin's work has helped the cattle industry. There are far less stressed, terrified cattle dying now, so we may eat. This is thanks to the good autistic Doctor. Not to any of the paying public.

The paying public wants quick, fast food. Cheaply. Consumers have driven the slaughter industry to what it is today. I am a non-vegetarian. I grew up eating meat. That won't change anytime soon. I'm afraid until the entire world changes to vegetarian, we will not see any significant changes. I'm old, so that will be one less meat eater. I won't make much difference when I go, though.

Absolutely, write your government. I do, weekly. Every month or so, I get another reply. Until I can send enough cash into the right pockets, I will not be able to affect changes.

As I am a small business owner, I don't think the government will be jumping on my requests any time soon. Money makes the world go around.

The Horse world, insulated by their money, is a very small world. Every time a horse owner bleats about the horror of horse slaughter, but is fine with inhumane animal slaughter, another opinion is lost. You can't narrow your kindness down so far.

Humane Slaughter is needed for ALL we eat. Or we will never learn how to be truly humane, at all.

And also, for the record, I have yet to receive any hard copy data of poor Champ's unfortunate demise. I requested it, but as I have been made painfully aware, I am painfully stupid. Crazy, menopausal, whatever. The truth is always more horrible than the fiction. That doesn't make me crazy, folks.

I am hoping all kind stories are true. Sometimes, they are not as true as we'd hoped.

Until we can learn to be kind to all of those in need, including people, we will continue to see these outrageous pictures.

Horror exists, in real life. Not just on the internet.

It's tragic that the people who are most outraged by the cruelty, have the least amount of power (=$$) to affect real changes. They are generally too busy right now, just trying to stay afloat. Ask Madeline if she has any spare cash. I'm tapped out, supporting a farmer ground up and spit out by the very system he supported all of his life.

To Kindness for all creatures, amen.
To Farmers. So far, they've been the only ones made to suffer from the cruelty brouhaha.

Butch's Conformation Shots

side, front rear rearing bucking
also dog worshipping, with frisbee, I believe. A very rare talent.
WarmBellys are the most unique animals on the planet. His spermicide is available this week ONLY.
Perhaps we can all come to mutually bentificial scramms.
Butch is very powerful, and has beautiful gates..
They just don't make horses like this anymore.

I will edit, and add

nauseum.

edited to add the buckin' pitcher. I fergot.
Y'all kan see the dog is still worshipping.
Reel smart dog.

Butch

RollCured, at 53. The end result of Rollkur, in all it's terrible forms....

Hiah,
Mah Namez Butch. Amm 52 years old. This is my frist year showing. Ma master, Butch, wuz resqud off th' truck, jesst last week. She's 54.

No Seriously, This is him, my new Champion, Butch.
Well, my real Old Champion, but there ya go. His name has been Butch, for a very long tahhhhm. Time, sorry. Don't ask me who named him. I was ONE, those COULDN'T have been the first words out of my mouth.

I have a full set of conformation shots, too.
Even some action shots. Rearing Bucking, he's Still straight as a die. Rollcured since I first huggled him.
Canadian WarmBellyBlood.
Not for Sale.
Worship, oh yeah.
to trojans, wherever they may roam..

To the End of Cruelty, too.
Some real belly laughs are good for the soul.
Thanks all.

Happy Birthday, Mom

You'd have been 82 today, darlin'. These pictures of your wedding day, are how I will always remember you. Beautiful, kind, always trying to be happy, always trying to be the kindest person you could be. The picture of you and dad on the beach in Naples, when you were still happy together..

I miss you. I hope you're having fun, playing with Jethro, getting your butt pinched by Larry. Giggling and goopying. Enjoying your mom again, finally, after caring for her for so many years.
Say hi to Gams.

Your sweet face is burned into my heart. I'm so glad we were the best of friends.
We were very lucky, weren't we? I wish I'd known, just HOW lucky I was. Sure takes me a while, but I got there, Mom. I know you are laughing your butt off at the gardener I FINALLY became.

I can hear your voice in my head, if I listen really closely.

"Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune, without the words, and never stops at all." Emily Dickinson.

Here's hoping, for you, my Mom.

TheCulvert, gone

And this should have followed Erosionidiocy101, oh well. Now I'm looking east-north-east, and ahead of me is the culvert, now covered in silt and soil and ice. Being quickly destroyed, for the lack of an old time farmers' knowledge.. As I mentioned, my back pond is to my right, and it's slowly filling in, choking on stupidity, from lack of knowledge, or even desire for knowledge. Flat land good.

Um, ask a prairie farmer what his biggest problem is?
HOLDING SOIL. Soil is precious. Dirt is LIFE!!!!!

I think, I've found the voice I need, FernV. Thanks to all of you.

Bitzy will be right back.

PicsPlace,three

One view is looking due south, "their" land, tree lines just cut down this week, the other view, looking due north, same place, only this is "our" land.
I'm in the back 25 again, southern tip of "our" property.

Which view would you prefer? One with a tree-line, one with no trees. They have been called "shelter belts" for very good reason. Trees protect land, hold it, comfort it.

Unless, you love a chainsaw. Then I guess, yeah, no trees rocks your world. Developer AssHats.

PicsPlace, Two

This is a brand new view, for "our" place. The stumpy stuff sticking up is the remains of mature trees cut this past week, again, on the water course, which is straight ahead here. To the left of the stumps further away, is the pile of brush sawed/drug out of a little copse of trees in a hollow. That will be leveled soon enough. Many deer went through there, many coyote, fox, so many, many creatures. One less place to live. For what? How much will anyone bet that little hollow never grows anything worth harvesting? It won't, and the hollow will return, it's there for some earthly very good reason.

We "have" two ponds, back and front. I am looking due south, front pond to my right. The new owners south of us ordered these trees cut down, and the trees sat, you guessed it, right on the front water course. This water course catches the spill from both the front and back ponds. The trees helped stabilize this spill, spread it out a bit, catch it a bit. Not any more. I betcha my front pond, in an extreme rain storm, (they happen), could lose it's south end's berm. Water needs to stop or slow down, as it flows. Or it will wash everything away..

To Stewards of the Land.

PicturesofMyPlace

For you non-winter people. We've had feet of snow, then we had a rainstorm, and most has melted. Then, we had a hard freeze, and I was able to take the dogs out to the back 25 acres. I have a lot to say about some of them.. This one is Erosion Idiocy 101. When Husband farmed this field I'm showing, this is looking north, of "our" property, he NEVER planted the water course, and always left room for the water to flow. This in turn, allowed the culvert to my right in the picture, to stay above water. This is what happens when you plow a water course. The water dams, because of silt and soil build up. Our back pond is immediately behind me. It has been slowly filling up with soil and silt and crops!, since my Farmer stopped farming this land.

People who give two shites about land, did this work. Not my husband. FernV will understand. You just don't do it, it isn't worth the risk. Soil washes away, down a water course. That's what soil DOES.
next picture coming, I am no good at this, photobucket, well, this is more fun.

HappyValentinesGoLightly

Where-ever you may be. I love remembering my time with Lightly. I've mentioned I'm afraid that the typing will muddy the clarity of the memory. But on a day for sending out kind, loving wishes to all kind hard working people and horses and animals, I thought it only fair to remember a horse I loved, and lost.

His first few months at Peter's were spent as a school horse for his idiot owner. I loved on that horse every chance I got. My night check duties always included my personal delivery of talks and rubs on his huge head. His head was as big as my torso, but it did fit his body. He was just big, all over. "Back like an armchair, butt end like a battleship" is how Aldaniti was described, by Bob Champion. I watched the movie, sniffff. An old-tyme steeplechaser.

Well, GoLightly was an old time jumper. Always in style. Just a big, long, tall strong horse. His head was where people would tsk. I remember one of Peter's "show" grooms laughing at me, as I led him out to ride one day, for calling him "sweetheart". Well, he HAD a sweet heart! ANY one who tells you that ALL horses with roman noses, or smallish eyes are dumb, stubborn cruel etc. is full of themselves. I have a roman nose and small eyes too. I think I have a sweet heart, too. Just sayin'.

The first time I rode GoLightly, as I always do when I introduce myself, we just hacked the beautiful rolling, scenic trails I was lucky to have. Peter was planning on showing GL in Preliminary Jumper, and then selling him, so he did most of the over-fences schooling, at first.

I tacked him up that first time, a little shaky, as I'd rarely ridden so expensive a horse. I'd been dying to ride him, since I met him. The opportunity boggled my mind.
I was afraid it would vanish, this miracle of luck, this horse.
GoLightly cocked his big old head back at me, lifted his nose and snorted his derision at my respect for him. Hey Kid, I'm still just a horse, he seemed to say. Then he farted. He knew I felt bad about using him as the lesson horse. He didn't even hold it against me.

What can I say?
Our trails were winding, and rolling, and dangerous in spots. I'd ridden them on many different horses, mostly bad broke, or young, or whatever. I'd always felt safe, though. Confident that I could hold the horse on a path. But I was always the designated driver.

On GoLightly, I was finally compelled to say, Oh, Okay then. Just go ahead. He picked his way through those trails like a cat. It was such a release of tension, allowing Lightly, my sweet heart, to do what horses do. Cover ground with joy. GoLightly appreciated my light weight and hands and quiet, firm leg. He'd grown tired of the school horse thing, I knew.

I came home from that hack a new rider. A better rider, a more confident rider. Riding a MasterHorse will do that for you. I couldn't WAIT for the next ride...
Heck, no, I'm not done...

Thanks, all.

Darwin'sB-dayEditedforlessclarity..

Break out the bubbly water.. I've had an epiphany, from my closeted point of view. Watched the trial again, from 2004, a NOVA PBS documentary on intelligent design versus Darwin. Now the "gasp" story, (please) is Darwin. aGain. Media does run out of things to actually say, after a while.
It's so SAD. Two things I've gestalted, lately.

One. We've gotten all scientifically breathless, because Humans have 23 genes, and chimps have 24!! Well, duh. We've LOST something. Devolution:) It's been gelling in my brain for years.
I betcha if they counted OUR genes, we'd have 25. Some are evolving.

But, I also think of the rats..

Two. Everyone Scientistically is totally pissed right off, because bacteria invented the wheel! AND, motors!! Who KNEW bacteria were so smart!!
I've long believed we are what we carry, germs wise. We are a moving germ, FCS.
Sheeeesh, is nothing sacred? Why weren't people more amazed, before?

As we peer deeper and deeper into the very humming threads of our beings, we freak out, more and more.
It's darn silly, if you ask me. I mean, if you're scared of the answer, why ask the question in the first place?

Why are these scientists so surprised? Look around you. Doesn't it make sense that it's all part of a fabric, and the interleaves are endless?
Planet of the Apes, to your Left, Us to the Right. Or vice versey. It's all chance, and luck and hope and belief in more than what's right in front of you. Just out of range of your senses. There are other intelligences out there, unless, of course, the moron Carl Sagan was wrong. The chances are never ending, in my sci-fi Opinion.

RIP, Carl. I was being facetious. You would know that.

It's like scientists have decided to just peel us apart, by the genes. Below the depth of what we can actually "see" right in front of us. So much we could learn, if we looked. A little harder, I mean.
Maybe at each other, instead of into the particles of our beings.

Bacteria and our immune systems. They still can't really figure them out. Annoys the heck out of the scientists, that bacteria knew stuff long ago, that we learned in the last 2000 years..They are actually parts and parcels of, to me, the same whole darn thing. It has annoyed the heck out of the scientific, male world.
Weird.

Another tangent, wandering.
Anybody else ever study embryology?

Happy Birthday, Mr. Charles Darwin.
You wouldn't believe what's happened, since!
Hey, I finally bold-ed some text? We'll see.
You all know I'm ranting this outward, yes?
Yes.
(hugs)
TEN more Sleeps, FernValley!
DevoLutionary Out.

Still no Champion sequel, requests? F**k it, I'm throwing that tape in that box.
Where's the kleenex??

Toronto In February

I've heard the sun shines, occasionally. Just some pics of sunshine, dogs burrowing in the snow, and puppy Blaze peeing on February:)

Yeah, me TOO!

Psych.,Soc.,&OtherPartsCrazy

This whole POST is a tangent. Hugs and apologies to FV for teasing, that wasn't nice.

In university, I had to take psychology and sociology electives. Not exactly my favourite, most fascinating subjects. I was constantly thinking, as I was earnestly taught the psychology stuff, "What, you didn't already KNOW that??"

Example. Big, psycho, important study. If you put a whole bunch of rats into a too small cage, they FIGHT. There have been reams of studies like this. Reams and reams and reams. This is surprising? An important find? I learned to smile, and agree.
I didn't even laugh.

The best, only thing I learned from psychology was the word "gestalt". Don't ask me too much, some guy, maybe named Gestalt, coined this term for the ability to take a whole bunch of facts and stuff, and "get" the big picture of whatever you are looking at/talking about. I loved that idea, because I seemed to forever be gestalting stuff. Like young TB's broke as yearlings. Riders doing too much, too soon. Y'know?

Reminds me of horses, riding and training, big time. If you don't gestalt it, you don't get it.

Sounds better than saying you don't get it, anyway.

Sociology was a breeze. No rights, no wrongs. I'm great at describing sociology, it's descriptions from all around you.

Best I can do tonight folks, but I thought I should share my picture. Hope you like it. NCC,whattya think? Are ya scared yet? Wouldn't you laugh at that figure? I can't help it sorry. The searing whiteness of my flesh, is um, grossss.

AofG, picture is of me by the Pacific ocean, playing with my sister and niece and nephew. I am a stick, with a bathing suit on. You wonder why I laugh at myself?
I make myself laugh, looking the way I do.

Do you like the bright red rubber over-sized foot gear? Yeah, this is way BEFORE "crocs" became fashionable. I start a LOT of fashion trends. That in itself, is scary. One picture that's missing, is my nephew holding one of the Giant Red crocs, at fingers length, looking disgusted. He tried to make them float out to sea... They came back. I STILL have them. You can't buy quality like that for $5.99 from the grocery store anymore..

I think I should pass the training blog reins over to AofG for awhile. Bloody brilliant, what you commented on mugs. "applause" "ovation, standing"

And, the deafening silence regarding the sequel to Champions 1 & 2 means that Champ three may have to be canceled, due to lack of advance interest:)

To Horses. To Those Who Are Always Getting It. Like You.

Champions, the Movie, deserving of Part 2

Whether you ask for it, or not. Check out the old style b/w art of a "flat racer". Splat Racer, really. Literally. People used to think Horses flung both front legs forward, and both hind legs backward, allatthesametime. All at the same time. Weird looking, quite. Thank god for stop motion photography, which helped us figure out how they actually DID move. Painters did much better after that.

Only time I've heard of a horse doing that, he hurt himself, pretty bad. Ruptured Peronius Tertius. The Hock is extended, but the stifle is flexed. Bad, berry berry bad. My Handsome BlackHorses' Daddy did it. Kind of a Dummy. Well, he was lucky he'd survived with that old farmer guy that long anyway. Farmer guy knew dairy, horses, not so much.

Beth Underhill's GREAT bucking show-jumper, Altair, also sadly did it to himself, bucking, I believe. Had to be retired. I felt so BAD, that was such a great horse. An Olympic talent, he was. Bright Bay, built like a trampoline. Oh, could he explode off the ground. Talk about springs in your feet, boing, boing, he was so light on the floor. Forever kicking up his heels though. Shaking his head, playing with gravity. Beth Underhill was/is a master of these horses. He was so big, and she looked so tiny. One of the true greats, our Canadian Beth. Another one I admired watching through the years. Good friends with one of her grooms, once. Jamie! Haven't thought of that name in years!

Where was I? I'm trying to channel the movie into my mind, because I've watched it 3000 times, maybe. I exaggerate, but not much.
The opening music is just thrilling. A horn, oh, I wish I could hum it for you.
Doooo, do-do, do-doooo, Higher, anyway. I'll tap it out on the piano again soon.
Give you the actual notes. Wish I "read" music, too. It's stop your heart music, for me anyway. (paragraph, people, paragraphs!!)
It's try, and hope and life, in the music.

A close traveling shot of a jock and his big-striding horse galloping the green hills of the first horse country.

(I know it isn't, but wow the horses from over there.. I'm a bit biased. Asyoumayrecall.)

Bright red chestnut, tall and rangy, gigantic stride eating up the rough ground. It isn't all smooth arenas over there. The ground of the first horse country conditions the horse for his job. The jock, hunched over him like a monkey, a breath on his back, balanced over his heart. The horse struggling/arguing for more contact and more speed, the jock saying wait, wait. The horse's mouth open, no cavesson required, plain ring snaffle bit, drinking in air for more power. Always more power. Aldaniti was a Lion-Hearted Horse. Pulling his jockey's arms out, for more room to explode his stride to overdrive. They look like they're floating, and having a ton of fun.

Aldaniti is ridden by a real jockey in most of his shots, mostly by Bob Champion,
I believe. My tape is fragile..

Bright Red Chestnut. Argumentative, intelligent. Brilliant. That was the best part of the movie for me, 'cause the horse, Aldaniti, just slayed me.
Aldaniti didn't like John Hurt much, or at least, disdained him, for when he was needed. Which he wasn't. The horse had a fire to him, with his odd shaped blaze and strip. A focused, willing eye. I'm trying to remember how the trainer and Bob described Aldaniti. A back like a chesterfield, and a.. DRAT.

He was built like an old english racer, as if that helps. Lean, but so ridiculously sturdy, is the worst word I can think of. Just built to run, and jump, forever. Long Backed, Long Necked, Long Headed, Short Cannoned, I guess. Tall, and lean, and long. But broad in t'beam, too. He sure wasn't narrow!

Exuding strength. And he did the movie after he retired from racing, FCS!
Aldaniti, that is. Not John Hurt, or Kirstie.

John Hurt did do some of the actual riding, I believe. Just not the dangerous stuff.

Bob Champion was cared for after his treatments by his older sister and farm family, with two charming little kids. Big Sister idolizes her Uncle, and is very concerned about him. He chides her for not going with her pony over fences. She protests that he should tell her she was good. Bob C. asks "Do you want me to say that you're good, or do you want to learn to ride well?" and she grasps his hand, looks up at him, (huge brown eyes on this kid, Jersey eyes) and says "I think you're wonderful."
THAT part is memorized. (scrolling....)

Oh, well. I didn't receive any requests to continue anyway.
humph.
:)
(gestalt That's what I wanted to blather about! Reminder Note, here)
Tune in for the next twisted, tangential exploration, of the kinder, middler, saner ground. Just need some more OF it.

PS, new code DQ=WP=BullCrap=BC, check your manuals for the latest updates.

Like frickin' Bill Gates is unleashing Windows 7 in mid 2010. I have to wait THAT long to get a trustworthy new computer? I hear only bad about Vista. Only bad.
tangent over.

Bitz & Ditch out.
kestrel's back!
WHEW. It's just, you missed the kookAid...
Please be careful out there.

Champions, the Movie, further to Champ, on Fugly, of course.

Why is this movie not considered one of the great movies of all time? Starring John Hurt, Kirstie Alley, Robert Hardy, um, other great brits. Great acting, IMO, of course. I guess Siskel & Ebert aren't very horsie.

I have the tape, and it's old, and my tape player is old, and I'm scared to load it up, for fear it'll um, expire in there. Tangent ALERT:)
I wasn't much for mechanical things. Fascinated by the science behind it all, wish I had been taught more about it in school. Why don't they teach kids more about the stuff that's all around them? Relate what they're learning to what they "know"?

That's less relevant today, maybe, my nephew and niece can do 12 things on the computer at once, while I leave the room. We got "home economics" aka housewifery, when I was in school. Gee thanks. Really useful. At least,I wasn't much talented at it. Got so nervous in one class, forgot how to turn off the water tap.

How do I turn off the water? I STILL don't know. Husband won't tell me, and I forget after a while anyway. Don't use it, I lose it. (My dishwasher is gasping on it's last legs, and I think with the age of plumbing I'm gratefully surrounded by, I should know where stuff is). See, I worry about everything. Yes, I can turn off a water tap now. The main water shut-off, I should know. Just sayin'. Betcha my nephew doesn't know, either.

Computers hurt my eyes. Old TV, and Dad's blinding strobe lights he used for a photo shoot of us one long ago Christmas day, och, my eyes have had more light burned into them. I was always "light" and "sound" sensitive. Still am. I can't watch anyone else's computer. I can't watch games. Hurts. So I don't. Not much interest, really, anyway. I would rather be outside.

There's that bend in the road, again..

The movie Champions is the true story of Robert Champion and "Aldaniti", who plays himself in the movie. How cool is THAT? John Hurt plays Bob Champion.
Robert Champion was a successful steeplechase jockey in (where else) England. He won a lot, and rode one horse, said Aldaniti, who was also the training stables hopeful prospect for the Gold Cup and the Grand National Steeplechase. The big prizes.

During the off season, Bob visited a racing stable owner, a dear friend, in the warm state who's name escapes me. There was flat racing, it may have been Texas, Califonia or Florida, or none of these. Anyway, important part IS. While there he bedded a vet, Kirstie Alley, (OMG, she was so young, and so felinely gorgeous) who noticed a lump on one testicle. She made him promise to get it checked out, and it was the Cancer.

Of course, he insisted he was fine, but the doctors finally convinced him to do the treatments, some quite experimental, as he was so sick. He lost one ball. Meanwhile, Aldaniti snaps a suspensory at a prep race, and the vet recommends euthing him.

Of course, Bob was there as a very sick, unrecognizable spectator, and his heart nearly broke. The owners decided to keep the big chestnut gelding alive, and to do everything they could to save him. Bob, meanwhile, is fighting for his life. He very nearly dies, several times. Children, also so sadly at his hospital, finally help him to want to live.

Has everybody seen it? Should I go on? Or do you know/have heard the ending, anyway?
I had the link to the you-tube video of it, but it's been taken down by Racing UK's copyright claim. 1981 Grand National. The greatest ending, ever. It's too bad that the risk and the dangers and the deaths of steeplechase have overshadowed the thrill of the old chase.

Barbaric, yes, But the courage of the horses and riders will always take my breath away. That was and is still the point of these matches, today. A test of courage & skill, of horse and rider. As does great 3Day. Mark Todd, Charisma, Murphy Himself, Ian Stark, Ginny Leng!

Took my breath away. Having ridden in many fields with no jumps, you appreciate people who will use anything handy to jump over.

To Champions of both species.

To kestrel.

For Champagne 'Til Dawn , For aTadPlaid

Such familiar tears, sadness I felt for the bright bay horse on fugs. How much he looked like my Taddy. My small, 16.0 hand on tip-toes, (my horses never grew), all mane and tall and feet. Three year old stallion, that the owner wanted to keep as a stud. Impulse buyer that I am, and a firm believer in repeat performances, I bought a horse that kicked out at me in his stall.

He hadn't been handled much, but he was an Anglo-Arab classy looking piece of horse. Very naturally balanced, very easy with himself. It was winter, and I wanted a bright bay named GoLightly, but Taddy was there. No, I didn't look at his feet, and yes, I was in a hurry. My Mom had passed away. I was pretty scattered, and easily followed the lead of others I trusted, at the time. Low opinion of myself helped.

Never buy a horse in a hurry, unless you rescue of course. I, of course, wouldn't go to auction, ever.

I know, I know! Dumb.

Tad was breathtaking, with a look of the Northern Dancer type he was. His feet were fine to start, BTW. I was surprised to learn that, and threw it in for the GoLightly fiction story. I assumed he'd had turnout. Tad started with a shortish toe, and regular heels.

Tad's feet melted, with all the unaccustomed grain, and no turn-out. Twice. They flattened into pancakes. Lost his heels, his quarters, long toe, no heel..
He kicked his stall, and pawed the ground, towards the end of his life, and I got the call from his last, kind owner, saying I needed to talk to her.

Oh, Tad, oh, my. I'm so sorry.

My first horse, bought by parents and gam, had kicked out at my Dad. I liked that. Not too smart, I was, at 14.

Taddy would have benefited from better training and handling in his early years. (DUH) It wasn't until much later that I discovered Tad hadn't had much turn-out. I'd been told differently. I believe people implicitly, until I don't. I was working full-time, and Tad was boarded at a gorgeous facility. I assumed he'd be well taken care of. HUGE mistake, huge. I entrusted his gelding to the BarnManager, and came up that evening to a miserable gelding, swollen all the way to the bottom of his back legs, in his stall.

Nobody said he needed hand-walked, at the very frickin' LEAST? I assumed people knew that. Who KNEW?? I hand-walked him until he was comfortable, for hours and hours and hours. Late into the night. They should have turned him out, with a calm buddy. HE WOULD HAVE learned something, and moved around, and been comfortable. I asssssumed.

Oops, I'm getting angry again.

Then, I gradually realize that BM doesn't really believe in turn-out, at least for my (never been turned out before) gelding. And he was packing sweet feed to this horse, like he was fattening him up for the truck. Tad was crazy to work with through that time. After work, I needed to come up just after feeding time, remove all the grain I could get, turn him out myself, watch him (as if I could stop some of his antics), wait for him to get his ya-yas out, watch him roll (in solid clay mud later in his life), cool and groom and then start training him. I was hoping for turn-out, at least. The fields were beautiful, and rolling. Perfect for fitting up a youngster. I got home later and later from the barn.

No matter what I said, the BM, (RT), would grain Tad's eyeballs out. I wasn't even trying to ride him at this point, just regular hello, I'm the boss here, nicely. Let's do some stuff. Tad was brilliantly smart, and very sure of his destiny.

He was lovely to canter and jump, my Tad, when I was done. Oh, the first canter he gave me, OMgoodness. Sublime, a TB rocking/rolling/traveling canter. Almost dead straight, lightly in front. His fine trot showed his feet short-comings as he aged. It started really well..

He jumped out of his paddock, once, a four foot rail. Easy and well and airy. Scared the CRAP outta me:) Tad looked down the driveway, warmed up his options, and if I hadn't thrown my shank in front of him, scaring him to a stop, he'd be in Toronto somewhere, still.
All proud of himself, tail flagging on the way back to the barn.

That's when I started riding him. I realized later, he'd probably already been used for breeding. Just scopin' out his options. He hated turnout by himself, but he was merciless with others. Nobody liked him but me.

He finally found a short-term buddy, a wonderful eventer large pony gelding, who put up with nothing.

A brief change in BM's (recuperating from an accident) allowed Tad to learn to calm down and enjoy life with a buddy, and without buckets of grain. I rode him a bit while the BM's healed. Then, we moved. The damage had already been done to his feet, and my heart was broken, again. I put him on pasture board for a year, at a DQ's (A Real DQ) barn. I mean that in the best possible way. She was/is a great horsewoman. Open, honest, kind.

He came back sound, and then, not. He needed daily and weekly care, and I finally found a great schooling barn, where he could be medicated and ridden and brushed and loved, daily and often. Liz (oh,oh, last name, GAH), she runs a good school.

Tad was so beautifully broke, Liz said. He was the star of the schooling barn, with his handsome style. Tad taught kids how to ride for a year or so, and then decided he'd had enough. We let him go. I'm still happy I could at least do that. But it still to this day, hurts. 1993. I have the date. Enough, is enough. I've ridden since.
No luck finding another GoLightly yet, but hope keeps me going.

Handsome horses, bright bays. I'm glad Champ had a peaceful, more comfortable end. Not a terrifying trip to hell.

Champ assuages my terrible guilt, a tad. A very tiny tad.
Some hearts just get broken.

To Champagne 'Til Dawn, and A Tad Plaid.
Fine Bright Bay TBs. Feet can fail, the good hearts never do.

To GoLightly, for teaching me how to train my Tad right, the first time.
The time that counts, forever.

To Great, Kind Trainers.

Betcha there's more than just my own rampaging deja vu going on right now.

DARn tape-recorder..
Sorry for the ramble, I'm tangenting, again.
Oh, well, at least I've shut up about the nuchal ligament.
And Flip-dog eating poo (oops).

p.s. Tad had the coolest hind black white ermined/striped, plaid sock.
A Blue Sock, he had.