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!

GoTadLightlyPlaid

Oh, I did say I'd walk us through Tad's introduction to being a riding horse, didn't I? I hadn't quite finished my thoughts on behaviour chains.
I mentioned I think of behaviours as linear. Our body is a linear being, like a chain. Collapsed, a chain does very little. Stretched and "tensioned" properly, it is a supple miracle. Behaviours are the same, but that's another thought process.

I've been scanning some old pictures, again, finding them as I slowly re-organize my life.
My eyes have been helped by the scanner, I've been able to glean some more of GoLightly's teachings by studying the "blow-ups" of pics done by the scanner, which is this new-fangled thingy-dingy that plugs into your computer:)
How I do run on..

My journals detail my thought processes through this TadTrainingTime. I'm finding them a little harder to translate;) Plus, I've lost them again. They were here a minute ago.. The few pictures I have are surprisingly detailed.

We spent a lot of time just hanging out. Going for walks. The place we boarded at had amazing trails and gorgeous paddocks, and was a reasonably bustling "big" show stable. Tad had lots to look at, while he learned that I made the decisions. Tad had had (snicker) little handling, to this point, and he was just coming three. I carried a small body brush and a rub rag, and I'd make him stand and wait, and then graze while grooming, if he was good for standing and waiting. Taddy was a bit ticklish to start, having felt a brush only a few times in his life before I got him. Time and hours we spent, just letting him know I was always there. Grooming was good. I was always asking him for something, and then letting him have something in return. Fair is fair.

Heck, just turning Tad out was an adventure in itself, as I've mentioned before. I sure got fit, not riding him through our early training together. Long days in the city, long drive to the barn, long hours with Tad.


I longed him, and backed him, and generally speaking, had no problems at all.
Why? Because of GoLightly.

Here we are, on our first hack outside the arena and rings, together. It's our fifth ride, or so. I eventually replaced that silly too small noseband. My bridle at that time was a conglomeration of parts from my first old bridle, shuffled amongst the schoolies, as I made sure the parts fit well enough. I think that was Rainy's noseband..
I actually sat on him first, on April 1st. We used to have really warm springs...sigh. Pardon the tank top.

I wasted no time getting him out on the trails. He's had lots of hacking by now, in this picture.


Just walking, some trotting. The hills were so helpful to his balance. I just left him alone, entirely, on hacks, well, other than go left go right. Whoah had been learned on the ground already, and all I needed was a slight straightening of my hip angle to let Tad know it was time to slow down. Voice commands are your friend.
I just sent him forward and straight. That's all I asked. It was hard enough for him, just doing that. Tad was a young green horse. Never throw too much at them at once.
See how his back end has filled out, and how square and confidently he's standing! My good bay boy.

So, Tad & I hacked and hacked through our first spring/summer, and by the time fall & winter hit, I had a lovely, interested, willing, balanced in himself with me on him, horse. We did minimal ring work. Why ride in a ring, with all those hilly trails around? Tad loved exploring. He had a natural inclination to get goin'. By not being in his face at all, through all of his hacks, and by staying light on his back, I had a wonderful green-broke horse, physically ready for the challenges we'd start facing through the winter months.

I cantered him twice outdoors, (didn't canter at all indoors), before winter set in, the first time going up a hill. It was sublime. The second time I asked, it was in the large sand ring. He cantered quietly, roundly, softly, without any help from me at all. Carrying me around happily, comfortably.
My face about broke that day, I was smiling so hard. Thanks, GoLightly, I breathed, as I floated around on my self-carrying horse. Stay in the centre of the horse, and yourself. Let the chains flex. My arms linked to my shoulders linked to my head/back/hips/legs. Noodles have an amorphous form, whereas chains actually link together better in some ways, than in others. Which is why it's important for the horse and rider to try to achieve those special links. You have to line up your links together..
Sorry, obviously suffering from chain-on-the-brain.

Turning lessons come AFTER forward/straight lessons. All this background work made turning work a breeze, when we finally had to start working in the arena again.

The indoor arena was pretty frickin' narrow, as many of them are. Dark, too, you might have noticed. I'm showing Tad "position right" here, as I ask for a turn, before the end of the arena. It's obvious to Tad, what I want to do, by my body position. I'm grinning. I can't help it. When you're "on", you're on. Oh, there's an issue here. I've asked him for the turn mostly with my outside (left) leg, and my looking right. Cool, huh? He looks so happy. Handsome Bay Horses. I am SucH a sucker for a bay.
Oh, The Issue, because I've collapsed my chain a little, by folding my shoulders forward, justalittle. It's made it a little more difficult for Tad. Matters of degrees. They can make all the difference...
I think some of the biggest mistakes people are making is all the too-early sideways and backwards CRAP. Let the poor creature go forward for the first 6 months! Ingrain the idea into them, first. They need to start somewhere. It'sjustlogical.

Here's a common problem. Too deep. Tad is tired now, he thinks. This was our harder direction, position left was a challenge to us both.


When this happened, I'd ask for a lengthening, as here. My inside shoulder is not helping matters, at all. But I'm staying soft on him, and he's stretching his poor tired back out, as we swing forward for a bit. Behind the vertical=behind the bit. Same thing. Always a bad place to be. Can you imagine if I had longed him in a curb? What on earth for? Ouch.


I ThinK, this was the first night I asked for a canter depart from trot, to the left. He's saying, "Really? I'm so TireD". Good time to ask, he's staying up in front. I was ending on an upward note, anyway. He's a bit miffed, a bit tired. Behind the vertical usually equals an over-done, over-tired horse, imo. So, sensing I was getting to a place I didn't want him to go, I asked for a surprise canter depart. That brought him back up.


Oh, and just so you don't think we spent all our time in the arena, through the winter. I'm riding no stirrups, didn't notice ThaT until I scanned it!


It's the idea that they've got it all down pat, quick, that people go wrong with. Slow and steady, captain. Walking before trotting, before cantering.
It's so BorinG. The basics are the same in any behaviour. Learn the first ones well, first. FIRST. Train the Chain.
Sorry. My rant has been quiet lately, but that one still bothers me. Why is it so important to put a stop and a back and a turn and a sideways on them, so soon??
I have no idea. Lie. I have plenty of ideas. Money starts it, because money = time, human impatience/ignorance finishes it. Wait for the horse to be ready.

To Taking the Time to Train.

RedDogMemories

My Dear Red Dog left me five years ago today. I've mourned her absence every day since, in one way or another. Her softest domed head, her honest, wise eyes. Her chin, pressed to my knee, or my wrist, or my calf. Red Dog never let me out of her sight, if she could help it. The feeling was mutual.

When I first started taking her for walks in the conservation area, my friends (I had two at the time) remarked on how she never went more than 20 feet ahead, before stopping to look back for me. We were made for each other.

I'd been working in the city for almost six years, and I was desperate for a furred creature through the day. My cat Simon (SIGHmon) was getting older, and had never been what you'd call a cat with a LOT of personality. His brother Jethro inherited most of the spark, in their family;) After we lost Jethro, Simon faded a little. Simon sighed, a lot, after he lost his brother.

How lucky I was to find my dog, that cold February day at the Toronto Humane Society. I'd been coached by my friends, and blithely became the owner of my rented house for an hour as the application for her adoption was processed.
Red Dog was soundless at the shelter. I looked at her in her cage, and she lay down, folded her ears back, closed her eyes, and laid her little red head on her crossed paws. I swear, she was praying I'd take her.

Random Mon Ami Tangent
I'd never trained a shelter dog. Mrs. Small's Standard Poodle, Mon Ami, had been my first attempt at dog training. I'd had a much harder time training Mrs. Small.

"OH, Bahbrah, Why on EARTh would I keep my darling on the side of the road closest to traffic? Ami can walk on whatever side of me he WantS! I want to be hit by a car before my darling dog is!" I got her logic, I did.
But after he'd tripped her up several times on snowy sidewalks, Mrs. Small very grudgingly started heeling Ami on her left side. I was worried for both of their safety, and I had to get a little, um, firm, with Mrs. Small. Mon Ami was a big, exuberant poodle.

"How on eartH will I tell him, Bahrb?"
Just tell him to heel, Mrs. Small.
"What? I can't tell him what to Do, he's his OwN dog!"
(I often heard TrickieWoo's yapping in my head, through these conversations with my darlingly ditzy neighbour.)
(that's a James Herriott reference, if you don't know who that is, never mind.)
Just tell him "Ami, Heel", Mrs. Small, and he will.
"Oh, Bahrb, I'll Try, but honestly, I never had to tell (her old GSD's) AnythinG, They just KneW!"
(Yes, the old GSD's listened to you so well, Mrs. Small, I wouldn't say aloud.)
Well, Ami doesn't know everything, yet, Mrs. Small, and if we tell him, he will listen. And you know, he did. It was the first time Mrs. Small used her "Yes, InDeeD" line, on me.
Was he well-behaved, Mrs. Small?
"Yes, IndeeD, Bahb."
Yes, indeed. She was surprised, and pleased, and a little contrite, with those few words. Especially the calling me Bahb part. She lost an "r" in her surprise.
Made My DaY, let me tell ya! Good dog, Amigo! I helped with him from a puppy.
Red Dog was no puppy when I got her.

Back to Regularly Scheduled Red Dog Memories..
Red Dog had to suffer through my newbie dog owner ignorance. My newbie vaccination over-zealousness. My reading of Kohler, after Carole Lea Benjamin. Bad choice, very bad:(
I cringe to think of some of the things I did, to "train" her. Just a very few things of course, but they will never stop rankling. Ignorance is not necessarily bliss, once the ignorance is lost.
Red Dog was incredibly quick learning. I used the longe-line method on her, and the walks on heel, everywhere I could find. Sunnybrook Park has our footsteps still worn into those amazing valleys & hills. Sadly, after she cut herself on a broken bottle, I had to stop the off-leash walks. That's when I knew I had to find a place in the country to live. It was only fair to my dog.

I adopted Red Dog after Tad Plaid had foundered the second time. My horse heart was broken again, and I needed an animal to cheer my days. Red Dog knew exactly how to do that:)

Red Dog's first meeting with Tad was auspicious. Tad HATED dogs. I had brought a friend up to ride Tad, so I could see how his movement was coming along. Red Dog came too, of course. Red Dog, let loose in the arena, made a bee-line for Tad, and dang near tripped him, in front, with her herding skills. Tad pinned his ears, shook his head and became Red Dog's instant admirer.
Tad never put a foot wrong towards her, and he'd been known to kick a dog or two, in his day. Red Dog had a LOT of courage for her size.

Red Dog and Tad had several hilarious arguments about who would get the first carrot. The expression on Tad's face the first time I gave Red Dog a carrot was priceless. Tad would pin his ears and snake/shake his head, Red Dog would mutter under her breath very quietly. Red Dog would win, as she was more polite:)

I've mentioned how Red Dog made up her own tricks. Her magic trick had to be seen to be believed. Lying on her back, she'd hold a tennis ball in her front paws. She'd lift the tennis ball up, cross her paws, and somehow drop the ball back into her mouth. She practiced that trick for years. Once she'd completely mastered it, she never did it again. Red Dog always sought out new challenges.

Stories of Red Dog are still carefully hidden in my heart. Her story wouldn't be complete without some pictures of another of Red Dog's best friends, my room-mate's cat, Pansy. Pansy wanted to be a dog. She hero-worshiped Red Dog, from the moment they met. Red Dog patiently put up with Pansy, from tiniest kitten-hood, all the way up to grown cat-dom. Pansy was a retriever and a skater. Yup, she loved to skate.

I planted a "Serviceberry" Tree in Red Dog's memory, at her burial site, on the shore of her favourite pond. Three years later, in early spring, I saw a white star hovering over Red Dog's grave. Her tree had bloomed, much sooner than expected.


Red Dog could always, AlwayS, make me smile.

To Red Dogs and Great Cats.

I'll probably keep adding to this post for a while, okay? I can't help it. I read and remember, then have to add more.
For her.
Although Blaze is sensibly reminding me she's still alive:) Better go.

OSPCA Visit

6 month old "Kuna", waiting for adoption. Guess the breed, if you dare. My ex-vet used to breed these. Extolled their virtues. They need lots of, who knew, exercise.


Sleepy eyed sweetie in the centre, half-grown cats in this enclosure, one starting to wind up for some bouncing off the walls practice.. I wouldn't take pictures of the kittens. Many kittens, too many cats. Sweet things. All waiting for their always homes.


Green my eyes, oh, this lady beckoned me. She has an adoption pending, I can certainly understand why. I was hypnotized by those deep green eyes. This is a poor, washed out picture of her, plus she was displeased that I hadn't obeyed her more quickly. Come Here, She Said. I did. We gazed at each other for an ageless time. Adopted pending. I hope her new slaveImeanOwner will worship her accordingly.


I was struck again by how clean the place is, and how quiet. The dogs were sleeping happily, well-walked by their wonderful volunteers. I've yet to arrive there and not see a small family or three in with the cats.
Great place, tough job. Kudos to the OSPCA!

Happy Birthdays

To Anybody else out there on this day, of course, and to baby sister, just out of weanling stage now at maybe 47. She won't mind. (I hope). I don't cower to her much, but she still loves me:) Both sisters now, have read here. Everybody behave, okay?

Kid sister was a climbing monkey, as a teeny-weeny. She could climb out of any crib, any play-pen. She'd completely panic my mother in the morning, not finding said child where she was left, a few hours before. Sound asleep, on her change table, in a chair, on the floor. Sister didn't crate well:)
The other pic is me and recently birthed brother. See the worried expression on my face? Yeah. What was the big hairy/scary deal about boys?? That's what I'm thinking. I remember that picture. Was I in for a surprise...


& Building Blocks!
Okay, so I'm reading this "new" (to ME) amazing book. I'm finally starting to get why you guys kept talking about Sally Swift after my posts. I vaguely remember now, thinking (when reading an excerpt from the book "Centered Riding" in Practical Horseman) "I knew that". GoLightly, I swear, he read that darned book. Or he was simply the shuffler of my deck. Whatever it was that he did, it was permanent. I think Sally Swift's exercises and imagery can also be "explained" to the rider by the perfectly broke horse, and/or a keenly observant instructor. It's still pretty easy for me to see when someone is out of center. It shows in their horse, every single time.

Incredible, really, but so simple too. Riding the bones. Hard eyes, soft eyes. Breathing. The building blocks of your body, and how, when they collapse, so goes your riding. Collapsing the blocks of your body has nothing to do with strength, per se, to a point. It has to do with staying balanced, over yourself, so you don't fall down.
Your horse appreciates it. More than he'll ever be able to describe. His attempts to explain often are misconstrued as stubbornness, unwillingness. All the horse is saying, simply, is "Can you allow me to carry you so that I am comfortable, too?
Your answer should always, always be yes.

I'm busy reading now. Don't bug me..

This is a scan of a pencil drawing given to me by a horsie friend in 1966, recently rediscovered. I love how pointillism is happening, through sheer pixellation.
This is for ND_Appy:)



Here's a shot of me and Tad Plaid, I broke him in the fall, this is middle winter or so. I love this shot. I love how soft we are, and how he's really swinging behind, with a soft relaxed back.
Not bad for 90 or so days.


This is for NCCatnip. Also a very good reason why I do not go to the Royal Horse Show anymore. Money Flies out of my wallet, without even thinking. 1993, just before I had to euth Tad. My companion insisted I get this caricature done. It's not even close.
I look way ditzier than that in person.
Aren't you glad I've been tearing apart my house? Artistic gems abound, buried in my old notes and journals.

My heel's too danged far forward, too!

ButchAndTheUID.

You know, there's been something missing from old Butch's life. He's coming up on 53, which is 1,845 in people years, and his poor old legs just don't bend. They never did, though, and he's finally a little cranky about the poor breeding practices that resulted in his immobility. Old Butch is a patient sort. Like most horses on the planet. Just look at the surprise on his face!!
:)
We've just received a mini-miracle in the mail, in the form of the riding bible for thinking horse-people. Sally Swift's "Centered Riding". We've been thinking on it, wistfully wishing for it, and feeling slightly adrift, bereft. Something was missing.

We've been feeling the guilt of a good working dog, when he hasn't had enough to do that day. Or in the case of my two dogs, guilt, squared. I just hoped I'd get to touch this book someday. I'd been wondering why I wasn't aware of Sally Swift and her Centered Riding.
I know why, now. It was published in 1985.

Nothing like tearing your entire house apart looking for paperwork needed by a certain date. Amazing the stuff you can find. I've re-discovered my personal journals from 1984-85. A tad bedraggled, they are:) I've been skimming through them, fascinated by that self-deprecating penniless riding school-teacher, terribly shy, overtly brash. The mentions/descriptions/accolades of GoLightly are amazing, and wondrous, and painful, and illuminating. But my life was in such turmoil (self applied) through those years, that I didn't realize how important little details might help the old memory, later in life..
Write it all down, is what I didn't quite do. I wrote a LOT though:)
No surprise, there..

I mention my fear of old schoolie Chinook going for meat:( My love for all of my school-horse "boys", my heartbreak when I quit, and left them behind. The dimming of a fire that had burned for many, many years, with the loss of the best horse I'd ever sat, GoLightly.
GoLightly wasn't perfect either. Funny how memory clouds certain points. I detail, after his preliminary jumper win at Cheltenham, his poor showing (always with Peter riding, at the big shows) at the next event. Peter mentions to his groom that GoLightly was luggy, lazy. I detail the guilt I felt for that comment, even though it had nothing to do with me:)
Boy, I was WeirD,with a capital D.

I rode GoLightly for a little over a year, I thought it was less than that. It felt like less:(
I write of my frustration that I'll never finally learn to ride him properly, before he's sold out from under me. But through the whole time I'm riding him, I'm learning (through the words I wrote then) to relax, and let him be, and ride him with confidence and assertion. I wrote, "I need to be straight, and square, and supple."
It's cool. From a historical point of view. The horse notes are interspersed with barn and personal drama. Lots of ThaT.

Even cooler to read Sally's words, they ring so many bells, my head feels like a dang cathedral. I'm almost afraid to read those words. It's that kind of awe. Denny Emerson's foreword made me gasp. Still gasping a bit. It's true, because GoLightly showed me that it was true, through the subsequent horses I was able to ride well, with less time in the saddle than I'd feel was ideal. It doesn't take as long to get back into it, if you can remain relaxed, straight, square and supple. Balanced on your own pins, first.
Confidence comes from balance, not conformation. In life, as well as in riding. Training. Anything. Horses. Fascinating.

Butch and I haz some readin' to do. Catching up, for GoLightly.

To Horses.
From the happiest dang ditzy witch eveR.

To Riding Horses as well as you can, for mutual comfort.
I think I'm leaking again:)
Schnickers, schlobbers, scritches and love to my amazing readers!
Have a Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!


Reading his Fan Mail..


Check out the flowing mane and flagged tail!

Behaviour Chains & Their Anchors

In no particular order, I'm posting some more of my favourite pictures of my RedDog. All are from the first five years of her owning me. I love this picture, me and young nephew and velcro red dog, stuck to my heels, firing up to run down that trail.



Big old GSD Samson, 100 pounds to my Red Dog's 30, the only domestic canine he ever allowed into his space. He's jawing on his favourite thing, a tennis ball,here, doing his "aw shucks, I didn't mean nothing" act. Red Dog is preparing for more stick twirling.



Stick twirling. Owned throws the stick into the snow, Red Dog Loved snow, the deeper the more challenge, bridge of Nose Pushes the stick forward, and throw it UP, aaaand Catch. Repeat, with a twirl of the stick, which became more and more incredible, through the years. One, two, three twirls, and catch. WhatAdog.



This move always worried me. When she'd hold it between her paws, point it straight downwards, towards her throat, I'd call it. Usually, she'd just spin it parallel to her body. She's considering whether or not to worry me, here.





Very early days, the first couple of months of being owned by Red Dog. I had no idea how she'd react to my Simon cat. Simon had grown up with Mr's Small's poodle Mon Ami, so he was pretty blase about dogs, and really about everything. Very cool cat. My Roomie's cat, not so much. The first day I brought Red Dog home, Roomie's cat Exploded out from under a favourite chair towards her. Red Dog totally ignored her, nonplussed. Good dog.
Anyway, Red Dog showed Simon the joys of rolling on your back. She's begging Simon to play, while Simon says "I have a CATnip box! Piss OFF!" I'm sorry for the horrible busy background of the two of them on their backs. I haz no decorating skills, and it was a rental house. Good excuse, yes?


I think of life as a very long chain, you see. I think of our behaviours, who we are, as simply sets of behaviours. I've been called analytical and cold, and it's an accurate assessment, in some ways. I've been watching myself with interest for years. Me, myself annnnnd Eye.

It's how I've learned just about everything I ever wanted to learn. I built it, like a chain, until I could travel the whole length without faltering. Physical, or memory, or both. I was settling into my patterns, as a kid. These patterns including lying all over horses necks over fences. Most annoying.

Starting back riding with ol' hammer headed grey horse from a few posts back, I'd been astounded by what parts of me had changed over the years. I'd never stopped reading or watching, when I stopped the horses. I'd stayed fit enough with my red fox dog.

So, climbing back on again, after 6? years was "interesting". Oh, painful, no kidding, but my GoLightly stamped my chain well. As long as I reminded myself of my own symmetry and purpose, old grey horse offered himself gladly to me. We built strength together.

That's what all training is, really. Learning too. It's a chain. It can be broken. It can be rebuilt. But as with any chain, it's better not to break it.


If it's built properly, incredible things can result. A Red Dog that practiced to be a Drum Majorette, or a horse happily piaffing.
(Dr. Reiner Klimke & Fabian, date unknown, thanks again to BunnyAin'tNoKindofRider's Blog, where I originally shamelessly stole this picture from. Hey, I asked!! She never answered. Great to see her posting again. Credit, always, where it's due.)

The Question I ask

seems to have been answered. Practical Horseman is now advocating adopting rescue horses. They have a brilliant article about the potential pitfalls and risks inherent in rescuing, but they still end the article with a pull at your heartstrings..
Bring your trainer, they say, over and over and over. Takes a strong stomach and quick cool eyes to visit these Last Chance Corrals. How many actually bring their trainer? How many even Have a trainer?

So, yeah, horses are going to become even cheaper! yay!
NoT.

Oh, my question? Since 1992, a mentioned rescue in the article had saved 2500 horses. 17 years, 2500 horses. How is the return rate, since then, is question 1.
i.e. How many of these horses are still in the same place? A good place? 17 years is a long time, isn't it?

Question 2, the one no-one likes to ask, and I must, again. By firing up the rescue hormones of the inexperienced rider, the green rider, the brand-new rider, said rider can and (seem to me) often does end up with a horse that can almost kill them, or scare them so badly that they can never ride well again ever. Badly broke are dangerous, you know. Why is this considered heroic? To me, it's just foolishness.

I'm just SAYIN'. Of course, I want them all safe, and sound, and happy and well-fed. I don't always get what I want;)
I also read, what a month or so ago? Horse Sport, our Canadian Horse Show Ragazine, displayed a survey that showed almost 70% of respondents were planning on getting a rescue horse.
Almost 70%. Wow. It helped me understand why I've been seeing so much bad riding, so many excuses. "Oh, my horse is a rescue". Makes everything that horse does, AOK. Look at Pat and Spencer, of course I give her kudos for rescuing him. If she ends up in hospital, due to his issues, how does that help Pat and her horse?
I've read of a "new" rescue endeavour, where 1) You rescue a horse and then 2) You learn how to ride/care/look after it.
Seems a hair backwards to me.

Allow me to quote from the article in PH.
"There are a lot of horse traders masquerading as rescues".
heh, no kidding.
More heart string pulling. "Horses know when they've been saved. They are so forgiving and generous to humans".
Sorry, that is so not true, for too many rescued horses. They are terrified, dangerous critters. Horses are not large dogs. They are 1200 pounds of simmering hysterics, if not started right. It can take a very long time to rehabilitate the damaged.

I can't find a picture I located last night, of a rescued grade QH. His hind legs were straighter than my 4' steel ruler. Why do we rescue these poor creatures?
For ourselves, it seems. Not for the horses.
Much has been made of the survey done by the Unwanted Horse Coalition. Interesting, that PH quotes them at length. I've heard it argued that there is no such THING as an unwanted horse.
Utopian view. JMO.
Of course there are "diamonds in the rough". Of COURSE there are. There are bargoons galore out there at the auction.
I refuse to support them.
I think they should be boycotted.
(end rant)
Just be careful out there!

Favourite Breeds?
darlin' Little Gator, who finally got her danged avatar working, asked a great question eons ago, which I blithely ignored, being all powerful 'n all.
What are your "top 5 Horse Breeds"? I was hoping for a more annoying question, m'kay?

Top Breed for me, of course, is an Irish Sport Horse "type". I love a good TB, well-built and well-brained. Quarter Horses, of courses. I learned a lot from them through the years.
The incredible blood-lines of the great jumpers would take me all day. My hero stallions were, in no particular order, Abdullah, I Love You, Quidam de Revel, Baloubet de Rouet sighhhh... My memory fails me, of course. I was madly in love with the Irish Stallion Cruising, in his day.
Oh, there's a certain Appy Stallion I'd grab in a heartbeat!

A good horse is a good horse, no matter what breed he may be. Enough conformation for his job, and a kind temperament to work with, always, on the ground. Fiery temperaments are useful in many types of riding. How big his heart is, is the most important. How much he cares, for you, the rider. It's the only way horses know how to express pleasure and displeasure, with their rider. Removal is always an option for them:)
I'm amazed how much they do not exercise that option.
Saints, horses are.

A very fine sign;)


Reminds me of the rescue situation, in horses. Good luck to them all.

Angel Blaze Eyes, with her "tinkle-ball", a couple years ago, still so puppy faced. Awwwwwwww


My red dog, in her stick-twirling glory days. She could flip them longways, sideways, amazing, and a behaviour I never had to "teach". She loved to master the art of stick-twirling, through the years. She had a PhD. when she was done. Behaviours offered should always be assessed for their laughter value:)


An old engraving of Eclipse.