I love a good list. And a well laid out spreadsheet makes me feel just a bit giddy inside. As the offspring of a librarian and a research scientist, planning, organization, and prioritizing are in my blood. How could they not be? Even so, I've never been much for grand public proclamations of New Year's Resolutions and goals. It seems if I try to make them public, life has a peculiar way of dealing a backhanded blow that knocks some of them into unattainability. Sure, I may still manage to meet many of them, but I just don't like blank boxes on the checklist when all is said and done...
Internally, I know what I want to achieve, and I know there's a cause and effect relationship of inputs necessary to achieve the desired outputs. Most humans are driven by something - desire for love, wealth, fame, happiness, companionship, career success, competitive achievement, etc. Who is ever 100% happy with their current lot in life? Not many, I suspect. It seems there's always something most people would change about their situation at any point in time. Starting a new calendar with a fresh grid of new months and new days makes a good excuse for a new beginning and reaffirming the quest for perfection - the reason that a new year spawns so many resolutions for change, albeit change that may or may not last (a day, a week, a year, a lifetime...?). The thing to remember about one's lot in life is that it's pretty unlikely that you're ever going to be 100% happy about every single thing in life at a given point in time. By all means, try to change the things that you feel are important to change. And if you are a "New Years Resolution" kind of person, then use it as your impetus. Just realize that in life, you have to take the bad with the good, the black with the blue. Just to round out the cliches, it's like seeing the glass as half full while acknowledging that it is also half empty.
Since starting a new calendar is also a good excuse to review the old one, I want to take this new calendar as an opportunity to take a realistic look at my 2012. My last post hit some of the highlights from the tail end of the year. Here is a succinct month by month review of the good and the bad, the blue and the black.
2011
December. I travel to New Jersey to look at a 2 year old red-headed Standardbred recommended to me by my good friend H. She's an excellent equine matchmaker, as it turns out. With help from H and Saxon's owner/trainer I drive him, break him to saddle on the track, like him a lot, and take him home. The horse, Heavymetal Thunder (Saxon), the primary subject of this blog, becomes my best Christmas present ever!
2012
January. It was the mildest winter I can recall since moving to KY. It gave me plenty of time to work with my new now officially 3 year-old (All racehorses officially celebrate their birthdays on January 1st regardless of whether they were actually born in January or June. It makes for easier recordkeeping and race entries). We were still very early in the riding training process, but he was a quick learner, especially when it came to in hand work. We worked on a lot of trust and cooperation exercises, like trail obstacles in hand. I managed to get on his back every single day for over two months until the flu sidelined me. (Some of those days were merely sitting on him in the stall or walking, steering, and stopping in the barn aisle due to inclement weather, but I still managed to get on him every day in one fashion or another.) I spent most of my riding time in my synthetic western or dressage saddles because they afforded me the most grip in trying to ride his lofty, high-impulsion trot. He had a lofty stride and tended to go a little high headed. I couldn't sit his trot. Not even sort-of. I started making roadster silks for him because I thought he might be fun to do roadster under saddle with (and I figured his trot made him a pretty poor candidate for western pleasure, one of my favorite alternate/cross-training disciplines). Even though he was very green and far from polished as a show horse, I attempted to take him to an indoor schooling show to see how he'd handle the unfamiliar setting and give me a better idea of what we should work on together. The truck stalled on me before I even made it to the end of my road, ending that aspiration.
February. Still mild. Saxon continued to do well in his training, getting the hang of moving off leg cues, turning, slowing down, basic transitions, etc. We replaced a bad sensor on the truck. I managed to take Saxon to an indoor schooling show. He exceeded even my wildest dreams. An out of character moment of boldness inspired me to enter him in the green horse walk-trot class prior to the in hand classes I had planned to start with. Without any warmup, without any prior ring exposure (or experience in an indoor arena) other than leading him around the ring earlier that morning, we entered the class of 8. I really didn't know what to expect from him. He handled it like a pro. And won the class. Even after a full season of riding, showing, and working with Saxon, that one still gets me. Three year-old rookie horses with only a few weeks of riding training just aren't supposed to do that! (Not that I'm complaining, mind you!)
March. We showed again. Saxon was still good, though he scratched his cornea in the horse trailer and was squinty-eyed and a little looky. We did another show (his first time tied to the trailer instead of getting a stall). He was pretty anxious about that part. I get my feet stepped on. As I have since come to expect from him, Saxon still handled the in hand classes like a complete gentleman. He had a big freak-out when warming up in the ring under saddle, choosing to stand up on his hind legs and lose his mind in response to a cantering Friesian. We recovered and placed well under saddle in our actual classes, but it left me a little more wary of my young horse.
April. Saxon celebrates his actual 3rd birthday. We did one show. We got there late (I overslept). It was the spookiest arena he'd been in to date and I didn't get to show it to him ahead of time. We had some baby moments of balking, small crowhops, and general lookiness. He had one great class where he held it together (I tailed another horse the whole time and it seemed to calm him down) and won it. Then he saw a well-behaved family (evil, ravenous & horse eating!) during the next class.
May. Saxon went through something of a baby phase from April-June, being less consistent and more rambunctious than he was when he first arrived. We went on a few field trips for experience. A new trailer solved our trailering anxiety woes. Saxon learned the basics of cantering and sidepassing. We introduced some more trail obstacles.
June. Saxon is starting to get downright lazy under saddle. We were attacked by bees. We go to a few shows and try some new things. Saxon makes me proud by winning his first trail and pattern classes like a pro (and we had to canter). Three days later he informs me in no uncertain terms that he does not like carnivals or "truck tug of war" then follows that up four days later by behaving like a pro again.
July. We win a halter class out of 11 horses, though Saxon continues his mistrust of carnivals. Later that month, Saxon's brain proves water-soluble and we have a meltdown at a rainy show. Bad things happen.
August. We do one show. I kneel in poison ivy. My knee swells up like a balloon. We can't go to nationals due to school and other factors. Saxon gets kicked in the leg, but recovers uneventfully. Saxon gets a haircut.
September. We go to more shows. We attend our first nighttime show and our first "gaited" show (oops). Saxon's starting to feel like a real show horse. He makes the workout in a class of 9 and places 2nd. We do costume class for the first time. We have our first all weekend showing experience. Saxon knocks me over and steps on my ankle between shows. I suck it up, take a bunch of Advil, wrap my foot and keep showing. Saxon overcomes his fear of the spooky white fishbowl Saddlebred arena and handles it with great success. We place 1st and 2nd out of several classes with 10 or more horses and win two reserve championships. We try western pleasure at a show and he loves it. Saxon starts to think that jogging is way better than trotting.
October. We show almost every weekend. Saxon wins his first high point championships - OCSC High Point Champion in Halter and English. Then he wins the HCSC Adult English high point. He gives me a black eye one day while I'm applying hoof polish. We go to our first out of state 2 day show (with Standardbred classes).
It's our first show with other Standardbreds in attendance. He is on his best behavior. We win the western horsemanship. (Did I mention that he's really starting to like this western thing?) He places 5th out of 23 in trail (under very spooky conditions). We make the callbacks in a huge WT hunter under saddle class of 26, then place 3rd in the finals. I was shocked that we'd made the call-backs and even more shocked to get 3rd. STBs take the top 3 spots. Woot! Our fear of Friesians has diminished into ear pinning when they pass, but not freakouts. Progress! We go to our first hunter show (WT poles division) and get 1st or 2nd in every class. I am asked if Saxon is a Warmblood. At our final show of the season, we finish the show season the way we started it - winning a green horse walk/trot class (actually, by winning all 3 of our flat classes).
November. We meet the editor in chief of Horse Illustrated. I have a photos shoot with both of my horses. Saxon and I are the fall cover photo of their Facebook page. (How cool is that!?) I finally go to the doctor about my foot (see September/my stepped on ankle). My first doctor suggests "the prayer method." I see a specialist and undergo a myriad of diagnostics.
December. I am given a walking boot/cast and orders not to ride, run (or just about any other form of exercise), or drive stick. (The things I love to do most in life.) Within a week, I am ride my faithful mare Legs without stirrups (My defense is that she's a former therapeutic riding horse. And I need her therapy!). Saxon puts up with my club foot, too, but I still barely manage any riding time this month. I manage to drive stick, too. I haven't run since September. I ride both horses on the 30th (their last official ride as an 18 year-old and 3 year-old, respectively). Saxon hasn't been ridden in weeks and there is snow on the ground. I have to throw snowballs at him to get him to trot (jog lazily) on the lunge line. He's an angel under saddle. WT and even a half dozen strides of canter on each lead. He remembers everything perfectly. I love this horse! And, of course, Legs is Legs. I love that mare, too, though that should pretty much go without saying. I've all but confirmed her sainthood already...
2013
January. Well it's a bit early to summarize that month, now isn't it! Time will tell how my ankle will fare. (I tore one of the ligaments in my ankle nearly completely when Saxon stepped on it. Ligaments heal slower than bones. This is going to take a long time.) For those of you wondering why I went so long before seeing a doctor about my foot... If you are a long-time reader, you know that I'm stubborn. But if you want more details... I basically assigned myself "Bute, wrapping, and restricted activity" to see if it would heal on its own. Ace bandaging (which worked better than the initial medically prescribed splint - I think the doc underestimates the wrapping skills of horse people), OTC anti-inflammatories, and no running. Alas, it did not heal, but I wanted to finish out the show season and was sure (and right on that count) that I would be barred from riding for an extended period of time once I saw a doctor. By dropping my stirrups a hole, keeping it firmly wrapped, and a maintaining a careful ibuprofen regimen, riding was tolerable, albeit probably not therapeutic for my foot. If you jump ahead to the February entry, maybe you can understand why, after coming so far during Saxon's rookie show season, I wanted to finish out. I rationalized that he's only a rookie horse once, and I basically have all winter to heal (and so here we are)...
February. Using my clairvoyance to see into the future, I foresee a trip to New Jersey to visit my STB friends from across the country. I foresee a fun evening with a big celebration and a whole lot of fun. I foresee a bunch of big trophies and ribbons for a certain red headed Standardbred to celebrate all of his accomplishments during his first year as a riding horse. Now don't you want to stick around and find out more!? Because it hasn't happened yet, that means you still have time to make plans to join the fun!
When my rose-colored glasses get too rosy and I long too much for something in the past or something that someone else has, I like to remind myself that life is not an a la carte endeavor. Some choices and situations are a package deal. In 2012, Saxon and I had lots of "blue" moments, such as blue ribbons and blue ribbon accomplishments & learning: standing for mounting, negotiating obstacles, going to our first horse show, establishing different speeds at different gaits, learning to collect, learning lateral work, cantering, testing new skills through new horse show classes, clipping muzzle and ears, learning to trailer calmly, learning to work together (...because the sum of one's equestrian life surely isn't measured solely by the opinion of one horse show judge on a given day). There were also a lot of "black" moments (stepped on feet, equine meltdowns, scratched corneas, bee stings, poison ivy, black eyes, foot injuries, etc.). But that's life. It's neither all perfectly good, nor perfectly bad. Or, to quote cheesy TV theme songs from the '80s "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have The Facts of Life, The Facts of Life" And now all of you are going to be humming that and muttering at me under your breath the rest of the day. Sorry. The takeaway is to remember that life is neither all good nor all bad, but you should definitely take the time to enjoy the ride and appreciate its complexities in the process. And for me and Saxon, all in all, 2012 was a pretty great ride.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Friday, November 16, 2012
No Autographs, Please
I've been a bad blogger. I know it's been months since my last post, and there are details and stories swimming around in my head that I've been meaning to put to paper (or keyboard) before they fade from my mind. Life never seems to slow down enough to allow me to serve my blog justice, so the headlines will have to suffice for now.
So much has happened with me and my horses since my last post.
Legs was treated and recovered from her mid-summer mystery lameness (fetlock cartilage trauma).
I got to do a photo shoot for Horse Illustrated and brag about my wonderful Standardbreds! (It's very gratifying when your horses prove you right - your old veteran goes though all her paces like clockwork, and your 3 year-old doesn't bat an eyelash at the cars whizzing by on the road!)
Legs got her image on a T shirt along with some of my great Standardbred friends - she's the western horse (it's available via the US Trotting web store).
Though I am a little worse for the wear from it, Saxon concluded a healthy, happy, and very successful rookie year.
He won his first championship (3 of them, as a matter of fact).
He made his western pleasure debut (he loved it) and we continued to show western several more times, placing well in every class he went in.
He went to his first hunter show (rocking the walk-trot poles division). (No pic from the show, but I like this shot as a stand in)
He did his first 2 day out of state show and even survived the humiliation of wearing green spandex in front of strangers.
He donned a shower curtain and a cardboard hat and added "costume class" to his repertoire of horse show skills.
He learned collection, lateral work and how to put them to good use.
He discovered that he has the trust, cleverness, patience, and coordination (most of the time!) for negotiating trail obstacles.
He overcame his fear of Friesians and of a certain spooky white fishbowl arena. He did his first real canter class (Hunter Under Saddle WTC) and nailed both leads. He helped me add to my own personal "character" haplessly inflicting a couple injuries that I'm not likely to soon forget. We made many new friends and met a fan of our blog (We have fans - who knew!?).
We went from a green, unsure horse and rider to a true cohesive team.
And he's growing up into quite the handsome and well-mannered young man in the process.
October 2012:
December 2011:
And a certain redheaded Standardbred and his owner were featured on the Facebook cover page for a major national horse publication!
You know, same old same old...
I wonder what he's going to accomplish at age 4?
So much has happened with me and my horses since my last post.
Legs was treated and recovered from her mid-summer mystery lameness (fetlock cartilage trauma).
I got to do a photo shoot for Horse Illustrated and brag about my wonderful Standardbreds! (It's very gratifying when your horses prove you right - your old veteran goes though all her paces like clockwork, and your 3 year-old doesn't bat an eyelash at the cars whizzing by on the road!)
Legs got her image on a T shirt along with some of my great Standardbred friends - she's the western horse (it's available via the US Trotting web store).
Though I am a little worse for the wear from it, Saxon concluded a healthy, happy, and very successful rookie year.
He won his first championship (3 of them, as a matter of fact).
He made his western pleasure debut (he loved it) and we continued to show western several more times, placing well in every class he went in.
He went to his first hunter show (rocking the walk-trot poles division). (No pic from the show, but I like this shot as a stand in)
He did his first 2 day out of state show and even survived the humiliation of wearing green spandex in front of strangers.
He donned a shower curtain and a cardboard hat and added "costume class" to his repertoire of horse show skills.
He learned collection, lateral work and how to put them to good use.
He discovered that he has the trust, cleverness, patience, and coordination (most of the time!) for negotiating trail obstacles.
He overcame his fear of Friesians and of a certain spooky white fishbowl arena. He did his first real canter class (Hunter Under Saddle WTC) and nailed both leads. He helped me add to my own personal "character" haplessly inflicting a couple injuries that I'm not likely to soon forget. We made many new friends and met a fan of our blog (We have fans - who knew!?).
We went from a green, unsure horse and rider to a true cohesive team.
And he's growing up into quite the handsome and well-mannered young man in the process.
October 2012:
December 2011:
And a certain redheaded Standardbred and his owner were featured on the Facebook cover page for a major national horse publication!
You know, same old same old...
I wonder what he's going to accomplish at age 4?
Monday, September 3, 2012
The Ups and Downs of Showing
As my devoted readers know, having a three year-old show horse in the making can be very trying. One day they make you want to pull your hair out, the next they make you burst with pride. Throughout the summer, Saxon and I have been struggling with inconsistency in the show ring. When he's good, he's fantastic. He makes me want to sing his praises and lavish him with hugs and treats. When he's not, it's a full scale meltdown of nuclear proportions. I'm finally starting to have some success abating these meltdowns, so that the calm, quiet (relatively lazy) horse I have at home is the same animal I bring out in public. They say "idle hands are the devil's playground." Idle hooves, it seems, can turn the showring into the devil's playground, too. My new motto is "a tired 3 year-old is a well-behaved 3 year-old." Case in point, before the August OCSC show, he got himself worked up that morning and spent 10 straight minutes galloping around the pasture until he was soaked in sweat and out of breath. At the show, (after a good bath!) even though we arrived too late to walk the grounds and arena beforehand, he was a perfect, quiet gentleman (other than still wanting to suck on my hunt coat sleeve like a pacifier during showmanship). Some of it may be that the whole trailering and showing thing is starting to become more routine for him, some of it may be his new pre-show preventative dose of omeprazole (I've noticed that his appetite at shows is much better now), but I have to believe that a little tiredness doesn't hurt, either. I certainly don't want to overwork him, since he's still young and growing, but I've found that a week of steady riding with no days off and a preshow exercise session makes for a much more relaxing show for both of us (he gets his day off after the show).
Since I started this new regimen, he has been stellar on his last two outings. At OCSC, he was so tired that he was almost lazy (a 10 minute pre-show gallop will do that!), but he cruised through his classes (including equitation and trail - where he had to canter a bit in the patterns) like a pro. [They gave us a dry run in trail before we did the course for real, which was a good thing, because we might not have made it past the horse-eating rain coat otherwise! Once he thoroughly sniffed said horse-eating rain coat, he was totally unfazed by it the second time around.] I was very pleased with his behavior, and he had the placings to match, placing well in full classes, with several wins (including the eq and trail where he had to canter!).
Our next show was a real test of his fortitude. I took him to the Pioneer Saddle Club open show. From the photos on their Facebook page, I could tell it was a pretty casual show in terms of dress, the kind where people show in whatever tack and casual clothes they have and spectators back their vehicles up to the arena to watch. I wasn't sure how distracted he would get by the cars and spectators, but it's something he'll have to get used to if I want to start taking him to more of the county fair shows next year. The show grounds was nice, but the atmosphere was pure pandemonium. It was almost exclusively gaited horses, and riders were weaving behind and around the parked trailers at a high rate of speed. I arrived plenty early, but they had the arena closed up so I couldn't walk him around in there. I walked him around the outside of the arena, but was stopped after a few laps because they didn't want horses near the (completely empty) bleachers. I found a grassy area as far away from the packs of random riders as I could and lunged him. He seemed calm enough, so as long as the ringside white cinderblock building (that he snorted at on our walk) and spectators starting to park ringside didn't faze him, I thought he'd be ok. Nevertheless, when I registered for his classes, I asked if I could enter both the English and Western halter classes. I explained that he was just 3 and I wanted to give him as much chance as possible to get comfortable in the ring. They said ok, so I signed up for those two and one riding class. I wanted to see how he reacted to the ring atmosphere before I committed to more under saddle classes. I later overheard someone talking to the registration person and mocking me for entering both halter classes.
He was good in halter, though he was the only non-gaited horse in either one. The judge didn't seem to spend much time looking over the horses, barely glancing at just their front legs. We only placed so-so, and I had another competitor motion me over later that night to tell me she thought I'd been "ripped off" in the halter classes. (Which made me smile that she was complimenting my horse.) We had a pretty good break before our first riding class, so I spent some time chatting with the older gentleman showing out of the trailer next to me, and rode Saxon around the show grounds for a while. I was pleasantly surprised by how calmly he handled the chaos of the spectators around the arena, horses stomping around inside and next to their trailers, children jumping around, the ice cream truck at the nearby neighborhood, and the speed racking horses careening recklessly past him from all directions.
The sun was going down by the time my class was ready to go. Just as we were ready to go in for our class, wouldn't you know it, they turned on the arena lights, the wind kicked up, and it started to spritz rain. There were eight of us, and I was the only non-gaited horse in the English Pleasure Walk-Favorite Gait (No Canter) class. As one lady in a tank top entered the ring ahead of us, she whipped her horse sharply with the end of her reins. It was a sign of things to come. I stuck to my plan of staying off the rail and away from the other horses. A little girl opened her pink and purple umbrella by the rail as we walked by, and Saxon hardly noticed (As luck would have it, we had been working on sacking out with grocery bags and umbrellas earlier that week. How convenient!). He was a superstar. He was steady at both gaits, stayed on the bit, and remained calm about the racking horses snorting and racing by on the rail. It was a nice enough trip to win just about any class we'd gone in all year. He was just a little antsy in the lineup about having to face away from the flagpole (with blowing flag) in the center of the ring. As they called out the placings, I started to wonder what I was missing. We were finally called in DFL. Eighth out of eight. I know showing is subjective and you are paying for someone's opinion. Some days, the judge loves your horse, and other days it's just not your day. But to have horses place above us that were actively spooking, alternating between the running walk and trot, and lugging on the bit barely in control was an absolute insult. It seemed the faster, higher kneed, higher headed, and more frantic your horse went, the more this judge liked you. There was clearly no place in his modus operandi for a relaxed, low-headed, efficient-moving hunter horse.
I knew my "victory" was how well my three-year old handled the chaotic atmosphere of his first nighttime show. I also knew there was no point in entering any other classes. I couldn't have asked for a better performance from Saxon under those or any circumstances. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by sticking around, or ever coming back for that matter. Nowhere on the showbill did it say the show was for gaited horses only. The only stipulations on it were that show tack/attire were not required, no artificial equipment other than plain bell boots was allowed, and 1/2" or smaller pads were allowed, but no wedge pads (though I saw that the top placing horses in most classes had wedges). Though I am proud of my horse for his stellar behavior, met some pleasant people there (particularly the older gentleman at the adjacent trailer who, incidentally, also left early because the judge didn't like his natural moving, lower-kneed, well-behaved gaited horses), and I generally liked the showgrounds, I will never attend another show by the Pioneer Saddle Club again. If it's supposed to be exclusively for gaited horses, so be it, but please advertise it as such so that other owners of non-gaited horses don't make the same mistake I did. As for me and Saxon, we'll chalk it up as a learning experience, and I hope he continues his calm and mannerly ways. Maybe at our next show we'll once again have the results to match (as we did at OCSC).
Since I started this new regimen, he has been stellar on his last two outings. At OCSC, he was so tired that he was almost lazy (a 10 minute pre-show gallop will do that!), but he cruised through his classes (including equitation and trail - where he had to canter a bit in the patterns) like a pro. [They gave us a dry run in trail before we did the course for real, which was a good thing, because we might not have made it past the horse-eating rain coat otherwise! Once he thoroughly sniffed said horse-eating rain coat, he was totally unfazed by it the second time around.] I was very pleased with his behavior, and he had the placings to match, placing well in full classes, with several wins (including the eq and trail where he had to canter!).
Our next show was a real test of his fortitude. I took him to the Pioneer Saddle Club open show. From the photos on their Facebook page, I could tell it was a pretty casual show in terms of dress, the kind where people show in whatever tack and casual clothes they have and spectators back their vehicles up to the arena to watch. I wasn't sure how distracted he would get by the cars and spectators, but it's something he'll have to get used to if I want to start taking him to more of the county fair shows next year. The show grounds was nice, but the atmosphere was pure pandemonium. It was almost exclusively gaited horses, and riders were weaving behind and around the parked trailers at a high rate of speed. I arrived plenty early, but they had the arena closed up so I couldn't walk him around in there. I walked him around the outside of the arena, but was stopped after a few laps because they didn't want horses near the (completely empty) bleachers. I found a grassy area as far away from the packs of random riders as I could and lunged him. He seemed calm enough, so as long as the ringside white cinderblock building (that he snorted at on our walk) and spectators starting to park ringside didn't faze him, I thought he'd be ok. Nevertheless, when I registered for his classes, I asked if I could enter both the English and Western halter classes. I explained that he was just 3 and I wanted to give him as much chance as possible to get comfortable in the ring. They said ok, so I signed up for those two and one riding class. I wanted to see how he reacted to the ring atmosphere before I committed to more under saddle classes. I later overheard someone talking to the registration person and mocking me for entering both halter classes.
He was good in halter, though he was the only non-gaited horse in either one. The judge didn't seem to spend much time looking over the horses, barely glancing at just their front legs. We only placed so-so, and I had another competitor motion me over later that night to tell me she thought I'd been "ripped off" in the halter classes. (Which made me smile that she was complimenting my horse.) We had a pretty good break before our first riding class, so I spent some time chatting with the older gentleman showing out of the trailer next to me, and rode Saxon around the show grounds for a while. I was pleasantly surprised by how calmly he handled the chaos of the spectators around the arena, horses stomping around inside and next to their trailers, children jumping around, the ice cream truck at the nearby neighborhood, and the speed racking horses careening recklessly past him from all directions.
The sun was going down by the time my class was ready to go. Just as we were ready to go in for our class, wouldn't you know it, they turned on the arena lights, the wind kicked up, and it started to spritz rain. There were eight of us, and I was the only non-gaited horse in the English Pleasure Walk-Favorite Gait (No Canter) class. As one lady in a tank top entered the ring ahead of us, she whipped her horse sharply with the end of her reins. It was a sign of things to come. I stuck to my plan of staying off the rail and away from the other horses. A little girl opened her pink and purple umbrella by the rail as we walked by, and Saxon hardly noticed (As luck would have it, we had been working on sacking out with grocery bags and umbrellas earlier that week. How convenient!). He was a superstar. He was steady at both gaits, stayed on the bit, and remained calm about the racking horses snorting and racing by on the rail. It was a nice enough trip to win just about any class we'd gone in all year. He was just a little antsy in the lineup about having to face away from the flagpole (with blowing flag) in the center of the ring. As they called out the placings, I started to wonder what I was missing. We were finally called in DFL. Eighth out of eight. I know showing is subjective and you are paying for someone's opinion. Some days, the judge loves your horse, and other days it's just not your day. But to have horses place above us that were actively spooking, alternating between the running walk and trot, and lugging on the bit barely in control was an absolute insult. It seemed the faster, higher kneed, higher headed, and more frantic your horse went, the more this judge liked you. There was clearly no place in his modus operandi for a relaxed, low-headed, efficient-moving hunter horse.
I knew my "victory" was how well my three-year old handled the chaotic atmosphere of his first nighttime show. I also knew there was no point in entering any other classes. I couldn't have asked for a better performance from Saxon under those or any circumstances. There was absolutely nothing to be gained by sticking around, or ever coming back for that matter. Nowhere on the showbill did it say the show was for gaited horses only. The only stipulations on it were that show tack/attire were not required, no artificial equipment other than plain bell boots was allowed, and 1/2" or smaller pads were allowed, but no wedge pads (though I saw that the top placing horses in most classes had wedges). Though I am proud of my horse for his stellar behavior, met some pleasant people there (particularly the older gentleman at the adjacent trailer who, incidentally, also left early because the judge didn't like his natural moving, lower-kneed, well-behaved gaited horses), and I generally liked the showgrounds, I will never attend another show by the Pioneer Saddle Club again. If it's supposed to be exclusively for gaited horses, so be it, but please advertise it as such so that other owners of non-gaited horses don't make the same mistake I did. As for me and Saxon, we'll chalk it up as a learning experience, and I hope he continues his calm and mannerly ways. Maybe at our next show we'll once again have the results to match (as we did at OCSC).
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Conspiracy Theory
I can usually take a hint. However, when my mind is made up about something, it requires a whole pile of them to get me to change my mind. When I first got Saxon, I allowed myself the luxury of daydreaming about the progress we'd make and the things we'd do in our first year together. I would look at class lists for showbills throughout the year and think, "maybe we'll be ready to _______ (canter, do patterns, do a trail class, go to a night show, go to ________ <insert spooky location here>) by _____ date." The date would come and go, and we just wouldn't be ready. I know he's just three and we have literally decades together. Still, after waiting so long to find just the right horse, it's hard not to want to do all of that stuff I've been dreaming about. Naturally, debuting at Standardbred Nationals was high on the daydream list. The ultimate dream was to take both him and Legs to New Jersey. It seems that circumstances have been conspiring to dissuade me from my grand plan.
The first factor is Saxon's inconsistency. At home, he's nearly always laid back or even downright lazy. Away from home, however, he's more of a Jekyll and Hyde. Sometimes he displays the same calm, nonchalant attitude that he has at home, and calmly deals with things I wouldn't have expected him to (like spectators under a large umbrella, or trail obstacles magically appearing in the arena). Other times, he melts down into a 1,000# pile of irrational, inconsolable goo. The worst part is that I can't seem to predict it, and once he has a meltdown, it is hard to get his brain back together. I've learned that extensive walking and lunging in a new place helps (but is no guarantee). I've learned that he simply can't comprehend or deal with carnival rides or truck pulls, even from a distance. Rain, also, seems to liquefy his brain cells. People on the rail are ok as long as he had been petted by them, but if he hasn't met them yet, they might be carnivorous. Sometimes large classes are good, and sometimes they're a problem. I keep telling myself that he's still a baby and one day he'll always be as relaxed in new places as he is at home. It's just hard to remember that when he's wheeling around while tied to the trailer or balking and rearing in the ring. Certainly, I don't want to drive a thousand miles to New Jersey if he's going to have a "Hyde" kind of day. I talked myself into believing that with enough time to scope out the facilities, he'd be fine (and probably tired from the long drive). But then...
Then there's our trailer accident. Certainly, a traumatic thing like that could sideline our show plans. After all, we can't exactly show if we can't get there. Thankfully, the trailer was just fine, and the truck has been worked over and given the seal of approval. And though Saxon still shows stress about trailering by prancing and grinding his teeth once in the trailer, even after the incident he continues to load and unload without hesitation. With the propensity of gastric ulcers in show horses and horses in training (over 60%), I have wondered if this plays into his trailering anxiety and inconsistency at shows. As a precaution, I bought him some omeprazole paste to try at our next few events.
Okay, say we go, armed with our omeprazole and our lunge line. What classes do we go in? While we're still working on our canter at home, I don't think he's ready to do it consistently in the show ring. Nor do I know if he's ready to handle some of the humongous classes like 2 gait Eq or 2 Gait HUS (see Jekyll and Hyde reference, above). That leaves In Hand, Intro Dressage (since I once again own a dressage saddle =) ), and the 2 Gait Rookie class. I had hoped to debut him in Western walk-jog earlier this year, but there was a ferris wheel that was just visible from the arena ... so much for that idea. That's not a lot of classes to justify 2,000 miles of driving and 3 days away from home.
Okay, so I'll bring Legs, too, and they can each do a modest number of classes. I finally have the trailer for it, and though I've been taking it easy with her, she's been doing great so far this year. No sooner had I convinced myself that this was the way to go then I noticed her consistently resting her left foreleg on August 1. While horses frequently rest a hind leg while dozing, it is not normal for them to rest a forefoot. I finally found that the nail had pulled through one of the holes in her plastic horseshoes and was being pressed between the shoe and her foot. I had the farrier out to fix it and she spent a week on Bute and stallrest. After about 10 days, she was finally sound enough for light riding. That didn't give me much time to work her fitness up. Still, maybe if I just aimed for a limited number of classes ...
Enter the evil side of Mother Nature. I love having my horses on my property, but it also comes with more than its share of hard work. On August 3, I was pulling fence staples from my woven wire mesh fence in preparation for replacing it with horse friendly flex fence. I knelt down to pull a low staple, and realized that my right knee was smack in the middle of a poison ivy patch. I did the rubbing alcohol thing after hiking back up to the barn; nevertheless, within a few days my entire knee was blistered and oozing, and I was smattered with itchy patches all over the rest of my body. Did I mention that I'm highly allergic to poison ivy? By the 9th, my entire right leg was swollen and oozing. I kept looking down and wondering why I had the right leg of a fat person. Besides the misery of itching, it also prevented me from riding (though I tried once anyhow). By the 14th, with my knee plastered in gauze and Vetrap, I was determined to try riding anyhow (I wonder if the horses noticed stronger leg cues from my fat right leg?). It went ok, then on the 15th, Mother Nature struck again, in the form of a stomach virus. I spent the second half of my first day back in class bedridden (I got nauseous even trying to crawl to the kitchen) and trying (unsuccessfully) to keep my stomach contents in place. I dragged myself to class and back again on the 16th, but typing on the computer from bed is about all that I feel up to.
The final factor conspiring against my nationals bid this year is my class schedule. I'm in class 5 days a week for 4-7 hours a day. Going to New Jersey would invariably mean missing class the following Monday to make the 12 hour drive home. Wouldn't you know it, I have an examination scheduled that day and the class has a firm policy about attendance (miss 2 and you lose an entire letter grade) and make-up work (there isn't any).
So that pretty much seals it. With so many factors seemingly conspiring to keep me in Kentucky this year, I guess I have to take the hint. I hate that I won't be able to show with my friends yet again this year, and I am disappointed that Saxon won't be able to make his National debut this year. But I guess I should heed the subtle half-dozen or so hints this time.
The first factor is Saxon's inconsistency. At home, he's nearly always laid back or even downright lazy. Away from home, however, he's more of a Jekyll and Hyde. Sometimes he displays the same calm, nonchalant attitude that he has at home, and calmly deals with things I wouldn't have expected him to (like spectators under a large umbrella, or trail obstacles magically appearing in the arena). Other times, he melts down into a 1,000# pile of irrational, inconsolable goo. The worst part is that I can't seem to predict it, and once he has a meltdown, it is hard to get his brain back together. I've learned that extensive walking and lunging in a new place helps (but is no guarantee). I've learned that he simply can't comprehend or deal with carnival rides or truck pulls, even from a distance. Rain, also, seems to liquefy his brain cells. People on the rail are ok as long as he had been petted by them, but if he hasn't met them yet, they might be carnivorous. Sometimes large classes are good, and sometimes they're a problem. I keep telling myself that he's still a baby and one day he'll always be as relaxed in new places as he is at home. It's just hard to remember that when he's wheeling around while tied to the trailer or balking and rearing in the ring. Certainly, I don't want to drive a thousand miles to New Jersey if he's going to have a "Hyde" kind of day. I talked myself into believing that with enough time to scope out the facilities, he'd be fine (and probably tired from the long drive). But then...
Then there's our trailer accident. Certainly, a traumatic thing like that could sideline our show plans. After all, we can't exactly show if we can't get there. Thankfully, the trailer was just fine, and the truck has been worked over and given the seal of approval. And though Saxon still shows stress about trailering by prancing and grinding his teeth once in the trailer, even after the incident he continues to load and unload without hesitation. With the propensity of gastric ulcers in show horses and horses in training (over 60%), I have wondered if this plays into his trailering anxiety and inconsistency at shows. As a precaution, I bought him some omeprazole paste to try at our next few events.
Okay, say we go, armed with our omeprazole and our lunge line. What classes do we go in? While we're still working on our canter at home, I don't think he's ready to do it consistently in the show ring. Nor do I know if he's ready to handle some of the humongous classes like 2 gait Eq or 2 Gait HUS (see Jekyll and Hyde reference, above). That leaves In Hand, Intro Dressage (since I once again own a dressage saddle =) ), and the 2 Gait Rookie class. I had hoped to debut him in Western walk-jog earlier this year, but there was a ferris wheel that was just visible from the arena ... so much for that idea. That's not a lot of classes to justify 2,000 miles of driving and 3 days away from home.
Okay, so I'll bring Legs, too, and they can each do a modest number of classes. I finally have the trailer for it, and though I've been taking it easy with her, she's been doing great so far this year. No sooner had I convinced myself that this was the way to go then I noticed her consistently resting her left foreleg on August 1. While horses frequently rest a hind leg while dozing, it is not normal for them to rest a forefoot. I finally found that the nail had pulled through one of the holes in her plastic horseshoes and was being pressed between the shoe and her foot. I had the farrier out to fix it and she spent a week on Bute and stallrest. After about 10 days, she was finally sound enough for light riding. That didn't give me much time to work her fitness up. Still, maybe if I just aimed for a limited number of classes ...
Enter the evil side of Mother Nature. I love having my horses on my property, but it also comes with more than its share of hard work. On August 3, I was pulling fence staples from my woven wire mesh fence in preparation for replacing it with horse friendly flex fence. I knelt down to pull a low staple, and realized that my right knee was smack in the middle of a poison ivy patch. I did the rubbing alcohol thing after hiking back up to the barn; nevertheless, within a few days my entire knee was blistered and oozing, and I was smattered with itchy patches all over the rest of my body. Did I mention that I'm highly allergic to poison ivy? By the 9th, my entire right leg was swollen and oozing. I kept looking down and wondering why I had the right leg of a fat person. Besides the misery of itching, it also prevented me from riding (though I tried once anyhow). By the 14th, with my knee plastered in gauze and Vetrap, I was determined to try riding anyhow (I wonder if the horses noticed stronger leg cues from my fat right leg?). It went ok, then on the 15th, Mother Nature struck again, in the form of a stomach virus. I spent the second half of my first day back in class bedridden (I got nauseous even trying to crawl to the kitchen) and trying (unsuccessfully) to keep my stomach contents in place. I dragged myself to class and back again on the 16th, but typing on the computer from bed is about all that I feel up to.
The final factor conspiring against my nationals bid this year is my class schedule. I'm in class 5 days a week for 4-7 hours a day. Going to New Jersey would invariably mean missing class the following Monday to make the 12 hour drive home. Wouldn't you know it, I have an examination scheduled that day and the class has a firm policy about attendance (miss 2 and you lose an entire letter grade) and make-up work (there isn't any).
So that pretty much seals it. With so many factors seemingly conspiring to keep me in Kentucky this year, I guess I have to take the hint. I hate that I won't be able to show with my friends yet again this year, and I am disappointed that Saxon won't be able to make his National debut this year. But I guess I should heed the subtle half-dozen or so hints this time.
The Horse Show From Hell
This was from last month, but I put off publishing it until now.
Saxon and I have been going to some little local shows here and there. Some days he's just as pleasant and professional as you could want and other days he totally loses his marbles and it's all I can do to deal with him. The horse he is at home is nearly always quiet, willing and relaxed. Lazy even. I keep reminding myself that he's just 3 and someday he'll be like that everywhere, but it can be hard to remember when he teases me with stellar behavior at home, and then has a meltdown in public. I've learned a few tricks to helping him relax away from home, like arriving really early and taking him on long walks and lots of lunging all around the arena and showgrounds to let him investigate. It's not a foolproof system (especially since people tend to set up their tents, chairs, and umbrellas next to the arena after the show has already started), but it seems to help.
I was looking forward to the OC show on Saturday. Our previous show there had been our most successful to date, with Saxon on his best big boy behavior. He had even made me confident enough to try the trail class with him that day, his first time doing trail in public, and he ambled through the obstacles like an old hand. He'd had a few days off earlier in the week while I was out of town, but he was obedient and calm during our pre-show ride. We got there and did our usual walking and lunging routine. He was decent through the in hand classes, though I could tell he was feeling a little feisty when he pinned his ears and tried to race me at the trot in the Hunter in Hand Class.
When we tacked up for the under saddle classes it started to rain. Apparently Saxon's brain is water soluble, as I could practically watch it melt out of his ears the harder it rained. It was a steady rain and Saxon showed his displeasure about facing it head-on by humping his back and trying to buck when it hit his face and ran down his legs. We made it through the class with no major incidents, and before our next class, the steady rain turned to a downpour. Our next class was a large class, but it usually seems to help him stay calm to be around other horses. One horse propped and reared a little in front of us, but I dodged it and continued on. Around the next corner, we came face to face with a little mare who had heard something behind her and whirled the other way. I don't know if it was playfulness, alarm, or an outright temper tantrum about the rain, but Saxon had a meltdown. When Saxon has a meltdown, he doesn't hedge or mince around, he goes full Chernobyl. He humped his back hard and tried to buck. When I checked him up, he reared several times, higher and higher. He finally got his forefeet back on the ground and the judge encouraged me to walk him around to get him together. He walked calmly for about 30 feet and then started rearing again. I have never had to dismount in the middle of a class before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. He even went up again while I was leading him around the ring. I checked him for signs of irritation - a bug bite, pinched girth, bunched saddle pad, ouchy wound, but couldn't find anything. Remounting in the warm-up area to ride him through it got me nowhere, I had to bail again, ripping a hole in my favorite hunt coat in the process. My clothes were soaking, my tack was drenched, and my temperamental toddler was making his feelings about it all none to subtle. After a lunging session we made one more trip into the ring for the equitation pattern for the sake of quitting on a better note. It wasn't pretty; he was looky at the people on the bleachers and slow with his transitions, but we kept our feet on the ground which was a definite improvement.
In hind sight, if that had been the worst of it - the torn hunt coat, the soaked tack, and the temperamental pony, it wouldn't have been so bad. It was still raining hard when we left the show. We were on the interstate about a mile from our first exit. Because of the rain, I was going about 55 (it was a 70), and came around a curve to find both lanes of traffic stopped in front of me. $^*#@$%! I broke hard, but the brakes locked up and I could tell immediately that I wouldn't be able to stop in time. I steered towards the shoulder and continued to pump the brakes, hoping to just ease past the row of cars and come to a stop farther up the shoulder. We were hydroplaning, and the trailer started to sway. One of its wheels hit the muddy grass and pulled the truck into an oversteer. I countersteered, but with some 6,000 pounds of trailer dragging you off the road and into a culvert, there isn't a whole lot you can do. I was cussing as we slid off the road and praying that we didn't roll, but thanks to my years of autocross experience intentionally driving cars on the edge of control, I wasn't panicked. Yet. Thunk. We came to a stop. The truck had made a complete 180 straddling a culvert, and the trailer was jackknifed, angled about 45 degrees relative to the road. I got out, expecting the worst. Upon quick inspection, the trailer looked pretty good, but there was no way to tow it out of there with the truck facing the way it was, nor was I sure about the truck's drivability at that point. Shaking, I opened the back door of the trailer to find Saxon standing in his compartment, seemingly no worse for the wear. No blood, no bumps, no scrapes that I could find. "Thank god." "I have to get Saxon home. How am I going to get him out of here? Who can I call? How do I fix this?" Now I was panicked. I called J. He suggested I call one of my friends in the area, B. She picked up. "Thank god." She had her truck and trailer handy. She attempted to come get us, but the original wreck that caused the pile-up in the first place made it impossible for her to get to us. I waited, alternating between assessing the damage, and standing in the half open doorway of the trailer, soothing Saxon who was drenched in sweat and steaming from the mugginess. Wouldn't you know it, very uncharacteristically I had forgotten to wrap his legs for the show when I left in the morning. I never do that. I was furious with myself for forgetting. Thankfully, he didn't have a mark or scrape on him. Other than a tail full of shavings and the edge of his rubber mat being turned up, you wouldn't know he had gone through any sort of ordeal. Two trailers crept up through the traffic. Both were coming back from the same show, and both had empty slots on them. Both offered to help me out and take me where I needed to go. After consulting with my friend B, we decided to get Saxon to her farm where J was now waiting, and use her rig to get him home (it was much too far to drag anyone out of their way). Another guy, whose truck indicated he was from a hunter-jumper farm, had stopped to help, too. The three of us unloaded Saxon on the edge of the interstate, and loaded him onto the other trailer. He would load his front end fine, but was concerned that his hindquarters wouldn't fit in the back stall of the slant trailer, but we got all of him on after a little more coaxing.
We crept through traffic to B's farm. I thanked the lady profusely, and tried to pay her, but she wouldn't even take money for gas. Saxon must not have been too traumatized by the time we got to the new farm, as he was far more interested in grazing on their lawn than anything else. J and I got him home thanks to the use of B's rig. I fed him, looked him over, and turned him out to roll in the mud and rejoin Legs. He didn't have a mark on him. Not so much as a scratch or a ruffled hair. This from the horse who gets mystery scrapes on the inside of his thighs during turnout. We returned the borrowed rig (Which, we found out later, had the hitch receiver fall off due to frame rust the following Monday while en route to a show. It happened at a red light and thankfully there was no damage or injuries.)
Getting the truck and trailer out of the ditch went smoother than I had imagined. I was sure we'd have to call a truck to drag the trailer out backwards, as the culvert angled sharply on both sides. Somebody kindly stopped to help, though we probably could have managed on our own just the same. We dumped 2 cans of Fix a Flat and added air to the hissing tire that had gravel and weeds jammed into the bead from sliding through the mud. We chocked the trailer wheels securely and attempted to unhitch. A pry bar helped free the ball from where it was bound against the receiver. We drove the truck out of the ditch and turned it around. After some maneuvering, we were able to rehitch the trailer at a better angle, tow it across the culvert, and back again to the side of the road. To say I am happy with the quality of my trailer is an understatement. To go through that sort of thing and protect the cargo within so well...
Thankfully, Good Samaritans still exist. From the folks who stopped to ask if we were ok, and offer trailer rides and assistance, to the friend of a friend two weeks earlier who loaned us his car, his spare bedroom, and his garage full of tools when we were stranded by the side of the road in the middle of Virginia with a broken differential in the Miata... there are still good genuinely nice, helpful people left in the world willing to help out a friend or even a stranger. My only hope is that I'll get a chance to be one of them the next time around, rather than being on the receiving end of the catastrophe.
Saxon and I have been going to some little local shows here and there. Some days he's just as pleasant and professional as you could want and other days he totally loses his marbles and it's all I can do to deal with him. The horse he is at home is nearly always quiet, willing and relaxed. Lazy even. I keep reminding myself that he's just 3 and someday he'll be like that everywhere, but it can be hard to remember when he teases me with stellar behavior at home, and then has a meltdown in public. I've learned a few tricks to helping him relax away from home, like arriving really early and taking him on long walks and lots of lunging all around the arena and showgrounds to let him investigate. It's not a foolproof system (especially since people tend to set up their tents, chairs, and umbrellas next to the arena after the show has already started), but it seems to help.
I was looking forward to the OC show on Saturday. Our previous show there had been our most successful to date, with Saxon on his best big boy behavior. He had even made me confident enough to try the trail class with him that day, his first time doing trail in public, and he ambled through the obstacles like an old hand. He'd had a few days off earlier in the week while I was out of town, but he was obedient and calm during our pre-show ride. We got there and did our usual walking and lunging routine. He was decent through the in hand classes, though I could tell he was feeling a little feisty when he pinned his ears and tried to race me at the trot in the Hunter in Hand Class.
When we tacked up for the under saddle classes it started to rain. Apparently Saxon's brain is water soluble, as I could practically watch it melt out of his ears the harder it rained. It was a steady rain and Saxon showed his displeasure about facing it head-on by humping his back and trying to buck when it hit his face and ran down his legs. We made it through the class with no major incidents, and before our next class, the steady rain turned to a downpour. Our next class was a large class, but it usually seems to help him stay calm to be around other horses. One horse propped and reared a little in front of us, but I dodged it and continued on. Around the next corner, we came face to face with a little mare who had heard something behind her and whirled the other way. I don't know if it was playfulness, alarm, or an outright temper tantrum about the rain, but Saxon had a meltdown. When Saxon has a meltdown, he doesn't hedge or mince around, he goes full Chernobyl. He humped his back hard and tried to buck. When I checked him up, he reared several times, higher and higher. He finally got his forefeet back on the ground and the judge encouraged me to walk him around to get him together. He walked calmly for about 30 feet and then started rearing again. I have never had to dismount in the middle of a class before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. He even went up again while I was leading him around the ring. I checked him for signs of irritation - a bug bite, pinched girth, bunched saddle pad, ouchy wound, but couldn't find anything. Remounting in the warm-up area to ride him through it got me nowhere, I had to bail again, ripping a hole in my favorite hunt coat in the process. My clothes were soaking, my tack was drenched, and my temperamental toddler was making his feelings about it all none to subtle. After a lunging session we made one more trip into the ring for the equitation pattern for the sake of quitting on a better note. It wasn't pretty; he was looky at the people on the bleachers and slow with his transitions, but we kept our feet on the ground which was a definite improvement.
In hind sight, if that had been the worst of it - the torn hunt coat, the soaked tack, and the temperamental pony, it wouldn't have been so bad. It was still raining hard when we left the show. We were on the interstate about a mile from our first exit. Because of the rain, I was going about 55 (it was a 70), and came around a curve to find both lanes of traffic stopped in front of me. $^*#@$%! I broke hard, but the brakes locked up and I could tell immediately that I wouldn't be able to stop in time. I steered towards the shoulder and continued to pump the brakes, hoping to just ease past the row of cars and come to a stop farther up the shoulder. We were hydroplaning, and the trailer started to sway. One of its wheels hit the muddy grass and pulled the truck into an oversteer. I countersteered, but with some 6,000 pounds of trailer dragging you off the road and into a culvert, there isn't a whole lot you can do. I was cussing as we slid off the road and praying that we didn't roll, but thanks to my years of autocross experience intentionally driving cars on the edge of control, I wasn't panicked. Yet. Thunk. We came to a stop. The truck had made a complete 180 straddling a culvert, and the trailer was jackknifed, angled about 45 degrees relative to the road. I got out, expecting the worst. Upon quick inspection, the trailer looked pretty good, but there was no way to tow it out of there with the truck facing the way it was, nor was I sure about the truck's drivability at that point. Shaking, I opened the back door of the trailer to find Saxon standing in his compartment, seemingly no worse for the wear. No blood, no bumps, no scrapes that I could find. "Thank god." "I have to get Saxon home. How am I going to get him out of here? Who can I call? How do I fix this?" Now I was panicked. I called J. He suggested I call one of my friends in the area, B. She picked up. "Thank god." She had her truck and trailer handy. She attempted to come get us, but the original wreck that caused the pile-up in the first place made it impossible for her to get to us. I waited, alternating between assessing the damage, and standing in the half open doorway of the trailer, soothing Saxon who was drenched in sweat and steaming from the mugginess. Wouldn't you know it, very uncharacteristically I had forgotten to wrap his legs for the show when I left in the morning. I never do that. I was furious with myself for forgetting. Thankfully, he didn't have a mark or scrape on him. Other than a tail full of shavings and the edge of his rubber mat being turned up, you wouldn't know he had gone through any sort of ordeal. Two trailers crept up through the traffic. Both were coming back from the same show, and both had empty slots on them. Both offered to help me out and take me where I needed to go. After consulting with my friend B, we decided to get Saxon to her farm where J was now waiting, and use her rig to get him home (it was much too far to drag anyone out of their way). Another guy, whose truck indicated he was from a hunter-jumper farm, had stopped to help, too. The three of us unloaded Saxon on the edge of the interstate, and loaded him onto the other trailer. He would load his front end fine, but was concerned that his hindquarters wouldn't fit in the back stall of the slant trailer, but we got all of him on after a little more coaxing.
We crept through traffic to B's farm. I thanked the lady profusely, and tried to pay her, but she wouldn't even take money for gas. Saxon must not have been too traumatized by the time we got to the new farm, as he was far more interested in grazing on their lawn than anything else. J and I got him home thanks to the use of B's rig. I fed him, looked him over, and turned him out to roll in the mud and rejoin Legs. He didn't have a mark on him. Not so much as a scratch or a ruffled hair. This from the horse who gets mystery scrapes on the inside of his thighs during turnout. We returned the borrowed rig (Which, we found out later, had the hitch receiver fall off due to frame rust the following Monday while en route to a show. It happened at a red light and thankfully there was no damage or injuries.)
Getting the truck and trailer out of the ditch went smoother than I had imagined. I was sure we'd have to call a truck to drag the trailer out backwards, as the culvert angled sharply on both sides. Somebody kindly stopped to help, though we probably could have managed on our own just the same. We dumped 2 cans of Fix a Flat and added air to the hissing tire that had gravel and weeds jammed into the bead from sliding through the mud. We chocked the trailer wheels securely and attempted to unhitch. A pry bar helped free the ball from where it was bound against the receiver. We drove the truck out of the ditch and turned it around. After some maneuvering, we were able to rehitch the trailer at a better angle, tow it across the culvert, and back again to the side of the road. To say I am happy with the quality of my trailer is an understatement. To go through that sort of thing and protect the cargo within so well...
Thankfully, Good Samaritans still exist. From the folks who stopped to ask if we were ok, and offer trailer rides and assistance, to the friend of a friend two weeks earlier who loaned us his car, his spare bedroom, and his garage full of tools when we were stranded by the side of the road in the middle of Virginia with a broken differential in the Miata... there are still good genuinely nice, helpful people left in the world willing to help out a friend or even a stranger. My only hope is that I'll get a chance to be one of them the next time around, rather than being on the receiving end of the catastrophe.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
That Really Stings
It was a normal Wednesday evening. I got home from work, brought Saxon up to the barn, and started grooming him on cross-ties in the barn aisle. I was just about to put his splint boots on, when he started violently biting his sides. I thought horsefly, but before I knew it, we were both in the middle of a swarm of very angry bees! I swatted one on his side with the splint boot in my hand and it stung my finger, all the while I was trying to unclip his cross-ties and speak in a soothing voice. He would have none of that, though, becoming frantic as they swarmed and stung at us both. He reared up high on both hindlegs, snapping one cross-tie at its breakaway loop on the wall (I always use a breakaway loop of twine on each cross-tie and trailer tie for just such circumstances), and bolted into the adjacent stall door, still attached to the other cross-tie. I managed to unclip that one as he bolted back across the aisle into the facing stall, still maddened by the stinging bees. I grabbed one of the cross-ties dangling from his halter and hustled him out of the barn to the driveway. My first thought was to hose him with nice cool water to soothe the stings. One of the nasty bees followed us to the wash area, but I managed to douse it with a stream of water and crush it under my foot before it did any more damage. I ran into the house to get some first aid items, and another one tried to follow me through the front door!
I commenced with the cold hosing, but Saxon would not let me touch him anywhere near the wounds. I counted 5 stings (and eventually found a 6th one) around his rump, loin, and sides. I could sympathize, having been stung on the face and finger in the melee myself, but of course he didn't understand that. He just knew that it hurt like crazy and my touching it only made it worse. I attempted to apply ice packs to his stings, but he objected very violently to the contact. I wanted to give him dexamethasone and Bute, but they were in the barn with the swarming bees! Grabbing the nearly empty bottle of wasp killer, I beelined for the barn (pardon the pun). I took out two nasty ones, and a wasp as collateral damage, managing to retrieve the needed supplies in the process.
That pretty much scratched my plans for riding that night, though after giving him the meds, I decided to lunge him so he could get some of his pent up frustration out. He was being pretty good, and I thought he'd finally simmered down on the lungeline, when he suddenly lost his marbles over a farm implement rumbling down the road. He just lost it. His tail went over his back, his head shot up to a giraffe-like elevation, and he started rearing and plunging around. I tried making him change directions to get his mind back on me, but in my haste, the end of the lunge line was trailing on the ground beside me, and he freaked out about that, too (First bees, then a monster, now a snake!) OK, I reeled in the excess, made him change directions about 40 times, and eventually got him back to sanity. Since he still wouldn't let me check his wounds any closer, I hosed him again, and figured I'd done all I could for the night.
J made it home with 3 fresh bottles of wasp killers a while later, and we set about our assault on the colony of angry bees. I'd determined that they had taken up residence in our straw stack. We had a hive of honey bees last year, but they were a peaceful lot of the philosophy to live and let live, so we let them be and got rid of the hive in the winter, when they were gone and the hive was dormant. This hive had a completely different look to them (fuzzier, larger, and more yellow), and a mentality of strike first and show no mercy!
Using a pitchfork and a board, J jostled each straw bale while I stood on guard for angry bees. We alternately shoved the bales, shot wasp killer, and retreated until, eventually, we had dismantled the entire stack. Through the course of it all, we ruined about 14 bales of straw and killed some 30 or so bees with wasp killer. I'm sure some of the bales barely had any poison on them, but I'd rather not take any chances of making one of my horses sick over a $3 bale of straw! The hive wasn't as big I'd feared it might be, but the bees (the size of a quarter) certainly weren't any smaller or less angry for it. I found one that returned to the battlefield the next morning, but I was armed with my wasp spray and shot him down before he could bring reinforcements. We avenged our bee attack and eradicated the bees, but besides my throbbing finger and head, what really stings is that Saxon has lost some trust in me because of those nasty bees. He saw me in the field when I went out to check on him the next morning, and promptly ran away. It took a lot of persuading (and a lot of peppermints) before he'd finally let me touch him. He still flinched when I tried to touch anywhere near the stings, but he readily took his Bute, and let me rub his nose and face. The swelling is down significantly (which I can attest to on myself) and it's hard to actually see the stings, though I know I can still feel them. It sucks that he doesn't understand that I didn't hurt him and that I'm trying to help him. He only knows that it hurts, and I'm somehow associated with the whole affair. And we'd been making such progress... Stupid bees. I didn't like flying stinging things before, but now... Flying stinging things be warned - stay off my property and away from my loved ones or you will die!
I commenced with the cold hosing, but Saxon would not let me touch him anywhere near the wounds. I counted 5 stings (and eventually found a 6th one) around his rump, loin, and sides. I could sympathize, having been stung on the face and finger in the melee myself, but of course he didn't understand that. He just knew that it hurt like crazy and my touching it only made it worse. I attempted to apply ice packs to his stings, but he objected very violently to the contact. I wanted to give him dexamethasone and Bute, but they were in the barn with the swarming bees! Grabbing the nearly empty bottle of wasp killer, I beelined for the barn (pardon the pun). I took out two nasty ones, and a wasp as collateral damage, managing to retrieve the needed supplies in the process.
That pretty much scratched my plans for riding that night, though after giving him the meds, I decided to lunge him so he could get some of his pent up frustration out. He was being pretty good, and I thought he'd finally simmered down on the lungeline, when he suddenly lost his marbles over a farm implement rumbling down the road. He just lost it. His tail went over his back, his head shot up to a giraffe-like elevation, and he started rearing and plunging around. I tried making him change directions to get his mind back on me, but in my haste, the end of the lunge line was trailing on the ground beside me, and he freaked out about that, too (First bees, then a monster, now a snake!) OK, I reeled in the excess, made him change directions about 40 times, and eventually got him back to sanity. Since he still wouldn't let me check his wounds any closer, I hosed him again, and figured I'd done all I could for the night.
J made it home with 3 fresh bottles of wasp killers a while later, and we set about our assault on the colony of angry bees. I'd determined that they had taken up residence in our straw stack. We had a hive of honey bees last year, but they were a peaceful lot of the philosophy to live and let live, so we let them be and got rid of the hive in the winter, when they were gone and the hive was dormant. This hive had a completely different look to them (fuzzier, larger, and more yellow), and a mentality of strike first and show no mercy!
Using a pitchfork and a board, J jostled each straw bale while I stood on guard for angry bees. We alternately shoved the bales, shot wasp killer, and retreated until, eventually, we had dismantled the entire stack. Through the course of it all, we ruined about 14 bales of straw and killed some 30 or so bees with wasp killer. I'm sure some of the bales barely had any poison on them, but I'd rather not take any chances of making one of my horses sick over a $3 bale of straw! The hive wasn't as big I'd feared it might be, but the bees (the size of a quarter) certainly weren't any smaller or less angry for it. I found one that returned to the battlefield the next morning, but I was armed with my wasp spray and shot him down before he could bring reinforcements. We avenged our bee attack and eradicated the bees, but besides my throbbing finger and head, what really stings is that Saxon has lost some trust in me because of those nasty bees. He saw me in the field when I went out to check on him the next morning, and promptly ran away. It took a lot of persuading (and a lot of peppermints) before he'd finally let me touch him. He still flinched when I tried to touch anywhere near the stings, but he readily took his Bute, and let me rub his nose and face. The swelling is down significantly (which I can attest to on myself) and it's hard to actually see the stings, though I know I can still feel them. It sucks that he doesn't understand that I didn't hurt him and that I'm trying to help him. He only knows that it hurts, and I'm somehow associated with the whole affair. And we'd been making such progress... Stupid bees. I didn't like flying stinging things before, but now... Flying stinging things be warned - stay off my property and away from my loved ones or you will die!
Your Chariot Awaits
In my last post, I covered some of the challenges Saxon and I faced in our travels. Though he had a lot of training and handling as a race prospect, he spent basically his entire young life at one farm - his lack of competitiveness meant that he missed out on the experience of traveling to new places (like the racetrack or other farms) that young racehorses get. That, combined with the fact that the second trailer ride of his life involved traveling halfway across the country on a slat sided stock trailer from New Jersey to Kentucky in December, means that I really can't blame him for being anxious about travel. He is laid back and nearly unflappable at home, but he can get really nervous and keyed up about traveling and new places.
We've been working on that. At home, I've been tying him to the trailer instead of the cross-ties in the barn for grooming and tacking. I've also been working on loading him and letting him spend increasing amounts of time just chilling in the trailer. For much of May, the stock trailer was his dining car, the only place he got to eat his dinner. Readily motivated by food, Saxon learned quickly to load himself in anticipation of a tasty meal, though once inside his enthusiasm for the trailer quickly waned. We eventually progressed from panicked, to nervous, to anxious, to perturbed about being in the trailer, and worked our way up to 30 minutes or more of him standing in the unhitched trailer. Even so, he never lost his tendency to stomp around in circles while in the trailer, and was always waiting for me with his nose pressed to the back gate when I was ready to let him out.
We had an impromptu field trip in mid May. I was planning to take him to a show, but 30 minutes into the trip, I received a call that the show had been canceled due to the previous night's rain. Since we were already on the road, I quickly decided to take him to the local county park as a schooling opportunity. My very accommodating husband agreed to meet me over there, so I wouldn't be all alone in a new place with 1000 pounds of anxious 3 year old, and one of my horse friends decided to load up her STBs to join us. From the driver's seat of the truck, it felt like he had traveled well on our excursion, but upon arriving at the park, I discovered that he had dented up the rear gate, shredded his left hind shipping boot, and ripped his haybag off the wall during the trip (pooping all over everything in the process, of course). He came off the trailer high-headed and nervous. To make matters worse, a baseball game was getting underway next to the arena, and they were doing their pregame motivational chanting and stomping ritual. Saxon looked around, saw the men with bats, saw no other horses, and came to the inevitable conclusion that I had brought him there to be hunted down by this pack of bat wielding, shouting cavemen! I tried to tie him to the trailer to remove what was left of his shipping boots and assess the damage, but he was rearing and dancing around, so there wasn't much I could do. Even on the lead line he didn't want to graze, so he spent the next 30 minutes dragging me all around the park at a nervous walk. Justin and I took turns being dragged around, since he wouldn't stand still. I eventually put him on the lunge line so Saxon could expend some of his nervous energy at his own expense rather than his handlers' expenses.
Saxon was just starting to settle down when my friend's trailer pulled in. At the sight of other horses, his excitement level shot up again, and he took it out on the lunge line, wheeling about with loud snorts and his tail over his back. His excitement was infectious, and the other two were snorty and uncertain, too. So another 30 minutes of walking all 3 horses around the arena ensued. Eventually they all settled down to the point that we could tack them up and ride, and they were all pretty good about it, too. It ended up being a longer day than had I actually shown, but I think it was good for him.
Well, the shredded shipping boot had solidified in my mind that I needed a different trailer for him. My stock trailer could be converted to a 2 horse straight thanks to a removable divider, but when I tried backing him out of it with no divider, he had a pretty big panic attack and nearly clocked himself on the trailer's roof. This meant that he had to be trailered solo in that stock trailer, and I had to tie him because he tried to constantly circle once inside the trailer. (I was afraid of him hurting himself while in the process of trying to turn around.) Well, he'd get ticked off when he tried to turn while tied and couldn't make it around, and SLAM, SLAM, SLAM - kick the walls of the trailer with all his might. I decided that a slant load would be better for him because I could lead him on head first, secure him safely with a divider for travel, and lead him off head first when we arrived at our destination.
I decided to look for a 2 or 3 horse gooseneck slant load. After measuring most of the 3 horse models at a big trailer lot, I decided that a 2 horse might be better. Most of the 3 horse ones were 18' or longer on the box. My driveway is easy to turn into with my 12' stock trailer, doable with my friend's 16' one, and uses every inch and watchful eye available to make the turn in a 20' model. Finding a 2 horse slant gooseneck is harder than you might think, especially on a budget. I definitely wanted to upgrade to aluminum, if possible, since my trailer has to live outside. (I am fanatical about waxing my steel stock trailer, but I know pretty much nobody else in the universe is like that!) I searched website after website for available models, dimensions, features, prices, reviews, and reputation. I ended up with a giant chart of trailers that ultimately boiled down to about 3 real choices once I'd gone through them with a fine-toothed comb. I was looking at a used 2004 model 2H Bison Alumasport (aluminum skin with steel frame) with all the options, a 1999 base model 4 Star Stock-Combo that had been around the block quite a bit (for quite a bit more money), or a new Shadow 2H all aluminum that was stripped down and cost almost twice as much. I'd read a few negative reviews of Bisons online, but ultimately found that they centered around the giant living quarter monstrosities and the all fiberglass roof that Bison had stopped using years ago, and most people with the regular non LQ versions had positive things to say. (2004 was actually the last year they made a non living quarter gooseneck horse trailer.) I checked the Bison over in person with a fine-toothed comb, and it was in excellent shape (the lady's husband laughed at me when I checked the date code on the tires and climbed under the trailer to look at the supports and check for structural integtrity.) Once I found out it was an extra tall model, with nicely padded stalls, and the rear tack room collapsed easily (to let Saxon unload head first), that pretty much clinched it. I became the proud new owner of a very nice trailer!
We went about it slowly, but Saxon warmed up to it pretty well. We first investigated it with the dividers and tack room collapsed out of the way, and eventually progressed to loading and pinning him in. He continued to want to prance his feet once loaded up, but stopped trying to turn around once he found out he couldn't go anywhere (Instead, he just piaffes in place now.). He loved the escape door, because it made the trailer more bright and inviting to enter, and he could stick his head over the chest bar to look around once inside. And, after a few sessions, he became confident enough to back out of it without having a panic attack. Now, we are able to back out calmly (even with the tack room divider up) like a normal horse, though I always say the word "hup" when he's about to step his foot off the back so he knows where the dropoff is.
Since then, we have taken a few practice trips - one just to the post office and back, and the other back to the county park. This time around, there was no rearing when he was tied to the trailer, and he settled down much faster. (Though he was quite insistent that he had to sniff everything around him in very fine detail). The new trailer has polished aluminum on the nose and rear doors. I thought Saxon might be startled by his reflection in the back door when tied to the trailer. On the contrary, he was quite enamored with himself. Saxon found himself quite the handsome fellow and wanted to admire his reflection from all angles. My horse the narcissist! Riding wise, he did quite well this time around (it may have helped that there were no bat-wielding neanderthals, I mean baseball players present), and we even cantered under saddle in the ring (his first time doing so away from home).
We went to a show a week later, and while he had a few "moments" about the horse-eating toddlers and folding chairs near the showring, he was excellent about the trailer. He stayed calm while tied to it, and loaded and unloaded readily both times. I was pretty delighted with the trailer, too. For the first time, I had a *real* dressing room to change in (it has a skylight and a screen door - how cool is that!), and I could really spread out my tack and equipment. If I had a complaint, it would be not enough saddle racks (2 for a 2 horse trailer - don't they know that versatile Standardbreds need lots of wardrobe changes?) or outside tie rings (2 per side, and the second one's too close to the back door to be useful anyhow). But I can work around those details, given the trailer's many other merits. Saxon still wants to piaffe in place once inside, but he seems to be calming down overall. I don't know if it's the new trailer, more experience, or both, but I'd say that's a win either way.
We've been working on that. At home, I've been tying him to the trailer instead of the cross-ties in the barn for grooming and tacking. I've also been working on loading him and letting him spend increasing amounts of time just chilling in the trailer. For much of May, the stock trailer was his dining car, the only place he got to eat his dinner. Readily motivated by food, Saxon learned quickly to load himself in anticipation of a tasty meal, though once inside his enthusiasm for the trailer quickly waned. We eventually progressed from panicked, to nervous, to anxious, to perturbed about being in the trailer, and worked our way up to 30 minutes or more of him standing in the unhitched trailer. Even so, he never lost his tendency to stomp around in circles while in the trailer, and was always waiting for me with his nose pressed to the back gate when I was ready to let him out.
We had an impromptu field trip in mid May. I was planning to take him to a show, but 30 minutes into the trip, I received a call that the show had been canceled due to the previous night's rain. Since we were already on the road, I quickly decided to take him to the local county park as a schooling opportunity. My very accommodating husband agreed to meet me over there, so I wouldn't be all alone in a new place with 1000 pounds of anxious 3 year old, and one of my horse friends decided to load up her STBs to join us. From the driver's seat of the truck, it felt like he had traveled well on our excursion, but upon arriving at the park, I discovered that he had dented up the rear gate, shredded his left hind shipping boot, and ripped his haybag off the wall during the trip (pooping all over everything in the process, of course). He came off the trailer high-headed and nervous. To make matters worse, a baseball game was getting underway next to the arena, and they were doing their pregame motivational chanting and stomping ritual. Saxon looked around, saw the men with bats, saw no other horses, and came to the inevitable conclusion that I had brought him there to be hunted down by this pack of bat wielding, shouting cavemen! I tried to tie him to the trailer to remove what was left of his shipping boots and assess the damage, but he was rearing and dancing around, so there wasn't much I could do. Even on the lead line he didn't want to graze, so he spent the next 30 minutes dragging me all around the park at a nervous walk. Justin and I took turns being dragged around, since he wouldn't stand still. I eventually put him on the lunge line so Saxon could expend some of his nervous energy at his own expense rather than his handlers' expenses.
Saxon was just starting to settle down when my friend's trailer pulled in. At the sight of other horses, his excitement level shot up again, and he took it out on the lunge line, wheeling about with loud snorts and his tail over his back. His excitement was infectious, and the other two were snorty and uncertain, too. So another 30 minutes of walking all 3 horses around the arena ensued. Eventually they all settled down to the point that we could tack them up and ride, and they were all pretty good about it, too. It ended up being a longer day than had I actually shown, but I think it was good for him.
Well, the shredded shipping boot had solidified in my mind that I needed a different trailer for him. My stock trailer could be converted to a 2 horse straight thanks to a removable divider, but when I tried backing him out of it with no divider, he had a pretty big panic attack and nearly clocked himself on the trailer's roof. This meant that he had to be trailered solo in that stock trailer, and I had to tie him because he tried to constantly circle once inside the trailer. (I was afraid of him hurting himself while in the process of trying to turn around.) Well, he'd get ticked off when he tried to turn while tied and couldn't make it around, and SLAM, SLAM, SLAM - kick the walls of the trailer with all his might. I decided that a slant load would be better for him because I could lead him on head first, secure him safely with a divider for travel, and lead him off head first when we arrived at our destination.
I decided to look for a 2 or 3 horse gooseneck slant load. After measuring most of the 3 horse models at a big trailer lot, I decided that a 2 horse might be better. Most of the 3 horse ones were 18' or longer on the box. My driveway is easy to turn into with my 12' stock trailer, doable with my friend's 16' one, and uses every inch and watchful eye available to make the turn in a 20' model. Finding a 2 horse slant gooseneck is harder than you might think, especially on a budget. I definitely wanted to upgrade to aluminum, if possible, since my trailer has to live outside. (I am fanatical about waxing my steel stock trailer, but I know pretty much nobody else in the universe is like that!) I searched website after website for available models, dimensions, features, prices, reviews, and reputation. I ended up with a giant chart of trailers that ultimately boiled down to about 3 real choices once I'd gone through them with a fine-toothed comb. I was looking at a used 2004 model 2H Bison Alumasport (aluminum skin with steel frame) with all the options, a 1999 base model 4 Star Stock-Combo that had been around the block quite a bit (for quite a bit more money), or a new Shadow 2H all aluminum that was stripped down and cost almost twice as much. I'd read a few negative reviews of Bisons online, but ultimately found that they centered around the giant living quarter monstrosities and the all fiberglass roof that Bison had stopped using years ago, and most people with the regular non LQ versions had positive things to say. (2004 was actually the last year they made a non living quarter gooseneck horse trailer.) I checked the Bison over in person with a fine-toothed comb, and it was in excellent shape (the lady's husband laughed at me when I checked the date code on the tires and climbed under the trailer to look at the supports and check for structural integtrity.) Once I found out it was an extra tall model, with nicely padded stalls, and the rear tack room collapsed easily (to let Saxon unload head first), that pretty much clinched it. I became the proud new owner of a very nice trailer!
We went about it slowly, but Saxon warmed up to it pretty well. We first investigated it with the dividers and tack room collapsed out of the way, and eventually progressed to loading and pinning him in. He continued to want to prance his feet once loaded up, but stopped trying to turn around once he found out he couldn't go anywhere (Instead, he just piaffes in place now.). He loved the escape door, because it made the trailer more bright and inviting to enter, and he could stick his head over the chest bar to look around once inside. And, after a few sessions, he became confident enough to back out of it without having a panic attack. Now, we are able to back out calmly (even with the tack room divider up) like a normal horse, though I always say the word "hup" when he's about to step his foot off the back so he knows where the dropoff is.
Since then, we have taken a few practice trips - one just to the post office and back, and the other back to the county park. This time around, there was no rearing when he was tied to the trailer, and he settled down much faster. (Though he was quite insistent that he had to sniff everything around him in very fine detail). The new trailer has polished aluminum on the nose and rear doors. I thought Saxon might be startled by his reflection in the back door when tied to the trailer. On the contrary, he was quite enamored with himself. Saxon found himself quite the handsome fellow and wanted to admire his reflection from all angles. My horse the narcissist! Riding wise, he did quite well this time around (it may have helped that there were no bat-wielding neanderthals, I mean baseball players present), and we even cantered under saddle in the ring (his first time doing so away from home).
We went to a show a week later, and while he had a few "moments" about the horse-eating toddlers and folding chairs near the showring, he was excellent about the trailer. He stayed calm while tied to it, and loaded and unloaded readily both times. I was pretty delighted with the trailer, too. For the first time, I had a *real* dressing room to change in (it has a skylight and a screen door - how cool is that!), and I could really spread out my tack and equipment. If I had a complaint, it would be not enough saddle racks (2 for a 2 horse trailer - don't they know that versatile Standardbreds need lots of wardrobe changes?) or outside tie rings (2 per side, and the second one's too close to the back door to be useful anyhow). But I can work around those details, given the trailer's many other merits. Saxon still wants to piaffe in place once inside, but he seems to be calming down overall. I don't know if it's the new trailer, more experience, or both, but I'd say that's a win either way.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)