Yesterday Julie called me and told me she planned on trailering her Swedish Warmblood mare, Vivian, and her Westphalian gelding, Parker, over to my house. She wanted to ride Vivi with me and pony Parker. Vivi is a very "easy keeper" (I know the feeling!) and needs to trim down some so that she can do some more serious dressage work. Parker is only 2.5 years old and roughly the size of the (former) Sears tower. I told her Sybil planned on arriving around four to meet Miss Caly, so we should be able to ride before then.
Julie loaded her kids into the trailer and phoned to let me know she was on her way. Shortly thereafter, Sybil also called to inform me her plans had changed and she, too, was on her way. I tried to reach Julie to forewarn her but didn't get an answer.
I wanted to ride the Spotted Boy Wonder as well as Caly, since he has been nothing more than a pasture spud for several months. I caught him easily and led him to the roundpen. Right away he presented his pushy side, something I will not tolerate. I tied him to the corral panels and returned to the pasture to grab Caly.
Caly, my sweet, loving filly. The attention hound, the girl who loves to be petted and adored.
Caly took one look at me approaching with the halter and took off, flying down the length of the fence. Jazzy didn't know why she was running but didn't want to be left behind. Together they cantered to the corner and stopped to look at me. When I approached, Caly was off again, tossing her head and driving her black legs forward like a freight train. Her nostrils flared red. She dived around the round bales and tore down the short hill to the far side of the pasture, Jazzy trailing behind.
Frustrated, I decided to work with Zeplin for awhile and come back later to get Miss Priss.
Zeplin reverted to his best stallion imitation, trying to push past me as I led him to the back pasture. I asked him to walk on the longe line, pointing with my left hand and whirling the end of the rope at him with my right. He snorted and lightened his front feet, half rearing up at me. Oh dear, now I had to deal with two bratty three year olds. I didn't have my training stick with me, so I tied Mr. Stallion-Wanna-Be to a tree and retreated to the house to regroup.
A few minutes later I exited the house, wielding my orange stick with a plastic bag tied to the end in triumph. Zeplin wouldn't always longe with just the stick, so I added the bag for insurance. He saw the bag as I approached and half pulled back, even though it wasn't fluttering (I was holding it tight against the stick to keep him from panicking).
The Spotted Boy Wonder and I faced each other across the expanse of my 14 foot black and green leadline. He glared snottily at me, daring me to fix his adolescent attitude. I stared right back, pointed my left finger, and raised the right hand with the stick and bag. The breeze caught the happy little Walmart bag and slapped against it with an audible snap. Zeplin's eyes widened to the size of plates. He leapt straight in the air and bolted away from the dangerous, horse-hungry Bag-Monster. Fourteen feet of rope sprung taught from the ground and a jolt ran up to my shoulder from the arm at the end of that live line.
From there it became relatively easy to direct my ungrateful little turd. When I asked for the canter and shook that little bag at him, he responded like a trained racehorse. He slowed to a trot when I eased the pressure, although he wouldn't drop to a walk. I switched his direction a few times for good measure. Finally I dropped the demonic stick to the ground and he faced me, sides heaving as he gulped in great breaths of sweet, precious air. His attitude had dispelled, chased away by the ghost of Walmart. I asked him to yield his hind- and forequarters, desensitized him some with the rope, taught him to move away from pressure on his girth area, and called it good. He followed me obediently back to the roundpen where I gave him a couple treats and left him while I went for Caly.
Caly still wouldn't let me near her, which is highly unusual for my round little pony. I gave up on chasing her down and settled on bribery. A feedbag with a small amount of grain held high and given a small shake drew two galloping mares to me with an invisible string. I allowed Caly to take a mouthful of grain, then I tied on the rope halter and left the remaining feed to Jazzy.
Caly gave me no more problems. She longe-lined easily, for the most part responding quickly to my vocal commands. We had just finished when Julie pulled up with her trailer. Ever vigilant, Quimby the Guard Dog flew across the yard to "supervise" Julie's job of backing in the trailer. I called her, again and again, but she happily disregarded my order to return, intent on making sure Julie parked correctly.
*Sigh*
Was this the day for inattentive and rebellious four-legged children? I tied Caly and retrieved Quimby. For her insolence, the now-repentent canine was banished to her crate in the house for the remainder of the afternoon without even having the opportunity to greet her buddy Julie.
Julie unloaded Vivian and the small mountain she calls Parker. I think he's grown at least a foot since the last time I saw him. Anyways, she tied them to the rings on one side of her trailer and groomed them. I informed her that Sybil would be arriving earlier than expected, so we would have to wait to ride until after she left.
Vivian tied to the trailer last time Julie brought her over (September)
Julie tacked up Vivian while I searched for tack scattered across my house. I caught my sole free horse, Jazzy, and put her in the roundpen with Zeplin. Julie wanted to put Parker in the roundpen, so the horse shuffle commenced. I ended up tying Zeplin and Caly to the side of Julie's trailer opposite Vivian and Parker, then taking Jazzy to the back pasture. I opened the electric gate to the side pasture so that I could ride in there with Caly.
A strange orange compact car pulled into my driveway and parked behind my motorcycle. Sybil had arrived. I quickly introduced myself, pointed out Zeplin and Caly, then led her around the trailer to meet Julie. At that time, the skies opened up and large wet drops of rain began to fall. It wasn't a heavy rain, but it seemed to put a damper on our plans.
Sybil and I chatted while I saddled Caly. I wiped off the saddle with a towel. Fortunately, the rain trailed off and the weather looked clear again to ride. I admitted to Sybil that one of my great flaws with training my horses has been teaching them to stand for mounting. Caly illustrated my point by swinging out her ample butt when I stood up on the overturned water tank to mount. I did manage to get her lined up between the tank and the corral panels and slid onto the saddle. She immediately walked off, but not too far. Julie had already mounted vivian from the side of her trailer.
We rode our horses through the gate to the relatively level area of grass in my pasture. I warmed up Caly by walking her in circles around Sybil then asking her to do some trotting. She obliged with a light squeeze of my legs. I demonstrated Caly's walk, trot, a bit of a canter (I'm still a bit intimidated by the canter, especially on my greenies), halt, and back. For such an inexperienced pony, Caly responded well. Sybil had me walk and trot Caly towards and away from her in a straight line. Julie had wandered across the road to the open field beyond, and she was working Vivian. I called her to signal time to switch mounts. Julie is a much better rider than I am, so I wanted her to display all of Caly's capabilities in a more confident manner.
I climbed on Vivian's back while Julie demonstrated her moves to Sybil. Vivi and I crossed back into the field. When I asked her for a trot, she rose up before stretching out to trot, transfering her power to her generous rear motor. We rode back and forth along the road, mostly trotting. Vivi tried to break into a canter, but I pulled her back down to a trot. I rode back up my driveway just as Julie headed Caly out of the pasture. "I want to take her in the field because she's being lazy," she told me.
Caly moved out more for Julie in the pasture, but it was clear she was tiring. She had already been longe-lined and worked in the grass. The tilled farm ground was rough to navigate and wore out her young legs.
Jazzy and Parker hollered constantly at their buddies across the road. We scaled the embankment from the farmland to the road and dismounted once back on my property. I conversed with Sybil while untacking Caly. She hadn't even broken a sweat. Sybil reached out to pick up her hind leg, and Caly moved back, startled. A short session followed where Julie demonstrated appropriate technique for handling a horse's feet with approach and retreat while I held Caly against the trailer. Sybil took a few pictures of Caly, but she still had a lesson to teach in a nearby town so she had to hit the road.
"I think I'll leave Caly tied to the trailer while we ride," I told Julie. Zeplin was still tied, and I saddled him up for our trip. Sitting on him again, the first time since August, felt like coming home. The goofball is my boy through and through!
Caly watched us stroll down the driveway. Zeplin walked directly up to Julie's truck and touched it with his nose. He acted surprised to see one of the struggling cedar trees at the end of my drive, but I asked him to check it out and he overcame his apprehension. Strong and sure as always we strode down the gravel road, as if no time had elasped since our last ride. Julie and Vivian followed close behind.
Far ahead of us, Zeplin spotted some iffy objects. After harvesting the corn in the fields, the farmer had baled the stalks. The round bales lay in a neat row at the edge of the field. Zeplin never spooked, though he kept his gaze fixed intently upon the equine-eating creatures. We approached them with some trepidation. I nudged him into the field where he marched right up to one and touched it with his warm muzzle. We repeated the process with a bale in the row across the way. Vivian grabbed a mouthful from each bale she could reach.
Julie and I had a lovely time visiting. Vivian wanted to trot, so I allowed Zeplin to pick up his pace. He ducked his head and acted like he wanted to buck, so I spun him around and pushed him forward again. Good ol' Zeppers attempted that a couple more times over the course of our trip. He wasn't difficult to bring around, though. I laughed at each display of obstinance, noting to Julie that he warned you well in advance when he wanted to be naughty.
We trotted most of the length of the dirt minimum maintenance road. Vivian moved up into a canter, so I asked it of Zeplin. He obliged but ducked that heavy head again, and I wound up spinning him around to prevent him from bucking. Turd. I didn't ask again, but we resumed our nice jog.
Zeplin is a gawker. He pays far too much attention to what is going on around him than where he is placing his feet. That neck is always craning around, peering into the distance to see what may lurk out there. As a consquence, my pinto Ay-rab is prone to tripping now and again. It was on one such occasion that he stumbled to his knees and I rolled neatly over his burr-ridden neck. I landed on my well-padded rear looking up at the startled face of a pony who rapidly regained his feet. It's when Zeplin isn't trying to unseat me that I end up in the dirt!
I dusted off my breeches and checked over Spotted Boy's legs. They looked alright, nothing swollen or hot. I pulled him to the ditch along the dirt road and asked Julie to hold him while I swung aboard. I was very proud of myself for making it in one try, and doing so in a manner that actually appeared graceful! That certainly doesn't happen very often.
Some of the time on our jaunt I rode sans stirrups, my way of working more on developing my seat. I did use them for the trotwork and when I thought Zeplin might object to something. We turned around at the end of the minimum maintenance road to head back. Zeplin behaved most of the trip home. He reduced his pace, clearly worn out from our trek. I think he did fabulous for a greenie who hadn't been ridden in a few months!
Today I'm sore all over, like someone beat me with a two-by-four. *Sigh.* Someday I'll be in prime riding shape and 50 pounds lighter. Someday.
Zep in front of Julie's barn (August)
