Jazzy time

Sunday I was determined to work with chubby Miss Jazzy. She had lazed off the entire summer and most of the spring barely breaking a sweat. My new roommate, however, assures me that he wants to whip her into shape. That means that I need to get her to a place where a new rider can hop on in confidence. While he doesn't fear anything she might throw his way, I don't want him to be injured or to risk my mare through lack of preparation.

That meant that Jazzy needs to pack around my not-so-small ass on her rotund back to gain some experience.

I started with some easy groundwork to make sure she was listening. I saddled her and put her through her paces a second time. I found that when I tried to slide the leathers through the girth, I had difficulty stretching it across her ample chest. Porker.

I slipped the brass holders through the first hole in each side of the girth then tightened it from there. She hunched up, tucked her huge bum underneath her, and bounced a couple times at the canter when the saddle slid forward. While her bucks aren't particularly impressive, I'm not a particularly impressive rider myself and prefer not to test my own ability to remain seated through her tiny, half-hearted fits. I pushed the saddle back and tightened the girth a little more.

Then Jazzy and I took a walk down the road. I wish I had someone remaining behind to record Zeplin flying up and down the fenceline, hollering like his world had shattered. Layla trotted and huffed a bit, but poor Zep thought his herd had been ripped apart.

Jazzy behaved well on our walk, aside from some initial pushiness. That disappeared quickly when I informed her it wouldn't be tolerated. I had not intended to actually ride yet, but she seemed to be doing great. I decided I would hop on her back and see what she did. Before climbing aboard, I alerted the lady who owns the property that I would be attempting to ride Jazzy, and I wanted her to watch out to make sure I wasn't left bleeding and broken on the ground.

Jazzy stood perfectly for mounting, remembering her earlier training. I slid aboard easily. I felt her tense up, a powder keg of powerful Quarter Horse muscle. She had not been ridden since her April adventure with my friend Sudhir and his entourage. I had never ridden her outside of my round pen before.

I didn't push her hard at first, just circled her and tried to keep her feet moving so that she wouldn't worry. We stayed near the other ponies and walked around the small garden plot. Jazzy moved out nicely, albeit much slower than what I'm used to with the Arabs. I felt I had good enough steering and response to try to make a circuit of the hay field.

In spite of my apprehensions, Jazzy moved away from the other two horses without a backward glance. She moved at a steady pace, although she started a couple times when the wind whipped through the trees and brush separating the hay pasture from the neighboring farm land. I didn't have to nag her at all.

With Quimby dancing in front of us, Jazzy and I mosied to the back of the field . She became "stuck" briefly when something in the brush worried her (the downed tree maybe?). She nosed my foot, but I gently pressed against her sides with my legs to ask her forward while turning in the opposite direction. She considered blowing up, briefly, but decided it was too much work. She sighed, dropped her neck while chewing thoughtfully, and continued on toward the far end of the field.

My only goal for the ride was to get Jazzy to relax and steer. She did both, although she was clearly very stiff on the right side. I felt tremendously proud of my stout red mare. She remembered her manners and performed very well, even after vacationing for half a year between rides.

This girl is definitely going to be a reliable one for the roommate, nieces, and nephews!