The Mojo

What will I remember about the start of 2010? For starters, the most insane weather, first incredibly wet and now incredibly cold. Our pond has completely iced over solid and thick. I have been wearing a camouflaged sleeping bag whenever I have had to venture to the barn to feed the horses, thaw out frozen faucets, and chip holes in the ice in the water tanks. It makes my muscles and shoulders tighten up with shivers and my poor lips are in shreds. I do not like the inconveniences of cold weather. It would be different if I knew that this was the norm, and could have those things which are vulnerable, like the water situation, set up to be frost free and warmed. My wonderful outdoors life has been put on hold, I am being held captive, and I am doing some serious chomping with cabin fever. It has been this way now for a darn long time, way too long. I am over it and am ready for spring, or at least a thawing of the permafrost here.

The best thing by far that has happened this year, or in a long while, is that once again, the University of Alabama won the National Championship, this time for the 13th time in its history. Thankfully, in at least one area of the current chaos of the cosmos, the world is back spinning in greased grooves. It was such a special season of watching the team grow and improve, the stars emerge, and having Coach Saban's teachings and rantings pay off with the championship win, and seeing so many awards given to his fabulous players.

From the beginning of the football season Mark, my fanatically rabid fan of a husband, and I watched the games with a determined ritualistic pattern of behavior. There were certain places we sat to watch the games, particular drinks that we would have to drink in order for the team to do well, foods that were eaten or not, and most definitely some people, who mistakenly thought it would be hilarious to telephone us in the middle of the game, that remain persona non gratis. We felt it our duty to do our part to help the team get through each game with a win, no matter the sacrifice.

Superstitions have their own amusing way of growing and becoming masters of your behavior. Once a pattern of things going one way appears, there is a desperation to find the reason for it doing so, so that whatever the thing suspected of being the reason for the pattern, can be reused to same effect. If scratching the dog on the head coincides with Alabama making a score or happens when the other guys drop the football, then the dog is probably going to get a lot of scratching. Mark carried a piece of St. John the Conqueror's root in his pocket during the games and our game day outfits did not vary.

When I used to go to a season full of horse shows, the pattern I found for me to win the blue ribbon was that I had to purchase a new horse related thing before each show. Had to, or risk losing. It didn't require anything be expensive and for that matter, be needed, but I was doomed if I broke from this pattern. I also kept a penny that I had found in the bottom of my right boot, I had a laminated four leafed clover in my tack box, and a small bottle of brandy in there too, in case I needed it for consolation. A friend of mine who was also going to these shows then, had to eat tacos the night before the class or she too was lost. Whatever works, works, that is until it doesn't seem to work anymore. Then you seek out the next rabbit's foot, talisman, or good luck charm that puts things back right.

Good luck charms work because of the focus and the power of positive thinking that you give them and that makes them have strong magic. They become symbols of the hard work and energy that goes in to any endeavor to being a winner. A simple rabbit's foot doesn't have any special magic until you believe it does, and to win at anything you have to have both the magic, and the dedication to the job. Clearly Alabama had both for this year and I hope for more years to come. They sure improved the beginning of this year for me. Now we only have to wait until August or September for the next games and then see what our next rituals will be.

Until then......Roll Tide.

The Value of a Work Horse

I have to begin with saying that I love my horse, Sunset. No, I am not 9 years old and believe that my pony wants to do everything it can to please me because it loves me. Removing that, Sunset is about as close to the perfect horse I could ever want to deal with, ride, drive, what ever.

Sunset Beach is a 10 year old Dutch Warmblood mare who I bought as a yearling from a breeder in California and had her shipped here to my farm in Alabama. From the minute she got off the van she impressed me with her cool, calm, and reasonable nature. She had just spent a full week in a tiny box stall in a semi, zigzagging across the country, stepped off the ramp and gave a look around and then proceeded to walk calmly another several hundred yards across an open field to her new pasture without an ounce of frolic, the other horses running madly around their fields whinnying and bucking.

She is from the old school line of the Dutch breed, the Gelderlander, the Basis horse, used in the agricultural areas, known for their work ethic, power, and steadiness. But they are not dull. Sunset is no Jaguar, but more of a cross between the Hum-ve and a Rolls Royce. Sunset is a bright chestnut with a lot of chrome, built square and wide, has a block shaped face, and grows a fuzzy, feathery legged coat long before the snow hits here once a decade. And she has one blue eye.

When I began her training I first taught her to lunge with a bit of desensitization/sacking out stuff, then ground drove with harness. I then had someone start her in a carriage for a month. Sunset took to driving as though it was we who were so stupid to not know that that program was already installed. I don't even remember how I began riding her. There was no period where she was being broke. She just went to work. Not that she began with flying lead changes but her learning curve was a very steady upward climb, and continues. She has never given me objection to do anything I have asked of her, never bucked, reared, or so much as made a face at me. She just does her job. That is the highest value to me that she, or any horse, could have.

I think about my great grandfather, and both of my grandfathers, who all dealt with horses and mules on a daily basis, for farming , transportation, and lastly recreation. Imagine my great grandfather dragging my great grandmother in a wagon from North Carolina to Tennessee with a horse he had to lunge to get the bucks out of everyday before hitching to and rolling on. Then too, my grandfather who traded horses and mules for farming/plowing had to have those animals that were able to start their daily work without having to go thru a dressage typical warm up to do their jobs. Calvary units did not begin their charge into battle with a few hours of trot transitions and shoulder in.

I think we as riders in a limited environment forget that horses were originally domesticated to work for us, and that meant traveling, carrying, and with no nonsense. The horses that got with this program were highly valued and the ones that didn't most likely became stew.

Because our world is mostly bound by fences we now tend to keep our horses traveling in precise circles, seeing little, cloistered, creating unsafe horses for doing anything but this. We have begun breeding dramatic movers for these confines, disregarding the qualities that defined and made possible things like the settling of America, things like solid temperaments and brains. Riding horses with this fine way of moving is great fun but sad for it to become an end all, with both rider and horse forgetting that all that discipline in the circle has purpose for safer traveling and work. We have become hostages to white railed arenas.

Yesterday I did ride. Time being tight I chose the one that I knew would just get going with no issues. It was freezing and I wore an enormous camo insulated jump suit over my riding pants and boots. I climbed on Sunset, who has maybe been ridden 3 or 4 times in the last two months, walked out to where the ground was not so hard frozen, and even tho this mare was fresh, she immediately went to work right where we had left off. With my extended outer wear it would have only taken a tiny hiccup to have me slide right off but again, my girl was great. Did I say I love this horse?

Perhaps because of my background as a kid galloping evil ponies, later eventing, and then more recently doing combined driving events with Sunset I remember the joy and freedom of just going somewhere, sometimes quite fast. I also recognize that the horses that I regularly take out on long drives or trail rides are always happier and safer. Sunset was born with an excellent brain but others who are more flighty can greatly improve with just being allowed to go somewhere with a purpose. I encourage all to try it. Ride on and happy trails.

Taking Care of Your Equipment

My last entry said it was chilly when I got up. Ha. Today is flat out freezing cold, literally, and forecast to be even colder for the next basic week. The routine will include but not be limited to having pipes to wrap and or faucets to let run, busting the ice in water tanks to keep the horses drinking, covering of the camellias that are in bud now, just trying to protect those things which are not accustomed to such temps . It probably won't include any riding unless the sun comes out and I can find enough clothes to wear. I plan to do a bit of inside stuff and then maybe some tack cleaning and assessing as to wear and stress damages on the leather, and tidy up the barn.

It is Monday of the first week of a new year. The revolving door of visiting family and friends has now stopped spinning, sheets and towels have been washed and put away, the last of the chex mix has been consumed, and a few resolutions have been tossed around. I love having the company of everyone at the holiday time but wish somehow that their visits could all be coordinated to happen at one time instead of being strung out for a month. It is just exhausting keeping up with all the hospitality jobs that it entails. My world, today is now back to the quiet of pre-Thanksgiving, just me and the critters out here. Big sigh.

As soon as I find my lovely camo jump suit I will head to the barn to feed and assess cold damage and hope seriously to not find any. I need to top off the bird feeder too. Looking out the back porch window I can see some very slowly moving, very fluffy birds frantically searching for one more sunflower seed. A likely time for a visit from a sharp shin or coopers hawk to come blasting thru to get themselves a meal of bird. Nature is a tough chain to be in the middle of. My personal preference is being in situations where humans are pretty close to the top.

Cleaning bridles and saddles was something I used to never give a thought to, because I just simply never cleaned them. At first I didn't because bringing my things home from the barn to clean gave reminder to my father that I greatly preferred riding horses with all the dirt and smells and not so lady like activity to being at the country club visiting with friends and playing tennis. He would give me such a hard time about it that it just wasn't worth it. Funny, he used to have a stipulation that every time I spent out at the barn had to have been earned by equal time spent playing tennis. I got very good at tennis and my saddle was dry and crispy.

My attitude changed about the importance of first, buying only good quality leather and then second, taking care of it, when I had a major equipment failure. Trying to be a bit frugal years ago, I bought a cheap bridle thinking it would be a great way to not waste the use of a good bridle while working a young recently backed mare. It was stiff and a poor piece of what might be regarded as leather, made in India, and a really dumb red color and, sure enough, I got what I paid for.

This young mare had been sent to a trainer and had just returned, supposedly, quite broke and ready to go. It didn't take too long to see that she still had some bucks under the hood, so I set up my ride to deal with this issue. What she did not want to do was to go forward on command, so I put my leg on and suggested that she move. As predicted her head went down and her back came up and the cork was just coming out of the bottle when I grabbed the right rein short up and lifted with all I could to rearrange her teeth. Pop went the rein.

Uh oh is right. With her newly found freedom from the effects of me, she then proceeded to let the next cork out with more conviction. I was already off balance so sending me flying was nothing. On the way back down into earth's atmosphere I was already thinking about that poor choice of bridle and how I needed to get back on her once I was back on the ground, and use the better bridle back in the barn.

It was then late October and the ground had dried to a well seasoned concrete slab and I hit first on my left hip and then face planted into a fire ant bed. With my breath knocked out and stunned, I laid there for several minutes wondering how bad was it. When I had finally realized the ants were all in my hair and I was being eaten alive, I got to my feet and went to the barn to catch the horse. My back hurt like crazy and I was allergic to the stings but my plan was to get back in for a few before heading to the emergency room.

I didn't make it back on the horse that day because I could not lift my left leg to get up, (later it was discovered I had broken spinal processes L3 and 4, hence no connecting functional muscles.) I drove myself to hospital,where I spent the next week in total bed confinement scratching the ant bites, followed by another month of rest wearing a corset. All of this, because of a weak and poorly tanned and made piece of leather, followed by an equally poor decision in buying it.

Coughing up the cash for a well made bridle any time, but especially in these economically disastrous days, is a tough thing to justify. One of my bridles that I did splurge on nearly 15 years ago, a Stubben, is now a bit worn after a lot of use, but the leather is still strong and pliable. I take good care of and try to use only the best leathers now. There are many places for error and mistakes in working horses and it isn't such a good idea to cut any corners on this area. It is just too potentially expensive to do otherwise.

Ironically the title above is a part of the mantra that my tennis promoting father used to preach to us as kids about caring for the things we had and used (I guess he didn't regard saddle care as falling into this category at that time). The whole saying from him was for us to "take care of your equipment and your equipment will take care of you". I have learned all I need to know about this lesson the very hard way and I do follow the mantra. Some times what our parent say actually makes sense...sometimes.

Hey, the sun is now out, the sky is blue, and the mud is frozen. Sounds good enough to go riding for me. Besides today if I get bucked off I will at least have on enough padding to bounce.

A Frosty Morn

My kitchen view of the pasture this morning was of total white, glimmering, and cold. The horses were standing heads lowered in what rising sunshine there was like reptiles on rocks. At least for today there is no rain forecast. That apparently changes tomorrow with another front line moving across the state to keep things continually soggy. I have now fed the horses and will do a few other things and let it warm up a bit before riding one of two of them later this afternoon, time allowing.

It has been so incredibly long since I have had a solid full day, or any length of time strung together, to really work the all horses. I did get one short ride in on Sunset last week, or was it the week before. Can't even remember. I could barely remember which rein you pulled to go which direction. I am exaggerating of course but in fact while the muscle memory does remain, like riding a bike, the subtle communication lines between the horse and myself are so muffled that what remains are simple gross indicators. Kind of like not speaking a foreign language in a long time. While the basic vocabulary is there, the fluid use and thinking in that language, escapes. I haven't forgotten how to sit there but I can't remember my check lists of what we were working on the last time the horse and I were in tune. The horses too have a hard time focusing on me and are like kids who have been on spring break for a week or two. From past experience I know it all will come back as soon as I get time to get back to a regular schedule with them, but it will take a frustrating regaining of lost ground.

When I was down at the barn feeding the beasts a little while ago, I did notice that their collective focus was on something either in the woods or at the far end of the field beyond my vision and hearing. It apparently wasn't scary enough for them to pass over their food so I didn't bother to worry about it either. Now, though, back in the house the mystery goes further...I just got up to check on the laundry and passed by the window that looks out to the back of the pasture and woods that they had been so focused on and there was something out there that I absolutely had no idea what it might be.

Right by the fence line, I could see a medium sized reddish furry thing that looked to have a symmetrical outline almost like some strange aardvark, ant eater, sloth or something. Grabbing the binoculars definitely cleared my confusion as to the unidentifiable animal on premises. The very strange looking animal was actually two. It was an amorous pair of red foxes working out the production of future cubs for the spring. They were totally locked up in their efforts and it was pretty amusing watching their confusion at their situation with their attempts to travel hooked up but facing opposite directions. One would walk one direction with the other walking backwards and then this would reverse and they would try go the other way. The look on both of their faces made it apparent that they had both forgotten the earlier amorous feelings that got them into this problem and they each indicated it was over and they wanted to get on with their day. Canines sure have a weird way of doing things. These two finally worked their way out of my sight and I am assuming it all worked out and there will be a batch of new cubs in a few months. These two also must've really appreciated the purchased quail that we had been putting out over the months trying to get a covey established. Hors-d'oevres pour les renard.

My first guess for probable cause for the horses' distraction had been deer movement. They too are in their season amorous mode, running around with non of their regular shyness , fearing nothing, crossing open fields during the day light with oblivion, totally focused on just one mission. The big S word. Obviously these foxes' S morning activity and mission must have been what the horses and dogs were listening to earlier when I was feeding.

The wonderful part of my world out here in this animal kingdom, is that there is just no end to the continuing many surprises and I never know what in the world I am going to see on this farm. I have found that the animals don't lie very well and if they say their attention is on something, there is a pretty good chance there is something and I should keep my eyes and ears open. Openness to their visual and aural observations has revealed to me eagles, wild turkeys, ospreys, many deer, bobcats, the approach of strange cars and cows, and so many of the other creatures and pending situations that exist just beyond my normal awareness abilty to pick up on as early as they do. Their awareness of possible danger has also saved me a time or two from stepping on an unsuspecting snake laying in the grass. It is this wonderful play of observation and communication with the animals here that I love and feel deeply grateful for. I cannot imagine the hole in my spirit that I would feel if disconnected from all this and my animals, by having to live in the urban, concrete, sterile world that so many have to endure. I am, so lucky.

Cheers

After seeing the date of my last post and having heard from several of you folks who actually take time to read my stuff and have asked for more, I thought I might try to carve out a few minutes to babble. Since I started doing this blog I have found that, like many things in life, it takes a deliberate approach to find the time to do it. It is just frigging amazing how many distractions and time killers there are in a day, a life, for me. There are so many animals to feed and tend to, human, equine, canine, and whatever birds are, oh yes, avian. There are phone calls of little importance to answer, the solving of the various mini-crises that arise. There are all the multitudinous tiny things that make up living each day at a low level of creative output that frustrate me to no end.

Add all that with three weeks of nearly solid rain and mud to the now pressing holiday commitments, everything from present buying and wrapping, food buying and prep, and various visits to and from relatives and friends, throw in a funeral, a dog fight or two, a face plant on the hardwood floor trying to prevent a dog fight, resulting in a cut lip from hell, and the ongoing needs and hospitalizations of my aging parents.

It all means getting almost zero time for riding and training my horses, doing any biographical work on the life of my famous dress designer uncle Wilson, making any more leather bags, or any sewing, painting, welding, and now, writing blog entries. Stop this crazy ride, I want to get off.

I do remember very well as a young kid the mercurial sense of time. Time floated gently by and drifted around the pleasant distractions of the day. It was irrelevant to me whether it was 9 am or 4 pm. I woke up to no alarm, I ate breakfast and watched Captain Kangaroo on the TV, and then the rest of the day lasted indefinitely. There seemed to be a flow to it like a lazy river meandering and sliding its way along. There were moments, who knows the actual length, where making mud pancakes swept my imagination away. There was unknown length of time spent playing in between the sheets hanging to dry on the clothes line, watching the sunlight patterns shift like paint on canvases as the sun dried them. And time spent watching pill bugs crawl and then roll up into their safe secure little balls. I still wish I could do that. Making forts was an especially fun thing for me to get lost in. I used boxes when available, appliance ones being treasured, laundry baskets, blankets draped on chairs, and chairs themselves proved very handy for many similar projects.

All of this was time spent with absolutely no regard for the time being spent, or wasted. It came with no guilt about not getting something else more important done mainly because there were no expectations yet for getting anything done. Homework hadn't' entered my life yet, and all the other thousands of things that happen as you get older and have gaining responsibilities. It just was an endlessly soothing part of my life in the past.

So how to return even a bit to such a quiet and peaceful way. I don't know yet, but I will be thinking more about that as we get thru this bloody holiday season and look to the new year. Simplify and slow down and enjoy the moment, will be my attempted mantra.

Now I am off to the barn to feed the anxious equines. I will finish the wrapping and cooking, and try to get all of the stress out of my mood. I look forward to a Christmas day tasting of our newly made Bourbon soaked oak chips, Oatmeal Stout beer. Yum.

Not much philosophy on the horses today, nor news about Jackapotomus. Just some time spent on scribblings. But I am truly wishing every one a much slower and mellow, and appreciated Christmas season, and many more to come. Cheers.

Just when i thought it was safe...

It was time for one of these after my trip to the barn yesterday. I had been giving serious consideration to dropping next year's insurance for injury and mortality on all of my horses as I sealed the envelope on the final installment for 2009. Like so many years I had paid the premiums but just didn't have any claims. So...money being tight, I was thinking why bother.

This was still in my mind as I went out to do afternoon feeding. From the carport I could hear hooves galloping and I figured that Atlas, my young gelding, was doing a bit of pre-feeding time excess energy burn. When I walked around the corner, though and saw the real situation, it was an "oh crap" moment. There were three horses in the same pen, where there was only supposed to be one. I saw that the not turned on hot wire between Atlas and his huge mom, Robijn, and elderly very pregnant mare, Joline had been knocked down and run over.

There are very few things that worry me more than the putting horses together in the same field, even if they have already known each other across a fence. For some reason when you turn them loose together, they tend to just lose it for a while. I suppose it is the herd way of establishing the new social pecking order. In the wild they can do all this posturing and cavorting and have room to gallop away and sort this problem out without to much damage being done to each other. In the smaller paddock without the grace of room to move, those horses making the social errors can get their knees kicked off, get bit, or slip and ruin a nice set of legs with a tear or sprain. This scene here was all happening in a small space with very large,very fast animals on very slippery ground.

My first glance was to see Atlas sniffing towards the rear end of Robijn. Dumb. The definitive equine social faux pas. Sure enough, up came the rump and Robijn's two hind feet came flying backward in his general direction. She missed, but sent my heart rate even further up. Then off they all went full tilt, thundering down the field, mud splattering, hooves slipping and sliding. In my mind was the sight of the inevitable very large vet bill to come from this scene playing out.

I went to get halters for the mares, my first plan was to catch Robijn as she was the one creating the majority of the havoc, but, not to her plan. Then Atlas turned and came galloping full speed directly towards me. I figured I was to become one with the mud covered with his hoof prints. Just at my last moment of consciousness though, he slammed on brakes and put his head low for me to put the halter on, like he seriously wanted to get out of there and looked to me for rescue from the chaos.

After I got him out of the field and put in a stall, I fixed the fence, turned the juice back on to the hot wire, and got the mares back where they were supposed to go, every body began to settle down. Then as I was walking back from feeding Tony the pony I nearly tripped over a black thing that streaked by my feet. Following it came a very frantic Jack, the terrier, moving as fast as his short legs could comply, shrilly yelping at the top of his range. The other dogs vectored in from the barn and all gave chase to a poor cat who'd made a nearly tragic mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She made it up a tree in time but this further activity did give the horses one more excuse to lose it for a bit and it kept my heart rate up for another few minutes.

I did enjoy the solstice of the martini when I finally got back to the house. I decided too, that I will pay the insurance again, try to keep the hot wire on, and hope for more peaceful moments on the farm.

Stuck again...

It another soggy and cold one outside and in the immortal words of the great donkey Eyor, I am "stuck again". Another vacation day for the horses. It's amusing to see Facebook postings from my other horse friends all bemoaning their frustration of being inside with no way to remedy the situation. Trapped with major case of cabin fever. My guess is that riding, and training horses is like an addiction to a fix of some sort. There is just a part of me that has got to be in that moment with a horse where my focus is right there and no where else and to that end I must spend some time there on a very regular basis to keep sanity. I think it was Churchill who said that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. How true it is for me and apparently I am not alone in this bearing this illness.


I used to tell my kids that when mommy is riding do not bother her for any reason. None. Zero. Let the house burn, whatever could wait. It was my dedicated time and they, I think, understood that mommy was a nicer mommy after she had had the time to ride. Then one day as I am riding back towards the barn I can see that my daughter Emily is hanging upside down on the swing set or play house. This was odd and definitely not a normal position for her as she was not fond of any type of position or thing that involved fast movement, being swung, merry go rounds, being held upside down by her feet etc. Not a big fan of going to the fair to ride the rides or doing cart wheels. To see her doing this gave me a startle. So I rode the horse over to where she was and asked her what was she doing. Emily responded by telling me she was stuck in that position and being the almost ever obedient child that she was, she knew I would be angry and not have wanted for her to disturb me while I rode. I have no idea just how long she had been hanging or how long she would have stayed there had I not come along and gotten her feet loose and her standing back right side up. I did loosen the rules on mommy disruption from then but it still had better be an important reason to interrupt my meditation on horseback.


On an even earlier occasion in Emily's life of having to sit on a blanket and eat Cheerios while I rode, I once again started my daily ride on my then horse Jason. At some point later I did look up to an empty blanket and no Emily in sight. She was maybe 3yrs old at this time and the place where my horse was boarded was on a major road for very fast traveling big trucks carrying coal and limestone. Somehow I made a good guess as to where she had headed and jumped off the horse and ran down the driveway towards the gate by the road. Emily was there standing about 3 or 4 feet from the edge of the road with trucks roaring past her. This one scene of my life is permanently etched in my mind and it still gives me chills to think how close she was. I caught up with her and I can't remember what all I did say as I grabbed her and got her moving away from the dangerous trucks, but I do recall telling her she had better jump like a bunny rabbit all the way back to the blanket. This term of how to travel was a saying that my father used on me when I was a kid when he was very serious about my making quick tracks or changing what I was doing. So as I am still hyperventilating from fear and major adrenalin, I see that this cute little kid, who was very nearly a hwy 19 grease spot, is crying and now hopping, just like a bunny on her way back down the long driveway. It was extremely hard not to laugh at this point from the comic relief but I did manage to hold on because I really wanted her to remember this lesson. I guess she did.


With remaing hopes for a sunny day soon I think I will go do something productive like clean the stalls, maybe oil tack, groom Jack the dog of terror... ha. well maybe that's a fantasy for him, and try to lose some of this buzz to get on a horse and meditate.