Equestrian Questions

I found a list of "Equestrian Challenge Questions" on someone else's blog, and while I am on hiatus from the barn, I thought I would do them.  Some of the questions are geared toward English riders or riders who compete, but I'll adapt those ones to suit my style. There are 30 questions total, and the first one is...

When and Why you Started Riding

I started riding real horses when I was about seven years old.  Before that, I galloped down the dirt road by my house on Thunder.  Thunder also took me back into the woods, along a creek and across little wooden bridges. Thunder was usually a beautiful black horse, but sometimes he was other colors, too. He jumped twigs across our path like a champion, and could out run anything, except my sister.  She was four years older than me, so her horse was pretty fast. Whenever they passed us, I would pretend that Thunder and I were taking it easy, not that my shorter kid legs couldn't keep up with my sister's longer legs.

As I got a little older, my sister tried to convince me that my bike could be a horse, too.  I wasn't too excited about learning to ride a bike, but eventually I learned.  After that, I could pedal super fast and then coast with my eyes closed, feeling the wind rush past my face and pretending that Thunder was causing it. He was a good horse, until having an imaginary horse just wasn't good enough anymore.

Then I started taking riding lessons from a lady named Patti, who had a program called Horses for Hearts.  She did group lessons where she taught safety, grooming, and eventually, riding.  They were group lessons, but I only remember being there with a group for the first time we went.  That was the day I raised my hand to ask if we would be galloping that day.  I was seven.  Patti started to chuckle until she saw how serious I was.  I was worried about it but thought it would be exciting; I wanted to know if it was on the agenda.  She choked back a smile and told me no, no galloping today.

The horse I took lessons on was a Welsh Mountain pony aptly named Snowball.  Snowball was technically gray, but I would call her white.  Most of her coat was white, except for her black nose.  She was round and sweet, a perfect child's beginner pony.  As I learned more about steering and control, I was able to ride Pepper a few times, her slightly bigger Pony of the Americas.  My sister got to ride Reggie, and I was super jealous of her.  Reggie was a tall, elegant black Tennessee Walking horse.  I thought he was the most beautiful horse, and quietly pined to ride him.  He was for older kids though, and I never got the chance.

Me on Snowball, my sister on Reggie

When I was about nine, Patti had to sell her horses because her husband said that she was spending too much time with them and not enough time with him.  I don't remember ever meeting him, but I hated that he did that to her.  My nine year old self vowed that, if I ever got married, my husband would never do that to me.  My mom tried to explain to me about compromises, and that they had a son together so getting a divorce should be a last resort.  I just shook my head.  Horses were in my blood, I needed them in my life, and I knew if it came to a choice between my husband and my horses... well, I knew which way I was headed.

Before I married Justin, I had my horse conversation with him.  Patti's story stuck with me as such a tragedy, I couldn't get married without making sure that Justin would know exactly what he was signing up for.  I told him that I would be willing to make compromises, and work things out to the best of my ability, but the horses would stay. I told him that he could never tell me to get rid of them, and if he did, he probably wouldn't like my answer.  I was scared to have this conversation, but more scared of not having it and regretting not being more clear down the road. He told me he understood, he loved that I was so passionate about horses, and that he would always support me in having them.

I have loved horses since before I can remember. I read every horse book my elementary school library had, and even convinced the librarian to purchase more. I was a lucky girl that my parents were able to give me riding lessons starting at such a young age, and I am a lucky woman to still have a horse in my life.  His name isn't Thunder anymore, but he's beautiful, black and best of all- real.

The Fear Place

I think we have all been there.  You took a new route, did the wrong thing at the wrong time, had something completely accidental happen.  Sometimes you luck out, and nothing bad comes of it even when it should have. Other times, you get hurt, perhaps even end up in the hospital.  Life can be like that, but with horses, the chances of getting injured go way up.

People handle these things in different ways.  Some are able to get up and go on like nothing ever happened.  Others are devastated, so traumatized that they give up riding for life.  Of course, there is every nuance of feeling between those two extremes, and most people land in the middle.

I had a bad fall while cantering that still causes me back pain now and again.  It has been over 6 years, and I am 90% over it.  I still get a little clutch in my belly before asking for it for the first time in any particular ride, but then it smooths out and I'm okay.

My mom's bad fall is something she is still working through, and it's what I wanted to highlight today.  I happened to be there for her fall, and have been helping her work through it since.  I had to dig my way out of my own worm hole, too afraid and ashamed to admit my fears or to know how to ask for help.  Now that I am on the other side, it is gratifying to reach out and offer empathy, support, and guidance.

Mom and Lady (ironic name) were going down a hill behind Rocky and I.  We were close to the barn, coming back from a very short trail ride. My mom is new to horses and to Lady in particular.  When Lady began to trot down the hill, it scared my mom so she attempted to pull her to a stop.  Lady was a dominant personality mare that my mom was learning to handle, but she hadn't been able to really gain Lady's respect.  Instead of stopping, Lady swerved to the side of the trail.  By this time, I had heard the hoof beats behind me speed up, so I had turned around in the saddle to make sure they were okay.

I saw Lady tuck her nose a bit, then kick out with both hind legs three times in a row.  By the third kick she had effectively bounced my mom out of the saddle.  She fell hard on her back and right side.  I was off Rocky and next to my mom as fast as I could be, where she gasped for breath.  Remembering what it felt like to get the wind knocked out of me, to try to stand up while hard fists were closed around my lungs was scary by myself.  I coached my mom to take slow, shallow breaths rather than claw for a big filling one.   I told her to stop trying to get up and just focus on getting air.

She listened, staying on her knees with her hands on the ground in front of her, trying not to cry and moan in pain while getting the necessary oxygen.  After what seemed like forever, but was probably 30 seconds or so, I could hear her breathing even out.  She was still half panting from pain but it was no longer as panicky.   I grabbed Lady then, and helped her slowly stand up.

We traded horses for the short walk back to the barn.  I didn't know if Lady would try to rush or push her way back, but I knew Rocky would be gentle.

I ended up taking my mom to the hospital, where they admitted her for two days.  It was one of the scariest drives of my life; I wanted to go fast to get there quickly, but take turns and stop carefully.   She had severely bruised her kidneys and they were worried she may have internal bleeding.   She was released after two days with painkillers and no internal damage other than bruising.

Since then, she has purchased a new horse named Tapper and gained new horsemanship abilities.  She is still learning, as all of us are, but has come a long way.

A few days ago, we had completed a decent trail ride with no mishaps.  Tapper started to trot down the same hill Lady had over a year before, and my mom panicked.  It brought back all of her memories of her fall and even though he stopped when he caught up to Rocky and I, only 15 feet ahead of them, the fear had taken over my mom.

To Be Continued...

Trail Ride

My mom, Mindy, is relatively new to being a rider and owner of a horse.  She always wanted a horse growing up, but was told she couldn't have one.  Now as an adult, she has taken the opportunity to purchase her own horse.  Her first horse ended up being a bad match which concluded with my mom in the hospital for two days. The horse (ironically named "Lady") bucked my mom off at the bottom of a hill on a short trail ride.  My mom had tried to flex her into a circle after Lady started trotting down the hill, and Lady decided it would be better to just offload my mom.  Lady is now with a more experienced family who adores her.   That whole debacle convinced my mom that she wants a calmer, more steady horse rather than one with attitude.  She also has been drooling over Norwegian Fjords for several years.

She now owns Tapper, a 6 year old Norwegian Fjord gelding. She boards him with Rocky, and they are friends in the same pasture.  Mindy takes riding lessons from our barn owner/manager, and listens to my advice as well.

Her goal is to trail ride, and someday train Tapper to pull a cart.  She has some fear issues due to the incident with Lady but has been much better about taking more regular lessons.  Tapper is a sweetheart, and his biggest issue at this point is that he can be pretty clumsy.  I think he's still growing into his large feet!

With all of that background, two days ago I went on a trail ride with my mom.  Rocky has been doing super well (I still have to write about a trail ride I did almost a month ago now...it's coming...) so I figured he'd be a good, steady trail horse for me while I watched over my mom.

We started out and it was really hot that day, close to 80 degrees plus some humidity thrown in for fun.  My mom said that she wanted to do the loop of the trail by the barn that we have already done before, and I was a bit disappointed.  The day before my BO and I went for a trail ride to the neighbor's trails, which were beautiful and a nice change of pace for me.

I agreed to do the smaller loop, and we were most of the way through when I stopped to chat with my mom for a bit.  I talked to her about her desire to go on day trip trail rides with Tapper, and how I want her to be confident doing trail rides at the barn before going on a ride in a new location.  She acknowledged my concerns and told me that her plan is to ride Tapper as much as possible this summer, getting more miles under their feet.

I offered to take her to the neighbor's trails again, as Tapper was doing well that day and so was Rocky.  She thought about it for a minute, and then decided to go for it.  She said, "I need to go by what Tapper is showing me, and he's fine. I'm the one that's worried."

We got over to the neighbor's trails, and talked about how pretty they are with their wide, grassy riding lanes and tall trees.   We rode down a gravel road to the back of the neighbor's property, then took a left past their burn pile.  Here, I stopped to watch my mom's face as we turned the corner to a long, beautiful stretch of trail.  It was grassy with a lot of pines on one side, and other deciduous trees on the other.  Her eyes lit up and she laughed in delight when she saw it, exclaiming, "Wow! This is gorgeous!"

I felt happy that I could be there with her when she got to enjoy her longest trail ride to date, and that it could go so well.  We even trotted together down that long, grassy lane, the dogs loping along beside us with grins on their faces.

Honey

This is Honey.  She was my first horse, and I got her when I was about to turn 13. This picture shows off her summer coat pretty well- a pretty (honey) toned palomino.  Her winter coat was a bit different...

See? Her coat got lighter and dappled. She was a friendly, personable horse who liked oranges and playing in rivers.  She could be bossy and a dressage clinician once dubbed her a "baby sitter" horse. I think the clinician meant it as a bad thing but it worked for us. I didn't know a lot when I got her, so for a while she was taking care of me.  As I got older and more experienced, I was able to take over a bit.  She liked to be in control but as I figured out how to be the boss, her moments of testing me got fewer and further between.  Honey was never mean, never tried to hurt me, she only wanted to know where she was in the hierarchy.

I had two of my cousins ride her bareback once, the older one in front of the younger one.  They were probably 12 and 10 years old, and I lunged them around me while Honey had only a halter and lead rope on.  I asked her to trot with them, and she gave them the smoothest trot I had ever seen out of her.  They were able to sit it without difficulty or any real horse experience.  This was one of those times that, looking back, was a bad decision on my part but Honey made it work.  My cousins didn't fully appreciate her efforts to keep them safe, but I did. 

When I rode her for the first time, her trot was bouncy and fast.  She was nervous but doing as I had asked. It took a while for her to settle down and smooth out after I got her. 

I remember the first time we were able to canter a figure 8. We took up the whole arena but I felt so accomplished. This was a few years after I had a confidence shattering fall from her, and it had taken me over a year to begin feeling comfortable cantering again. 

I think about her still, sometimes when I am working with Rocky and think "I already taught Honey this" or "I wish I could have known how to do this when I had her." She pops up in my head fairly frequently, despite the fact that it's been 3 years since she died. In January I get sad and depressed for a while, and I don't know why until I remember that January is the month she was sick, the month I had a chance to save her and  it wasn't enough.  She died February 8.   So far, in the Januarys since her death, I take a few hours to pull out the scrapbook I made about Honey, and weep. And remember.

Yesterday she would have turned 15. Somehow, I want her to know that I'm still thinking about her, I miss her and love her. 

Happy Birthday, Honey.