by Laura Crum
Joy said something in a comment on my post titled “Gratitude” that got me thinking. I hope I’m not misquoting you terribly, Joy, but it was along the lines of the idea that a horse that you’ve owned awhile will inevitably begin to reflect your own issues, and thus give you an opportunity to work on them. This thought interested me a lot, and I began mulling it over in regards to my horse, Sunny.
I’ve written a lot about Sunny on this blog, and in my latest book, “Going, Gone”, so many of you probably have an idea what this horse is like. But, to summarize, I bought Sunny a little over two years ago because he is a very reliable trail horse, and I wanted such a horse to give my young son a steady lead on the trails. I did not think of Sunny as a horse I was buying for myself when I bought him. I thought of him as a family horse, one my husband, and perhaps my son, could eventually ride.
Well, my husband obliged me by riding the horse twice, and then pointed out to me that he had never wanted a horse and preferred to walk. I, on the other hand, began using Sunny regularly, as my little boy and I were both very interested in trail riding, and Sunny was far better for this than my usual riding horse, Plumber. And virtually the first thing Sunny did was pick a fight with me.
I order to understand this in context, you need to know that I had known Sunny, in a roundabout way, for two or three years. I “knew” him as a gentle, bombproof horse that anyone could ride, and who had been reliable on a lot of trail rides. But I hadn’t been around him that much. Imagine my surprise when the “gentle” horse turned his butt to me when I went to catch him and popped his back feet in my direction, threatening to kick me. He didn’t get anywhere near me, you understand, but the gesture was plain.
OK. I beat his little butt up and caught him and that night I called the previous owner and said that I would have to return the horse if he kicked (we had an agreement that I could return the horse any time within the first thirty days). I told her that I was buying him as a gentle family horse and that kicking was not OK. No horse that I have would ever theaten to kick me. I was concerned for my son’s safety…etc.
We had a long discussion about Sunny’s kicking behavior. The upshot of it was that Sunny had never once hurt anyone. He did offer this behavior from time to time, usually with a new rider, and he had only connected once, and never left even a mark that time. Based on this info, I kept Sunny and decided I could deal with his little issue.
This issue turned out to be much more “global” than occasionally threatening to kick. Sunny would also threaten to bite while being cinched, attempt to step on your foot when being saddled, move into your space on the leadline, and balk and crowhop in an attempt to thwart his rider while being ridden. In none of these gestures was Sunny particularly serious—he was just testing. In essence, he was picking a fight to see who would be boss.
At this point you may be wondering what in the world I saw in the horse, and the answer is that I sometimes wondered myself. Sunny was also somewhat rough gaited and not terribly well-broke. But he was a great trail horse. His little “pissant” attitude translated into a calm, cold-blooded, level-headed confidence on the trail. He wasn’t bothered by much of anything. He’d seen it all—from wild animals, to traffic, to mud, to surf, to switchbacks and sidehills, and none of it bothered him. He was a willing trail horse for the most part, able to tackle anything; he gave my son’s horse an absolutely steady lead, and he allowed me to relax and keep my attention on my kid. Such horses are not easy to find. Thus I put up with his quirks, though to begin with I bemoaned them.
Why, I would ask, does this stupid little horse have to keep trying this crap? Because he did keep trying it. No matter how often I kicked his butt—and I always won, Sunny was really no challenge for any halfway experienced horseman—Sunny persistantly tried his dominance games again and again. He seemed to like being defeated. At first I found it annoying. After awhile I got curious.
My curiousity really got piqued when I (briefly) turned Sunny in with my son’s horse, Henry. Sunny’s owner had reported that she kept Sunny turned in with other horses and he was always “low man”. And, at first, it seemed to work out fine. Henry was easily dominant—end of story.
Except that Sunny wouldn’t let it be. Every day or so, he’d mount a sneak attack on Henry and try to kick him or bite him when Henry wasn’t paying attention. Henry, rightfully aggrieved at such insubordinate behavior, would lambast Sunny, and Sunny would retreat, defeated. But he always tried it again. I got tired of all the bite and kick marks on Sunny’s shiny gold hide and I worried he would get hurt. So I kept the horses separate after that. But the message was plain. This was Sunny’s behavior pattern with horses and people.
I began to wonder what it meant, what Sunny really wanted. The horse was always very interested in me; he followed me around the barnyard far more than the other horses did. He nickered when he saw me. He gave every sign of enjoying our new partnership. And he continued his dominance games. For the first time it struck me that Sunny wanted me to “beat him up”, that he was happier after I did this, that it made him feel secure. He picked fights on purpose so that I could continually reestablish my alpha horse position—just as he had with Henry.
I tested this theory once in awhile. Some days I’d get Sunny out and feel him crowd me just a tad as I led him through the gate, and even though he hadn’t done much of anything, I’d work him over a little with the leadrope and back him off the top of me. Sunny would make submissive mouthing motions and be good the rest of the day. I had satisfied his need.
Well, this was Ok as far as it went—I somewhat understood my horse, but it still left me just a tad bit aggrieved. I wasn’t sure I wanted a horse I had to beat up all the time. However, Sunny did what I needed him to do, and I became more and more fond of him, and just accepted my role. And Sunny’s dominance testing became more and more minor and token—very symbolic—he no longer offered to kick or bite, he allowed me to worm him without much fuss (compared to twenty minutes of sillieness when I first got him)..etc. All was well. And then I read Joy’s comment, and a whole new idea hit me.
I can be a fairly confrontational person. I don’t hang out with other people a lot, and when I do, I try to be very respectful of their space and their right to their own ideas. But God forbid anyone should not be respectful of me and my space. I am nobody’s yes man or doormat. The minute I feel I’m being condecended to, or manipulated, or in any way infringed on, or when I see someone trying this sort of thing on an animal or a kid, the you know what really hits the fan. Because I am not likely to be subtle in my response. I will either walk away and be done with that person or situation, or I will let them know, very directly, how I feel about said situation. As Mrs Mom said to me once, I’m a “shoot from the hip” type of person. I thought it was a very accurate comment. And after reading Joy’s comment, I wonder if Sunny didn’t come to me as a way to work on this part of my personality.
Sunny seems to need me to confront him and set boundries. As fond as I am of him, I am still required to set him straight on a regular basis. Maybe I should regard this as an opportunity rather than a burden? This is kind of a new thought for me, but it does resonate. So I thought I’d ask you all—have you experienced this sort of thing with your horses? Do you feel that you somehow get the "horse you need" rather than exactly the horse you want? What’s your take on it?
Showing posts with label Gone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gone. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Just Climb On...
by Laura Crum
The other day I heard a woman I know talk about working her horse “around” before she got on him. She meant working him on foot in a round pen. Now this wasn’t a colt with thirty days on him that she was talking about. It was a seven year old horse that she’d owned for four years. He’d never none anything particularly threatening. Yet it was her habit to work him “around” before she rode him…pretty much every ride.
I thought this odd. Then the fact that I thought it odd got me thinking about why I think the way I do. OK, that’s a convoluted sentence, but I’m sure you get my point. Once a horse is past the very green stage (like 90 days of riding or less) I was never in the habit of working the horse on foot (whether in a round pen or on a lunge line) before I got on him. Despite the fact that I’m old and stout and cautious, I still don’t do this. Whether I’m riding middle-aged Sunny, five year old Smoky, or my son’s twenty-one year old babysitter, Henry, I saddle the horse up and get on. I don’t dink around on foot first.
To clarify this—I don’t throw the saddle on, jerk the cinch tight, and step up. I tighten the cinch in three steps and I walk the horse a few feet between each “tightening”. If the horse showed signs he was going to have a conniption fit, I would rethink the climbing on part. I still wouldn’t work him on foot—I’d probably tie him up and let him “soak” with the saddle on for a few hours. If he still didn’t seem flat, I might repeat that procedure for a few days before I rode him. But I wouldn’t be inclined to work him on foot.
I don’t consider myself particularly brave. I don’t think I’m completely foolhardy, either. If I were to describe myself, I might even say that I’m a big chicken these days. But I still just saddle my horses and climb on, though I no longer choose to climb on anything too green.
I am constantly surprised by the number of people who don’t do this. When I bought my horse, Sunny, the former owner went on and on about how the horse did not know how to lunge when she got him, and, of course, she lunged all her horses to warm them up before she rode them. I shrugged. In two years of pretty steady trail riding, I have never done anything but saddle Sunny and climb on when I’m ready. I don’t know why in the world anybody would bother to lunge this horse first.
Back when I was riding a lot of horses, whenever I got a broke horse that was new to me, I saddled them and climbed on and rode them. Again, if I thought the horse looked snorty, I might rethink the climbing on part. I rode trading horses and rope horses for years. I must have climbed on several hundred horses I didn’t know. Not one of them did I “work around” first. Sunny is the last horse I bought. I had reason to believe he was broke. The first day I had him home to try, I saddled him, climbed on, and took him for a trail ride. My concession to the unknown was to take a friend with me.
If I was breaking a colt I would take it to the round pen, while I taught that colt to carry the saddle and respond to my signals. Lots and lots has been written about the many different ways people accomplish this, and I think anything I would say about how I did it has already been said (better) by someone else. But even when I was breaking young horses, it didn’t take me very long to get them to the point where I saddled them and climbed on without working them on foot first (by thirty days, almost every time). Maybe I climbed on in the round pen, if I was nervous, but I didn’t work them from the ground much once they knew how to carry me. To address a specific problem, sometimes. If I really thought they were going to dump me, sure.
So why is this? Well, its partly because I was raised in the horse biz by a bunch of ropers, and they would all have disdained to dink around with a broke horse, or even a reasonably gentle green broke horse, before they climbed on him. It just ain’t the cowboy way.
And its partly because I’m lazy. Its easier to step aboard than to do all that fussing around on foot.
But there is another reason or two.
First off, horses know when you’re scared of them. Honest—they do. (I put quite a bit about this in my book, “Hayburner”, in which my protagonist breaks a colt.) If you’re fussing around on the ground cause you’re scared to get on, the horse knows. Its not a positive scenario. Thus, even if I am a little nervous, I act like I’m not. (I guess I think I can fool them.) I don’t spend a lot of time dinking around. I saddle the horse and get on.
Once I climb on, I just relax with the horse. I’ll walk a horse until he’s loose, if he’s relaxed enough to walk. Back when I was riding colts, a lot of them needed to move, so I’d let them trot, or lope(if they felt flat), until that urge to move subsided. It’s the equivalent of “working them around” or lunging them, except I’m on their back. I’m not asking much of them, just letting them get the kinks out. So, what’s better about being on their back, you ask?
Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just really dumb. I’d sure be a lot safer on the ground, huh? However, I can’t think of a single time when a horse has dumped me during this warm up period, so I guess its worked OK so far. And, to quote a well known cutting horse trainer that I once worked for “If you dink around you make a dink.” This guy was very big on “just climb on em and go—don’t fuss with them,” and I absorbed a lot of his thinking.
Again, if I really thought a horse was liable to buck hard or bolt or dump me in some way (and by this I mean I knew the horse had done this before), I would probably take them to the round pen and work them on foot first. That or refuse to ride them. Nowadays (and for the past twelve years) I’d definitely refuse to ride them. But any horse that had never shown any big signs of wanting to unload people, it was always climb on and go.
The second reason I just climb on is because I think we can train a horse to accept our method, and I don’t see any point in training a horse to expect all this dinking around on foot that’s inconvenient for me. Once a horse thinks he gets to fart around on the lungeline or in the round pen before you ride him, why then he feels entitled to act up if you don’t work him on foot first. I don’t want him having that expectation, so I don’t create it.
I still remember when I got my son’s pony, Toby. This was a gentle, older pony, big enough for me to ride. The first time I lunged him (I intended to give my son riding experience on the lungeline) Toby acted like an idiot. My impulse was to set his little pony butt straight, but, just to be sure, I called the former owner and asked her if she ever lunged this pony.
Well, turns out she lunged him all the time. As, you guessed it, a prelude to riding, to “get his ya-yas out”. Toby figured lunging was when he got to act up.
I couldn’t believe it. This was a gentle pony. There is no way I ever bothered to lunge him before I got on him, and once my son learned to ride, I never lunged Toby before my son got on him either. In one short session (Toby was a smart little guy) I taught that pony that he had to mind his p’s and q’s on the lungeline, too. End of problem.
So what if your gentle, broke horse is “full of suds” some cool spring morning? Do you lunge him first? I know a lot of people think this is the thing to do. And certainly, Plumber, who I rode for many years, could be pretty silly when he was fresh. He didn’t buck or come unbroke, but he’d hop and bounce around, skittering, and even squealing a little. You couldn’t even really call it crowhopping, but he was pretty lively. And no, I never lunged him or “worked him around”. Even when I was riding with my three year old in front of me, I just climbed on. This may sound dumb, I guess, but I knew Plumber. I’d broke and trained him myself and I knew just what he would do or wouldn’t do. My little boy, too young to be scared, would giggle and laugh when Plumber “scooted” around. And then we’d lope a few laps and he’d be over it. I think this is the way to treat a broke horse. You don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it really is, or the horse will start to think it’s a big deal. And the whole thing escalates.
I find this hard to put into words, but by trusting a horse you allow him to become trustworthy. A horse cannot become “trustworthy” if you don’t trust him. Again, I’m not talking about a colt or a problem horse you are trying to retrain. I’m talking about treating a broke horse like he’s broke. Rather than treating him like some half-broke colt you don’t trust not to throw you.
What about a cold backed horse you say? My steady mount for many, many years was Flanigan, who I loved dearly. Flanigan was definitely a “cold-backed” horse. Meaning he was majorly cinchy. Every single time I saddled Flanigan, he had a big hump in his back. Flanigan bucked a number of people off when they tried to rope on him without warming him up properly first. My concession to this was to tighten the cinch very gently in stages, walking the horse between each stage, until his back flattened out. Took about three minutes. Then I climbed on him. He would usually walk with a hump in his back for awhile, felt like he was tip toeing around. I walked him until he flattened out. And I always gave him a long careful warm up before I roped on him, being sure to “break him out” (gallop him flat out) a few times before I backed in the box. Flanigan did buck with me once in awhile, but he never bucked me off. A better horse never lived. And I never once “worked him around” or lunged him before I got on him. He would have been insulted at the thought of it.
This brings me to my last point. Broke horses, horses who know their job, don’t like being dinked around with. They don’t like being retrained. They don’t care for having the snaffle put on them and being treated like they’re ignorant colts. They don’t like being worked in a round pen by some know it all who thinks he/she is going to “fix” their problems. I’ve seen this many times. Broke horses want and expect their rider to be competent and to respect the horse’s competence. They want their rider to climb on and go do something that makes sense to the horse. I have many times seen a good solid rope horse go dramatically backward in the hands of someone who began “retraining”, starting over with the round pen and the snaffle…etc. The “trainer’s” intentions are good; he/she is going to fix something they think is “wrong” with the horse, but it doesn’t usually work out well. In my experience, its better to meet a broke horse in the middle, let him do his job and concentrate on doing yours. If it isn’t workable like that, usually this isn’t the right horse for you and you’d do better to pass him on and try another one than try to retrain him.
OK. There’s my two cents worth, as my grandmother used to say. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Feel free to tell me how dumb I am not to work my horses before I get on them, and explain to me the finer points of this and why it works for you. Tell me why it’s a good idea to put that old broke horse in the snaffle and retrain him. I’m not too old to learn something (I hope).
Don’t forget about the book review offer for my new book, “Going, Gone”. Email Susan Daniel at susan@danielpublishing.com and request your copy. You will need to send her your snail mail address, your blog address, and your agreement to review the book on your blog and email Susan a copy of the review. Review copies will be sent out on March 1st, approximately, which is also the deadline for this offer. I’m looking forward to reading your reviews.
Cheers--Laura
The other day I heard a woman I know talk about working her horse “around” before she got on him. She meant working him on foot in a round pen. Now this wasn’t a colt with thirty days on him that she was talking about. It was a seven year old horse that she’d owned for four years. He’d never none anything particularly threatening. Yet it was her habit to work him “around” before she rode him…pretty much every ride.
I thought this odd. Then the fact that I thought it odd got me thinking about why I think the way I do. OK, that’s a convoluted sentence, but I’m sure you get my point. Once a horse is past the very green stage (like 90 days of riding or less) I was never in the habit of working the horse on foot (whether in a round pen or on a lunge line) before I got on him. Despite the fact that I’m old and stout and cautious, I still don’t do this. Whether I’m riding middle-aged Sunny, five year old Smoky, or my son’s twenty-one year old babysitter, Henry, I saddle the horse up and get on. I don’t dink around on foot first.
To clarify this—I don’t throw the saddle on, jerk the cinch tight, and step up. I tighten the cinch in three steps and I walk the horse a few feet between each “tightening”. If the horse showed signs he was going to have a conniption fit, I would rethink the climbing on part. I still wouldn’t work him on foot—I’d probably tie him up and let him “soak” with the saddle on for a few hours. If he still didn’t seem flat, I might repeat that procedure for a few days before I rode him. But I wouldn’t be inclined to work him on foot.
I don’t consider myself particularly brave. I don’t think I’m completely foolhardy, either. If I were to describe myself, I might even say that I’m a big chicken these days. But I still just saddle my horses and climb on, though I no longer choose to climb on anything too green.
I am constantly surprised by the number of people who don’t do this. When I bought my horse, Sunny, the former owner went on and on about how the horse did not know how to lunge when she got him, and, of course, she lunged all her horses to warm them up before she rode them. I shrugged. In two years of pretty steady trail riding, I have never done anything but saddle Sunny and climb on when I’m ready. I don’t know why in the world anybody would bother to lunge this horse first.
Back when I was riding a lot of horses, whenever I got a broke horse that was new to me, I saddled them and climbed on and rode them. Again, if I thought the horse looked snorty, I might rethink the climbing on part. I rode trading horses and rope horses for years. I must have climbed on several hundred horses I didn’t know. Not one of them did I “work around” first. Sunny is the last horse I bought. I had reason to believe he was broke. The first day I had him home to try, I saddled him, climbed on, and took him for a trail ride. My concession to the unknown was to take a friend with me.
If I was breaking a colt I would take it to the round pen, while I taught that colt to carry the saddle and respond to my signals. Lots and lots has been written about the many different ways people accomplish this, and I think anything I would say about how I did it has already been said (better) by someone else. But even when I was breaking young horses, it didn’t take me very long to get them to the point where I saddled them and climbed on without working them on foot first (by thirty days, almost every time). Maybe I climbed on in the round pen, if I was nervous, but I didn’t work them from the ground much once they knew how to carry me. To address a specific problem, sometimes. If I really thought they were going to dump me, sure.
So why is this? Well, its partly because I was raised in the horse biz by a bunch of ropers, and they would all have disdained to dink around with a broke horse, or even a reasonably gentle green broke horse, before they climbed on him. It just ain’t the cowboy way.
And its partly because I’m lazy. Its easier to step aboard than to do all that fussing around on foot.
But there is another reason or two.
First off, horses know when you’re scared of them. Honest—they do. (I put quite a bit about this in my book, “Hayburner”, in which my protagonist breaks a colt.) If you’re fussing around on the ground cause you’re scared to get on, the horse knows. Its not a positive scenario. Thus, even if I am a little nervous, I act like I’m not. (I guess I think I can fool them.) I don’t spend a lot of time dinking around. I saddle the horse and get on.
Once I climb on, I just relax with the horse. I’ll walk a horse until he’s loose, if he’s relaxed enough to walk. Back when I was riding colts, a lot of them needed to move, so I’d let them trot, or lope(if they felt flat), until that urge to move subsided. It’s the equivalent of “working them around” or lunging them, except I’m on their back. I’m not asking much of them, just letting them get the kinks out. So, what’s better about being on their back, you ask?
Actually, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m just really dumb. I’d sure be a lot safer on the ground, huh? However, I can’t think of a single time when a horse has dumped me during this warm up period, so I guess its worked OK so far. And, to quote a well known cutting horse trainer that I once worked for “If you dink around you make a dink.” This guy was very big on “just climb on em and go—don’t fuss with them,” and I absorbed a lot of his thinking.
Again, if I really thought a horse was liable to buck hard or bolt or dump me in some way (and by this I mean I knew the horse had done this before), I would probably take them to the round pen and work them on foot first. That or refuse to ride them. Nowadays (and for the past twelve years) I’d definitely refuse to ride them. But any horse that had never shown any big signs of wanting to unload people, it was always climb on and go.
The second reason I just climb on is because I think we can train a horse to accept our method, and I don’t see any point in training a horse to expect all this dinking around on foot that’s inconvenient for me. Once a horse thinks he gets to fart around on the lungeline or in the round pen before you ride him, why then he feels entitled to act up if you don’t work him on foot first. I don’t want him having that expectation, so I don’t create it.
I still remember when I got my son’s pony, Toby. This was a gentle, older pony, big enough for me to ride. The first time I lunged him (I intended to give my son riding experience on the lungeline) Toby acted like an idiot. My impulse was to set his little pony butt straight, but, just to be sure, I called the former owner and asked her if she ever lunged this pony.
Well, turns out she lunged him all the time. As, you guessed it, a prelude to riding, to “get his ya-yas out”. Toby figured lunging was when he got to act up.
I couldn’t believe it. This was a gentle pony. There is no way I ever bothered to lunge him before I got on him, and once my son learned to ride, I never lunged Toby before my son got on him either. In one short session (Toby was a smart little guy) I taught that pony that he had to mind his p’s and q’s on the lungeline, too. End of problem.
So what if your gentle, broke horse is “full of suds” some cool spring morning? Do you lunge him first? I know a lot of people think this is the thing to do. And certainly, Plumber, who I rode for many years, could be pretty silly when he was fresh. He didn’t buck or come unbroke, but he’d hop and bounce around, skittering, and even squealing a little. You couldn’t even really call it crowhopping, but he was pretty lively. And no, I never lunged him or “worked him around”. Even when I was riding with my three year old in front of me, I just climbed on. This may sound dumb, I guess, but I knew Plumber. I’d broke and trained him myself and I knew just what he would do or wouldn’t do. My little boy, too young to be scared, would giggle and laugh when Plumber “scooted” around. And then we’d lope a few laps and he’d be over it. I think this is the way to treat a broke horse. You don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it really is, or the horse will start to think it’s a big deal. And the whole thing escalates.
I find this hard to put into words, but by trusting a horse you allow him to become trustworthy. A horse cannot become “trustworthy” if you don’t trust him. Again, I’m not talking about a colt or a problem horse you are trying to retrain. I’m talking about treating a broke horse like he’s broke. Rather than treating him like some half-broke colt you don’t trust not to throw you.
What about a cold backed horse you say? My steady mount for many, many years was Flanigan, who I loved dearly. Flanigan was definitely a “cold-backed” horse. Meaning he was majorly cinchy. Every single time I saddled Flanigan, he had a big hump in his back. Flanigan bucked a number of people off when they tried to rope on him without warming him up properly first. My concession to this was to tighten the cinch very gently in stages, walking the horse between each stage, until his back flattened out. Took about three minutes. Then I climbed on him. He would usually walk with a hump in his back for awhile, felt like he was tip toeing around. I walked him until he flattened out. And I always gave him a long careful warm up before I roped on him, being sure to “break him out” (gallop him flat out) a few times before I backed in the box. Flanigan did buck with me once in awhile, but he never bucked me off. A better horse never lived. And I never once “worked him around” or lunged him before I got on him. He would have been insulted at the thought of it.
This brings me to my last point. Broke horses, horses who know their job, don’t like being dinked around with. They don’t like being retrained. They don’t care for having the snaffle put on them and being treated like they’re ignorant colts. They don’t like being worked in a round pen by some know it all who thinks he/she is going to “fix” their problems. I’ve seen this many times. Broke horses want and expect their rider to be competent and to respect the horse’s competence. They want their rider to climb on and go do something that makes sense to the horse. I have many times seen a good solid rope horse go dramatically backward in the hands of someone who began “retraining”, starting over with the round pen and the snaffle…etc. The “trainer’s” intentions are good; he/she is going to fix something they think is “wrong” with the horse, but it doesn’t usually work out well. In my experience, its better to meet a broke horse in the middle, let him do his job and concentrate on doing yours. If it isn’t workable like that, usually this isn’t the right horse for you and you’d do better to pass him on and try another one than try to retrain him.
OK. There’s my two cents worth, as my grandmother used to say. I would love to hear your thoughts on this. Feel free to tell me how dumb I am not to work my horses before I get on them, and explain to me the finer points of this and why it works for you. Tell me why it’s a good idea to put that old broke horse in the snaffle and retrain him. I’m not too old to learn something (I hope).
Don’t forget about the book review offer for my new book, “Going, Gone”. Email Susan Daniel at susan@danielpublishing.com and request your copy. You will need to send her your snail mail address, your blog address, and your agreement to review the book on your blog and email Susan a copy of the review. Review copies will be sent out on March 1st, approximately, which is also the deadline for this offer. I’m looking forward to reading your reviews.
Cheers--Laura
Monday, February 1, 2010
Get a Free Book
by Laura Crum
That’s right. All you bloggers out there with an active horse blog (by which I mean you update it regularly) can request a free review copy of my new book, “Going, Gone.” Email my publisher (Susan Daniels) at susan@danielpublishing.com and give your blog address, snail mail address, and agreement to post a review of the book on your blog and email Susan a copy of said review when you put it up. The review copies will be mailed out on March 1st (approximately), which is also the deadline for this offer. So get your request in now.
The first review of “Going, Gone” has just come in, and here it is:
Fans of Laura Crum's marvelous series of "equine" mysteries featuring veterinarian Gail McCarthy will certainly remember Lonny Peterson, the guy Gail looked certain to marry during the early years of her literary adventures. So, you can imagine how she'd feel to pay Lonny a visit while on vacation with her husband and child only to discover he's charged with murder.
Naturally, Gail immediately concludes Lonny's innocent and is being framed for the killing of his most recent girl friend and her brother. Will she have time on her vacation to catch the real murderer and help her former lover clear his name? Well, of course she will! But author Crum makes it a most suspenseful and intriguing process, so there's nothing "ho-hum" about this mystery adventure.
I'm an unabashed fan of Laura Crum's mysteries. One obvious reason is that Crum lives in and writes about my home territory--Santa Cruz County, California--where both of us were born and raised. But before I ever came to know Laura, I was a big fan of Dick Francis, his mysteries about horses and the people who deal in them. Though Francis is still writing mysteries with the help of his son, I believe Laura Crum is now doing better "equine" mysteries and should be the heir to Francis' literary domain.
Laura has now written 11 mysteries featuring Gail McCarthy. It has been fun to grow along with Laura and her alter-ego. Gail is now settled into her marriage to husband Blue and raising her little boy, Mac. She's putting on a little weight, but she's certainly not slowing down any--as you will discover in the thrilling climax of "Going, Gone," in which Gail has to ride for her life as the real murderer comes after her bent on putting her out of business forever.
The title comes from the world of horse auctions, which Crum gives us a good taste of while laying out the structure of her mystery plot. The people Lonny is accused of killing were in the auction business and the clues to the real killer are rooted in that world, which Gail has to explore on her own without much help from law enforcement.
This is a fast-moving mystery thriller that you won't want to put down once you're into it. It won't be officially published until April 5, but you can order it now on Amazon.com and the other online book retailers. It's published by Perseverance Press, an imprint of John Daniel & Co., in the larger format trade paperback edition with the slick cover. List price is $14.95, but you will be able to get it for less online.
Perseverance Press has rounded up quite a few of the better series mystery writers who lost their publishers in the recent market reshuffling by the big publishers. It also carries the mysteries of Lora Roberts, Carolyn Wheat, Jeanne M. Dams, Hal Glatzer and several more. These are clean, handsome volumes that will look fine in your mystery library.
They've kept the Gail McCarthy series alive and well, which has made me more than happy to do business with them.
©2010 by Ron Miller.
Ron Miller is a former nationally syndicated television columnist and the author of "Mystery! A Celebration," the official companion book to PBS' "Mystery!" series. He most recently was the television columnist for MYSTERY SCENE magazine.
Perseverance Press/John Daniel & Co.
http://www.danielpublishing.com/perseverance
Award-Winning Traditional Mysteries for the New Golden Age
Spring 2010: GOING, GONE by Laura Crum and MIDNIGHT FIRES by Nancy Means Wright
That’s right. All you bloggers out there with an active horse blog (by which I mean you update it regularly) can request a free review copy of my new book, “Going, Gone.” Email my publisher (Susan Daniels) at susan@danielpublishing.com and give your blog address, snail mail address, and agreement to post a review of the book on your blog and email Susan a copy of said review when you put it up. The review copies will be mailed out on March 1st (approximately), which is also the deadline for this offer. So get your request in now.
The first review of “Going, Gone” has just come in, and here it is:
Fans of Laura Crum's marvelous series of "equine" mysteries featuring veterinarian Gail McCarthy will certainly remember Lonny Peterson, the guy Gail looked certain to marry during the early years of her literary adventures. So, you can imagine how she'd feel to pay Lonny a visit while on vacation with her husband and child only to discover he's charged with murder.
Naturally, Gail immediately concludes Lonny's innocent and is being framed for the killing of his most recent girl friend and her brother. Will she have time on her vacation to catch the real murderer and help her former lover clear his name? Well, of course she will! But author Crum makes it a most suspenseful and intriguing process, so there's nothing "ho-hum" about this mystery adventure.
I'm an unabashed fan of Laura Crum's mysteries. One obvious reason is that Crum lives in and writes about my home territory--Santa Cruz County, California--where both of us were born and raised. But before I ever came to know Laura, I was a big fan of Dick Francis, his mysteries about horses and the people who deal in them. Though Francis is still writing mysteries with the help of his son, I believe Laura Crum is now doing better "equine" mysteries and should be the heir to Francis' literary domain.
Laura has now written 11 mysteries featuring Gail McCarthy. It has been fun to grow along with Laura and her alter-ego. Gail is now settled into her marriage to husband Blue and raising her little boy, Mac. She's putting on a little weight, but she's certainly not slowing down any--as you will discover in the thrilling climax of "Going, Gone," in which Gail has to ride for her life as the real murderer comes after her bent on putting her out of business forever.
The title comes from the world of horse auctions, which Crum gives us a good taste of while laying out the structure of her mystery plot. The people Lonny is accused of killing were in the auction business and the clues to the real killer are rooted in that world, which Gail has to explore on her own without much help from law enforcement.
This is a fast-moving mystery thriller that you won't want to put down once you're into it. It won't be officially published until April 5, but you can order it now on Amazon.com and the other online book retailers. It's published by Perseverance Press, an imprint of John Daniel & Co., in the larger format trade paperback edition with the slick cover. List price is $14.95, but you will be able to get it for less online.
Perseverance Press has rounded up quite a few of the better series mystery writers who lost their publishers in the recent market reshuffling by the big publishers. It also carries the mysteries of Lora Roberts, Carolyn Wheat, Jeanne M. Dams, Hal Glatzer and several more. These are clean, handsome volumes that will look fine in your mystery library.
They've kept the Gail McCarthy series alive and well, which has made me more than happy to do business with them.
©2010 by Ron Miller.
Ron Miller is a former nationally syndicated television columnist and the author of "Mystery! A Celebration," the official companion book to PBS' "Mystery!" series. He most recently was the television columnist for MYSTERY SCENE magazine.
Perseverance Press/John Daniel & Co.
http://www.danielpublishing.com/perseverance
Award-Winning Traditional Mysteries for the New Golden Age
Spring 2010: GOING, GONE by Laura Crum and MIDNIGHT FIRES by Nancy Means Wright
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
An Old Cowboy and a Blaze-faced Horse
by Laura Crum
Led and Lad. That’s who I’ve been thinking about lately. Led was the cowboy who taught my uncle to rope. And Lad was the horse who taught me to ride. The two of them are connected in more than one way.
Led was the last working cowboy on a famous old ranch in these parts. In the end this ranch became a state park, and Led ended up living on my uncle’s small horse ranch. Led was not only a working cowboy, but also a competitive rodeo team roper—in the 1940’s. As an old man, he taught my uncle, just beginning his team roping career, the value of a good rope horse. And thus we come to Lad.
Previous to Led’s instruction, my uncle, raised on a dairy ranch, bought cheap trading horses and tried to rope on them. The horses had no experience and neither did my (then young) uncle. The results were not spectacular. It was Led who began to teach my uncle the basics of team roping and helped him to find and buy Lad, a registered Quarter Horse who had been trained to be a competitive team roping horse.
Lad may have been the first registered horse my uncle bought. For sure he was the most expensive horse my uncle had ever purchased to that date. Lad cost six hundred dollars, the equivalent of six thousand these days, a fair price for a middle of the road rope horse.
Lad was not a fancy horse. Foundation bred and fairly coarse and common looking, Lad was dark brown and had a plain head and a big blaze. He had been raised on a ranch and was nobody’s pet. But he knew his job and was well broke enough that a kid could ride him (and I did—though he spooked occasionally and dumped me once in awhile). Lad and another old rope horse named Tovy effectively taught me to ride.
Both Led and Lad were a constant part of my life for many years when I was young. The old man and the horse gave me the background that is still my basic footing in the horse biz. They knew, none better, the true cowboy way. They were tough, effective, fair, unsentimental critters, and from them I gained a sensibility I still have, though I’ve modified it a bit over time.
My uncle, the most unsentimental of the lot, did give Lad a good long retirement and kept him until he died. As for Led, his story is sadder. In his old age he fell in love with a young woman and left my uncle’s place to live with her. She eventually found a younger man and essentially threw the old cowboy out, leaving him to end his days with a nephew who lived in a big city. Led wrote me a letter before he died, saying that he little thought he’d meet his end so far from horses and all that he’d loved. I wrote him back, but I knew that no words of mine could change the pain of that situation.
I often think of Led and Lad and am grateful for the tradition and way of life that they brought to me. Though Led was an old man when I knew him, we often talked horses together, and I learned a great deal from him. And the knowledge he passed to my uncle, my uncle passed to me. From the time I was very young, I knew how to tie a proper horseman’s knot and how to get along with a snorty old rope horse (this would be Lad). I rode my uncle’s many trading horses, I brought in the cattle, I helped my uncle start young horses. By the time I was eighteen, I was starting colts on my own. I spent two years working on a commercial cattle ranch and several summers working for a mountain pack station. When I went to work for professional horse trainers in my late twenties, I had a background that helped me to evaluate what I saw and take the parts that worked for me and discard the rest. Eventually I progressed to training my own cutting horse and competing on him (reasonably successfully-—see my previous posts titled “Winning” and “Once Upon A Time” for that story), and finally to breaking and training team roping horses for myself and my friends. I made some pretty nice rope horses, if I say so myself. And it was essentially because of Led and Lad that I had this knowledge.
Today, it is this foundation that helps free me to make my own choices. Because I know how the cowboy thing is really done, I’m not buffaloed by others’ opinions. I feel comfortable following my own path. If I enjoy trail riding on my steady bombproof horse (wearing my cozy Ugg boots) and don’t need to compete and train any more, I’m OK with myself about that. And I owe this confidence very largely to the old cowboy and the blaze-faced horse. I still take my son to the roping arena to ride with my uncle and the other ropers, even though I no longer care to rope. But I want my son to absorb the same tradition I absorbed, to learn how the thing is done from people who can really get the job done. I’m hoping this will free him and give him confidence, just as it has for me. (And no, I’m not saying that team ropers are more skilled than people of other horse disciplines. By and large—this is a generalization—they are practical, competent horsemen—if you really can’t ride and deal with a horse it is pretty much impossible to go full blast down the arena and rope and turn a steer. Thus the event itself weeds out those who have no horsemanship skills at all. On the other hand, many ropers know little about the fine points of working with a horse and their horsemanship can be a pretty crude thing. However, people who rope have to do more than just talk the talk.)
I’m guessing that lots of you in other horseback disciplines have had a mentor or a special horse that really gave you a grounding in the horse biz. Certainly many people who write in here have given very helpful, insightful opinions in the past, when it comes to training and relating to horses, and just life in general. Anybody have any stories to share on this subject? I’d love to hear your take on it.
PS--It’s a good thing I’ve got an indoor activity right now, as it has rained non-stop for almost ten days and no riding is happening here at all. My riding ring looks like a holding pond. My hairy, muddy horses are squelching through the slop. So far all are sound, healthy, eating well, keeping their weight on… knock on wood. The saddle horses don’t seem to mind the break from work. My thirty year old pasture pets are warm and dry under their blankets. During a brief lull yesterday I pulled on my rubber boots and walked around all corrals and pastures, ascertaining that every horse does have plenty of dry ground where he can get out of the mud (and I could see by the signs that they were spending time there). So things are going reasonably well, considering. But it is not fun horsekeeping weather.
It is, however, ideal weather for writing, and I have been getting quite a bit of writing done on book #12. And, as you can see by the sidebar, I’m also getting ready to announce the arrival of book #11. Yep, “Going, Gone” comes out this spring; I’ve put a short synopsis on my website, for those who are interested. This book centers around the murder of a livestock auctioneer, and involves a rescue horse, nefarious kill buyers, and a heroic horse blogger, as well as a thrilling (if I say so myself) horseback chase scene, so there should be something there for everybody. Not to mention “Going, Gone” features illustrations by Janet Huntington of Mugwump Chronicles, so all you fans of mugwump won’t want to miss her very nice drawings.
The book will be available in April, and I believe that you can already preorder it from Amazon and/or the publisher. However, I am planning to announce a special offer for horse bloggers only, so stay tuned for that. Until then, stay dry. Cheers--Laura
Led and Lad. That’s who I’ve been thinking about lately. Led was the cowboy who taught my uncle to rope. And Lad was the horse who taught me to ride. The two of them are connected in more than one way.
Led was the last working cowboy on a famous old ranch in these parts. In the end this ranch became a state park, and Led ended up living on my uncle’s small horse ranch. Led was not only a working cowboy, but also a competitive rodeo team roper—in the 1940’s. As an old man, he taught my uncle, just beginning his team roping career, the value of a good rope horse. And thus we come to Lad.
Previous to Led’s instruction, my uncle, raised on a dairy ranch, bought cheap trading horses and tried to rope on them. The horses had no experience and neither did my (then young) uncle. The results were not spectacular. It was Led who began to teach my uncle the basics of team roping and helped him to find and buy Lad, a registered Quarter Horse who had been trained to be a competitive team roping horse.
Lad may have been the first registered horse my uncle bought. For sure he was the most expensive horse my uncle had ever purchased to that date. Lad cost six hundred dollars, the equivalent of six thousand these days, a fair price for a middle of the road rope horse.
Lad was not a fancy horse. Foundation bred and fairly coarse and common looking, Lad was dark brown and had a plain head and a big blaze. He had been raised on a ranch and was nobody’s pet. But he knew his job and was well broke enough that a kid could ride him (and I did—though he spooked occasionally and dumped me once in awhile). Lad and another old rope horse named Tovy effectively taught me to ride.
Both Led and Lad were a constant part of my life for many years when I was young. The old man and the horse gave me the background that is still my basic footing in the horse biz. They knew, none better, the true cowboy way. They were tough, effective, fair, unsentimental critters, and from them I gained a sensibility I still have, though I’ve modified it a bit over time.
My uncle, the most unsentimental of the lot, did give Lad a good long retirement and kept him until he died. As for Led, his story is sadder. In his old age he fell in love with a young woman and left my uncle’s place to live with her. She eventually found a younger man and essentially threw the old cowboy out, leaving him to end his days with a nephew who lived in a big city. Led wrote me a letter before he died, saying that he little thought he’d meet his end so far from horses and all that he’d loved. I wrote him back, but I knew that no words of mine could change the pain of that situation.
I often think of Led and Lad and am grateful for the tradition and way of life that they brought to me. Though Led was an old man when I knew him, we often talked horses together, and I learned a great deal from him. And the knowledge he passed to my uncle, my uncle passed to me. From the time I was very young, I knew how to tie a proper horseman’s knot and how to get along with a snorty old rope horse (this would be Lad). I rode my uncle’s many trading horses, I brought in the cattle, I helped my uncle start young horses. By the time I was eighteen, I was starting colts on my own. I spent two years working on a commercial cattle ranch and several summers working for a mountain pack station. When I went to work for professional horse trainers in my late twenties, I had a background that helped me to evaluate what I saw and take the parts that worked for me and discard the rest. Eventually I progressed to training my own cutting horse and competing on him (reasonably successfully-—see my previous posts titled “Winning” and “Once Upon A Time” for that story), and finally to breaking and training team roping horses for myself and my friends. I made some pretty nice rope horses, if I say so myself. And it was essentially because of Led and Lad that I had this knowledge.
Today, it is this foundation that helps free me to make my own choices. Because I know how the cowboy thing is really done, I’m not buffaloed by others’ opinions. I feel comfortable following my own path. If I enjoy trail riding on my steady bombproof horse (wearing my cozy Ugg boots) and don’t need to compete and train any more, I’m OK with myself about that. And I owe this confidence very largely to the old cowboy and the blaze-faced horse. I still take my son to the roping arena to ride with my uncle and the other ropers, even though I no longer care to rope. But I want my son to absorb the same tradition I absorbed, to learn how the thing is done from people who can really get the job done. I’m hoping this will free him and give him confidence, just as it has for me. (And no, I’m not saying that team ropers are more skilled than people of other horse disciplines. By and large—this is a generalization—they are practical, competent horsemen—if you really can’t ride and deal with a horse it is pretty much impossible to go full blast down the arena and rope and turn a steer. Thus the event itself weeds out those who have no horsemanship skills at all. On the other hand, many ropers know little about the fine points of working with a horse and their horsemanship can be a pretty crude thing. However, people who rope have to do more than just talk the talk.)
I’m guessing that lots of you in other horseback disciplines have had a mentor or a special horse that really gave you a grounding in the horse biz. Certainly many people who write in here have given very helpful, insightful opinions in the past, when it comes to training and relating to horses, and just life in general. Anybody have any stories to share on this subject? I’d love to hear your take on it.
PS--It’s a good thing I’ve got an indoor activity right now, as it has rained non-stop for almost ten days and no riding is happening here at all. My riding ring looks like a holding pond. My hairy, muddy horses are squelching through the slop. So far all are sound, healthy, eating well, keeping their weight on… knock on wood. The saddle horses don’t seem to mind the break from work. My thirty year old pasture pets are warm and dry under their blankets. During a brief lull yesterday I pulled on my rubber boots and walked around all corrals and pastures, ascertaining that every horse does have plenty of dry ground where he can get out of the mud (and I could see by the signs that they were spending time there). So things are going reasonably well, considering. But it is not fun horsekeeping weather.
It is, however, ideal weather for writing, and I have been getting quite a bit of writing done on book #12. And, as you can see by the sidebar, I’m also getting ready to announce the arrival of book #11. Yep, “Going, Gone” comes out this spring; I’ve put a short synopsis on my website, for those who are interested. This book centers around the murder of a livestock auctioneer, and involves a rescue horse, nefarious kill buyers, and a heroic horse blogger, as well as a thrilling (if I say so myself) horseback chase scene, so there should be something there for everybody. Not to mention “Going, Gone” features illustrations by Janet Huntington of Mugwump Chronicles, so all you fans of mugwump won’t want to miss her very nice drawings.
The book will be available in April, and I believe that you can already preorder it from Amazon and/or the publisher. However, I am planning to announce a special offer for horse bloggers only, so stay tuned for that. Until then, stay dry. Cheers--Laura
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Winter, Horses, Books, and Life
by Laura Crum
Its that time of year again. The days are short and chilly and we have rain (or snow) and the horse corrals are muddy (or frozen). Most of us aren’t riding as much as we were and its easy to feel guilty about that (see my previous post on “Taking a Break”). Its also easy to feel down this time of year and focus on problems, like my saintly kid’s horse who wasn’t a saint on his last few rides (see my previous post on “The Lazy Horse”). These last six months have brought me the loss of three friends—two to death and one to disagreement, and its easy to feel sad about that. My husband and son have colds…well, I could go on, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that the winter season can get you down.
But Monday night was the solstice. We lit candles together as a family and acknowledged that we’re turning the corner…now the days will begin getting longer. We’re headed toward spring. And I thought about all the things in my life that are beautiful and delightful, as the candles sparkled in the winter night.
My husband and son are happy and (besides the colds) healthy, as are my horses, dog and cats. Henry may be lazy, but he’s hale and hearty, after going through colic surgery at the age of twenty. How grateful I am for that. We built a little addition to our house this summer—a small separate house with two rooms and a bathroom—much needed, as we live in a 650 sq ft house. This new little house turned out great and we’re so happy with it. I’m grateful for that. We live in a beautiful place where I can keep my horses at home and go trail riding out my front gate. I’m really grateful about that. I have the use of a lovely pasture just ten minutes away to keep my five retired/rescued horses—I’m thrilled about that. I have good friends and family around me. My life is great—I’m very lucky. I try to say “thank you” every single day.
On the writing front, the eleventh book in my mystery series about equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy comes out this spring. Titled “Going, Gone”, it revolves around the murder of a livestock auctioneer, and includes kill buyers, rescue horses, and a heroic horse blogger. Not to mention, for those of you who are fans of mugwump chronicles, “Going, Gone” features illustrations by mugwump herself. I’m sure you will all agree that the book is worth its purchase price for Janet’s drawings alone.
I hope that those who have enjoyed my books in the past, or enjoyed my blog posts on EI, will read “Going, Gone”. Many of my horses are used as characters in the story, and my local trails provide much of the background. I think you will find lots to interest you, and I’d love to get your reviews. The book should be out in April—it can be ordered from the usual sources or directly from the publisher—ordering info is on my website.
Currently I’m hard at work on book number twelve. The publisher has agreed to buy this book and release it in Spring 2012. Since my goal has always been to write and publish a dozen books in this series, I’m pretty tickled to be working on number twelve, knowing it has a berth. I’ve been very fortunate in my writing career, and I’m grateful for that, too.
Finally, I’ve very much enjoyed writing blog posts for EI, and getting to know those of you who write back. Season’s greetings to all, and I hope many blessings come your way. The earth is now tilting back toward the sun, for us in the northern hemisphere; may the coming year be a good one. Cheers--Laura
Its that time of year again. The days are short and chilly and we have rain (or snow) and the horse corrals are muddy (or frozen). Most of us aren’t riding as much as we were and its easy to feel guilty about that (see my previous post on “Taking a Break”). Its also easy to feel down this time of year and focus on problems, like my saintly kid’s horse who wasn’t a saint on his last few rides (see my previous post on “The Lazy Horse”). These last six months have brought me the loss of three friends—two to death and one to disagreement, and its easy to feel sad about that. My husband and son have colds…well, I could go on, but I won’t. Suffice it to say that the winter season can get you down.
But Monday night was the solstice. We lit candles together as a family and acknowledged that we’re turning the corner…now the days will begin getting longer. We’re headed toward spring. And I thought about all the things in my life that are beautiful and delightful, as the candles sparkled in the winter night.
My husband and son are happy and (besides the colds) healthy, as are my horses, dog and cats. Henry may be lazy, but he’s hale and hearty, after going through colic surgery at the age of twenty. How grateful I am for that. We built a little addition to our house this summer—a small separate house with two rooms and a bathroom—much needed, as we live in a 650 sq ft house. This new little house turned out great and we’re so happy with it. I’m grateful for that. We live in a beautiful place where I can keep my horses at home and go trail riding out my front gate. I’m really grateful about that. I have the use of a lovely pasture just ten minutes away to keep my five retired/rescued horses—I’m thrilled about that. I have good friends and family around me. My life is great—I’m very lucky. I try to say “thank you” every single day.
On the writing front, the eleventh book in my mystery series about equine veterinarian Gail McCarthy comes out this spring. Titled “Going, Gone”, it revolves around the murder of a livestock auctioneer, and includes kill buyers, rescue horses, and a heroic horse blogger. Not to mention, for those of you who are fans of mugwump chronicles, “Going, Gone” features illustrations by mugwump herself. I’m sure you will all agree that the book is worth its purchase price for Janet’s drawings alone.
I hope that those who have enjoyed my books in the past, or enjoyed my blog posts on EI, will read “Going, Gone”. Many of my horses are used as characters in the story, and my local trails provide much of the background. I think you will find lots to interest you, and I’d love to get your reviews. The book should be out in April—it can be ordered from the usual sources or directly from the publisher—ordering info is on my website.
Currently I’m hard at work on book number twelve. The publisher has agreed to buy this book and release it in Spring 2012. Since my goal has always been to write and publish a dozen books in this series, I’m pretty tickled to be working on number twelve, knowing it has a berth. I’ve been very fortunate in my writing career, and I’m grateful for that, too.
Finally, I’ve very much enjoyed writing blog posts for EI, and getting to know those of you who write back. Season’s greetings to all, and I hope many blessings come your way. The earth is now tilting back toward the sun, for us in the northern hemisphere; may the coming year be a good one. Cheers--Laura
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)