How much do they know?

My daughter, Olivia, is home from University for the holidays. She hadn’t seen Kwintus, our lovely old KWPN (ex)dressage-master, since early September, when he was suffering from terrible toothache and the dentist came to take a look at his mouth. That day, just before the dentist arrived, she took him for a short, gentle walk to the village and back. She didn’t know it was the last time she’d ever ride him. The following day, I drove her to England to start her new life.

I’ve written quite a few posts about the series of problems Kwintus developed after Olivia went off to University, problems which led to me having to retire him at the beginning of November. I’ve often wondered whether Kwintus somehow knew that Olivia had graduated from high school, was going off to University, and would no longer be a regular part of his life anymore. You see, fundamentally, Kwintus was her horse.

Sure, she and I shared riding him, but when, almost four years ago, we set off to Germany to find a horse, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that the riding bug would get such a strong hold of me again. I’d had a serious riding accident, hadn’t ridden in many years, and wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do more than go for gentle outside rides. Kwintus changed all that.


But as much as Kwintus clearly loves both of us, I think he has a super soft spot
for Olivia. I think he knows he’s “her” horse. I think he’s always considered himself as her “teacher”. Kwintus and Olivia always looked perfect together: Kwintus is not a very big horse (he’s 16hh), and my daughter is quite a lot smaller than me (I’m 5’9, with big bones!), so their partnership always appeared far more esthetically harmonious. At least, that’s what it seemed like to me. And in those perfect moments when everything came together, Olivia and Kwint had a magical connection. There was something...well, something almost romantic about their partnership! And, seriously, when I took Olivia up to the stables to visit Kwintus when she came back from England for the Christmas holidays, you’ve never seen a happier horse!

So when Olivia went away to University, did Kwintus know it was the end of an era? Did he decide that his work was over, and that, at the respectable old age of 18, it was time for him to enjoy a well-earned retirement?

In your experience, do our horses “know” more than we think? I’d love to hear your personal stories.

And speaking of personal stories, seeing as tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and that 2010has been a very emotional year for Olivia, Kwintus and me, I’d like to share something special. I recently came across the following story in my hard-drive, and reading it made me all warm and fuzzy inside. Ok, so it made me a little tearful, too! It's Olivia's account of her very first competition with Kwintus, three years ago. The way I see it, it’s her “International Velvet” moment!

Happy New Year to everyone!

The Winnings, by Olivia Bossert

Kwintus climbed into the van. You never would have known that he didn’t like the dark. He was as good as gold. I yawned impatiently.

“What’s the time?” called out my mother.

“About 5:30am. We should probably get a move on,” I replied. The barking dogs could be heard from the canteen. All the other horses had woken up and were becoming restless. I moved to the front of the van, gave Kwintus a carrot, a kiss and closed the door. Two months of training and today was the day.

I glanced at the rising sun over the Neuchatel lake. The crimson sky was spectacular. I needed something to lift my spirits and calm my nerves. I felt the car shake as the two anxious horses complained. I was as restless as they were. The nerves came and went, and I went over my programs continuously. If I forgot something, a moment of panic would occur and I’d scream at the others in the car, asking them what came after the 10 metre volt. Before they could answer, I’d already remembered.

We drove for another 30 minutes before arriving at the competition in St Blaise. We were directed into a big green field where other vans were parked. Dozens of horses whinnied and snorted all around, breathing in the fresh morning air, puffs of smoke wafting from their nostrils. We climbed out of the car, and I rushed to the door of the van. I hoisted it open and Kwintus pocked his head out, looking enthusiastically at everything around him. His braided mane looked lovely against his thick strong neck, and the white heart on his forehead was striking. He nudged me softly, and began to paw at what he thought was the ground. He startled himself and looked at me. I gave him a carrot and patted his neck; he was going to need the energy.

Kwintus and I walked into the warm up arena, and I glanced at all the other riders. I was the youngest. Everyone around me was over 25, and I felt vulnerable. What on earth was I thinking? There was no way I’d ever be good enough to beat any of these people. But before I could panic, I heard Marie-Valentine, my trainer, tell me to pick up my reins and collect Kwintus. She was the only trainer there, and I was thankful to have her. She called out to me, wondering if I could shorten my left rein a bit, and make his right hind-leg more active. I began to trot, and I could instantly tell how proud Kwintus was. His vain attitude was showing more than ever. He pranced around the arena as though he was an Olympic champion. Somehow, I felt the same.

I looked around for my father and my boyfriend. I’d been looking forward to showing them how much I’d progressed in two months.

“Are they here yet?” I called out to my mother.

“They’re by the ring!” she replied.

I closed my eyes and prayed nothing would go wrong.

I broke into an elegant canter, and practiced a few simple transitions. I could feel the sweat dripping down my back and my reins slipped through my hands as my palms got sweaty. It was my turn next.

Marie-Valentine told me to stop working, and walk Kwintus for the next five minutes. I did as I was told. I went over the program in my head at least a million times, and before I knew it, I was trotting down the centre line and saluting. I looked up, forced a smile, took a deep breath, and pushed Kwintus on.

“Go to the left, go to the left. After that, extend the trot.” The whole time, orders from my subconscious went in and out. A moment of panic. I forgot what to do, but within seconds, I had remembered the 10 metre circle. I managed the circle quite well, and carried on to the diagonal. Everything had been going perfectly. Five more minutes, just me and my horse. My left leg moved back, and we cantered. I squeezed my legs, asked for an extension, pushed Kwintus faster and faster, then sat deeper into my saddle and closed my seat to ask him to slow down. Using my abdominals, I sat even deeper into Kwintus, asking him to stop.

“That must have been an 8 out of 10,” I thought, quickly. But I didn’t have very long to think about the extension, I already had to transition into walk. I halted for three seconds, and asked Kwintus to go backwards five strides, sighing when I felt his hind quarters move slightly to the right.

“You’re so silly, you could have done that perfectly straight Kwintus,” I thought, hoping he would hear me. Somehow, I think he did.

When it came to the final extension, my heart was beating faster than ever. I felt nauseous and tired. All I could think about was the extension, and the halt at the centre line. Right before we reached the corner, a surge of excitement exploded inside me, and I gave it my all. Kwintus flung his legs out as far as he could, and I felt his strength soaring across the arena. All of a sudden, it was over. I saluted and smiled, showing all my teeth (even the little gap in my mouth!). I heard cheering and clapping. I looked back, and realised that my whole family was there, cheering me on and congratulating me.

“You gave the best performance! It was beautiful. Swift and clean, so precise. Your mother was near tears!” called out Carine, my friend who was about to enter in the same program as me. “I’m so proud of you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Had we really done it? Two months of training, had it really paid off? Were all those strangers really clapping for me?

Surely not!

I walked back to the van, patting Kwintus and kissing his neck. I was sweaty and tired, and all I wanted to do crawl into the car and sleep. When I reached the van, I jumped off his back and took off the saddle. When I turned around, I saw my trainer and mother jogging up the field.

“Congratulations! Wow it was absolutely beautiful! We are all so proud of you,” exclaimed Marie-Valentine.

“Everyone is talking about you. They’re all wondering who you are, where you’re from, who trains you!” said my mother.

I handed the reins to Marie-Valentine, and she took him to the other side of the van to let him graze. I sat down and had a drink. There were too many thoughts bouncing around in my head.

“Olivia! You’re first! You’re first on the list! Can you believe it?” I turned around and saw my father smiling at me. “You’ve got a score of 69%!”

Suddenly I felt quite dizzy. 69%? I had to be dreaming.

“It’s true Olivia, all the other riders have scores of 65% or less!” insisted my boyfriend, Tim.

I blinked at him. Could it be possible? All those other riders! All those people who had been riding that program for years! Had I really beaten them?

“But what about that man that went before me? He’s been riding for years! I used to watch him when I was only seven years old, sitting on top of fat ponies! Surely he must have beaten me.”

“He hasn’t.” Marie-Valentine explained calmly. “You’ve beaten everyone!”

It felt too good to be true.

And yet, a few hours later, Kwintus and I had beaten everyone! Yes, we had won our very first competition!

A Quiet Mind

by Laura Crum


I haven’t been doing much riding lately. Make that ANY riding. Its been raining a lot and everything is wet. Mud in my corrals, a mucky spot at one end of my riding ring, the trails are too wet to ride. I’m not complaining. We have the occasional dry winter out here on the central coast of California and then I ride a lot, but most winters we go through a few multi-week periods of rain, and the horses and I take a break. It doesn’t do us any harm. I get my horses out to graze almost every day, and because I don’t want them tearing up the softer, damper places on the property, I handgraze them, keeping them on the dryer ground. This takes more time than turning them loose, but I like it because it keeps me interacting with the horses. Which is how I learned something new.

I have written a lot about how much I enjoy my two quiet, bombproof geldings, Henry and Sunny, when my son and I ride them on the trail. But here’s something else I found out—a quiet mind is good for other things. Its very relaxing to be around.

This seems self evident, but, in fact, I never thought about it before. A quiet minded horse is different from a gentle horse. My horse Plumber, who will be 22 this spring, is a gentle horse. I’ve owned him since he was three, I broke and trained him, and I rode with my son in front of me on Plumber when my little boy was 3-5 years old. I’ve ridden Plumber through the mountains and team roped on him. And Plumber has been living in his big corral on my property for nineteen years. That’s how well I know Plumber. I’ve never come off of Plumber and neither has anyone else. Plumber is a truly gentle horse… but he doesn’t have a quiet mind.

What do I mean by this? It’s a little hard for me to explain, so perhaps I’ll just tell you how I came to this conclusion. In the course of handgrazing Henry, Sunny, and Plumber these last couple of weeks, I made an odd discovery. Handgrazing Henry and Sunny is very relaxing. My two calm, bombproof horses come quietly out of their pens, even though it is a couple of weeks and more since they’ve been ridden, they march steadily alongside me to the spot where I’ve chosen to graze them, and, at my signal, they put their heads down and graze. I watch them crop grass happily and I daydream, or stroke their shoulders or watch the breeze in the leaves or the quail pecking in the brush. Very pleasant. I’m aware enough to cope easily if something came up that I had to deal with, but it almost never does. A branch falls, the dog comes rushing out of a bush, someone slams the door at the nearby house—these horses may look up and prick their ears in an alert, interested way—that’s it. We’re all relaxed.

Then I get Plumber out. Now I trust Plumber not to hurt me—step on me, kick me, whatever—much more than I trust Sunny, who likes to play dominance games. So this is not a matter of being gentle and trustworthy. But Plumber is not “quiet minded”. He never was. A playful, curious, interactive horse, Plumber tries hard to please, is always a little anxious, and is very sensitive and reactive. He was an easy horse to train, but even as an older horse, he spooks at little things and is just, well, not quiet.

So, I get Plumber out of his pen and he half prances alongside of me. He is totally under control, just full of energy. When I signal him to graze, he starts here, then moves over there, then wants to walk over here. If I touch his shoulder he starts. If the wind blows in the trees, he starts. If the dog comes charging through, he spooks. Not on top of me, mind you—he has better manners than that, but he spooks. And this goes on the whole time I graze him.

Plumber has always been like this. When I would handgraze him as a reward after a good workout as a four-year-old, he would act like this. For many years I was so used to it that it didn’t even register. But, suddenly, the other day, it struck me how much more relaxing it was for me to graze Henry and Sunny and how much I enjoy this trait of quiet-mindedness.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love Plumber and I will take care of him until the day he dies. But I was able to acknowledge to myself that these days I prefer a quiet-minded horse. It is not that I’m afaid that Plumber will hurt me. It would take a pretty difficult horse to threaten me while I was leading/grazing him, and Plumber never threatened me in his whole life, during the many years I rode him. No, its more subtle than that. I can’t relax with Plumber in the same way I do Henry and Sunny. Its like sitting by someone who is restlessly tapping their fingers and toes and chewing their nails, constantly fidgeting, always looking around to see what’s going on. Its hard to relax in their prescence.

As I say, Plumber was always like this. He didn’t like to stand still while you were on him, and would fidget, chewing the bit. And yet he was an obedient, hard trying little horse, despite his spooking and fidgeting. During the years I rode him, I accepted his minor anxieties and just lived with them. We were good partners. So it almost suprises me that after three years of handling/riding mostly Henry and Sunny, how attuned I’ve become to these two horses calm, confident, relaxed way of being. Now Plumber’s reactive, anxious energy, however well intentioned, somewhat gets on my nerves, makes me feel jangled.

I’m not sure how Plumber got this way. It could be something in how I trained him. Yet I’ve known him since he was born, and he was always an inquisitive, active, sensitive colt. I’m inclined to think its his basic nature. On the other hand, I didn’t know Sunny and Henry as colts, nor did I watch their training, so I don’t know if it was something in their nature or in their training which disposed them to be such calm, self-confident horses. Perhaps it’s a combination of both.

Its been an interesting thing for me to learn. First to notice that Plumber’s energy is unsettling in comparison to Sunny and Henry, and second to notice how much I like these quiet-minded horses. Their confidence in themselves leaves me feeling free—I never noticed before how much of my own energy was always bound up in being attentive and reassuring to my horse—I guess this is a legacy from all those years when I trained young horses. To ride a solid minded horse (or handle him) is very freeing. You can trust him to take care of himself for the most part.

Sunny and Henry are not deadheads. They run and buck and play in their large corrals as much as Plumber does. But their underlying nature is different. They are essentially quiet, calm, little horses who know their way around and are not afraid of much. Both were performers at team roping, which demands a lot of a horse, so they know how to exert themselves when its asked of them. What they are is solid-minded, confident horses—and for me, these days, this is a trait to be prized. Not just because they keep me (and my son) safe, but because they give me, in turn, a quiet mind.

I don’t think this idea even existed on my radar when I was younger. I chose my horses because I thought they might do well at whatever event I was pursuing at the moment, and because I was drawn to them. I tried to choose willing individuals that I could work with. Sometimes I succeeded in picking a horse that really suited me, and sometimes I didn’t. But the concept of looking for a quiet-minded horse because such a horse was conducive to tranquility in one’s own mind—this concept didn’t exist for me. I would not, I think, have distinguished between a gentle horse and a truly quiet minded horse, nor between a quiet minded horse and one that was simply dull. I just never thought about it.

Today one of my greatest pleasures is hanging out with my horses, whether its hand grazing them, or sitting in my chair in the barnyard, watching them munch hay, or sitting on the porch as they ramble around my property, grazing in the sunshine. And this hanging out is most peaceful and rewarding to me when I’m in the company of a quiet minded horse. Not to mention that quiet mind is very helpful when we’re on a trail ride.

So today I’m curious if there are traits that you prize in horses now that you either didn’t care about or weren’t much aware of when you were newer to horses. For me, it’s a quiet mind; anything special that you value?

And Happy New Year to all—may 2011 bring you much joy.

Sites to Inspire

As we head into the New Year 2011, I wanted to share a few equine sites I visited recently that you might find useful and inspiring.

First, here is an outfit similar to Netflix that specializes in renting horse videos. It's called GiddyUpFlix and boasts more than 1000 training and horse info videos. I have never used it, but with the price of training videos being so high, the concept seems interesting. Here is the link: http://www.giddyupflix.com/

Second, most of you may know that the legendary racehorse Zenyatta was just retired to begin her life as a broodmare. Arriving at Lane's End Farm in Kentucky during a December snowstorm, she spent her time inside her huge new stall, with time outside being limited to handwalking in a snowfilled paddock. Finally acclimated to her surroundings and calming down to her new life away from the racetrack, she was allowed to run free and play.

Here are photos from that first day: http://www.drf.com/news/photos-zenyatta-play-her-lanes-end-paddock

and here is a video of Zenyatta on the first day of her release: http://www.bloodhorse.com/horse-racing/videos/watch/7BA0A106-8A93-4BDD-A926-78F30706DDD7

And Third, in a post sure to inspire us to never again complain about our circumstances, meet Bettina Eistel, a woman born without arms, who cares for, saddles, rides, and competes in dressage on her horse Fabuleax 5. Here is the link: http://horseandman.com/people-and-places/the-determined-bettina-eistel-and-her-very-special-horse-fabuleax-5/ This is truly amazing.

Happy New Year, Everyone!

Happy Holidays from Friday Harbor

I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Holidays and best wishes for the new year. My husband and I decided to spend Christmas in the San Juan Islands this year. If you've ever read any of my books, you'll remember two of them are set in the San Juans on Orcas Island. My 5th book will be set on San Juan Island in the Friday Harbor area.

An update on Gailey. She is now lame in a front leg. The vet injected her a week ago, and she's been on bute. I'll start bringing her back tomorrow. It's been an up and down year for her, and I hope 2011 gives me more opportunities to ride her, instead of less.

Since I haven't had time to compose a post for this Sunday, I thought I'd share some of my pictures with you from our trip. I hope you enjoy them. Blogger would only let me load these pictures, so I posted some more on my Jami Davenport blog. We thoroughly enjoyed our time in the islands. I'd love to do this again. Last year we spent Thanksgiving here. By the way, I noticed a lot of horses on this island and even horse trails at American Camp.

Here's wishing you a wonderful New Year and may all your rides be safe and fun!!!!!


We had a rough crossing.




Roche Harbor's Hotel De Haro



A Sunny Friday Harbor on Christmas day taken from our room overlooking the ferry landing

American Camp--Occupied by American troops in the 1860s-1870s when the British and Americans claimed these islands.

A view of the Islands and Cattle Passage from American Camp

Tips for the Trail

by Laura Crum

I want to begin this post by referencing a comment on my previous post “Good Trail Horses”. kippen64 wrote that her criteria for a good trail horse were almost completely different from mine, and the quiet proven trail horse could wait until she was older. I think she raised a good point. I’m writing about a specific concept, here. It won’t apply to everyone. There are many riders in the world who are bolder and less worried about safety than I am. Such riders would find our horses boring. Also, I chose my two trail horses because I wanted to give my son a safe, happy, relaxing experience on the trails, and we both needed bombproof trail horses to do this. However, since owning these horses, I have heard so many people (on the blogs and elsewhere) discuss their anxiety issues regarding trail riding, or, worse yet, their bad wrecks which have caused them to be afraid to trail ride at all, that I have realized that there are a lot of folks who would really benefit if they owned horses like Sunny and Henry.

So, to clarify, the sort of trail riding I am talking about (and doing) is very quiet, relaxing rambles through the countryside. It is not ambitious, from a devoted trail enthusiast’s point of view. Three hours is a long ride for us. Our horses are gentle and reliable and the territory we ride features dirt trails through forested, rolling hills. There are steep places. We also ride on the beach. Virtually all my rides these days are in the company of my ten year old son. So, if you are a fit, experienced, ambitious rider with no anxiety issues regarding the trail, my posts about trail riding are not likely to apply to you, and I do understand that. My “tips” are mostly aimed at those whose goals are more like mine.

OK—on to the point of this post. Not so long ago I read an interesting comment on another blog. I absolutely don’t remember who said this, so if somebody does, please remind me. It was in reference to whether one should lean forward when going uphill on the trail and lean back when going downhill. Or should one just sit up straight. This astute commenter said that one should stay at about the angle of the trees.

This interested me, so on my next trail ride, I paid attention. I have been riding so long that I don’t make any concious effort to do any particular thing, but on this ride I tried to see if I leaned or not and did I stay at the same angle as the trees. Well, this isn’t all that easy to determine around here because a lot of our trees are twisty things—liveoaks and madrones and the like. However, whenever I got next to some straight trees (pines, firs, redwoods) on a steep slope I found that yes, indeed, my body was at the same angle as the trees. So this advice seems accurate to me.

It isn’t that one leans exactly. One simply stays perpendicular, while the plane of the horse’s back tilts under one. I thought that was a pretty good tip. Because, as another commenter said (I think it was Funder, correct me if I’m wrong), it isn’t all that helpful to the horse if you lean too much, and many horses will point this out to the rider.

This got me wondering if I had any useful trail riding tips to pass on. I do a lot of trail riding, so certainly I should know something that might help someone else. You’d think. Anyway, here are some thoughts that occurred to me.

Spooking. People talk a lot about horses spooking at objects on the trail, and how to handle this. Most any horse will spook on the trail, at least occasionally. There are so many unexpected things: hikers half concealed by bushes, deer crashing away through the brush, funny looking stumps that could be crouching predators…etc. I don’t fault even a “bombproof” horse for making the occasional startled jump. I’m prepared for this, and I’ve taught my son to be prepared, too. My system is to ride with very light contact. If I think the horse might spook, I will increase the contact—barely. We are still talking very light contact. I am trying to be reassuring, not trying to force the horse. I make sure I have a hold on the horn (and to all you purists who don’t grab the horn, all I can say is spend a few years riding cutting horses and you’ll learn the value of this). I speak aloud. If there is a hiker, I talk to the hiker. If it’s a stump, I mention it’s a stump. If it’s a deer, I say so. Just in a relaxed conversational tone. I may speak to my riding companion, if I have one, warning that my horse may spook. I say this lightly, as if there is nothing wrong, just a trivial matter. I don’t say, “whoa there” and talk nervously to the horse or to others. I do not tighten up my legs. I don’t pull on the reins. If the horse spooks, I hang on by my grip on the horn. I don’t tighten my legs or the reins after he spooks, either. My body stays loose and as relaxed as I can make it. I may pick up on the reins if the horse seems to be going to make more than one jump, but its very gentle. In that case, I might say, “Whoa.”

Once the horse is standing still, I pretty much ignore the spook. If the horse is still scared, I might wait a minute until he sorts it out. If he dances around a little, I’ll maintain light contact and encourage him to walk forward. Once he seems calm, I ask him to walk by. If he remains frightened and I have a companion, I’ll let the companion give me a lead, if his/her horse is calm. Once in my life, faced with a very high, scary bridge and four horses that had never been over it (I was the leader), I got off and led my horse. In every other case, I have stayed aboard and walked on by (or danced on by) the scary object. In short, I simply try to minimize the whole thing. This works well for me. It builds my horse’s confidence and he grows progressively less worried and spooky.

The way I handle spooking has a lot to do with my background riding cutting horses. A good cutting horse’s move with a cow can be a lot like a sudden, powerful spook. Cutters hang on with their grip on the saddle horn and try to keep their body loose and relaxed. They sit deep in the saddle, virtually slumping their shoulders forward. The legs are loose, not gripping to hold on. This enables the rider to cue the horse but also helps the horse to stay centered and calm, helps him not to “work out” toward the cow, a big no-no. The reins stay loose, again helping the horse to remain calm. When I say I pick up on the reins after a spook, it’s the exact same motion a cutter makes when he gently asks his horse to “quit” a cow. Calm, reassuring, light contact. I have to say that having a saddle horn to hang onto is pretty essential when it comes to riding a spook this way, and I have been known to encourage English riders who are nervous about trail riding to use a western saddle for this purpose and see how they like it. I do know a few dressage riders who ride “western” on the trail.

In any case, the way I handle spooking has a tendency to make most horses less spooky, and keeps everybody calm. I do not think that I, personally, could ride this way in an English saddle. Perhaps some who are better riders than I am could do this. But maybe not. Years ago I was riding a paint horse named Simon on a solo trail ride and met another rider on a blind corner. Neither horse had heard the other horse coming and both spooked quite violently. I hung on, riding the spook as described above. The other rider, in an English saddle, came off and landed flat on the ground, still holding her reins, I might add. I got off and made sure she was OK. She was. In the course of remounting and chatting, I discovered that she was a very experienced dressage rider and had done tons more with horses than I had ever thought of doing. The difference between us when it came to that spook was the saddle horn.

When it comes to the kind of horse that is chronically spooky, and inclined to panic and bolt, I would not ride such a horse on the trails—period. Way too dangerous. Get another trail horse would be my tip there. (See my previous post “Good Trail Horses”.) It is my inclination to think that unless you are fit and fearless and want a training project there is no need to ride a horse on the trail that wants to bolt. Again, it is very dangerous, and there are so many horses that won’t do this.

Jigging. In my experience, almost every horse can have a jiggy day, or at least a jiggy moment. Horses that are chronically jiggy (herdbound, barn sour) are virtually impossible to cure. Horses that are willing to bolt towards home…etc, see the above advice. But even my Sunny horse, who is a calm, reliable trail horse, will have an occasional minute of getting just a little “strong” on the way home. Maybe one ride in a dozen. No big deal. He doesn’t even break out of the walk. Just pushes on me a little. My solution is to sit deep in the saddle, take the weight out of my stirrups, relax, focus on cooperation. I will remind the horse with one rein, gently, to pay attention. I will talk to him a bit, asking him to pay attention to me. (This works on Sunny—doesn’t work on a lot of them.). I may stop and stand still for awhile (again, this helps Sunny—doesn’t help a lot of them). I resist the urge to pull on the horse or give him an annoyed jerk. And this behavior does annoy me. However, I have found that reprimanding the horse for jigging in a forceful way does not help. Hanging on his face will not help. If I am on a solo ride and there is no time pressure on me, I will turn back out and go home a different way. I may go home by a steep downhill trail, where Sunny must pick his way carefully (do not try this on a chronic jigger—it could be dangerous—I have had such a horse get sideways on very steep ground). If my horse had more of a problem with this than Sunny does, I might stop in a little meadow, get off, take off the bridle (my trail horses wear a halter under their bridles), and let my horse graze awhile until he was calm and relaxed. And no, Sunny has never been jiggy enough to warrant this, nor have I ever done it on any other horse, but its been mentioned on other blogs and it makes sense to me.

Another point. I don’t trail ride with my reins hanging in great loose swags. I see others doing this and I disagree with this practice. I ride my horse with minimal contact, but the “feel” is there. I let my horse know where I want him to step on tricky trail. I don’t let him choose the route, riding with totally loose reins. Why? Because I have known several horses that, ridden like this (not by me), stepped in the wrong place and slid off the trail. One to his death. It is a mistake to assume that your horse will not make a mistake. They do. Be alert, aware, and forge a relationship with the horse whereby he accepts your input easily and willingly (and you do this by riding this way all the time). Thus, even on flat ground, approaching a small ditch, I will let my horse know where I want to cross. He may indicate another preference, and I may go with his choice, but I decide. Every time. For me, this is a safety issue.

Another safety issue has to do with footing. I have done a lot of trail riding on rock (see my book, “Slickrock”), though there is no rock on my local trails. In the winter there is mud, however, which can be very slippery. I would caution everyone new to trail riding to be very thoughtful about mud or rock when its combined with steep slopes. Or level trails with “exposure”—a steep drop on one side. This can be very, very dangerous. I have seen experienced trail horses slip and go down under these circumstances. Just because another horse gets through the slippery piece with no problem does not mean your horse will also have no problem. All it takes is for one hoof to slip and for the horse to get worried and start scrambling. I saw a very experienced trail horse end up rolling down the hill this way (he had some scrapes and lost some shoes but was OK—the rider bailed off and was OK, too). I don’t ride in the hills when I don’t feel the footing is good. In my case, I also don’t wish to tear up the trails and make them unpleasant for hikers and other horsemen. I wish all other riders would show this sort of consideration, but they don’t. At least around here.

Then there is traffic. Horses and cars are a bad mix, as many have pointed out. The nearest I came to a terrible wreck involved riding a gentle mare along a city street. We had parked there because the rodeo parking lot was full and we were riding to the roping at the Salinas Rodeo. We only had about a block to go. The street was jammed with trucks and horse trailers which forced me off the sidewalk and onto the shoulder of the road. The mare was not afraid of cars, but she spooked a little at a giant storm drain in the gutter—just as a city bus zoomed by. My left stirrup came about three inches from the side of that moving bus, as did the mare’s foreleg. It was a very near thing and it sticks in my mind. I have never ridden a horse along the shoulder of a busy road since.

I do cross a busy road to get to the trails near my house, and though I don’t enjoy it, I feel it is reasonably safe. I wait by the side of the road in a big field until there are no visible cars and then trot briskly across. My horses are not the least afraid of traffic and wait by the side of the road like statues, knowing the drill. But I still wouldn’t ride them down the shoulder. That one lesson sticks with me.

Perhaps my biggest piece of advice is more or less contained in my previous post, “Good Trail Horses”. If you want to trail ride in a relaxing way for fun and are not into doing a lot of training, choose a horse that is suited to this activity. I have owned some chronically jiggy and/or spooky horses in my life, and though they were stars at their events, they would not, I think, have made satisfying trail horses for most people. Nor do I think that even a much better trainer than I ever was could have changed them much in this respect. They were flighty, energetic horses, inclined to be nervous and/or anxious, or just liked to go, and walking quietly down the trail wasn’t in their nature. They weren’t the type of horse to make endurance horses, nor was I interested in this, but I do understand that for those of you who want to cover lots of miles at a brisk pace, the requirements are different. You may need an energetic, lively horse. I am talking here of the sort of relaxed trail riding that I do, which others have expressed an interest in.

Any tips you can contribute? Many of you have done lots more ambitious trail riding than I do these days, and could probably offer some good advice. And happy holidays to all of you—from soggy central California. We’ve passed the winter solstice—from now on the days get longer!

Warmbloods or Quarter Horses?

Every time I walk into the barn, I marvel that this beautiful creature blinking her big, soft brown eyes at me is my horse.

From the time I was old enough to say the word horse, I’ve loved horses. In college I wanted to learn to ride “English” and fell into lessons from a dressage instructor. A few years later, I saw my first warmblood, a Trakehner/Quarter Horse cross. I fell in love with the big, powerful creatures bred in Europe for their movement and temperaments.

My dream horse became a 17-hand warmblood. Over the years, I fantasized about owning such an animal. Now I marvel at the fact that I do own the very horse of my fantasies. So I’m trying to enjoy every minute of it as I doubt I’ll get another warmblood. If I do, there’s no way it could ever match Gailey in my mind.

As I read and studied about warmbloods, I was fascinated with the warmblood breeding programs. Warmbloods aren’t purebreds, they’re types of horses named for areas in which they are bred or breeding programs. The various programs often add horses of other breeds into the mix to refine/improve the breed. Also, most of the warmblood registries require some kind of testing in order for a horse to be approved for breeding, regardless of whether or not it’s already registered with the society, especially stallions. This also fascinated me. In America with our American breeds, you can buy an Arabian, Quarter Horse, Appaloosa, etc., and breed it to your heart’s content and register all the offspring. No testing required. Anyone can have a backyard breeding program. In fact, you don’t even need a purebred registered horse.

Breeding anything to anything just isn’t done in Europe. Many of their breeding programs are run by the government or were originally run by the government. Does this result in a superior horse? I would suspect your average warmblood off the street is superior to your average American breed, depending on your criteria. On the other hand, I would also match the best of our horses against the best of their horses any day. If that’s even possible because it would be like comparing apples to oranges. Quarter Horses were bred for a completely different set of qualifications than warmbloods. They were working cow horses with inbred cow sense. My warmblood mare wouldn’t have a clue what to do with a cow.

Warmbloods were war horses at one time. Now they’re bred as sport horses, mainly for jumping, dressage, and eventing. Yet, if I was in the market for a nice, low maintenance trail horse, you can’t go wrong with a good Quarter Horse. Around here, an average warmblood goes for about $10,000, while a nice trail-horse-type Quarter Horse is around $2500. Then add the costs of feed and maintenance. Usually warmbloods are more expensive to feed, as they’re larger. Also my warmblood certainly has more health issues than my Morgan/QH ever had.

I love riding my warmblood. I’ve never ridden a more comfortable animal. I also love just looking at her. She’s a beautiful, noble creature. Yet, despite my admiration of warmbloods, I’m guessing my last horse will most likely be a Quarter Horse, as I slowly transition from competitive riding to trail riding. I can’t justify the expense of a warmblood unless I’m showing it. Plus, I could probably keep two Quarter Horses easily on my property, as opposed to one warmblood.

So as Gailey struggles with soundness, I’m trying to live in the present, but I’m also considering the future. I’m guessing my future horse is a Quarter Horse.

I want to wish everyone a Happy Holidays and a very Merry Christmas. I hope you have a good one.

May the Planets be with You

Recently, it seems that the planets are rolling around in the sky, conspiring to align in the crappiest positions possible for so many people around me. Every other person seems to be getting sick, or if they’re not getting sick, they’re dealing with sick relatives, or a sick or injured animal. Some are worrying about their kids’ problems at school, or about problems at work, or about how the heck they’re going to pay a particularly impressive mountain of bills at the end of the month. The ones with the most crappy planet alignment are dealing with all of the above, which seriously sucks. Come to think of it, I’m in the latter category this month. Mars and Mercury must really have it out for me.

Oh well. Chin up. Things could be a whole lot worse. Blessings aligned and standing by for assessment. The only way out is through, right?

The planets will realign, of course, as they always do, and things will improve. This time of the year tends to be pretty hectic, with everyone running around preparing for the holidays, which is pretty insane, really, as Christmas is supposed to be all about love and peace and hope, and not about stressing about decorating and what to buy who. The notion of “all is calm, all is bright” tends to only exist in the Christmas music the shopping centres have been force-feeding us with since late October. I used to quite like Wham’s “Last Christmas”. Now it makes me break out. In spots, not into song.

The crazy thing is that we all know Christmas is supposed to be all Zen and Silent-Nightish, yet with all the pressure it’s hard not to scurry over to the frantic, frazzled, dark side, be it physically or mentally. My frantic scurrying has been more mental this year, as all sorts of unpleasant recent events have shoved high-energy shopping sprees right to the back of my mind. And I’ve always been aware that there are more important gifts to give than material ones, but I always like to “give” in one way or another, and not just at Christmas. I love making things for people, and as I mentioned in a comment on Alison’s latest post, in the last few weeks, I’ve spent hours knitting scarves for friends and family. The clicking of my knitting needles makes watching Jack Bauer’s curtain call (we’re watching the final season of “24”) more productive, it’s also kept me from biting my nails down to painful levels, although the sorry state of my gnawed disasters suggests knitting with Jack has definitely not been enough. I wonder if Jack Bauer bites his nails…

Otherwise, Kwintus is fine. He’s been officially retired for a month or so now. His shoes came off about two weeks ago, when a giant dump of snow made going out into the fields with shoes impossible as he ended up teetering around on ice-wedges. He’s definitely a happy horse, quite full of himself, dancing around on his lead rope whenever he’s led from his stable to the field and back. He’s always delighted to see me, and one of the nicest images I have of him lately is him cantering towards through the snow after I called him. He stumbled once or twice, presumably due to a mix of uneven terrain and neck arthritis, but camouflaged his momentary lack of elegance with a series of bucks and cat jumps! Cute!

I miss riding him. I miss riding in general, and have no idea when I’ll be able to buy another horse, but as of January have been offered the possibility of riding a friend of mine’s dressage horse once or twice a week at another stable, which is great. Meanwhile, I can’t seem to stop myself from looking at horses for sale on the Internet, which is silly since buying anything at the moment is out of the question, not only for financial reasons, but also because I’m not ready emotionally speaking.

Also, I don’t really know what type of horse I’d want. Good dressage horses are so very expensive, and judging from the problems other riders around me are experiencing at the moment, they also appear to be increasingly delicate. In fact, horses in general seem to be increasingly delicate, developing all kinds of problems at a younger and younger age. My vet seems to think over-breeding is becoming an issue, as well as over-feeding during the mares’ gestation period, not to mention putting too many demands on very young horses’ athletic performances. What do you think?

And is it just a local issue (Western Europe) or are you also hearing about more and more horses failing to pass vet-checks during the acquisition process? With all the high-tech instruments now involved in vetting horses, I can’t help thinking we’ve got to the point where we’re looking for trouble, nit-picking on tiny weaknesses that might never turn into massive problems. But then again, I’m no expert, so I don’t know. Clearly, if you’re paying thousands or tens of thousands (not to mention hundreds of thousands, or even millions!!!) of Euros/dollars/pounds/et al for a horse, you’re going to want reassurance that the tiny flaw in his/her tendons/ligaments/bones/et al aren’t going to turn your investment into a very bad joke within five minutes. In this light, I totally get that the poor vets need to nit-pick in order to cover their backsides in case it all goes belly-up. I just wish things were simpler. Less stressful. Don’t you?

But I’m not going to worry about my future potential bankruptingly-expensive super delicate dressage horse’s nit-picking vet-check. Not now, at least. Nor am I going to dwell on the negative effects of those misbehaving planets. I’ve got a lovely warm house, plenty of delicious tangerines in the fruit bowl, and a nice man delivered a giant box of chocolates to my doorstep this morning. My little dog is feeling better (he had a parasite in his intestines, poor guy. He was soooo sick!), and my slightly bigger dog doesn’t seem to be cross with me for having him castrated last week (Ouch. I know. But it had to be done.) My daughter is home from University for a month, my son’s school holidays begin tomorrow lunchtime, and my husband is off work as of tomorrow evening for two weeks. How many more blessings does a woman need?

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone. And may the planets be with you!