Le Bling

Qrac and me? No!!! Carl Hester and Uthopia!

Showtime is whooshing towards me. On Sunday, sometime after 12.30, Qrac and I will be making our grand début in Swiss dressage, entering at A, shooting straight down the centreline before halting squarely at X. While Qrac stands still and proud, I will smile at the judges, bow my head and offer them a regal salute.

That’s how I’m visualising it, anyway, because all the self-help books insist that visualising is the key to achieving your goals. Maybe I should write myself a special affirmation card: “Qrac and I are turning elegantly at A with impeccable flexion, remaining in a constant rhythm and trotting with suspension and grace towards wide-eyed judges transfixed by our entrance”. Maybe I should hang a copy above Qrac’s stable, letting him absorb the energy of this affirmation. Do you reckon it’s worth a shot? Because, so far, during our practise sessions, when we enter, we can never quite seem to find A, and elegance probably isn’t the first adjectives that comes to mind as we swerve around my inside leg, haunches in perdition, then launch ourselves drunkenly down the centre line, desperately seeking X.

Okay, so I’m exaggerating, and chances are we don’t look half as bad as I feel we do. There are random moments of exhilaration when at least part of my affirmation card materializes, and we do turn at X, and Qrac doesn’t fall onto his inside shoulder, and we get to X in quite good form. It’s just that we’re not exactly consistent. But who knows; maybe we’ll get lucky on Sunday and nail our entrance.

Frankly, if the sun shines, chances are our entrance won’t matter that much because the judges won’t be able to see us anyway, being blinded by all our bling. And we’re talking bling, here! Qrac will be wearing a Swarovski crystal encrusted white saddle blanket (leant to me by a very kind, very blingy friend), and I’ve invested in a new fabulously sparkly Swarovski crystal encrusted stock pin. Qrac’s forelock will be plaited, revealing his sparkly brow-band (someone suggested I scatter a few Swarovski crystals into his Spanish braid, too, and glitter oil on his feet, but that would be serious overkill, don’t you think?). Otherwise, I’ll be looking spiffy in my new navy blue Kingsland competition jacket, worn over a lovely stretchy Equiline shirt with a…wait for it…Swarowski button at the neck and their blingy logo on the neckline. Heck, if we don’t bring in the marks at least we’ll look nice!

Of course, it isn’t just nailing the entrance that might be problematic. There are plenty of other pitfalls awaiting us as we power away from X, heading towards the eagle-eyed judges sitting in their little geranium-draped chalets. First of all, will Qrac enjoy the geranium-draped chalets? Will he not take one look at them and spin around, hot-footing it right back to A and beyond?  No, of course he won’t. I’ve visualized that part, too. In fact, I’ve visualised the entire program so many times that I’ll be seriously surprised if we don’t get around it relatively smoothly. The half-turn on the haunches right under the judges’ noses might be a bit dodgy; we’ll be coming in for it at a trot, transitioning into walk and immediately tackling the turn. Qrac has a very big, loose walk, so I need to really slow him down in front while making him quicker behind so he doesn’t turn with his hind legs sprawled out à la John Wayne, which I’ve been finding difficult in such a short space. The extended trots down the diagonal clearly don’t impress my trainer, but they feel great to me, simply because I know my horse is really trying, has improved immensely in the past three months, yet doesn’t quite have his balance yet in what isn’t his strongest gait.  Another iffy part is the walk to canter transition, where he tends to go croupe high, or strike off on the wrong leg, or not strike off at all, or a combination of all three. Once we’re in canter, we’re pretty much ok, and the extended canter is wonderfully exhilarating as he loves to stretch out and go go go, and (most times at least) doesn’t put up much of an argument when it’s time to come back to working canter. Mind you, throw in a couple of randomly placed geranium pots and we might be extending straight back to the trailer, scattering Swarowskis in out wake the way Hansel and Gretel scattered breadcrumbs. At least Marie-Valentine, my trainer, will be able to find us!

Speaking of my trainer, during my last session with her on Monday morning, we spent about five minutes working on my salute and laughing ourselves silly. Marie-Valentine deemed my first salute half-assed and wishy-washy, telling me to give it a little more oomph. I obliged, or at least I thought I did, but she doubled over clutching her sides; apparently the judges wouldn’t really appreciate the hint of a shoulder roll coupled with the eyebrow raise, and the theatrical, slow and posy, wrist-flicking salute (now where did that come from?! It’s so not me!). “It looks like you’re saying, `hi guys, get a load of this”!” she giggled. I got it right the third time.

Have Qrac and I been practising hard for the competition? I guess so, although I was out of action for a few days two weeks ago after Mr. Macho took out his irritation with a rival stallion by having a good crunch on my hand. I managed to ride again four days later, but then took another two days off to spend time with a girlfriend visiting from Ibiza. So far this week I’ve only ridden Monday, as when I arrived at the stables on Tuesday Qrac had taken an intensive mud bath in the field, was plastered from nose to tail and sporting mud-encrusted dreadlocks instead of a long silky mane.  All I could do was bring out the shampoo. I popped him in the solarium hoping he’d dry off quickly enough for me to get in a quick ride, but I ran out of time. On Wednesdays Qrac is ridden by a pro dressage rider, which means I’ve only got Thursday, Friday and Saturday to work on our program.

Am I nervous? Strangely enough, so far I’m not. Not massively nervous, anyway.  In fact, it’s kind of weird because I’m almost looking forward to it. Since this will be our first show, I’ve no idea how Qrac will react; but am hoping that he’ll behave as wonderfully as he did a couple of months ago when I trailered him to the German part of Switzerland for a lesson with one of our top riders/trainers. My horse backed calmly out of the van, stood quietly while I tacked him up with the help of a friend, and went straight to work in a totally foreign environment making no fuss at all. Ok, so there weren’t hundreds of horses prancing around, nor was it raining adrenaline. Still, I was impressed. The only thing that worries me is Marie-Valentine not being able to stand by me from the moment I arrive at the showground to the moment I enter at A. This venue has two arenas, and bad luck has it that not only is one of her other students riding the same program as me about fifteen minutes before I’m due in the arena, but that yet another will be riding two horses one hour apart in the Prix Saint Georges taking place in the adjacent arena at the same time as my baby program. We’re hoping to there will be a couple of last minute scratches, enabling me to ride two hours earlier and benefit from her full attention. Please, everyone, cross your fingers! I can’t do it without her, especially not the first time around! Well, maybe I can, but I’d rather not.

How about you.  Are you going to be competing this weekend? Or do you have any stories about going out showing for the first time? I’d love to hear them!

 PS: I tried to post photos of my new competition jacket, my shirt and my stockpin, but my computer is being silly and is pretending it can't find them. I'll try again later in the day!

  

Things I Do Wrong

                                               by Laura Crum

           

            The other day as I was feeding my horses and admiring what good shape they were all in, I had a startling thought. A lot of people would think the way I care for my horses is wrong—all wrong. And I decided this might be the basis of a reasonably interesting post. So here goes.

            I was raised in the horse biz by cowboys who fed straight alfalfa hay and shod their using horses as a matter of course. Large pastures were almost inevitably fenced with barbed wire, though most folks I knew were smart enough not to put horses in smaller barbed wire enclosures. The more enlightened also wormed their horses every six months or so and gave them tetanus shots once a year. The people I grew up with knew how to break a horse in the traditional way and they could teach an ill broke backyard horse to be a rope horse (sometimes). It usually wasn’t pretty, but a lot of the time it was effective. I was taught to warm a horse up thoroughly before I asked him to exert himself, to leg a horse up properly before I expected it to do regular hard work, and to monitor a horse’s breathing (by stopping him and watching the flanks) while using him, in order to be sure I wasn’t overusing him. We knew how to tell a lame horse from a sound horse and we didn’t ride lame horses. (Though we did bute them to make them sound and keep using them—sometimes.) I knew how to tie a quick release knot when I tied a horse up solid, and I knew how to make sure my cinch was tight before I mounted, and I was taught not to pull relentlessly on a horse’s face when riding. By the time I was a teenager I could ride a pretty snorty horse and get along with him. This about covers what I knew.

            In my twenties I worked on commercial cattle ranches, at mountain pack stations, and as an assistant to some well known cowhorse and cutting horse trainers. I rode a LOT of horses. I broke quite a few horses myself and helped train many others. I learned a few tricks and my riding skills improved. But for the most part, the things I listed in the above paragraph remained the basic bottom line of what I knew.

            In my thirties I trained team roping horses for myself and a few friends and competed at team roping. I learned a few more tricks and was actually, at this point, a fairly effective horse trainer. I wormed my horses every six weeks or so rather than every six months, and I knew all about vaccinations and how to deal with the more common versions of lameness. I no longer fed straight alfalfa hay as a diet. But still, the basic bottom line for me as a horseman was much as I described it above.

            In my forties I took a break from riding to have a kid and raise him. By the time I was fifty I was riding regularly again, this time with my kid—mostly trail riding. Around this time I started blogging and began interacting with other horse bloggers. And it slowly began to dawn on me that a great many people would think my basic bottom line of horsemanship was WAY off base.

            The fugly blog attacked people who kept their horse in barbed wire fenced pastures, even if they were large pastures (I began looking nervously over my shoulder when I fed my retired pasture pets). Many bloggers condemned alfalfa hay as being actively BAD for horses—and all my horses were fed at least some alfalfa every day. Tons of horse people seemed to consider shoes evil, and all my horses have been shod at one time or another for various reasons (and some are wearing shoes right now). The sort of traditional training methods I understood and used were demeaned as cruel by all sorts of folks who used “natural horsemanship” and “clicker training” and the like. People were also apparently feeding their horses boat loads of expensive supplements to address conditions I didn’t understand, had never heard of, and probably wouldn’t recognize if they presented in front of me. If I had paid serious attention to all this I probably could have convinced myself I was doing just about everything wrong.

            However, a lifetime spent with horses with mostly good results will (usually) give you a bit of confidence. I didn’t assume my methods were wrong just because a lot of other people seemed to disagree with them. Instead I started paying attention to what kind of results these “new age” horse folks were getting with their methods. And I wasn’t exactly impressed.

            I read blog post after blog post in which the blogger’s “kindly” trained horse disobeyed and resisted the blogger/rider in ways that were at worst truly dangerous and at best deeply frustrating for both horse and rider. My own traditionally trained horses continued to be excellent, reliable riding horses and seemed to like me just as well as the “kindly” trained horses liked their owner/riders. My horses were/are reprimanded firmly when they didn’t obey and they actually seemed to like this, too. So far, I wasn’t finding much reason to change my ways.

            If my horses had good feet, I often ran them barefoot, but I shod them if they seemed sore-footed, or were going to be ridden in the rocks or used very hard on abrasive sufraces…etc. My horses continued (and continue) to stay sound. Including into their barefoot, retired old age—after wearing shoes all their using lives, in some cases. I read blog post after blog post by “barefoot Nazis”, in which the blogger struggles with endless soundness issues with her barefoot horse. I’m still not finding much here to make me change my ways.

            And then there was the evil alfalfa hay. Not to mention the apparently even more evil molasses. Not only did all my horses get some per cent of their feed as alfalfa hay, but the equine senior feed that I had used (and still use) to keep my old horses healthy and happy into their thirties? The first two ingredients were alfalfa meal and molasses (the next being rice bran and beet pulp). Never mind that I had been feeding alfalfa meal and molasses to horses all my life to keep hard keepers and old horses in good flesh—with very good results. It was suddenly REALLY WRONG.

            I took a good hard look at my thirty-two year old horse, Gunner, who eats my equine senior delight feed twice a day. He is sound, happy, slick and shiny. Here’s a photo, taken a couple of weeks ago.

            This is the second horse I’ve taken into his thirties looking pretty damn good. My old horse Burt lived to be thirty five and was trotting about, sound, bright-eyed, shiny, and lively-- the morning he died of a major stroke. He ate the same diet I’m currently feeding Gunner. What more exactly do you want in the way of good results?

            In contrast to this I read blog post after blog post written by apparent nutrition experts whose horses were/are endlessly struggling with obscure diseases, lameness problems and behavioral issues, and rarely seemed to make it to their thirties, let alone stay sound and happy. I realize that luck plays a role, and I have lost horses before they were thirty, too. Nonetheless, I’d say my methods have overall had as much success as most folks—including those who damn alfalfa and molasses. Now this is not to say that all horses will thrive on alfalfa. But every horse I have ever owned has benefited from a certain amount of alfalfa in the diet. I have tried straight grass hay—and grain hay—and it just doesn’t work as well. Of course, if I had a horse that was allergic to alfalfa, I wouldn’t feed that horse alfalfa. But I have never had such a horse.

            Below you see my son’s horse, Henry, in a photo taken about a week ago. Henry is 24 years old and a completely sound, healthy riding horse today. He went through colic surgery when he was 20 to remove stones. (I bought Henry as a 19 year old, and previous to being with me, I’m pretty sure he ate nothing but straight alfalfa—which probably contributed to the stones.) Right now he eats a diet that is more than 50% grass hay. But he gets some alfalfa hay and some equine senior delight every day. On straight grass hay, which I tried, he didn’t thrive. I’m pretty happy with how he looks right now. In fact, I’ll match him for overall soundness and health against anybody else’s 24 year old horse.

            So far I have to conclude that my track record when it comes to having consistently sound and reliably obedient riding horses is as good or better than most folks, including the ones who brag on their extra-kind methods…etc. My horses look happy, and cooperate with everything I ask, whether its being caught, loading in the trailer, or going for a ride. My track record when it comes to shepherding my riding horses into a sound healthy old age/retirement is, again, as good as those who would castigate me for my old-fashioned choices of feed or the iron shoes I sometimes choose to use. Maybe I’m not doing everything entirely wrong.

            This is not meant as a criticism of those who use other practices—far from it. If what you’re doing is working for you, more power to you. But it IS meant as a defense of methods that are sometimes very harshly criticized. If you like to attack shoeing and alfalfa hay and traditional horsemanship loudly and vehemently on your blog, even though you’ve been in the horse biz a few years at best and have NEVER taken a horse into his sound, happy thirties (after a good long career as a successful performance horse who never once dumped his rider), then this post is meant as something for you to consider—not an attack on your own methods.

            So how about you guys? Are there others out there who don’t follow the new “wisdom” and find that their horses are consistently doing just as well or better than the horses of these more new age horsemen? Or am I just a lone wolf?

            PS—This blog post was written awhile ago—I put it up today because, being busy with 4^th of July family fun, I didn’t have time to write something new. I’m not trying to target any other blog in particular with this post—honest. But I have heard this sort of attitude (critical of traditional horsemanship and “old-fashioned” horse keeping methods) expressed many times over the years I have been reading horse blogs.

            Happy 4^th of July to all—keep your critters safe on this holiday which can be scary for animals and results in SO many lost dogs.

            

The loss of a great man.

By Terri Rocovich

On the evening of June 27th, the equestrian community lost one of its greatest pioneers, friend and advocate. Dal Scott, father of the writer we know and love, Michele Scott, passed away peacefully last Wednesday surrounded by his beloved family.

What some of you might not know is that Dal Scott revolutionized the equine care industry with the invention of the original Sports Medicine Boot (SMB). The first of its kind, the SMB is now commonly used across all equestrian disciplines and has protected the careers of many an equine athlete. This single innovation blossomed into the company now known as Professional’s Choice. Today Professional’s Choice is still considered an innovator and producer of some of the highest quality boots, pads, bits and other horse ware found in the equestrian products industry.

But that is enough about the company, I would like to tell you more about the man, his family and his legacy. I consider myself very privileged to have met Dal Scott, his wife Nina, daughter Michele, son-in-law John and Grandchildren Kaitlin, Anthony and Alex and daughter Jessica. Dal had a personality, sense of humor and charm that was larger than life and quite infectious. Although I did not see him often, when I did I always left smiling.

As many of you know, his daughter Michele is one of my closest friends and it is with her that Dal’s greatest legacy begins. Dal had an honest, kind and generous soul that he instilled in his daughter as well. He would take in any stray, 4 legged or 2 legged, that needed a helping hand and mentored many both personally and through the many scholarships funded by Professional’s Choice. Michele is one of the most fundamentally kind and generous people I have ever known, sometimes to a fault, and is always mentoring and assisting kids with horses and writers alike. She is my greatest writing mentor and continues to encourage and push me to reach my goals.

Her daughter, one of my favorite students, is cut from the same cloth. Kaitlin is sweet, kind, generous and loving just like her GrandDad. Dal was nearly as passionate about horses and making their lives better as he was about his family. Each animal in the Scott family, whether it is a horse, dog, cat, turtle or fish, is treated with the highest level of care and consideration. I have sometimes been accused of being a little “off” in my belief that animals should be afforded the same degree of respect and value as any human, unlike how most of the world thinks. When I got to know the Scott family it was nice to know I had kindred spirits in that belief.

As life goes on, the equestrian world will continue to benefit from the many products Dal Scott created as well as the multitude of riders and programs that Professional’s Choice sponsored and funded. One of the most moving tributes happened on Thursday at the opening ceremony of the National High School Finals Rodeo.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YH_LfdS-nc

Michele and her Mom were notified of the planned tribute and they watched it online that afternoon. It was incredibly moving and touched the hearts of all who knew Dal. Even now thinking about it still brings tears to my eyes.

Dal had a passion and commitment to horses in general and equine athletes in specific, and that same passion beats even stronger in the heart of his Granddaughter. Kaitlin has talent and level of focus and fervor for her chosen sport of Eventing that I have rarely seen in an 11 year old let alone an adult. I truly believe that Dal will be smiling down when we all watch Kaitlin compete in the Olympics some day.

I also think it is fitting that he passed so close to the 4th of July because Dal was an example of what anyone can achieve living in this country. He was a true American original. Dal took a great idea, mixed in perseverance, hard work and commitment and from it came one of the most successful equestrian products companies in the country. He was loved and respected by his employees as well as his competitors.

Professional’s Choice will continue to flourish in Dal Scott’s absence albeit with a twinge of melancholy without him at the helm. But they will proudly carry on his legacy with the same dedication and honesty that was Dal Scott’s. And although his loss will always be felt, his family will also carry on his legacy of love, honor, compassion, good works and integrity. It is the Dal Scott way.

As for me, I consider myself lucky on so many levels. Lucky to have known such an incredible person, lucky to use the many products he created and most of all, lucky to consider his daughters, granddaughter and the rest of the Scott clan as part of my extended family.

Power

Not as in "power to the people" or "girl power" (though we did see Brave last night--an awesome movie) but power as in "we lost power for  two days."  Anyone who loses power realizes quickly how dependent we are on electricity not just for our own comfort, but for the comfort or our critters, too.

Virginia gets many thunder storms this time of the year, but Friday night's was like nothing I have experienced before. The weather the past few days had been and has been n the high 90s, and very uncomfortable for humans and horses plus the flies have been HORRIBLE. (We've blogged before about flies but I have found no good solution other than putting them in the barn with the fan on and fly masks.)

Friends had arrived from Roanoke for the weekend with their kids, my son showed up, too, and we could see the storm over the mountains as we cooled off in the pool after dinner. The friends went in to shower and I walked the dogs down the drive before we went in for the night. The wind picked up, but suddenly, it whipped towards us, bending the trees almost in half. The dogs and I ran for the garage. The wind raged for almost three hours. There was lightning all around but little rain. Power quickly quit and we spent the night in the dark. (Those of you in tornado alley or hurricane areas who REALLY get storms, will be shaking your heads and saying "that was nothin'!")

The next morning, we inspected the damage. The roof will need replacing, and that's me looking at the mess in the pool. You can't see the millions of leaves and dead bugs, but lots of other strange things ended up in the water. No big trees fell down, just tons of limbs and leaves. The neighbors fared about the same, and fortunately, no animals were hurt, no cars smashed, no fences down and no houses blew away. In the middle of it all, the old cat died (we buried her in the garden); I sent the friends home without their fun weekend (awful to have company with no toilets!); and my daughter arrived safely having gotten the message NOT to drive Friday night.

Saturday was hot and sticky but we cooked on the grill and wisely we always have huge containers of water to help flush the toilets. The horses were okay without their fan, biding time in the woods with the deer flies. Another day and we would have had to move them to the neighbor's pasture which has a stream. We even jumped in the leafy pool (still icky after much skimming) after picking up limbs all day. I managed to find ice and water, cell phones still worked, we had gas in the cars, we took showers at a neighbors who had power, but no one wanted to spend one more night in the heat, which got up to 90 in the house.  And at 11:00 Saturday night when the power went back on, we (animals included) were jubilant to have running water, flushing toilets, and air conditioning.

This, however, was an annoying storm, not a disaster, and I can only imagine how devastating real disasters--floods, hurricanes, fires, tornados--are to humans and critters.  We were only somewhat prepared, and my first direction to my husband was "we need to get a generator."  I've read articles about the weather getting weirder across the US and the world, and my brother is battling the fires in Colorado due to lightning strikes. We all need to figure out how to be prepared for whatever happens.

 What disasters or annoying weather situations have you made it through lately? And how did you keep your animals safe? 

Fun With Funder!

                                               by Laura Crum

            I have been reading horse blogs for four years now—ever since I was invited to join the newly created equestrianink blog (thank you, Jami!). During those years I have gotten to “know” many other bloggers. I read their posts, I comment on their blogs, they comment here. Sometimes we start emailing each other. And now that I am doing facebook (I know, I said I never would, but my publisher insisted I had to), we comment on each other’s facebook pages. Some have become real friends. And once in awhile I even get to meet that friend in real life. After years of online friendship, this is a pretty big thrill. (I’m pretty sure that most of you out there know what I mean—having has this experience yourselves.)

            One of the blogs I have followed for a long time is Funder’s “It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time”, listed on the sidebar. When I started reading it, Funder lived in Memphis. Over the years she moved to Ohio, then to Reno, Nevada. Her horse Dixie went from being a goofy, green critter to a good endurance mount (completing 50 mile events). Funder chronicled all this with humor and grace, always keeping it real. Her blog became one of my very favorites. And she became my personal “go to” consultant for questions about the cyberworld and cyberworld relationships, since I am old enough and inexperienced enough in this area to feel bewildered a lot of the time. Funder has been a wonderful internet friend. So I was thrilled when she moved to San Francisco last month and we set up a date to meet.

            Schedules and such being allowed for, Funder drove down from her home to visit me here (near Santa Cruz, on the Monterey Bay) this last Weds (trip takes a little less than two hours). And when she got out of the truck, it was as if I’d known her for years. It was pretty amazing. And a great lesson in what cyberfriendships can create.

            We toured my humble abode and Funder met my horses. Here we are trying rather unsuccessfully to get Sunny to pose with us.

            Funder and a sulky Sunny.

            We talked about going for a trail ride then and there, but my local trails are thick with poison oak right now. I’m not very susceptible to the rash, but Funder was pretty sure she is, based on past experience. We agreed she would haul Dixie down at a later date and we’d ride on the (poison oak free) beach. Then we headed out for Mexican food and margaritas by the bay. Though since we are responsible adults (!) and we had to drive, we only had one apiece.

After coffee and lots and lots of yakking about everything and anything, we marched to the edge of a convenient cliff for a good look at the Monterey Bay, which Funder had never seen. Here she is, looking out at the blue, blue Pacific. If you look real close, you can see my reflection in her sunglasses, taking the photo.

            It was an absolutely lovely, breathtaking day. Sunny, brilliant, 72 degrees. I was so happy that Funder got to see my part of the world at its very best. Here’s what it looked like.

            And after that Funder drove home along the coast in the spectacular sparkling weather. I’m sure she saw some more lovely things. And I was really tickled that we got to meet and hang out. Can’t wait until she brings Dixie down to ride with me.

            So, fun with Funder was had—I absolutely couldn’t resist that title(!) I’m so glad we got to meet.

            

CRUNCH!

Exactly one week ago, my left hand had a close encounter with some big, yellow teeth. Yes, my horse bit me. Hard.

I’d never been bitten by a horse before, and the fact that it was my own, much loved Qrac who bit me hurt my pride almost as much as my fingers. In his defence I know for a fact that he wasn’t himself when he bit me. But when I pulled up at the stables last Thursday morning, all I saw was a horse fed up with the swarming flies, getting a little cantankerous with the horse in the field next to him.

I’ve led Qrac both in and out of his field many times in the past and he’s always behaved like a perfect gentleman. He’s always waited quietly for me to open the field, and has never tugged away until I’ve unclipped his lead rope. He’s never danced around me with excitement whether on the way in or on the way out.

So when I noticed he seemed a little fed with being outside, I immediately headed down to bring him in.

I knew things weren’t going to go as smoothly as usual the second I clipped on his lead rope. My adrenaline surged as I realized that the horse in the field next to him was also a stallion.

Seriously, what possessed the people at the stables to put two stallions in adjacent fields? And why hadn’t the electric current been turned on? Our fields are back to back, there is no security space between two horses, so if they start being silly or aggressive, chances are they might really hurt each other. I’ve never been too comfortable with this set-up, but that’s the way it is, and Qrac has never had a hissy fit or a willy waving contest with any of the geldings who have always been put out next to him. In fact, he’s always totally ignored them, going about his grazing and minding his own business.

But last Thursday morning someone screwed up and put another stallion next to him. The other stallion is much older than Qrac. He only arrived a couple of weeks ago, so I didn’t recognize him as I walked over to Qrac’s field, slipped under the wire and walked towards my horse with the lead rope.

Qrac let me clip it on without any problem, but it was when I began to lead him towards the wire gate that he lost his cool. The other stallion began trotting up and down the fence with his tail in the air, taunting him. Suddenly, Qrac rushed past me, slamming into the wire, then rushing backwards again, dancing. I should have let go, but I was worried about him racing around with the rope trailing, stepping on it and injuring himself. So I spoke calmly but firmly to him, struggling to unclip the bottom wire and then the top wire, while at the same time trying to keep an eye on my horse and shoo away the other.

It didn’t work too well.

One of my friends saw me struggling and rushed down to help me.

“Open the top wire,” I said, beginning to panic as Qrac pranced and danced.

She undid the wires. I got Qrac through, thought we were home safe, but the other stallion went ballistic, squealing and racing alongside us. Qrac spun around, I yanked the rope-chain with my right hand, yelled at him, but he’d forgotten all about me. Meanwhile, the two men who take care of the horses had seen what was happening and raced towards us, but they were a fraction too late. Qrac stood on his hind legs, boxed the air, I lifted my left arm to…well, actually I don’t know what I wanted to do…The next thing I knew he’d snapped at me, catching my left hand between his teeth. He didn’t let go right away, either.

I was shocked and scared and furious and, once he let go, tried to wallop him with the loose end of the lead rope, but before I managed to do so, one of the men grabbed it from me, yanked it a couple times, and led my temporarily demented horse back to his stable. Nobody realized he’d bitten me; it all happened so fast.

Frankly, I got lucky; I knew right away what could have happened, but still don’t want to think about it.

Feeling a little faint, I walked back up the hill and headed straight to the tack room/cafeteria, put my hand under the cold tap and stood there for ages. Qrac had nabbed me underneath my thumb, sinking his teeth into the side of my hand, crunching the fleshy part of my palm. Thankfully, I wasn’t bleeding, but nevertheless the skin was slightly scratched. Most worrying, my hand was swelling quickly and was throbbing like mad. Gingerly, I patted it dry, then swathed it in a thick, gloppy arnica gel. My friend rummaged in her first aid box and found a pre-packed cold, wet bandage which she wrapped around my hand. By now it really hurt, and I was beginning to worry that something might be broken.

Just then, one of the other horse owners, a doctor, showed up, noticed my haphazard, funky bandage and came over to see whether he could help. He examined my hand, made me move my fingers this way and that, checking for fractures and told me I’d been lucky, and that as far as he could tell, nothing was broken. He suggested I take an anti-inflammatory twice a day for a couple of days, that I go home and ice it, take arnica if I believed in homeopathy (I do) and see my doctor for an anti-tetanus shot as soon as possible, just to be safe.

By the time I got home the bitten part of my hand was huge. It was also an unpleasant shade of yellow, kind of like an uncooked chicken drumstick that has gone off in the heat. I spent the rest of the day alternating between nursing my hand under a bag of frozen peas, and slathering it with arnica gel. The arnica gel definitely helped avoid multi-coloured bruising, as over the next few days my hand remained a sickly yellow, whereas, presumably for circulatory reasons, my wrist turned blue and purple. The following morning, the hot doctor in my village (seriously, he’s really hot!) gave me an anti-tetanus shot ensuring a tiny, elegant colour coordinated bruise at the top of my left arm.  

Of course, I was out of action riding-wise for a couple of days, which totally sucked as Qrac and I are working towards our first competition, scheduled for the 8^th of July. Qrac had two days off, before being hacked out by another rider over the weekend. By Monday I felt a lot better, so scheduled a lesson with my trainer. My hand pinged a bit once in a while depending on how I moved my fingers, but overall I managed fine.

Has this incident affected the way I handle my horse? Frankly, I don’t think I’ll be taking him in and out of the field for a while; I’ll get one of the yard’s employees to do it. Chances are Qrac would be perfectly well behaved with me, but for the time being I don’t want any anxiety on my part unsettling him. He’s never showed any signs of aggression while being handled, he’s always been a very gentle, affectionate horse who loves being brushed and fussed over.

However, horses are horses. They’re big, they’re strong, they’re unpredictable and they can be dangerous. To complicate matters, Qrac is a stallion, and even though he’s been chemically gelded and is therefore far calmer than he was before he was vaccinated, rarely presenting any “stallion behaviour”, putting him in a field next to another stallion (or, heaven forbid, a mare!) is just asking for trouble. What happened last week taught me that because Qrac is a calm, gentle stallion, he’s even more unpredictable, since nobody expects him to get aggressive or “misbehave”. I’ll definitely be keeping all this in mind. And after this incident, I’ll also be far more motivated to have him surgically gelded this winter.

Have you ever been injured by a horse in a similar situation? What happened? How did it affect you?

Writing About Riding

                                               by Laura Crum

            I think most of the folks who read this blog ride. But I’m also willing to bet that most/many who read this blog also write. Perhaps you write a blog of your own. Perhaps you are steadily working on a novel you hope will be published some day. Perhaps you keep a training journal of your time with your horse. Perhaps you’re a published author in your own right. Maybe all of the above. But I’m guessing most people who read this blog write—and probably write about horses.

            Writing about riding is something I’ve done a lot of. My mystery series features an equine vet who owns horses and there are many riding scenes in the stories. Because the books must have an exciting climactic scene, there are a good many horseback chases in my novels, too. I have spent a fair amount of time dwelling on writing about riding.

            Trying to make the reader feel that he/she is there on the horse-- the rhythm of the gait, the mane blowing back, the wind in the face, the landscape flashing by, the trees against the sky and the scent of grass crushed under hooves. This is the stuff I work at.

            The truth is I began writing mysteries because I wanted to write about horses. I wanted to write about how it feels to ride. And I wanted to be published. I conceived the notion that I would write mysteries based on my career training and competing on western cowhorses of various sorts, just as Dick Francis had created his immensely popular mysteries founded on his career as a steeple chase jump jockey. And it worked. No, I did not become as popular as Dick Francis—not even close—but a publisher did buy my novels—twelve of them to date.

            And here I am going to deviate into self promotion and point out that if you are curious as to whether I was at all successful in writing good stories that convey what it feels like to ride western cowhorses (somewhat in the vein of Dick Francis), you can now buy my first eight mysteries for 99 cents each on Kindle. Here is the link. The order is Cutter, Hoofprints, Roughstock, Roped, Slickrock, Breakaway, Hayburner and Forged. The last four books are also on Kindle, but they are more expensive as they are controlled by my current publisher. But, in order, the last four in the series are Moonblind, Chasing Cans, Going Gone, and Barnstorming.

            Anyway, the topic of writing about horses and writing in general has been on my mind since I am currently teaching a class at our local community college called “How To Write and Publish a Mystery”. I taught this class many years ago (like twelve years ago—pre-kid), and was recently asked to teach it again. It was always a lot of fun, though, like most things I have done, it doesn’t pay all that well. To make a long story short, I agreed to teach this class again.

            And once again, the class has proven rewarding and fun to teach. I enjoy teaching very much and am constantly surprised at how much the adult students seem to take from the class. We are halfway through and it has been a great experience for me, and, I think, for all the class. The students have each produced a synopsis and an outline of their proposed mystery and are working on the first chapter, and all the concepts have been really interesting and well thought out.

            But here’s what intrigued me. These students have shelled out a fair chunk of both change and time to take this class, which is about writing a mystery. Some of them had actually completed manuscripts previously, but had never managed to get published, so wanted to refine their work. Others had “always wanted to write a mystery”, and had an idea of the book they wanted to write. And all this I understood. But there were a few who had never done much writing, had, in fact, “never read a mystery”, and had no idea what they wanted to write about. I was a bit stymied by these individuals. Why in the world would they choose to take a class like this? Some of them actually asked me how I got my ideas.

            I am pleased to report that to date all these students have come up with concepts, and all but one have been able to write a synopsis and at least the beginning of an outline and this last guy has now found an idea and is on track to planning his book, so its working out OK. But it still puzzles me. The whole reason I wanted to write books was because I wanted to write about the world of horses—a world I loved with an all-consuming passion. Without that drive to convey the horse world, I don’t think I would have had much interest in becoming an author. I chose to write mysteries because I loved to read mysteries and understood the form. If I had never read a mystery, I really doubt I would ever have tried to write one.

            In any case, I encouraged the students to think about their own passions—what did they really understand and love and want to talk about? And I encouraged them to read a few mysteries, so they could see what sort of thing a mystery was. And so far its going just fine. But I’m still a little puzzled.

            Do those of you who read this blog and also write yourselves approach your writing the way I do? I’m guessing most of you write about horses, as that is the theme of this blog. (And by the way, I was quite disappointed to find that not one student in my class had the slightest interest in horses—usually there is at least one that is drawn to my books for the horse element.) Even if your subject matter is not usually horses, is it something else you are passionate about? Do the ideas and concepts come to you easily? If you did/do have an interest in writing a book, would it be a mystery? If you have never read mysteries or been interested in them, would you take a class on how to write them? I’m curious. All insights are welcome.