A Strut Through the Forest

Qrac and I went for our first outside ride together yesterday. I say together because he’s already been on a few outside rides with one of the stable’s grooms, who reported him to be no trouble whatsoever.

“He’s very well behaved,” she told me when I enquired after her first foray with Mr. Caliente into the great wide open. “He calls a bit, but most stallions do. But he’s not scared of anything. He’s just very, err, very active.”

Uh oh, I thought. “Very active? Very active how?”

She smiled. “Let’s say he’s not interested in looking at the flowers, or taking in the view. He’s a bit of a Speedy Gonzalez.”

Not wanting to ask too many questions and get myself into a tiz-waz over my new horse’s increasingly evident desire to go forward, I left it at that. In the two and a half weeks I’ve had him, it’s pretty clear that Qrac is no plodder, and I’ve a feeling I’ll be doing transitions until the cows come home. Not that I’m complaining; I already love him to bits and have never felt as though he’s going to pull a nasty on me. He’s laid back, but with a big engine. And lots of stamina. He feels as though he could go on for hours. His forwardness doesn’t change between the beginning of a session and the end. It’s impressive.

Anyway, since I don’t really know anyone at my temporary stable, and that my reckless days are long over, I asked the groom to take him out a couple more of times. She went out once with another gelding, then with a gelding and a mare, then all alone, and each time Qrac was very well behaved. “He’s just very active,” she said nonchalantly. “He doesn’t drag his feet.”

Finally, I decided it was high time Qrac and I went for an outside ride, so I asked her whether she’d come along with us. She was happy to do so, and yesterday morning, made sure she saddled up a very chilled gelding. I climbed up onto Qrac, and off we went. Err, actually, off we pranced!

And would you believe the train came by as soon as I got on? It’s only a little train, but it’s right there, uber close, and it chose that very moment to choo-choo by. And then two teenagers on souped-up mopeds started zooming backwards and forwards, skidding around in the dirt. Yes, on my first time out with my horse. Typical. But Qrac wasn’t prancing because of the train (which didn’t seem to perturb him at all), nor was he freaked out by the souped-up mopeds. He was prancing because he wanted to go off into the forest with his buddy. So we pranced a little, and everyone watching the jumping lesson in the outside arena turned to look at my beautiful black stallion making a bit of a spectacle of himself, which was a little embarrassing. Then we pranced-sashay-clattered across the railway tracks, and once we got to the other side he immediately settled into his cruising speed, which I’d describe as a strutting power walk. Yep, this guy means business. He was on the bit, he wasn’t spooky, and I felt perfectly fine, but his energy level came as quite a surprise, especially after years of relaxed ambling along country trails with Kwintus.

Forty-five minutes later, we strutted back across the railway tracks, thankfully without too much show-offy prancing this time. However, Qrac couldn’t resist announcing his return with a loud whinny. Over by the jumping arena, a gathering of little girls from the pony club stopped eating their ice-creams and gasped with admiration. “Look, it’s Qrac!” they gushed. “Il est tellement beau! (he’s soooo beautiful!)

Qrac tossed his long black mane, Pantene-style. My new boy is hot, and he knows it.

Taking a Break

by Laura Crum

Lately I’ve been feeling a little burned out. Between finishing my twelfth mystery novel, keeping up with my son’s homeschooling, trying to get the spring garden in shape, doing the inevitable and necessary housework, and riding the horses at least a couple of times a week, oh, and did I mention I have a new puppy? Well, between all that I’ve gone into overwhelm. I don’t mean I’m having a nervous breakdown or anything, just that its been harder to feel very joyful. And this is too bad when you consider that I very much enjoy every single thing I’m doing. I just don’t enjoy them all at once, all the time.

I’m especially sad that I’m not enjoying the horses as much as I usually do. The new puppy’s demands for attention have really eaten into the little free time I had for messing with the horses. (Though the puppy herself is a delight--still, a lot of work, as all puppies are.) Not to mention the time I’ve spent pushing to finish the book. And paradoxically, once I get out of the groove of regular riding, I find it harder to enjoy the little bits of riding I’m able to do. I can’t explain it—I just notice its true.

So, I’ve decided I need a break. Time to shake things up a little. I’m mailing my completed manuscript to the editor today, and next week I’m departing on an open-ended camping trip, complete with dogs and family. Don’t know exactly where we’re going, except it will be south and east of here. Somewhere in the red rock desert. Don’t know exactly when we’ll be back, except it will be before Memorial weekend. I won’t be connecting to the internet, so no email or blogs. I hope to see some interesting things.

The only downer about this plan is that May is a lovely month here—my roses are looking wonderful, my horses are shedding out and looking pretty again as well. But I really do think I need a change of pace. My friend/boarder, Wally, is going to live here while we’re gone and take care of everything, which makes it possible for us to leave. So, anyway, I’ll post again when I get home, and I wish you all much fun with your horses in the meantime.

Cheers--Laura

How Little I Know About Horses

My mystery Shadow Horse was given a brief review in the March issue of Equine Journal and the editor was nice enough to send me a copy. It's been a while since I read a horse magazine from cover to cover, and even though I have been riding and caring for horses for decades (that's me doing what I do the most with my gelding Relish), I realized as I flipped through that what I know about horses could fit in a bucket compared to how much there is to know which appears to be an ocean.
There were articles and ads for a breed of horse called Gypsy Vanner, a draft type with gorgoeous black and white markings and flowing white feathers. Huh? I've never seen one, and all I could think of was the time needed to keep those feathers spotless in this mucky spring weather. Next a blurb for 'pasture in a box' caught my eye. It's a system for growing your own forage. What? Is this what they mean by "I'll do anything for my horse?" Actually, what I really thought was that I bet all I would grow is dandelions.
The next article "Chore Busters" had me drooling. Now I want a pasture vacuum, a UTV and bedding sifter. An article on horse manes got me worrying that my gelding's out-of-control hair-do dos not enhance his conformation, and another article on insurance had me wondering, "What insurance?"
Worse were the ads for barns that had more square footage and expensive hardward and siding than my house, trailers that had more appliances than my kitchen and bath, and products to treat problems I'd never heard about.
The most serious and enlightening news, however, was an article about parasite control. Prevention is hard enough--bot flies are ferociously determined in Virginia--but after reading, I am now paranoid that since these cringe-inducing parasites are developing resistence to de-wormers, I'll be spending my spring not riding, but battling roundworms and pinworms along with the stinkbugs and Japanese beetles that love my gardens.
Okay readers--fess up. What is it that you don't know about horses?

Introducing Qrac de la Font

It's all been a blur. A whirly, sparkly blur! It's been kind of tiring, too. Who knew acquiring a new horse would be so time-consuming? And I’m not just talking time spent with my new horse, but also running around, picking up things that Qrac desperately needs, because although I thought I had enough horsey equipment to cater to an entire polo team, it turned out that I didn’t have a second light cotton blanket, and that Kwint’s girth was too long, and that Qrac could do with over-reach boots, and the lunging-girth-thingy I’d bought (it’s called a surfaix in French; what’s the English terminology?) was way too big, and the draw reins (for lunging, not riding) were not the ones my trainer had in mind, and I was out of saddle soap, etc., etc. Naturally, all these realizations came one after the other on completely separate days, not simultaneously, and, since not all tack shops are created equal, necessitated trips to tack shops spread over two cantons.

Then there have been the niggling anxieties that come with getting to know a new horse. Does my saddle really fit him properly? Qrac is spectacularly short-backed, and very uphill, and my saddle seemed to be constantly slipping backwards because the original girth I was using was a little too long. Worse still, I was cantering around the arena the other day when it suddenly slipped sideways, which was a horrible sensation since I barely knew him and didn’t know how he’d react! Panic stricken, I coaxed him to a somewhat ungainly halt, dismounted and put everything back in place. Qrac didn’t seem overly perturbed. In fact, he doesn’t seem to be overly perturbed by very much, which is reassuring.

Nevertheless, I’ve yet to venture into the big wide open, limiting to my riding to the large indoor arena, although one of the girls who works at the stable took him out for a hack last week and said he was no problem at all. I’m hoping to meet someone to go out hacking with me as, for the time being, I’m too chicken to go alone. My trainer has been amazing, practically holding my hand for the first couple of days, making sure Qrac was comfortable, that I was comfortable, that we were all comfortable together. Transitioning from a horse as gentle, knowledgeable and laid back as Kwintus is a little intimidating. Although Qrac is laid back and very gentle (he loves being cuddled and fussed over), he’s still a stallion, and when we unloaded him from my trailer on arrival from the south of France he was very full of himself, very “ladies and gentlemen, here I am”, swaggering down the central aisle of the stable block like Ricky Martin entering the stage at the beginning of a concert. He was pretty vocal, too!


Yet by the following morning he had settled down nicely, and proved to be wonderfully obedient on the lunge, listening carefully to voice commands and doing exactly what I asked. I rode him for the first time on Monday, two days after he’d arrived, and enjoyed a lesson with my trainer. Again, Qrac showed no signs of bad behavior. Unfortunately, his teeth seemed to be bothering him, so Marie-Valentine
called the “super dentist” and managed to arrange for him to come last Thursday, which was super lucky as this guy is booked up months in advance. It turned out that poor Qrac hadn’t seen a dentist since he was two, and needed extensive work, which put him out of riding action for four days. His face was really sore and swollen, and he couldn’t wear his bridle, so I just lunged him in his halter, which was fine.

By Monday morning he’d made a full recovery, so I had my second lesson with my trainer. It was great! He’s an interesting horse to ride, ever so different from anything I’ve ever ridden before. He’s quick and nimble and very eager to please, yet tends to rush a little, so I’m forever half-halting, trying to bring him back into balance. The left lead canter is pretty good, but the right lead canter is seriously hard work because, apparently, according to the man who stabled him in the south of France, Lusitano/Spanish riders only work the bend on the side where the mane falls! Qrac’s mane falls on the left, hence his preference for bending to the left. I’d never of this concept before (only working a horse on his “natural bend” side), and neither had my trainer. Have you?

So that’s my Qrac news. By the way, someone asked me how you pronounced Qrac, suggesting it might sound nicer in Spanish than it does in English. Well, Qrac (whose full name is pretty posh: Qrac de la Font) is a Lusitano (Portuguese breed), yet he was born and bred in France at the Massa stud farm (which looks like an AMAZING place; I’ll have to go and visit one day). In fact, Qrac’s uncle (or is half-brother? Anyway, some close relation) Gallopin de la Font, is the only Lusitano to have qualified for the Olympics (the link is to his performance in Beijing in 2008). So Qrac’s name is pronounced with a French accent, quite similarly to how we English mother-tongue people would pronounce “crack”, yet with a subtle but very important difference. The “r” is more guttural, and the “a” is more…high-pitched, making his name come across as lighter than the way it does in English! It also rolls off the tongue more quickly, if that makes sense, and generally somehow sounds nicer in French. Also, the word “crack” in French horsey lingo means “champion”, and the only difference in Qrac’s case being that his breeders spelt it slightly more funkily to fit in with the year of the Qs.

Here is a little video I found of Qrac on the internet, filmed at a horse salon in Lyon (or maybe Paris?) when he was five years old, and beautifully ridden by one of the Massa breeder’s trainers, who seems to have no problem whatsoever with the right lead canter! Grrr! I’ve scheduled another lesson with my trainer for tomorrow morning, and am hoping to get him moving just as nicely for me at some point.

Have a great weekend!

Looking Past the Ears

by Laura Crum

Between weather and busyness, we haven’t been riding a lot for the last month. Maybe twice a week at best. The occasional trail ride or beach ride, mostly short rides in our riding ring. The picture above was taken when we rode to the Lookout over a month ago (the view past Sunny’s ears is of Monterey Bay).Yesterday we went up to my uncle’s place to help gather the roping cattle for the first practice roping this spring. That was a blast. But overall, we haven’t been doing much. At times I feel almost guilty, as if I “ought” to be doing more with the horses. I turn them out most days to graze, and the horses seem perfectly happy. I enjoy our short relaxing rides when I get them, and both Sunny and Henry behave well and move out freely. But some sort of Puritan work ethic makes me feel bad about not doing more, or I hear about what someone else is doing with their horse and I am envious (that’s the bad thing about these horse blogs—you can always read about someone who is doing much more with their horses than you are doing with yours). I really know better than this—but I still fall into these traps. And then I got a reminder of what its really all about.

Last week we had a little boy over to visit who had never been to our place before. He’s part of my kid’s homeschool group, and a very sweet, smart, interesting child. I’ll call him Sam. Anyway, as I usually do, I offered Sam a chance to ride a horse (with his mother’s permission). Sam had never ridden a horse before and was very excited.

I have a simple protocol for this. Kids are only allowed to ride Henry, my son’s bombproof gelding. And they must wear a helmet. We all go down to the barn and I catch and saddle Henry, explaining to the kid how to “be” around a horse. No running, no shouting, don’t approach the horse from behind, listen to me and do what I tell you at all times…etc. Henry is actually proof against most anything, but I want to teach the right behavior. My kid models brushing the horse and our visitor gets to brush him, too.

Then I put my son on Henry and he rides his horse up to the riding ring and demonstrates a little walk, trot, lope. The visiting kid stays with me and I point out just what my child is doing to control Henry. If the kid seems keen, and Sam was, I put the visitor up behind my son on Henry (if they’re small enough) and let them walk around like that so they can get used to the feeling of being on a horse without thinking about anything else. And then I ask them if they want to ride by themselves.

Sam was very eager to do this. I legged him up on Henry, helped him put his feet in the stirrups (which have tapaderos—very important), and showed him how to hold the reins. I explained how to steer Henry, how to get the horse to move. I told Sam to hang on by the horn, not by the reins or his heels—under all circumstances. Sam’s face was bright, eager and attentive. And off we went—with me at the end of the long, slack leadrope, walking along beside him.

This is how I give kids their first ride. Henry has done it many times and knows what I am up to. He knows he’s supposed to obey the kid on his back—that I’m just there for backup. And this is important, because though Henry is safe, he is not above walking over to a patch of grass and putting his head down—which is way more than any first time kid rider can cope with. So I make sure this doesn’t happen.

Anyway, I’m following Sam along and I look up to see how he’s doing. And you never saw such a lit up face. He was positively incandescent with delight. “Do you like it?” I asked.

“This is so much fun! Its so cool just to be here on his back, looking past his ears. Its great!”

Well, I grinned and we went on, but his words stuck with me. Because I feel the same way. To this day, even when I’m so busy that I hardly have time to ride, when I do climb on my horse just to walk him around the ring or go for a brief trail ride, I have that exact emotion. This is so much fun. Just being on the horse’s back, looking past his ears at the world ahead. Feeling him carrying me along. Even if I do nothing but walk around my riding ring for ten minutes. I just love it. I hope I always feel this way.

And I realized (yet again), that its time to let go of comparing myself to others and worrying about what I “ought” to do, and simply take pleasure in the joy that horses bring me. If puttering around my riding ring on Sunny’s back looking at the roses on a spring day contents me, that’s great. Same for gathering the roping cattle and going on a short trail ride with my son. Not very exciting stuff by some standards, maybe, but if it brings me joy then its good for me. I need to remember this (!)

So today, in honor of Sam’s words, here are some recent photos showing the view from Sunny’s back, looking past his ears.

On a spring trail ride, along a rather overgrown trail.

Looking across the big meadow—gathering cattle at my uncle’s place.

On the beach, looking at my son on Henry and our friend, Wally, on Twister.

At the Lookout last fall. My kid is resisting having his picture taken.

Looking down at Sunny.

How about you guys? Do you love those “ear views”, too? And do you, like me, get sucked into guilt and envy in your “horse life” more often than you would like?

Do Ponies Ever Grow Up?

I had always dreamed of owning property with acreage so that I didn’t have to board my horse, Goslovich. I didn’t necessarily enjoy “visiting” him at a stable. I wanted to see him every day, all day, if I wanted. I wanted to keep him home with me, to be the one who fed him, and to be able to walk outside my front door, hand him a carrot, and say hello. That dream finally came true about 10 years ago when we first moved into our current home, several days before Christmas. For me, it was the best Christmas present ever – to pull the horse trailer up our driveway and unload Goslovich into a pasture that would serve as his forever home.

Wanting to share that dream with my 4-year-old daughter, and to give her something I had only wished for as a child, I set out to buy her a pony for Christmas. What girl wouldn’t want a pony to wake up to on Christmas morning? Every girl’s dream, right? Of course she was excited and loved the pony. What’s not to love? But there are varying levels of love and excitement – and duration. I’ve come to the realization, 11 years later, that Elena liked the “idea” of having a pony more than she actually liked having the pony. She did eventually inherit a horse and do some riding, but she lacked that intense passion I have for horses.

At her request, I have kept her pony, Hannah (and our other pony, Smokey). They have basically been pasture pets for the past several years and recently, I decided that their needs are going to come before Elena’s wants. The very thought of giving up a pet is troubling. They become a part of the family, bond with the other animals, and have a home. But, I do believe that there is something innate about ponies and their need to be around kids who adore them. Smokey used to be a summer camp pony for kids, and Hannah “lights up” when she sees a little girl. I imagine that ponies are like the toys in the movie Toy Story - they never grow up and always want a kid to play with them. Our ponies had been moved to the top shelf and I was about ready to take them down and dust them off.

Surprisingly, during this dusting-off stage, I realized that part of my reluctance to give up these ponies didn’t have anything to do with upsetting my kids or keeping the ponies as part of the family, but my own reluctance to accept the fact that my kids are growing up. Ponies stay small forever, have a youthful quality about them and “talk back” in their own special way, just like a kid. Although Elena has a youthful quality about her, she isn’t small anymore. Just this year, she has surpassed me in height. She is only 14 years old and now 5’9 ½” tall - and growing. It is slightly unsettling looking up to my daughter, literally. She is finishing up her first year of high school, part of the Associated Student Body, rows competitively, takes advanced placement courses, and actively researches colleges to attend. And, unlike what other people have told me to expect, this has been truly an amazing year. She wants to spend time with me and the family, appreciates and understands both the limitations and expectations that my husband and I have placed upon her, and is unbelievably confident and independent. I have grown to admire and respect her in ways I cannot even begin to explain. I could not have asked for more in a daughter – well, she could have enjoyed the horses a bit more.

As far as the ponies are concerned, it wasn’t as much trouble as I expected. I did find them a new home with a family that lives in the neighborhood. A young boy and his younger sister are now the proud owners of Smokey and Hannah. The ponies are happier, the neighborhood kids are ecstatic, and our own family transitioned well. I’m guessing that this was a warm-up exercise to bigger issues I’m due to face. Like moving the ponies to a new home, Elena will soon outgrow us and she will be off to college, ready to begin her new adventure with new friends and experiences that will shape her life and her future. And although we will always be home to love her with open arms, we won’t get to see her every day, feed her (more than just carrots) or say hello whenever we want. She will have grown up.

Yes, There is Hope!!!

Since Gailey’s been off work, I’ve been riding other horses around the barn in my lessons, both my trainer’s and boarders’ horses.

At first, I was really nervous riding horses I didn’t know. I’d ridden the same mare for the past 13 years. During all those years, I considered myself the luckiest person in the barn. Gailey was an exceptionally smooth horse to ride and sit. In fact, I’d go as far to say she was incomparable to anything I’d ever ridden. Yet, while her gaits made her extremely easy to sit, her other faults didn’t make her easy to ride.
Up until recently, I honestly didn’t have a clue how difficult she actually was. I assumed our problems were all mine, that I was just an awful rider, incapable of doing justice to such a wonderful mare. While everyone else in the barn would parade around with the countless ribbons they’d won, I’d slink off to my corner and lick my wounds, grateful I hadn’t finished dead last my respective class (though at times I didn’t even have that little triumph for comfort).

Over the years, I’ve come to believe I’m hopeless as far as ever being any good at dressage. After all, if I couldn’t do well on a horse like Gailey, I obviously didn’t have it in me to do well on anything. Besides, I knew I was uncoordinated. My body just doesn’t work the way other riders’ bodies work.
When I first started riding other horses, I’ll admit I fretted about making a fool out of myself. Everyone would see what an incompetent rider I really was. Yet, that’s not what happened. Somewhere along the line, I came to the startling conclusion I could ride other horses and do them justice.
The horse who drove that point home was Ciro. Ciro is owned by a wonderful woman at the barn who I’ve known for years. She’s one of those older women who doesn’t look a day over forty, a fact which I attribute to her long-time love affair with horses. She’s a doctor’s wife and is one the nicest, most down-to-earth people you could ever meet. She’s gone a lot, so Ciro is often available for lessons.
My fellow riders rave about riding Ciro, a Grand Prix level schoolmaster who is relatively bombproof. Last week, I had the privilege of saddling Ciro for a lesson, and it was a privilege.
My first realization Ciro was a different kind of horse came as I rode at a walk down the rail, I shifted my weight and legs by accident, and he went into a haunches-in. I re-adjusted my seat and legs and he travelled straight. I tried a shoulder-in and just like a well-programmed machine he did a perfect shoulder-in. No fuss, not struggle, just push the correct buttons, and he did the rest.

Wow. I was impressed. When I moved into the trot and canter, it was more of the same. As my lesson progressed, Ciro did everything I asked him, even things I didn’t realize I was asking him. We did counter-canter, changes, collected canter, etc. Everything was simple and straight-forward. You do this, he does that. I’d never ridden such an uncomplicated horse in my life. What a joy it was, and what a confidence booster for me.

And an eye-opener. You see, up until last week, I had no clue how complicated my mare really was. Now I knew. It took a horse like Ciro to drive home the fact that I wasn’t nearly as bad of a rider as I thought, and my mare, while I love her dearly, is not an easy horse to ride.

Armed with my new-found confidence, I’m looking forward to my next lesson on whatever horse I’m assigned because you know what? I really can do this.