A Near Wreck

by Laura Crum

We had a sort of near wreck on our last beach ride, and though no people or horses were hurt (thankfully), it still got me thinking hard over what went wrong and how such things can be prevented. So today I’m going to share the story and see what you think.

First off, it was an awesome day for a ride. Sunny, sixty-five degrees, a little breeze. The horses all seemed to be feeling good, but showing no signs of acting up, as we headed off down the beach. The photo below shows Wally on Twister and my son on Henry and Sunny’s ears. Monterey Bay is on our right, the town of Monterey is in the distance.

We rode along for a couple of miles, our usual ride. Sunny and I waded in the water briefly—only ankle deep. I don’t like to go deeper because I have had the not-so-fun experience of a horse getting dizzy in the surf and almost falling down (this is very common, by the way), so I am cautious. Below you see Sunny starting in—I couldn’t take pictures after this cause I had to steer.

Wally rode Twister in deeper. Wally is much braver and more confident than I am, but this does not always work out in his favor, as the post will show. Twister has several times staggered and almost fallen in the waves, but Wally persists in making him go there. So below you see Wally and Twister.

My son has ridden Henry in the shallows before, but today was content to watch. It was a lovely day, bright and clear and warm. There was no one else on the beach. Many birds and sea lions to watch, and the light on the surf was just spectacular.

Anyway, all went smoothly and after a couple of miles we turned inland to take the path through the dunes back to the trailer. This is our usual “loop” and we do it partly because slogging through the dunes (for a short distance) is good for the horses and builds condition. Below you see Sunny following Twister down the trail. In the distance is the town of Santa Cruz and the mountain called Loma Prieta. (The local Native American name for it was Uminum, which means hummingbird.) This is the last picture I took, because after that things got a bit exciting.

Well…all of a sudden Twister stopped and stood still for a minute. No big deal. Wally and I both assumed he needed to poop or pee. But he did neither. My son and I caught up and were standing right behind him. Wally said, “Come on, Twister,” in a relaxed way, confident and unworried, as always. I wasn’t paying much attention, really, just waiting for him to go on, when I noticed Twister’s front knees buckling. He started to go down in front.

This caught both me and Wally entirely by surprise (as we discussed later). I wasn’t sure what was happening; Wally didn’t react much except to look puzzled. And Twister lay down on his side in a sand dune. Not good.

In another second Wally was coming off the horse and Twister was scrambling to his feet, and running off, obviously scared. My son’s horse and my horse were both spooked by these scary events and jumped sideways, away from the action. Fortunately both my kid and I were able to pull our always-reliable horses up quickly.

About a hundred thoughts ran through my mind as Wally landed in the sand with the horse on his leg. Would Wally be hurt, would he get hung up as the horse scrambled up, would the horse get hung up on the cable that bordered the trail, would the horse run off and …etc. Instinctively I did the only thing I could do. Pulling Sunny up, I said calmly (I hoped) to my son, “Just pull Henry up and hold still.”

This was easier said than done, as Twister was scrambling down the dune and running away as I spoke and our horses found this upsetting. But like the good horses they are, they held it together. Their eyes were big, their heads were high, and they snorted. But they stood still.

Our stillness was eventually observed by Twister, who coasted to a stop about sixty feet from us and looked back. “I guess I really don’t want to leave you guys,” was written plain on his face.

At this point I looked at Wally, who was still lying in the sand. “Are you OK?” I asked him, again, I hoped, calmly. Wally is 78 years old. The horse had gone down on his leg; I was afraid it might be broken.

“I’m fine,” he said, and got up and walked toward Twister.

“What about your leg?”

“He lay down right on my foot, but the sand’s so deep and soft it didn’t even hurt.”

Well, OK then. Wally caught Twister with no trouble, re-mounted and off we went. We had one minor setback when he realized he had lost his glasses in the fall and we had to go back and look for them. But we found the glasses and all was well. Glasses were undamaged and there was not a scratch or a pulled muscle on either horse or person.

But….obviously we were lucky. Both Wally and Twister could have been hurt. So I’ve done a little thinking about what happened and today I’d like to see if anyone else has any thoughts to offer.

First off, the biggest thing we were guilty of is complacency. Yes, we ride solid horses, yes, we’ve done this ride many times, yes, the horses were relaxed and quiet that day. But that still doesn’t mean we should go to sleep at the switch. Both Wally and I have seen horses try to lie down in loose sand before (they’ll also do this crossing water). We both know enough to get after a horse pretty smartly if he shows any sign of wanting to go down. But instead Wally simply sat there, doing not much at all, until Twister was already on the ground.

Now Twister has never done this before, or I’m sure Wally would have reacted quickly and firmly. But neither Wally nor I had any clue that Twister was thinking of this (he did no pawing), and when he actually started to lie down we both had the sudden fear (as we discussed later) that he was having a heart attack or some such thing. Wally simply didn’t think to give the horse a good hard boot and a loud “Here now!”, as he felt Twister’s withers start to drop. In hindsight, had Wally done this, Twister would no doubt have popped up and kept going and our near-wreck would have been completely averted.

In retrospect, hindsight being twenty/twenty, it seems obvious that Twister was itchy and wanted to roll. He is by far the hairiest of our horses and always gets very hot and sweaty on winter rides, while Henry and Sunny are just a little damp. In any case he showed no signs of a problem either before or after his little “lying down incident”, so he wasn’t colicked or in any sort of distress.

The ironic thing about all this is the fact that it happened the day I made a huge step forward in rider safety and being prepared for the unexpected. Yes, I’m talking helmet. Those of you who have followed this blog (and chided me) will be pleased to hear that your advice has had an effect. Several months ago I went shopping for a helmet and (when none of them fit) finally ordered one. After much delay (when the order was lost and then the helmet had to come from Europe) the helmet arrived last week—and it fit. This does not mean that I was thrilled with it—I am someone who never wears hats because they give me a headache. But I was determined to give it a try. Courtney King Dye’s story really hit home to me. Any horse can fall—I can’t prevent that. And I was beginning to have this niggling uncomfortableness with my bareheaded state on the horse. Perhaps because I am so careful that my son always wears a helmet. Who knows? But I actually felt a bit naked, though I have never worn a helmet while riding since I was a teenager jumping horses (and then it was one of those velvet hardhats). Still, it was this “feeling” more than logic, which convinced me I should get a helmet.

So for our beach ride last week, I strapped the helmet on (after whining that I didn’t need it with all the soft sand) and wore it the entire ride. And you know what? It felt good—like it belonged there. I think I’m going to be able to stick to it. However, one of my thoughts when Twister went down on Wally’s leg was “helmet wouldn’t have helped here.” Until I thought more about it and realized that if Wally had gotten hung up when Twister scrambled to his feet, a very real danger would be getting struck in the head by one of Twister’s hooves. A helmet would have helped with that, maybe. However, Wally is not going to be wearing a helmet any time soon. But I’m glad that I am.

Twister lying down unexpectedly like that illustrates the basic truth that even a solid horse can go down. Though Twister did not fall, any horse CAN fall. And though a helmet will certainly not prevent all serious/fatal injuries, it can prevent some. And the downside of wearing one is pretty small.

I did have a very tense moment when I worried that Wally’s leg might be broken. Twister was loose, and I still had my son and our two horses to take care of. How was I going to deal with all these things? As you can tell from the photos, there was no one else around. But I was carrying my cell phone and it gets a good signal at the beach. Though we were a couple of miles from our rig, we were actually not that far from another parking lot, and my husband’s workplace is not that far from the beach we were riding on. Here’s what I think I could have done. Called my husband and given him directions, let my son hold Sunny from Henry while I caught Twister, and then waited with all three horses by Wally until help arrived. Makes me realize how smart it is to carry a cell phone.

So how about you guys? Have you had a similar experience? Any one else’s horse ever try to lie down with them? How did you cope with it? Any other safety-on-the-trail tips you’d like to share?

On the Beach

by Laura Crum

The above photos show my son riding down the beach on his horse, Henry, along with our friend/boarder, Wally, on his horse, Twister. I’m not exactly in the photos because I was taking pictures from Sunny’s back (see the tip of his ear in the lower left of the first photo). The photos were taken last Friday, when we hauled our horses to the beach. We had, all in all, a lovely ride. The weather was in the 60’s, it was low tide (so much firm sand to ride on), and we watched great “rafts” of sea lions floating out beyond the surf break. We even saw a sea lion surfing. We rode down the beach for half an hour, headed in the direction of Monterey, and saw maybe half a dozen people the whole time. The horses were quiet and relaxed, even though they’ve only been ridden two or three times in the last month, due to bad weather. We mostly walked, did a little trotting and loping. I did not want to stress the horses after so much time off, and I have known many horses that have injured tendons in the beach sand. Both our horses cracked a light sweat: neither was really tired. So far, so good.

Then we turned around to come home. Now I have written quite a bit about my little “bombproof” trail horse, Sunny. And, apart from his steady, calm confidence outside, the other thing I have discussed is his need to play little dominance games. This trait has improved over the three years I’ve owned him, and Sunny rarely “tries” me any more. But on this day, after almost a month off, feeling good, on the beach, Sunny decided to test me a little.

Sunny’s “testing”, when I am on his back, usually takes the form of a certain signature move. I have a hard time describing this move, perhaps some of you may be able to tell me what the horse is actually doing. I have never been sure. I would call it a crowhop, except that his head, which is normally carried very low, comes up when he makes his move. He jumps forward, as if he were attempting to bolt, but at the same time, he hops his back end up in the air. The end result is as if your horse had just turned into a pogo stick. He bounces. Normally Sunny does this once, and then perhaps skitters a little, expecting my reprimand.

On Friday, however, as we turned around to head back down the beach, I had my camera held up to my face, trying to get another photo of my son. So my ability to correct Sunny was about nil. Sunny’s “crowhop” caught me by surprise, and for a few seconds my focus was not on the horse, but rather on getting my camera stuffed back in my pocket so I didn’t drop it. During the time it took me to accomplish this, Sunny essayed a few more hops.

By my reaction, you can judge that Sunny’s hops are not particularly unsettling, and, indeed, when my camera was back in my pocket, I addressed my bouncing horse with more annoyance than concern. “Knock it off, you little jackass,” I told him.

Sunny skittered sideways, expecting a reprimand. He knows quite well that he’s not supposed to behave this way. I gave him a good solid one rein jerk and he stopped bouncing. But he bowed his neck up and jigged.

Sunny is not a jigger, in general, but lets face it, he was feeling pretty good. I would love to have sent him back down the beach at the lope until he was really tired, but I did not want to hurt him. Also, we were supposed to get back at a certain time. So, I simply made Sunny travel through the deep sand. It took all of one minute for him to quit jigging and return to the walk. Way too much work to jig in deep sand. Sunny is not a stupid horse. Nor was he remotely upset or anxious. And we proceeded the rest of the way back down the beach in a long walk on a loose rein (on the hard packed sand), both of us relaxed and enjoying the scenery.

Henry, by the way, behaved perfectly the whole trip. All horses should be like Henry.

Anyway, I was patting myself on the back, thinking I had handled Sunny’s minor tantrum quite adroitly, when, just as we struck the trail through the dunes back to the parking lot, he spooked suddenly at a man sitting on a log. Nothing scary about the guy, particularly.

Now, Sunny does not spook often. In the whole three years I’ve owned him, he has spooked maybe half a dozen times. But when he does spook, it’s a pretty sudden, hard move. I had no trouble staying with him, but to tell the truth, it made me mad. I had the pretty clear conviction that the horse was not scared, just testing me again. When he made as if to dash away from the scary man, I gave him another good solid one rein reprimand. And he immediately dropped the “scared” behavior and marched on by.

In retrospect, I wonder if I should have punished the horse for spooking. Its not something I would normally do. However Sunny has a history of throwing in a bit of “testing” behavior right at the end of a ride. He also has a history of needing me to reprimand him, and prove I’m the alpha every so often. In the three years I’ve owned him, his behavior has gotten better and better overall, and about the only thing I have done is get after him when he tries something.

I don’t pick on Sunny; I don’t train on him. I’m not trying to teach him anything. I treat him kindly, and the “work” I have for him is both not stressful, and mostly to his taste. He knows how to do his job, and usually does it very well. I accept the fact that for some reason he needs me to beat him up a little from time to time and prove I’m boss. And that seems to make him happy, oddly enough. He has gone from being standoffish and hard to catch when I first bought him to meeting me at the gate and sticking his head in the halter these days.

For the record, I would never reprimand my sensitive, anxious horse, Plumber, the way I do Sunny. My responses to Sunny are geared to him and what he seems to need. I have written several blog posts on this subject, so won’t belabor it here.

In any case, we marched the rest of the way back to the trailer calmly, and both horses were their usual well-behaved selves for unsaddling and loading and hauling. I drove home grateful to have had one more pleasant, drama free ride with my son. My kid and I agreed that Henry was the best horse ever.

So here’s my question. I’m not particularly annoyed with my little yellow mule for his behavior, given he’d had a month off. It didn’t threaten me at all. I see it as testing behavior, and that he was looking for a reprimand, in order to feel that I was in charge. But I’m curious. Many of you are more accomplished horsemen than me. How would you have handled this behavior? More reprimands? No reprimands? Different reprimands? I’m curious. Do others of you have a good solid horse that likes to test you at times, and how do you handle this?