No Excuses

Ransom studying hard for the trail test

The summer has flown past, and it’s Ransom’s birthday again! I can’t believe he’s already six. Horses reach physical maturity in their fifth year; it’s a lot like turning eighteen – you’re officially an adult but still have a lot of growing to do. Now that he’s passed that landmark, I feel like my “he’s still a baby” excuse has expired.

The perfectionist in me didn’t realize how much I used Ransom’s age as a crutch to avoid responsibility for his training and behavior. “He’s not accepting the bit? Oh, he’s only three. His stop needs work? He’s just four.” Training actually has little to do with age. I’ve known twenty-two year old horses who were emotional wrecks, and three year olds who had a good mind. Young horses just haven’t had the time it takes for growth.

Ransom’s youth was my go-to justification when I was worried about what others thought about his behavior…and therefore me. Frankly, it’s uncomfortable to admit that Ransom’s progress depends on my skills and knowledge, even though I know a lot. The truth is: my experience is the limiting factor, not his. I fall into the trap of expecting to reach milestones at certain ages because I’m comparing myself to others.

Ransom and I will always be a work in progress, at our own pace. I don’t need any excuses to enjoy the journey. Year six will be the best yet!

(See also The Equine Identity  Feb 10 2013)

Moments of Brilliance

Horseback riding is like math. The more you learn, the more you realize you that you didn’t know as much as you thought you did. The learning comes in layers as you break down a big concept into smaller parts until all the simple pieces start to make sense in the context of the whole.

Ransom and I are somewhere in the middle of this muddle of knowledge. We’re revisiting the basics armed with additional education, and somehow it’s hard all over again. For example, trotting – not complicated, right? Ransom and I had a half hour conversation about trotting rhythm today. His manual transmission lurched from slow to spurts of speed. Off the circle and onto the straightaway – speed up. Half halt. No you can't stick your nose out. Pick up the reins to yield to the bit – diversionary tactic: speed up. Hold, hold, hold, release. Leg pressure applied to balance his shoulder in the corner – speed up. Half halt. Slow down. Finally a soft, cadenced feel…for two strides.

Each day there is a moment of brilliance, and I’m impatient to string those moments together into a superhorse. Some days I’m overwhelmed by how far we have to go. I have to keep reminding myself that it doesn’t happen overnight.

Back in the Saddle

I’ve noticed a disturbing trend in conversations with the non-horse public. Whenever I mention that I work with horses, the other person launches into their horse experience horror story, which often ends with: “I’m terrified of horses,” or “I’ve never ridden a horse since.”

It’s true that horses can be unpredictable and dangerous, but I find that they’re rarely to blame. “The horse bucked me off!” is usually translated as “It crow-hopped and the cinch was loose so my saddle slipped.” Or, “The horse bolted out of control!” really means, “It started trotting and I lost my balance.” Ferreting out the details provides a different picture to the horse savvy. “Oh, you were riding backwards? Bareback? No helmet? Mmm."

It makes me sad that so many people have had a negative experience doing something that I love, simply due to unsafe situations and lack of knowledge. When my sister’s boyfriend visited this week, he had a similar tale of woe.

“What happened?” I asked.

“My friend and I rode double on a horse bareback, at night. When the horse started trotting, we fell off onto cobblestones and I impaled myself on my friend’s elbow.”

Jonny rides again!

My solution? Have him ride Ransom, of course. It’s my personal mission to replace negative horse experiences with positive ones. So out at the barn, I round penned Ransom to take the energy edge off and evaluate his frame of mind. Then, with helmets on, we rode in a controlled space. He even trotted a bit.

“So next time someone asks you about horses, you’re going to tell them about this amazing appaloosa and how much fun you had, right?” I prodded him.

He smiled and nodded.

Field Trip (Literally)

On a beautiful Saturday morning my co-workers, Alana and Jamie, and I loaded our horses up for field trip to Alana’s new ranch. Her sixty acre property backs onto regional wilderness land filled with trails. Ransom hopped in the trailer like a gentleman and we were off. I was grateful that my little two horse straight load trailer tracked so well behind the truck as I followed Alana down the narrow road with no shoulder. It was only a short drive, but Ransom was covered by a sheen of nervous sweat by the time we arrived, rubbing off foam onto the padding of the trailer.

With the ordeal of the trailer trip over, we tacked up and headed up the hot golden slope behind Alana’s house. Ransom was borderline buddy sour as the three of us trekked through the hills, and the flies were atrocious. Alana and Jamie had come prepared with fly masks, but poor Ransom had to deal with the irritating bugs for most of the ride. He was on edge enough that I couldn’t quite relax. But as I dealt with his misbehavior, I knew this was a good learning experience for him.

We still had a blast. After climbing to the peak and enjoying the views, we took a nice hand gallop up a flat trail and visited a nearby water trough. Ransom sloshed away, happily splashing Smokey, the striking paint with two blue eyes, and Sienna the golden girl.

After a fun afternoon, we returned home just in time for a cold shower and dinner, for horses and humans.

A Little Boy and Basketball

The therapeutic riding program I work for has a thorough checklist for horse candidates to pass before qualifying as safe and sound mounts for the kids. Though Ransom is firmly on the personal side of business and pleasure, that list gives the two of us lots to work towards.

The therapy horses undergo extensive desensitizing since games and props are a big part of lessons for kids with special needs. In preparation for my two young cousins coming out for pony rides, I decided to see what Ransom thought of the basketball set-up we use for the kids. I threw the small balls at the hoop hanging on the fence, at the ground, and at him. Ransom didn’t bat an eye as the balls rolled under his legs and bounced off the backboard. However, he wasn’t thrilled about taking hits to his head and ears. Even though the balls were soft, he shook his head in irritation each time I chucked a ball in that direction. Calmness, check. Tolerance…needs work.

But a few weeks later, he stood like a rock while little Mason shot hoops from his back. While Ransom may not be destined for therapeutic riding, kids are a big part of his education and his future.

Drugs and Dentistry

Drugs and dentistry just go together – whether it’s numbing your mouth to pull a tooth or putting you under to extract your wisdom teach. Fortunately, when I was a kid, going to the dentist was a positive experience. We got to pick a prize out of the treasure chest if we were good and Momma always took us out to lunch afterward.

Ransom just had his first visit from the dentist (at least since I’ve had him). He too had a positive experience, thanks to a sedation “cocktail” that put him in a happy place. It wasn’t long before he stood with legs splayed, body swaying, and head propped up in a sling with a metal contraption to keep his mouth open. At five years old, Ransom now has all his permanent adult teeth, so there was lots of work to be done.

I’ve watched equine dentists before, but learned even more while Rich worked on Ransom. After floating the sharp edges off Ransom’s molars, filing his canines, and smoothing the hooks developing on his incisors, Rich put “bit seats” on Ransom’s first lower molars by rounding the tooth edge. The folds of skin in the corner of a horse’s mouth press against the first molar from the action of the bit, and a sharp tooth can cause discomfort.

When Ransom was conscious enough to make the trek back to his stall, we departed. Still in a semi-drugged daze, his hooves dragged and his head hung low. But he perked up when his reward drove past – dinner.

Ransom and the Kids

Ransom switched stalls for a few days to accommodate another horse, and his temporary room assignment was at the center of the action of the lower barn. This increased visibility had all the kids I work with on Tuesday afternoons ogling at the unfamiliar spotted horse.  “Look, he has a moustache!” Jacob exclaimed as Ransom’s unclipped whiskers brushed his hand.

Emma brought carrots for the horses, and since the kids aren’t allowed to feed by hand, she tossed one in the bucket in the corner of Ransom’s stall. Ransom hung his head over the gate, eagerly looking for a treat, oblivious to the set-up of his new quarters. The kids tried to show him by leading a carrot in front of his nose down the bars and rattling the bucket, but still he stretched a friendly head out, clueless. Finally, Hannah pushed his head back into the stall and it occurred to him to look in the corner.

When we all sat down and started with the question of the day – “If you won the lottery for a million dollars, how would you spend it?” – Emma’s answer was, “I would buy a horse that looks just like Ransom, only smarter.”

While Emma wasn’t impressed with Ransom’s brains, Ashlyn was in awe of his spots. I knew she loved appaloosas and sure enough, she had zeroed in on him as soon as she arrived, going straight to his stall. She stood back and watched him as he rolled in his bed of shavings, unsure if she was allowed to approach. I recognized the longing in her face. I remembered what it felt like to be that girl, in love with someone else’s horse, thrilled by even the smallest opportunity to engage.

“You can pet him,” I encouraged her. She stepped forward, and Ransom reached out his nose into her hand.