My trainer took this photo a few days ago of Havoc, her 24 year old Thoroughbred. I can still remember how thrilled I was the first time she asked me if I wanted to ride him, twelve years ago. I leased him briefly before I bought Hap, and he is probably the best trained horse I have ever ridden. I still go back to him occasionally as a schoolmaster, because if you can’t get Havoc to do something, it is definitely operator error.
My trainer took this photo of me riding Hap yesterday, on a beautiful spring day. There were still a lot of soggy places in the arena, but the footing wasn’t at all slick.
They said the storm would be over by 6:00 am this morning. They lied. But the horses were okay when I tossed them their breakfast, and not even as peevish as I would have expected.
I thought I would be able take some cool photos of drifts this morning, but the wind chill is about 10 degrees Fahrenheit, and not conducive to fooling around outside with a camera.
Click on the photo for a higher resolution.
Frequently, after I ride Hap, my 20 year old Thoroughbred gelding, my trainer gets on him for what she calls a pony ride. This saves her the trouble of getting a horse ready to ride, and keeps her hand in, so to speak. I like it because it is the only chance I have to see Hap looking as good as I think he feels when I ride him. Although one or two people ride him occasionally, he is never quite as relaxed for others.
I first saw Hap when he was eight: the woman who had evented him brought him over for me to try. When I saw him, I thought he was skinny (because he was at the weight they like for eventing) but sort of cute. When I rode him I immediately thought “I want this horse. This is my horse.” I almost gave her a check on the spot so she wouldn’t put my horse in the trailer and take him away. I was more worried about what might turn up in the pre purchase exam than the seller.
That feeling never left, not even when he had me so intimidated that I had to ride him every day because I was afraid if I took day off I might not be able to force myself back on him. The trainer I had at the time insisted I would never be able to ride him in a snaffle. Hap had one strategy for dealing with life’s little fears and frustrations: grab the bit and run forward. It took me and my current trainer eighteen months to get him to give to the bit and not lock everything forward of his shoulder. For years I thought that he was like the little girl who had a little curl: when he was good he was very very good, and when he was bad he was horrid. I even used to worry that he might be getting sick on the very good days.
He looked so good with my trainer today that I went and got my camera from the car and took some snapshots. As I joked to my trainer afterward: twelve years and we finally got him broke.
Yesterday, after working Lily in the round pen, I watched the horses for a while before going back in the house. Smoke and Lily started playing their usual game. For the first time I recognized the game Smoke, at least, was playing: Steal the Mare. Geldings in mixed herds will occasionally try to form their own little harems, keeping “their” mares separate from the rest of the horses. Lily seemed perfectly willing to participate, cheerfully flirting, as long as she didn’t have to actually leave Rags, the third horse in the little herd. Her stride is longer than Smoke’s was two decades ago, so it was entertaining to watch her lope along beside Smoke being careful not to run faster than him, before ducking back to Rags.
Although this is the equine equivalent of the octagenarian chasing the cute young nurse around the hospital bed, I am happy to see that 28 year old Smoke feels good enough to attempt it. I am also glad to see that Lily enjoys the game, since mares can be nasty if they think they are being bothered by a gelding.
While I worked with Lily on Sunday, Smoke hung over the side of the round pen to see if looking cute and alert would get him a treat.
It did.
Last week, I decided it was time to start working with Lily to get her legged up a bit, before I put her back to work under saddle. We’ve had a round pen to the east of the house for years, but I have rarely used it except for temporarily confining a horse where I could see it from the house. It seems almost odd to be using it for its traditional purpose.
I don’t want her to run around like an idiot in the round pen (and possibly reinjure herself) so I am using clicker training to reward her for trotting forward in a sensible manner. Since she likes to trot with her nose four inches off the ground, I click her (and give her a treat) when she carries her head with her poll slightly above her withers, as in this photo I took yesterday. (For the non-horsey set, the poll is the spot between the ears, and forward means energetic without rushing.) Eventually, I will only reward her when she lifts her forehand a bit more, and takes more weight on her hindquarters, but right now my reward criteria are sensible, forward, and poll above the withers.
She doesn’t seem at all upset that her nine month long convalescence is over.
Occasionally, I get a pain in the neck. I’ve had the tendency for close to twenty years, but the spasms are infrequent enough that I don’t think of myself as having a “bad neck.” I have to be careful about several motions, including stretching and reaching overhead. (I have a Rubbermaid step stool in the kitchen, craft room, and downstairs so I never have to do so.)
Continue reading Hap Massage
This weekend was hectic, becaue I spent approximately 20 hours working as Registrar at COSine, so I didn’t really have the time to worry about Smoke until Monday morning.
I noticed he was acting a little oddly when I fed Sunday morning. (Saturday night I was too exhausted to have noticed anything short of horse being down.) He left some crumbs of his chow after breakfast, which he never does if he has enough time to eat. However, he was about as bright-eyed as a 28 year old horse gets, so I decided to worry about it Monday. Monday morning I found email from Jack (who had considerately not awoken me) that Smoke had once again failed to clean up all his food when Jack let horses out of their stalls Sunday night.
Continue reading Smoke
Hap is officially 20 years old today, since Thoroughbreds’ birthdays are considered to be January 1st of the year they were born. (He was actually foaled in May 1985.) I rode him yesterday, and he sure didn’t feel like an old horse after we jumped a little cross rail and in his enthusiasm he decided to run away on the backside. I had to use a pulley rein for the first time in a long while: not a very elegant solution, but it works. Most of the time. The rest of the session he was lovely: after twelve years together we have each other pretty well trained.
I was riding during a lesson being taught by my trainer. I was happy that I was able to keep up much better with the others than I expected, so I am gradually getting back into shape.
Considering the other horses the same way, Rags is also 20 today and Lily is eight. Smoke, born in 1977, is an increasingly creaky 28 years old.