What I Did This Weekend

I took the girls to the NW Mountain Trail Championships this weekend. Travis, my fabulous hubby, worked at the show to earn money toward my show fees. What a guy! Unfortunately, that means that I didn't get any new video, so I'm sharing this video from 2007 instead. More on the competition later!

Yes, I Buy Local

On Friday, one of my favorite bloggers--Mugwump--posted an article titled "Down Under Horsemanship? – I’d Rather Buy Local" by Janet Huntington. It really summed up some of my feelings about clinicians: their not good or evil, just an impersonal resource.

In fact, the article and the resulting comments really got me thinking about my own learning experience, and how fortunate I've been to have a qualified trainer to guide me on this journey. I was moved enough to submit my own comment on the blog. This is what I wrote...

I agree with [one of the previous comments] 100 percent--videos, books, and magazine articles aren't there to correct you or give you one-on-one attention.

About five years ago, I decided to take up riding. Fortunately, I was referred to a wonderful, local trainer who's both a good horsewoman and a nice people person. When I started lessons, I made a commitment to myself--to shut my mouth and open my ears.

When it was time to buy my first mule (after six months of lessons), my trainer chose a safe, broke, 14-year-old mule for me to buy. Six months later, we won our first blue ribbons at a schooling show. Within three years, Maxine and I were winning championship ribbons (and prizes!).

Now I have a second mule--a 16-month of ball of fun. I was there the day Madge was born, and I've been working with her ever since, under the close eye of my trainer. When it's time for Madge to learn significant tasks, I put her in training with my trainer. Smaller issues are addressed during my weekly lessons.

I can't tell you how much I've learned by having someone always by my side. Like [a previous comment said], I also hear my trainer's instructions in my head when she's not around.

When I ride at shows, I see a lot of novices [yes, I still consider myself a novice] with green animals, carrying the latest training toys. Many are going it on their own, learning from RFD and magazines. Some look at me like I'm crazy when they hear that I've been taking weekly lessons for five years. Of course, they're the same ones who "can't believe" I've "only been riding for five years."

During this time [with my trainer], I've watched a lot of people come and go [from my barn]. They question my trainer, bring her "amazing" articles, or simply ignore her suggestions. Why? Because so-and-so said they should do such-and-such. They go to clinics then gush about what they've learned, which is often the exact same thing my trainer's been trying to tell them for weeks.

Do I go to clinics? Sometimes. Either when they're a free part of another event I'm already going to visit or when my trainer is going to be there.

Do I learn from clinicians? Sure. I usually take home a good idea or two. Fortunately I'm able to realize that it's usually something that simply helped me realize what my trainer's been trying to get through my thick head for weeks. ;)

Yes, I love my trainer.

Photo: Max confidently crosses a bridge on the Banks-Vernonia Trail. The bridge takes riders over a highway, and I've never crossed it without at least one car driving under us. Thanks to my training, hard work, and Maxine's willing attitude, we conquer these types of obstacles with ease.

What a Difference a Day... Er, a Month Makes!

I know, it's been a while.

The last you heard about Madge was that she'd pulled away twice. Frustrated but determined to do what's best for our future, I put her in training the next day.

Needless to say, my trainer was ecstatic to begin working with Madge. On the first day of training, she lunged my girl near the barn. Her goal was to encourage Madge to attempt an escape so that she would learn that she could be controlled by humans. It was a success. Though she attempted to high-tail it to the barn, she was easily controlled and quickly learned the ropes. Pun intended!

My trainer worked with my girl frequently during the month. Madge got workouts on the lunge line and alongside the golf cart. It wasn't long before my trainer started working her with the long lines.

Travis and I headed out to the barn on her last day of training. I was so excited to long line Madge myself for the first time. The best part? Before the end of her lesson, my trainer and Emily fully hitched Madge to a cart! With Emily on the lines (walking behind the empty cart) and my trainer at Madge's head, they drove my girl for about ten minutes while I watched with a grin.

It's been more than a month since Madge's training ended, and I've been lunging her at the walk and trot during my weekly lessons. Once I get better at lunging, I'll start long lining her so she's ready to be hitched for cart work next spring when she's two. I'm really happy with the skills she learned during training. While she's still got spunk, she hasn't tried to escape once. *Knock on wood*

My trainer asked me to wait to canter Madge until we had use of a round pen. She didn't want Madge to get too excited and break away from me on the first attempts. This past weekend, I finally had access to a round pen in the warm-up ring at the Mule and Donkey show. I spent three days chasing her around the pen, giving the canter cue--to no avail. She was happy to canter on her own accord, but not on command. Finally, on the fourth day, Madge cantered on cue! She picked up the canter a few times on each side. Needless to say, I went home satisfied.

Photo: Long lining Madge for the first time. Well, my first time, that is!

I Did It!

This March I set a goal of riding Maxine bareback at a trot by the end of the summer. Last weekend... I'll just let the video speak for itself.

Update on Legacy

Legacy's front let is healing well, but his back leg remains slightly swollen. Fortunately, the swelling improves with activity, so he should completely recover in a couple of weeks. Send happy thoughts his way!

Tiffany gave me permission to post her photo, so here's my favorite shot from our ride.

When First Impressions Go Wrong

Recently, a gal I know through the local trail show circuit asked me to go on a poker ride. We'd never ridden together, but I've watched her compete at the shows for years, so I know she's a sensible, safe rider with a wonderful, calm Arab gelding. Needless to say, I was excited about the trip.

Since the ride was in Yamhill, the plan was for me to pick her up in Salem on the way. The night before the trip, I planned for an early morning:

• 5:15 a.m.: Wake up.
  
• 6:00 a.m.: Leave the house.
  
• 6:30 a.m.: Arrive at the barn to hitch the trailer and load Maxine.
  
• 7:15 a.m.: Back on the road again.
  
• 8:45 a.m.: Arrive at Tiffany's barn.
  

Since hitching and loading really only takes 20 minutes, I knew I had time to spare.

Unfortunately, this is how my morning actually went:

• 5:46 a.m.: Bolt out of bed when I realize that my cell phone alarm didn't go off (because it defaults to Mon-Fri).
• 6:30 a.m: Leave the house.
• 6:45 a.m.: Realize I left my trailer keys at home and turn around.
• 7:00 a.m.: Leave the house--again.
• 7:30 a.m.: Arrive at the barn where I slip and trip on every possible hole while I hitch up the trailer and load Maxine.
• 8:00 a.m.: Text my Tiffany to let her know that I'll be late, then hit the road.
• 9:30 a.m.: Arrive at her barn 45 minutes late. Ugh!

I'll admit, it wasn't the best way to make a good impression on our first trip together, but it gets better. I sealed the deal for the worst first impression award on the drive to the ranch.

As we were traveling on a back road between Salem and Newberg, we saw a man with a bike standing by the side of the road. He had a full black plastic bag sticking across the white line into the road. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal, but there happened to be a bus coming from the other direction at the same time. There was also a sedan about 70 yards in front of us.

As we chatted about the man's poor decision for being in the road, I sped up a hair so that I could pass him before the bus reached us. I was watching my mirror to make sure I cleared the cyclist when Tiffany calmly hollered, "Car!" The sedan in front of us was stopping to make a left-hand turn!

Letting out a squeak, I hit the brakes and watched us plow into the sedan--in my mind. Fortunately, the bus passed and the car turned in the nick of time. As I let off the brakes, I heard one of the animals stumble in the trailer. One of the horses had been caught off balance, but there wasn't any further scrambling, so we continued on to our destination.

When we arrived at the ranch, Tiffany led her horse, Legacy, out of the trailer. As she walked past, I noticed some blood on his leg. He had scrapped both his back and front legs on the divider that was between him and Max in my trailer (it's a full divider that goes nearly to the floor). As a result, he had an 8-inch surface wound on his front leg and a 2-inch surface wound on his back leg.

I apologized profusely and went straight for the Neosporin. Thankfully, Tiffany is a calm gal and quietly doctored the wounds without needling me about the situation.

Then, when I went to pull Max from the trailer, I noticed that there was blood higher up on the divider. I went back around to check and sure enough, he'd cut his lip as well. It wasn't a bad cut, but I was still heartbroken. I know I'm a safe driver, and I know that things happen, but I still felt horrible.

Fortunately, Tiffany was a good sport. She took care of his lip and we laughed at the irony of this being such a great start to our first trip together. I told her I'd understand if she never wanted me to drive Legacy again!

I'm glad to report that my luck changed at that point and the rest of the ride was fabulous! It was definitely the most challenging ride I've ever been on--lot's of steep, muddy hills--and Maxine handled it like a pro. Plus, Tiffany got along great and we're definitely going to go riding again soon.

Photo: Me and Max take a break during the poker ride.

Damn.

Madge got away again.

Last Saturday, I took Madge for a jaunt down the road in the golf cart. It's a great way to give her a good workout without having to tack up Maxine. It can be kinda tricky to watch the baby, steer the cart, and keep both hands on the rope for safety, but I've got it down pretty good. Or, so I thought.

We head down the road, away from the barn. Madge seemed perfectly content in an easy jog. Then, out of nowhere, she stopped and pulled back. The rope zipped through my gloved hand. I caught it at the last minute, jumped out of the cart, and gave her a firm swat on the butt to move her forward. After a quick adjustment, we set off again with her at a comfortable jog.

After we rounded the corner and were about 50 yards from the turnaround point, she pulled back again. Madge moved so quickly that, despite having both hands on the rope while driving, I wasn't able to keep a grip on the lead, and it slipped through my hands before I could bat an eyelash.

Madge skipped down the road about ten feet and then turned to face me. "Come, Madge," I chirped--fingers virtually crossed. She took a step toward me. Hopeful that she'd come to me, I stood calmly, waiting for her to bridge the distance. She turned toward the middle of the road and took a step--right onto her lead rope. Startled by the quick jerk to her nose, she turned and galloped around the corner toward the barn.

I stood--momentarily helpless. Then, I grabbed my cell phone and called my trainer back at the barn.

"Loose mule!" I hollered when she answered.

"Here she comes," she replied.

Hanging up the phone, I jumped in the golf cart and rounded the corner just in time to see her butt turn into the driveway and hightail it to the barn.

'ARGH!' I thought to myself. I knew this was bad. This was the second time she'd gotten away from me in a week and, as my trainer's mom says, three times and it becomes a habit.

"Looks like someone's going to get a few more miles put on," said my trainer, as she handed Madge's rope to me. "Madge deserves quite a workout for that!"

I turned the cart around and headed back toward the road, frustrated that I'd let this happen again. As Madge jogged next to the cart, I studied her movement, watching for any sign that would show she's up to no good. As I watched, I noticed that every time her gaze thoughtfully shifted to the left, she'd begin to slow up. That was the signal I was looking for.

Taking the wheel with my left hand, I shifted my seat so I could hang my right arm out the back of the cart. This placed my buggy whip directly behind her... behind. Each time her gaze drifted, I gave her a light tug on the rope and a firm tap on the withers.

The rest of the drive was successful, without one instance of her pulling back, yet I didn't go home content. I knew that while I'd won the battle, it was merely one battle in a much bigger war, and as much as I hate to admit it--even though there's no shame in it--I'm not yet experienced enough to win this war without the help of a five-star general.

I knew what had to be done.

"So, I found some money in my budget," I said to my trainer the next day. "I don't know what your schedule is, but would you be willing to take Madge in for training... tomorrow?"

"Yes," she exclaimed with a twinkle in her eye.

"I'll write a check today," I smiled, knowing I'd just hired my five-star general.

Photo: Madge smiles for the camera.

Baby's Birthday Escape

Last Sunday, May 8, I went to a local riding park with friends. On the way to the barn, I decided to take Madge along to celebrate her first birthday. She's been doing very well with her ponying, so I thought it was time to take her a little farther from home.

We arrived the park after an hour-long drive and I tacked up Maxine. Then, we were on our way.

We set off down the big hill toward the trail system. The trail we chose follows the east perimeter of the park. Reaching the end of the property to the north, we turned left and started up a very steep hill. This was a lean forward and grab the saddle kind of hill. I gave Maxine her head and let her find her way, trusting her to find the safest route.

Unfortunately, about halfway up the hill, Madge decided that she'd had enough. She planted her feet and pulled back. Not wanting to roll Maxine back down the hill, I let go of Madge's lead and promptly yelled, "SHIT!"

Madge relished her new-found freedom and set off down the hill at a gallop. Because the hill was so steep, I couldn't immediately set off after. Instead, I stopped a moment to assess the situation. After a quick survey of the setting, I settled on the various scenarios that I was likely about to face.

1. She'd turn around and come back.
   
2. She'd head back to the trailer and I'd meet her there.
3. She'd meet the cross fence, head up the next hill, and we'd catch her--eventually.
4. She'd meet the cross fence (which was barbed wire), not recognize it (because she's never been out in a barbed wire fence), and I'd spend the afternoon with wire cutters before dragging back an injured mule.

Prepared to deal with any of the four scenarios, however gloomy, I set off calmly down the grassy face of the hill we'd just climbed.

At the bottom of the hill, Madge saw the fence, rounded the corner, and came to a stop behind some trees. Her jet black body was hidden by the trees, but I could still see the red bareback pad I'd thrown on her for a little saddle training. I could tell by her reaction that loosing sight of the group took the wind out of her sails.

"WOOooo!" she hollered as she ran back up the other side of the next hill to the west. Fortunately, when she saw us, she stopped and started grazing.

As Max and I tip-toed down the hill--yes, Maxine actually has a "tip toe" command--I chirped, "Come, Madge!" I started teaching her this command when she was about two weeks old. I'd stand in one corner of her stall and call to her in a happy voice and she'd trot over for some lovin'

When Madge heard her name, her head popped in the air and she trotted over. I was so proud! Unfortunately, due to her relationship with Maxine "the babysitter," I couldn't get close enough to grab her lead from the saddle. After checking for a suitable mounting spot (there ain't no gettin' this hiney back into the saddle from the ground), I hopped off and walked up to Madge who stood still, waiting for some lovin'.

Crisis averted!

The rest of the ride went well. Maxine won my heart for putting up with it all, including Madge sometimes ponying with her head resting on Maxine's butt and the time when the rope got under her tail. Maxine hardy batted an eyelash. That's why she's still my best girl.

Photo: Maxine lets out a yawn after a long, hilly trail ride, while Madge tries to steal some attention.

Damn, I Forgot My Keys!

When I first started riding lessons, I always felt like it took forever to tack up the mule I'd be riding for the day. I didn't know what tack I needed to use, so I was always hounding the wranglers with questions, certain I was never going to know the difference between a Kimberwick and a d-ring snaffle. My favorite days were the busy ones when they'd just hand me a mule that was warmed up and ready to go.

Five years later, I've my own mini tack room in my trailer, which is parked at the barn. Armed with Kimberwicks, curb bits, three saddles, breast collars, cruppers, and the like, I can get Maxine ready to go for Western or English riding in fifteen minutes or less, including a light grooming.

Unless, of course, I forget my keys--which I did today.

"I guess I'm taking a road trip," said Travis, when I realized my main set of keys was still firmly attached to the belt loop of the pants I wore yesterday and the set that's supposed to be in my car hadn't made it back to the glove box since I'd borrowed them as a safety set for my last camp trip.

"Why are you taking a road trip," I asked.

"Because, all of you're tack's locked up," he said.

"No biggie," I replied. "I'll just borrow a saddle and bridle."

Saddle and bridle my ass (pun intended). Not only did I plan to take an English lesson today, I also brought my driving bridle and reins to long-line Maxine. That means that by the time the day was out, I'd borrowed a dressage saddle (boy, was it comfortable!), saddle pad, girth, bridle, crupper, spurs, surcingle, and driving whip.

Of course, since all of the tack was on loan, I had to take time to size everything to fit Maxine. This included trading bits on a bridle so the bit wasn't cinched up to Maxine's eyeballs. As I slowly adjusted the borrowed tack, I had flashbacks to my first year of riding when it took 30 minutes or more to saddle up.

Nevertheless, we had a fantastic lesson. We've been working on our English frame for the last few months and Maxine has responded beautifully. Her trot is so light and floaty that I've begun to call her the English mule disguised as a Western mule. And her canter, which I never thought would happen on both leads, is easy and collected most of the time. We're slowly working our way to 20 laps at the posting trot (five at a time) each lesson. As a result, Maxine is in the best shape of her life (and I'm slowly getting there, too). She honestly looks ten years younger than when I bought her four years ago.

After our English lesson, Travis helped me long-line Maxine and she did great. Max was very quiet and responded will to her lesson. It wasn't the first time with this new challenge, but she and I are still quite new to the cart world. My two-year goal is to have her driving a cart in order to extend her usability into old age. When you have a mule this fab, you do what you can to ensure that your partnership lasts as long as possible.

After we finished, I returned everything back to it's proper bag, corner, and peg. In the end, I'm kinda glad I forgot my keys, because I got to try a new saddle that I really liked. Plus, it gave me a chance to show Travis a few more things about tack fitting (four cheek wrinkles are bad!). Next time I'll remember my keys, but it's nice to know that even when I don't, we can still have a great day.

Photo: Maxine is encouraged to deepen her headset as she floats at the trot. Still, not bad for an old roping mule.

A Horsey Person's Worst Nightmare

Of all of the horrible things that can go wrong when you have equines, I consider equine theft to be one of the worst. With a mule as fantastic as Maxine, I do have my concerns when heading to bed at a show or campground. Now that Madge is getting a lot of attention, I know I'll be just as concerned about her.

Unfortunately, my fears aren't without merit, as a little girl recently found out. On April 8 or 9, her fantastic Tennessee Walking Horse mare was stolen. I don't know this little girl, but I sympathize. No matter where you live, please be on the lookout. If I hear any news, I'll post it here.

Travis, the Mule Skinner

In my experience, there are two kinds of horse husbands: those who couldn't care less about their wife's horsey lifestyle ("Can't I go fishing instead?") and those who are equally eager to slide into the saddle ("Aren't you tacked up yet?"). My husband falls somewhere in the middle.

Despite the fact that he's from Oklahoma, Travis is a true city boy. Whenever I dream out loud about living in a country paradise, he rolls his eyes and replies with thoughts about the reality of country living--muck and repairs. I sometimes wonder how I could I have married the only Okie who's not a cowboy!

Nevertheless, Travis has always supported my equine habits. When we're light on cash and I share my guilt about the board we pay for the girls, he's the first to defend the value of our mules. When Maxine gets a scratch, he won't rest until he knows what happened and how we can prevent it from happening again. If Madge runs out of alfalfa, he drives to the barn on his day off to make sure she gets a bail to accompany her regular grass hay. And each week, he dutifully helps me pack grain bags in our garage so they can be delivered on lesson day.

While he's always been of great support to me, I've noticed that he's become even more invested since Madge was born. However, I doubt it's just a coincidence. When Madge was born, she didn't start nursing right away. When I got the call that she had been delivered, I finished up a few things at work and headed down to the barn as quickly as I could. When I arrived, Travis was already under the mare, holding our new little girl, trying to get her to nurse. He struggled with her for over an hour--moving her head to the teet and picking her up when she fell so she could keep trying. As I stood there watching, I knew he was bonding with that little brat.

Nearly a year later, Travis and Madge have become quite the pair. He's learned so much about groundwork by helping me with her and he doesn't let her get away with anything. When she tries to catch him in a moment of weakness, he's often reacts with thoughtful discipline before I can even finish a sentence.

As you can probably tell, I wouldn't trade my city boy for any cowboy in the world. He provides the perfect balance of interest and disinterest. If I invite him on a ride, he's happy to join us, and yet he doesn't sulk if I want to go camping with the girls. Instead, he takes the opportunity to watch baseball and play poker with his friends. While he's still more comfortable in a baseball hat than a cowboy hat (even though he looks damn good in one), he's become accustomed to his barn boots. At this rate, maybe, just maybe, I'll convince him to move to the country some day.

Photo: Madge gives Travis some lip after a recent training session. While she's shedding out nicely and is freshly roached, Travis needs a haircut!

I Love My Blind Gimpy Mule

Last November, while riding Maxine through a dark parking lot after a show, I noticed something odd. As I asked her to walk behind my trailer, into a shadow, she became skittish. Try as I might, I couldn't convince her to ride into the darkness.

Frustrated, I dismounted and led her into the abyss. She was fine as long as I held her, but as soon as I moved away to put something in the trailer, she would nervously retreat to the barn.

"What's she scared of," asked Travis.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "She's probably faking it."

Personal observation: Maxine is a smart girl with a knack for tossing in an occasional stumble during lessons in an attempt to get out of work, or she'll throw out a shoulder in order to pick up her preferred lead at the lope, even if it's not the one I asked for. Needless to say, I wouldn't put it past her to fake a mood to get back to her hay-filled stall as quickly as possible.

This past February, I was once again faced with untacking in the dark after a show. As we rode out to the trailer, Max refused to continue into the darkness without me on the ground by her side.

Later that evening, I mentioned it to my trainer as we were rehashing our day. Without hesitation, her mom suggested that I have her eyes checked--just in case. Knowing that she has a sixth sense when it comes to equine behavior, I made a mental note to call the vet.

Back home, time passed quickly, as it so often does. I still intended to call the vet, but it had not yet made it to the top of my priority list.

Then, as I was untacking after a lesson, I noticed that Maxine was shying away from the tack room of the trailer. Each time I'd pull her close to the door so I could remove her bridle, she'd quickly, but gently, pull away. It was a bright day, making the tack room seem dark and ominous--much like the shadows a the last two shows.

As I did my best to convince her that she was safe, I looked closely at her left eye and noticed silvery strands through the middle of her pupil. Needless to say, I called the vet right away, despite the fact that by this time I had a good idea of the prognosis.

This Friday, the vet confirmed my assumption--Maxine has cataracts. While they have started in both eyes, the one in her left eye is farther along and has begun to affect her sight. According to the vet, it's like she's looking through a windshield that's has a rock thrown through it--some spots are normal, while others are restricted. Fortunately, she can still see and, according to the vet, should have limited sight for years. However, it's likely she'll eventually go blind in one or both eyes, should she live long enough.

While the prognosis isn't ideal, and there's no solution other than prevention, I'm glad to know what I'm dealing with. I know she definitely needs reassurance, not discipline, when faced with dark areas. My trainer will help me teach her cues that will assist her as she slowly looses her sight. And, it's likely that the pain she's had thus far, if any, has been managed by the daily dose of Bute she receives to manage her ringbone, which she was diagnosed with last year. That's right, I have a blind, gimpy mule.

Through this, I've been comforted by an old memory. As a kid, my mom took me to ride horses on the beach in Bandon, Oregon. One of their best horses was totally blind, yet she could safely take a beginners because she trusted her rider. I have a feeling that like that blind horse, Maxine will continue to be fantastic--with or without sight. I eagerly look forward to our continued adventures together.

Photo: Maxine braves the waves at the beach. She wasn't gone in the water yet, but on our last trip she got within a foot of the incoming waves.

Baby's Day Out

Last Sunday was a big day for Madge. We took her on her first trip to the local riding park. Sure, she's been away from the barn before for a few shows, but this was her first official trip on the trail.

I wasn't too worried about her behavior, because she's proven to be a very well-behaved girl when she's in halter--thanks to hours of ground work over the past ten months. However, I did bring Travis along to have an extra hand, just in case she got loose.

Travis and I loaded up the girls at the barn with no trouble. Madge started riding in the trailer with her mother when she was barely three months old, so we've never experienced any trailer problems with her. *knock on wood*

After an uneventful drive with a full load (we had Maxine and Belle in the trailer, too), we arrived a the park. There weren't many people there, so I parked the rig and headed back to unload the girls.

That's when I noticed something amusing. Every other person in the parking lot stopped what they were doing to watch us unload the trailer. As they leaned in to chat with friends, I could hear their conversations in my head: "I wonder what breed they have?"; "Is the handler any good?"; "Are they going to step out nicely or shoot out of the trailer like a rocket?"

How do I know what they're saying? Because, I do the same thing--we all do.

Confident in Madge's training, I opened the window, clipped on Madge's lead line, and unclipped the trailer tie. It was her first time in the rear stall, and I didn't want her to back out by accident, so I asked Travis to hold her by the window while I opened the door. Then, I stepped inside and backed her calmly out of the trailer.

Success!

Emily arrived a few minutes later and we tacked up the girls, including Madge. This was her fourth time with the bit and she's holding it well, thanks to a tip from my trainer. Molasses is your friend!

After a quick warm-up, we were off. I'd like to say that I have something more exciting to tell you, but it was a relaxing, uneventful ride. We passed a few people on the trail, said hello to a couple with an exited (but tightly held) dog, and even ventured a few steps into the river. Madge accepted it all like a seasoned veteran.

Toward the end of our ride, while we trotted through the field, I noticed something curious about Madge--she kept her eye on Maxine the entire time, as if to ask, "Am I doing it right?" She's so damned attentive!

To be honest, that's the biggest personalitly difference between Madge and Maxine. As wonderful and broke as Maxine is, there's always a little piece of her mind that's thinking about something else. Each ride I have to work to get her full attention, which could take five seconds or 15 minutes depending on her mood. Madge is the exact opposite. Except for bouts of youthful vigor, Madge's focus when in halter is always on her handler--human or mule.

"How'd it go?" Travis asked as we returned to the trailer.

"Great," I replied. "She didn't bat an eyelash at anything. Not even the meandering bridge with no rails."

"Did you expect any less?" he asked.

"Not really," I smiled.

Photo: Madge plays with her bit as we get ready to head out on the trail.

Making Dreams Come True

Other than a few minutes atop my friends pony when I was about ten, I've never ridden bareback. As someone who took up riding later in life, I often envy those who got to spend hours of bliss riding atop the furry backs of their childhood equines. There's no substitute for the experience--and fearlessness--one gains as a young rider.

I've always considered the though of riding Maxine bareback. However, it was always one of those thoughts I never quite took seriously. "Sometimes I still lack a little confidence in my English saddle, so how could I handle riding bareback," I'd say to myself. "Besides, I don't know if she's ever been ridden bareback, so it might not go well."

Then on day, as I watched my friend effortlessly hop aboard Maxine while we putting up our mules after a ride, my thoughts turned to desire. It was obvious that she had no problem with a bareback rider, so it was up to me to take the next step. That's when I set my goal to ride Maxine bareback--at the walk and trot--by the end of the summer. (We'll leave cantering for later.)

When my husband asked me what I'd like for Valentine's Day a few days later, it didn't take me long to answer...

"I want a bareback pad."

"You want a bareback pad?" he asked.

"Yeah, a bareback pad," I replied.

"Why do you want a bareback pad?"

"To ride bareback, silly. Besides, they come in red and if you spread them out they kinda look like a heart, so it's perfect for Valentine's Day."

"But, where can I find a bareback pad?"

"Check the bookmarks on the computer, Sweetie."

"Of course, why didn't I think of that." *eye roll*

After dropping my not-so-subtle hint, I wasn't too surprised when I opened my Valentine's Day gift, but I was definitely ecstatic to see that Travis had fulfilled my wish.

The next weekend, I took my precious gift to the barn. After a feisty English lesson--Maxine recently had a flake of alfalfa added to her daily diet, so she's been a little head strong lately--I threw on my new pad and exchanged her Kimberwick for her curb bit.

I passed my trainer as I walked to the mounting block.

"Well, here goes," I joked. "Hope I don't kill myself."

"You'll be fine," she replied. "Though, I do want to compliment you for changing into a stronger bit first. That shows good horse sense."

Personal observation: There's one thing I know for sure--a fool and his horse are soon parted, I try my hardest not to be the fool!

As Maxine stood quietly at the mounting block, I swung my leg over and gently lowered onto her back. With a easy leg cue, Maxine eased forward into the walk, and I didn't fall off! Yippee!

Grinning from ear to ear, I giggled every time my weight shifted as Max turned a corner. With no mane to grab for security (dang mules!), I definitely had to rely on my seat and legs for balance. Comfortable, but not completely secure in my seat, I decided it that I'd save the trotting for later. For now, I would simply enjoy the fact that I was halfway toward my goal.

After about 15 satisfying minutes, I dismounted, gave Maxine a peppermint, and thanked her for making yet another one of my dreams come true.

Photo: Me and Maxine on our first bareback ride.

An Ass-tastic Trail Ride!

Is there anything better than a sunny winter ride? Not much, in my book. Today, I was fortunate to ride with with some of my favorite trail buddies.

The best part? Travis got to join us for the first time! For the first ride out, he was lucky enough to ride my trainer's mule--a world champion mule that is a dream to ride. For the second ride, I let him ride my dear Maxine, while I borrowed a friend's fantastic draft mule.

The second best part? The horseback rider was the odd man out--outnumbered by five mules and a donkey. Needless to say, it was a very uneventful trail ride, which is always a good thing.

The only bad part? My best riding buddy couldn't join us, because she was at work.

Personal observation: Where are her priorities?!?

Fortunately, we'll have many sunny Sundays to come! Of course, I'm not a fair-weather rider, so any given Sunday (or Friday, or Saturday--or "sick day") will do.

Photo: Me atop my friend's fabulous draft mule, Molly. Finally, a mule that makes my butt look small!

You Don't Know It ALL!

I was a horse-crazy child. I drew horses in fields, I drew horses flying through the clouds... heck, I even drew a horse brushing it's teeth once. I read every horse book and magazine I could get my hands on. Whenever I could, I'd use horses in my school assignments.

My parents were not horse people. The chance of me getting a horse as a child was about as likely as winning a gold medal in dressage on a miniature donkey. Of course, you can't blame them. We lived in town and they didn't have a horse-keeping background. Our way of life simply didn't jive with horses.

To their credit, they indulged me whenever they could. Each summer they'd take me on a rental ride to satisfy my growing desire. We even took the mules down the Bright Angel trail at the Grand Canyon--the trip that sparked my love affair with mules.

Throughout grade school I was ecstatic just to talk about horses or play "horsey" in the backyard, so when I met a gal in my class who had a horse, I was over the moon!

Personal observation: Actually, it was a Shetland Pony, a breed that a friend of mine lovingly refers to as "bastard ponies." Nevertheless, her little bastard pony was the Black Stallion in my young eyes.

Unfortunately, she was not the sharing type. Instead of indulging my fancy, she constantly held the fact that she had a horse over my head. She'd hardly even let me touch her Breyers, let alone her precious pony! I was simply a horseless loser who couldn't handle the responsibility of horse ownership.

As an adult, I find it interesting how these seemingly insignificant situations we face as children sculpt our minds for the rest of our lives. By middle school, I was convinced that I wasn't a horse person. By high school, my interests had turned to music and cars. It wasn't until my mid-20s that my passion reignited, but I was still convinced that I wasn't a horse person.

Fortunately, a friend and coworker reintroduced me to the horse world at the ripe ole' age of 32. It hit my like a hoof to the back of the head--I can be a horse person! Why? Because this wonderful friend indulged my fancy and let me touch her horses.

Once the fire had been kindled, my entrance into the equine world came quickly. Within a year, I had purchased my first mule, Maxine. My parents thought I was moving too fast. My friends were surprised and a little confused. My husband? Well, thankfully my husband got it and gave me his blessing from the start.

Personal observation: Yes, he's wonderful. *swoon*

As I navigate through this horse life, I often think back to the horse-crazed fourth grader I once was. Sometimes that leads me to think of my know-it-all friend who talked like she was queen of the horse world.

Recently, my Mom gave me a photo of my on my friend's feisty mount that, in her father's words, "took forever to warm up so that the kids could ride him." When I saw that photo for the first time, a rush of vindication swept through my veins. You see, Little Miss Know-it-all had forgotten one highly important piece of tack called a curb chain. No wonder it took so long to warm up that pony!

Was it her fault? No, it's likely that her parents did the tacking up. Does it make her an idiot? Hardly, we were just kids. It simply goes to show that sometimes people have a much bigger influence over our lives than we'd like, even when they don't know any better. The truth is, it's best to just ignore the naysayers. They might be missing their curb chain!

Photo: Me riding my friend's bastard pony. Ironically, we seem to have the same mane!