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!