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.