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.