I have this problem.  It’s summer, and it’s getting really hot in the afternoons.  Too hot to ride.  I spent about fifteen minutes on Hickory one afternoon last week and came home with the next best thing to heat stroke.  No telling what that little ride did to him.

I’ve been putting the horses out on the grass early.  The big ones eat for two hours and get fat.  Hickory and Jetta can stay on the grass for five hours.  Well, Jedda could live out there and she might stop showing ribs, but there you are.  Anyway, I’d put them out at seven or so, let them stay out for a couple of hours, then bring them in, fed and full so I could bring Hickory in and ride him in the arena.  The “so” recognizes the fact that a fed horse is bound to be more easily focused than a hungry horse, and a horse with company isn’t going to spend your entire ride trying to escape back into the ranks.

And that worked in the spring. But now, it’s so hot at noon, I hate to leave the horses in that metal hot-box barn on that light colored heat radiating arena in the hottest hours of the day.  Grass is cooler.  But that leaves me with cool morning hours for riding and hungry, resentful, fustulous horses.  So I’m trying to work this out.

This morning, I let everybody out at seven thirty for an hour to take the edge off.  Then went back after my treadmill work-out and brought them in.  But that leaves only an hour in the afternoon, so that isn’t good either.  And anyway, by nine-thirty, when I finally had them in and had shoveled the jail and the arena, it was already hot.  Evenings, of course, don’t work because we get eaten alive. (Sullen eyes: I hate summer and I hate winter.)

But this is about this morning.  I rode Hickory for the 23^rd time today.  And for the first time, he bratted out on me.  So I’m writing about it because—because I have to tell the story, that’s why. 

I let him eat a little hay in the jail while I prepare things.  And I can saddle him without tying him up that way, which is nice.  He gave me only a token fuss about taking the bit – about five seconds of non-cooperation, then took it very sweetly.  And he was good in ground work – if typically reluctant.  I trotted him over my six poles, and for the first time, he took them like a poem – he was lovely, lifting his feet and flying over them.  Usually, at least on the last one, he drags and kicks the pole out of alignment and gets all bent out of shape.  But today – he was ace.

Then I circled him and had him take the one foot jump – heading west, he actually cleared it, like he didn’t have lead in his feet.  Going east, he refused it every time.  I kept at it, and he finally more or less trotted over it, which was weird.  But he didn’t knock the pole off.

He stood when I got up in the saddle and he didn’t fidget.  I sat there for a while, just kind of messing around, tightening the girth and patting and rearranging stuff.  Then I asked for the yield, which he does very well to the left.  The right side, however, is broken.  Even with a full cheek snaffle, it’s broken.  So we had to do it about two hundred times, and after that it was STILL broken.  But better.

We walked around the arena.  And then we trotted, keeping on the rail.  He’s responding pretty well to legs and rein.  And we did a lot of trotting.  He took the poles going south just beautifully, but his rudder got stuck going north, and we kept drifting off the poles in the middle.  Maybe it was that right side that was sick last night . . .

So we were doing fine.  Mostly.  He got a little fussy about trotting once or twice, but nothing really.  Then I asked for the canter.

Instead, I got a head.  Head came up (not hugely, not like it hit me between the eyes), and head went down.  I asked again.  That little hop he does, the toss of the head and the sitting back on the haunches to start?  It was like that, except different – and not only because he did NOT start.  I think I might have gotten a little crow hop, even.  I wish Char had been there because she would have made a big deal out of it, and I could have felt like a raging cowboy.  Whatever it was he was doing, it was NOT moving forward, and it was snotty – head up and down, everything not doing what it’s supposed to.

And that made me mad, because I couldn’t get him to level out.  So I slid off, which made him happy, and I stalked over to the lead and stick – with Hickory trailing happily behind, head lowered helpfully, in case we were done and I wanted to take his halter and bridle off.  But instead, he got led back into the middle of the arena, and when I said, “Canter,” he cantered.  Both ways.  Over and over and over.  He even tripped a couple of times (going clockwise) which may or may not have been done for dramatic effect.  Oh, and going that same way, had one of his pull back melt-downs.  Which didn’t help his situation any.  In the end, he did what I told him to do.

I have to tell you that I was impressed with myself for not turning into a total coward. 

I took the lead off (his head was down again) and disappointed him by climbing right back up into the saddle.  We started a trot, and when I asked for the canter, he started it, but headed for the panels – and when he got close, changed direction so abruptly, I came a little out of the saddle.  But I didn’t go anywhere.  Lost a stirrup.  But this time, when I asked for the canter, I got one.  And we kept doing it for about fifteen seconds, which is about as long as I like cantering in that arena.  But we did it several times, going several directions, including past the barn, which I no longer rope off.  And he responded to rein and leg.

After that, we had one more discussion – this one about trotting through a space between two barrels, which he managed to avoid by getting his rudder stuck again.  So we worked on that for ten minutes, and got his rudder fixed.

I never ride for a terribly long time.  Partly because it’s too hot, and partly because I’m too ignorant to know what I should be doing, and not hopeful enough to assume I’m doing any of it right.  But I won the arguments in the end, and I felt pretty good when I got off.  I think we’re improving.

He was VERY happy in the end when I finally took his suggestion and relieved him of his headgear. 

After that, I put my Parelli hackamore on Zion and worked on walking.  Just walking, please.  I am happy to report that it did not go perfectly, which I take as a sign that he is finally feeling better.  His nose is still running, though, and I almost wonder if he’s got allergies??

So not only have I ridden since spring, I’ve ridden about 40 times, if putting your leg over a horse and at least walking around counts as a ride.  Everybody but Jedda.  I am not enough people to get to everybody, and Zion is my love.

But there you go.  I feel like you should be proud of me, even though you, Geneva, will want to tell me ALL THE THINGS I DID WRONG.  Which could take you a week, and would be worse, if you’d actually been there to watch me be all thumbs with everything.  But I am trying, and Hickory still loves me after I’m mean and work him.  Oh.  I brushed him down after and hosed him off a little, then put him out through the barn to keep eating with Jedda.  But he didn’t want to go.  He kept following me back to the barn.

I finally figured it out.  He had three peppermint treats coming to him – that’s the reward for letting somebody stick bars through your teeth and make you canter in circles – and he wanted ‘em.  So I gave him his pay and sent him on his way.

And that’s the end.

After Sophie’s mental breakdown on the lane, I realized that I was going to have to do some tuning up of everybody.  I’m not that great a rider, and the idea scared me.  So I started out taking Sophie for walks, taking her down there by hand.  At first, she was skittery.  But I learned a lot by doing it.  And I took her three times, the theory being, the more often she goes down there, the less she’ll be bothered under saddle.

Then I started walking the colt down there for the same reason.  He’s really not been out of my place often – just to the vet and down to Rachel’s a couple of times.  He was squirrely too, but brave.  When the little calf ran up the dung hill just beside us, the colt threw his head up and re-set his feet, but he didn’t pull back, and he didn’t try to bolt.  This is good.  

Everytime I finished the walk, it was in Bob’s big arena.  Just a little work out to break up the walk home so we don’t get too silly when we’re heading that way.  I told Geneva about that, but she said the real workout – trotting till we’re tired – should be on the way out, so the actual ride down the lane is an escape from work, a rest.

I walked Zion down there a couple of times, then decided it was time I got some guts, that it was time for me to take a ride instead of a walk (Geneva had twitted me about it, and she was right).  So I went to the field, fed them all, and then worked him on the ground for a while.  After I had him saddled, I called Guy and called Rachel – just so somebody knew where I was going.  Then my battery started to run down.

Off I went, down the road on my Zi, who was pretty sure he didn’t want to go.  I waved at Bob, who was working in the arena.  So one more person knew I was out there all by my lonesome, just in case my horse pulled something on me.  But it turned out, he did as asked, just a little nervous.  And mostly well behaved.  Of course, he did the drunken sailor thing – I guess he feels that, if he can drift far enough to the side, he’ll finally just sneak his head around so he can change directions.  But it didn’t work.  At the very end, he really got querulous, calling and calling.  So I forced him to finish, then turned around before I lost him for real.

After that ride, I was ambivalent.  I’d handled him.  But barely.  So days went by.  Then I decided I’d better do it again.  So I saddled him up the next week, and called Rachel – but this time, she came with me, she and Jaden on her cruiser bike.  I was worried the bicycle freaking him out, but he wasn’t bothered.  

I worked him on the line under saddle.  Then I trotted and cantered around my little arena for a while.  Then we went across the street and worked out in Bob’s big arena.  Zi was breathing hard, and Rachel, who made me keep trotting around – I was worried I was pushing my welcome with her.  But no – a woman of infinite patience.

She rode down the path with me, and I think Zi thought the bike was some odd kind of horse, because he seemed much more comfortable.  And I was tons more confident, not being all alone back there.  In fact, I was nearly euphoric – I was safe, and he behaved beautifully.  Well, better, anyway.  We went down to Harold’s gate and back, and he was quiet.  But maybe that’s because Westin had just trimmed him and his feet were ouchy on the rocky lane.

The next day, I decided to saddle up Sophie.  I never expected to be so scared about that.  But danged if Rachel didn’t come again.  And we went through the same routine.  And Sophie was fine.  No weirdness.  No misbehavior.  A good ride.

The only thing was, I couldn’t get her to canter on the line, and I wasn’t about to ask her to under saddle, not after she hump-jumped a couple of times under Rachel.  I needed to know her better, make sure the respect was there.  But the walk was good.  Last week, I worked her on the line, went through the games, and got a nice, brisk canter when I asked for it.  So all’s right with the world.  Maybe.  We still need to do it under saddle.

There was a hitch when I walked the colt down the lane the third time.  I took a detour and walked him through the neighborhood there – nice houses and asphalt.  He’d never done any such thing before, and he was head up, nose scanning, snort, snort.  But he was so fine, I relaxed my vigilance, and didn’t see the sideways shy till it hit me from behind.  

He hit me and I was sure I was going to do a face plant on the road, but things were very confused – like he’d stepped sideways into me and gotten his legs tangled with mine – I was falling, but did not fall.  Then he pushed me again, and I still didn’t fall.  Later, one calf hurt and the opposite heel hurt – and I’m guessing he was standing on my heel and my legs were locked.  Anyway, it was a little miracle that I didn’t end up losing all the skin off my face.  After that, he did fine.

Now all I have to do is ride the colt (very scary) and keep riding Zi and Sophie – and maybe the other two too.  I have to admit, this is a little overwhelming.  Five horses and the family has vanished, all the children grown up – something to think about before you buy a helpless animal that will depend on you for twenty to thirty years.

Still, this is my dream.  And if I age well, I will thank them for getting me outside and keeping me flexible and fit.  Assuming they don’t throw me and break my neck.

I haven’t written because I’ve been doing my head off.  I have to post the thing about our first ride down Boardman’s Lane this spring and Sophie coming un-glued, because that freaked me out: my gentle, boringest, most trustworthy horse freaking out about – what?  A ditch?  An electric fence buzz?  And running backward across a newly staked out for landscaping yard, tearing up the stakes and string and leaving divots in the level dirt big enough to store an alligator in.

Yes, it’s spring.  But I did ride her for at least five or so minutes over the winter, and she nearly bucked Rachel off, which Rachel definitely didn’t need.  But as I say, there is a post about this. What I really want to write about is this spring’s anti-founder strategy. 

I did what I always do, start off like Geneva taught me: feed the horses in the morning so that their stomachs are full before you put them on the grass.  The first day, I turn them out for ten minutes, rewarding them for coming back in with a dessert- a handful of alfalfa.  The second day, it’s fifteen minutes – I just shovel manure and work around the barn till it’s time to bring them in.  

This year, I set up the first fence all along the east side of the pasture, a long, maybe thirty, forty foot strip that ran the length of the grass north of the barn.  The grass is always longest there, richest, and gets oldest first.  So I wanted them to eat it down.  I left all the gates open when I put them out there, so nobody’d be trapped in that narrow run.  And they ate it down well over the course of almost two weeks.  The first week for the fifteen minutes, then twenty, finally half an hour, with hay in the morning.

When I felt like it was good to go past fifteen minutes, I started cutting down the morning alfala for everybody but Sophie.  I’d keep Sophie in the jail at night, or Jetta – in the morning, I’d run Jetta out through the barn, then put Sophie in the jail, or keep her there if she was already in there.  Then I’d run everybody else out on the grass, feed Sophie hay, work a bit, then let her out the last fifteen minutes.

I meant to do exactly what I did last year, but I was moving too fast – couldn’t take the time to remember to check the blog, didn’t even check the calendar.  I keep re-inventing the wheel, which is just stupid.

But it worked.  I checked her digital pulse often, sometimes finding it, sometimes not.  Once it was hot.  But the next morning, it was gone.  She’s doing fine.  Still has a little pulse, but no sore feet, no stiffness of movement.  So whatever I’m doing, we seem to have dodged the bullet again this year.  I’m keeping Jetta in the hot jail during the day – Jetta is my tank, and putting Sophie in there at night, just in case the heat is part of the problem.  But so far, so good.

I have re-defined the pastures.  I started with the three in the back and the four out front.  But when Rachel had to give up her horses, she gave me back my gate, which gives me one more to work with.  So that huge middle pasture is now two.  We’ll see how that works.  I ended up grazing out the back before the front – the grass was just too long there, and I had to get to the weeds to spray them.

Always an experiment.

I don’t write here a lot. That’s because nobody reads here a lot. I started this blog in hopes that my experiences with my horses might help somebody else in their own efforts not only to love, but to serve and care for an equine companion. I am not much of a trainer, but I am trying. And so I write this stuff down here, when I can.

Training: I favor the Parelli program. I know there are a lot of people out there who are doing “training programs.” Parelli was one of the very first, and as far as I am concerned, this is the very best. My friends have gone to Clinton Anderson, feeling that he is quicker and more get it done. But I don’t believe in “quick and easy” relationships. Parelli is elegant and the psychology of the horse is respected – not just for the sake of manipulation, but for the sake of understanding. Horse owners have to take their responsibilities seriously – the mental health of the horse, and the safety of the owner depend on this.

I started using the program years ago, and it has given me a clear and wonderful way of learning to share the world with my buddies. Funny how, as you grow to know them, you can “see” the “looks on their faces” as clearly as if you were trying to decipher a human face. That means a lot to me. They know me now – and respect me most of the time. When I say no, they know exactly what that means.

Now, to sum up some things:

Sophie’s Foundering. It happens mostly in spring and early summer. I beat it completely last year, but it took work. When the grass came on, I only let her stay out on it for fifteen minutes at a time, long after i was giving the others half an hour to an hour. I’d let them all out but Sophie. Then I’d feed her a breakfast of hay and go home. When the time came to put everybody back inside, I’d go a little early and let her out. I’d take fifteen or so minutes to muck out or whatever (if you can’t find fifteen minutes worth of work around your place, you must have tons of money and lots of help).

After that fifteen minutes, I’d bring her in with the boys. My two older geldings keep very well, and for the first several weeks on the grass only need a half hour to forty five minutes of grazing the lush spring grass to maintain their weight and health. My older quarter mare needs far more time to keep her in flesh, and the colt has needed that, too. Now that he’s grown up, we’ll see. Spring this year will tell. All are in good flesh now. In fact, I fed them too much because it’s been too cold, and Dustin, the oldest and the alpha, colicked – we think maybe on the extra grass hay – as I have written in the post before this one.

We had no thrush this year, which was good. And the grass held out till October. Five horses on an acre and a quarter from end of April to end of October. Not bad management, if I do say so myself.

If anybody does read this, and has questions about what i’ve learned about training or feeding or managing, just post and ask, or write it in a comment, and I’ll answer. We sat on the colt for the first time in October. Geneva did the honors, and that colt was brilliant and gentle. But we’d put in so many hours of consistent work in both discipline and communication. It was good to see it all pay off.