august, here we are

I changed the blog design today because suddenly I realized it's the beginning of August, and when I look out the window or walk outside in any direction, the overwhelming green-ness is what surrounds me. I think I'm ready for the blog to reflect that.

Last night I went out to spend some time with Keil Bay, and immediately noticed his right eye was bothering him. It wasn't goopy, wasn't red, only the very tiniest bit puffy, but he was blinking it a little more than normal. So after his meal I squeezed a warm wet washcloth over his eye, wiped it gently, and gave him a homeopathic remedy I thought might help. Fortunately that did the trick. Everything is normal today.

It reminded me, though, how cooperative my crew here is when it comes to things like that. Keil is a big horse and he can so easily lift his head out of reach. And he does that sometimes, but he will bring it down if I center myself and ask quietly.

August dawned with my husband going out to let horses in, and finding Dickens the Feline Cowboy sleeping in one of the horse mangers, on some leftover hay. Somehow, that symbolizes the lushness of August while at the same time serving as a premonition of a cool autumn morning. 

Today the horses and donkeys have switched pastures and they are over the top happy with the new grazing. The entire family went out this evening bearing a tray of special donkey birthday cookies for Rafer's belated celebration. I had envisioned all of us around the picnic table, but I couldn't bear to bring them in from their turn-out, so we handed out cookies over the arena fence.

Rafer Johnson knew instantly what was up and he came marching right up to us. Redford was not far behind. After a minute, Keil Bay and Salina came up. Cody received his at the round bale - he was in the barnyard eating some hay after his ride, and The Pony (I remembered to capitalize!) would not even leave the grass to come get his, so His Girl took them directly to him.

It was a quiet, quick celebration, but I think they appreciated being left to graze.

Next weekend we have a new family member coming home to November Hill.  "Bear" - whose name is probably going to be Tristan - will be making the journey and then the transition into the fold.

finally, a night in the 60s!

I think the horses and donkeys knew the temperatures were falling even before the sun set yesterday - Redford and Cody were having one of their extended play sessions, something they haven't done lately due to the oppressive heat.

My grand plan to be out in the cool of the night was shifted somewhat when I walked by the sofa barefoot and somehow rammed my little toe. It hurt and throbbed so hard I knew it was more than the usual stubbing - this morning it is purple and swollen and possibly broken. But I can walk, just not quite normally!

Last night though, I hobbled out with my husband and watched while Salina got her evening stroll in the arena. Two donkeys were running like mad, circling and chasing one another. There was the slightest hint of chill to the air, and it brought out the frisky play. The donkeys took a break to come stand beside me as I rested on the mounting block. There was a little bit of jostling for best scratching positions, which they got, and then they were off again.

Salina was really walking out, which was nice to see.

I couldn't bear to give up completely on my plan to spend some time with the Big Bay, so my husband put on his halter and lead rope and brought him into the arena for me. I hobbled along with Keil for about 1/4 of the way around the arena and realized I couldn't go the entire way. So we spent a little time together backing and turning on the forehand and haunches, and then just stood together for a few minutes, listening to the night sounds and enjoying the cool air.

While my husband was feeding dinner tubs, I laid down along the bench of the picnic table and looked up at the sky. After a few minutes a soft warm muzzle appeared, along with some very handsome and very sweet donkey eyes. Rafer Johnson had finished his meal and come out to visit. He stood and rested his muzzle on my abdomen while he got scratches in his most favorite place - along both sides of his neck. I've said it before and I'll say it again: there is nothing sweeter than a donkey's gaze.

Our feed store is trying a new brand of beet pulp shreds and they asked if I would sample a bag for them, as they know how picky I am and that I do a fairly elaborate rinse/soak/rinse routine and inspect the feed closely. This particular brand is not nearly as dusty, but the shreds are larger and I wondered if the horses would note the difference. It rinsed about the same as the other does, but once rinsed and soaked, the last rinse before feeding seems "cleaner" and the final product looks nice.

Donkeys approved, Salina approved (usually she's the one who refuses something if it's different), Cody and the pony approved. Keil Bay left over half his meal! I was shocked, as he is generally a very enthusiastic eater and I can count on two fingers the things he has refused. One was a home-made from scratch carrot cake with cream cheese frosting I made for the first birthday he shared with me. I think he thought the frosting was dewormer paste and I was trying to pull a fast one. The second were alfalfa pellets that used soybean oil as a binder. (the entire herd refused those - it was quite bizarre)

Last night, when he didn't finish his meal, I asked for a cup of oats and went into his stall to sprinkle them over the beet pulp/alfalfa pellet plus salt and ground flax mixture left in his blue tub. I knew if there was something wrong with the food, the oats wouldn't make a difference, but as soon as I lifted his tub up and sprinkled the oats, he came back and resumed eating with great relish.

In the mornings I often go in at the end of the meal and hold Keil's tub for him so he can lick it clean more easily. I've always done this, and it has always been a special few minutes of time we share. He seems to appreciate the gesture, and will usually lick my fingers a few times during the process.

Last night my toe was throbbing, so I sat on the edge of the manger and held the tub. Keil was careful to when he moved his head, not bumping me, and because it was actually half his meal, it took awhile for him to eat. He ate the bulk of the meal and then meticulously slurped up the juicier portion (we feed wet). At the end, he proceeded with the careful licking clean he likes to do. The other horses had already gone out to the field, but Keil was very happy standing there with me, taking his time, enjoying his meal. I was happy to be there, sitting so close with his tub, and getting smeared with feed as he lifted his head to chew and look.

We had one "hanger on" - Apache Moon often stays behind in the evenings so he can lick out the tubs. For awhile he was waiting patiently at Keil's back door, but it took so long he wandered down the paddock.

When Keil was done and I opened his door so he could rejoin his herd, he didn't leave. I think he wanted to stay and hang out for awhile. I waited in the paddock right by the barn, and he came out, stopped to say good night, and headed down the paddock, through the light from the arena, and then into the dark shadows.

I hope the equines all enjoyed the taste of a changing summer last night - it was so nice feeling the cooler air, and remembering that the heat of summer does move on.

power walking with the Big Bay

Yesterday I went out earlier in the evening to see if I could continue the ease back into work with Keil Bay. He was in the arena grazing (yes, that is unfortunately true! GRASS in the arena enough to graze!) with Cody and Rafer Johnson.

The pony had let himself into the barnyard with Salina and Redford, who were all peacefully co-existing with some hay.

Keil lifted his head as soon as I walked in the arena. I had a halter and lead rope, so he knew something was up. I think he thought we might be heading to the barn to tack up, but I surprised him and took him for a walk all through the front of our property. It's been so hot, and the horses have been slow-moving and slightly sluggish, so when Keil walked out very big with ears up and in his fullest Big Bay posture, it took ME by surprise.

What pleasure to take a walk with a big, alert, handsome Hanoverian! Everything is immensely green, the light from the sun low in the sky is so soft and lovely, and there we were in the midst of it. As we headed up the hill and back toward the barn, we jumped together over the creek bed, and through the loose lead line I could feel the power in Keil's big body, coiled and in his complete control, waiting to see if I would keep the forward momentum and build it into a trot, or continue the walking we'd been doing.

It was like having a big, horse-shaped balloon full of energy on the line, but more even, because of the connection between two living beings.

As  went up the hill, Keil's energy increased and I responded silently, with a sense of pleasure in his movement and power, and the energy seemed to circle. He went into a piaffe.
 
I've not done advanced work in hand, nor have I done long-lining, which I so want to learn. I think a lot of people feel that kind of work is mostly done to get the horse ready for riding, but when I experience the power that I felt yesterday with the Big Bay, I realize the absolute wonder of that kind of work.

That a horse weighing 1300+ pounds chooses to stay with me, connected in spirit and by the lead line, and circles his energy into such a lovely, still movement, is pure magic.

We moved on in our walk and ended up back in the arena, where we did some more walking, really big strides and Keil keeping his head at my shoulder.

My plan was to end with a good groom, but I realized that all the sweat and hosings and rollings had left his coat in need of a real bath, so we spent a good half an hour under the big oak tree. I used the soft scrubber he loves, and about halfway through, he shifted from enjoying the bath but wanting to get to hay, to wanting to just be there with me. I rinsed him on one setting but he loves the mist setting so much we created a rhythm - rinse rinse rinse, clickclickclick to mist for his face and muzzle, clickclickclick back to circle setting to rinse.

Keil Bay is the kind of horse who thrives on the routine of being worked and cared for - he shows his gratitude by engaging at a very deep and connected level once you connect with him that way. It is a mystery that I suppose I will never solve - is he simply oriented this way personality-wise, or did someone nurture this tendency carefully to grow and develop it?

The answer is probably some of both.

back to some work

After our huge rains on Tuesday, and yesterday's drying out and return to "normal" summer weather, the slightly cooler evening seemed like a great time to get back into some work with the horses. I noticed the forecast is predicting lows in the upper 60s again, instead of the mid-70s, and there's something about that shift that makes me realize there will of course be an end to the heat.

Given we have been, including the equines, simply existing the past few weeks, I decided to just do some walking on the ground with Keil Bay in the arena. But first, we took Salina and the donkeys in and while Salina had a walk with my husband to stretch her legs and get her joints warmed up, I pulled grass (the arena is undergoing a transformation - going green! - kept company by Rafer Johnson and Redford. I think they thought I was doing my own version of grazing but Rafer looked at me like I had truly gone crazy when I tossed my harvest over the arena fence into the woods.

We finished up picking feet and applying some ointment to frogs.

The geldings had gone out to the front field earlier, but came marching up to see what we were doing. My daughter grabbed a handful of alfalfa pellets, divided them between herself, my husband, and me, and we proceeded to invite the geldings in for a walk. Keil Bay had to be rewarded for the first three big steps out of his stall and into the arena. It was approaching dinner tub time, and this is not the normal routine, so he was not amused at my timing. But he couldn't ignore the possibility of a few pellets. He first turned himself nearly in half but once he took the first real step it was pretty quick moving from stall to arena.

My daughter was walking with her pony, and my husband with Cody. It was dark and the arena light is in the phase it gets to before it needs to be replaced - still bright enough to see by, but definitely dimmer than usual. It's actually pretty nice having it dimmer - it has a pinkish cast that makes the arena seem slightly surreal.

All I wanted to do with Keil Bay was get back into the arena, do some big walk strides together, and get him to connect with me as a partner. The first few minutes he was walking for the pellets, not able to contain himself from going to my hand, and paying more attention to my hand than to me. We worked through this. After just a bit of time he stopped caring so much about the pellets and we were just walking, turning, stopping, and then I asked him to move his haunches away from me a few times in both directions.

Once we were working together easily and smoothly, we stopped and he got the rest of the pellets all at once. Daughter did some nice work with her pony - she ended up hopping on him and worked on walking and halting, which was something considering there were two other people in the arena with hands full of pellets!

Cody was his usual quiet, respectful self, although he did try to leave husband at one point to come join Keil Bay and me - sometimes I work with both of them together that way and he enjoys being part of a two-horse team, I think.

So - we're over the little slump now and if the weather will cooperate, I'm going to do a little more each day (or night) and aim for actual tack in a week or so.

an appeal for humane and connected horsemanship

Seventeen years ago I was given a book by William Sears, M.D., called The Baby Book, in which Dr. Sears talked about his theory of parenting, referred to as attachment parenting.

Dr. Sears' theory of attachment parenting (often called AP), calls for developing a secure bond with our children, the goal being a secure, connected child who grows into an empathic, connected adult.

Attachment Parenting International offers the following guiding principles, which facilitate strong, nurturing connections between children and their parents:

1. preparing for pregnancy, birth, and parenting
2. feeding with love and respect
3. responding with sensitivity
4. using nurturing touch
5. ensuring safe sleep, physically and emotionally
6. providing consistent and loving care
7. practicing positive discipline
8. striving for balance in personal and family life

With only a few tweaks of language, all of the above could easily be set forth as guiding principles for living humanely and in connection with horses (and donkeys, and all equines).

Last week it was Pat Parelli and Catwalk.

This week I have read an article about a miniature donkey strapped into a harness against her will and parasailed up and down a beach in the name of "publicity." The donkey was terrified, landed quite roughly, and apparently was in such distress while in the air, left many children crying in upset confusion. And yet, after a public outcry when the owner was finally located and the donkey examined by a veterinarian, there will apparently be no charges of abuse or cruelty because the donkey sustained no physical injuries.

In the smaller circle of equine community, I have read a post on a forum about the need to keep working our horses, despite the heat, because of the need to maintain a training schedule. Heat indexes where I live have ranged from 112-119 degrees for the past week. It's easy enough to see that extreme heat affects horses more quickly and more seriously than it does the average, healthy human. They have hair covering their entire bodies. Their digestive tracts rely on regular intake of forage and water to remain functional. When we ride them, they are not only working, but carrying our weight.

I received an email informing me of things to do to haul horses safely in heat, in advance of Pony Club National Championships coming up next weekend in Virginia. Nationals are held in Kentucky and Virginia on alternate years, always in late July/early August. Why schedule something that involves hauling horses and ponies from all over the US during the hottest time of year?

I read a Facebook entry referring to a pony as a "butthead" because he didn't want to go into the ring for a show class, tried to leave, and bucked. Has the pony been checked for physical pain? Bit fit, saddle fit, muscle soreness, feet checked, chiropractic issues? The pony's behavior is indicative of something being wrong, either physically or emotionally. How else can he express it? My guess is that if he didn't want to go into the ring to jump, and that was paid attention to, he wouldn't have then needed to buck to get his point across. And yet no one listened. He was a "butthead."

Is there no end to the narcissism, self-centeredness, and downright ignorance of human beings? I can't think of any reason save an emergency trip to the vet school that would call for loading any horse or donkey into a trailer at this time of year, in this heat, with the expectation that the horse/donkey stand in a strange stall, hot, stressed, and yet ready and willing to perform strenuous work in a competitive setting.

I can't imagine having hauled any of my horses to any event this week and being remotely capable of disparaging them because they resisted being ridden.

And I could no more strap Rafer Johnson or Redford in a harness and drag them through the air for the sake of making a little money than I could one of my human children.

What in the world are we thinking when we expect animals to serve as vehicles for our bank accounts, our egos, and our apparently desperate need for external validation?

Alice Miller wrote a number of books about parents who expect these things of their children. She describes in great psychological detail what this does to children, and how the effects ripple into adulthood.  It's time someone wrote a similar treatise on people and their horses. There is no ribbon on earth, no amount of money, and no genuine self-gratification worth the cost of treating animals like objects, with no feelings, no rights, and little effort on our parts toward creating, nurturing, and maintaining a deeper relationship.

When we ignore the deeper, unspoken needs of the equines we ride and use for our own purposes, there is a cost. Not dollars and cents, although certainly we may end up with broken down horses and big vet bills at some point down the road. The cost I refer to is a psychic, soul-deep cost that I'm not sure we even know the consequences of incurring. It's a cost to humanity and to growth as human beings.

 I know this sounds serious. I believe it to be true.

I'm not opposed to competitive horse sport, but the reward of competition should be based in the maturing of the rider's increasingly connected relationship with the horse, and in the making of sound, safe decisions based on the needs of the horse, who can't leave a voicemail saying "oh, by the way, I really don't feel like carrying you over jumps in 90+ degree heat - how about we do it another time?"

As much as our children rely on us to intuit and meet their needs when they're too young to do it for themselves, our horses and our donkeys (and our cats and dogs and birds and all the other wonderful animals we surround ourselves with) need us to be their biggest, most thoughtful advocates and partners.

And I can say with certainty borne of experience, when we say NO to "smack him harder," when we say NO to "that noseband needs to be TIGHT," when we say IT'S TOO HOT TO HAUL, WE WON'T BE THERE when we get the email asking about the upcoming horse show, and when we say "I'll do what it takes to find out why you bucked in that last class" - what we get in return is something far more valuable than a training schedule checked off, a thumbs up from an unenlightened trainer, a few new clients for our company, or a fistful of cheap show ribbons.

We get connection. We get devotion. We get to participate in the magical relationship that is the amazing and most genuine gift horses and donkeys offer humans.

And more than that, I think we elevate ourselves as humans. We raise the bar for our own species. Instead of expecting more of them, how about we expect more of ourselves?