National Western Stockshow

National Western Stockshow is a hold over from the days of the wild west, when cattle ranchers would drive their beef cattle to Denver to load on trains for back east (which is any place east of Kansas in my mind.) It is located in the middle of Denver and J and I have been going for 17 years. T grew up with Stockshow in January and it is as much fun for him as it is for us.

I sweat it's the only time corn dogs sound good to me. The atmosphere is somewhere between a county fair and a super mall. There are three main buildings - the coleseum, the Hall of Education and the Equestrian Center. The Hall of Education also has a smaller arena where they show cattle, alpaca, hogs, sheep, have dog pulls, and stick rodeos (watching four year olds ride a bucking stick pony is freaking the best ever!)

Even at almost 13, T is still drawn into the junk shops. True to form, he wanted a gun (rubber band shooter - of which he has two models already and was looking forward to increasing his arsenal) and a stuffed dog. He settled for the stuffed dog and a bag of sour bubble gum.

The Hall of Education has a bunch of exhibits, including a Bird Rescue. That blur of color at the end of the woman's arm is a frantic Kestrel. There was also a Bald and a Harris hawk.

See? Kestrel. All of the birds are rescues, and unable to be released back into the wild, so they are used as ambassadors to educate people about the birds of prey we have in our area. We thought this particular group was the one who had rescued the Redtail we found injured and I was going to ask about it, but it was a different group altogether.

The equestrian center with the jumps set up for the Low Jumper show. Three of the young women from TMR rode in the show.

Cinnamon and her three students walking the course ahead of the show. They walk off the number of steps between jumps and talk about the best line to take, what to watch out for, where to swing wide or cut time off the course.

This jump course was two fold. The first eight fences were considered the "power" jumps and the last six were the speed course. If the rider makes it clear over the first eight fences (no faults and no time penalty) then they race through the last six jumps and the fastest time in the last six jumps wins the show.

We saw some crashed fences. And some refusals. And a lot of knocked down poles. By the time a third of the class had gone, only four horses had gone clear. One of them was Batman, from TMR, who lives in the stall across the aisle from Ashke.

We had pretty good seats, but only an iPhone camera. It was interesting to watch the horse's ears and attitude when they started the ride. Some of them weren't crazy about their rider.

Watching horses jumping is pretty interesting. Some of them really enjoy it and some are only doing it because they have no choice.

This is Batman. He was in fourth place when we had to leave. We had to leave because I told Lisa I would go with her to look at a new horse. Otherwise, we would have stayed to watch the entire show.

 

We raced out of the stockshow, which was more like driving really slowly with a great number of stops, and drove to Lisa's house. I went with Lisa to see this pretty fellow, by the name of TMF Maar Egypt.  He is a six year old Straight Egyptian green broke gelding. This was the second time Lisa has gone out to see him. The first time they weren't able to get a bridle on him, so Lisa went out today to see how he was.

It was pretty difficult to get the bridle on him. He has no ground manners and kept coming over into whoever was trying to work with him. The woman who owns him has always worked with him tied to her fence. He figured out some time ago that he could swing his body around and pin whoever it was against the fence, making them back away from him. When pressed, he would throw his weight backward and fight the rope then lunge forward. He also knew that he could get his head over the fence and make it impossible to get the bridle on him. Basically, he was allowed to be a bully and intimidate his owner, who didn't want to reprimand him.

After watching her back away and go forward with him, several times, she turned and asked us to go inside while she got the bridle on him. I asked her if I could try. She did. He tried to pinch me against the fence and I stuck my elbows out, getting him in the ribs and making him move away. I wouldn't let him crowd me. Every time he stuck his head over the fence, I grabbed the halter and pulled his head around. We did this several times and finally he exploded, pulling back and then charging forward. I moved with him, not letting up and not letting him push me away from his body. He stopped fighting quite so much and I shook the bridle in front of him, watching him flinch away from the leather. Finally, he stopped flinching and I was able to lay the bridle on the front of his face. From that point on he was a different horse.

 

Saddling and riding was no big deal. Lisa rode him in the round pen and then up and down the road. He was awesome under saddle and that's really the hard part. He has issues with his left hind leg and needs work from the ground, but is amazing under saddle. His feet need trimming, which might be problematic given he kicks violently every time you try to pick up his left hind.  He needs to put on a little weight and tone and condition, but not a bunch. I think he and Lisa will make a great team.

And look what we found for Pebble for her first birthday:

Fail

Me. Tonight. A lot.

But before we get to that, I have pictures to share with you on why I decided to move Ashke to grass for the next couple of months.

I had to, in case you had forgotten what he looked like when I got him.

Doesn't his chest and shoulder look great?

 

The picture that still makes me cry.

 Nice muscle in the shoulder, too. Hard to take good iPhone photos in a dimly lit barn. Especially of a white horse.

So darn skinny!

Not so much any more. I can still feel his ribs but you can't see them any more. I figure he is a six now on the body condition chart. Now we just need to tone and condition.

Can't wait to add some muscle to the top of his butt, and fill in his top line. We have hills for that.

I rode again tonight. It didn't go well. We did great at the walk and the canter, but not so much at the trot. I just can't get him to bring his head down. I know that this was only the fifth or so ride since I got the new bit, but still, I got pretty frustrated. Frustration is not how I want to be with my horse.

I've decided to try a tie-down the next time we ride in the arena. Sunday, Nicole and I are riding out on the mesa, which I know he is going to love! The next time I ride in the arena, I will put the tie-down on him and see if that helps him figure out what I want him to do. I know I'm just not asking right, because he is trying to do what I want. 

We worked on so many things . . . he sidepassed in both directions, he backed with very little cue, he cantered to the left for six circuits of the arena, and to the right for two and a half before he stumbled, so we stopped. In the future I need to ride to the right first, not after he is tired. We walked in figure eights. We practiced stopping and then backing. We practiced standing still and waiting for me to ask him to move forward. He did all of that really awesome. It was just the trotting we had difficulty with. 

When I was riding him with the martingale, he would flex and drop his head and neck, because the reins were forcing him down. Now that the feel of my hands is different, I think he is lost trying to figure out what I am asking him for. I am going to try the tie-down and see if I can use the tool to get us settled and his head down. I think once he understands what I am asking for, he will willingly give it to me. It's just getting him to understand.

Finally!

I changed the feed for Ashke last night, effective today. We are moving from six flakes of alfalfa mix to straight up grass. I know Ashke isn't going to be happy, but we have finally managed to get him to a weight where he just needs to maintain and tone.

His shoulder, which was the one part on his body that moved me to tears, is now a solid slab of muscle running from his neck, across the point of shoulder and down into his leg. His neck is filled out and you can see the elegance in this photo.

 

Ashke is the horse on the left, and you can see the muscle in his neck and how the crest of his neck is filled out.

 

 

He still needs muscle on his top line and across the top of his butt, however, his ribs have filled in and he has muscle in the gaskin, stifle flank area. I would say he is a 6 on the body condition chart. He no longer needs to gain weight, we just need to condition and tone what he has.

 

Last night was a decent ride. We had the arena to ourselves for almost 45 minutes. We mostly walked and trotted, although we did get a solid three circuits of canter to the left and two to the right before we stopped. I am still being careful not to get him sweaty while it is so cold here.

 

Ashke has gotten so much better at coming up to the mounting block. If he walks off, I remain standing on the block and flick my reins at him and ask him to move back into position, the way Nicole does. He hasn't been trained the way Cali was when Cali was little, but he knows what I want and tries to move into the correct position. I am being very good about making him stand still, even when he wants to dance, until I tell him it's okay to walk. He is starting to figure it out.

 

It takes patience and consistency with a horse this smart. He wants to be an active partner in our interaction. Giving him the time and space to work through what I'm asking seems to be the best system of training for him. I don't think he will ever be the kind of horse that you can demand something from and expect it immediately. I think asking, just like with kids, is a much better process. And I am seeing the results. Last night I asked him to back verbally while giving him the leg cue. He dropped his head and backed without me having to touch the reins. That pleases me.

 

Now if I could just get him to relax at the trot. Getting him to relax at the trot seems to be the next thing on my list. I'm thinking if there isn't anyone in the arena tonight, I am going to give him a loose rein (tight enough I can control him if I really need to) and see if he will settle into an easy trot without any pressure on his mouth. I think I'm going to have to let him have his head completely, without interferrence, and see if I can talk him down with my voice. Even with the new bit, asking him to relax and drop his head against the pressure causes him to brace and fight. If I let him go and keep asking him verbally to easy trot, maybe he can find his way there.

 

It will be worth a shot. 

My Back

One of the things I found most interesting in my conversation with the psychic was the comment that Ashke knew my back was injured and he was trying to help it heal.

My lower back has been an issue since I was 13 and has been both better and worse in the 37 years since that riding accident. The chiropractor has helped, as have the Good Feet inserts, but those things aside, I still deal with pain on a daily basis.

Pain, especially debilitating pain, causes fear. One of my biggest fears when I brought Ashke home was getting thrown and seriously injured. I was thrown in June, just after I started working him under saddle. I severely bruised the muscle and bone across my pelvic shelf and lower back. It didn't break me, but it did sideline me for about three weeks. Since then, Ashke hasn't even tried to toss me off, but I still ride with hesitancy.

I didn't expect to have issues with riding. But I have. My muscles are weak and need to redevelop strength, especially in my core. I became very sedentary when the disc slipped and gained about 30 lbs, 25 of which I have lost. I have gained enough strength and tone to ride comfortably at the walk and trot, but still feel it at the end of the canter. I feel like I have found my center and am no longer fighting to stay on, but the movement of my hips and back at the canter causes those muscles to really hurt at the end of the ride.

Ashke told the psychic that I still felt wobbly and that he is hesitant because he doesn't want to lose me. He is trying to help me gain strength and for the two of us to find our balance. I can feel him trying to achieve that balance when we ride. I no longer feel like he is going to bolt out from under me, or spin away or buck. I feel like we are both working toward the same goal of finding balance and ability at the faster gaits. I know he just wants to get out and go and my goal is to be able to do that by the beginning of the summer.

One of the things I've discovered is that the pain I thought was spinal, caused by a ruptured disc, is actually muscular. I know from xrays and an MRI that there has been damage to the cartilege at my SI joint, but I think most of the pain is from the muscles being forced to do work for a change. Lazy muscles.

Horses and Pain

I have been thrown since I first started to ride. I think it's a given whenever one spends a great deal of time with horses, at least if one is riding them. The trick is learning not to get thrown, or not to fall off. I thought I would share some of the experiences that have shaped who I am . . .

My first time solo on the back of the horse was when I was six. I was riding a three year old palomino appaloosa named Muffin and owned by a family friend. I had my reins way too long. We rode up a hill behind the ranch where Muffin lived and she turned for home directly down a pretty steep hillside. I tried to stop her by lifting the reins all the way over my head, but because of their length and my size, it had zero effect. At the bottom of the hill, Muffin went up, over, into, out of and down a ditch bank covered with short, thickly grown Russian Olive trees. I ducked my head, grasped hold of the saddle horn and cried as we tore through the long, wickedly sharp thorns to the other side, leaving me sobbing in pain and covered with long, bleeding scratches. I didn't get off though, and it did nothing to dampen my desire to ride and be owned by a horse.

Thus started the relationship of pain and riding that I understand and accept as a horsewoman.

My first equine shaped animal was a shithead shetland pony sold as a "great kid's horse" to my parents by my Uncle. He was vicious, wicked quick with his hooves, a biter, and as hard mouthed as an animal can get. I was eight. The first time on him, he ran me under nine apple trees, trying to bash me against the trunks as I clung like a monkey to the twisted pad saddle. I finally let go and fell off, rising with tears streaking my face, frustration like a fist in my belly. That started my relationship with the shitland that continued until we finally sold him several years later. In that time, I was kicked in the chest, bit numerous times, thrown against a fence, broke my hand falling off, got scraped off under the clothesline and got thrown face first into a slatboard gate more times than I can count. Every time I got up, brushed myself off and got back on. Every. Time.

Then there was Sham. He was half-welsh, half-Appaloosa, and all mean from the moment he was foaled. When he was less than two weeks old, he reared up and tried to knock my brother off his mother's back, using his feet and teeth. By the time he was a yearling, I couldn't keep him in a pasture because he could jump everything we had. We tried housing him in a seven foot pole corral, but he reared up and touched the top pole with his nose, sank back and cleared it from a standstill. I tried hobbling him, tying his legs closer and closer together until the only way he could move was to hop like a freaking bunny. It didn't deter him however, since the little bugger hopped to the fence, fell into it, rolled out the other side and hopped away in search of mares to bother. I was so happy the day the vet came out to geld him. I was so angry that afternoon when my idiot father proudly announced they had proud-cut him. It made him meaner than he already was and just as difficult to house as a regular stallion. He bit and kicked. While being ridden he would yank his rider (usually me) forward and down over his neck, then snap his head up and catch said rider in the middle of the face with his poll. He broke several pairs of glasses before I figured out how to avoid his head. He would bite at my feet, legs, hands, and kicked any time he thought he could connect. He could cowkick any one standing by his left shoulder. He once kicked me in the mouth at one of the 4-H county fairs and I ended up with nine stitches. I raced to the emergency room and then back to the fair so I wouldn't miss being able to show.

I had one major accident with Queenie. It was March. I went out for a ride, bareback because I didn't own a saddle, and the weather turned nasty. We were headed home and Queenie was cantering every chance we got. The temperature was falling and it was threatening snow. As we came across the bridge a half mile from our house and moved onto the shoulder of the road I let her canter. A neighbor pulled up next to me and I turned my head to salute them. That is when Queenie went down. To this day, I have no real clear idea why she fell. I hit the road and rolled to my feet, looking over to see Queenie getting to her feet. I gathered her up and went toward the house. She seemed to be alright, but I was not. It was a good thing I had my head turned, or I might not have survived the fall. We didn't wear helmets when I was a kid, either on our horses or on our bikes. As it was,  I ended up with 37 stitches in my face, horrible road rash on the left side of my face, a badly sprained left ankle (which still gives me issues) and damage at the SI joint in my back.

I have had chronic lower back pain ever since.

I can not count the number of times I've been thrown.

On July 3rd, 2006, in Island Park, Idaho, we took a trail ride at one of the stables that offered that service. This one would let my son ride on his own horse, since he was six. I had a deep desire to share with him my love and fascination with horses and to instill in him a love of riding. He was on a small, appy horse with his cousin, his aunt and his two moms riding in the group. I was on a rangy, chestnut gelding, 16.1 hands high, with a camera bag strapped around my waist and my camera and telephoto lens in my right hand. The trail was supposed to take us down the Snake River, where there were Trumpeter Swans, Herons, Bald Eagles and a plethora of wild life. I was excited to get a bunch of awesome pictures. About 30 minutes in, I pulled my feet out of the stirrups and stretched out my legs (we were riding Western). As my heels flashed past the point of the horse's shoulder, he ducked his head and began to buck. I had a moment of clarity where I knew I could drop the camera and stay on, or I could save the camera and my brand new, very expensive telephoto lens and let the horse throw me. I opted to save the camera. As I landed, I still had a hold of my reins and the horse jerked back, arching me over the edge of my camera bag. I tore the muscles in the left side of my abdomen, partially destroyed the cartlege in my left shoulder, bruised my kidneys and ruptured the disc at my L5 vertebre. I did what I always have done. I got back up and got back on the horse. We rode for another two hours. I did it in part because I didn't want to tarnish my son's first ride. And in part because I was stupid. When I got back off the horse, I couldn't stand up. My entire back was one huge bruise and I was in so much pain I couldn't walk. I had no medical insurance and was one semester away from finishing college. I didn't go to the hospital. Instead, I went home and dosed myself on left over pain pills from a root canal, and by the time I was out of them, the pain had subsided. The ruptured disc has taken six years of chiropractic care to resolve, but still twinges on occassion.

It was after that accident that I told J I would never ride again. I didn't want to be in pain any more and most of my pain throughout my life has come while riding. My chiropractor also told me that if I got tossed again I would be facing surgery. I wasn't willing to risk my ability to walk just to ride.

Famous last words.

Bit and Balance

One of the things I realized the last time I rode with Nicole is that I've never really worked consistently with a snaffle bit.

When I was a kid, we rode western, with long, loose reins and a curb bit. It's just what we did. I rode Queenie with either a curb bit with a roller or a mechanical hackamore. I couldn't show in 4-H with the hackamore, so most of my practice with with the curb bit, but we both preferred the hackamore when we were out and about, if for no other reason than Queenie could graze if we stopped. Queenie was green broke (meaning you could get on her, but she hadn't been taught many manners) when I got her and I spent our first winter together teaching her to neck rein and stop in a halter and lead rope in the snow. She figured it out pretty quick. By that August, we showed in four classes at our County Fair - halter, western pleasure, bareback and trail. We received four blue ribbons and two red rosettes (blues meant you could show at State, the rosettes meant we were the top second in the class) in the four classes. By my second year of showing, we added the western reining class to our schedule, which included a slide stop and flying lead change, and always placed in the blue. She was right where I wanted her and we really enjoyed both the 4-H program and the posse I rode with when I became to old for 4-H. We went from riding in a halter to riding with a curb bit. The closest I came to using a snaffle was the very short shanked tom thumb I rode her in for a while. I also rode her with a piece of rope around her neck, or in a halter, or sometimes in the pasture with just my hands pressed against the sides of her head.

I've never tried to figure out with her, the stuff I'm trying to figure out now.

Riding with a snaffle, especially when working on leg yields, flexing and turning, collected trot and canter, requires contact between horse and rider, both with the legs and with the bit. Teaching a horse, even one as smart as Ashke, what I am also trying to figure out has been interesting to say the least. Nicole has been invaluable in talking me through some of the stuff she grew up learning, while I am also struggling to unlearn the stuff I grew up learning. It has been especially challenging since I am riding in a saddle that is neither western nor english, but a compilation of the two.

But back to the bit thing.

Ashke finally feels comfortable with the bit I purchased. It fits the size of his mouth just perfectly, and although I would have thought it sat in his mouth too low, based on what I learned as a kid, it is exactly where it needs to be for him to be comfortable. (That theory of one to two wrinkles at the corner of the mouth that I was told over and over, is bogus. Cinnamon showed me a better way to test the bridle and said that each bit will fit differently than others. What I needed to do was find a bit that fit Ashke well, which we have done.) So, this bit is the Rockin' Raised Snaffle bit recommended by Mark Rashid, and is 4.5 inches wide. It gives us about 1/8th of an inch at the corners of the mouth, and once I had it at the correct length on the bridle, Ashke hasn't fussed. One of the issues I had with the other bits, and the reason I ordered the 4.5", was Ashke could open his mouth and the bit would slide half way out. It was just too huge. Even the 5" one. My boy has a delicate nose.

So the thing that I am working on in the arena is keeping contact with his mouth, while remaining soft. To teach him soft and subtle cues. He responds really well to leg pressure and is incredibly sensitive, so I am being as cognizant of that as is possible. One of the things I have learned is to keep my hands as soft and steady as possible, down next to his neck and to keep steady pressure on the outside rein, while communicating through movement with my inside rein. It's tough, because I am so very right hand dominant that I really have to concentrate on what I am doing. Of course, that kind of takes my mind off how I am riding the canter, if I am focusing on my hands.

Maybe some day it will all come together. Maybe some day I will take Nicole's advice and take a dressage lesson. One of my hesitancies is still not trusting a trainer to tell me what to do in a way that won't damage my relationship with Ashke. I trust Nicole, because I've seen her train Cali and I know she's more interested in improving my relationship with him than in perfecting something for the ring. She's more interested in helping us acheive balance. And I mean balance in our gaits, balance in his body, balance in his ability in both directions and at both leads, balance between the forehand and his rear, balance in my cues and how I ride. Balance.

On the trail, the lessons we are working on in the arena help with what I am asking him to do outside. It helps to know how to calm him and refocus his energy when he gets really up and wants to go. It's nice to know he understands the leg yield when walking past rocks he wants to get skitty with. I understand how what we are working on is going to help with what we want to do. I had no clue when I was a kid, being  focused more on the going part of riding, but I get it now.

Matched Set

I met Nicole at the barn at 11 am, feeling pretty guilty that I had left my mom at my house on her last day here. However, Ashke needed me and I really need to be consistent with my riding. (Mom, I love you and hope you forgive me.)

Ashke was outside in his blanket when I got there. Jean brought him in as I was pulling my gear out and she said there was something wrong with his face. I laughed without even looking and told her it was the molasses from his hanging treat. His face was pretty sticky. He reached out and took ahold of the edge of my hoody and just held onto it with his teeth. He was very careful to not touch my skin. Who would have thought that talking to a psychic would fix his biting problem.

Nicole and I got our horses saddled up. I got pooed on when I was cleaning his feet, but that was the only incident. When we got to the arena it was basically just Nicole and I, which ended up in a very nice ride. Ashke and I went slow and we worked on some leg yields and I worked on trying to get him to stretch down to the bit at the trot. Nicole must have sensed some frustration, because she asked  me how he was doing. We talked a bit about how he would give to pressure when he had the martingale on, but how I was struggling to get him to respond without it. I'm very committed to riding him without, so am spending time trying to get him to flex at the poll and drop his head without it.

Nicole had me drop my hands and extend them out away from me, then had me work the reins with leg pressure to get him to reach down to the bit. He did a couple of times. More than he had been before, and so now I know what to work on. Then I told Nicole I needed to canter him a couple of times in each direction so he got the work in. She agreed to video tape us while I did. He went just great to the left and felt both balanced and responsive. When I turned to the right, which is when Nicole started taping me, he took off and was running as fast as he could. I told Nicole, while I was riding him, that he always sped up at the canter to the right and I felt like I was losing control. Nicole told me to keep steady pressure on the outside rein and then apply pressure with the inside leg. She said it was counterintuitive, but it would get him to lift his back and get his butt under him. She thinks he is still weaker on the right (I agree) and the right is also his "struggle" side, which I guess all horses have, so he is racing out to try and find his balance. It definitely worked and not only was he moving with more balance, he also dropped his head and relaxed on the bit.

 Sorry about the spinning camera, but Nicole was on Cali and doing the best she could given the circumstances. I'm just glad I can watch myself ride. Being able to see it helps me figure out what I need to work on.

We didn't do it for more than just a couple of circuits, since it is bitterly cold here and I don't want him chilled. While we were finishing up another boarder, Sally, came in and remarked on Ashke. She asked me if he would be okay hanging out with her horse. I said sure, since I know Ashke gets on with most horses.

Her horse is a Straight Egyptian Arabian. And dapple-grey.

Can you tell them apart? Ashke is so white it throws off the camera.

They are almost exactly the same height. Ashke has more weight on over his ribs, but Ibn's rump is rounder. Ashke has the more refined face and archier neck, and also a bigger belly. Of course, Ashke's Daddy and Granddaddy have those big rounded barrels, so I think it's hereditary.

They played together pretty well. I think Sally is excited to have another horse for her horse to hang out with. And she trail rides, so that's fun potential waiting right there.

I think they would make an amazing Chariot team. If I had a Chariot, a place to drive it and any knowledge whatsoever on how to train a Chariot team.

What Nicole found when she went back out to the barn to take the boots off of Cali.

Just chillaxing in the shavings waiting for his dinner to be served. I asked Nicole if he was okay and she said he was just sleepy.