I made someone angry…
You would think, after all those times when I said, “Hey, winter’s over!” and then we got days of sub-freezing weather that I’d have learned to keep my mouth shut.
But no.
I had to post on here that we were going to a show this weekend.
So Saturday, the plan was for me to trailer Ro down to the show location for a lesson. It was going to be a sort of dry run for the show and, frankly, just something fun to do.
Because someone, somewhere hates me, Ro came in from her turnout Saturday morning all stocked up and snotty. There went the weekend.
She’s fine now, by the way. It looks like this probably wasn’t a cold and was either a reaction to the weather or, given the fact that she stocked up, allergies. If allergies, the million dollar question is “Allergies to what?”
The shavings? Something in the hay? The idea of horse shows? I could go crazy trying to figure it out.
But one thing is for sure: I am never, ever announcing show plans again. The shows end up being canceled or postponed or my horse gets sick. Or something. It always seems to be something.
I suppose this is logical in her world
Ro has always been a bit of a tough nut to crack when it comes to hay. Ideally, she’d have hay in front of her 24/7, but if you feed her too much hay, she just spreads it around. Once she spreads it around, it moves into the “inedible” column in her world, and she won’t eat it.
So feeding her is a constant balancing act between giving her enough hay to keep her busy until the next feeding, but not so much that she decides it’s expensive bedding.
This is further complicated because the coastal I feed and the barn hay are very different qualities. The horses eat the barn hay more slowly, which is good if you want them munching on things for a long while, but not so long if your horse decides the hay is more like a toy put out for her rearranging amusement.
But I think I finally have the answer.
Scenario 1: There is more coastal hay than barn hay in the stall.
Ro: Eats the barn hay.
Scenario 2: There is more barn hay than coastal in the stall.
Ro: Eats the coastal.
Ro isn’t interested in quality or taste or nutrients or anything sensible. She cares about quantity.
Whatever hay she has less of must be better, so she eats that first.
I confirmed this tonight while I was cleaning out her stall, which had a massive mound of hay she wasn’t eating. All of it was barn hay. I took one wheelbarrow full out to her paddock, where I’d already tossed her night’s coastal.
Fresh coastal hay. Barn hay she’d been ignoring in her stall all day. More coastal hay than barn hay.
Guess which one she decided to eat first?
Oh, hay
The barrel race, which was scheduled for last weekend, got canceled. I’m not sure when it will get rescheduled, but I still plan to enter Ro when it does. Just for laughs.
In the meantime, the dressage show that was supposed to happen in December has been rescheduled… again… for Sunday. Barring some freak storm that blows in and ruins those plans, Ro and I will be there.
Although, to be honest, “show” is stretching it a bit. It’s more like a Ride A Test thing—ride your test, get feedback from the judge, and ride it again. My goal is just to stay in the arena and maybe, you know, do some things that look more or less like the test movements. If they happen in the right gaits, that will be a bonus.
I suppose I should go memorize the tests…
In the meantime, I am facing the rather painful reality that I still can’t back up my trailer. Earlier this week, we went to pick up another load of hay, which was good—it meant I got to haul the trailer around again. But we didn’t actually unload the hay, which meant I didn’t actually back up the trailer. I didn’t even back it up when we parked—we were so hungry by then, I turned the keys over so we could unhook quickly and go get food.
So tonight I decided I would unload the hay—it needed to be done anyway, and I could practice backing up the trailer.
I thought ahead just enough to get the truck hooked up to the trailer before it got dark, and then I waited for everyone to leave the barn.
This was going to be some stealth backing. Besides, it’s more fun to back up in the dark. Who wants to see stuff before you hit it, anyway?
I will say this—I think I got down the barn aisle more quickly than I did the last time. I’ve kind of figured out the way it handles when I am going straight-ish (people more experienced than me would be able to go straight. I go backwards like a drunken duck, but I get there eventually).
Then I had to go park the thing. I had two choices: park it where it was before, between two other trailers, or go park it on the far end of things, where I could be yards and yards away from everyone. It was dark. One of those choices was sensible, given my inexperience backing up the trailer. The other wasn’t. Guess which one I picked?
It took me a couple tries to get the trailer lined up, but I got it parked back in its original spot, without hitting anything.
So, the backing straight-ish thing is coming along nicely. Tomorrow I need to hook it up again and work on turning while backing. That is a total mystery to me—I really haven’t figured out how quickly it will turn, or how far I can turn the wheel before I risk jackknifing, or any other minor details like that.
Ro, meanwhile, is doing great. Tonight she tried spooking at a leaf in the road just to see if she could get away with it, but she was very sensible when we went to work. She seems so happy lately, which makes me happy.
Our eventing training begins
My goals in life are simple.
Fame? I hate being the center of attention. No fame for me. Fortune? I wouldn’t know what to do with lots of money.
No, all I ask from life is to one day be the Supreme World Grand Champion of Wave at the Jumps as You Pass By Eventing.
I like the idea of eventing, you see. I’m less sure about the actual, you know, jumps and stuff.
Of course, even at the most basic levels of eventing, you have to have a horse. I don’t think there’s a Stick Horse division or a Lead Your Horse on Course division… yet. I can always hope.
So I have started Ro’s Someday Eventer training.
I don’t know much about eventing, but I know water is involved.
Last week, the arena had puddles in it. Perfect! After a hard lunging session, when I needed to walk her out anyway, I took her into the arena and marched boldly up to the puddle. I figured I would walk right on the edge, and she could walk through the water.
Ro walked up to it, looked at it, and sidestepped neatly behind me and followed me along the edge.
She could die if her hooves get wet and muddy. She knows it. She’s not sure why I don’t know that, but she’ll walk around puddles all day long until I get a clue.
Eventually, I gave in and walked across the widest part of the puddle. Eventually, she followed me across, although she thought it was a pretty stupid thing to do.
I’m not sure what we learned there. Let’s hope it was “water doesn’t actually kill you” and not “stupid tricks you can get your human to do, #67.”
Let’s hope that at the wanna-be eventing level water is optional. We clearly have a ways to go on that.
However, I am pretty sure that even at the wanna-be level, you have to at least go over poles on the ground.
So this past week I also pulled out a cavalleti and lunged her over it, just to see what she’d do with it.
First, as a pole on the ground. After kicking it a few times, she figured out that she could pick up her feet over it.
Then I raised it just a little. She didn’t quite jump it, but she did take big, bounding strides over it. Unfortunately, she has no idea whatsoever of distance. She went over it however she got to it.
The next day, I pulled the cavalleti out again while I was riding. I figured that I could rate her to the pole a little and help introduce her to the concept of distance.
Here’s what we learned: Cantering Poles is Fun.
Galloping Poles Is Even More Fun.
I see a lot of walking and trotting over poles in our future. A lot.
But the promising thing is that she likes them. She’s till figuring out what to do with them, but she thinks poles are very exciting.
Through all of this, she wasn’t really jumping anything. Big, bounding canter strides, sure, but not really jumping. I’m not worried about this; I’ve seen her jump shadows before, so I know she can jump. The rest will come.
Then today—today I got on just to walk and trot her around. She’s had a few days off, so I figured a light hack would be good.
It was more like: walk… walk… walk… tro—- canter… canter… canter… I’m tired and want to walk… walk… walk… tro—-canter, canter, canter, canter, whoa I’m out of shape… walk… tro—would you stop asking for the trot? I want to canter, canter, canter….
We like the canter. It’s fun.
We did trot eventually, but first we had to canter around. And jump a depression where a puddle used to be.
Ah ha! See? My pony jumps. She jumps things that aren’t there.
That’s talent.
So, here is what we’ve learned from all of this: we can be eventers one day.
As long as no trotting is required, no water is involved, and the jumps are invisible.
How we weather the weather down here: Finally Friday
‘Twas the night before storm fall, and all through the news
Not an anchorman was hedging, without even a pause:
The snow fall is coming; we’ll count it by inches!
The city was planning for Dooms Day on Earth
With shut-downs of schools, offices and all
That might be impacted by the snow-yet-to-come.
My horse was deep-bedded, to her hocks in her hay
And my cats and I snuggled under a blanket or two.
The snow could come falling: one inch, two, or three!
And then in the morning, I woke with excitement—
I sprang from my bed to see how much had fallen
Away to the window I flew like a flash
Opened the curtains and drew up the blinds
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
But pavement bone dry and grass brown and drear.
It was kind of a bust, to be honest.
All that hype about the Historic Storm, and there was nothing—nothing!—at my apartment complex. After a couple minutes of peering around, I did see some ice on some pine needles, and some other ice caught on shingles on the roof of the building next to mine.
The news did say that there were over 100 accidents in four hours, and the tollways were closed down by midmorning. Although we didn’t get snow, apparently some parts of town got hit pretty hard by ice.
I just shrugged and started working. From home—no way I was getting on the roads.
After work, I headed out to the barn to sort Ro out for the night. For the last time, I hope, I put my buckets in the truck. I buckled myself in, turned on the truck, checked my mirrors, and saw a Fun House quality distorted view of the world.
There was probably a solid 1/8 inch of ice on both my side mirrors. Because it was a flat sheet, I couldn’t chip it off; there was nothing to even start chipping away at, and even if there had been, the ice was too thick for my Texas version of an ice chipper (read: my credit card).
I ended up steaming an old towel in the microwave and using that to melt off the ice enough so that I could chip it.
Out at the barn, everything was good. Ro’s turned out tonight for the first time in ages, which she is thrilled about.
Tomorrow temps are back up in the 50s, so she’s going back to work. She probably won’t be thrilled about that, but life can’t be one big all-you-can-eat buffet forever.