An Embarassment of Riches...

The last week and half has been an absolute blast for Sug and I.  Last Saturday we got to ride over the grounds of the USET Headquarters at Hamilton Farms (sqeeeeeeaaaalllll!) on a hunter pace and on Monday we took part in a gymnastics clinic given by eventing legend Jim Wofford. (Double squeeeeeaaaalllll!)

The Somerset Hills Pony Club Hunter Pace almost didn't happen for us, as it was pissing down rain the day before and the forecast for Saturday looked bleak.  However, the closer we got the forecast improved to the point where it looked like we'd have a window of good weather in the morning so we got up extra early and made it work.  My friend Marissa and I are fair-weather riders. I mean, really, 8 miles in the rain is not our idea of fun - we're not the pony express, for god's sake - but it's not like normal horse people have lots of chances to ride on grounds where the legends of this sport have ridden, so darned if we were going to miss this opportunity!

As I mentioned above, Sug and I rode with our usual partners in crime, Marissa and her horse Tucker, of Tucker the Wunderkind fame.  Tucker and Sug get on like a house on fire, as do Marissa and I, so anytime we can ride together is a hoot and a half.

Now what have you dragged me into?

We thought we were going to ride all over the old cross country course and some of the training facility that is left. Sadly, much of the grounds have been sold off to create a golf course (Boy, did we ever want to go rogue and gallop over those perfectly manicured greens!) and homes in a gated community called the "Cottages at Hamilton Farm." Cottages my ass!  These things are enormous!  My home could fit five times over in one of those "cottages."

The ride meandered over some of the old training grounds (we passed some of the extra schooling rings) and the system of trails that go throughout the old Hamilton Farm estate.  It continued over some of the  neighboring estates.  Holy crap, were these things ever gorgeous!  Enormous old mansions situated on acre after acre of rolling hills - this is truly how the 1% live.  Some were still working farms, occupied by sheep and cattle.  Marissa and I rode past with our jaws hanging open, gawking at the sheer size and beauty of these homes (palaces?).  We starting playing the fantasy game, picking which one was going to be ours (like we could afford even 1/100th of these properties).

We called this one "Pemberly"

Tucker thinks he could live here

Curious onlookers

It had rained the night before so the footing in some areas was mucky.  Madame Mare is definitely not a "mudder" and let her displeasure be known by grunting and complaining as she picker her way through the muck.

I think that's a bit unfair.  I'd just gotten and mani -pedi and new shoes and I didn't want them ruined!

When we did have good footing, we'd trot or canter.  At one point there was a gorgeously manicured straightaway next to a line of trees, and Marissa and I decided it was the perfect place to pick up a canter.  Marissa nudged Tucker into a canter, and I cued Sug.  Her Majesty interpreted my request to mean "Take off like a bat out of hell" and complied.  Marissa, hearing us thundering up from behind, figured we wanted to gallop and let Tucker go.  At this point Sug channeled her inner Secretariat and hit a gear I'd never before encountered on her.  Seriously, I've never gone that fast on a horse, and more to the point, had no clue Sug could hit that kind of speed.  It was what I call "Oh Shit" exhilarating.  You know, where part of you is 13 again and having a blast, while the over 40 part is considering how pear-shaped this could go and wondering if your healthcare would cover the kind of catastrophic accident that would result from this idiocy.

Wheeeeeeee!!!!!  This is awesome!  Wheeeeeeee!!!!!!! Eat my dust, suckers!!

I had a hell of a time pulling Sug up at the end of the straightaway. I literally felt like I was water skiing, with my feet up by her ears and my body back on her butt, hauling back on the reins in an effort to stop the runaway train my mare had become.  She wanted no part of stopping, and had her head up in the air and was shaking her head to avoid my attempts to put on the brakes.  When she finally acquiesced to my request, she refused to walk quietly next to Tucker.  Tucker had come back to a relaxed walk, and my sassy 18 year-old senior citizen was up on her toes, jiggy and shaking her head from side to side.

Didja see me?  Didja see how fast I was going???  Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, ain't nobody as fast as me!

After a while Sug finally condescended to walk normally, and we wound through woods and fields as we finished the rest of the 8-mile trek.  At this point a few clouds had rolled in, but it was nothing that looked imminently dangerous, so we didn't worry. Well, clearly we are never gonna be weathermen, because the sky let out with a tremendous crash of thunder, startling us and the horses.  We were in shock, as the sky was mostly blue with only a couple of gray clouds - whoever heard of thunder coming from a mostly blue sky?? We couldn't believe our ears, but then a few more huge rumbles and sprinkles of rain convinced us the weather was serious and we picked up the pace as best we could for the rest of the ride.

Happy mare

We finished before the skies opened up, scraped the mud off and groomed up our tired ponies and rewarded them with pieces of Entenmann's chocolate frosted donuts, which made the whole activity worthwhile for Sug.  She does love her donuts!  After we rewarded Sug and Tucker, Marissa and I rewarded ourselves with donuts and mimosas, our traditional post-pace treat. 

And all was well in our worlds.

(Promise - I'll try to get to the Wofford clinic recap soon.)

Bays for Boobies

Next time we'll be wearing pink and Riding for the Cure!

Dear Friends of AWIP,

I hesitated before writing this post, because you are friends and there's a trust factor there and I don't want you to feel I've ever abused your trust.  However, after doing some serious thinking, I feel strongly enough about this that I'm going to go ahead and post this.



As you may know, in the United States, a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer every three minutes.  We’ve all known someone – a friend, family member, or colleague – who has been affected by this disease.  Often when a friend or loved one tells us they are facing this particular challenge, we feel helpless to do anything.  I know i felt that way when a dear friend shared her diagnosis with me.

I would like to do something, however small, to help end this horrible disease, and so Sug and I (together with our friends Marissa and Tucker from Tucker the Wunderkind) are participating in the Ride for the Cure Central and South Jersey on Sunday, October 20, 2013  - a trail ride to help end breast cancer forever.  We've called our team "Bays for Boobies." Others (read: “normal, non-horsie people”) might participate in one of the Komen Race for the Cure run/walk events, but you know I don’t run anywhere unless someone is chasing me so we are doing it this way...

I am asking if you'll consider helping by donating in support of our efforts, if your circumstances allow.  Seventy-five percent of all proceeds benefit local breast cancer education and screening programs.  This year, the affiliate invested $1.1 million into the local community to reach 25,000 women with breast cancer education and provide 8,000 free mammograms.  The remaining 25% will support innovative breast cancer research bringing us closer to the cure.
If you can help by donating, please do so by going to my page.

If donating doesn't work for you this time, that's absolutely okay!  Maybe you could keep Sug and I in your thoughts as we progress in our fundraising efforts, or maybe you can say a quick prayer that a cure is found?  Or maybe you'd prefer to see how you can help efforts in your local community, or find an event you can participate in. You can do so by clicking HERE.  

Thank you all for your friendship and well wishes, and for supporting us in whatever way works for you.  Knowing you guys have our backs is truly special.  

I'll keep you posted on how we do, and of course, as we are planning to deck ourselves and the horses out in all manner of embarrassing pink frippery, there will be pictures.  Lots of pictures.  If you have any ideas on how we can accessorize, please feel free to share your suggestions!

In Which The Sainted Mare is a Complete Twit...

He may look cute and harmless,
but Sug knows he's a deadly mare assassin.

Yep.  Normally she's as bombproof as horse gets. Today, however, the Sainted One's halo slipped. Big Time.

Okay, she's just coming back into work after some time off on the IR so she may be feeling frisky.  However, before her recent boo-boo she was on light duty with the kids while I was sick.  Long story short?  She's fat as a house and very out of shape, which normally makes her lazy as heck.  Portly mares should not be on their toes and on the muscle.  Just sayin'.

It was hot as blazes last night so we did our serious work in the shade of the indoor and she was fine in there.  Lazy, even.  No surprise. Then my son and I decided to cool the horses by walking them in the field.  This will be nice and relaxing, I thought.

I thought wrong.

We were approaching the first field when I noticed the deer.  I turned in my saddle to remind the Boy, the one who was riding the Sensitive Thoroughbred, to keep his weight in his heels and a steady contact with Jame's mouth.  I'd planned on offering additional advice, but before the words had passed my lips The Sainted Mare snorted and did an abrupt 180 to the left, which had my yap snapping shut and forced me to concentrate on staying in the saddle.  Our Mach-1 turn on the haunches left us facing Noah and James and, God help me, the deer that had materialized about 20 feet behind them.  Sug saw that deer and whirled around again, this time to the right.  Somehow I managed to stay in the saddle through this spin as well.  (I've always been really impressed by reiners, but after these spins, they've been elevated to new heights in my estimation.)

The Sensitive Thoroughbred behind us? Stood like a stone the whole time, clearly wondering what the fuss was all about.

Smart people would probably have given up at that point.  Well, I'm not too bright, so onward we went.  We got about 20 yards before we saw more deer; two adolescents were grazing contentedly about 50 yards away.  "Awww, look at the cute deer," we said.  The cute deer were clearly also Rabid Kamikazi Deer, as they took one gander at us and decided to Gallop. Across.The. Field. Directly. At. Us.  Sug took that opportunity to crap herself and do a 360-plant-snort maneuver that had Baby Buck Rabid Kamikazi deer doing the same. Sug snorted and planted her feet again. So did BBRK.  I kid you not.  This really happened.

What did James, the Sensitive Thoroughbred do?  Nothing. Nada. Bupkus.  Just stood and and watched the deer like he was watching some kind of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom re-run.

You'd think I'd have wised up and headed back by now.  You'd be wrong.  I'm a special kind of stupid, it would seem.  A glutton for punishment, even.  By golly, I was gonna put a stop to this spook nonsense and enjoy myself a nice trail ride.  We continued on into the next field, where Sug decided to spook at a tire fence she's seen at least 3200 times.  So we spent some time sight seeing around the tire jump making sure there were no trolls, cougars, or alligators lurking about. 

I finally lost it when she spooked at a crow that had been in our line of sight for-freaking-ever.  At that point I announced that I was officially done with the drama llama crapola and I asked her do shoulders-in and haunches-in and leg yields the rest of the way back to the barn to keep her overactive pea-sized brain concentrating on something other than imaginary predators.  She expressed her displeasure by grunting and huffing, but settled down and refrained from further silliness. 

The Sensitive Thoroughbred followed us quietly home, his halo firmly in place right over the top of his handsome Thoroughbred head. 

The very good Sensitive Thoroughbred
sharing some love with his Boy

The Sainted Mare's Halo Slips...

See the outline of the tennis ball?  Threw the ball
for the dog, missed, and hit the mare's butt.  Karma?

Sometimes you just need to get out of the ring.  To my way of thinking, the ring is the equine equivalent of an office cubicle, or school, and I'm a big fan of playing hooky. 

When I rode with a dressage training maaaaaaannnnnny years ago as a teen, we rarely rode in the ring.  We rode out into the neighbor's fields and did all our work there.  Trust me, if you can get a good shoulder in when there's a hay baler or fractious Labrador in the next field over, you're doing something right.

The other night  Libby, Sophie and I decided to warm up with a small trail ride and then do some fitness work in the field next to the barn.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.  Then it wasn't. We came down the one hill and turned left up the next incline.  Stratego was in the lead, with the pony following behind.  I'd shortened Sugar up quite a bit to keep her from running up the pony's backside. 

Sug didn't appreciate this so much, and I guess her competitive nature kicked into gear a bit because she grabbed hold of the bit and took off.  We rounded the turn like Secretariat rounding for home at the Belmont with me clinging on like a burr.  We passed the pony and she was so pleased by this she let loose with a truly hellacious prop-buck-twist-buck sequence that almost popped my eyeballs out. 

It was a rather athletic effort, wasn't it?  I was quite impressed with myself.

Yes, Sugar. While you were impressing yourself, somewhere in the back of my mind I was remembering Jeff Cook's lesson, "Never look down during a buck or you're gonna land there."  So there I was, eyes to the sky (I think) while trying to plant my butt in the saddle (between bucks) and attempting to stop my rambunctious mare.  Bless her heart, she realized Mom was about ready to tip arse over teakettle and settled into a passage-headshake-passage-snort maneuver that was much easier to sit to.

Consider it a "balance assessment."  It's my job to help you evaluate the improvement of your riding, and I was just throwing in a random skill check.

Thanks, Sug.  You're a peach.  I did pull my big girl pants on and trot around the field some more, doing shoulder ins to keep Ms. Full of Herself busy and out of trouble.  I also made sure to position us either alongside the other horses or in front of them, as it seems while she okay not being trail boss at the walk, Madame Mare does not appreciate being left behind at the faster gaits. 

Lesson learned.  You've still got it, Sug, old girl.

Pfffft. I never thought I lost it.

Today's Horse Hero (Or...Holy Crap! Can You Believe This Story?)

Saw this come across my laptop and had to read the headline several times over before it sunk in:
"Blind 'Superman' Saves Colorado Teenager After Fall From Horse"

Uhhh, come again??  I needed to know more about this.  Seems a teen aged Colorado ranch hand was thrown from her horse and as a result fractured her skull and bruising her brain.  She was unable to walk, and lay where she fell, screaming for help.

Enter Superman.  In this tale, Superman is not Clark Kent, but rather the owner of the ranch the accident occurred on, Keith Day.  Mr. Day has been legally blind since birth.  He can distinguish between dark and light, and some vague large shapes (think of a very blurry, vaguely horse or truck shaped object).  Somehow, he was able to follow the sound of her screams to reach her.  He was able to check her for noticeable breaks, and then somehow managed to carry her hundreds of yards, at one point crossing over a barbed wire fence, to where emergency personnel could reach her.

Pretty jaw-dropping stuff, huh?  Talk about having a guardian angel.

(Not to put a damper on a heartwarming story, but it does kinda makes a good argument that one should always wear a helmet. Just saying.)

Sugar and Cookie Go On a Nature Walk...

Pony Takes Point
(Apologies for the blurriness; Sug was a bit antzy.)

This past weekend I decided we'd had enough of ring work, so Sophie and I took the girls out on a little trail ride.  I've always felt that too much time in the ring is like that classic line from The Shining, " All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." 

About a gazillion years ago I had a wonderful dressage trainer who rarely worked in the ring.  We were lucky enough to have access to all sorts of fields and trails, and I learned that  it completely possible to get a horse to do a leg yield or shoulder in no matter were you were.  In fact, it seemed to better prepare them to listen to the rider no matter what the circumstances were, and it certainly made for happier, fresher horses. 
So, off we go on a beautiful Sunday morning.  The pony decided it was her job to take point, and immediately set off in her little pony power walk, with Sug ambling along good naturedly a few lengths behind.  We'd no sooner set foot in the little wooded area when a trio of crazed chipmunks sped in front of us in a lively game of chase.  For such small creatures, they make a surprising amount of noise. They careened around us for a few minutes while our bemused mounts stood and stared, and then as quickly as they came they were gone.

The next portion of our ride took us into a field, where we were greeted by a red fox.  It was almost as if he had been waiting for us. Cookie looked back at me as if to ask if we were going to give chase, and the fox, clearly no dope, decided he was better off removing himself from the situation.



Are You Following Me?

 On the way back we galloped through the field. As we approached the far end we noticed a deer standing at attention and watching us intently.  Rather than risk a spook and involuntary dismount, we thought it prudent to bring the girls back to a walk and at this pace were able to get within 10 feet of the deer.  Cervidae and equidae stared placidly at each other for few minutes, and then the deer decided to end the staring contest and move off into the forest.  The girls, apparently not done with their new friend, followed.  The doe stopped, turned, and the staring contest recommenced.  We must have stood there, blathering like fools to this poor animal, for about 5 minutes before she trotted off.

It was a great morning.  Nice bonding time with the kiddo (boy, do I hope she remembers this when she's an hormonally imbalanced, angst ridden teenager that hates my guts) and the horses.  Both mares were obviously happy as stoats, moving with long, relaxed necks, swinging walks and letting loose with the occasional gusty sigh. 

I'm now ready to get back into the ring.  What do you to do re-charge your or your horse's batteries?