It's been a weird couple of weeks

Lameness issue just about solved. She had very hidden thrush in her hoof! I feel so awful; a relatively simple fix and yet there were no clear signs. It must've been very painful. Once we found it, I cleaned her hoof and through the frog up to the back of the hoof very deeply. I have to say the smell was just below rotten meat. Ugh. It seems to have more or less disappeared, and she's moving much more gracefully. However, she is very much the type to learn what gets her out of work, and since this put her on a lot of off-time, she's not at all happy that we're back at it.

There were a few months a little while back where I was able to work with her every day, and dare I say it, she may have begun to enjoy the work and the exercise. Setbacks happen, shitty schedules happen, and then things fall apart a bit. I'm horrible at understanding the way things like this work. I refuse to accept that there is an ebb and flow, and I take it very personally when things aren't perfect.

Last week she lived in her own private paddock! Usually she lives with about ten other horses, in a huge pasture. It's pretty muddy, while the paddock is nice and dry; she stayed there so her thrush could dry up. She's never spent the night in any other situation, so imagine our surprise to find that she was thrilled at the luxury suite. And suddenly, it was like she was a totally different being: snuggling, being playful. Even almost enjoying work again. I work awfully inflexible hours at my job, and I was stressed at how this winter would be at all productive. I wouldn't get to the barn until it was dark, and it didn't strike me as appealing to haul myself through the pasture and other horses with only the light of the moon and maybe a flashlight to guide me. Not to mention bitter cold, ice, and the other absolutely horrific things that come with the season.

She's now in a run-in stall with one other horse. As of yesterday, she was not pleased. Were I a horse, a run in would be so ideal! A place to get cozy in inclement weather, and then the wonderful outside, both at my disposal. Cheyenne is simply unsure about leaving the stall part. She thinks I've left her in a tiny box to rot and be miserable, and she tells me about it. She even tried to bite me when I wouldn't let her out. And yet, Cheyenne, if you take three steps you will have sunshine, grass, hay, and even a buddy.

At first I was so extraordinarily heartbroken that my horse is not a big puppy dog who loves me all the time no matter what. But I always knew this about her and really all horses. I recall also how needlessly and pointlessly mean and cruel I was to my mama when I was 13.

Sorry mom.

Anyway. Good and bad news come from these weird two weeks.

The Barn is A Balm

There is magic to the barn. I don't know if this is the same situation at every barn; I have found it difficult to relate to complete order and tidiness, to strict social codes, to any predetermined codes at all, really. Cheyenne grew up on this farm, and I think the stars aligned for me to end up there. Not just for Cheyenne. 

The thing about riding stables is that they inherently have a tight-knit community that can be really hard to break into for a variety of reasons. Sometimes they are snooty or extremely competitive and become cliquey and judgey. Sometimes, and this is my preferred barn, they are ragged and do-it-yourself and everyone involved with the barn is close because they’ve all created this thing together, they’ve watched their children grow up in the barn, they’ve become friends outside of the horse world, helping each other through life. Not to say there can’t be crossovers, but I’m not interested in going to a barn with intricately patterned brick aisles. I’m not interested in whose horse is the best or who is getting ribbons. I’m interested in learning and growing with an animal and feeling safe and cared about by the people I’m working with. 


But anyway—no matter what, it’s hard to break into. There are these 20+ year histories between many of the people. It’s not that a newcomer is inherently bad or frustrating, or threatening, instead it’s just that it’s not easy to absorb someone into something so big and complicated. That was my feeling, coming here. I was intimidated and afraid and knew from the start what kind of community I was stepping into. The beautiful thing is that these people want to include whoever they can, and they may have only known me a bit less than a year, but they’re really excited and proud of me whether it be that I finally got field boots or that I got a new, fancy job. Slowly I’m making bonds, often I’m feeling awkward or misplaced, but mostly I am insanely thankful to be a part of a place like this. 

To top it off, this barn is beautiful. There’s Something here, too, something very healing and comfortable and also a little wild. I love that the barn is made of wood that’s falling apart. I love the dirt floors. I try to take pictures of the view from the barn but it’s impossible to do it justice and that’s why I so badly want to bring friends there, because it always makes my heart stop. The mountains and the sky that goes forever. And you’re surrounded by lush fields and horses and trees. My horse is kept in a rather large herd which often has reign of a larger pasture. Sometimes this means a long walk to get her out of the pasture, but it’s become a zen experience where I have to be okay with a bit of a hike. One day I was doing this walk, and I came to a little stream that had formed after some rains and I realized I hadn’t been in the woods in a while. Even better, I really made myself look around and I then realized I’d never been in this situation before: There were horses walking with me across the river, saying hi in their own way. It felt magical, and I wish I could show you just how magical this place feels. 

Lately a barn visit isn't complete without spending time with any horse willing to get their neck scratched, watching a hen with chicks, snuggling a chicken (!) or observing some other wonderful little piece of nature happening casually, as it should be. 

Happy Birthday Cheyenne! / The issue of lameness

It's Cheyenne's 13th birthday! Yay!

On this wretchedly hot day, Cheyenne got an apple, carrots and some peppermints. I love this girl to pieces. I can't wait to celebrate all the way up until 43, and if she's able, 53! 

On the tougher side, Cheyenne has been lame on and off for about a month. Since we've been together, we've had several frustrating little issues, vaguely medical. They've appeared to be more serious than they truly were, and usually she's just been one among many horses to suffer the issue. 

Way back in March, she had a respiratory issue. It first appeared as potentially colic. This horrified me, and I am easy to fluster especially over something I really love. It cleared up with some dexamethasone, antibiotics and SmartBreathe. Due to the weather this winter, many area horses were experiencing it. 

She's got sort of a preciously awkward conformation--short legs, big and stocky build. This complicates her movements a bit, and means many things lie on me to help correct her balance while we're riding. She trips a lot, for one. She's also always had this little head bob at the trot which would generally be a sign of lameness. But I never sensed anything MORE than a head bob. 

Lately she seemed truly off. I am lucky to have extremely knowledgable horse people at my disposal, and our course of action was to bring her work load down, and use hoof strengthening ointment. Is ointment the proper term? Well, anyway. I've kept that up, and it's come and gone. 

Observations now:

This summer has been very hot and dry and the horses are spending a ton of time stomping on the hard ground at the disgusting flies. They are merciless, and Cheyenne seems especially sensitive to them. She stomps almost constantly. One of my trainers heard from a vet that this has been a widespread issue for footsoreness lately. 

She's got attitude, and she's a very smart horse. She manipulates and works hard to get out of working. This makes it very hard to diagnose serious issues, because she'll fake anything if she doesn't feel like doing more than eating. 

Conditioning! As I've said, we've had a tough run with a proper exercise schedule. Taking an intense lesson every few days just might not be right for her. She may very well need daily or every other day workouts, to keep prepared for when she's asked for more. 

I don't know. I'm sharing this because I'm scared, per usual, that something horrific will happen to this creature I have come to love more than life. 

The aforementioned trainer, who is a lovely woman, said the greatest thing to me. And I'll say more about this some other time, because there's a big part of Cheyenne and I that needs to be explained. But this is what I say to myself over and over again:

 It’s a partnership. Sometimes you’re ready, and your partner isn’t. Sometimes your partner is ready, and you’re not… It is what it is. 

Always keep this in mind. 

Lazy Evening Stroll

I'm well aware that both Cheyenne and I need to focus on conditioning. I'm working a 45 hour a week job, and I know it could be worse, but it's really kicking my ass and putting a huge damper on quality time with Cheyenne.

She really needs work every day, and really, I really need her everyday.

But today was such a hot day, and such a frustrating and long day. I wanted to be with her but I didn't feel like tacking up or asking much under saddle. I decided to take her for a walk. You know, like a dog.

She's got spookiness issues and immense attachment issues to the barn. That's a long story I have to explain, but it's shaken my confidence enough that there are times when the relationship is anything but productive. I want to change that, because I love this horse so much, and we could grow so much from it.

So we went for a walk, which she wasn't thrilled about, but she got to munch on some beautiful lush grass a bit down the driveway. When we got back to the barn, my lovely riding coach's boyfriend had left me summer squash in a plastic bag, which Cheyenne sufficiently panicked about.

It was a beautiful and easy moment to work on bombproofing her. She didn't love it, and she freaked out a couple of times, but she eventually let me rub the plastic bag all over her. And only gave me a shitty look. It's a step.

Getting Judged

This is how I'm going to start this blog. I've had it stewing in mind for all these months--there are countless things to say when you're starting out with your first horse and making mistakes and learning. But I'm beginning at a landmark, so pardon me if things get nonsensical or weird. 

But here we go. 

First off, I cannot stand being judged which I recognize has become something of a character flaw. I don't think I have a superiority complex or the idea that I am never wrong, but I really take things too personally for my own good. This made school just next to impossible for me and it's likely I missed out on a lot of opportunities, blah blah. But really, being told your flaws is not fun, period, but being a lazy perfectionist means it feels super degrading and like I am a hopeless piece of shit. Even if critique is only to better oneself, I just take it too far, and it's insane. 

You learn in life that anything you find difficult or complicated you will be able to avoid. But eventually you will have to face its ugly face directly, and you think you're fucked, but it turns out that you're not. 

When I got Cheyenne I was excited to work with her, to strive for something. To make goals, to reach them, to pat ourselves on our backs. While it is solidly possible to do these things without more official meters like the show ring, if you're in a schooling environment,  showing is going to be very encouraged. 

With good reason, too. An objective judge can give you new insight on your training, reinforce your strengths and maybe throw a curveball topic to work on. 

So ANYWAY we rode in a Dressage show today. Two tests; Intro Level Test B to get our confidence up and Training Level Test 1 to show off what we're truly working on as a team. 

Yay us, because we placed first in Intro Level. Admire Cheyenne:

It was a dream ride, especially considering we hadn't spent a considerable amount of time riding this test. Which, honestly, showed because our comments were that our accuracy could use some improving. I have a hard time remembering just where transitions are, so thank god for directions like "between E and K," but even then I get things mixed up. In that case, I would make the transition right at E which is absolutely not the same thing as doing it in between. 

While more advanced tests gradually ask for more accuracy, following directions is also awesome, and having that much space to transition is a GIFT, so let's use it while we have an excuse to! 

Our Training Level test was not our best, nor was it a complete loss. Again, accuracy. We need to work on our balance and communication, keeping steady tempo and not thinking too far ahead. 

Cheyenne still challenges my skill and authority and also my patience. She's a sensitive and sort of whiny creature and unfortunately I am prone to cooing "oh baby, what's wrong? You wanna stop? Sure, you sweet angel, anything for you!" In reality, Cheyenne is probably often faking to get out of work. She has a history of doing this, I hear. There are little things that happen through every ride that are part of this issue: is she about to keel over or is she just being pissy? This is frustrating and causes me to look like an idiot momentarily, or at least feel like one. That was the kind of ride we had today in our second test. After a week's worth of hard preparation, she was probably very tired and very over it. 

Conditioning, my friends, conditioning. And always, love and respect.

It was a good experience. I'm going to do it more.