Monthly Archives: February 2011

Operation Pony Express: Day 1

Erin’s mailbox is across the street from the main entrance to the ranch. It’s a busy road, the main thoroughfare for this part of the county, and it has a wide variety of vehicle, pedestrian, and bicycle traffic.

In the spirit of putting principles to purpose as I am back on my progressive journey after a six-month workalanche, I have decided that Rocky and I will check the mailbox and deliver the mail to the barn. Occasionally some mail arrives for one of the cottages on the property, so we will have to make a mail stop at each door, just in case.

I think it might take more than seven sessions before I’m ready to cross the street to the mailbox.  But we made more progress today than I expected.

Rocky was patient while I brushed him, picked out his feet, and put on his EasyBoot Gloves and his Professional’s Choice SMB Boots, which I recently remembered that I have. He looked sharp with the black wraps around all four shins, and the black boots in the front.

We walked down the ranch road to the side gate, playing a few games along the way to remind him that he can walk in all that velcro, and then ambled down the side lane to the dreaded busy road. He was alert but not panicky about this, and we stopped to graze for a while next to the front fence. When he tried to go forward past the fence line, I yo-yoed him back from 12 feet away in zone 2, totally taking for granted that we can do that.

When enough motorcycles and trucks with tarps and cyclists with florescent green windbreakers had gone by, and Rocky and I worked out a rule that if he spooks he has to go backwards, not into the hotwire fence and not into me and definitely not into the fence and then me, we turned to our right and began walked along the verdant bank between the road and the fence.

All of the horses in our turnout paced us on Rocky’s right and I walked on his left a little bit in front, so if he did go suddenly forward or sideways I was not in the way.

Up to that point, we had not done anything new. He’s worn those boots and splint boots before, although not at the same time, and he’s walked down the lane and across the busy road to do the loop walk, veering left from the lane-meets-road interaction.

We have about 15 feet between fence and road, although not 15 feet of usable space due to ditches and shrubbery. Between the lane and the main drive is the seasonal creek, which did not have any water in it today but certainly had soft mud and enough of a ditch that he had to walk through it or hop over it.

The teenage boys across the street were taking turns riding a mini-bike in the shape of a Harley or Honda cruiser, and were going slowly enough down the road that it was excellent friendly game for Rocky. (They have horses over there too; I don’t know if that was the maximum speed for the little kit bike or if they were being polite.)

At the drive, I asked him to back away from the road, and let him graze for a while. Occasionally the head went up and the eye wide and staring, and I did the “don’t go there!” rope wiggle to keep him from retreating inside. We were both alert — him at the surroundings, me at him — but nobody panicked fully and he did look to me for guidance from time to time.

We walked back to the lane, paused to graze, spooked (backwards!) at a backfiring Harley, then repeated the route to the drive and back. the last time, Rocky rushed the creek, scrambling in a half trot half jump, so I had him do just the creek one more time, over and back, in a sedate manner.

Then back up the lane, through the gate, onto the ranch, a squeeze game in the creekbed near the lawn, and finally more grazing. I stripped him and put him away with a good feeling about having been provocative and progressive without pushing him too quickly past any thresholds.

He’s still holding himself a little aloof, as he has since the flank rope day. But by the end of today’s session he was softer with me and stayed at his gate watching me go back to the house when we were done.

Maybe tomorrow I will back him through all gates and sideways him down part of the lane on the way out and part of it on the way back, but only step onto the strip between lane and drive to graze, and then come back in to familiar territory. To mix it up while also spending more time in his comfort zone.

Categories: Language, Leadership, On-Line, Thresholds | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

Carried along by the River of dreams

But he learned more from the river than Vasudeva could teach him. He learned from it continually. Above all, he learned from it how to listen with a still heart, with a waiting, open soul, without passion, without desire, without judgment, without opinions. ~ Herman Hesse, Siddartha

River will be joining our family this month, as soon as I can get the paperwork and payments processed. Her AQHA name is AR I’ll Be Powderific, and she is by I’ll Be Smart and out of Powder River Smoker by Powder River Playboy. None of this meant anything to me, or mattered, until I fell in love and realized that every single thing about this filly is wonderful and fun, including pictures and “stats” about her relatives.

She is an innate LBE with a medium spirit, about 14.3 hands, a “long yearling” who turns two for realsies in April. She is curious about everything and checks in often when she’s not sure what a person is asking, and she is quick to provide her own ideas when mine become unclear or boring.

Trailer from pasture to playground

I’ve known since the Parelli Reno Celebration 2008 that if I ever got another horse, it would be from Atwood Ranch Naturally (or some other Parelli-certified place, should that come to pass, although with Atwood Ranch Naturally only two hours from where we live, it would still make sense to go there).

Atwood Ranch Naturally and Parelli Natural Horsemanship

My reasons for this decision are many. Obviously, partnering with a sound horse who has had the least amount of human-related trauma and baggage possible is an amazing and sensible dream.

But I also get to support two horse businesses that align with my principles, and to grow a relationship with of them, in a very tangible way. I get to put my money where my mouth is — horses are being given away free in this economy, and I chose to enter a purchase contract where I feel I’m getting an unbelievable bargain and value, while the business earns some return on their investment and knows that I am financially as well as emotionally committed to this horse.

Atwood Ranch Naturally, Orland, CA January 2011

And I get to be a part of history, as Tom Atwood wins his gamble of “going Parelli” in such a public way. What other major brand, so visible in professional and competitive equine pursuits, would be so thorough in revamping the entire horse operation and co-brand the marketing and then have to wait a few years for the foal crops to grow up enough to win respect and visibility?

It’s a big deal from a business perspective that a fish as big as Atwood Ranches would leap into the PNH pond so visibly, what with so many people willing to heap vitriol on PNH. (I’m not talking about criticism or disagreement based on information and knowledge of whatever parts of PNH the person disagrees with; I’m talking about the judgments and gossip based on assumptions, defensiveness, misunderstandings, willful ignorance, rumor, and the need to be “right” that people spew online and in person to anyone who accidentally stands still long enough to hear it.)

Emil and Margaret ZugnoniI didn’t expect to be able to do these things for another few years, but my grandparents — always supportive of my love of horses, proud when I was able to scrape it together to get Rocky — have made it possible to take the leap of faith now.

Grandpa passed away in his sleep just before Christmas at the age of 96. He was a Purple Heart veteran of WWII who went on to be a police officer in the San Francisco bay area for 25 years. During the racing season he daylighted as a security guard at the Golden Gate Fields racetrack. He retired from the police force the year I was born but kept the racetrack job until he was 75, when they couldn’t make any more exceptions to their age limit for guards even though he was fitter than most of the 50-somethings he worked with.

Grandma passed away almost 10 years ago in her late 80s. She was one of the first women to graduate from University of California, Berkeley, with a degree in mathematics in 1937; it was a time when women were not allowed to take the CPA exam to become full accountants, but she didn’t let that stop her from pursuing her education, her passion for numbers, or her career. She worked at the local plant nursery as a bookkeeper, kept a sensible household budget, and always made wise investments, managing their modest salaries into a comfortable retirement and a legacy to their descendants.

As a child I got to spend an entire weekend or school break with them a few times a year, and grandpa would get a pass that allowed grandma to take me into the stables at Golden Gate Fields where we could watch the horses being groomed, bathed, medically treated, walked, fed, wrapped, hot-walked, cooled off, and all the other things that make up the racehorse’s daily routine. Just being around the horses, existing in that space and time, was transcendent.

I took my grandparents’ love and willingness to get horsey for granted, back then. And if they didn’t want me to spend my inheritance on horses instead of investing it wisely, it’s their own fault. 😉

A character in Longshot, one of my favorite Dick Francis novels, refers to the racehorses as “great elemental creatures.” Not a day of my life passes without a sense of awe and wonder that I should be this lucky, to have the privilege of partnership with my own herd of elementals, and to undertake this lifelong journey with them.

We all end in the ocean, we all start in the streams, we’re all carried along by the river of dreams in the middle of the night…

Categories: Love | 2 Comments

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