Not too many words here, just the beautiful place that is Vermont.
I borrowed the barn’s bareback pad to keep those short summer hairs from working their way into my breeches and I’m thrilled with how it worked out. I’ll ride a few more times in it and then see if I can find one with more of a cutaway for his withers.
Vermont has this awesome website called Front Porch Forum. It’s basically an online bulletin board, and it is a source of constant awe to me. I love reading through it, even when I don’t need anything, because it’s absolutely fascinating to see what’s going on.
My favorite day until now was the one in which 5 subsequent postings tracked a loose/lost dog by street, the sixth said “Caught him, he’s in my garage!” and the seventh said “Thanks so much everyone, he’s home now!”
I have a new favorite day: last week, I saw a posting for someone who was giving away a whole bunch of horse stuff. Not just crap, either – good stuff. Side reins, half chaps, saddle pads, selling a nice saddle for a great price.
Top of the list, though, the thing that caught my attention? A Nunn Finer Hunting Breastplate, cob sized, in black with nickel fittings. FREE.
I have wanted a breastplate for Tristan for years. I bought him one about five years ago, in a horse size, and it just swam on him – way too big.
I replied as soon as I saw the posting, waited with baited breath, and then got an email: “Sure, I’d be happy to get it to you – I think it will fit Tristan beautifully!”
Turns out the person giving it away rides at my barn, and recognized Tristan from my email profile picture! Small, small town.
I picked it up a week ago and it is in gorgeous shape, fits perfectly, and is exactly what I have wanted. The black will not match our XC/jumping saddle but I could not possibly care less.
So we’ve had Arya for 3 months now, and she turned nine months old on Tuesday. I thought I’d do a happier update for a Friday afternoon.
In general, she is absolutely wonderful. She’s smart, sweet, and happy. She seems to be My Dog, and follows me from room to room. She loves playing with other dogs, frozen stuffed Kongs, and sleeping.
She think she loves the cat but she’s not entirely sure, due to him being a cat and therefore an asshole 50% of the time. Sometime he is very very nice to her and she gets excited and wants to play and then he flips a switch and smacks her around and hisses and leaves her very confused.
Her only real flaw is that she will. not. stay in a crate. She destroys them. See evidence below: she bites the bars of the door, pulls the bars off their cross-bracing, then either slithers through the hole (crate #1) or shakes the latches loose (crate #2).
Leaving her loose has not been without its flaws, either.
In fact, this week, the day after I got the call about Tristan’s new drama, I came home to find that Arya had knocked down an extra doorbell ringer and chewed it up a little bit. I couldn’t find the battery. She’d also eaten an entire bottle of dog breath mints. Cue an afternoon spent in the waiting room at the vet trying to slide into an appointment spot for an x-ray, and 30 minutes on the phone with a poison control hotline checking the ingredients of the breath mints.
She’s totally fine, and she charmed everyone at the vet office. We had a long conversation with a behaviorist on staff, who says we are doing everything we possibly can in regards to crate training, and she does not present as an anxious dog, just a smart and willful one.
So we are now considering options: keep puppy-proofing in succession, or start a from-scratch separation anxiety program of 4-6 weeks, during which time we’d board her during the day and work on counter-conditioning and positive reinforcement when we’re home with her. Decisions, decisions.
She loves the beach.
She loves my parents’ dog Willow.
And boy,
does she
love
sleeping.
Hell of a week so far.
Tuesday night, I was so upset about the possible keratoma news that I couldn’t force myself to go to the barn. I played with the puppy and read and puttered around at home and had a good crying jag.
Wednesday, I put on my big girl boots and went to the barn, determined to at least sit on him. It wasn’t anything fancy; I kept making myself put one foot in front of the other, do the next thing.
We ended up having a rather nice school: 30 minutes of dressage work, with some nice moments in the lateral work, some nice work in the canter, and just a generally harmonious ride.
Last night, not as much fun but I tried hard to read the horse I had underneath me. I had intended to do another 30 minutes or so of dressage. It was SUCH a gorgeous night I couldn’t bear to be inside, even though I knew he would not be nearly as rideable. Often, we get to the outdoor ring and he just wants to canter madly around on the forehand, which benefits exactly nobody.
We walked all around the field and when we headed into the outdoor I immediately saw that a) he was not going to cooperate and b) the footing had been rained on, hard, and not dragged in a while. It was not dire – we probably could’ve managed just fine – but it was enough to push me into going in to the adjacent field instead.
Nothing fancy: walk and trot around the field, working on rhythm amidst terrain and elevation changes, staying focused. A few strides of canter. A hack up and down the dirt road to finish.
I set the date for his vet appointment: August 6. We’ll do a trot out for the vet (he does not feel off on that foot, but since his comfort level will largely dictate how aggressively we move, it makes sense to get a baseline), pull the shoe, do an x-ray, and have a long chat with vet, farrier, and myself.
Tonight, road hack; this weekend, a wedding out of state, so no riding for me. Pentosan today. Onward and upward, I guess.
As I mentioned, this past weekend I crewed at the Vermont Moonlight 100 for Hannah.
I’ll let her tell the whole story of the ride (so watch her space), but here are a few photos and thoughts from my POV as a crew member.
First, I am sad to report that Hannah did not let me put one single, solitary flake of glitter on Tucker all weekend. I offered repeatedly. I believe I offered just about as often as I offered food and water. Denied, every time. Siiiiiiiiigh.
Vermont Moonlight is a ride with a couple of neat features. First, it is meant as a ride that finishes in the dark, and riders (there’s a 100, 75, and 50 mile race; Hannah did the 50) depart so as to finish late in the night. I sat at the finish line for about 45 minutes from 11:15 pm – 12:00 am and people came in every 2-3 minutes. They light the trail with glowsticks, and for the final path, glowsticks in water jugs that create a sort of runway feel.
Second, it’s run alongside a 100 mile ultramarathon run. Yes. Endurance horses racing alongside people who are running 100 miles – and not just any old 100 miles. Twisting, hilly dirty roads up and down the southern Green Mountains. Many of the runners doing the 100 mile race also had pace runners, who would come in and do 25 or 30 miles with them. You know, for fun. Holy mackerel.
The weekend was not without its complications and adrenaline rushes (see Hannah’s write-up for more) but I am glad I did it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. If I had the right horse, I’d do the ride myself.
[insert primal scream here]
Farrier did Tristan yesterday, and the barn manager called today to have a chat.
There is still an abscess hole in Tristan’s toe. It’s been nearly two years. That abscess hole should NOT be there.
Farrier suspects that there is now (or perhaps always was?) a keratoma at the coronet band, and it’s causing the abnormality down to the toe. Could’ve happened when the original abscess blew out, and grown back now that the scar tissue from that has gone. Could’ve caused the orginal abscess, coffin bone chip, whole ball of wax.
So, what next? I’ll call the farrier and talk to him directly. I’ll probably call my vet and do an x-ray when he gets his next trim.
If it really is a keratoma, we may be in for another invasive procedure and hoof resectioning. More time off. More rehab.
I just…really kind of numb right now.
I think I mentioned in an aside a few days ago that we were on foal watch. (I mean “we” in the most general sense; my only contribution to the effort was chatting with some people as they set up their cots and eating their M&Ms.)
Baby was born early on Tuesday morning. Mom is a large, big-boned mare – I believe Warmblood of some type. (Either that or one of the heavier TBs.) Dad is UB-40.
Baby will be faaaaaaancy! Here he is at 12 hours old.
I honestly can’t remember the last time I came off my horse, you guys. It’s been at least two, maybe three years. Moral of the story: I was due.
I headed out later in the evening, after trading off the puppy and cleaning around the house, tacked up in his jump saddle and figure-8 bridle, and set in for some conditioning & hills work.
Conditioning has proven ever so slightly tricky because on the farm I have too much of a good thing: hills! We’re going up or down as soon as we set foot out the front door. It’s actually harder to find good long straightaways for road hacking. I can’t modify the difficulty level, really.
Last night I tried out a bit of a system that I’d been pondering in my head: namely, circling all the upper paddocks at various gaits. So we started walking around the entire area, about a mile and a half. Then we trotted up the hayfield hill, then walked back down and around the furthest paddocks.
We repeated that for two trot sets, one canter set, and another trot set. The first trot set was ugly; the second perked up halfway through; then after that it was smooth sailing: he was stretching into contact, pushing from behind, and not quitting at the top of the hill.
For the last set, we trotted up the bottom part of the rectangle, then turned and had an easy canter for about 1/3 of the way up. Then I bridged my reins and asked for some speed.
BOOM. He launched himself for about three strides in glee, then chucked his head down and let fly with two or three decent bucks. I was caught totally by surprise, and on the third buck found myself on his neck.
They weren’t running bucks, more like he had bolted, landed, thrown his head down, and bucked mostly in place. I had a split second’s realization that I was going down, and yelled “YOU LITTLE SHIT” at the top of my lungs. I landed on my side and my hip and rolled to my butt, still holding on to the reins, glaring up at him.
He looked so pleased and confused that I couldn’t stop laughing. I stood up, made sure he was steady, and got back on, and within a stride or two asked him for the gallop again.
YAHOOOOO for two or three strides, but this time I was ready and yanked his head back up and KICKED, and then he settled right in to a nice big power gallop the rest of the way up, with firm contact and a fistful of mane on my part. I had to stand up in the stirrups a bit to slow him down when we got to the top of the hill.
He was clearly sweaty and tired and very pleased with himself. I laughed the whole way back to the barn, and then turned him out into a gravel paddock to hang out and finish cooling off, bringing a bucket and sponge out instead of using the wash stall.
Best part: other than my hips & thighs from the two-point work I did, I am not the slightest bit sore from the fall. Whew!
He’ll get tonight off, then a dressage school Thursday, then road hack on Friday.
I bet quite a few of us have some horsey art on our walls. Last night, I decide to go around and catalogue all the horse-related art or decorating I have. In the process, I discovered that the disposition of art on our walls is basically 50% horses, 20% old maps, 20% 1940s propaganda or tourism posters, and 10% seriously geeky stuff like, you know, a replica of the painting that Adama has in his office on the Galactica. We have an atypical, geeky sort of style.
So here’s the horse stuff, attributed when I can.
Some of us have a lot of ideas and thoughts, well probably all of us. So this is your time to shine and really make a ruckus (no really actually let’s not fight about this we can all just agree to disagree about stuff). What is 1 unpopular horsey opinion you have?
beljoeor.com 