Memory Monday: The Auction

If anyone reading doesn't know my past, I grew up riding in the camp world on horses that were donated to the program.

As I grew older, I was more involved in their care and networking horses that needed a home as well as helping new horses find their way to camp.

There is an annual horse auction at one of my former universities.  It's usually horses in training that are sold, but they sell lesson horses as well.  I am not quite sure how it happened, but a friend and I decided we should buy a horse and give it to the camp, since they could use another solid horse.

I talked to people involved in the program and picked out one or two that were promising.  However, during the actual auction, the prices went too high. 

Then an Arabian gelding went through.  I didn't know a lot about him, but his rider had said he had been shown in 4H.  He looked cute.  We took a chance and purchased him for a couple hundred dollars.

What did we buy?

His name was Alex.

I had a bridle back in my dorm room, so I hopped on him bareback with this snaffle bridle.  He seemed pretty solid.  He was quick and agile.  I had high hopes and off to camp he went.

Fast forward time (as time always seems to go) and he has been incredible.  The best horse carrying small children on trail rides.  My first choice for leading out horses to the furthest fields.  An ideal horse to learn flying lead changes on.

He has been in the riding program there for nine years I think now.  Barefoot, sound, and full of spunk.

He is 25 now.  I hope he has many more happy years ahead of him!  I'd say he was a once in a lifetime, unintended auction purchase.

Memory Monday: I Can See Clearly Now...

The rain is gone..

Another old memory.  We needed to take the herd out.  They were restless.  It was storming and the paths were getting slick.  The rain pelted us, soaking through the little clothes we had on in the relentless summer humidity.  Oh Midwest, why does it have to be so humid?  Finally, a short break in the storm, but the heavy rains continued.  We were brave folks.  We'd do our jobs regardless.

We needed to go to a farther pasture.  The horses had eaten down all the grass in the close fields.  Time to go further.  I was nervous: a further run and more chance for trouble of course.  Trees to run into, horses to avoid jostling.  They liked to buck and run and trip while galloping out to fresh grass.

I chose a reliable horse.  Several of us liked to call him Meatball, although that really wasn't his name.  Your typical stock horse.  Good gaits and smooth and steady in the herd.  I didn't particularly want to sit a bucking horse on that run in soaking weather.

I bellied up onto his warm, wide back.  He was comfortable to sit on bareback, an added bonus.  He wasn't always the fastest horse, so I decided to sit in the middle with the herd as they went out.  Leading was always my favorite, but this was fine too. 

The horses milled around anxiously in the corral waiting to be released.  The leader left with her steed.  The herd burst forth, like a river overflowing its banks.

I went with them, like another salmon in a mass migration.  My job was fairly simple: make noise and keep the energy of the herd up and moving.  If the herd stopped, stragglers would break off and leading them out would be nearly impossible.

The first few moments of the run went well.  His strong hindquarters bunched up easily underneath him as we set off in a slow canter.  Rain pelted my eyes and made it hard to see.  However, I knew what was next.

I was not a fearful rider, but this moment made me hesitate just a bit.  Part of the path which we needed to take was a fairly steep downwards slope through a gate that opened to another field.  Horses usually would gingerly pick their way through on a meandering trail ride.  However, it was not especially wise to slow down too much down the hill while guiding the horses out.  The gate was narrow and a slow horse would be intimidated, bitten, or kicked by a more joyous free horse, as well as slowing the pace would lose any energy of the herd, causing individual horses to splinter off.  Exactly the opposite of what was desired.

I looked down at the gate, my wet slippery hands trying to grasp my smooth leather reins.  Meatball was ready to do his Man From Snowy River impression.  I sat back and let him have his head.  He would keep himself safe and be smooth and true.  

I closed my eyes.

I felt him sit down on his haunches and slide down the muddy hill.  He kept moving quickly and was at ease with himself in his environment. 

And just as soon as we hit the bottom, I opened my eyes.  He has carried me safely and did his job well, for he was one in his environment and I was determined to be one with him on that wet and wild afternoon.

Small Victories

For those that have never had the childhood experience of riding bareback, I am sorry.

I look back at how many wonderful rides I had bareback and the incredible sense of balance I developed.  I also developed some bad habits too, but still, there's something great about that keen sense of knowing where the horse is underneath you while he is galloping in a group or going down the side of a hill or over an obstacle.  

Even better are the memories of trying to get on said horses!

In my experience, there are generally two ways to mount a horse bareback.  One is what I would call swinging up, where you grab some mane in the left hand and swing, using your momentum to get up and onto the horse.  Generally the graceful way in which people get up and it enables you to get on taller horses.

Then there is what I call bellying up.  I don't know what other people call it.

It's like doing a giant pushup on the side of the horse, flopping and pushing yourself up, onto, and over the horse.  Unfortunately, since physical strength is required to push your own mass up onto the horse, it is often delegated to the smaller animals.  In my experience, fatter horses are also harder to get onto using this method.

But once upon a time, I wanted to prove that I could belly up onto an even bigger horse.  This horse was 16.2 1/2 hands. 

The first time, I tried I ran flat into his side. 

The second time that also happened.

Here was the third try.  

 

Not sure why I did that weird dolphin kick.

But here you go.  Blog proof that I have been on a horse before.

And I am also (not so) secretly congratulating myself on figuring how to download old video I had and then make it into that animation.

Small victories, you know.  That's the life of a semi feral rider.  Can't get too tame or overly ambitious.

How about you guys?  Anyone enjoy riding bareback?  How do/did you mount your willing steed?

Memory Monday

It was a warm, sticky day in July.  The air hung heavy with humidity, but not as heavy as my eyelids.  I was in a new relationship and had spent too many hours up talking late into the night and not too many hours sleeping in my sagging summer camp cot.  I was a wrangler, riding hours each day and teaching dozens of children, leading numerous trail rides for campers, outside groups, and girl scouts. 

And this was ride number four of the day.  I looked across the group of horses and selected a small bay mare.  I liked to rotate horses so the favorites weren't used as much and so I settled on Ana.  She didn't have much in the way of redeeming features in my opinion, since she was a bit scrappy and prone to either biting other horses at will or throwing in a small, happy buck.  But she hadn't been ridden that day, so Ana it was.  She, in typical feisty fashion, had gotten into a scrape and had a bite mark in her cinch area, so she couldn't be saddled.

No worries.  I hopped onto her bareback and was ready to head out on the ride.  The group wasn't my favorite, but I wasn't paid to give my opinions, so everyone was safely settled aboard their steed and out we went.  I decided to lead, as I yawned and scratched Ana's neck.  The group was quiet and we set about enjoying the scenery of a green Wisconsin forest.  The horses quickly snatched leaves from the trees as we meandered and ambled. I yawned again and then urged Ana back forward.  She was leading and I would prefer her to keep her mind in the game and not be too enthusiastic about this task.

A moment later I looked up at my surroundings.  We were heading back towards the home trail.  What the??  I thought we had just headed out moments before and then I quickly checked my watch.  No, somehow I had managed to lose a good twenty minutes.  Twenty minutes?  How had I managed to not be aware of the time and trail for twenty minutes? 

I realized that I had managed to fall asleep.  On a horse.  Bareback.  On a horse that occasionally bucked.  How was this even possible?

I still don't know.

But I smile warmly upon that summer day when things were simple, riding was all I needed to do, and in desperate times, a nap could be had on the back of a little bay mare.

Memory Monday: Why Balance Is Importance

Instead of "one time at band camp", it seems to progress to "one time...at summer camp..."

And this Monday, it's no different.  However, this memory was the day I realized that having good balance and a good seat was important.

See, I had subconsciously started to figure this out when I was younger and more stupid and willingly rode horses that needed some fine tuning.  Perhaps fine tuning is attributed too much to me as a riding, since it's implying I had some mad skills.  More like, I was the WD-40 that woke the horses up and asked them to please not try and be idiots on a daily basis.  Just please walk, trot, canter and go the direction you are asked with the proper number of hooves on the ground and in a period of suspension at the correct time.  Nothing more, nothing less.

So back to the story.

It was time to go round up the herd again.  Being horses, they eat a lot and there are lots of fields to send them out to graze upon.  Some are closer, some further.  The one involving the little Arab was a close field.  The one on this particular day: not so much.  It was pretty much the furthest point that one could go. 

However, the horse staff did get a little wiser.  If the fields were close, we would walk out on foot and catch a wiley steed which could be entertaining in forty-plus acres of woods at any point and time.  This location was so far that we had left some horses back in our home corral so we could saddle and ride out in the morning.  Saddles were also a new idea, but not a bad one considering we had chosen some "interesting" horses to leave behind, as it wasn't always fair to use the steady eddies.

I don't remember who I had originally rode out the night before, but it was a pretty reasonable horse.  My friend had chosen and rode out an off the track Thoroughbred.  I love them.  They are pretty cool, but understandably, can occasionally loose their marbles galloping in a large group until pretty well schooled.  This Thoroughbred was in the not-yet-well-schooled category.  Friend had saddled him up and on the way out, realized that this may be a bad idea. 

I try to be a nice person, so I offered to switch.  I reflected about 35 seconds later that may also be a bad idea.  After all, I had already had a major concussion earlier that summer.

Too late for second guessing oneself, right?

The group and I cruised on out to go find the herd of horses.  The saddle on my steed was a little uncomfortable and in typical lazy Semi Feral fashion, I hadn't bothered to adjust the stirrups.  Who the heck needs those.

The herd was eager to come in and pretty quick.  Some days, they move slower than oxen in Texas heat, but not that morning: unfortunately.

Steed and I spent a mile or two galloping mostly at a 45 degree angle to anything we were intending, exerting way too much effort for the task at hand.  I did find myself for once wondering why I didn't have stirrups.  Eh, just an afterthought.

At the end of the ride, I slid off the big gelding and realized something.  Somehow in the chaos of the morning, the cinch hadn't been knotted or done up properly.  I hadn't checked it when I got on because I had assumed original rider had and you know how these things go.  What I found was just a latigo run through a couple of times, giving the semblance of a cinch being on the saddle, but just barely.

It was the equivalent of one of those fancy belts on dresses actually serving a purpose. 

My next thought was how on earth was the saddle still on the horse?  We had galloped up and down a few hills, did a mile or two (or seven as I imagined in my overly active imagination), and not on an easy ride.  Someone else proudly exclaimed that it was the mystical term "Balance".

So, perhaps on that day, I found out why being balanced on a horse is important.  Of course, at that point I wasn't thinking beyond "Cool, I didn't get another concussion."

I also insist on trying to bring my own luck in these situations too. 

One more stepping stone on my path to someday being a good rider.  ;)  

Memory Monday

The Auction Horse

In 2006, I bought my first horse at an auction.  Technically, a friend held up the bidder's card, but I wrote the check, which same friend later reimbursed.  We purchased him to donate to a summer camp at which we were working as they needed a few more solid, dependable horses.

Meet Alex

I am sure I will have many stories about Alex on the blog here over the years, but I suppose I should just tell one for today.  Alex is a purebred Arabian gelding who had been shown in the 4H level and done a bunch of trails.  He's a solid, good natured in a hyper Arab way kind of guy.  And I love him quite a bit.

The summer camp has theme weeks which a special "theme" day once a week.  Western week is when all the crazy men and women who work with the horses get to shine as we introduce the horses all to camp, usually with a storyline of how bandits are in camp and we need to catch them.

Pretty fun game.

Usually.

It takes a special horse to handle the hoopla of three hundred plus children and assorted staff talking, interacting, and being around you at once.  I thought Alex would be up to the job.  Plus, he is a fast fellow and perfect for chasing a bandit or two.

So on cue, we raced onto the "stage" which was a built up wall next to the waterfront.  The bandits had been stealing the flag or something along those lines.  I don't really remember that part.  We did our best chasing impression as the children were herded backwards, flying across the built up "stage".

Visual prop here.  Different year, same stage

Coincidentally, Alex is on the far left again.  He gets drafted a lot for these events.

See how there is a rock wall in front.  Well, I knew that part.  What I forgot is that there is a rock wall for a couple feet on the far edge that curves around.  So imagine taking off at a quick canter and looking down and realizing something.

There is a rock wall.  I panicked.  I had no idea if Alex could jump or not.  I just thought I was going to get shishkabobbed on the western saddle in a dirty stop.

But Alex's version of the event was something more like this.

Well this is interesting.  All these tiny humans looking at me.  Look we get to run.  I love to run.  Look at my tail when I run.  Oh look!  Something to jump.  What is that person looking at up there?  Who cares?  Let's run AND jump.  Hurray!

And that was that.  So, by being unobservant I managed my first cross country jump in a western saddle on an Arab in front of an audience of almost four hundred people.  

Memory Mondays

I always enjoy telling stories, however, I always worry when I begin to forget those memories that were so vivid, so potent, and so incredible.

So I am trying to create "Memory Mondays"where I post a memory.  Fun ones, sad ones, and those that I just like to share.

Hope you enjoy.  Let me know what you think and share some of your own.

(Back story:  I volunteered/worked over the years at a summer camp where horses are run/lead in and out of large grazing pastures in the evening when the work was done)

Running the Herd

I was still young.  I remember being a little apprehensive about running the herd, so this must have been after my first fall.  Not just first fall while galloping a horse bareback in a large thunderous group, but first fall ever.  Don't worry self, there would be more to come. 

I remember sitting and looking across the corral to decide who were were riding.  Some of the other people must have taken pity on me.  I remember the hour was going later and it was getting dark.  While we were checking gates earlier, the sun had begun to set.  I remember sitting atop a horse on a tall hill and looking all around at the world's most beautiful panoramic picture.  Just an incredible sunset full of vivid colors that were just surreal.

I selected my mount.  He was a little Arabian gelding: chestnut with white feet.  Comfortable, small enough for me to get on bare, and very smooth.  An ideal horse to take the herd out in because he was so utterly dependable.  So Louie, it was.

As we opened the gate of the corral, dusk had fallen.  The pasture was close-by that we needed to get to, but still we had to push, or the horses would never leave the home corral.  So off we went.  I was in the middle in a perfect introductory-to-running-in-a-big-herd kind of way.  We galloped smoothly across the home field, up the hill, across the camp road, and up the main path.

I remember it getting dark enough that I could barely see Louie's ears.  I asked him quietly to keep me safe.  He kept on, smoothly and steadily.

As I looked around, grasping to see anything in the darkness, I saw an incredible display.  Sparks flew from where horseshoes hit the gravel on the path.  I could see little glimmers through the darkness lighting a path to our destination.

And then we arrived, safe and sound a few moments later. 

Louie had kept his promise and had given me a short, sweet, yet long lasting ride.  Thank you old man for letting me see that in the darkness, there will be light.