trailriding last Thursday

My friend and I went out riding on Thursday afternoon--she on her Paso Fino mare, and I on my arabian/tarpan gelding.  It's early autumn in Georgia-the hunters aren't out yet-at least the gun hunters aren't, and the woods are just starting to hint at color. It's been dry-we're in an extreme drought--so things are very brittle.  Her dogs escaped confinement--much to her disgust--and I was able to use my whip to encourage them to stay out from in front of the horses' feet--where, for some doggie reasoning, they insisted on walking.  A few yips of protest later--dogs sniffing the weeds happily elsewhere close by--we proceeded on our way.

One of the hunter-jumper barns in the area has an owner who is apparently buying up a great deal of land around his facility.  We haven't heard what his plans are, but we're enjoying the fact that he's using a mower to clear space for horses to come through on some very lovely property--and doesn't mind if the neighbors use it as well.  Only requirements he has is--don't dump trash, don't ride if they are having a "hunt day", and don't mess up their constructed jumps.  Not a problem with us.  We prowl and keep a lookout for strangers and violators. It's a workable arrangement for everyone--at least so far.

The one thing that needs to be done is to more or less map and name some of the trails out there so riders could be found in an emergency.  It is gorgeous out there.  The land has not been used in some years--I saw some old stone walls that looked to be Civil War age.   Creek beds are dried up right now, but normally there's good water in there.  Trees are fairly old in places.  May find an old homestead.

It's nice to be back riding on a schedule again.  The horses are enjoying it, too.  Settling into that good covering walk--ears up, head level, looking around with a great deal of interest.  Now to see if I can get my friend interested in going for longer and longer distances........!  There's motive behind this madness!

Mine! No, mine! No, MINE!

Most people have argued with a two or three year old. "MINE!" is a recurring phrase that they learn early and, boy, do they learn THAT concept well and thoroughly! We adults sometimes wish that other concepts took hold as well, but it is probably just as well that they don't--with any luck, it would be the incorrect ones and then we'd have problems. After all, supposedly we have been taught better and we don't do so well sometimes. I think it's mostly laziness that makes us wish this--so we wouldn't have to work so hard at training them. But then we wouldn't spend the time with them and isn't that sort of the point in the first place?

I digress--the "mine" that I refer to is Nikolai's hind feet. Apparently, somebody was remiss in telling the young boy that his hinds WERE to be picked up, handled, and so forth.  He's not ugly about it--just rather emphatic that those are his and not any business of mine. We have a difference of opinion. What His Tarpaness has yet to Grok on is that my opinion trumps his. His toes need a trim and will be.  

So--while I waited for the water tank to fill, I played Friendly Game with him and blew his mind by playing with his tail (very tense).  Flexed it vertebra by vertebra, circled in both directions, pulled it, and just played.  His ears were all over the place.  Didn't have the first clue what to do about all this crazy stuff. Then scratched all over but especially around the ears--apparently going to be a favorite. This guy's a thinker--but he has some extrovert in him, too.  Definitely LB--no question.  Just take my time and let him figure things out.

By the time the water tank was full, I had both hinds up and quietly over my leg (not at the same time, of course!).  We'd had to have some discussions which mostly consisted of the fact that I would-if necessary-beat him-which he seemed to take into consideration. The farrier comes in a few days.  We'll see if it comes to that.

In the meantime, I need to convince Nikolai that his hinds really are mine because he is mine now.  You have to put it into a partnership context for them--Tarpans do not believe in ownership of horses--people, yes.  Nikolai hasn't decided about ownership of me yet--and may not.  They choose their own.  Humans have to live with it.  I know--it's weird. But I've done this before--so take my word for it.

One of Life's Ironies Bit me in the Ass--Again!

Every since my Tarpan stallion died, I've been mourning the loss of my tarpans......just didn't seem right not having one out in the pasture. Dad's been gone since January, 2006--he had lost interest in fussing with the geldings, chasing his "wimmen", and even eating was getting difficult for him. (I'd had the dentist do what he could for the old man, but poor care in his youth and the loss of a couple of molars due to some kicks had made his mouth a nightmare.) Dad and I were soulmates, too--so losing him was really painful.

Then yesterday, I was getting out of the shower when the phone rang--and a man wanted to "give" me a horse--not just any horse--a TARPAN! I need another horse like I need another leg, but, hell, yes, I went and picked up that beast-and beast he is. He is young and feisty--maybe 7-8 years old, gelded, but I suspect a cryptorchid, and no apparent training--his manners are atrocious. What mystifies me is that this man had purchased him as a mount for his little girl. This boy had been terrorizing the other geldings in the pasture for some time--not exactly what a child's mount should be doing. Quiet and gentle--not hardly.

But I'm delighted--I love assholes. Nikolai and I are going to be great friends. Oh, and yesterday was my birthday!

The best gift of all.........

First let me back up. I worked for awhile in a vet's laboratory, performing some lab work and calling in results to various other vet clinics around the metro area. Thought I was pretty hot stuff at the time about horses--thought I knew pretty much everything. Knew how to train, how to ride, just about all the breeds.....now I know how much I didn't know--and how much of an ass I was. But I guess we all go through that.

Anyway, one of the reports that I had to call on was on an Equine, breed-Tarpan. Never heard of it. So I asked the person on the other end of the line about it-and she turned out to be the owner. One thing led to another and I had an invitation to her home to see these horses. Ellen Thrall turned out to be a 5 foot 3 prematurely grey dynamo of energy who had worked in the zoo with them. When the zoo had closed the exhibit down, she'd asked for them and gotten the small herd. At the time, they were considered wild and untrainable. You'd have to know Ellen--she was, of course, riding the stallion and breeding the mares.

I had a horse of my own--but Ellen and I talked at length about the future of this recreated breed of prehistoric horses. I didn't want something that small--they're only 13-3 hands at the largest, although they can carry a large adult all day without difficulty. Also, I wanted more "fire" and these horses tend to be somewhat "cold-blooded". She'd been trying a few crosses with other breeds-and I suggested the arab cross.

About two years later, my phone rang. Ellen's voice was on the other end: Your colt is here. What colt? I didn't say I wanted a colt! But I went to see the baby anyway. Turned out there had been another-a filly--and Ellen had tried again. This one was "my colt". And he had been born to a mare that had been living wild and he had not been handled from birth either--so he was as wild as any creature on earth. She had managed to separate him from his dam because she was skinny from trying to feed him on poor pasture, and had gotten him into a trailer and brought him home with her. He was NOT amused--to say the least.

But he was gorgeous. That very angry, very fuzzy, three month old baby grew up into a wonderful partner for me. He's still around at 21 years now and still going strong. He became the intelligent, talented extension of myself that I needed. Ellen eventually gave me his sire who also gave me HIS heart as only a Tarpan can. I can say with all honesty that I have ridden like the centaurs of Greek mythology on three horses and these are two of them.

Ellen Thrall gave me the best gift because she recognized in me the Equus spirit. Her stallion was her bequest to me--she died not long after. I treasure her memory as I treasure the horses. Thank you, Ellen. In all humility--thank you.

Lame Horse AGAIN

Zhak is lame AGAIN. I guess since we've had the drought, then TS Fay brought rain and the grass starting growing again, he has laminitis again. I've checked him out--no heat, minor pulse in the foot, no obvious bruising, a very minor amount of white line separation-which he had before, and his toes are needing rasping again. Certainly not enough to make him standing lame. But there he is. Well, at least it is one foot and not two-which it has been in the past--and he is walking on it-some-after I booted it.

I had such hopes for the little guy--I was going to train him for CTR and harness. But my work and my mom's illness got in the way and now here he is 12 years old and pretty darn near useless. I'm miserable about it. I feel like I should be shot for allowing this to happen. Here's a cute little horse with tons of potential that has gone to pot because I allowed it to happen.

Well, self-flagellation aside--I can't do much with him while he's lame except work on his insistence that something is determined to EAT HIM. The world is full of monsters to Zhak--to hear him tell it anyway. He's reactive-gets it from his dam, an arab who thoroughly believes in saber-toothed butterflies. So, I will start atonement for my sins of the past.

Saber-toothed butterflies--BEWARE!!

International headaches

I volunteer and consult with an international medical group. Recently, we've had a couple of teenagers here for surgeries--both facial. One from Columbia--she was severely burned in a house fire at about a year old and is now 16. Our government gave us heck on getting her here-she has relatives here, she knows how to speak English, she LIKES it here, and we have ENOUGH Columbians here, thank you very much. What they don't realize is, she has a boyfriend there that she adores, family that she's close to, and a life that she doesn't want to leave. Visiting here is great, but she's not interested in a full-time residency.

The other kid is a totally different story--she's from Ghana. Daddy is a pentecostal minister, mom is a full-time mom, she's the only natural child, but they've taken in 4 others--which happens a lot in Africa these days. Total family support is about $150/month. Comparatively, they're middle-class. Then about age 6, she develops a mass above her right eye. Slowly it grows and pushes that eye out and down as it destroys the bone beneath and behind it. But she retains some of the eyesight.

An eye doctor gets behind the case and starts pushing her church officials to find help at an international level. That's where we got involved. The surgery has been done--the tumor is gone. She can still see. They had to fabricate a new piece of skull for that part of her face. We're still working on the plastic surgery part. She'll never look quite right--but she looks far better than she did, and, hey, that stinking tumor would have killed her in not too much more time. We feel blessed now. It took 22 hours of surgery to get it out.

So what's the headaches? I'm herding cats. The eye doctor from Ghana is coming into Atlanta and he wants to meet the surgical team--who has two separate offices which aren't anywhere NEAR the airport or each other, the mother and daughter are dying to see him, AND the eye doctor wants to talk to me about the organization coming to Ghana to work. All in 6 hours. In Atlanta's notorious downtown traffic. This is going to be a riot. I'm not sure they make enough ibuprofen.

The good things? I get to meet all kinds of really neat, interesting people who are having an impact on world health--and who aren't just sitting on their asses bitching and moaning. It's exciting. I have the opportunity to learn about other cultures and see other places in the world that other people haven't even thought about--much less wanted to go see. I participate in making the lives of these kids really demonstrably BETTER so they can live healthier lives. I cooperatively work with some of the very best in healthcare in this country who do this because of their love of humanity and faith in their Maker is like mine. Nobody works for money--we do it for the joy. It's the biggest rush there is.

The photograph

For any who might be interested--yes, that is one of my horses, and yes, I took the photo. It happens to be my half-tarpan, half-arab stallion, WP Asher aka "Buddy" and the camera was a digital. Buddy was just in the yard on a picket line grazing that day and I decided that he needed his picture taken. (We're still working out the details of who is in charge when I'm astride--it's okay that I'm up there--he just doesn't see the point in my having anything to do with decision-making--especially if the girls come to watch! He's not ugly about it-just doesn't see the point.)

And, yes, we'll entertain thoughts of his being a dad--if the right mare comes along. So far, none has although he swears she has--several times. He wishes his mom wasn't so darn picky.

Bucked off

Thursday of last week, my gelding-whom I raised since he was 4 months old, fulfilled what must have been a lifelong ambition--he tossed my butt. Not that I particularly blame him--I was attempting to mount bareback and