SmartAlex
05-30-2009, 07:56 PM
This morning, about 4:30am, I woke up to the cold thought . I still haven’t really broken in my tall boots. Those things can be painful. I’ve read up on COTH how best to break them in. I have the Vogels Conditioner, and the Ko-Cho-Line. I know all about soaking them in warm water and wearing them until they stretch. When I first put them on in March, after not wearing them for a year and a half, I found I couldn’t even get them all the way up my calves. I had to have my husband extricate me from their vise grip. It took ten minutes for the claustrophobia to subside, and the feeling to return to my toes. I started wrapping my calves in plastic wrap when I went to the gym hoping to sweat off just enough to get those boots up over my breeches. My goal for this spring was to break them in and wear them each time I ride (instead of my beloved and oh so comfy half chaps) so when I make it to the one show a year that I take the time to go to, I won’t feel like I am wearing such a foreign outfit.
That’s the one thing I hate about showing. Whether it’s the saddle suits or the high boots, the habits feel so alien. Another thing that popped into my mind was to clip Grey’s bridle path, since I was thinking about taking a picture of the world framed through Saddlebred ears (a la Jeanie), and, in a moment of higher than average sense of self preservation, that I ought to take my cell phone with me when I ride. I rarely use my cell, although, if I long line when there is no one in the barn, I have often clipped it to my belt just in case. It’s doubtful, in an emergency that I would be able to call for help, but we do what we can.
After breakfast, I started to get ready to head to the barn, and my mind snapped back to my predawn thoughts…wear boots, remember cell phone. I remembered the discomfort and frustration of not being able to get my boots on over the breeches, and I remembered my first ever ride in them when my horse threw in a crow hop, and those slick calves failed to grip sending me bouncing over the cantle, off his rump, and Whomp! Into the sand on my fanny. I’m afraid of the boots! I must conquer my fear and just put them on. No matter how many threads I read, or how many products I buy, the only way to break them in is to put the darn things on and suffer it out. So I did. I was pleasantly surprised when they slid over my breeches and all the way up my calves. Yay SaranWarp! I took my cell phone out, flipped it on, and clipped it to my waistband. Ready to ride! I threw a boot jack and a pair of flip flops in a bag just in case my resolve waivered, and headed to the barn.
Grey was in an unusual mood. Granted I hadn’t actually ridden since last weekend, but he had been turned out and ought to be sane enough. I decided to longe him before riding. I don’t usually, unless he is in such a mood where he is actually blowing and snorting in the cross ties while I’m tacking up. This was one of those days. A quick longe, I made sure the saddle was very tight, and headed out down the road. As I headed up the driveway, I called to Mom “I’m headed straight down Mead Road, and I have my cell in case I have a problem”. Prophetic words to say the least.
We went for a nice ride down the road we took last weekend. Almost a mile from home, I see the neighbor has turned 30 heifers out in the pasture along the road. Grey has never seen a herd of cows before, so I knew there was going to be a problem. I wanted him to go by since living in dairy country, you can’t get far in any direction without encountering cows. I figured he would snort and hunker down and charge past in typical Saddlebred fashion. He danced around for about 5 minutes arguing with me and throwing a bit of a fit, then decided he was going to give it a try. I was settled deep in my saddle, feet firmly in both stirrups, and a handful of mane. I was ready to ride. He hunkered down and started to trot. I looked at the toe marks after, he was really digging in. This startled the cows, who had been watching him with rapt attention.
So, Grey scares the cows, who start to jump and scatter, which, in turn scares Grey. He threw it into high (and I mean HIGH) gear, and flat out bolted. Fastest furlong on record for a Saddlebred. I was ready for something, not necessarily that. He stuck pretty close to the shoulder, but I did hear some scraping of pavement. After about 20 strides of blind runaway, I sat up and said “take it easy you fool, you’ll slip and kill us both.” I have to give him credit, he pulled up on his own. Then he struck a park trot and started flagging his tail and whistling. We went another half mile, and I was starting to worry about getting back past those cows. We got to within about a hundred yards when he started to blow and snort again. I was afraid he was going to pull the same shenanigans, only this time, the cows wouldn’t be up against the corner, they would be free to follow us back down the fence line towards home.
We sat around for about 15 minutes while I weighed my options. The cows were very interested and not going anywhere. Opposite the pasture is an old pasture and a field. I really considered this route, even going so far as to ride into the old pasture and look around. The field is owned by my mother’s cousin, but I didn’t know who owned this pasture. I’m pretty fussy about not riding on land without permission, and I wasn’t sure of the footing, or that the old barbed wire fence had been removed. Scrap Option #1. Option #2: Dismount and attempt to lead him past. My last horse flat out ran me over the first time he saw a cow. I have bad associations with leading horses past cows. I’m staying up here. Scrap Option #2. Grey was still snorting every 2 minutes, and getting himself more worked up. I was getting a little fed up. I told him “You are seriously ruining my day. I have things to do.” My voice of self preservation popped into my head. “What if he bolts again, slips on the road, throws you or falls? How will a trip to the emergency room, or chasing him all over the countryside, and possibly waiting for the vet all afternoon affect your schedule?” Point taken. Time to use a life line and call a friend. This must be why, today of all days I brought my cell with me.
I had a hard time getting signal, but I managed to get my Mom headed my way in the car with a lead rope and a bucket of grain and no idea what we were up against. Good Ole’ Mom. Nearly forty years, and she’s still bailing me out of tight spots. With the bad signal she knew he was balking at something and figured he needed cajoling past some scary object. When she pulled up, Grey had worked his way about 50 feet into the hayfield, and was rooted in place with his head thrown up, snorting. She simply said “I see the problem.” Then asked “How did you get past the first time?” You don’t wanna know! I got off him, and we tried leading him forward, but he was way past simply being nervous about something new, and had figured that bolting saved his hide once before, and now it was an excellent option to consider. Mom would not let me try riding past again, wisely refusing to have her first born atop a panicked horse. Her first born was still not happy about being afoot next to a horse panicked over cows.
After about 5 minutes, Mom declared “we need drugs”. Back she goes in the car. I got back on and rode him away from the cows to get him calmed down again. Mom came back with drugs, a halter, and my step dad. We put his halter on, gave him some drugs. I was thinking it was Banamine, but that’s a pain killer right? So it must have been the Rhompum. We rarely use drugs, and just keep them around for emergencies such as colic or a horse that fights the trailer. This qualified as an emergency. We took off my nearly new, Stubben saddle and put that safely in the trunk. Waited, gave him more drugs. Grey showed little or no sign of relaxing, but he seemed more at ease if only because he was now surrounded by his entire “posse” and knew we would come up with a solution for him.
Step Dad went to see about moving the cows. I wasn’t sure that would work since they were excited and likely to come stampeding back just for fun. We all grew up on farms, and we are well aware of typical cow behavior. It was doubtful these giddy spring heifers were going to cooperate with our agenda. But, as luck would have it, there was a Mallard duck nesting near them, and Richard scared her, and that scared the cows, so they headed for the woods. Mom and I were able to lead Grey, one on each side, past the pasture with him dancing between us like a racehorse on the way to the post. I was still half a mile from home, and by now my ankles were feeling a bit bruised from these darn boots, so I wasn’t in the mood for walking. I would pick today, of all days, to break in the boots.
We got him saddled again and I rode him home. He behaved fine, but was a little jittery in spots. This was one of those situations where I was glad I had time to press Pause, think things through, and come up with a safe way out. The whole thing added an hour to my morning, but at least neither one of us got hurt. Thank Heaven for that little voice of Self Preservation.
That’s the one thing I hate about showing. Whether it’s the saddle suits or the high boots, the habits feel so alien. Another thing that popped into my mind was to clip Grey’s bridle path, since I was thinking about taking a picture of the world framed through Saddlebred ears (a la Jeanie), and, in a moment of higher than average sense of self preservation, that I ought to take my cell phone with me when I ride. I rarely use my cell, although, if I long line when there is no one in the barn, I have often clipped it to my belt just in case. It’s doubtful, in an emergency that I would be able to call for help, but we do what we can.
After breakfast, I started to get ready to head to the barn, and my mind snapped back to my predawn thoughts…wear boots, remember cell phone. I remembered the discomfort and frustration of not being able to get my boots on over the breeches, and I remembered my first ever ride in them when my horse threw in a crow hop, and those slick calves failed to grip sending me bouncing over the cantle, off his rump, and Whomp! Into the sand on my fanny. I’m afraid of the boots! I must conquer my fear and just put them on. No matter how many threads I read, or how many products I buy, the only way to break them in is to put the darn things on and suffer it out. So I did. I was pleasantly surprised when they slid over my breeches and all the way up my calves. Yay SaranWarp! I took my cell phone out, flipped it on, and clipped it to my waistband. Ready to ride! I threw a boot jack and a pair of flip flops in a bag just in case my resolve waivered, and headed to the barn.
Grey was in an unusual mood. Granted I hadn’t actually ridden since last weekend, but he had been turned out and ought to be sane enough. I decided to longe him before riding. I don’t usually, unless he is in such a mood where he is actually blowing and snorting in the cross ties while I’m tacking up. This was one of those days. A quick longe, I made sure the saddle was very tight, and headed out down the road. As I headed up the driveway, I called to Mom “I’m headed straight down Mead Road, and I have my cell in case I have a problem”. Prophetic words to say the least.
We went for a nice ride down the road we took last weekend. Almost a mile from home, I see the neighbor has turned 30 heifers out in the pasture along the road. Grey has never seen a herd of cows before, so I knew there was going to be a problem. I wanted him to go by since living in dairy country, you can’t get far in any direction without encountering cows. I figured he would snort and hunker down and charge past in typical Saddlebred fashion. He danced around for about 5 minutes arguing with me and throwing a bit of a fit, then decided he was going to give it a try. I was settled deep in my saddle, feet firmly in both stirrups, and a handful of mane. I was ready to ride. He hunkered down and started to trot. I looked at the toe marks after, he was really digging in. This startled the cows, who had been watching him with rapt attention.
So, Grey scares the cows, who start to jump and scatter, which, in turn scares Grey. He threw it into high (and I mean HIGH) gear, and flat out bolted. Fastest furlong on record for a Saddlebred. I was ready for something, not necessarily that. He stuck pretty close to the shoulder, but I did hear some scraping of pavement. After about 20 strides of blind runaway, I sat up and said “take it easy you fool, you’ll slip and kill us both.” I have to give him credit, he pulled up on his own. Then he struck a park trot and started flagging his tail and whistling. We went another half mile, and I was starting to worry about getting back past those cows. We got to within about a hundred yards when he started to blow and snort again. I was afraid he was going to pull the same shenanigans, only this time, the cows wouldn’t be up against the corner, they would be free to follow us back down the fence line towards home.
We sat around for about 15 minutes while I weighed my options. The cows were very interested and not going anywhere. Opposite the pasture is an old pasture and a field. I really considered this route, even going so far as to ride into the old pasture and look around. The field is owned by my mother’s cousin, but I didn’t know who owned this pasture. I’m pretty fussy about not riding on land without permission, and I wasn’t sure of the footing, or that the old barbed wire fence had been removed. Scrap Option #1. Option #2: Dismount and attempt to lead him past. My last horse flat out ran me over the first time he saw a cow. I have bad associations with leading horses past cows. I’m staying up here. Scrap Option #2. Grey was still snorting every 2 minutes, and getting himself more worked up. I was getting a little fed up. I told him “You are seriously ruining my day. I have things to do.” My voice of self preservation popped into my head. “What if he bolts again, slips on the road, throws you or falls? How will a trip to the emergency room, or chasing him all over the countryside, and possibly waiting for the vet all afternoon affect your schedule?” Point taken. Time to use a life line and call a friend. This must be why, today of all days I brought my cell with me.
I had a hard time getting signal, but I managed to get my Mom headed my way in the car with a lead rope and a bucket of grain and no idea what we were up against. Good Ole’ Mom. Nearly forty years, and she’s still bailing me out of tight spots. With the bad signal she knew he was balking at something and figured he needed cajoling past some scary object. When she pulled up, Grey had worked his way about 50 feet into the hayfield, and was rooted in place with his head thrown up, snorting. She simply said “I see the problem.” Then asked “How did you get past the first time?” You don’t wanna know! I got off him, and we tried leading him forward, but he was way past simply being nervous about something new, and had figured that bolting saved his hide once before, and now it was an excellent option to consider. Mom would not let me try riding past again, wisely refusing to have her first born atop a panicked horse. Her first born was still not happy about being afoot next to a horse panicked over cows.
After about 5 minutes, Mom declared “we need drugs”. Back she goes in the car. I got back on and rode him away from the cows to get him calmed down again. Mom came back with drugs, a halter, and my step dad. We put his halter on, gave him some drugs. I was thinking it was Banamine, but that’s a pain killer right? So it must have been the Rhompum. We rarely use drugs, and just keep them around for emergencies such as colic or a horse that fights the trailer. This qualified as an emergency. We took off my nearly new, Stubben saddle and put that safely in the trunk. Waited, gave him more drugs. Grey showed little or no sign of relaxing, but he seemed more at ease if only because he was now surrounded by his entire “posse” and knew we would come up with a solution for him.
Step Dad went to see about moving the cows. I wasn’t sure that would work since they were excited and likely to come stampeding back just for fun. We all grew up on farms, and we are well aware of typical cow behavior. It was doubtful these giddy spring heifers were going to cooperate with our agenda. But, as luck would have it, there was a Mallard duck nesting near them, and Richard scared her, and that scared the cows, so they headed for the woods. Mom and I were able to lead Grey, one on each side, past the pasture with him dancing between us like a racehorse on the way to the post. I was still half a mile from home, and by now my ankles were feeling a bit bruised from these darn boots, so I wasn’t in the mood for walking. I would pick today, of all days, to break in the boots.
We got him saddled again and I rode him home. He behaved fine, but was a little jittery in spots. This was one of those situations where I was glad I had time to press Pause, think things through, and come up with a safe way out. The whole thing added an hour to my morning, but at least neither one of us got hurt. Thank Heaven for that little voice of Self Preservation.