Hi Folks! Thanks for stopping by!
I want to apologize for letting so much time go by between blog posts, and I'd like to say it's because I've spent the time between the last blog and now enjoying married life and settling into domestic bliss. I'd like to say that, but it's not entirely true! Mostly, I've been waiting for a topic to present itself, and yesterday, one finally did.
If you've read the previous post, then you'll know that lease horse Bit and I spent considerable time in training for my wedding day. We had a set routine, and Bit learned it very quickly. He then spent a lot of time putzing around instead of working because he thought he had already mastered the routine. As I had to keep telling him, "You know how to do it, but you don't know how to do it well!" Fortunately, he performed so well on the Big Day that I bought him a 1st Place blue ribbon that hangs on his stall door even now. We're both very proud of it!
When the Big Day was over, though, I had trouble coming up with interesting things for Bit and I to do. The wedding was the climax of all our hard work, and I was left to wonder, afterward, "now what?" I spent a month or so taking it easy with him, leading him on walks around the track outside the pasture fence, and working on walking up the driveway toward the front barn and past his comfort zone, and rewarding his bravery with a juicy red apple. But after a while, that got boring, too.
Lacking any other ideas, I finally decided to put him to the test and try riding him around the track that parallels the pasture fence. This was no small consideration, given that during our walks across the back of the property, he frequently smelled what I believe is coyote urine, a thing that frightened him every single time. And when Bit's scared, Bit prances. Given his druthers, he'd most surely take off running and not look back, but I cling pretty tightly to my end of the lead rope, so all he can really do is prance in circles around me while I stand there reassuring him that all is well.
In any case, the day finally came where I felt brave enough to try riding the track. This was a big deal for me because I'd spent the last year watching Bit prance a lot of circles around me. He spooked at everything! I worried about what would happen to me when he spooked with me on his back: would he take off running and leave me behind like you see in cartoons? Would he rear up and dump me out of the saddle? I've yet to take an unscheduled dismount off a horse, and I was not keen to start now! Only time would answer my questions, though, so I put on a brave face as I tacked him up and led him outside.
Riding instructor Connie had shown me how to teach Bit to use a mounting block, so I lugged the heavy plastic steps from the arena to the front of the building and got Bit positioned correctly. After a couple of false starts in which he walked circles around the block instead of standing still like he's supposed to, I was finally able to climb onto his back and settle in. I said a quick prayer to the Gods to please keep me in that saddle, and off we went.
I learned very quickly that for Bit, there was an invisible line about two thirds of the way up the track, and he was not inclined to cross it. When he reached it, he turned around and started heading back the way he'd come. This was not good! Bit needs to turn when I say turn, not when he does! So I turned him back around and he walked a few steps, and then resolutely refuse to go any farther. I didn't push it. The day would come when we would walk more of the track, but it wouldn't be happening during our first attempt. So I directed Bit to walk around other, more familiar, areas of the property before calling it a day. Our first ride outside the fence had gone pretty darned well considering what a big fraidy horse he is! Indeed, Bit is such a fearful animal that barn owner Wendy put him on an herbal supplement.
When I told Wendy how Bit spooked at his own shadow, she decided it might be worthwhile to use one of the supplements they sell at the barn. I didn't put much stock in the idea (even though I take a vitamin supplement every day!), so I wasn't paying attention to whether it worked or not until the day came months later that he began to spook more than usual. I noticed it several times, when I took him out for walks around the property. After a year's-worth of improvement in his demeanor, it was almost like starting over from scratch. In desperation, I put a note on the dry-erase board in the barn, asking, "Did you decrease Bit's SuperHorse supplement? He's very jumpy these days." The next morning, scrawled in Wendy's hand underneath my own writing, was this: yes. sorry! back on it! So the herbal supplement had been working! Patiently, I waited for it to build up in his system again before attempting another ride around the track.
I ended up taking a week off from seeing Bit, while I waited for his supplement to kick in. The weather didn't cooperate on some days, and on others, my schedule didn't either. When I finally got back out to the barn, I had to really push myself to tack him up for a ride. Depression is like that: even when it's an activity that you love, sometimes, getting yourself motivated takes more energy than you actually have. And so it was this past week, when I dragged myself out to the barn on a wonderfully sunny fall day and groomed my pal til his coat gleamed. Sighing heavily, I brought out the tack and slowly but surely put it on him. Then out we went to the mounting block.
When we reached Bit's invisible line again, he turned himself around just like the first time. I couldn't allow that - someone has to be in charge, and it needs to be me! So I pulled on the right rein, turned him back the way we had been going, and much to my surprise, he paused briefly, seeming to make up his mind about something, then plunged on ahead toward the back of the property. He kept walking....around the corner as I held my breath, across the back while my eyebrows arched in complete astonishment, past the giant poop pile, around the other corner as I heaped praise on him, and then down the track toward the barn. Holy cow! He was doing great! My Big Brave Bit had just done his first lap! And then the ducks scared him!
There's a small pond on the north side of the property. It never occurred to me that passing mallards might stop there, but indeed they had, and when they heard us coming, they flapped noisily to life and lifted off the pond. I heard Bit let out a small shriek - finally, that horse-eating monster he'd always feared was coming to get him! - and I quickly reined him in before he could take off running. Pulling on the right rein to turn his head in the direction of the ducks, I said hastily, "It's just ducks, Bubby! You're o.k.!" Thankfully, he saw them for himself and realized that they were not horse-eating monsters, though he did do a bit of prancing as we walked away.
I chewed on the incident as we continued on toward the barn. Damn! That one small thing pretty much ruined an otherwise perfect ride. Mind you, I didn't think the ride was ruined, it was what Bit thought that concerned me. I decided not to leave things the way they were, with a scary incident at the forefront of his fraidy-horse brain. So I rode him around other, less scary areas of the property and then ended the ride on a good note, with a nice crunchy apple.
The next day, I intentionally directed him to walk the track in the opposite direction from the day before. I figured I'd trick him by going that way so he wouldn't spook in the same place as the previous ride. As we approached it, though, Bit knew exactly where that pond was and what had happened the day before, and he balked, stopping in his tracks and refusing to go forward. I gently urged him forward, and, seeing no way out of it, he finally walked on - on his own terms: veering off the track entirely, he made his way over to the field next to the track, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the horse-eating pond. After an interval of perhaps a few yards, he steered himself back onto the track without any urging from me, and continued on the rest of the ride without further incident.
Bit's creative problem-solving had impressed me, but more than that, it moved me. As we walked two more near-perfect laps around the track, the realization came to me that Bit was trying to please me, trying to find a way to be brave in the face of certain imminent disaster. In short, he was trying, period. Instead of merely tolerating the human on his back, we had, apparently, built enough of a relationship during the past year to make Bit feel invested in what we were doing. I knew full well that Bit would never attempt a walk around the track on his own; it was much too far outside his comfort zone. But he did it because I asked him to, and he tried to do it well in spite of his fear. How could I not be moved by that?!
Fall in NW Ohio is a great time to do a little horseback riding, and I'm thrilled that Bit and I have come along far enough that 1) he feels brave enough to walk the track, and 2) I feel brave enough to ride him on the track. Many times, I've lost sight of the fact that riding is a team effort. My recent experiences with Bit serve to remind me that we're in this adventure together, and that I need to put as much faith in him as he puts in me. That's a valuable lesson that all of us can learn from, and one I'll be putting to good use just as soon as the rain stops and I can get back out to the barn!
Before I close, I'd like to say that this entry is not intended to plug any particular horse supplement, but I must say, I'm now convinced of the efficacy of the one Bit's on, Confidence Plus by Hilton Herbs. If you'd like to try it (or any of the other Hilton Herb supplements) on your horse, check out www.thehealingbarn.com. They'll be glad to answer any questions you have.
That's all for now, folks. Until next time, please be kind to all the critters! And before you leave the page, please leave a comment below so I know you were here!
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
The Big Day!
Hi Folks!
Thanks for stopping by! I have a new post for you that will explain why I haven't written in a while, and that will bring you up to date on what's been happening here at Critter Central. So settle in and away we go!
You may recall that I spent the winter trying to teach Bit the horse some ground manners. This consisted mainly of teaching him about the mounting block and how it works. And although I spent at least a couple of days every week working on that, I met with very limited success. No matter what I tried, Bit didn't seem to learn much, or grasp what he was meant to do. Finally, in desperation, I scheduled a lesson with Connie, my riding instructor. In less that five minutes, she figured out what I needed to do in order to get Bit to do what he needed to do. Things suddenly became so clear that I kicked myself inwardly and asked the unanswerable question, why don't I think of these things first and save myself the agony?
Once I started doing things the way Connie taught me, it was time to move on to the next step. Step Two involved teaching Bit the routine we were to perform at my and Duddy's wedding. Initially, I hadn't planned on including a horse in the ceremony, but when barn-owner Wendy and I first discussed having the wedding in her barn, she asked whether I'd be riding Bit. Naturally, once she put the idea in my head, I ran with it and decided that it might be really cool to make Bit part of the ceremony. Given that Duddy would be doing what he does best - playing guitar - it made sense to incorporate one of my favorite things, too.
Having Bit participate in the wedding presented a few challenges. First, how would he behave with fifty people sitting on a set of rental bleachers in his usually-empty arena? How would he react to two guys playing guitar? What if he didn't do what I asked of him at the crucial moment? Wendy and Connie both thought things would go well, but I personally am a worrier: if I can't control the outcome, I get a little nervous!
So we practiced. And practiced. We practiced while Duddy stood in the arena playing guitar. We practiced using the mounting block in the aisle - a thing that normally isn't done for safety reasons. We practiced so much that Bit began to anticipate my commands, forcing me to get creative during training sessions: I frequently changed things up by altering the direction we walked in, or walking past our cue instead of trotting, to throw him off a little. The point was to familiarize him with the routine without allowing him to take over. It must be said, though, that ours wasn't a big routine, or particularly taxing; it was simply that Bit had never been tasked with performing at a wedding before.
On the Big Day, we tried to work out any final kinks that Bit might have. Connie suggested that I lunge Bit in order to get some of the piss and vinegar out of him, which Mandy, my favorite nemesis and Maid of Honor, did for me. When she finished lunging him, she tacked him up so that I wouldn't get my wedding clothes dirty doing it myself. Once he was saddled, I took him out into the arena. We poked our heads out one of the big doors and had a look around, then I walked him over to the chairs where Dud and Chris would sit. I rapped the metal chair with my knuckles so that Bit could get a sense of it, and then I strummed the guitar that was propped against it. I let Bit see the people filling the stands, as well. We stood for a a couple of minutes taking it all in: I didn't want there to be any surprises for Bit because, as you regular readers already know, he's a big fraidy horse who startles at everything. I only hoped he wouldn't startle that day!
In the minutes before our routine, Bit got fussy. I had planned for this by asking barn co-owner Ron to help me in the aisle. Connie volunteered her services, too, so that I had two horse experts - one of whom was the recognized head of the herd - available to help allay any jitters Bit may have had. I didn't count on Bit getting agitated, though; I had assumed that Ron's presence would take care of that. I was wrong. In my first moments in the saddle, Bit pulled loose from Ron's grip and tried to walk a nervous circle in the narrow aisle. As I pulled on his reins, Connie reminded me to project calm so that Bit would feel calm. I did my best. And then it was time to go.
I gave Bit a tiny squeeze with my legs - it doesn't take much to get him moving - and we were off. We walked the length of the aisle, and then the few steps into the arena, and then we came abreast of the first big door. That big door was our cue, so I gave Bit another barely-perceptible squeeze. He was meant to break into a trot, then: the routine involved trotting halfway around the arena, then walking the rest of the way before coming to a halt near Duddy. It still would've looked o.k. to the assembled crowd if we had simply walked the whole way around, but Bit trotting would've been much cooler! I was prepared for the routine to go either way, but I held out hope as I gave him that second squeeze, and what do you know - after hesitating for the briefest of moments, Bit broke into a trot!
He continued trotting at a stately pace until we reached the big door on the other side of the arena. At that point, I gave a small tug on the reins and he slowed to a walk. We walked a few steps, turned inward toward the wedding party, and then came to a stop. It was as we were walking those last few steps that I got an unexpected flash of insight from Bit: suddenly, he understood what the training had been about; everything crystallized in his mind with the realization that it had all been for this. As we came to a halt, he he bobbed his head once, as if to acknowledge the pivotal role he had played, and played so well. I patted him fondly on the neck, told him what a good boy he was, and dismounted.
In ordinary circumstances, that would be the end of Bit's part in the wedding. Indeed, as Ron led him out of the arena, I imagine that everyone thought that that was the last they'd be seeing of him. So it came as a considerable surprise to me when, a few minutes after he disappeared - and after the ceremony had begun - Bit decided to rejoin the party! I'm not entirely clear on how he managed to break free of Ron's grasp, but at some point while Ron was leading him to a stall, Bit took off at a trot and made his way back into the arena, coming to a stop next to the minister as though he wanted to make sure she was doing her job correctly. It was Wendy who came out and led him away again, and Wendy who remarked later that Bit clearly didn't want to be left out of the proceedings! After seeing the video of it, I'm inclined to agree.
Now that our wedding training has finished - and after seeing how well Bit performed under pressure - I've asked Wendy whether she might consider having another Fun Day for the boarders and volunteers. They held one a couple of years ago, in which there was food, and competitions, and prizes, and it was terrific fun. Everyone showed up, and even a couple of old boarder horses who've been retired for years were dressed up with ribbons in their manes and given a chance to compete! We all had a great time, from the little kids who competed for the best-groomed horse, to us adults who did a trail competition using a routine that Connie devised for us. It's just the sort of thing I think Bit would excel at and, given that we're unlikely to ever actually compete as a team, it would be our only opportunity to show off what we're capable of.
As I took Bit for a walk today, I told him (yet again) what a good boy he was, and how perfectly he performed on our "special day." I also told him that he'd won a blue ribbon for his effort, which cheered him considerably.
A blue ribbon? Really?
Yep! Because you did so well!
A ribbon for me?
I'm gonna hang it on your stall door, Bubby!
!!!
I'm ever so proud of you, Bubby!
That's all for now, folks! I hope you and your animal friends are keeping cool in this extended heat wave! Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
Thanks for stopping by! I have a new post for you that will explain why I haven't written in a while, and that will bring you up to date on what's been happening here at Critter Central. So settle in and away we go!
You may recall that I spent the winter trying to teach Bit the horse some ground manners. This consisted mainly of teaching him about the mounting block and how it works. And although I spent at least a couple of days every week working on that, I met with very limited success. No matter what I tried, Bit didn't seem to learn much, or grasp what he was meant to do. Finally, in desperation, I scheduled a lesson with Connie, my riding instructor. In less that five minutes, she figured out what I needed to do in order to get Bit to do what he needed to do. Things suddenly became so clear that I kicked myself inwardly and asked the unanswerable question, why don't I think of these things first and save myself the agony?
Once I started doing things the way Connie taught me, it was time to move on to the next step. Step Two involved teaching Bit the routine we were to perform at my and Duddy's wedding. Initially, I hadn't planned on including a horse in the ceremony, but when barn-owner Wendy and I first discussed having the wedding in her barn, she asked whether I'd be riding Bit. Naturally, once she put the idea in my head, I ran with it and decided that it might be really cool to make Bit part of the ceremony. Given that Duddy would be doing what he does best - playing guitar - it made sense to incorporate one of my favorite things, too.
Having Bit participate in the wedding presented a few challenges. First, how would he behave with fifty people sitting on a set of rental bleachers in his usually-empty arena? How would he react to two guys playing guitar? What if he didn't do what I asked of him at the crucial moment? Wendy and Connie both thought things would go well, but I personally am a worrier: if I can't control the outcome, I get a little nervous!
So we practiced. And practiced. We practiced while Duddy stood in the arena playing guitar. We practiced using the mounting block in the aisle - a thing that normally isn't done for safety reasons. We practiced so much that Bit began to anticipate my commands, forcing me to get creative during training sessions: I frequently changed things up by altering the direction we walked in, or walking past our cue instead of trotting, to throw him off a little. The point was to familiarize him with the routine without allowing him to take over. It must be said, though, that ours wasn't a big routine, or particularly taxing; it was simply that Bit had never been tasked with performing at a wedding before.
On the Big Day, we tried to work out any final kinks that Bit might have. Connie suggested that I lunge Bit in order to get some of the piss and vinegar out of him, which Mandy, my favorite nemesis and Maid of Honor, did for me. When she finished lunging him, she tacked him up so that I wouldn't get my wedding clothes dirty doing it myself. Once he was saddled, I took him out into the arena. We poked our heads out one of the big doors and had a look around, then I walked him over to the chairs where Dud and Chris would sit. I rapped the metal chair with my knuckles so that Bit could get a sense of it, and then I strummed the guitar that was propped against it. I let Bit see the people filling the stands, as well. We stood for a a couple of minutes taking it all in: I didn't want there to be any surprises for Bit because, as you regular readers already know, he's a big fraidy horse who startles at everything. I only hoped he wouldn't startle that day!
In the minutes before our routine, Bit got fussy. I had planned for this by asking barn co-owner Ron to help me in the aisle. Connie volunteered her services, too, so that I had two horse experts - one of whom was the recognized head of the herd - available to help allay any jitters Bit may have had. I didn't count on Bit getting agitated, though; I had assumed that Ron's presence would take care of that. I was wrong. In my first moments in the saddle, Bit pulled loose from Ron's grip and tried to walk a nervous circle in the narrow aisle. As I pulled on his reins, Connie reminded me to project calm so that Bit would feel calm. I did my best. And then it was time to go.
I gave Bit a tiny squeeze with my legs - it doesn't take much to get him moving - and we were off. We walked the length of the aisle, and then the few steps into the arena, and then we came abreast of the first big door. That big door was our cue, so I gave Bit another barely-perceptible squeeze. He was meant to break into a trot, then: the routine involved trotting halfway around the arena, then walking the rest of the way before coming to a halt near Duddy. It still would've looked o.k. to the assembled crowd if we had simply walked the whole way around, but Bit trotting would've been much cooler! I was prepared for the routine to go either way, but I held out hope as I gave him that second squeeze, and what do you know - after hesitating for the briefest of moments, Bit broke into a trot!
He continued trotting at a stately pace until we reached the big door on the other side of the arena. At that point, I gave a small tug on the reins and he slowed to a walk. We walked a few steps, turned inward toward the wedding party, and then came to a stop. It was as we were walking those last few steps that I got an unexpected flash of insight from Bit: suddenly, he understood what the training had been about; everything crystallized in his mind with the realization that it had all been for this. As we came to a halt, he he bobbed his head once, as if to acknowledge the pivotal role he had played, and played so well. I patted him fondly on the neck, told him what a good boy he was, and dismounted.
In ordinary circumstances, that would be the end of Bit's part in the wedding. Indeed, as Ron led him out of the arena, I imagine that everyone thought that that was the last they'd be seeing of him. So it came as a considerable surprise to me when, a few minutes after he disappeared - and after the ceremony had begun - Bit decided to rejoin the party! I'm not entirely clear on how he managed to break free of Ron's grasp, but at some point while Ron was leading him to a stall, Bit took off at a trot and made his way back into the arena, coming to a stop next to the minister as though he wanted to make sure she was doing her job correctly. It was Wendy who came out and led him away again, and Wendy who remarked later that Bit clearly didn't want to be left out of the proceedings! After seeing the video of it, I'm inclined to agree.
Now that our wedding training has finished - and after seeing how well Bit performed under pressure - I've asked Wendy whether she might consider having another Fun Day for the boarders and volunteers. They held one a couple of years ago, in which there was food, and competitions, and prizes, and it was terrific fun. Everyone showed up, and even a couple of old boarder horses who've been retired for years were dressed up with ribbons in their manes and given a chance to compete! We all had a great time, from the little kids who competed for the best-groomed horse, to us adults who did a trail competition using a routine that Connie devised for us. It's just the sort of thing I think Bit would excel at and, given that we're unlikely to ever actually compete as a team, it would be our only opportunity to show off what we're capable of.
As I took Bit for a walk today, I told him (yet again) what a good boy he was, and how perfectly he performed on our "special day." I also told him that he'd won a blue ribbon for his effort, which cheered him considerably.
A blue ribbon? Really?
Yep! Because you did so well!
A ribbon for me?
I'm gonna hang it on your stall door, Bubby!
!!!
I'm ever so proud of you, Bubby!
That's all for now, folks! I hope you and your animal friends are keeping cool in this extended heat wave! Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
Friday, April 19, 2013
A Terrible Tragedy
Hi Folks. Thanks for stopping by.
I'm going to skip my usual preamble and jump right into the thing I want to write about.
It's with a very heavy heart that I must report the following: for reasons known only to themselves, a group of teenage boys vandalized a school bus and school windows in Charlotte, N.C. and while they were at it, they took two-by-fours and bricks and beat several Canada geese who were nesting on school property. From what I gleaned from news reports, a pair of geese defended their nest literally to death, with the gander dying from his injuries on site and his mate suffering extensive injuries as she tried to save the eggs. Local wildlife rescue agency Carolina Waterfowl Rescue was called in.
According to the Waterfowl Rescue's Facebook page, the goose was badly injured. She had a ruptured air sac, head trauma, and a large hematoma on her head. She also had several leg fractures and a crushed food. Her toes were dislocated. The Rescue took possession of the injured goose and arranged for surgery on her leg. While the surgery itself went well, the goose - now named "Wilma" - did not wake up from the anesthesia. Two boys have been charged with cruelty to animals.
Normally, I avoid animal cruelty stories like the plague. They're too horrific, impossible to make sense of, and I hate the feeling of helplessness that engulfs me when I hear the details. It's simply too much for my overloaded emotional circuits to deal with. This time, however, as I was perusing my facebook home page, I accidentally read more of the story than I ordinarily would have. Once I knew a few bits and pieces, I took the plunge and checked out Carolina Waterfowl's facebook page to read the whole story, and now you know what I know.
The point of this blog entry isn't to ruin your day with an awful story of animal cruelty, though. The point of this entry is the answerless questions that keep running through my mind:
Why on earth would anyone think beating an animal to death is fun?
What kind of parents would raise a child that behaves with such a complete lack of decency or compassion?
I believe the second question is the most vexing, and here's why: are there any parents out there who are actually willing to look at their child's behavior objectively and conclude that something is, in fact, wrong with their offspring? Did Charles Manson's parents ever once stop to think that it was their fault that their son turned out to be a mass-murdering sociopath? Did you know that a good many serial killers started off torturing animals as teenagers? The FBI has recognized this connection since the 1970s, when its analysis of the lives of serial killers suggested that most had killed or tortured animals as children.*
In my experiences taking care of the abandoned flightless ducks at Whoville's city pond - who are at the mercy of cruel children themselves - I've come to the conclusion that a good many parents school their kids in the importance of being kind and gentle with the family kitty or puppy. But it's clear that the education stops there and falls far short of the larger issue: kindness and gentleness toward all species.
If I had any answers that would end the scourge of animal cruelty, I would certainly share them with the world. The fact is, I lie awake most nights praying to whoever is up there to please help humans be nicer to the animals around them. For the most part, it doesn't seem as if the Gods are listening. I also pray for the souls of those poor creatures, though I've thus far had no evidence to prove that my prayers are working. It would seem that a more practical solution is needed, and in that regard, the solution is obvious: parents.
While I've frequently heard parents get prickly when others want to lay blame for children's behavior at their feet, in the case of the goose attack, the kids involved were juveniles who still live at home. That, in my mind, means that the parents involved were failing miserably in their duty as educators and must be held accountable. Children learn such cruelty somewhere, and it certainly isn't learned at church! Or school.
I realize that there are no simple answers at hand. Children do, indeed, learn cruelty at home - generally at the hands of abusive parents. And while, having been abused myself, I have enormous compassion for children who are abused, it does not give them free reign to take it out on anyone - or anything - else. We as a society must make that clear.
The sickening attack on the Charlotte geese could well be a talking point for any teacher who thinks animal cruelty is a relevant topic for class discussion. I invite all teachers reading this to consider having that very discussion with your class. As Mahatma Gandhi said, "The greatness of a nation, and its moral progress, can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
Today, tomorrow, next week....let's all do something, however small, to try to eradicate animal cruelty. There's simply no room for it in a compassionate society.
*SPCALA website
I'm going to skip my usual preamble and jump right into the thing I want to write about.
It's with a very heavy heart that I must report the following: for reasons known only to themselves, a group of teenage boys vandalized a school bus and school windows in Charlotte, N.C. and while they were at it, they took two-by-fours and bricks and beat several Canada geese who were nesting on school property. From what I gleaned from news reports, a pair of geese defended their nest literally to death, with the gander dying from his injuries on site and his mate suffering extensive injuries as she tried to save the eggs. Local wildlife rescue agency Carolina Waterfowl Rescue was called in.
According to the Waterfowl Rescue's Facebook page, the goose was badly injured. She had a ruptured air sac, head trauma, and a large hematoma on her head. She also had several leg fractures and a crushed food. Her toes were dislocated. The Rescue took possession of the injured goose and arranged for surgery on her leg. While the surgery itself went well, the goose - now named "Wilma" - did not wake up from the anesthesia. Two boys have been charged with cruelty to animals.
Normally, I avoid animal cruelty stories like the plague. They're too horrific, impossible to make sense of, and I hate the feeling of helplessness that engulfs me when I hear the details. It's simply too much for my overloaded emotional circuits to deal with. This time, however, as I was perusing my facebook home page, I accidentally read more of the story than I ordinarily would have. Once I knew a few bits and pieces, I took the plunge and checked out Carolina Waterfowl's facebook page to read the whole story, and now you know what I know.
The point of this blog entry isn't to ruin your day with an awful story of animal cruelty, though. The point of this entry is the answerless questions that keep running through my mind:
Why on earth would anyone think beating an animal to death is fun?
What kind of parents would raise a child that behaves with such a complete lack of decency or compassion?
I believe the second question is the most vexing, and here's why: are there any parents out there who are actually willing to look at their child's behavior objectively and conclude that something is, in fact, wrong with their offspring? Did Charles Manson's parents ever once stop to think that it was their fault that their son turned out to be a mass-murdering sociopath? Did you know that a good many serial killers started off torturing animals as teenagers? The FBI has recognized this connection since the 1970s, when its analysis of the lives of serial killers suggested that most had killed or tortured animals as children.*
In my experiences taking care of the abandoned flightless ducks at Whoville's city pond - who are at the mercy of cruel children themselves - I've come to the conclusion that a good many parents school their kids in the importance of being kind and gentle with the family kitty or puppy. But it's clear that the education stops there and falls far short of the larger issue: kindness and gentleness toward all species.
If I had any answers that would end the scourge of animal cruelty, I would certainly share them with the world. The fact is, I lie awake most nights praying to whoever is up there to please help humans be nicer to the animals around them. For the most part, it doesn't seem as if the Gods are listening. I also pray for the souls of those poor creatures, though I've thus far had no evidence to prove that my prayers are working. It would seem that a more practical solution is needed, and in that regard, the solution is obvious: parents.
While I've frequently heard parents get prickly when others want to lay blame for children's behavior at their feet, in the case of the goose attack, the kids involved were juveniles who still live at home. That, in my mind, means that the parents involved were failing miserably in their duty as educators and must be held accountable. Children learn such cruelty somewhere, and it certainly isn't learned at church! Or school.
I realize that there are no simple answers at hand. Children do, indeed, learn cruelty at home - generally at the hands of abusive parents. And while, having been abused myself, I have enormous compassion for children who are abused, it does not give them free reign to take it out on anyone - or anything - else. We as a society must make that clear.
The sickening attack on the Charlotte geese could well be a talking point for any teacher who thinks animal cruelty is a relevant topic for class discussion. I invite all teachers reading this to consider having that very discussion with your class. As Mahatma Gandhi said, "The greatness of a nation, and its moral progress, can be judged by the way its animals are treated."
Today, tomorrow, next week....let's all do something, however small, to try to eradicate animal cruelty. There's simply no room for it in a compassionate society.
*SPCALA website
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Life Lessons Courtesy of Bit the Horse
Hi Folks! Thanks for stopping by!
Those of you who follow my blog will know that I decided to spend the winter teaching lease horse Bit some ground manners. This was because when someone tries to climb into the saddle, Bit foils them by refusing to stand still. He'll walk this way and that, forward and back, in his attempts to keep you from getting on his back. This is not only annoying, but it's dangerous, too, and while I've never actually taught a horse anything before, I figured ground manners were worth a shot.
I wish I could say that I've been 100% successful with this endeavor, but Bit has a strong personality, so we tend to butt heads. Any number of times, during our training sessions, he's turned his head toward me, taken the loose end of the lead rope in his mouth, and repeatedly flailed his head about. It's his way of saying, "Enough already! I know how to do this!" To which I always reply, "You might know how to do it, but you don't know how to do it well!" Clearly, Bit and I disagree on how much more training he needs to have!
I tried working with Bit on a regular basis, but sometimes, the winter weather was just too much for my delicate constitution. Even inside the arena, the penetrating cold would numb my fingers to the point where I couldn't properly fasten the tack. So there were times when we went a number of days between teaching sessions, and Bit always liked to pretend that he'd forgotten what I taught him.
Repeatedly, I'd walk him up to the mounting block, bring him to a halt, and try to climb onto the saddle - only to watch him back away at the last moment. Around in a circle we'd walk, and I'd line him up with the mounting block again - and again - each time attempting a safe mount, and each time, watching him back away from the block. Ugh! Fortunately, toward the end of our sessions, he'd do things correctly a couple of times and I'd reward him with an apple slice. Suffice to say the learning has been slow-going.
It didn't help that ground work was all we could do. If it wasn't too cold to attempt a walk outside, then the ground was too muddy to walk in, all of which confounded my efforts to work with him outside the fence. As you may recall, I've also been trying to make Bit into a trail-riding horse. We spent a lot of quality time together last fall walking the track outside the pasture fence. Bit was - and still is - a huge fraidy cat about anything unfamiliar, so our walks consisted mainly of Bit eating grass, Bit startling at something imaginary, Bit prancing around in nervous circles, and me standing calmly by, reassuring him in a soothing tone of voice that all was well. By the time winter hit and we had to stop walking outside, Bit had calmed down considerably, and I had begun to feel somewhat optimistic about using him as a trail horse. I should have known that my optimism was misplaced!
When the first hint of spring weather arrived recently, and the muddy track had finally dried up, I decided to break up the monotony and take Bit out for a walk around the track. Unfortunately, he startled at so many things - real or imagined, that it was like taking him out for the first time all over again. Even so, he did pretty good for a fraidy cat, and we managed to make it all the way to the back end of the property. I made sure to let him stop and graze on what little grass there was at every opportunity because grazing always seems to calm him down. It was while he grazed that I decided to walk him a little farther than usual.
The trail-riding track runs along the back edge of several properties. On one side is a long row of evergreen shrubs that border the properties, and on the other side are large tracts of farm fields. The trail runs between all this, and Bit did very well walking the length of it. After giving him a chance to look and see and smell, I turned and headed back toward the barn. It was as we rounded the back corner of barn-owner Wendy's property that the thing I always feared finally happened: Bit spooked and shot off at a gallop.
All the previous times that Bit had startled at something, he never ran any farther than the lead rope would stretch. But this time was different, and in the split second after he took off, several thoughts crossed my mind in quick succession:
"If I don't let go of the lead rope, I could lose some fingers!"
"I'll never be able to catch him!"
"He's not going to come if I call!"
"God, I hope he doesn't run out into the road!"
"Call Ron!"
I let go of the lead rope almost immediately. If I'd hung onto it, it could have tightened around my hand and literally ripped my fingers off. Helplessly, I watched Bit tear across the field, drawing a momentary blank as to what to do next. Then it occurred to me: call Ron.
The only reason I had my phone with me was because Wendy had suggested it when I started leasing Bit. The idea made sense: co-owner Ron was almost always somewhere on the property, and he was universally recognized as the alpha horse. Unfortunately, my phone decided not to cooperate when I tried dialing Ron's number. I paused in despair, wondering what the hell to do now, and thinking about how, if something bad happened to Bit, it would be all my fault. In the midst of all that thought, I almost didn't notice that Bit had changed his trajectory and was now running directly toward the mud lot where his herd was. When he reached the mud lot fence, he stopped running. That was unexpected!
Fortunately for all concerned, I had the presence of mind to remember the advice I'd gotten from both Wendy and her daughter Connie - that in order to teach Bit to be calm, I must exude calm. Fighting my desire to run up the track to retrieve Bit, I walked instead. While every inch of my being wanted to race to where he was so that I could regain control, I knew that doing so would only confirm to him that there was, indeed, something to be afraid of, and that he would probably take off running again.
So I strolled at our usual walking pace, forcing myself to remain cool and collected. And, because prey animals have very good hearing, I began to talk to him, too, giving my usual running commentary about what a nice day it was to be a horse, and what a big, goofy meatball he was. To my everlasting surprise, it worked! When I was half-way up the track, Bit turned his head, saw me coming, and trotted a few paces in my direction. Then he stopped and stood stock still, facing me and waiting for me to come and get him. It was clear in that moment that he was thinking, "Everything's o.k. now! Kelly's here!"
It was one of those incredible moments that I don't get to see very often, the kind of moment in which Bit shows me that we have, indeed, been building a relationship, and that I've earned his trust. In all those teaching sessions where he'd get impatient and grab the lead rope, it sure didn't seem as though we were accomplishing much. And yet there he was, trotting eagerly toward me and then stopping to wait for me to catch up. Once I did, I took possession of the lead rope, gave him a couple of snacks, and heaped praise on him for being such a smart boy. Then, because I wanted things to end on a normal note, rather than a panicked one, I let him graze a little, and then took him in the barn and groomed him.
In my experiences with Bit, whether we're working on a new skill, or just hanging out, I'm learning that John Lennon's words - life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans - are true. While I'm focused on the tasks at hand, and assuming that Bit is, too, something intangible is happening: we're getting to know each other in subtle ways, ways that apparently reassure him that I'm safe, and that I'll keep him safe. That I'm reliable and that he can rely on me. Such important things, and such a shame that we never notice them unless we're tasked with a situation that brings them to the fore. I suspect that the same is true of human relationships, too.
So while the thing I feared most did indeed happen, I've come away from it feeling very reassured about my knowledge as a horsewoman (disaster did not befall us after all) and about my relationship with Bit (who, contrary to his usual behavior, has actually learned a few things). There's nothing better than realizing that you know a little more than you thought you did!
That's all for now, folks. Thanks again for stopping by! May you all have small moments of big revelations with your favorite animals! Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
P.S. The thing that sent Bit galloping through the field? A white plastic grocery bag wafting on the breeze. Who knew something so inconsequential could be so terrifying?!
Those of you who follow my blog will know that I decided to spend the winter teaching lease horse Bit some ground manners. This was because when someone tries to climb into the saddle, Bit foils them by refusing to stand still. He'll walk this way and that, forward and back, in his attempts to keep you from getting on his back. This is not only annoying, but it's dangerous, too, and while I've never actually taught a horse anything before, I figured ground manners were worth a shot.
I wish I could say that I've been 100% successful with this endeavor, but Bit has a strong personality, so we tend to butt heads. Any number of times, during our training sessions, he's turned his head toward me, taken the loose end of the lead rope in his mouth, and repeatedly flailed his head about. It's his way of saying, "Enough already! I know how to do this!" To which I always reply, "You might know how to do it, but you don't know how to do it well!" Clearly, Bit and I disagree on how much more training he needs to have!
I tried working with Bit on a regular basis, but sometimes, the winter weather was just too much for my delicate constitution. Even inside the arena, the penetrating cold would numb my fingers to the point where I couldn't properly fasten the tack. So there were times when we went a number of days between teaching sessions, and Bit always liked to pretend that he'd forgotten what I taught him.
Repeatedly, I'd walk him up to the mounting block, bring him to a halt, and try to climb onto the saddle - only to watch him back away at the last moment. Around in a circle we'd walk, and I'd line him up with the mounting block again - and again - each time attempting a safe mount, and each time, watching him back away from the block. Ugh! Fortunately, toward the end of our sessions, he'd do things correctly a couple of times and I'd reward him with an apple slice. Suffice to say the learning has been slow-going.
It didn't help that ground work was all we could do. If it wasn't too cold to attempt a walk outside, then the ground was too muddy to walk in, all of which confounded my efforts to work with him outside the fence. As you may recall, I've also been trying to make Bit into a trail-riding horse. We spent a lot of quality time together last fall walking the track outside the pasture fence. Bit was - and still is - a huge fraidy cat about anything unfamiliar, so our walks consisted mainly of Bit eating grass, Bit startling at something imaginary, Bit prancing around in nervous circles, and me standing calmly by, reassuring him in a soothing tone of voice that all was well. By the time winter hit and we had to stop walking outside, Bit had calmed down considerably, and I had begun to feel somewhat optimistic about using him as a trail horse. I should have known that my optimism was misplaced!
When the first hint of spring weather arrived recently, and the muddy track had finally dried up, I decided to break up the monotony and take Bit out for a walk around the track. Unfortunately, he startled at so many things - real or imagined, that it was like taking him out for the first time all over again. Even so, he did pretty good for a fraidy cat, and we managed to make it all the way to the back end of the property. I made sure to let him stop and graze on what little grass there was at every opportunity because grazing always seems to calm him down. It was while he grazed that I decided to walk him a little farther than usual.
The trail-riding track runs along the back edge of several properties. On one side is a long row of evergreen shrubs that border the properties, and on the other side are large tracts of farm fields. The trail runs between all this, and Bit did very well walking the length of it. After giving him a chance to look and see and smell, I turned and headed back toward the barn. It was as we rounded the back corner of barn-owner Wendy's property that the thing I always feared finally happened: Bit spooked and shot off at a gallop.
All the previous times that Bit had startled at something, he never ran any farther than the lead rope would stretch. But this time was different, and in the split second after he took off, several thoughts crossed my mind in quick succession:
"If I don't let go of the lead rope, I could lose some fingers!"
"I'll never be able to catch him!"
"He's not going to come if I call!"
"God, I hope he doesn't run out into the road!"
"Call Ron!"
I let go of the lead rope almost immediately. If I'd hung onto it, it could have tightened around my hand and literally ripped my fingers off. Helplessly, I watched Bit tear across the field, drawing a momentary blank as to what to do next. Then it occurred to me: call Ron.
The only reason I had my phone with me was because Wendy had suggested it when I started leasing Bit. The idea made sense: co-owner Ron was almost always somewhere on the property, and he was universally recognized as the alpha horse. Unfortunately, my phone decided not to cooperate when I tried dialing Ron's number. I paused in despair, wondering what the hell to do now, and thinking about how, if something bad happened to Bit, it would be all my fault. In the midst of all that thought, I almost didn't notice that Bit had changed his trajectory and was now running directly toward the mud lot where his herd was. When he reached the mud lot fence, he stopped running. That was unexpected!
Fortunately for all concerned, I had the presence of mind to remember the advice I'd gotten from both Wendy and her daughter Connie - that in order to teach Bit to be calm, I must exude calm. Fighting my desire to run up the track to retrieve Bit, I walked instead. While every inch of my being wanted to race to where he was so that I could regain control, I knew that doing so would only confirm to him that there was, indeed, something to be afraid of, and that he would probably take off running again.
So I strolled at our usual walking pace, forcing myself to remain cool and collected. And, because prey animals have very good hearing, I began to talk to him, too, giving my usual running commentary about what a nice day it was to be a horse, and what a big, goofy meatball he was. To my everlasting surprise, it worked! When I was half-way up the track, Bit turned his head, saw me coming, and trotted a few paces in my direction. Then he stopped and stood stock still, facing me and waiting for me to come and get him. It was clear in that moment that he was thinking, "Everything's o.k. now! Kelly's here!"
It was one of those incredible moments that I don't get to see very often, the kind of moment in which Bit shows me that we have, indeed, been building a relationship, and that I've earned his trust. In all those teaching sessions where he'd get impatient and grab the lead rope, it sure didn't seem as though we were accomplishing much. And yet there he was, trotting eagerly toward me and then stopping to wait for me to catch up. Once I did, I took possession of the lead rope, gave him a couple of snacks, and heaped praise on him for being such a smart boy. Then, because I wanted things to end on a normal note, rather than a panicked one, I let him graze a little, and then took him in the barn and groomed him.
In my experiences with Bit, whether we're working on a new skill, or just hanging out, I'm learning that John Lennon's words - life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans - are true. While I'm focused on the tasks at hand, and assuming that Bit is, too, something intangible is happening: we're getting to know each other in subtle ways, ways that apparently reassure him that I'm safe, and that I'll keep him safe. That I'm reliable and that he can rely on me. Such important things, and such a shame that we never notice them unless we're tasked with a situation that brings them to the fore. I suspect that the same is true of human relationships, too.
So while the thing I feared most did indeed happen, I've come away from it feeling very reassured about my knowledge as a horsewoman (disaster did not befall us after all) and about my relationship with Bit (who, contrary to his usual behavior, has actually learned a few things). There's nothing better than realizing that you know a little more than you thought you did!
That's all for now, folks. Thanks again for stopping by! May you all have small moments of big revelations with your favorite animals! Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
P.S. The thing that sent Bit galloping through the field? A white plastic grocery bag wafting on the breeze. Who knew something so inconsequential could be so terrifying?!
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Teaching An Old Horse New Tricks!
Hi Folks!
Thanks for stopping by! I hope you're all keeping warm and cozy during these cold winter months!
When I left off in my last blog entry, I was planning to teach my new pal Bit some ground manners. The main reason for this was because of Bit's constant refusal to stand still whenever I tried to get on him. I'm not talking about once in a while, when he was feeling ornery, but rather, all the time! The minute I'd try to get a foot in the stirrup, he'd start walking around. Forward, sideways - any way that was away from me!
It wasn't just me, either; I witnessed the same problem whenever another volunteer tried to mount him. And apart from being a very annoying habit, it was also very dangerous: I'd have to seize the opportunity the minute he slowed down, jam my foot into the stirrup and heave myself (I'm 50 years old, remember; not terribly young or springy anymore!) into the saddle - all while Bit continued to walk around. Clearly, he needed to acquire some manners!
I had no idea how to proceed. I've never had any training on how to teach a horse, and I've taken very few lessons on Bit. All I knew going in was that during the winter, it would be too cold to ride, and too icy to risk walking him outside where he could slip and break a bone. I could spend as much time as I wanted working with him in the arena, but on what exactly? As it turned out, the things I needed to teach Bit came to me after the fact. In other words, while I was thinking about doing one thing, it would suddenly become clear that I needed to back up a step and do something else first.
The first issue I decided to address was the fact that Bit always guards his belly. He becomes very agitated when I brush him, and gets even more so when I try to tighten the girth on the saddle. Clearly, someone treated him very roughly indeed before he came to The Harmony Barn. Every time I put him in the cross ties, he would dance around, stepping back and as far away from me as the ropes would allow. At some point, I concluded that it might be a good idea to spend extra time grooming him. While I was doing that, it occurred to me to devolve a little and not use a brush at all, that maybe I should just run my hands gently over his belly.
I was as careful in this endeavor as I could possibly be, but it became obvious that it would take some time - and a lot more gentle rubbing - for Bit to realize that I wasn't going to hurt him like those folks in the past did. Indeed, any number of times, as I stood rubbing as quietly and gently as possible, Bit would turn his head my way and try to nip me. I discouraged this with a careful elbow and a sharp word: the idea was to reprimand, not to hurt.
This past weekend, while Bit was out in the mud lot, I took advantage of the fact that he was engrossed in a flake of hay and repeated the exercise. For over ten minutes, I simply stood beside him and ran my hands across his belly. For a time, he seemed to forget what I was doing, and then he would lift his head and turn it toward me. But he wasn't trying to nip, now, he was just looking to see what I was doing. Apparently satisfied that all was well, he'd turn his head back to his hay and continue eating. It sure seemed like progress to me!
Later the same day, I attempted some ground work in the arena. It occurred to me that if I wanted to be able to mount him safely, I was going to have to get him used to the mounting block. The mounting block would serve two purposes: it would make getting on his back much easier, and I wouldn't have to jam my foot into the stirrup - and bang his belly with my boot in the process. In the past, during lessons, Connie and I tried using the mounting block but it was a dismal failure: Bit would simply walk away from it. Given that he weighs at least a thousand pounds, there was little Connie could do to keep him in check. So my next task was to try to get him used to the mounting block.
Initially, I thought I would put a saddle on him and somehow try to get him to stand still at the block, but when I turned the matter over in my head, I decided to back away from that idea somewhat. Instead, I set the block out, and placed two orange traffic cones a few feet away. The idea was to form a small corridor that Bit would stand in. What I hoped was that the presence of the cones would discourage him from walking sideways away from the mounting block.
The exercise itself went like this: with Bit attached to a lead rope and walking beside me, we would make our way around the arena - first walking one way, and then another, always mixing things up to keep Bit from getting bored. At some point, we would walk up to the mounting block. I would climb up onto the middle step (there were three) and come to a stop while asking Bit to halt. We would then stand in position for a few seconds before starting off again.
When we had repeated this exercise a few times, I noticed that every time Bit halted, it was about a foot and a half short of lining up with the mounting block. So I started saying, "Step up, Bit!" while tugging just a little on the lead rope. Bit learned very quickly to take a couple of steps forward and stop. I was cheered by his intelligence in picking this up so fast, and heaped loads of praise on him. At the end, I made sure we finished on a good note, then gave him a big juicy apple to chew on as a reward for a job well done.
Eventually, I'll step things up with Bit: I'll put a saddle on him and repeat the exercise without actually getting on him. After doing that enough times, I'll put a saddle on him and do nothing more than lie across it while making him stand still. Once we've gotten that down pat and he's learned to stand still, then I'll try climbing on his back. But we've got a ways to go yet first, and that's o.k.: I'm willing to be as patient as it takes to teach Bit this important lesson.
I'd like to point out that none of this time spent with Bit would be possible without the generosity of my wonderful fiance Duddy, who leases Bit for me, and who, incidentally, proposed to me at The Harmony Barn! What started as a birthday gift has turned into a love affair between myself and Bit! Indeed, when Duddy and I started making wedding plans, my first thought was to have the ceremony at the barn! And my second thought was to ride Bit around the arena and up to Duddy's side! It seems a fitting way to begin married life: with the two men I love most in the world!
That's all for now, folks! I'll keep you posted as things with Bit progress. In the meantime, keep warm, and please be kind to all the critters!
Thanks for stopping by! I hope you're all keeping warm and cozy during these cold winter months!
When I left off in my last blog entry, I was planning to teach my new pal Bit some ground manners. The main reason for this was because of Bit's constant refusal to stand still whenever I tried to get on him. I'm not talking about once in a while, when he was feeling ornery, but rather, all the time! The minute I'd try to get a foot in the stirrup, he'd start walking around. Forward, sideways - any way that was away from me!
It wasn't just me, either; I witnessed the same problem whenever another volunteer tried to mount him. And apart from being a very annoying habit, it was also very dangerous: I'd have to seize the opportunity the minute he slowed down, jam my foot into the stirrup and heave myself (I'm 50 years old, remember; not terribly young or springy anymore!) into the saddle - all while Bit continued to walk around. Clearly, he needed to acquire some manners!
I had no idea how to proceed. I've never had any training on how to teach a horse, and I've taken very few lessons on Bit. All I knew going in was that during the winter, it would be too cold to ride, and too icy to risk walking him outside where he could slip and break a bone. I could spend as much time as I wanted working with him in the arena, but on what exactly? As it turned out, the things I needed to teach Bit came to me after the fact. In other words, while I was thinking about doing one thing, it would suddenly become clear that I needed to back up a step and do something else first.
The first issue I decided to address was the fact that Bit always guards his belly. He becomes very agitated when I brush him, and gets even more so when I try to tighten the girth on the saddle. Clearly, someone treated him very roughly indeed before he came to The Harmony Barn. Every time I put him in the cross ties, he would dance around, stepping back and as far away from me as the ropes would allow. At some point, I concluded that it might be a good idea to spend extra time grooming him. While I was doing that, it occurred to me to devolve a little and not use a brush at all, that maybe I should just run my hands gently over his belly.
I was as careful in this endeavor as I could possibly be, but it became obvious that it would take some time - and a lot more gentle rubbing - for Bit to realize that I wasn't going to hurt him like those folks in the past did. Indeed, any number of times, as I stood rubbing as quietly and gently as possible, Bit would turn his head my way and try to nip me. I discouraged this with a careful elbow and a sharp word: the idea was to reprimand, not to hurt.
This past weekend, while Bit was out in the mud lot, I took advantage of the fact that he was engrossed in a flake of hay and repeated the exercise. For over ten minutes, I simply stood beside him and ran my hands across his belly. For a time, he seemed to forget what I was doing, and then he would lift his head and turn it toward me. But he wasn't trying to nip, now, he was just looking to see what I was doing. Apparently satisfied that all was well, he'd turn his head back to his hay and continue eating. It sure seemed like progress to me!
Later the same day, I attempted some ground work in the arena. It occurred to me that if I wanted to be able to mount him safely, I was going to have to get him used to the mounting block. The mounting block would serve two purposes: it would make getting on his back much easier, and I wouldn't have to jam my foot into the stirrup - and bang his belly with my boot in the process. In the past, during lessons, Connie and I tried using the mounting block but it was a dismal failure: Bit would simply walk away from it. Given that he weighs at least a thousand pounds, there was little Connie could do to keep him in check. So my next task was to try to get him used to the mounting block.
Initially, I thought I would put a saddle on him and somehow try to get him to stand still at the block, but when I turned the matter over in my head, I decided to back away from that idea somewhat. Instead, I set the block out, and placed two orange traffic cones a few feet away. The idea was to form a small corridor that Bit would stand in. What I hoped was that the presence of the cones would discourage him from walking sideways away from the mounting block.
The exercise itself went like this: with Bit attached to a lead rope and walking beside me, we would make our way around the arena - first walking one way, and then another, always mixing things up to keep Bit from getting bored. At some point, we would walk up to the mounting block. I would climb up onto the middle step (there were three) and come to a stop while asking Bit to halt. We would then stand in position for a few seconds before starting off again.
When we had repeated this exercise a few times, I noticed that every time Bit halted, it was about a foot and a half short of lining up with the mounting block. So I started saying, "Step up, Bit!" while tugging just a little on the lead rope. Bit learned very quickly to take a couple of steps forward and stop. I was cheered by his intelligence in picking this up so fast, and heaped loads of praise on him. At the end, I made sure we finished on a good note, then gave him a big juicy apple to chew on as a reward for a job well done.
Eventually, I'll step things up with Bit: I'll put a saddle on him and repeat the exercise without actually getting on him. After doing that enough times, I'll put a saddle on him and do nothing more than lie across it while making him stand still. Once we've gotten that down pat and he's learned to stand still, then I'll try climbing on his back. But we've got a ways to go yet first, and that's o.k.: I'm willing to be as patient as it takes to teach Bit this important lesson.
I'd like to point out that none of this time spent with Bit would be possible without the generosity of my wonderful fiance Duddy, who leases Bit for me, and who, incidentally, proposed to me at The Harmony Barn! What started as a birthday gift has turned into a love affair between myself and Bit! Indeed, when Duddy and I started making wedding plans, my first thought was to have the ceremony at the barn! And my second thought was to ride Bit around the arena and up to Duddy's side! It seems a fitting way to begin married life: with the two men I love most in the world!
That's all for now, folks! I'll keep you posted as things with Bit progress. In the meantime, keep warm, and please be kind to all the critters!
Saturday, November 24, 2012
What Money Buys
Hi Folks!
Wow, have I been gone awhile, or what?! My regular readers will know that I was rather busy, this past summer, falling in love with the most wonderful guy in the world! For those who haven't yet read my blog, things will make a lot more sense if you first scroll down and read the entry titled "Do Overs Part 2." For those of you who already read that entry, I'm pleased to report (major spoiler alert for new readers, here!) that Duddy and I are now engaged to be married and couldn't be happier about it!
While Duddy has had plenty of pets of his own, through the years, getting to know - and learning to live with - a Critter Lady has been quite an eye-opening experience for him. He's not accustomed to someone putting the needs of the animals first, for instance, and being shooed out of his own kitchen so that the cats can eat in peace really doesn't sit well with him. The duck who spent several days living in our bathroom gave him pause for thought as well: the smell of duck poop alone was enough to make him wonder about that whole happily-ever-after thing. At some point, he began to question where, exactly, he fell on the totem pole, and found it understandably galling when he realized that he wasn't necessarily at the top! What can I say - sick critters take precedence over healthy humans!
To give credit where credit is due, though, I'll say this: Duddy has been a surprisingly good sport about most of my critter peculiarities. At one point, he actually managed to get antibiotic pills down the throat of the aforementioned duck, which impressed the hell out of me. And, he's even made friends with formerly-feral Buddy the cat - a cat who sees little need for relationships of any kind. I have to figure, if Buddy likes him, Duddy must be doing something right!
Duddy also seems to have embraced volunteering with me at The Harmony Barn. While he's not a big fan of poop scooping, he attends to water bucket cleaning briskly and efficiently. After the buckets are all cleaned and refilled, he makes the rounds and visits with the critters he likes most. At the top of the list is Handsome Harry, the resident donkey. As he's done with every other volunteer, Harry has charmed Duddy by resting his huge head on Dud's shoulder. And while Duddy appears to dismiss my belief that if you talk to animals, they will talk back, I'm fairly certain that he and Harry have had some meaningful conversations when I wasn't around to overhear!
While Duddy knew little about horses before hooking up with me, he was intrigued about the concept of leasing a horse, once he learned that such a thing was possible. For those of you who don't know, horses are very expensive animals to own. In the first place, there's the monthly cost of boarding, which, in this area, runs about $350. I could buy a heck of a nice car for that price! In addition to boarding costs, there's the fee for the farrier to come trim the hooves every six weeks. Then there's worming, and dental care, and the price just goes through the roof. For folks who can't afford all that, leasing can be an option.
Leasing is basically renting a horse. You pay a monthly fee, and you get to ride as often as you wish without all the extra expenses like those I mentioned above. I'd never leased a horse before because I couldn't afford it, and I certainly never felt qualified enough: while there's an instructor present during lessons, you ride the leased horse on your own time, when there's generally no one around. It never occurred to me that I might know enough to be able to ride all on my own - didn't occur, that is, until I mentioned it to Duddy. He'd been casting about for a suitable gift for my birthday when the subject came up. Knowing how much I loved the Harmony Barn and its horses, he decided that my gift would be his leasing Bit for me. Wow!
Now, you regular readers know that I took a few lessons on Bit, and that we were slowly forging a relationship together. But leasing him, and figuring out how to fill my time with him, was another matter entirely. You might think that I would just go out to the barn, saddle him up, and hop on every time, but that was never the case. I suppose I could've done that, but I wanted more than to just ride around in circles in the arena; that can get boring pretty quickly!
So I set myself the task of trying to make him a trail rider. Since Ruckus died, we'd lost the one bomb-proof horse that could manage a trail ride calmly and smoothly. I knew that Wendy wasn't going to go out and find another trail horse - her mission is rescuing abused horses, and the space available at the barn for that is limited. The obvious solution seemed to be to teach a horse who was already in residence. Since no one had any objection to my idea, I took lead rope in hand and set about showing Bit what the world looked like on the other side of the fence.
There's a u-shaped track that parallels the pasture fence. Ron and Wendy use it to drive the poop-filled tractor out to the back of the property. Bit and I would walk that u-shaped track, stopping often so he could snack on the grass which grows in abundance out there. I made sure, in spite of the numerous times he startled at something, that every excursion ended positively, with lots of snacks, and lots of praise.
Day after day, week after week, we walked that track. When he startled at the corn stalks rustling in the wind on the neighboring property, I pulled a few ears and let him eat them. When he nervously eyed the old wooden wagon filled with junk and sitting forgotten next to the track, I walked him up to it, rapped my knuckles on it, and encouraged him to sniff out its harmlessness. Every scary issue was addressed quickly and confidently to ensure that he didn't harbor any lingering fear of it. And while it sounds like I knew exactly what I was doing in all this, I can assure you that I did not. I made it all up as I went along.
It was precisely because I had no idea what I was doing that I began to wonder whether I was actually making any progress. Perhaps the lack of any specific goals kept me from seeing the small changes as they occurred, but occur they did, and as we repeated this adventure time after time, I began to pick up on them. The most noteworthy change was that Bit startled less often. All those times I had calmly assured him that everything was o.k. were finally paying off. While that was encouraging, I still wasn't sure whether we were making real, lasting, progress until the day I walked out into the mud lot to collect him for yet another walk around the track.
To avoid predictability, I tried to mix up our routine. Some days, I would put a saddle on him before we took our walk so that he would get used to wearing a saddle outside the fence. Other days, I brought Duddy along on our walks so Bit would get used to the presence of distractions. We would walk in different directions on different days, and never stopped to graze in the same place twice. The whole point was to get him accustomed to the idea that strange new things weren't going to harm him and could, in fact, be rather pleasant. It actually became a non-routine routine!
Before our walks, I always groomed Bit and picked his hooves because I saw those things as part of my relationship-building efforts. Due to his EPM balance issues, picking his back hooves could be a real challenge. Indeed, during our lessons, I would have Connie stand in front of Bit to help maintain his focus while I tried to keep from getting kicked. Bit wasn't actually trying to kick me, he was flailing his back leg because he felt off-balance. Because I would be picking his hooves alone when I leased him, Connie insisted that I learn how to do it all by myself before leasing began. This I ultimately did, and being able to hang on to that flying leg seemed to reassure Bit that I could be counted on to handle whatever needed handling. Indeed, I seem to have succeeded in reassuring Bit, as I learned that day I walked out to the mud lot to collect him for yet another walk.
It was my habit to walk out into the mud lot and call out, "Where's Big Boy Bit?" I had begun to notice that he would drop what he was doing, when he heard my voice, and walk over to me from wherever he was. This particular day, though, he was clearly feeling downright enthusiastic because, much to my everlasting surprise, he came trotting around the corner of the barn! In my time on earth, I've had dogs run to greet me, the ducks at the pond run to greet me, and even the occasional cat, but never a horse! I was floored! In my search for an indication that my efforts with him were working, Bit's trotting across the mud lot to me was the proof I needed. We were, indeed, developing a relationship, and Bit's enthusiasm cheered me no end.
I made a point, then, of telling Duddy what a great gift his leasing of Bit was for me. While I certainly enjoyed riding Bit on those occasions when I did, the experience was about so much more than that: my confidence in myself and my horse knowledge was growing by leaps and bounds. In addition, the quiet time spent with Bit did wonders to calm the ever-present chaos in my head - the result of having been molested as a child. Those chaos-free hours have been better medicine than anything the pharmaceutical companies could dream up, and I've relished the time that I've been able to spend alone, quietly, with my best pal, Bit.
I've received some wonderful gifts in my life, but the gift of time with Bit has been by far the greatest. We've all heard it said that money can't buy happiness. While I have some sneaking suspicions about that - those rich people sure seem happy, don't they?! - it's been my experience that money buys opportunities, and it is those opportunities that can bring you happiness. Such has been the case with Duddy's generous gift. At the time, I had no idea that leasing Bit would be so fulfilling on so many levels, and I marvel, now, at how a modest sum of money brought so much peace and joy to my life. If any of you ever get a chance to lease a horse, I urge you to grab that opportunity and run with it!
With winter weather now nipping at my heels, here in Northwest Ohio, it will be too cold outside to continue our walks. So I've set myself a new task - improving Bit's ground manners. I have no idea how to go about that or whether I'll succeed, but I know it will involve a large measure of patience on my part as we go about the arduous task of teaching and learning. I'll be sure to keep you posted on our progress! In the meantime, I encourage you to seize your own opportunities for relationship-building with your animal pals, and remember, please be kind to all the critters!
Wow, have I been gone awhile, or what?! My regular readers will know that I was rather busy, this past summer, falling in love with the most wonderful guy in the world! For those who haven't yet read my blog, things will make a lot more sense if you first scroll down and read the entry titled "Do Overs Part 2." For those of you who already read that entry, I'm pleased to report (major spoiler alert for new readers, here!) that Duddy and I are now engaged to be married and couldn't be happier about it!
While Duddy has had plenty of pets of his own, through the years, getting to know - and learning to live with - a Critter Lady has been quite an eye-opening experience for him. He's not accustomed to someone putting the needs of the animals first, for instance, and being shooed out of his own kitchen so that the cats can eat in peace really doesn't sit well with him. The duck who spent several days living in our bathroom gave him pause for thought as well: the smell of duck poop alone was enough to make him wonder about that whole happily-ever-after thing. At some point, he began to question where, exactly, he fell on the totem pole, and found it understandably galling when he realized that he wasn't necessarily at the top! What can I say - sick critters take precedence over healthy humans!
To give credit where credit is due, though, I'll say this: Duddy has been a surprisingly good sport about most of my critter peculiarities. At one point, he actually managed to get antibiotic pills down the throat of the aforementioned duck, which impressed the hell out of me. And, he's even made friends with formerly-feral Buddy the cat - a cat who sees little need for relationships of any kind. I have to figure, if Buddy likes him, Duddy must be doing something right!
Duddy also seems to have embraced volunteering with me at The Harmony Barn. While he's not a big fan of poop scooping, he attends to water bucket cleaning briskly and efficiently. After the buckets are all cleaned and refilled, he makes the rounds and visits with the critters he likes most. At the top of the list is Handsome Harry, the resident donkey. As he's done with every other volunteer, Harry has charmed Duddy by resting his huge head on Dud's shoulder. And while Duddy appears to dismiss my belief that if you talk to animals, they will talk back, I'm fairly certain that he and Harry have had some meaningful conversations when I wasn't around to overhear!
While Duddy knew little about horses before hooking up with me, he was intrigued about the concept of leasing a horse, once he learned that such a thing was possible. For those of you who don't know, horses are very expensive animals to own. In the first place, there's the monthly cost of boarding, which, in this area, runs about $350. I could buy a heck of a nice car for that price! In addition to boarding costs, there's the fee for the farrier to come trim the hooves every six weeks. Then there's worming, and dental care, and the price just goes through the roof. For folks who can't afford all that, leasing can be an option.
Leasing is basically renting a horse. You pay a monthly fee, and you get to ride as often as you wish without all the extra expenses like those I mentioned above. I'd never leased a horse before because I couldn't afford it, and I certainly never felt qualified enough: while there's an instructor present during lessons, you ride the leased horse on your own time, when there's generally no one around. It never occurred to me that I might know enough to be able to ride all on my own - didn't occur, that is, until I mentioned it to Duddy. He'd been casting about for a suitable gift for my birthday when the subject came up. Knowing how much I loved the Harmony Barn and its horses, he decided that my gift would be his leasing Bit for me. Wow!
Now, you regular readers know that I took a few lessons on Bit, and that we were slowly forging a relationship together. But leasing him, and figuring out how to fill my time with him, was another matter entirely. You might think that I would just go out to the barn, saddle him up, and hop on every time, but that was never the case. I suppose I could've done that, but I wanted more than to just ride around in circles in the arena; that can get boring pretty quickly!
So I set myself the task of trying to make him a trail rider. Since Ruckus died, we'd lost the one bomb-proof horse that could manage a trail ride calmly and smoothly. I knew that Wendy wasn't going to go out and find another trail horse - her mission is rescuing abused horses, and the space available at the barn for that is limited. The obvious solution seemed to be to teach a horse who was already in residence. Since no one had any objection to my idea, I took lead rope in hand and set about showing Bit what the world looked like on the other side of the fence.
There's a u-shaped track that parallels the pasture fence. Ron and Wendy use it to drive the poop-filled tractor out to the back of the property. Bit and I would walk that u-shaped track, stopping often so he could snack on the grass which grows in abundance out there. I made sure, in spite of the numerous times he startled at something, that every excursion ended positively, with lots of snacks, and lots of praise.
Day after day, week after week, we walked that track. When he startled at the corn stalks rustling in the wind on the neighboring property, I pulled a few ears and let him eat them. When he nervously eyed the old wooden wagon filled with junk and sitting forgotten next to the track, I walked him up to it, rapped my knuckles on it, and encouraged him to sniff out its harmlessness. Every scary issue was addressed quickly and confidently to ensure that he didn't harbor any lingering fear of it. And while it sounds like I knew exactly what I was doing in all this, I can assure you that I did not. I made it all up as I went along.
It was precisely because I had no idea what I was doing that I began to wonder whether I was actually making any progress. Perhaps the lack of any specific goals kept me from seeing the small changes as they occurred, but occur they did, and as we repeated this adventure time after time, I began to pick up on them. The most noteworthy change was that Bit startled less often. All those times I had calmly assured him that everything was o.k. were finally paying off. While that was encouraging, I still wasn't sure whether we were making real, lasting, progress until the day I walked out into the mud lot to collect him for yet another walk around the track.
To avoid predictability, I tried to mix up our routine. Some days, I would put a saddle on him before we took our walk so that he would get used to wearing a saddle outside the fence. Other days, I brought Duddy along on our walks so Bit would get used to the presence of distractions. We would walk in different directions on different days, and never stopped to graze in the same place twice. The whole point was to get him accustomed to the idea that strange new things weren't going to harm him and could, in fact, be rather pleasant. It actually became a non-routine routine!
Before our walks, I always groomed Bit and picked his hooves because I saw those things as part of my relationship-building efforts. Due to his EPM balance issues, picking his back hooves could be a real challenge. Indeed, during our lessons, I would have Connie stand in front of Bit to help maintain his focus while I tried to keep from getting kicked. Bit wasn't actually trying to kick me, he was flailing his back leg because he felt off-balance. Because I would be picking his hooves alone when I leased him, Connie insisted that I learn how to do it all by myself before leasing began. This I ultimately did, and being able to hang on to that flying leg seemed to reassure Bit that I could be counted on to handle whatever needed handling. Indeed, I seem to have succeeded in reassuring Bit, as I learned that day I walked out to the mud lot to collect him for yet another walk.
It was my habit to walk out into the mud lot and call out, "Where's Big Boy Bit?" I had begun to notice that he would drop what he was doing, when he heard my voice, and walk over to me from wherever he was. This particular day, though, he was clearly feeling downright enthusiastic because, much to my everlasting surprise, he came trotting around the corner of the barn! In my time on earth, I've had dogs run to greet me, the ducks at the pond run to greet me, and even the occasional cat, but never a horse! I was floored! In my search for an indication that my efforts with him were working, Bit's trotting across the mud lot to me was the proof I needed. We were, indeed, developing a relationship, and Bit's enthusiasm cheered me no end.
I made a point, then, of telling Duddy what a great gift his leasing of Bit was for me. While I certainly enjoyed riding Bit on those occasions when I did, the experience was about so much more than that: my confidence in myself and my horse knowledge was growing by leaps and bounds. In addition, the quiet time spent with Bit did wonders to calm the ever-present chaos in my head - the result of having been molested as a child. Those chaos-free hours have been better medicine than anything the pharmaceutical companies could dream up, and I've relished the time that I've been able to spend alone, quietly, with my best pal, Bit.
I've received some wonderful gifts in my life, but the gift of time with Bit has been by far the greatest. We've all heard it said that money can't buy happiness. While I have some sneaking suspicions about that - those rich people sure seem happy, don't they?! - it's been my experience that money buys opportunities, and it is those opportunities that can bring you happiness. Such has been the case with Duddy's generous gift. At the time, I had no idea that leasing Bit would be so fulfilling on so many levels, and I marvel, now, at how a modest sum of money brought so much peace and joy to my life. If any of you ever get a chance to lease a horse, I urge you to grab that opportunity and run with it!
With winter weather now nipping at my heels, here in Northwest Ohio, it will be too cold outside to continue our walks. So I've set myself a new task - improving Bit's ground manners. I have no idea how to go about that or whether I'll succeed, but I know it will involve a large measure of patience on my part as we go about the arduous task of teaching and learning. I'll be sure to keep you posted on our progress! In the meantime, I encourage you to seize your own opportunities for relationship-building with your animal pals, and remember, please be kind to all the critters!
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Do-Overs Part 2
Hi Folks! Thanks for stopping by!
As many of you regular readers know, I occasionally like to veer off the subject of animals and write about other things. I do this because the story generally involves a "Thing" that interests me, and might interest you, too. Such is the case with this entry. For those of you who are new to my blog, this story will make a lot more sense if you go into the archives on the right side of the page and read the entry called "Do-Overs" that was published September 5, 2011.
* * *
His name is Dudley, but no one ever called him that. To those of us who shared the small town of Whoville with him, he was "Duddy." He first turned up on my radar in junior high, when I heard other kids talking about him. Cute, slender, with a mop of sun-bleached hair and an easy-going nature, all the girls wanted to date him. Because he was a year younger than me, though, I didn't give him much thought until I saw him at a party a couple of years into high school.
Those high school parties were all about under-age drinking. Any time someone's parents went out of town, we gathered in large numbers, bringing with us cases of illicitly-bought beer, bongs, bottles of hard liquor- whatever we could get our hands on. We'd turn the music up loud enough to piss off the neighbors, and generally have a fine time pickling our livers while Whoville's Finest turned a blind eye to our antics: many of the heaviest drinkers were star players on the high school sports teams.
This particular party was the same as all the others but for one thing: Duddy was there, and he had with him an acoustic guitar. He and his buddy Jeff sat down a few feet away from me and proceeded to play a surprising repertoire: songs by America, and Neil Young, played well and with feeling. One of them - I can no longer recall who - even played harmonica, as well.
Of the little that I actually do remember about my time in high school, 30-odd years later, I remember this: Duddy played America's "Lonely People," and it was magical. It was magical because for the two minutes and twenty-seven seconds that it took him to play the song, Duddy was lost in the music, and I, lost in him, watching. I was fascinated! He seemed so comfortable in his own skin, so confident. And so cute!
A year or so later, I worked up the courage to ask him to accompany me to one of the high school's formal dances. To my everlasting surprise, he said yes. While I have no memories of the dance itself, I vividly recall how, as we stood in front of the fireplace at his mom's house posing for pictures, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I was instantly transported to a heaven that I didn't know existed! It seemed so important then, and so silly now, but that impulsive peck cemented Duddy's place in my memory. To this day, I feel the same giddiness, recalling the moment, that I felt at the time it happened.
There were a few make-out sessions after that dance, but we were never a couple. I don't know why. We drifted through the subsequent years of high school running around with our respective crowds, and then I joined the service. While I didn't stay in for the entire period of enlistment, I was still in the army when Duddy's younger sister Katharine - who I had befriended my junior year for the admittedly selfish reason of wanting to spend more time in Duddy's orbit - sent me a picture with a note attached: Duddy had gotten married. At nineteen! She was a local girl, and they were expecting. Our lives took wildly divergent paths, then. But while I wouldn't see Duddy again for many years, I never forgot him entirely.
He came back on the radar just after his mother died. I read the obituary in the Whoville Journal and immediately got in touch with Katharine. She and I spent a few months, then, keeping each other company as she worked through her grief. Duddy was playing some gigs with a band at a local bar, and we'd go watch them play. It was fun, but it wasn't magical - there were too many people there, and it was too impersonal. The magic happened when Duddy came by his sister's house one evening and stayed into the small hours of the night.
Pulling out the guitar he'd brought with him, he stood before me and serenaded me with America's "Sister Golden Hair." I sat on the couch in awe, feeling like a shy teenager all over again. For a while, time stood still, and we were cocooned in a moment that neither of us wanted to end. We were both at places in our lives that wouldn't permit us to take things any further than those precious few minutes, although I did muster my courage at one point and let him know I was open to the idea of dating him. The comment floated between us but nothing else was said. At the time, I took Duddy's silence to mean he wasn't interested. It would be twelve years before I learned that I couldn't have been more wrong.
Those twelve years were hard ones for Duddy, and for me. I spent them dealing with the aftermath of having been molested as a child, suffering from depression, isolation, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Slowly, as time went by, I found a measure of self, and sanity. At the same time, Duddy's life spiraled out of control. After his divorce, there was a hideously toxic relationship, drinking and drugs. I had no idea how awful things were until I found Katharine on facebook and asked my usual How's Duddy these days? The answer shocked me, and I fully expected to hear that Duddy had died from alcoholism, or something worse. I actually spent some time listening to my Best of America CD and thinking about what I might say at his funeral. It was that bad.
You can imagine my surprise when he turned up on facebook, alive and well! I immediately sent a friend request, which was granted within minutes. We got to talking, then, me asking questions, and Duddy responding with mostly monosyllabic answers: How are you doing these days? Gettin' old. Playing much? No band now, just me. I was getting nowhere fast when I threw out the game-changer: What's a girl got to do to get you to play for her? That did the trick! Next thing I knew, I was picking him up at the half-way house he was living in, and driving to Olive Garden, where I spent the next few hours being pleasantly surprised.
He peered at me over the glasses that had slipped down his nose. It was an incredibly endearing look, made all the more so by his determination to tell me his story. The words spilled out, tumbling on top of one another in his hurry to fill me in. Yes, he said, there had been years of chaos and insanity. After his marriage ended, there was a relationship in which he had become a battered boyfriend, and alcoholism that would've killed him if he'd let it. The half-way house was his salvation, coming, as it did, after thirty days of inpatient rehab. Duddy was sober, and proud of it. His new-found enthusiasm for life was infectious, and by the end of the evening, I found myself hoping that we would see each other again soon.
In fact, we got together again the very next night. He brought his guitar along, and spent an hour or so singing all sorts of songs - including "Lonely People." It was my own private concert, and I relished every minute of it. Things had clearly changed between us, after all those years, but the changes were for the better: now, we brought sanity and sobriety to the mix, as well as the maturity that comes from having lived and learned. We were still giddy teenagers, but we were sensible adults now, too. It was an interesting mix of feelings.
When the radio announced that America would be playing a concert an hour away, we jumped at the chance to see them. We arrived early at the gated community that was hosting the gig, marveling at the genteel charm of the village as well as the incredibly cheap ticket prices. The seats in the 80 year-old auditorium were first come-first serve. We ended up in row 17, center aisle. We couldn't have bought better seats at any other venue. When America came on stage and started singing "Lonely People," things seemed to come full circle: there I was, listening to the band whose songs Duddy had played at that party all those years ago, and there he was, sitting right next to me, playing air guitar to his favorite tunes. It was - yep, you guessed it - magical!
It was unfortunate that Gerry Beckley had some sort of voice issue going on that rendered him more of a Muppet than an actual singer. Imagine Kermit the frog singing "A Horse With No Name" and you'll understand what I mean. His backup vocals were fine, but when he sang lead, his voice went places it simply shouldn't have, which sent Duddy and I into fits of giggles. And here's the Thing: Duddy and I laugh with abandon. We giggle like teenagers. And we smile like people who have been to hell and back and are grateful to have survived the trip. Life is suddenly very interesting indeed!
Where the future will take us, no one knows, but this much is certain: after years of wondering what could've been, we're finally getting a chance to find out. Few people get this lucky, and we both feel extremely fortunate that the Gods smiled on us after all our respective years of agony. We've definitely earned our do-over, and we fully intend to make the most of it!
That's all for now! Thanks for reading this anyway, even though it had nothing to do with critters! Please feel free to leave a comment below so I know you were here!
As many of you regular readers know, I occasionally like to veer off the subject of animals and write about other things. I do this because the story generally involves a "Thing" that interests me, and might interest you, too. Such is the case with this entry. For those of you who are new to my blog, this story will make a lot more sense if you go into the archives on the right side of the page and read the entry called "Do-Overs" that was published September 5, 2011.
* * *
His name is Dudley, but no one ever called him that. To those of us who shared the small town of Whoville with him, he was "Duddy." He first turned up on my radar in junior high, when I heard other kids talking about him. Cute, slender, with a mop of sun-bleached hair and an easy-going nature, all the girls wanted to date him. Because he was a year younger than me, though, I didn't give him much thought until I saw him at a party a couple of years into high school.
Those high school parties were all about under-age drinking. Any time someone's parents went out of town, we gathered in large numbers, bringing with us cases of illicitly-bought beer, bongs, bottles of hard liquor- whatever we could get our hands on. We'd turn the music up loud enough to piss off the neighbors, and generally have a fine time pickling our livers while Whoville's Finest turned a blind eye to our antics: many of the heaviest drinkers were star players on the high school sports teams.
This particular party was the same as all the others but for one thing: Duddy was there, and he had with him an acoustic guitar. He and his buddy Jeff sat down a few feet away from me and proceeded to play a surprising repertoire: songs by America, and Neil Young, played well and with feeling. One of them - I can no longer recall who - even played harmonica, as well.
Of the little that I actually do remember about my time in high school, 30-odd years later, I remember this: Duddy played America's "Lonely People," and it was magical. It was magical because for the two minutes and twenty-seven seconds that it took him to play the song, Duddy was lost in the music, and I, lost in him, watching. I was fascinated! He seemed so comfortable in his own skin, so confident. And so cute!
A year or so later, I worked up the courage to ask him to accompany me to one of the high school's formal dances. To my everlasting surprise, he said yes. While I have no memories of the dance itself, I vividly recall how, as we stood in front of the fireplace at his mom's house posing for pictures, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. I was instantly transported to a heaven that I didn't know existed! It seemed so important then, and so silly now, but that impulsive peck cemented Duddy's place in my memory. To this day, I feel the same giddiness, recalling the moment, that I felt at the time it happened.
There were a few make-out sessions after that dance, but we were never a couple. I don't know why. We drifted through the subsequent years of high school running around with our respective crowds, and then I joined the service. While I didn't stay in for the entire period of enlistment, I was still in the army when Duddy's younger sister Katharine - who I had befriended my junior year for the admittedly selfish reason of wanting to spend more time in Duddy's orbit - sent me a picture with a note attached: Duddy had gotten married. At nineteen! She was a local girl, and they were expecting. Our lives took wildly divergent paths, then. But while I wouldn't see Duddy again for many years, I never forgot him entirely.
He came back on the radar just after his mother died. I read the obituary in the Whoville Journal and immediately got in touch with Katharine. She and I spent a few months, then, keeping each other company as she worked through her grief. Duddy was playing some gigs with a band at a local bar, and we'd go watch them play. It was fun, but it wasn't magical - there were too many people there, and it was too impersonal. The magic happened when Duddy came by his sister's house one evening and stayed into the small hours of the night.
Pulling out the guitar he'd brought with him, he stood before me and serenaded me with America's "Sister Golden Hair." I sat on the couch in awe, feeling like a shy teenager all over again. For a while, time stood still, and we were cocooned in a moment that neither of us wanted to end. We were both at places in our lives that wouldn't permit us to take things any further than those precious few minutes, although I did muster my courage at one point and let him know I was open to the idea of dating him. The comment floated between us but nothing else was said. At the time, I took Duddy's silence to mean he wasn't interested. It would be twelve years before I learned that I couldn't have been more wrong.
Those twelve years were hard ones for Duddy, and for me. I spent them dealing with the aftermath of having been molested as a child, suffering from depression, isolation, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Slowly, as time went by, I found a measure of self, and sanity. At the same time, Duddy's life spiraled out of control. After his divorce, there was a hideously toxic relationship, drinking and drugs. I had no idea how awful things were until I found Katharine on facebook and asked my usual How's Duddy these days? The answer shocked me, and I fully expected to hear that Duddy had died from alcoholism, or something worse. I actually spent some time listening to my Best of America CD and thinking about what I might say at his funeral. It was that bad.
You can imagine my surprise when he turned up on facebook, alive and well! I immediately sent a friend request, which was granted within minutes. We got to talking, then, me asking questions, and Duddy responding with mostly monosyllabic answers: How are you doing these days? Gettin' old. Playing much? No band now, just me. I was getting nowhere fast when I threw out the game-changer: What's a girl got to do to get you to play for her? That did the trick! Next thing I knew, I was picking him up at the half-way house he was living in, and driving to Olive Garden, where I spent the next few hours being pleasantly surprised.
He peered at me over the glasses that had slipped down his nose. It was an incredibly endearing look, made all the more so by his determination to tell me his story. The words spilled out, tumbling on top of one another in his hurry to fill me in. Yes, he said, there had been years of chaos and insanity. After his marriage ended, there was a relationship in which he had become a battered boyfriend, and alcoholism that would've killed him if he'd let it. The half-way house was his salvation, coming, as it did, after thirty days of inpatient rehab. Duddy was sober, and proud of it. His new-found enthusiasm for life was infectious, and by the end of the evening, I found myself hoping that we would see each other again soon.
In fact, we got together again the very next night. He brought his guitar along, and spent an hour or so singing all sorts of songs - including "Lonely People." It was my own private concert, and I relished every minute of it. Things had clearly changed between us, after all those years, but the changes were for the better: now, we brought sanity and sobriety to the mix, as well as the maturity that comes from having lived and learned. We were still giddy teenagers, but we were sensible adults now, too. It was an interesting mix of feelings.
When the radio announced that America would be playing a concert an hour away, we jumped at the chance to see them. We arrived early at the gated community that was hosting the gig, marveling at the genteel charm of the village as well as the incredibly cheap ticket prices. The seats in the 80 year-old auditorium were first come-first serve. We ended up in row 17, center aisle. We couldn't have bought better seats at any other venue. When America came on stage and started singing "Lonely People," things seemed to come full circle: there I was, listening to the band whose songs Duddy had played at that party all those years ago, and there he was, sitting right next to me, playing air guitar to his favorite tunes. It was - yep, you guessed it - magical!
It was unfortunate that Gerry Beckley had some sort of voice issue going on that rendered him more of a Muppet than an actual singer. Imagine Kermit the frog singing "A Horse With No Name" and you'll understand what I mean. His backup vocals were fine, but when he sang lead, his voice went places it simply shouldn't have, which sent Duddy and I into fits of giggles. And here's the Thing: Duddy and I laugh with abandon. We giggle like teenagers. And we smile like people who have been to hell and back and are grateful to have survived the trip. Life is suddenly very interesting indeed!
Where the future will take us, no one knows, but this much is certain: after years of wondering what could've been, we're finally getting a chance to find out. Few people get this lucky, and we both feel extremely fortunate that the Gods smiled on us after all our respective years of agony. We've definitely earned our do-over, and we fully intend to make the most of it!
That's all for now! Thanks for reading this anyway, even though it had nothing to do with critters! Please feel free to leave a comment below so I know you were here!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Notes From The Critter Lady
Hi Folks! Thanks for stopping by!
I had intended to write one story like I always do, but there has been quite a bit of activity happening lately, so I thought I'd touch upon some of the events I've dealt with recently.
As you know, I look after a gang of abandoned flightless ducks at McKinnon's Pond here in Whoville. At last count, there were twelve ducks all living quietly on the pond. Most have mates, particularly at this time of year, which is mating season. They've all staked out a small bit of territory around the pond, and they all tend to respect each other's areas. If someone crosses a territorial line, he/she is quickly sent back across the DMZ!
If you've read my book, Crazy Critter Lady (available at amazon.com), you'll know that there are actually two ponds within close proximity to each other: McKinnon's Pond, and the one I refer to as the "small pond well-suited to ice skating in winter, and quiet reflection in summer." It was at this small, nameless pond that someone recently abandoned six fully grown Pekin ducks.
I'm told that someone witnessed a child leaving the ducks, but six full-grown Pekins is more than one youngster could handle; there's no doubt in my mind that at least one adult was also involved. Regardless, when Animal Control Officer Dave called and told me about them, all I could do was shake my head in disgust. When I went to check them out for myself, I thought tiredly that I didn't have the energy to worry about six more ducks, and I wondered what could be done about them. I left them some cracked corn, but the poor creatures were so terrified that they never ate it. I noticed on subsequent visits that they didn't touch the corn left by my volunteer, either.
It was Officer Dave who proposed rescuing the ducks, and he wanted to do it quickly: he was due to go on vacation, and didn't want to have to worry about them while he was gone. After I consulted a couple of duck rescue sanctuaries on Facebook, Dave and I hatched a plan we were confident would succeed: Dave borrowed some temporary orange fencing of the kind that you see around construction zones. We agreed on the best place to set up the fencing, then Dave went off to round up some teenagers who were spending the summer working for the City of Whoville. When he returned, we discussed strategy with the kids, and put everyone in position.
Dave had assigned me the task of herding the ducks. We were fortunate in that all six continued to huddle together under a tree, rather than separate out in the water. I advanced on them with measured, deliberate steps, walking ever so carefully. I didn't want them splitting up and running in different directions. Slowly, the huddled mass was herded toward the staging area. Dave and the kids flanked us on the right, effectively cutting off any chance of the ducks veering in that direction. Thankfully, it didn't occur to the ducks to run into the water, so I continued to press gently onward until they walked into the staging area. Dave quickly closed them in, and then he and I proceeded to grab the ducks one by one and put them into the cage he had brought along for that purpose. After we all posed for pictures, Dave drove the ducks to their new home, thanks to a name supplied by the local Humane Society. Everyone walked away immensely satisfied by the happy ending.
Make no mistake: we got lucky. We got very lucky! The Gods were definitely smiling on us that day, because when ducks feel threatened on land, they almost always head straight for the water. Had they done so during our rescue attempt, we would have had to come back another day - with a boat, no less! - and try again, and no one wanted to do that. Dave and I knew exactly how lucky we'd been, and ended up so pleased with ourselves that we shared not one, but two congratulatory fist bumps! We parted company hoping we wouldn't be called upon to do any more rescues like that one any time soon.
Not long after that rescue, one of my abandoned gang was killed by a predator. I had developed a pleasant routine with Mama Duck - pronounced with the emphasis on the second syllable - while she was nesting this spring. Mama was a sneaky girl whose nests were always difficult to find. Those nests had eluded my best search efforts more than once: indeed, Little Nipper - whose leg injury required me to rehab him my bathroom a couple of years ago - was one of her offspring.
While I was out looking for her nest this past spring, I happened upon a fellow outside one of the apartment buildings that fronts McKinnon's Pond. Offhandedly, I asked whether he knew of any duck nests in the area, and he immediately pointed me toward a large evergreen shrub, behind which was Mama's nest. Boy, did I get lucky, there: I would never have found it on my own! Since Mama was a very dedicated nest-sitter, and since I knew better than to leave food lying around near her nest (it attracts predators), I got into the habit of picking her up off the nest and moving her a short distance away, where I would dump out a portion of cracked corn for her.
It must be said that Mama never enjoyed - let alone appreciated - this routine. Every time I reached down behind the shrub, she would swivel her head around and nip me repeatedly. Like Pretty Boy before her, though, I think she pulled her punches because those bites never hurt. I would grasp Mama around her torso, leaving her wings free. I was always surprised that she didn't flap those wings in an attempt to get away. Rather, she would extend them to their full width, as though she were gliding on an updraft. Those may well have been the only times in her life that she experienced the sensation of flight. When I set her on the ground, she always made a mad dash for the food. I would walk away content with the knowledge that she was getting a decent meal.
It was the fellow that first showed me Mama's nest who contacted me through youtube (where I've posted a number of videos featuring the McKinnon's Pond ducks), and told me the bad news that Mama had been killed. It's a hazard of doing business, of course - there's never a guarantee that those abandoned ducks will live long, healthy lives in the wild. More often than not, they don't. But knowing that never makes it any easier to lose one.
Later the same day that I got the young man's message, I went to see for myself. The body was gone, but there were several piles of duck down that told the story. I picked up one of the feathers to remember her by, and said a prayer to the Gods, asking that they take Mama right up to heaven where she belongs. I sure will miss our routine!
* * *
Meanwhile, there was a shrub of considerable size growing next to the shed in my back yard. One big branch jutted out in such a way that it looked like two very big shrubs were growing right next to each other. It looked messy, and that bothered the aesthete in me: I like things to look neat, balanced, and orderly, and this did not. I asked Fiance John to come over and remove the big jutting branch for me, and since he's one of those Tim the Toolman types who likes man-toys, he happily brought his chainsaw over and did as I requested.
It never occurred to me, until we started removing the chopped-up branch, that a bird might be nesting in it. It didn't occur to me, that is, until a robin jumped out of the fallen foliage and flew off, chirping angrily. The next thing you know, John discovered the nest, and I discovered the broken robin's egg on the ground. The robin herself chastised us at length from a nearby tree.
I felt awful! I'm the Critter Lady, for heaven's sake! This is exactly the sort of thing that's supposed to occur to me! I picked out a decent nest site in the remaining shrub, and replaced the nest, but there's no indication that the robin is using it. I don't blame her for being angry with me. I'm angry with myself. Next time, of course, I'll know better; it's learning the hard way - at someone's expense - that causes me anguish.
* * *
So that's what's been happening in my neck of the woods. It's definitely been a mixed bag of happy success at righting a cruel wrong, and sadness at the loss of one of my duck friends, and at displacing an innocent bystander who had no idea that her home would be felled along with an ugly bit of shrubbery. I try not to dwell on the sorrow, but it's there nonetheless. Hopefully, I will have a more uplifting story to tell you next time around. In the meantime, have a great summer and please be kind to all the critters!
I had intended to write one story like I always do, but there has been quite a bit of activity happening lately, so I thought I'd touch upon some of the events I've dealt with recently.
As you know, I look after a gang of abandoned flightless ducks at McKinnon's Pond here in Whoville. At last count, there were twelve ducks all living quietly on the pond. Most have mates, particularly at this time of year, which is mating season. They've all staked out a small bit of territory around the pond, and they all tend to respect each other's areas. If someone crosses a territorial line, he/she is quickly sent back across the DMZ!
If you've read my book, Crazy Critter Lady (available at amazon.com), you'll know that there are actually two ponds within close proximity to each other: McKinnon's Pond, and the one I refer to as the "small pond well-suited to ice skating in winter, and quiet reflection in summer." It was at this small, nameless pond that someone recently abandoned six fully grown Pekin ducks.
I'm told that someone witnessed a child leaving the ducks, but six full-grown Pekins is more than one youngster could handle; there's no doubt in my mind that at least one adult was also involved. Regardless, when Animal Control Officer Dave called and told me about them, all I could do was shake my head in disgust. When I went to check them out for myself, I thought tiredly that I didn't have the energy to worry about six more ducks, and I wondered what could be done about them. I left them some cracked corn, but the poor creatures were so terrified that they never ate it. I noticed on subsequent visits that they didn't touch the corn left by my volunteer, either.
It was Officer Dave who proposed rescuing the ducks, and he wanted to do it quickly: he was due to go on vacation, and didn't want to have to worry about them while he was gone. After I consulted a couple of duck rescue sanctuaries on Facebook, Dave and I hatched a plan we were confident would succeed: Dave borrowed some temporary orange fencing of the kind that you see around construction zones. We agreed on the best place to set up the fencing, then Dave went off to round up some teenagers who were spending the summer working for the City of Whoville. When he returned, we discussed strategy with the kids, and put everyone in position.
Dave had assigned me the task of herding the ducks. We were fortunate in that all six continued to huddle together under a tree, rather than separate out in the water. I advanced on them with measured, deliberate steps, walking ever so carefully. I didn't want them splitting up and running in different directions. Slowly, the huddled mass was herded toward the staging area. Dave and the kids flanked us on the right, effectively cutting off any chance of the ducks veering in that direction. Thankfully, it didn't occur to the ducks to run into the water, so I continued to press gently onward until they walked into the staging area. Dave quickly closed them in, and then he and I proceeded to grab the ducks one by one and put them into the cage he had brought along for that purpose. After we all posed for pictures, Dave drove the ducks to their new home, thanks to a name supplied by the local Humane Society. Everyone walked away immensely satisfied by the happy ending.
Make no mistake: we got lucky. We got very lucky! The Gods were definitely smiling on us that day, because when ducks feel threatened on land, they almost always head straight for the water. Had they done so during our rescue attempt, we would have had to come back another day - with a boat, no less! - and try again, and no one wanted to do that. Dave and I knew exactly how lucky we'd been, and ended up so pleased with ourselves that we shared not one, but two congratulatory fist bumps! We parted company hoping we wouldn't be called upon to do any more rescues like that one any time soon.
* * *
Not long after that rescue, one of my abandoned gang was killed by a predator. I had developed a pleasant routine with Mama Duck - pronounced with the emphasis on the second syllable - while she was nesting this spring. Mama was a sneaky girl whose nests were always difficult to find. Those nests had eluded my best search efforts more than once: indeed, Little Nipper - whose leg injury required me to rehab him my bathroom a couple of years ago - was one of her offspring.
While I was out looking for her nest this past spring, I happened upon a fellow outside one of the apartment buildings that fronts McKinnon's Pond. Offhandedly, I asked whether he knew of any duck nests in the area, and he immediately pointed me toward a large evergreen shrub, behind which was Mama's nest. Boy, did I get lucky, there: I would never have found it on my own! Since Mama was a very dedicated nest-sitter, and since I knew better than to leave food lying around near her nest (it attracts predators), I got into the habit of picking her up off the nest and moving her a short distance away, where I would dump out a portion of cracked corn for her.
It must be said that Mama never enjoyed - let alone appreciated - this routine. Every time I reached down behind the shrub, she would swivel her head around and nip me repeatedly. Like Pretty Boy before her, though, I think she pulled her punches because those bites never hurt. I would grasp Mama around her torso, leaving her wings free. I was always surprised that she didn't flap those wings in an attempt to get away. Rather, she would extend them to their full width, as though she were gliding on an updraft. Those may well have been the only times in her life that she experienced the sensation of flight. When I set her on the ground, she always made a mad dash for the food. I would walk away content with the knowledge that she was getting a decent meal.
It was the fellow that first showed me Mama's nest who contacted me through youtube (where I've posted a number of videos featuring the McKinnon's Pond ducks), and told me the bad news that Mama had been killed. It's a hazard of doing business, of course - there's never a guarantee that those abandoned ducks will live long, healthy lives in the wild. More often than not, they don't. But knowing that never makes it any easier to lose one.
Later the same day that I got the young man's message, I went to see for myself. The body was gone, but there were several piles of duck down that told the story. I picked up one of the feathers to remember her by, and said a prayer to the Gods, asking that they take Mama right up to heaven where she belongs. I sure will miss our routine!
* * *
Meanwhile, there was a shrub of considerable size growing next to the shed in my back yard. One big branch jutted out in such a way that it looked like two very big shrubs were growing right next to each other. It looked messy, and that bothered the aesthete in me: I like things to look neat, balanced, and orderly, and this did not. I asked Fiance John to come over and remove the big jutting branch for me, and since he's one of those Tim the Toolman types who likes man-toys, he happily brought his chainsaw over and did as I requested.
It never occurred to me, until we started removing the chopped-up branch, that a bird might be nesting in it. It didn't occur to me, that is, until a robin jumped out of the fallen foliage and flew off, chirping angrily. The next thing you know, John discovered the nest, and I discovered the broken robin's egg on the ground. The robin herself chastised us at length from a nearby tree.
I felt awful! I'm the Critter Lady, for heaven's sake! This is exactly the sort of thing that's supposed to occur to me! I picked out a decent nest site in the remaining shrub, and replaced the nest, but there's no indication that the robin is using it. I don't blame her for being angry with me. I'm angry with myself. Next time, of course, I'll know better; it's learning the hard way - at someone's expense - that causes me anguish.
* * *
So that's what's been happening in my neck of the woods. It's definitely been a mixed bag of happy success at righting a cruel wrong, and sadness at the loss of one of my duck friends, and at displacing an innocent bystander who had no idea that her home would be felled along with an ugly bit of shrubbery. I try not to dwell on the sorrow, but it's there nonetheless. Hopefully, I will have a more uplifting story to tell you next time around. In the meantime, have a great summer and please be kind to all the critters!
Friday, May 25, 2012
Something Fun To Do!
Hi Folks!
While you're waiting for me to post another blog entry, why not check out McGuffy's Reader blog site? There's a fun critter-themed interview, and also a review of my book, Crazy Critter Lady. Here's the link, just copy and paste it to your search engine:
http://mcguffysreader.blogspot.com/2012/05/meet-kelly-meister.html
While you're waiting for me to post another blog entry, why not check out McGuffy's Reader blog site? There's a fun critter-themed interview, and also a review of my book, Crazy Critter Lady. Here's the link, just copy and paste it to your search engine:
http://mcguffysreader.blogspot.com/2012/05/meet-kelly-meister.html
Saturday, May 19, 2012
A Little Bit Of Beau
Hi Folks!
Thanks for stopping by!
I want to apologize for taking so long to post a new blog entry. Those of you who are regular readers will recall that the last few months of 2011 were heart-wrenching for me, what with the loss of both my lesson horse, Ruckus, and everyone's favorite cranky donkey, Cricket. That double whammy of deaths really took its toll on me, and I just didn't have the mental energy to write until now.
As I've mentioned in previous posts, I had been itching for new challenges out at the barn for some time. Although I loved Ruckus dearly, I felt like I'd gotten pretty much all I was ever going to get out of our lessons. He was great for trail riding, but it became clear that if I wanted to take myself to the next level, it would need to be on a different horse. To mix things up, I started riding Charlie.
Charlie Horse is a challenge because you have to stay out of his mouth and steer him primarily with your legs. My understanding is that Charlie had been treated very roughly before he came to the Harmony Barn, rendering his mouth very sensitive. While it may sound like an easy enough thing to do, steering with your legs, I can tell you that there's definitely an art to it, and it takes time to learn to finesse it. As an example, I've seen a couple of barn urchins give him what they thought was a command to step sideways, while Charlie thought it was the command to lope off. Two inexperienced young 'uns got quite an unexpected ride that day!
Even though there are definite challenges in learning how to ride Charlie Horse properly, I still felt like something significant was missing. In hindsight, I know that that missing element was having a relationship with the horse: Charlie's willing enough to tolerate beginners on his back, but he makes it very clear that he's not interested in bonding with us. My riding instructor will take exception to that comment, but she spends a lot more time around Charlie than we volunteers do. Riding him infrequently doesn't give us enough time to build a friendship.
In the aftermath of Ruckus's death, we all realized that we had lost our go-to horse. A young child stops by who's never ridden a horse? Put her on Ruckus. Take a trail ride out where unpredictable things happen? Ride Ruckus. Reward the urchins for all their hard work on Saturday mornings? Let them get on Ruckus. With Ruckus gone, there was no one to turn to except Charlie, and by the time two or three irritating children had trotted him around the arena numerous times, he'd had enough. It was hard for me to get much out of him at that point.
So barn owner Wendy began casting about for options. There were plenty of horses in residence, but very few actual candidates: rescue Buddy has horrible issues stemming from a yearling halter that was left on too long, so he's never going to let anyone put a bridle on him. Jem has conformation issues that render him unusable as anything other than a pasture pal. Newman's too old, and Magic, too young. Wendy does have an older rescue horse that needs to be ridden regularly, but Angel tends to be shy and skittish, which, as it happens, are the two main reasons I prefer not to ride her! That just leaves Bit.
Little Bit of Beau is an EPM horse. EPM is a disease that affects the central nervous system. Symptoms can include tripping, and loss of coordination - huge problems when you're trying to show or compete on a horse! I'm told that Bit displayed those symptoms before he came to the Harmony Barn, and has been treated for it since coming to the barn. But I don't think that EPM is the reason why he'd never been considered an option for us to ride. I think the reason had more to do with his personality.
I'll be honest here and say that I spent several years not liking Bit. He was much too in-your-face for my tastes. If you stood next to him, he'd push his head against you and knock you off balance. While old Newman ruled the herd with quiet authority, his protege Bit rules with an iron hoof! Where old Newman would only have to walk into the arena for the horses to settle down, Bit feels the need to run around pinning his ears at everyone! He was way too much horse for me, so I didn't give him a second thought until Ruckus died.
I ran the idea by Wendy, asking what she thought about riding instructor Connie giving me lessons on Bit. Much to my considerable surprise, Wendy thought the idea had possibilities. The next thing I knew, Connie and I had scheduled a lesson.
Contrary to his name, there's nothing little about Bit! He's one big horse! Tall, muscular, assertive - he can be quite intimidating. I did my best to act nonchalant as I groomed him that first time, but inwardly, I was thinking about how far down the ground was going to be, should I end up getting tossed out of the saddle. I'd seen a more experienced girl ride him, and there had been a lot of prancing on his part. What chance did I have as a novice who lacked confidence? Connie tried to reassure me, but I was skeptical. For his part, Bit gave me plenty to think about during - and after - that first lesson.
For one thing, if he didn't want to do what I told him to, he'd do something else instead. The "something else" generally involved low-level shenanigans like prancing about (which, for the uninitiated, feels like the horse is about to take off at a gallop and leave you behind), and throwing in the odd buck and rear. These weren't full blown bucks and rears, but rather, just enough to emphasize his point. I lost track of how many times I frantically asked Connie, "What's he doing? What's he doing?" To her credit, Connie managed to stifle whatever chuckling she surely wanted to do. "You're o.k.," she kept saying, "he's not going to hurt you!" And in this, she turned out to be right.
In spite of my trepidation, I was intrigued enough to schedule another lesson on Bit - and another, and another! We've had four lessons together, now, and after every one, Connie expresses her belief that Bit and I are coming together as a team quite nicely. I'm inclined to agree: while he continues to throw his own brand of challenges into every lesson, we are finding ways to communicate together that tell me we're on the right track. Indeed, the most telling communication of all didn't even happen during a lesson. It happened today after we volunteers had finished mucking out stalls.
Being the Critter Lady, I take a lot of pictures at the barn. I take pictures of all the urchins with their favorite horses, and I have them take pictures of me with mine. Anyone who follows me on Facebook already knows that Bit does not stand still for pictures. Don't get me wrong, he stands still just fine - until you aim a camera at him! Then, he's all about swinging his ginormous head around, and trying to use my leg as a scratching post. But not today. Today, he stood still for a number of pictures with me, and even some with the kids, as well. When we were done, I unhooked the lead rope and told him he was free to go boss the herd around. But here's the thing: he didn't leave.
While I took pictures of Lydia and Buddy, and Michaela and Angel, there was Bit, lurking about. While I took pictures of fiance John with old Newman, there was Bit, lurking about. He stood here for a time, then moved a few feet away and stood there for a time, all the while looking over at me to see whether I had a snack for him, or possibly a command or two. The striking thing was that he was looking to me - for direction, for companionship - rather than looking at me, and this was the first time he'd done that on his own, without me on his back. It was a pretty cool moment for me when I figured that out!
There can be a world of difference between what goes on on a horse's back, and what goes on in the mud lot, when he's free to do as he pleases. When Charlie Horse is under saddle, he behaves very well. When he's in the mud lot, he'd just as soon stand off by himself and crib, rather than interact with me or the urchins. And, generally speaking, Bit's usually too busy moving the herd from one side of the poop pile to the other and back again to stop and take notice of what the volunteers are up to. Ordinarily, he would give us all a cursory glance, make sure we weren't doing anything that required his attention, and then go on about his business. To hang around with me for twenty-odd minutes of his own volition was extraordinary. It's something I won't soon forget!
There's definitely a relationship forming between Bit and I, and there's so much more to it than just getting on his back and riding. The time I spend with him on the ground is also an investment in the bond that's developing, and it's just what I've been needing, after suffering the loss of Ruckus. There will never be a replacement horse - there was, and ever will be, only one Ruckus - but as I've said before, eventually, it is necessary to move forward, to form new relationships with other critters, to let yourself love again, even though you know that one day, your heart will be broken by yet another critter death. These wonderful relationships are vital to the well-being of our souls. And, quite possibly, theirs, too.
That's all for now, folks! Thanks so much for hanging in there while I took time to grieve. Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
Thanks for stopping by!
I want to apologize for taking so long to post a new blog entry. Those of you who are regular readers will recall that the last few months of 2011 were heart-wrenching for me, what with the loss of both my lesson horse, Ruckus, and everyone's favorite cranky donkey, Cricket. That double whammy of deaths really took its toll on me, and I just didn't have the mental energy to write until now.
As I've mentioned in previous posts, I had been itching for new challenges out at the barn for some time. Although I loved Ruckus dearly, I felt like I'd gotten pretty much all I was ever going to get out of our lessons. He was great for trail riding, but it became clear that if I wanted to take myself to the next level, it would need to be on a different horse. To mix things up, I started riding Charlie.
Charlie Horse is a challenge because you have to stay out of his mouth and steer him primarily with your legs. My understanding is that Charlie had been treated very roughly before he came to the Harmony Barn, rendering his mouth very sensitive. While it may sound like an easy enough thing to do, steering with your legs, I can tell you that there's definitely an art to it, and it takes time to learn to finesse it. As an example, I've seen a couple of barn urchins give him what they thought was a command to step sideways, while Charlie thought it was the command to lope off. Two inexperienced young 'uns got quite an unexpected ride that day!
Even though there are definite challenges in learning how to ride Charlie Horse properly, I still felt like something significant was missing. In hindsight, I know that that missing element was having a relationship with the horse: Charlie's willing enough to tolerate beginners on his back, but he makes it very clear that he's not interested in bonding with us. My riding instructor will take exception to that comment, but she spends a lot more time around Charlie than we volunteers do. Riding him infrequently doesn't give us enough time to build a friendship.
In the aftermath of Ruckus's death, we all realized that we had lost our go-to horse. A young child stops by who's never ridden a horse? Put her on Ruckus. Take a trail ride out where unpredictable things happen? Ride Ruckus. Reward the urchins for all their hard work on Saturday mornings? Let them get on Ruckus. With Ruckus gone, there was no one to turn to except Charlie, and by the time two or three irritating children had trotted him around the arena numerous times, he'd had enough. It was hard for me to get much out of him at that point.
So barn owner Wendy began casting about for options. There were plenty of horses in residence, but very few actual candidates: rescue Buddy has horrible issues stemming from a yearling halter that was left on too long, so he's never going to let anyone put a bridle on him. Jem has conformation issues that render him unusable as anything other than a pasture pal. Newman's too old, and Magic, too young. Wendy does have an older rescue horse that needs to be ridden regularly, but Angel tends to be shy and skittish, which, as it happens, are the two main reasons I prefer not to ride her! That just leaves Bit.
Little Bit of Beau is an EPM horse. EPM is a disease that affects the central nervous system. Symptoms can include tripping, and loss of coordination - huge problems when you're trying to show or compete on a horse! I'm told that Bit displayed those symptoms before he came to the Harmony Barn, and has been treated for it since coming to the barn. But I don't think that EPM is the reason why he'd never been considered an option for us to ride. I think the reason had more to do with his personality.
I'll be honest here and say that I spent several years not liking Bit. He was much too in-your-face for my tastes. If you stood next to him, he'd push his head against you and knock you off balance. While old Newman ruled the herd with quiet authority, his protege Bit rules with an iron hoof! Where old Newman would only have to walk into the arena for the horses to settle down, Bit feels the need to run around pinning his ears at everyone! He was way too much horse for me, so I didn't give him a second thought until Ruckus died.
I ran the idea by Wendy, asking what she thought about riding instructor Connie giving me lessons on Bit. Much to my considerable surprise, Wendy thought the idea had possibilities. The next thing I knew, Connie and I had scheduled a lesson.
Contrary to his name, there's nothing little about Bit! He's one big horse! Tall, muscular, assertive - he can be quite intimidating. I did my best to act nonchalant as I groomed him that first time, but inwardly, I was thinking about how far down the ground was going to be, should I end up getting tossed out of the saddle. I'd seen a more experienced girl ride him, and there had been a lot of prancing on his part. What chance did I have as a novice who lacked confidence? Connie tried to reassure me, but I was skeptical. For his part, Bit gave me plenty to think about during - and after - that first lesson.
For one thing, if he didn't want to do what I told him to, he'd do something else instead. The "something else" generally involved low-level shenanigans like prancing about (which, for the uninitiated, feels like the horse is about to take off at a gallop and leave you behind), and throwing in the odd buck and rear. These weren't full blown bucks and rears, but rather, just enough to emphasize his point. I lost track of how many times I frantically asked Connie, "What's he doing? What's he doing?" To her credit, Connie managed to stifle whatever chuckling she surely wanted to do. "You're o.k.," she kept saying, "he's not going to hurt you!" And in this, she turned out to be right.
In spite of my trepidation, I was intrigued enough to schedule another lesson on Bit - and another, and another! We've had four lessons together, now, and after every one, Connie expresses her belief that Bit and I are coming together as a team quite nicely. I'm inclined to agree: while he continues to throw his own brand of challenges into every lesson, we are finding ways to communicate together that tell me we're on the right track. Indeed, the most telling communication of all didn't even happen during a lesson. It happened today after we volunteers had finished mucking out stalls.
Being the Critter Lady, I take a lot of pictures at the barn. I take pictures of all the urchins with their favorite horses, and I have them take pictures of me with mine. Anyone who follows me on Facebook already knows that Bit does not stand still for pictures. Don't get me wrong, he stands still just fine - until you aim a camera at him! Then, he's all about swinging his ginormous head around, and trying to use my leg as a scratching post. But not today. Today, he stood still for a number of pictures with me, and even some with the kids, as well. When we were done, I unhooked the lead rope and told him he was free to go boss the herd around. But here's the thing: he didn't leave.
While I took pictures of Lydia and Buddy, and Michaela and Angel, there was Bit, lurking about. While I took pictures of fiance John with old Newman, there was Bit, lurking about. He stood here for a time, then moved a few feet away and stood there for a time, all the while looking over at me to see whether I had a snack for him, or possibly a command or two. The striking thing was that he was looking to me - for direction, for companionship - rather than looking at me, and this was the first time he'd done that on his own, without me on his back. It was a pretty cool moment for me when I figured that out!
There can be a world of difference between what goes on on a horse's back, and what goes on in the mud lot, when he's free to do as he pleases. When Charlie Horse is under saddle, he behaves very well. When he's in the mud lot, he'd just as soon stand off by himself and crib, rather than interact with me or the urchins. And, generally speaking, Bit's usually too busy moving the herd from one side of the poop pile to the other and back again to stop and take notice of what the volunteers are up to. Ordinarily, he would give us all a cursory glance, make sure we weren't doing anything that required his attention, and then go on about his business. To hang around with me for twenty-odd minutes of his own volition was extraordinary. It's something I won't soon forget!
There's definitely a relationship forming between Bit and I, and there's so much more to it than just getting on his back and riding. The time I spend with him on the ground is also an investment in the bond that's developing, and it's just what I've been needing, after suffering the loss of Ruckus. There will never be a replacement horse - there was, and ever will be, only one Ruckus - but as I've said before, eventually, it is necessary to move forward, to form new relationships with other critters, to let yourself love again, even though you know that one day, your heart will be broken by yet another critter death. These wonderful relationships are vital to the well-being of our souls. And, quite possibly, theirs, too.
That's all for now, folks! Thanks so much for hanging in there while I took time to grieve. Until next time, please be kind to all the critters!
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