|
|
It was all I could think about. "I want a PONY!" At
night I would squeeze my eyes tight to produce visions of galloping PONY legs
charging through my head. I was obsessed! And luck would have it, my ninth
birthday was quickly approaching.
"We have a special trip planned for you after school Kathy
-- come straight home". Mom's words rang through my ears all school day as
I impatiently watched the clock on the wall progress. And as the final bell
rang I spaung and out the door in a flash to find out about this "special
trip".
My heart pounded as our journey took us out of the
neighborhood, past the big empty fields, through the foothills, and to a sharp
left turn down a dusty dirt road. I remember peeering out the window at the
huge oak tree arms leaninng out over the road -- as though casting magic spells
through the dusty light. I was soooo excicted!
We pulled into the driveway and there stood the most beautiful
13hh palomino pony I had could ever have imagined. His head was up, his eye was
sharp, his coat was radiant and I was in love!!! Cowboy Val held the reins as I
walked up and began to pet my beautiful new Pony. He was soft, and smelled
wonderful. His face was adorable and I was absolutely giddy as I stroked his
soft nose.
I turned to examine at the western saddle perched neatly upon a
navajo blanket when I felt the pressure on the back of my leg - right below my
butt - and a sudden excruciating PINCH! Next thing I know, I'm on the ground,
flat on my face. Grunts of impact and foul cowboy language assaulted my ears as
I lifted my head to see Cowboy Val jerking my PONY's reins and producing quick
knee jabs to his middle.
PONY bit me!!! And he bit me hard. Jeans were ripped and
blood was seeping. I was devistated, betrayed, injured, embarrassed, scared.
Mom put me in the car and took me home.
Next day at school even though my leg was sore for sure, the
overriding joy of owning a pony was intense. "I got a PONY for my Birthday"
I reported to all my friends who, to my utter disbelief and dismay, quickly
turned on me with jealousy. "You don't have a PONY" they berrated. "You're
a LIAR". Well, this I could not tolerate, so I spun around on the
playground, lifed my school dress and proudly displayed my bruised and battered
flesh clearly in the form of PONY teeth.
Just as quick, a yard duty snapped me up, drug me to the
office, plopped me in front of the principal who proceeded to write me up for
indecent exposure. GEEEZ!!!!
That PONY got worse. And after several injuries Mom had enough
and instructed Cowboy Val to sell my PONY. I was confused. I had tried so hard
to master this PONY but had failed. And even though a thousand tears were
spilled, I also felt an immense waive of relief roll through - cuz that PONY
scared me.
Moral of the story -- Life is not fair and be careful what you
wish for.
Back to
Stable.com
"Buck" was a tall, cool older gentleman horse of bay
colouring. He had been a working cow horse most of his life but had ended up
rather lazy and uninterested in pleasure riding. He could be a good trail horse
at times, but had acquired the frustrating habit of grazing while walking. "Buck"
was one of those long necked quarter horses, and he was working it to his
advantage now. Once his head went down into the tall grass, it was a struggle
to get him back. But the fact was, "Buck" wasn't my horse, just a
loaner, and one day while out on a solo ride, the teenage me decided to break
him of his obnoxious habit.
"Buck" and I rode out down the trail, but there were
no temptations of grass, so, at the creek I took a left - off the trail and
through the orchard and onto the tall grass pasture above. Los Gatos is hilly
country, and the pasture I was headed for erupted into a 45 degree angle on the
other side of the orchard. So, I laid the rein on his neck and asked "Buck"
to engage the hilll. He eargerly complied as, I was sure, the grass waved him
on.
Half way up the hill I was having to jerk his curb bit every
few seconds to keep his head up and out of the grass. "Buck" wasn't
getting it and he was clearly annoyed as we reached a flat spot in the grass. I
popped off to adjust my saddle but as I slid to the ground, the brute
deliberately yanked the reins out of my hands and plunged that long neck down
into the grass. As he did so, the reins slipped down around his ears. I turned
to get a hold of them, but "Buck" immediately adjusted his footing and
came down full force right in the middle of my tennis shoe. Deliberately or
not, yeowwww!
So, now I stood, underfoot, facing his rear end on his downhill
side. And he had all his weight on that downhill front leg - smack dab on my
foot. Luckily, the ground was soft, and I could tell that there wasn't much
damage being done - but it was painful, and now I couldn't make any move at all
to get the reins. I was pinned, and he knew it. No amount of punching or
pinching was going to move him, and everytime he adjusted his weight, it hurt
more.
I really don't know how long we stood there. I think I cried a
little and tried to conjure up some help. But I had made sure I was out of
sight, and there was no help. Just me and Buck and the span of time it would
take for him to eat up the grass within reach and lift his head. As I stood
there pinned to the ground by my foot, I couldn't help but be patient and
calm.and consider the way I had frustrated and punished the horse all the way up
the hill. In hindsight, I can only hope I've made some good use of the forced
and painful little lesson that a self-proclaimed, retired working horse taught
me that day.
Back to
Stable.com
What is that racket? I offered up over my shoulder to Tracy, my
riding companion bringing up the rear on her totally
green and somewhat scar, new Arabian mare. "Don't know"
was all I could make out as we cleared a low hill. Quite suddenly, we were
confronted by what seemed to be an army of earth moving
machines the size of the Star Ship Enterprise.... ok, maybe a
shuttlecraft....
Now, we had been out on a long trail ride - widing around
the mountain next to Calero Resevoir in South San Jose Almaden
Valley. We had made it past wild pigs, meanacing logs, signs
of snakes and at least a dozen deer before we emerged from the
valley through a pass in the hills on our way back towards the
lake and Ranch.
The next thing I see is Tracy's horse doing a darned good
imitation of an African Gazelle -- erupting across the tall
grass in unbelievable 20 foot bounds. Tracy's head bobbing
helplessly in tow -- her sole purpose now to stay aboard. Just
as quick, my mare makes an "executive decision", perhaps one
of five in her entire lifetime, this time to "join up" with
Tracy's steed -- as three of the most gigantic earth movers I
have still ever seen, rumbled towards us with faces of
surprise inside.
Too late for Tracy - her horse was clearly in control as
they kareened down the meadow in a bee-line for the ranch.
Luckily, my horse had a few more miles under her belt and we
came to a controlled canter within a few yards. But I knew I
wouldn't see Tracy again until the ranch. Luckily, her horse
also wanted to live, and the two had landed safely at their
paddock. The mare was already munching grain happily from a
bucket when I rode in.
Tracy lifted her head slightly, gave a sideways glance and
muttered, guess I'll do some more arena work tomorrow... Good
idea said I...
Back to
Stable.com
|
|
I would have to say that administering shots to a horse has got to be my
least favorite equine activity. But as you horse owners must know, the need for
injections rears its ugly head now and again.
I remember one early April, Hajji had just given birth days earlier to the
precocious "Kalero Kidd" and to my dismay, both had come down with a
nasty bronchial infection. I had moved them into the "sick barn" in
an airy 12 X 12 box stall, bedded down with new pine shavings and fresh water.
But both of them were weezing and snoring with green snotty noses. It didn't
look good. And of course, the vet left a bottle of cold, milky pennicilin with
a handful of enormous needles and even bigger syringes. Great.... ten days,
morning and night.
At first, I practiced on an apple, just to get up the confidence needed to "push
on through". Then, I decided to concentrate on alternating hips, and by day
ten - they had some mighty tender loins.
I was so relieved when day ten finally arrived, and so burned out on giving
shots. And on that final injection, I could not muster the required velocity to
sink that needle into Hajji's sore and bothered hip. No, I could only muster
enough to "stick" her -- about 1/4 inch into her hide - and her back
leg came up in a cow kick faster than you can say -- well anything.
Impact was made right on my groin and the force pushed me six feet back into
the barn wall, where I slowly slumped to the shavings below embracing my pelvis
and thoroughly convinced it must be totally shattered. But as I recovered my
overall senses, I realized, I wasn't really hurt. I stood up and looked down
and saw evidence of an impact, but no bruising and no soreness. Apparently,
Hajji had "pushed" me across the barn, and not kicked me across the
barn. Big difference. I could hardly even discipline her for it. It was such
an instinctual pain reaction to the painfully adminstered shot. Back to the
apple I guess....
Back to
Stable.com |
|
Stable.com
Blog Posting
"Listen Up"
by Kathy Rogers
"Mom - I think he wants to sit down!" Now, this just did not
compute as I continued the training session on my skittish,
new-to-the-saddle Arab mare. "Sit down? Horses don't sit down"
I pondered briefly as my hands again tried to gather the
inexperienced, overly sensitive animal who was basically just
hurtling around the enormous western arena in a totally
sporadic manner.
|
 |
|
9-year old Cora-Lee was on her first trip aboard Sonny, an
extremely strong, welsh/arab grey gelding we had just
purchased. Sonny was fat, out of shape, furry like a polar
bear, and not nearly as "kid-friendly" as his seller had
promised - but he had been awesome when I rode him and I had
readily plopped down the $300 sales price with visions of
family trail rides in my head.
But it was back to reality as my athletic, strong, fearless
daughter was clearly getting nervous with her mount, whom she
had been somewhat successfully keeping on the rail of the big
arena.
"Horses don't sit down" I again explained as my mount and I
careened past her - but I got back a shrill scream and turned
just in time to watch Sonny go down!
I could not believe my eyes as that boar of a horse went
down and started rolling on my daughter. Her leg was pinned,
she was screaming, and not only was he ignoring her
completely, he was attempting a full "roll-over"!
In a dash I was landing feet first next to his head,
grabbed his hackamore, and gave a mighty jerk to get him up
and off her -- but he didn't budge. Instead, he looked at me,
rolled his eye, and went back down for another rub in the
dirt.
Now, I'm not a violent person, but some how, at that
moment, my hand left my body, curled into a fist, and produced
a strong upper cut right into his soft nose -- and he was up
and off her in one swift movemennt.
"Mom, I told you he was going to sit down! Why don't you
ever listen to meeeeeeeeeeeee" cried my daughter. But my
attention quickly turned from her tear-stained, dusty little
face to my now throbbing hand where a huge, soft tissue "bump"
- you know kinda like Popeye's head after meeting a frying
pan, was now growing tall from my little finger knuckle where
it had grazed Sonny's Hackamore.
"I don't know why I didn't listen.... but I will next time"
-- and I did.
Back to
Stable.com |
|
"Don't
let
down your guard..."
by Kathy Rogers
It was a brisk autum day and there had already been a couple of
good rains resulting in a number of large, standing mud puddles scattered about
the property. It was the mid-90s and I was boarding my mother/son arabs, Hajji
and Kalero, at Bear Creek Stables in Los Gatos. The stables was located on an
old Catholic Noviciate property and a boarding school. It had awesome trails
that wound through the redwoods, with open pastures for a good canter, but steep
inclines for some very good conditioning. There were large ponds, and shrines
to the saints where monks had erected verandas and gardens long forgotten. It
was fun to explore on horseback and I everytime I rode, had a hard time choosing
which horse. |
 |
|
Hajji was so well trained as a pleasure trail horse. She would
pretty much go anywhere and do anything, but always with a high step and aware
eye. Kalero on the other hand was young and forever green. He was much more of
a "serious" ride, and I was in the mood for some pleasure. So, I
grabbed Hajji's halter off the hook and headed to the pasture.
When I found her, deep in her very large forest pasture, she seemed annoyed
at my appearance, but eventually approached and dropped her nose into the
halter. I had already decided that I would ride bareback and halter back to the
stable, so I tied up the lead line to the other side of her halter, and jumped
aboard. It's always a blast to ride bareback and as II hopped off at the
pasture gate, I decided "what the heck", let's just ride with this
halter, it works great. And it did -- down and around the Bear Creek Trail we
had a most excellent outing.
But, as we came back up the road toward the stable, a freind shouted out a
hello from the wash rack. I turned, twisting my entire body around to chat
while Hajji proceeded towards the stable, and her grain reward. What I didn't
know, was that she was fast approaching a very large mud puddle in the middle of
this gravel road -- and she didn't see it either - until she was right on top of
it. Now, Hajji is a great little horse, but she does not like to get her feet
wet if she doesn't have to, and the sudden appearance of the mud puddle gave her
no apparent choice other than leaping high into the air. Unfortunately, I was
still confidently, securely, twisted around, with one hand on her rump. As she
reared up and lept into the air, I slid sideways,and under her, not in the air.
I remember looking at my hands for some reason as I fell, and thinking, don't
injure your hands. But when I hit the gravel driveway, flat on my back, I went
right to thinking, Ouchhhhhhhh!
I looked up to see Hajji's back legs thankfully clearing my head, landing on
the other side. Now, I see her upside down as she stops, spins, head down, legs
splayed, staring at me, there, lying in the puddle. I'm not sure who was more
shocked - but I know who was more injured. Don't ever let your guard down...
|
It's that time of year again, and the snow is now falling
in the Sierras - ski season is on! I'm hoping this year will
be as good as last year, one of the best ski seasons on
record. But not every year has good rain/snow fall. I remember
a very dry Christmas, 1990 I think. The ski runs were dry that
year, but it was perfect horseback riding weather, and my 9 yr
old daughter and myself were out on a ride around the mountain
- about 8 miles through oak forest and pastures. The trails in
Quick Silver Park were hard and cracked - the grass was dry
and the usual carpet of mid-December green was nowhere to be
found.
Cora-Lee was riding her trusty mount, Sonny. A middle aged
Welsh/Arab grey gelding - with lotsa tricks up his sleeves but
more more than a little respect for his rider. I was aboard
Hajji, a young Arabian Mare - the color of apricots and sweet
like one too. We had been out for about 45 minutes, mostly
trotting, but mixing in a little canter here and there. Sonny
looked like a furry polar bear, while Hajji had been blanketed
since late November, and had a slick, shiny coat. Both horses
were a bit winded as we pulled up for a breather at the top of
one of the many inclines that wound around the low mountain
overlooking Quadalupe Resevoir.
As we cracked open our Granola Bars, a very faint jing jing
jing came into ear shot. Both horses looked up quickly toward
the sound and then looked at eachother - using eachothers
reactions to guage the scarriness factor. Nobody moved as the
noise came louder, now causing the young mare to react with a
spin and a attempt at a hasty exit. I gathered her up quickly
and brought her back to face the "music", but now Sonny was
dashing past me, brushing my leg against my daughter's and
nearly unseating me. But Cora-lee was able to pull him around,
and now we had two petrified horses, ears strained forward,
eyes wide, reins tight, as the jing jing jing became JING JING
JING !!!
I thought my mare was going to jump out of her skin when
the old jogger appeared. He was wearing jingle bells and
running shorts, and was making the biggest jingle jangle
racket I've ever heard. It took to about a count of two before
the horses recognized the source as human and probably not
dangerous - and I was very pleased that both mounts kept their
heads until that count of two passed -- even though I don't
think anyone took a breath. But now I was more than slightly
annoyed at the old jogger, who was clearly out on a shared
running/horseback riding trail, wearing such noisy apparatus.
I was just about to voice my opinion, when his face exploded
into a huge smile and he exclaimed his Merry Christmas. I was
suddenly overcome with a flood of good cheer. As he passed, my
daughter and I shouted our Merry Christmas back to him, and
then the old jogger, Jing Jing Jing, dissapeared around the
corner.
"It's beginning to look alot like Christmas" I offered up
to my daughter with renewed optimism as we proceeded up the
trail. I was rewarded with a big smile, bright eyes, and a
certain amount of newly earned confidence.
Back to
Stable.com
It was a long ride to Lexington Resevoir from Kennedy Road. Of course we
could have taken the "Over the Hill" route, but that entailed an
elevation climb of about 1,200 feet - and it was a hot day. So, the group of us
started down Kennedy Road in the pre-dawn darkness headed for the "swimming
hole" the long way.
There were four of is - Mary and Stardust - Nancy and Katey, Barbie and
Badger and me and Slim. All four horses were well mannered, well socialized
mounts and we walked and trotted all the way through town to the fire trail
leading to Lexington Resevoir. Once on the trail, the pace picked up and by the
time we reached the resevoir, us four caballeros were hot and tired -- ready for
a dip!
The horses marched right into the water, as though they understood it was
the end destination. We stripped off our shoes and socks - tosshing them to the
bank, and began playing and splashing eachother in the water. Eventually, a
group of beach goers began to gather, as the little kids enjoyed watching the
horses paw and splash with their noses.
Slim really liked the water, and he was completely content to stand neck
deep, as I playfuly stood up and began to plot a swan dive from his back. But
just as I lifted off his back, he took a step toward my entry spot, which
happened to be a drop off from an underwater shelf. As I plunged into the
water, I suddenly realized that Slim was now above me, swimming, and his feet
were knocking into my head and shoulders as he thrashed in the water.
All I could do was hold my breath and try to remain calm, with my hands
clasped behind my head I tried to protect myself and get out of the way of his
hooves. I drew upon a childhood pastime of holding my breath and swimming as
far as possible in the backyard pool. It got really scary, but before my time
was up, I cleared his feet and popped to the surface.
As I regained my breath, I turned to the beach, and there stood a group of
gap mouthed people, just wondering what to do.
I often wondered if anyone would have ever eventually come in after me. I
think not.
BLOG Archive
Back to
Stable.com
|
