Hellos and Good-byes

The whole purchase process went very smoothly and the pre-purchase exam went well. The only comment the vet made was that HE was “over-conditioned”, which was a polite way of saying that he needed to loose weight. I love that term; over-conditioned. That's what I am. :-)

The most stressful thing for me was the board situation. Within a two week period, the board rate increased an additional $180/month and the availability of space became an issue. I now owned a horse, but could no longer afford to take lessons if I boarded him with The Instructor....and there may or may not be space for him. STA calmed me down and said I could keep him at her place until I decided on where he was to be housed.

At STA's suggestion, I approached the owner of a local riding facility 15 minutes further than where The Instructor was located. The owner, LA, has been riding since she was a small child, she has competed, trained horses for competition and has instructed at all levels. As it turns out, I knew someone who boarded at this place and gave it a glowing recommendation. The environment at LA's facility was geared towards the horse's well-being. It was a little more rustic than I was used to, but the place was spotless and orderly. I liked seeing the horses freely walking around. I liked that she did not use barbed wire fencing. The board rates were excellent and the lesson rates were competitive. The herd was made up of quarter horses, appaloosas and paints with access to 70 acres. HE would be the only one of his breed. This was a "Western" environment; there were only 2 other boarders that rode English. Smiling, she said, "We won't hold that against you."

HE arrived at his new home the next day and as he stepped off the trailer, I could see LA's eyes widen. "He's a big one, isn't he. I think he's a little bigger than 16.0hh" "Really??" The measuring tape came out - HE came in just shy of 16.2hh. I regretted asking. LA estimated his weight around 1500 lbs. HE was anxious and it took a minute to get him settled in a stall. His routine for the next few weeks would be a few hours day of paddock time on his own and then HE would be slowly introduced to the mixed herd. HE was anxious to meet his new friends.

I went back to The Instructor and told him that I had found another place to house my boy and thanked him for all of his help. We parted on good terms.

My riding buddy, Jean, was going to take lessons with me at the new place. She asked if I would come and watch her last lesson with The Instructor. Everyone was excited to see me and hear about my boy. As I was watching Jean's lesson, I noticed a man standing at the entrance of the barn, looking a bit lost. I asked if he needed assistance. He was new and having his first lesson that night. It turned out that GM was to be his mount. I showed him where the tack was and then took him to meet GM. I gave GM a nice rub as I told him about the lessons and then slipped her halter on and put her in the cross-ties. I told him how great GM was for building confidence and how smooth her ride was and how much she taught me. Then I heard myself saying "Stop and say hi to her and then ease into it. Respect her. Don't rush her.....". When I was showing him how to tack up, GM was the perfect lady. I think she knew I wasn't coming back and it was her way of a "gift", a last memory. As he was donning his helmet, I wished him luck, I deeply breathed in GM's smell for the last time, gave her a gentle rub around her eyes and walked away.

GM and me.

Breakthrough

If I didn’t have a carrot in my hand, GM would turn away and leave me staring at her butt as I entered her stall. This gesture did not improve my confidence and, in fact, scared me. If she was eating, she would hunk over her food and not budge. My approach was to beg. Not pretty, and certainly humiliating. "Please let me cross-tie you. Here's a carrot....please!"

Putting the bridle on GM was becoming the most stressful part of my riding experience. After going through the Chicken Dance while grooming and putting the saddle on her, I could feel myself getting more and more anxious as the time approached to put on the bridle. I was terrified that those large teeth were going to connect with one of my fingers. Snap, snap! I was grateful that I was able to tack her up in her stall because I felt better about the fact that she couldn’t run off while I fumbled with the halter then the bridle. I knew what I was supposed to do and, in reality, she was pretty darn patient in this area. But, I would work myself up into such a tizzy that my fingers would not work. It didn't help matters that I couldn't actually see what I was doing - magnifying reading glasses were not part of my ensemble. I would end up poking her in the eyes or banging the bit into her teeth or try to put the bridle on backwards. The pressure was on. My classmates would be walking by GM's stall on their way to the arena. I'm late! I would eventually panic and ask for help.

Word got around about what a baby I was about the bridle and how intimidated I was by GM. One day the barn manager told me she would help me get GM ready for my lesson. We entered the stall. As GM started to turn, the barn manager quickly put her arm under GM’s jaw and softly stopped her from turning. Then she quietly started scratching GM behind her ears, slowly down her neck and withers all the way to the base of her tail. She found a sweet spot on GM’s rump. GM's body started to relax and she was totally glazed over. I think I heard her sigh!! The barn manager continued scratching her for about 10 minutes. The saddle and bridle went on without incident. I was in awe. No begging, no carrots. “You wouldn’t want someone barging into your space during dinner and throwing a saddle on you, would you? Stop and say hi and then ease into it. Don't rush her. Respect her.”

I came 20 minutes earlier than usual the next time. There was no activity in the barn, other than the munching of horses eating. I stood just inside the stall and talked to GM for a while and let her continue eating. Her ears twitched. She was listening to me natter away! She did not show me her butt. Then I started to slowly scratch her all over. No Chicken Dance. No cross-ties. No begging. No carrots.

This exercise was supposed to be for her, but I think I benefited from it more. Taking that extra 20 minutes for quiet time with GM helped me calm down after a busy day at work. I could feel the stress leaving my body, my mind started to clear. In some ways, it was almost as good as having a vodka soda - almost!! She did not attempt to bite me that evening, or any other time after that. There were still times she thought about it....but she didn't. Old habits die hard. We had reached a mutual understanding. Another lesson learned.

Not having to do the Chicken Dance or beg someone to help me with the bridle was a BIG boost to my confidence. I think GM felt the difference because she seems to be a little less grumpy with me. Unfortunately, this exercise did not eliminate her need to pin her ears back and kick if one of the other horses got too close during lesson. My vise-like thighs still came in handy!

What was I thinking…..?

GM

I found a place that would give a round, middle aged person private lessons. I was soooo excited!!! I signed up for 8 weekly lessons and went out and bought paddock boots, a helmet that made my head look like a mushroom, and breeches (looked for a tummy control version but they have not been invented yet).

I arrived early for my first session, looking very professional decked out in my new attire. My instructor introduced me to GM, the horse I would be riding. She was a soft brown colour with black mane and tail and, thankfully, very sturdy looking. GM and I checked each other out and, you know, I could tell right away that she was not fussy about having to work; it was beneath her. She demonstrated her disdain over and over again in the coming months.

First, we led GM out of her stall and put her in cross-ties. She was beautiful. My instructor showed me how to brush her. I have dogs and thought this would be a piece of cake. I placed my hand on her side and felt the strength underneath. Wow. I lightly ran my hand down her shoulder, breathing in her smell. What was that? What the heck??! She tried to bite me... several times! "Is that normal?" I asked. "Use your elbows to discourage her. She's testing you," was the response. As I did my interpretation of the Chicken Dance while brushing her, I was left wondering when the test would end. It never did.

Our relationship was a strained one. She would turn her back to me when I entered her stall, she would try to bite me when I put the saddle on her, she would struggle with me when I tried to put the bridle on her. The snapping of her teeth as I moved around her would cause me to jump. If there was food in her stall, she would become possessive (I swear I could hear her growling when I entered!!). Sometimes she would start to encroach on my space while we were in the stall until I was eventually pushed up against the wall. For someone who suffers with claustrophobia, it was not an ideal situation! The bridle always made me particularly nervous. GM had to be coaxed to take the bit and I was terrified that she was going turn carnivorous and snack on one of my fingers. Over time, I was able to incorporate the saddle and bridle into my Chicken Dance routine.

The equipment, or tack as it's called by those in the biz, was pretty basic; saddle with stirrups, girth, and bridle. You know, an English saddle is basically a little piece of leather that sits on the horse’s back and held in place by a strap. I was seriously concerned that my butt was not going to fit on this little piece of leather. Strangely, for a little piece of leather it seemed to weigh about 50 lbs. when I tried to lift it up and on to GM's back.

My instructor assured me that I would not have to try and lift my leg up to ear level to reach the stirrups; there was a mounting block. Whew! I stepped into the stirrup from the mounting block, swung my leg over (kicking GM in the process) and I was up and on her. What a thrill to finally sit on a horse! How wonderful! How exciting! Wow.....am I ever high off the ground. I didn’t realize it was so high. “How tall is this horse?” “She’s 15.0 or 15.1.” OK, breathe. It’s not that far to the ground if you fall. Fall? Am I going to fall???! Breathe!!!

My lessons were a mixture of excitement and terror. GM tolerated them, at best. I became used to her nastiness when tacking up; at least she was consistent. Because it was getting busier at the stables, I actually tacked up in her stall, which allowed me to do my Chicken Dance without the humiliation of others seeing me. She was a big draft cross and was actually a very smooth ride. She was so used to the routine of the lessons, that the instructor just had to yell the command and she obeyed. Walk on! TA-rot! Every once and a while she would give me attitude, just to remind me who was boss (she was, of course). She knew EXACTLY when 45 minutes were up and would not cooperate a minute longer other than walk for a few minutes to cool down before going back to her stall. Our relationship was quite simple. She gave me attitude, allowed me sit on her, gave me more attitude and I rewarded her bad behaviour by giving her carrots.

Something that I was not prepared for was the actual physical part of the riding experience and the reluctant awakening of muscles that I did not know existed in my body. Anyone who thinks you just sit on a horse has never really ridden. Even with GM responding to verbal commands, I still had to use my legs and "core" muscles (which were very teeny tiny) to stay on and steer. When I was on GM, I felt like my body was being pulled apart. I ached from one week to the next.

What was I thinking…??