Walk Softly and Carry an Orange Stick, Part II
Ahh... well IMHO, Buddy Jewell has already won Nashville Star, but it's up to you, America, to vote him in. This is your last chance, so VOTE BUDDY JEWELL FOR NASHVILLE STAR.

There. Now I may step off my soapbox.

Back to the round pen... Nic had me lead Cheerios into the round pen and take off his halter. I did so and left the pen. The object of the day was to let Cheerios think about what he can do that will cause the predator in the center to be calm and relaxed and take the pressure off of him. It was purely about proving to him that he can get through scary things and survive, and to help him work through his fears. It looked like Circling at Liberty, but Circling was not the object.

She put the halter back on him and played the Friendly Game with him without the stick. She rubbed him all over until he was calm and accepting. Then she asked him with an extremely soft Phase One to back up a step. She did this until she found out where his level of tolerance was by experimenting with the level of Phase until he snorted off. She allowed him to run around until he felt comfortable and she remained neutral in the center. Eventually he slowed down and turned to face her and then walked up to her. She allowed him to do so then quietly asked him to back up a step or two until he was just out of carrot stick range. Then she dropped her energy and waited.

The object was to allow him dwell time to think about it. If he took a step toward her, she'd immediately yet still softly but with clarity ask him to back up to the imaginary line. This was repeated until he began to understand that as long as he stood quietly behind that line, the predator (Nicole) was calm and relaxed and he didn't have to do anything; but when he crossed it, she brought up enough energy and pressure to make him slightly uncomfortable (but not afraid) and asked him to do something (back up). He caught on very quickly.

Next, she sent him off in a circle, akin to the Circling Game. But she wasn't asking for two perfect laps at a trot; she didn't care about the gait, maintaining the gait, or number of laps. She wanted him to move his feet when she asked. Of course, being a nervous nelly, he shot off at a full snorting bucking gallop and raced with hard-boiled-egg eyes around the pen the moment she lifted the c.s. in the air. She didn't even have to touch his personal space with it, just lift it and he was off. But she followed through on Lead It, Lift It, Swing It, Touch It so he would have to make peace with the sight and sound of the stick. Oh, he was panicked. He raced around and around then finally screeched to a halt and whirled to look at her. She smiled and waited. He stood there, panting, nostrils flaring.

She calmly walked out to him and gave him a rub, then walked backwards to the center, inviting him to follow and come into the center. He did. He stopped dead on the boundary line. She let him have some dwell time. She told me to always go out TO him for praise, don't let him come into me. He must always ASK for permission to come into me. And if he asks and the answer is "no", and he says "OK but I'm coming in anyway", say NO and MEAN IT. Not in a scary mean way, just with polite firmness so he knows w/o a doubt that No Means No. Consequence, not Phases.

This process went on for quite a while. He began to see a pattern of being sent out left, then right, and would stop, wait, then turn and bolt in the other direction. She let him go until he started bolting with less energy and was more relaxed with the idea of the cs as a directional tool. He eventually figured out that he was not going to get whipped or beaten or killed for making a mistake, and relaxed considerably. I'd say it took a good hour or so. Maybe it just seemed that long.

Once she started connecting with his mind, you could see the wheels turning. She began to ask him to circle then to stop by disengaging. The first time, he wasn't sure what to do and whirled around and headed in the other direction. Nicole ran toward him flogging the ground loudly with a very strong Phase 4 directed toward Zone 2 until he turned a 180 and bolted in the other direction, and she countered with the same move in the opposite direction, then tried to disengage again. I think they went back and forth a handful of times. He pivoted to face her and started to do what he always would do with me, head in toward her at a fast pace. She jogged toward him while gently but firmly driving him back with the stick and he stopped and backed up to the Safe Point. (Note that the stick is pointed downward and the driving is done near the ground.) She immediately went neutral. He thought about that for awhile and began licking his lips.

She went to him and played Friendly and let him dwell, then invited him back in. He took about three steps in then turned and bolted. She drove toward Zone 4 for a disengagement. He whirled to a 180, then checked himself, slammed to a stop, spun to face her (almost tripping over himself in the process) and stood there. I could see the wheels spinning rapidly in his mind. Nicole remained neutral. He was thinking hard. Again she walked out to him and was Friendly.

This is the bulk of the day with him. She continued with the Circling and Disengaging until he was Sending fairly calmly, maintaining the gait, not bolting, dropped his head, and appeared relaxed. He began to disengage properly. He learned that it was ok just to stand still. When she finally got two good calm laps and a nice disengagement, she stopped and invited him into her. She spent a very long time rubbing him and being Friendly. She eventually softly laid the stick on his back and rubbed him with it then let it lay there.

Then I took him back to the pasture. That almost became a nightmare. I don't know why, but while he was perfectly calm with Nicole, he shifted to a perked up attitude the minute I took over. All of a sudden he was jumpy and vibrating. By that I mean I could feel/sense the shift in his energy patterns because when he is afraid his energy pattern seems to vibrate, almost quiver and the sensation goes straight to my solar plexus no matter how hard I try to avoid it. It's not my own butterflies I feel, it's his. His feel different than mine. His quiver. Mine roll. So I practiced deep centered breathing in hopes that he'd pick up on my energy. Of course, I'm still not the Alpha horse in our relationship, so he wasn't sure he could trust that.

When we got through the mare's gate into the lane, I tried very hard not to flash on a previous incident where he reared up out of fear of God knows what and struck my arm with his hoof at that very same place, under similar circumstances, then flew down the lane with the lead line flying behind him. I allowed him to graze a moment. Then he stepped on the lead rope. I very very gently asked him to back up a step. He ignored me. I kept asking, increasing the energy so carefully I could barely notice it. He kept ignoring me.

Then suddenly he jerked his head up and lifted his front feet off the ground a couple inches. I guess I must've found the point where he listens! But I did not back up. I did not cower in fear. I relaxed and laughed and said "Oh, come on, Cheerios, don't be silly, did you scare yourself?" and turned and led him to the gelding's gate as if nothing happened. Inside, I was a little high on the adrenalin rush, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it would have been last year. It surprised me, not pleasantly, but I was not the nervous wreck I used to be. He went in the gate. I started to untie his halter and he made an eyeball at me and pulled his nose up like he was preparing to bolt away the moment I untied it. So I stopped. I repositioned myself to be standing by his withers. I asked him to tip his nose into me, which he did, and his expression changed to "Oh, man, you mean I can't get away with that anymore?" and I calmly took off the halter and asked him to wait until I released him. Surprisingly, he waited. I gave him a couple rubs, then walked away. He paused for a moment then sauntered off.

On the way back through the barn I said hello to my poor forgotten Wildflower, who came up to say hello several times and could not for the life of her understand why I wasn't coming to collect her. Well, that's tomorrow. I figure after Friday, she deserves a day off for good behavior.

I know that I'm not ready to play with Cheerios quite yet, and I'm savvy enough to admit it. Now if I can just convince certain other people, like my Dad, that keeping him is a good idea even if I'm not riding him yet. It's very important that I "win" the Games with him someday and overcome MY fears. Besides, he's too good of a horse to just dump. I realized what a diamond in the rough I have on my hands; he is a different class of horse than the bulk of his herdmates. Most of the horses out there are perfectly nice horses—however, they are comprised mostly of horses who didn't quite live up to their breeding potential (as a performer or show horse), or who are past their performance prime and retired from the ring, or they are older or mixed breeds. Cheerios is papered. He was supposed to be a loud, flashy well-bred Paint Stud, but his genetics didn't get the memo and he came out Solid. Apparently that doesn't sell semen, so he was gelded and taught to chase cows.

He is extremely athletic. Watching him today, I realized just how promising he is. He is fast, strong, graceful, and a beautiful horse to look at standing still or in motion. He really "shows". He is undeniably very intelligent and very very energetic. Plus he's affectionate and friendly. He moves like a cutting or reining horse. The rest of the horses out there don't move like that. They move, yes, but not lightning fast, 360 pivots, stops on a dime switch direction quicker than you can think about it. He has fire inside of him. If I can learn to harness and properly direct his energy, we will be able to do things most of the people at my barn only dream of. I was completely in awe of him. He needs to compete, I think. He needs me to be able to keep up with him!

So my job is to get there. I'm working on it. He is much more horse than most people realize. These girls that think they can ride, who look at him and see how cute he is and see only this calm friendly dude who wants petting and cookies, who think he'd make a fun trail riding horse, they have no idea the sort of engine that's underneath that hood. It's like the difference between a Porsche and a Yugo. They don't have any idea how to handle him. I'm not sure I do, either, but if I think I want to A) train horses B) be a PNH instructor or C) seriously get into cutting or reining, then I have no choice but to LEARN how to handle him.

At best, I'll get there and be the horsewoman he needs me to be. At worst, I'll learn my limitations. Either way, having owned Cheerios will have improved my horsemanship tenthousandfold. After all, if it weren't for the challenges he's provided me, I'd never have had a reason to search for the answers I've found in Parelli Natural Horse•Man•Ship.

Walk Softly and Carry an Orange Stick, Part I
This may be a two-parter b/c Nashville Star is on in twenty and I am not missing a minute of it.

Well. After staying up til almost 4 am last night blogging myself up to date, rising before 10 just wasn't an option. Besides, it's Saturday! I woke up around 11:30 and hoped that someone had the foresight to put WF out despite my affirmative response to Karen last night when she asked if I wanted her left in. (Someone did, so WF got out around 12:30.) I rolled into the barn around 2:00. The lot was full! I actually had to park on the grass. Everyone and their brother was there and a couple people trailered in their friends. Very busy day.

Nicole was playing with Makona in the round pen. Julie was playing with Doc in the neighboring barn's corral (no mares). Beth and Erika were waiting for Rita and Nora to return from riding Beth and Erika's horses (Benny and Ransom). Nic's daughter Sara was playing with Weapon (Bruce M's horse). Bruce was out. Karen was out. All kinds of people. So I figured I'd have a long wait for the pen. Didn't matter. Yesterday went so well I didn't feel the need to worry today.

So today was more like a Barn Social for me. I talked horses with Beth and Erika until Rita and Nora arrived back safely. Nora is looking for a horse to part-lease. I went and got Cheerios for her to meet. Because so much was going on, I just didn't feel right saddling him up for a try-out so she just got to be around him for a while. She'll have to come out during the week when it's less crowded so it's more safe. I talked with her for quite awhile to garner her level of savvy. Hmm. She might have some jumping lessons under her belt, but honestly, judging just by her stories, and these were recent events, she may not be the kind of rider for him. (A lot of people think they know how to ride, or know horses, but don't know that they really don't. "You don't know what you don't know—but horses know what you don't know."

I'll have to wait and observe how she handles him in hand and under saddle before I can make that determination. Talking to her, I have my doubts. But I'll keep an open mind until then. She hasn't even said for sure she wants to do it.

After they all left, I took Cheerios with me to watch Nic play with Weapon. It was a good experience for both of us. Weapon has a "you and what army" attitude about moving his feet; he is very stubborn, aggressive, and has been known to strike out and rear when he doesn't want to do something. Bruce M, his owner, wears spurs to ride in b/c he didn't think he could get Weapon to walk on unless he had them on and used them. Bruce also "lets Weapon decide where he wants to go and how fast". So Bruce doesn't really ask much of Weapon and Weapon walks all over him. Bruce had a lesson earlier this week on how to ride bareback w/o spurs and how to ask your horse politely to go and stop and it's had a positive effect on his riding. However, he's still got that male pride thing going and isn't ready to own up to what he doesn't know.

Anyway, the whole point to that is to highlight Weapon's attitude. Nic had to use a very strong Phase 4 to get a response from Weapon. That meant the carrot stick was slicing through the air with a very audible aggressive whipping sound—the exact thing that makes Cheerios' eyes bug out and makes him lose it. So it was quite a test to be standing inside the barn, peering over the gate, calmly stroking Cheerios' neck and acting as if the sound meant nothing and breathing deeply to counteract that awful vibrating butterfly feeling I get in my solar plexus when his nerves kick in. It's so tangible you can almost touch his fear. I allowed him to drift backwards but kept stroking him. He did ok, he didn't try to bolt or run me over, but he wasn't happy about it.

So Nic finished up with Weapon and asked if I was gonna play with Cheerios. I said "Actually, I was hoping YOU might want to." She happily agreed.

Nashville Star is about to begin so I will continue this later.

04.24.03
Nicole stepped in to help me out with some of my games today and it really improved us. I felt like I was at a plateau. We were getting somewhere, but not really anywhere in particular, and I felt stalled. So when Nic showed me where my deficiencies were in my games, for once I appreciated her "butting in". Basically, I was not really meaning it when I asked for something. I had just enough ambiguity that WF would hesitate in her response b/c she was trying to figure out what I meant. Luckily for me, her confusion is expressed as "uh... you want me to... uh... oh, wait, maybe it's THIS you want? It is? Oh, good, ok." Cheerios' is more like "WHAT?! WHAT!! I don't underSTAND!!!! waddayawantmeto DOOOOOOOO???!?!?!?!! OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGod she's gonna KILL me if I screw up OhGodOhGod--" and meanwhile I'm terrified thinking he's gonna kill ME. It's a cycle.

So she reminded me to be a bit more direct and serious. Horses want us to be certain. They hate uncertainty. They'd rather have us say NO!!! that is not what I wanted and get it over with than to hear "well... I think maybe you could go over there... if ya wanna..." It's still hard to touch my horse with the stick very hard. Especially around the eyes—I'm always afraid I'm going to poke an eye out or something. I realize that horses are very very brutal with each other and they seem to survive, but still. It's a psychological thing. And I know from past experience that if you touch them once with a good Phase 4, you probably won't ever have to go to Phase 4 again. She's always following me around after we're finished, so I can't be doing any harm.

The concept of a consequence vs. the phases was brought to my attention as well. WF was starting to do what Cheerios does (but very much less aggressively), which is to come too close to my personal space to try to control how well I can use the stick or any other requests. I hesitate to do anything about it b/c the way Cheerios reacted when I did that is in the back of my mind (he freaks, he rushes towards me, he snorts, eyes wide open nostrils flaring). My reaction has been to Porcupine her back with her nose a few steps and yo-yo her in phases. Well, that's not sending a strong enough signal to BACK UP and not come into my space. Now I know what to do. Send a strong wave down the line, snapped like you're throwing a frisbee. Real quick, then drop the energy. I tried it and she backed off and after a couple of those she stopped at a polite distance and only came into me when I asked.

Nic had me work on direct vs. indirect rein and indirect rein vs. lateral flexion. Big BFOs for me. (BFO = Blinding Flash of the Obvious) I'm still not completely sure, but I'm getting better. My legs were so sore from the previous day that I could hardly ride her bareback. Ouch. Nic also gave me pointers on my FQ driving and on the Sideways Game.

Now for a non-PNH sidenote. I ran into an old friend at the barn today.

It's feeding time, and all the horses (42 of them) had been brought in. I'd let WF go eat and stopped by to say hello to Cheerios, then went to finish a conversation with Nicole about the clinics. Then I came back through the barn. Imagine it: a huge old-fashioned red wooden barn, with four rows of stalls—two aisles, one down each side, a tack room in the center, above which is the hay loft. I'm coming down WF's aisle to say bye-bye before heading for home. Now, about a week ago, a couple new horses arrived whom I'd only seen from a distance. Both geldings, they looked like Arabs. One afternoon I'd watched the interplay between them and the other horses. Well, I'm walking through the barn and I stopped short at the stalls where the new guys were and backed up and did a double-take, then looked at the name on the stall card.

I recognized one of them.

I almost fell over. It was Spock! I couldn't believe it. When I'd first got the riding bug three years ago, I'd found a stable across the border in Michigan to ride at and after a few weeks of nose-to-tail, decided to take lessons. I may have mentioned this in an earlier post. The stable housed three types of horses: the trail string, boarders, and a few belonging to a horse rescue that was operating out of the barn. Some of the boarders would allow their horses to be used for lessons or trail rides in exchange for lower board fees. It was a grab bag as to which horse would be the lesson horse, but most of the time I'd been with Dublin (yes, ironically, the horse belonging to my current barn's manager Erin).

I'd been taking lessons for awhile and one day Dublin wasn't available so my instructor debated before picking out this bay horse with a dorsal stripe whose ears had splits in them. He'd been sold at auction with tags in both ears, which nasty horses ripped out, leaving splits in his ears when they healed. So he'd been named Spock. Spock had a reputation for being very particular in who he liked. If he liked you, he liked you. If he didn't... best stay away from him. I did not know that when I saddled him up for my lesson. I liked him right off and felt sorry for his ears.

It was an interesting lesson—he wasn't about to listen to me and gave me a run for my money, whirling and stuff but I was laughing. I thought it was fun! I stuck it out and told the instructor I wanted to ride him again. She gave me the wierdest look. And from that point on, I fell in love with Spock and every time I went up for a lesson or to trail ride, I'd stop and pet him and feed him goodies. The instructor was surprised b/c he actually LIKED me. I thought he had personality and spunk. So when I decided I was gonna buy my own horse... I inquired. Spock was one of the rescues. He'd had it pretty bad. I forget the story now b/c it's been almost four years but it wasn't pretty and he had some emotional problems b/c of it. Well, that just made me more sympathetic.

So I asked about adopting him (you pay a fee and board and after a year you can keep him if the adoption is approved). The rescue lady told me, "you don't want that horse". Apparently everytime he went to a home, he was sent right back b/c he was so uncooperative with the new owners. I recognized elements of my dearly departed cat Vincent in that, b/c Vince also was sent back from several potential adopters b/c he arrived and wouldn't stop growling. They thought Vince was a mean cat. He wasn't. He was just scared. And untrusting. And he growled for a couple weeks with me, too, but I just let him growl it out of his system.

Then one night, I grabbed him at his food dish and held him down despite his protests and talked to him in a soothing voice and petted and petted and petted and petted him until he finally gave in, relaxed and the growl turned to a purr. He eventually fell asleep in my arms. I'd proven to him I could be trusted and bonded with him and he was my best friend for the rest of his life, until he died of cancer six days after our ten-year anniversary. I was betting Spock's story was similar. Most people just don't know how to gain a traumatized horse's trust. They think if they can dominate him, he'll listen and calm down. Not if he's been traumatized, he won't. A traumatized horse needs the opposite of domination.

I pestered and pestered the lady. I really wanted Spock. Weeks went by, and I was also pestering my Dad to come see him, help me adopt him, but neither side was budging. So I made an impassioned plea to the stable owner to talk to the rescue on my behalf. It was agony. I was trying to convince my Dad to let me have him, and telling the owner that I was certain I just about had the financing, and everyone was in limbo. The stable owner got tired of my stalling and wanted my decision by the next day. Dad wasn't sure about him. Then he finally caved.

But I never got the chance to adopt Spock. The next morning, when I called the barn to tell them that it was a go, I could finally have Spock, I learned that the rescue lady and the barn owner had had a big blow out the night before, and the rescue horses were leaving. All the rescue horses were being redistributed to new foster homes immediately—including Spock. Because the ties between the stable and the rescue were severed, all pending agreements between them were dissolved. I was devastated. NO!!! They're taking Spock away!!! I'll never see him again! I jumped into my car and raced up to Michigan, hoping to stop them from taking Spock away, to beg them to let me be the last person at that stable to adopt a rescue. He had been so close to being mine! But as I turned the corner, I passed a trailer full of horses. Spock!!! my mind cried out. I knew he was in there already. And I was right. They hustled him out of there first so I wouldn't be able to get my hands on him. The only horses left were the rescuer's personal horses. I was so utterly devastated. And noone knew where he'd gone. Or they weren't interested in telling me.

Not long afterwards, I stopped riding up there b/c the weather got bad (winter came) and then I discovered the team roping barn and took lessons there for a while then found Cheerios and moved out to my current barn. Ironically, a few months after I arrived, the horse rescue people moved in! But Spock wasn't with them. My old lesson horse Dublin was and still is, a big quarter-draft cross mare owned by the girl who is now managing the barn (she used to help with the rescue but a few months later, she had a falling out with the other girl). They said he was doing fine with the girl who adopted him. It was a small consolation but at least I knew he was safe. But I missed him. Eventually I got all caught up in my drama with Cheerios and memories of Spock drifted away. Then the rescue lady ran into some financial trouble (it was just too draining to care for all the horses dropped on her doorstep using her own money) and the rescue eventually dissolved. Horses left yet again.

So when I saw those ears today, and realized my Spockie had come home, I nearly fainted from joy. I rubbed him all over and I don't know if he remembered me, but he was calm about it, seemed to enjoy it. I was standing by his stall, absentmindedly scratching his cheek and one of the boarders (sometimes some help with turnout and feeding) was very surprised and made the comment about how he either likes you or hates you. Poor Spock! His reputation preceded him! I said he was an old friend. And I watched the quizzical expressions of four people who were uneasy around him who were perplexed that I was so happy to see him and that he was letting me scritch him. (In fact, the other horse that came in with him was also from that barn, Mocha, but I didn't have much experience with him.) I guess I must've bonded with Spock long ago. Hell, I didn't know he was supposed to hate me!

Apparently he and Mocha might be up for sale again. I guess it's the same old story. Either he isn't working out for her, or her finances are in jeopardy like everybody else in the world. They were moved to our barn b/c our barn is relatively cheap compared to the other barns (we are not a show barn, we don't have an indoor arena) to see if she can manage to hang onto them.

Gawd, if I could win the lottery. I'd buy Spock in a heartbeat. Probably Mocha too b/c they are bonded tightly. (Yeah, four horses to put through the Levels, just what I need! One good stable one, one with an attitude problem, one who's nutso, and one that's just an Arab. j/k) Well, at least I get to see him again. I hope they stick around for a while. I'll try hard not to get attached again but he's so cute in such a funny way, poor thing.

Funny how the high points of my days involve horses. And the low points involve men—or jobs.

04.25.03
So now we are up to speed. Two years in the life of me as a horseowner. The years before weren't nearly as interesting b/c all the horses were "safe" horses. Well, there was the Nugget incident back in high school I'll have to recall sometime, and the Arab at the trail string barn that ran off with me over the manure pile...

But back to the present. Today was a very good horse day. I headed out around 2:00. It was a little chillier than it looked like it should be; I actually had to wear my fleece shirt buttoned clear up under my heavy barn coat. My barn coat used to be a casual outerwear coat. It's kind of cool—it has a windbreaker part made of khaki fabric (that new stuff that the rain just rolls off of) and an inner part that really warm. The inner part zips into the outer part, and it's reversible. So you have four options. The whole thing, plaid cotton interior. The whole thing, plain green fleece interior. The outer part only for warm breezy days; the inner part only (either side, so I guess that's five options) as its own jacket. I wore it to the barn a few times and got horse-slobbered and that pretty much sealed its fate.

ANyway... WF was very much into following me today. I walked into the arena where the poor mares are still stuck until the pasture grass grows, and was carrying my tack over to the round pen. She saw me. I smiled and said hello to her. I deposited my tack (hung the saddle and blanket on the fence) and turned and Oh! There she is, right beside me. I rubbed her and said I wasn't quite ready and walked back into the barn. She didn't know what to make of that. Came back out with more stuff. Right there, following me. I opened the gate, and she walked right in. Another horse named LaDeDa tried to follow her (she always seems like she really wants to be included, too) but I gently turned her away.

The whole session was very good. I was out there for FIVE hours. Half of it on the ground, half mounted. My mission was to Mean It today. One time I accidentally meant it a little too much on Zone 4 (her butt) and she jerked back, let out the beginning of a squeal and bucked her hind end up. Oops! Had to really rub her to make up for that mistake. She forgave me. Ironically, she started disengaging much better after that. I worked on Driving the FQ (still a bit iffy but there's improvement), yo-yoing with determination, circling and changing gaits (MUCH improved especially on the Send and maintaining until I say stop), and even got some Sideways out of her. I was excited. I'm still working on asking her to go over there and put her butt over that way, but it's starting to fall into place. I can see the beginning of it. I can also see how far we've come: from standing in the center of the pen to moving around in it effectively. Oh yeah, we did the Squeeze Game too. That's a no-brainer for her b/c all it is is half the circling game between me and the pen with a quick disengagement of the HQ to change direction. She's really good at that. And we picked up all four feet from one side very nicely.

Riding portion: POLITELY saddling from the Indian side (do I need to change my rigging? Pat has his rigged like everyone else does, he just puts the saddle on from the opposite side); practice mounting from both sides, bouncing 3x with my foot in the stirrup before standing up, bellybutton pointing towards the horse's head (NOT toward the saddle), wait, ask for permission to mount, then swing the leg over and politely descend into the saddle (way harder than it sounds); hurry up and wait; direct vs. indirect rein; indirect rein vs. lateral flexion; and "patience, my dear, I won't let you miss dinner". We work on that last one a lot. No matter how early I hit the barn, I'm always there for feeding time. It went VERY well. Even going into the barn was good. She was anxious to eat, but she waited for me to ask her to enter the gate, and willingly let me lead her past her hay- and grain-filled stall to the cross-tie area by the tack room so I could untack her; then she politely went into her stall and disengaged her HQ w/o my asking much, and though one eye was on her food, she contained herself politely and tipped her nose to me when I took her halter off. I asked her to wait just a moment before I released her.

She still pulls away a little quicker than I'd like, but she is improving. She's beginning to realize I won't let her starve, I won't torture her, and if she waits until I give the signal, I give the signal faster and she gets to her food a lot faster than if she yanks away from me. If she does that, she's found out that I'll just pull her away from her food, put the halter back on and do it again, as many times as it takes until she waits for my signal. Oh, the frustration! It's just easier to do as the human asks the first time.

Karen was in charge of feeding tonight b/c Erin is on a long weekend camping trip she looks forward to every year (with her horse). I helped out since it was only the two of us. While Karen was finishing up putting the feed in, I groomed Echo's head. Poor Echo. She always has her ears back so everyone thinks she's mean. But she's not. Well, she is to certain non-savvy individuals... but not to me. She's figured me out. I'm ok in her book. Her hair is still long—like it hasn't shed out. I'm concerned that it's Cushing's Disease; I got my shedding blade and curry comb out. Her forehead (and Redbird's too) was just icky, fuzzy with unshed hair and greasy and dandruffy. Red wanted to rub so bad on my arm that I let her b/c she's miserable. So I took to Echo with the shedding blade. She was a bit wary at first but I approached and retreated slowly, letting her sniff it, and touched her neck gently a couple times until she realized not to jerk away. Then I gave it a stroke. And another. Echo's eyes went from the usual coldness to brief surprise, then they softened and half-closed. That is the first time in two years I have ever seen Echo with a soft eye. She leaned into the blade and I worked out some of her hairs. She seemed to be mentally thanking me for scratching that nasty itchy forehead of hers and loosening up some of the hair. Poor thing. I'd love to get ahold of her and give her a good grooming. I don't think her owners come out much.

Do I have a soft spot or what?

We let the mares in, then we let the boys in. Cheerios came right to me; Spock and Mocha had to be walked in b/c they didn't know the routine yet and everyone was scared to go into a stall with both of them (they go into one stall together to eat, they are joined at the hip), except me. So I offered to walk them in. Oh, there was a minor situation when two other horses came trotting down the aisle before I had them in their stalls, and I know now that my mistake was. I had a lead rope around Spock's neck. I went to put him in first. Mocha followed. Oops. While I was trying to get Mocha to come out, Spock came out and started going the other way. So do I go after Spock, or keep Mocha from eating Spock's food? Then the other horses came in, and everyone was headed my way. Then Mocha got out of Spock's stall. Oh, geez. Impending disaster. Four geldings with attitudes, two freaky ones and two who know the drill, in an aisleway with me with nowhere to go.

You don't have health insurance yet, my mind says.

Don't remind me of that right now, I reprimand my subconscious.

Well, it all ended well with everyone safely in their stalls w/o snorts or incidents, but what I should have done was lead Spock as I was doing; send Mocha into his stall and shut the door while keeping hold of Spock, THEN lead Spock into his stall. OK, so I learned something. After everyone was in and happily crunching, I bid my farewells to my horses. Wildflower got a handful of her carrot treats. Cheerios got a few apple treats. I kept one for Spock. He happily accepted it and nodded his head as he chewed. I'm so glad he's here. I wonder why, after all this time, he has reappeared in my life?

It is 3:34 am. I cannot believe I'm still up typing. This was supposed to be a quick notation in my PNH (b)log, but turned into more. I started at 1 am. Man, I'm pooped!

From Log, 04.01.03
It finally warmed up, so I've been spending the majority of my afternoons with my horse(s). The bond between me and Wildflower is developing beautifully, and she's picking up the Games really well. We've had a couple of great rides; hoping today I'll get another one. As for Cheerios, well, I thought I had finally found a leaser for him but the girl's parents' financial situation suddenly changed so we dropped it. Too bad, cuz she was perfect for him. She already had her own horse, a 2-year-old colt she's training, and needed something to ride for the next year or so. She's a great rider, has done eventing and jumping and had nerves of steel plus patience.

So I took another stab at showing Cheerios the Games and although it started out fine, by the time we got to our previous stopping point (Circling), it had disintegrated again. He still scares me when he blows up; not AS badly, but it's still there and I don't think it's gonna go away easily. So I suppose he'll be finding a new home for real very soon. The interesting thing is that after a few months away from them, then working with Wildflower, it's very apparent that they are two different animals and that I like WF much better. Cheerios just isn't a very nice horse! Cute, yes, and he loves me, but he has absolutely no respect for me and nothing I can do can convince him otherwise. (Kind of like the men I tend to date.)

04.03.03
I had an awesome ride yesterday but was concerned WF might cop a 'tude today because I was sort of rude with her. I basically marched out to the pasture, dragged her reluctantly into the barn, hurried up and saddled her with only a perfunctory dusting off of shavings and dirt with my hand (no time to brush, my buddies were already saddled and mounted when I arrived unexpectedly at the barn and they said come with us) and hopped on. Her whole attitude that ride said "I feel so... used... not even a CARROT or a brushing harrumph". She even gave a little buck when we cantered (and for the first time ever, it didn't even phase me).

She did her best to challenged my authority quite a bit by turning around every now and then, but I maintained my calm patient firmness and had fun anyway. I basically ignored her attempts at challenging me, made light of them, and just politely put her back in the direction I wanted her to go in. So I was expecting her to turn her butt to me and run off today.

I was fully prepared to play the Catch Me game with her, but she surprised me. She came right up to me! I must've done something right to earn her respect. My jaw was dropping all over the place today because I didn't even put the halter on her, she followed me right up to the round pen and went in the gate when I pointed. (This Parelli stuff is working!!!) I probably spoiled her dinner by filling her up afterwards with carrot treats.

Something must be changing in me, because even Cheerios acted differently today. I watched the geldings for awhile—about half the male herd, maybe 12 horses or so, were having a race. They were galloping furiously from one end of the pasture to the other, bucking and kicking, snorting and farting. It was unbelievable. Back and forth several times. I was standing right by the fence and they were whizzing past me no more than two feet away; the ground was shaking from the thundering hooves, and they'd eyeball me as they passed. After they finished, and were standing around recovering, I noticed Cheerios had a hoofprint on his shoulder—someone had kicked him a good one! So I called him over to the fence and he came right up. Then this big ol' seal brown gelding shoved himself in front of Cheerios to hog my attention, and gave Cheerios the Look (My. Space. Leave. Now.) and my poor baby slunk off, looking pitifully at me. So I did the Driving Game with the seal horse.

I stood straight up, flicked my fingers at his face. He flinched. I flicked harder (increasing the pressure in phases). He looked like he was considering moving... so I kept going until I was flapping my arms at him and stomped the ground a couple times and then imitated a horse's snort warning. The horse's eyes got big and he decided he'd best leave. Once he turned, I dropped my energy to passive and beckoned to Cheerios. Cheerios looked so surprised. He blinked a couple times then walked toward me, looked at the seal horse a couple times, saw the other horse had clearly deferred to me, and came to me with a complete submissive posture ("You are my master, O Mighty One, You have scared away the Bully and I am your dutiful servant."). He behaved perfectly when I haltered him and brought him in to have a look at his wound (superficial). His respect for me went up a notch and all I had to do was show my dominance (or leadership) over the one that dominates him. Is that all it takes?

***********
Somewhere in here during the month of April (I got a little sidetracked), I spent a good part of every day playing with WF (we're talking three or four hours a day), gradually improving her games and having breakthroughs everywhere. I got her to go Sideways for about three steps—trouble is, I don't know if she was paying attention b/c she was very busy munching grass. The mares aren't allowed in their pasture for a month while the grass grows up, so they are stuck in the dirt arena and bored and grassless. So any stray blade is attacked by a horse.

I got into Bruce's L1 Holy Toledo clinic next week, and in Carol's L2 providing I pass 90% of my L1 before then (shouldn't be a problem, I hope). If we can get a truck, Nicole will cart us to Cleveland the 23rd of May for the Advancing to Harmony and my assessment.

04.23.03
Went to the barn today. Dad wanted to see my horse and see what I've been doing with her. I was a little nervous, performing for him. He doesn't really understand what some of the games are supposed to accomplish (yo-yo, for one) but he thinks I'm doing really well with her. I played Games 1-5 with her and she did the most beautiful circling game. I started to get her to figure out that rub means stop. She was getting better at that too. Then I saddled her Indian side (Dad didn't get that one at all). OK, I was a doofus at first. Couldn't figure out where the lead rope went, (arm closest to horse when facing horse, at beginning rope is behind me) had trouble hugging the saddle (very heavy). Mounting got better, but I mounted from the Cowboy side only (I'll work on both sides when I don't have an impatient audience). I have to switch my rigging to Indian side I guess. Or do I?

I know I have a LOT of work to do with my direct and indirect reins b/c she does lateral flexion really well but does lateral flexion when I ask for indirect rein. Not sure what I'm doing wrong, but that'll be fixed in the clinic. That's WHY I'm going. I changed to the natural hackamore and left the round pen. It was a test, b/c all the mares were milling around but she listened pretty well considering it was near feeding time. We did figure 8s at a trot, and then I cantered her and bent to a stop. Whoooo! First time w/o a bit and bridle. Yay! There was one point where she was cantering and didn't listen to my direct rein request, and came perilously close to running into the round pen. I had a moment of "OH CRAP" then remembered horses know not to run into it and relaxed. Good thing. She kind of slammed to a stop, avoided the pen with a sharp turn and changed direction (U-turn). I stuck it out. Unphased. Gettin' better...

Also gettin' better at fluidity riding. I'm tired now b/c I was workin' my legs with her trot, and moving my arms with her canter. But I'm beginning to get the gist of how it works and melting into the horse. Of course, I'm trotting naturally and my dad calls out Sit Up Straight...

So there were some new things and some breakthroughs and I'm happy overall. Plus Dad decided he's supportive of my career plans. He asked over dinner if the program would be eligible for student loans for when I go to the ISC in a year or two. I don't know... gotta find out. Gotta find out how to support it. Good news all around.

From Log, 02.23.03
Spring IS planning to arrive this year, isn't it?

I finally got out to visit my poor neglected horses—twice in a week! First for a since-postponed farrier appointment (they didn't need it yet, we were early) during a 3-degree wind chill (that was fun) then this past week when it was gloriously 40. They appreciated it. Cheerios remembered me right off; Wildflower, my new horse, wasn't sure at first, but I spent a good hour with her the second time in the pen getting reacquainted.

03.03.03
I went on my first ride in months with Nicole. It was 45-degrees and sunny. Nicole rode Makona with the halter/lead rope/bareback/carrot stick combination. I stuck with standard Western tack on Wildflower. It was wonderful! It was a pleasant ride, my first in snow. Mostly we walked, did a tiny bit of jogging. Had a few minor spook incidents and one major one that nearly unseated me (we crossed paths with a lady who was x-country skiing with her wolf-dog and I'm not sure which freaked Wildflower more, the skis or the dog) but for the grace of God and better riding skills. It almost replicated what Cheerios did the year I sprained my back—but this time, I stayed put, went with the horse, and recovered well. That Bruce Logan PNH clinic I went to last fall really changed my riding mindset and that proved it. It's a good thing because it was like coming full circle and I think I'm over my fears now. For the most part, anyway.

03.15.03
Bad Mare Day. (Well, that's what it says in my journal!)

03.16.03
It was gorgeous today. I still can't believe I was riding the trails in short sleeves. SHORT SLEEVES! OK, there were a couple shady spots where I found myself wishing I'd grabbed a jacket, but it wasn't shivery. The park right now is basically mucky woods with ice rinks (trails) running through them. The horses didn't wear their blades; it can make for an eventful ride when they negotiate whether that's solid slidey ice, crack through it ice, slushy ice or not gonna go through it gonna jump it watery ice. (We hit all four today.) No major spooks, but Wildflower was grumbling under her breath the entire time. We went out with Erin on Dublin and Kathleen on Matazer. They are a fun bunch to ride with.

04.17.03
All right. I have to be more disciplined in keeping track of my hours and efforts with Level One. Today, I took a work day because rain was predicted. Nothing much came of it but I had four clients to satisfy so I stayed home and designed. Let me see if I can back up...

Cheerios was trained for one purpose: to cut cattle. I tracked down his breeder in Arkansas and he told me that he breeds Paints for color; Cheerios came out solid so he was trained for cattle and sold. Apparently his full brother is a loud flashy show horse. Anyway, Cheerios was taught stand still while you're saddled, stand still until the cow breaks, then run full speed after the cow and screech to a stop when it's been caught. He never learned to transition into a trot or between gaits, or how to longe properly or how to come down out of a canter to a nice trot. The result has been that he doesn't know how to slow down from a canter, and has gotten frustrated and bucked when asked to move from canter to trot. His canter is like flying on air; his trot is like a jackhammer BUT I've gotten him into a nice smooth trot by accident a couple of times so I know it's possible. I'm still learning all the riding techniques so I don't understand how to ask for a transition.

He knows the first three Games. We got stuck on the driving game because of the carrot stick. I'm not the most agressive person, so he has no reason to fear me; but when he sees the stick, he panics and flies off into a full gallop around the pen. All I have to do is raise it a little off the ground and his eyes bug out and he snorts off, even if I'm at the other end of the arena. A few of these incidences and I realized I needed help. Higher-up help than my fellow PNH enthusiasts at the barn could give me. So I went to the Parelli site and started searching for an instructor in my area who might be able to help. That's how I found Bruce Logan.

Bruce handles the Young and Difficult Horses and is as of this writing a 3-star endorsed instructor and a Level 4 graduate. He was doing a clinic near Cleveland in early October 2002. I figured I would email him for advice, and see if I could get into the clinic. Although I was hindered by the lack of horse transportation. Bruce emailed me back with a few suggestions but said it would help if he could see it in person.

Because his fear of the carrot stick (mainly the sound it makes) is so strong, Bruce agreed with my feeling that it might not be a good idea to put Cheerios in a ring with a dozen horses and snapping carrot sticks until he's more relaxed about it. Well, it didn't matter anyway, because I didn't have a truck or trailer, and I found out there was a 12-person waiting list for a Level 1 rider spot. So I gave up on that idea and decided it was time to start horse-shopping.

The fun thing about shopping for horses is that the information is presented in the best light but sometimes you'll get there and realize the horse is a nut. Look at Cheerios—he's a good horse, he has a wonderful personality and lots of it, and he's affectionate and loves to be petted, groomed, and socialized with. And he is absolutely beautiful in the summer after a bath and a good brushing—he shimmers like copper and he has "presence". But he can be a pain under saddle. He bucked me off while on a trail ride during a trot the first year I had him and I was laid up for half the summer with a sprained back and a sudden overwhelming fear of horses that I eventually overcame thanks to an understanding patient friend with an ancient mare. He also is highly intelligent, so you have to be one step ahead of his thoughts.

Cheerios and I had to rebuild our bond from the ground up because we were both afraid of each other after my accident. My friend with the mare temporarily traded me horses and tried working with him to settle him down and teach him transitions and he decided to try bucking her off, too. I've had him examined by the vet (nothing physically wrong) and had a full massage treatment for him, looked at his saddles, tried all kinds of equipment (prior to discovering PNH) and now we're into PNH.

We had just gotten back to where I could trail ride him again, and in January 2002 we went out for a short ride and he bucked all the way home from Harry Hughes Equestrian Center. It is a credit to my riding ability that I was able to stay on. However, I have continued to play as many games as possible with him and just hang out with him so he doesn't go wild. I'm just not confident enough to get back on him yet, and I'm very careful about who I will put on him at this point. If an old cowboy or cowgirl or someone who's experienced with young horses comes out to look at him, I'll let them mount up but I don't feel comfortable letting a 4H-er or novice (other than myself) take a chance. He probably wouldn't do anything bad, but it's my liability if he does. He's not a dangerous horse, and he's not mean—just green and headstrong and too young to be conscientious of taking advantage of someone who isn't experienced.

So. That's him. He needs someone who would be gentle, patient and firm who has prior experience with a strong-minded youngster and the desire and knowledge to do what it takes to develop him into a great horse. I know he has the potential; I just don't know if I have what it takes to bring it out in him but because of my love for him (and, I suppose, my pride), I keep trying.

09.02
Been horse-shopping. I dunno if I'd be worse off keeping Cheerios or buying a new horse, judging by what I'm finding.

I've had one wild experience already. I answered an ad for a "lovely Appaloosa mare" who was the right age, had kids ride her, the whole bit. Drove clear out in the boonies to see this wonderful specimen. She was a nice-looking leopard appy. The 12-year-old daughter saddled her up. I was watching her and I got the feeling the kid wasn't completely comfortable doing it. She seemed a bit nervous. So I requested that someone else ride her first so I could observe how she moved. The horse moved fine, but the kid had this barely-contained look of panic on her face and was visibly relieved to dismount.

I thought, well, I don't know... but then if a little girl can handle her, I'm bigger and stronger so I have that going for me so I mounted up. Boy-OH! She took off like a shot, and I decided right then that I was NOT cantering her—it was all I could do to keep her in a trot! We went around the paddock twice. The first time around was brisk but steady. The second time around, when we passed the cornfield, the wind picked up and the corn rustled and the horse sidestepped about 10 feet and tensed up her back. I thought my god, she's gonna buck me off or something, so I aimed her away from the cornfield, whoa'd her to a stop in front of the owners, dismounted, handed them the reins, said "thank you very much" and walked off.

Methinks they did exaggerate her qualities a bit in the ad.

I just don't believe it was a wise thing for them to knowingly put a stranger on a questionable horse. Everyone says they can ride; but only those of us who've had to deal with "real" horses (not the zombies they have at trail riding outfits) know that there is a difference between riding a horse and riding a horse. It's just scary to me that so many people unknowingly take their lives in their hands when buying horses, and that sellers can and will in good conscience allow it to happen! Have you ever heard any buyer's nightmares where it ended tragically? I haven't yet, but I'm sure it's happened. It sure isn't like buying a car.

09.23.02 I found the perfect horse! (and it's all detailed in the previous POST! Excuse me for being a bit out of order in the history...)

10.09.02 Gettin' Savvy!
Nicole and I attended a PNH Level 1 & 2 clinic in Cleveland with our horses. In two days of intense training, I learned all the Seven Games plus riding techniques. I've made remarkable progress. My confidence is built up and my savvy is better. I'm more confident and in control of my horse and know better how to ask for what I want. The instructor was Bruce Logan, a Level 4 rider and Endorsed 3-star PNH instructor, a cowboy who grew up on a cutting horse ranch who knows how to deal with difficult horses (which is why Nicole took her bolter with her). He was riding a 2-year-old stallion who was better behaved than most old plugs. Amazing.

Nicole's been working on Levels 1 & 2 for almost two years now; the only things holding her back from passing her Level 1 assessment were her inability to laterally bend her horse to a stop from a canter (he always went into panic mode and ran off with her) and holding the trot in a figure 8. Well, this guy discovered the problem was that Makona was escaping even at a walk by not standing still. He taught her how to correct it at the walk, trot and canter and how to hold the gait, and she passed Level 1.

I've had a couple of inquiries about leasing Cheerios, but no buyers yet. Oddly enough, we're getting along better now. Maybe it's because the pressure's off of me with him for sale. Oh, well! I'd love to keep him if I can because when I get to Level 3, I'll need a difficult horse to work with, so pray that either my web design biz takes off, I get a killer job, or I win the lottery.

10.25.02
The PNH clinic was very informative—I learned more about horses in two days than I thought possible. Of course I was there for six days; watched the advanced clinics and lessons to see what I have to look forward to. Wildflower and I are off to a great start. Cheerios is a pasture puff. So far, nobody's responded to my horse for sale ads although a couple of young girls are interested in leasing him. I don't think he's right for them, either. Not gonna be responsible for killing a teenager. He needs an assertive man or a very manly woman to ride him.

10.29.02
Wildflower is an awesome horse. My niece's reaction was that she's a bit like their former horse, Chessie. She has a similar attitude: "Oh. You wouldn't be trying to get me to move, would you? Well, you're going to have to ask me the right way. Until then I'll just stand here. Nope, that's not it. Nope, not that either. THERE. *sigh* Now you've got it."

10.30.02
I attended my first Success With Horses Tour in Battle Creek. Nic & Julie went up together and I went on my own. For some reason, since I became really serious about PNH, my friendships with certain people have become strained. Some seem to view me as "competition" (which I don't understand, because PNH is all about improving your SELF, not who's better at communicating with their horse or gets their red string faster); others view me as completely insane, pursuing such a gimmicky "training" method. So it's almost as if I'm being ostracized by both the people IN my group as well as my former group. Personally, I don't see why we all can't be friends and just share knowledge.

I still can't get over all of the amazing feats the Savvy Team were performing with their horses. I know that most of us probably won't ever get to that level, but to see it, and to imagine the possibilities, it's just awe-inspiring. Some of it brings tears to my eyes. I wish my Dad could have seen it; I'll have to take him with me some time.

Wildflower and I are getting along beautifully. We're doing pretty good with the first six games. Our sideways needs lots of work. But in time, it'll get there. We went on our second trail ride last weekend to see the fall colors and it was wonderful. I just wish the fall colors weren't the precursor to frigid winter weather. Now that I have Wildflower, I'm ready to ride.

It took me a couple of days to decompress following two full weekends (and then some) of Parelli Natural Horsemanship!

***** BREAK FOR HORRID WINTER THAT LASTED THREE DREARY MONTHS *****

09.23.02 I found the perfect horse!
But I didn't realize it right away.

The first time I went out to look at the horse, it was raining. It had been raining all day and was quite dreary. By the time I arrived at their residence, conveniently located only a couple of country blocks from my boarding barn, it had tapered off to a light drizzle. The man met me at the house and we walked out to the pasture.

He pointed out the three soggy horses standing in the muck. Hmm. Nothing remarkable about any of them. One was a brown appy with a nice butt blanket; there was a young sorrel filly who reminded me of Cheerios, and a bedraggled-looking bay mare. He collected the bay mare and brought her through the barn and gave her a brushing. The poor thing looked miserable, she was so muddy and soggy. I guess I would be too if I'd been caught in a downpour.

He saddled her up for me and I took her for a spin. Well, I thought, she may not win the beauty pageant but she sure handles nicely. She responded politely to my cues and within a few minutes I felt comfortable enough to canter her. Even her trot was graceful. Nice personality. Not real outgoing or flamboyant like Cheerios, but a nice solid friendly horse.

The next day, I took my Dad out to look at her and give me his horseman's opinion. Again it was a soggy day. Again I was faced with a bedraggled non-descript horse. Dad approved of her right away, though—said she's a nice little horse. (His first opinion of Cheerios was that he had a big head.) I was beginning to resign myself to the idea of having a nice but not necessarily attractive horse. Brains before beauty.

In the meantime, I'd found out that Nicole had snagged a rider's position in Bruce's Level Two clinic. She said I should at least go and audit it, maybe even take Cheerios over for a private session and she'd trailer him if I wanted to. I politely declined taking Cheerios because the private session was pretty pricey for an unemployed person who had never seen a PNH event live before but decided to go and watch. Maybe. Nic had several privates lined up so it would mean going for six days and I wasn't sure I wanted to hang around a whole week and watch. I was on the waiting list for Bruce's Level One even though I knew it was a lost cause, but it was now only about 10 days away and I had given up hope long ago.

My Dad and I discussed it, and decided Wildflower would be a good horse for me and set a price with the man. A couple of days later, I set up a vet check. I asked Nicole to come along and play with Wildflower afterwards and assess her mindset for me. She agreed to come along. Finally, the sun was shining. I was not prepared for what I saw.

In the pasture was this gorgeous bay mare with a flowing black mane and tail. All the mud was gone, she was all dry and shiny. She was beautiful! I was aghast. Here I thought I was getting a solid yet plain-looking dependable mount and well, it was like the Ugly Duckling story. I had no idea she was such a pretty horse until that day. There is a lesson to be learned from that about face value and quality over looks...

She passed the vet check with flying colors and she proved herself to be smart, willing, and cooperative. Very tolerant. Nicole even mounted her bareback and rode her around on a casual lead line, then dismounted by sliding off her butt. Wildflower took it all in stride and that's when I knew without a doubt that this was the horse for me.

Nicole trailered her home for me after we closed the deal a few days later. The first night was tough because Wildflower whinnied all night. She was looking for her herd. I couldn't sleep because I felt so bad for her and worried about her jumping the fence and heading for home. But she didn't. She'd calmed down by the next day and I set about getting to know her. We went on a trail ride immediately and she further proved her value when she slowed down instead of speeding up when I got scared.

10.01.02
Excerpt from the mass email I sent all my friends after buying Wildflower:

No photos just yet, but I wanted to tell all of you about my new arrival! She's 10 years old, stands 15 hands, bay with the map of Texas and a white blaze on her face. Some of you may have realized I'm talking about a horse. We brought her home to the barn yesterday.

That's right, the proof of equine addiction is evident with the purchase of my second horse, Wildflower. I've been looking for a nice trail horse for some time; she fits the bill perfectly. Cheerios is available for full lease if you know the right person for him (email me for details). Unfortunately, finances may not permit me to keep him which is why he's also listed as being for sale--but I'd hate to give him up. (Send me a miracle!)

We'll be hitting the trails in a week or two, after the initial adjustment period, so to my fellow riders, see you at the barn!

The very next day after bringing her home, Nicole called me all excited and said a Level One position had just opened up and if I wanted it, it was mine and she'd trailer my horses for me. I was floored. Of course I jumped on it.

So a couple days after bringing home my new horse, I loaded her into a trailer and headed for six days in Cleveland. Only two of the days were my clinic but I figured I could hang out with her and get to know her while Nic did her private sessions and clinic. Poor Wildflower! Moves once, then moves again!

Why I bought Wildflower: after thinking it through, I'd realized that Cheerios won't help me meet my immediate goals as a horseman. (I'm always horse-shopping just in case I come across the right one.) My immediate goals are to be able to trail ride safely and to pass my PNH Level 1 assessment so I can begin working on Level 2. My ultimate goal is to complete Level 3 and possibly move onto Instructor training.

But Cheerios is deathly afraid of the carrot stick, which limits what I'm capable of doing with him at this stage because I don't know enough to counteract his reactions and get past it. The carrot stick was designed by Pat Parelli and it's similar in appearance to a longe whip BUT it is not stiff like that—it's made of fiberglass so although the string part makes a convincingly whip-like sound, the stick part has enough give that a good whap on the horse's body is annoying but NOT painful or damaging. It's way less than what another horse could inflict—or an angry human with a much firmer longe whip or crop. It gets the point across if need be without severely traumatizing the horse whereas being whipped with a stiff lunge whip WILL. And in Cheerios' case, probably that's already happened.

Until I can get him to trust me and my toys, which at Level 1 with a difficult horse is kind of hard to know how to do, we can't progress past the first three of the Seven Games so I'm nowhere near riding him. An easier horse was a necessity.

I found her. Then the world of PNH miraculously opened up to me and all the pieces started falling into place. One day I had a Level Three horse with issues; no horse transportation; and no rider spots in the clinic. The next day, I had a perfect Level One beginning horse, a friend offering me a ride, and a rider spot in a Level One clinic. Like magic.

I can only believe that it's preordained Fate that led me to Wildflower—and PNH. Why? Well, let's examine the facts.

Fact #1: the first person I met at the barn when I brought Cheerios home was Nicole, who brought PNH to the barn.

Fact #2: within an hour of bringing home Cheerios, I was inside watching a PNH video. I mean the ink on the check wasn't even dry before I was introduced to PNH.

Fact #3: The day my PNH Level One kit arrived on my doorstep was the day I got laid off—giving me plenty of time to work on horsemanship.

Fact #4: If I had bought a horse like Wildflower first time out, I'd never have needed "help", and would never have sought out the answers that I've found in PNH—so Cheerios' issues are a blessing in a way.

Not only have I found a great way to communicate with my horses and improve my riding abilities, but I've also found my future. This is my calling. Everytime I have a PNH event, something happens to make the universal energies shift to accomodate my needs. I'm signing up for a Level Two clinic in August. I know I'll be ready. I'll be Official Level One before then. And I know I'll have a ride for Wildflower to the Advancing to Harmony clinic next month in Cleveland, even though the truck Nic usually uses to pull her gooseneck slant-load is unavailable that weekend. It'll all just fall into place. In fact, I might even be the proud owner of my own rig by then.

It's Fate. I can feel it.

The Adventure Begins
First thing I did was look at all the pieces. I had two things that looked similar, like halters only made of rope. I'd had four color choices—red, black, blue or green. I picked green because Cheerios is basically an orange horse. Blue and red would clash with his coloring, and black, well... too stark. He and I both look good in green. So I sat there looking at these two green halters... ok, one has ropes already tied to it. Oh. That must the the Hackamore. So the other one's the halter. OK.

And this nice fat rope with the leather snake tongue on one end—oh, I see, it's called a "popper"—that's the lead line. Kay, gotcha. Then what's this skinny... oh. That must be the Savvy String. Goes on the whip—er, Carrot Stick—like... this... ok. All set up. Got me a video... popped it in and watched as much as I could before my brain just shut off and screamed "IT'S TOO MUCH!!! I'LL NEVER FIGURE THIS OUT!!!" What else is in here? The book, already have a copy from the bookstore, wonder if they'll let me trade it in? A booklet... a cassette tape (now, how'm I gonna play THAT in my car?)... and these itty bitty manuals that fit in your back pocket.

Let's start reading these...

So the first pocket guide basically went over use of the equipment. Learning the proper way to tie the knot on the halter, what the four phases are, the Schweigermutter look... My neighbors must've thought me crazy, out front with my carrot stick (hereafter abbrevieated c.s.), practicing gently hooking it around the porch posts without whapping it, twirling it above my head, aiming for a mark until I could nail it dead on three times in a row. Then playing around with the lead rope,with my front porch acting as "horse". I couldn't wait to try it out on Cheerios.

Cheerios, however, was not impressed. It took several tries to remember how to hook up the halter and it was either too tight or too loose. I'm supposed to do this without his being restrained in any other way meaning no cross-ties! I'm thinking, the moment between my dropping the cross-ties and putting on this rope thing, he'll be out the barn door headed for parts unknown. I built up some pretty strong arm muscles those first few days from holding back my 1,000-pound horse with one arm while trying to slip a halter over his head with the other. Eventually I figured it out. Needless to say I realize my error was in not being assertive enough with my horse in the beginning to teach him that standing still was his best option. No, I let him walk all over me. But I had some minor victories.

Let's see... from my log book, I have 05.08.02 down as my observing Nicole trying the games on him before I got my stuff. "First experience with method—picked up quickly. Panicked during Circling Game—cantered and bucked, exhibits fear of making mistakes. Reaction: run, turn butt, rear and buck." 05.30.02, Participant (had my stuff by then). "Friendly, Yo-Yo, Driving. Panic response practically gone; very relaxed. On 5th try, yo-yo, he came to me with hardly any asking. Followed me on his own. Stayed with me after removing halter. Still need work on Porcupine—was trying to bite at the 'fly' on him (me). Complete join-up." On 05.31.02, I watched the video, and "Great yo-yo forward—still not sure on backing. Confused re: driving (I think I mean circling)—thinks he needs to hide his butt when I try to drive him forward. Oh, well, I need more work. Porcupine—got it. Friendly—no scary areas! Gave a foot w/o problem. He loves me!"

The log is blank for June because I'd foolishly registered for a college summer course in Experimental Animation and Audio Design for six weeks thinking it would be a nice, casual entertainment and a good way to use my vacation times from work. That was before being laid off. The course started the Monday after I got laid off and it turned out to be the month I didn't sleep. I spent 20 hours a day in the lab frantically trying to figure out how to do everything to meet the requirements and barely made it out alive. I remember the last day I went onto campus to return the video equipment. This is the university at which my father taught for 30 years. It was a fixture in my life. I'd been taking classes there off and on since 1981 (acquiring my BFA in Graphic Design in 1995) and it just seemed like I'd always take a class now and then for the rest of my life. But on that particular day, it felt different. I came out of the library after dropping off the camera. Then I just stopped for a moment. I looked around at all the buildings, buildings so familiar to me that they were like home. Buildings that I'd looked longingly at when I was a child, dreaming of the day I'd finally gain entry into those hallowed halls and unlock the mysteries of life they held within. The sorority houses and dorms that I had thought I'd be living in (when I rushed my freshman year, I soon found out I wasn't cut out for an "organized social life" and bailed; one semester in a dorm and I decided commuting wasn't so bad); the library; the art building... old friends. I listened to the sound of a quiet summer campus and I realized it felt like it was the last time I'd ever be standing here. Like I was bidding it farewell.

Maybe I was. Maybe it was finally time to move on. Maybe the time for preparation was over, and the time for implementing the knowledge was upon me. I was a little sad and wistful that day. Whether I was saying goodbye, resolving never to take another college course as long as I lived, or whether it was the combination of sheer relief of being freed from that hellish class and the overwhelming exhaustion... eh, maybe it was all of it.

But now I was free to concentrate on my horse. 07.10.02—"hadn't been out due to class!!! Started in stall, see steno notes—I need to go over yo-yo, driving, and new games." The log book PNH provides with the kit is a cute idea, but there isn't enough room for an overly-effusive commentator such as myself to jot down my notes. So I dedicated a steno pad to the details. The rest of that day's entry covers the front and back of one steno sheet. The gist of it is that Cheerios nickered at me for the first time; tied the halter right the first time; worked out some dredlocks in his mane in his stall and used porcupine to keep him from leaning on the stall guard as I worked; began to be able to anticipate when he was about to pull something like knock me with his head before he did it and use a block to gently keep him out of my space; used my knowledge to move other horses out of our way in the arena; he comes to me w/o being on the lead line but won't yo-yo back yet; picks up his feet willingly; confusing driving with circling (me) because I'm being lax in reading my books; has an aversion to having my hand on his nose; got him to trot beside me at liberty and stop when I stopped and he stood stock still after I removed the halter.

Then it began disintegrating. I finally figured out that I was missing the Driving game completely, and mistaking it for Circling. The first time I put the c.s. up alongside his neck to drive him from Zone 2 away from me, he about had a heart attack. Mind you, I was being very gentle!!! I am by nature not very aggressive, more timid, and my miniscule action should not have caused him to flare his nostrils, bug out his eyes, and flail his head away from me like he did. I tried a couple of times to ease him into it, but he became agitated. So I gave up (wrong thing to do, I now know) and tried the Circling Game. This shows what a novice I was. Why I'd try to move on to Step 5 when Step 4 wasn't working, I dunno. For some reason I thought it'd be ok. It wasn't. I yo-yo'd him backwards. LIFT: I lifted the c.s.—Cheerios' head went up, eyes full of suspicion. LEAD: I raised the lead line and pointed in the direction I wanted him to go. SWING: I gently swiveled the c.s. toward Zone 2. Didn't even have to go to Touch it because he shot off like he'd been in a cannon, all the way to the end of the lead line, nearly dislocating my arm in the process, and tore around the round pen bucking and snorting at a full gallop. I think I gasped. I thought, Oh Dear God, what have I done?!? I hope he doesn't kill me!!!

He kept going and I got scared because I'd never longed a horse before, let alone experienced one going off like that. My reaction was to run toward him saying WHOA, WHOA, EEEEAAAASSSYYYYY. Sounds logical, right? If it was a scared kid, that's what you'd do: run to them, grab them, and comfort them until they calmed down. Took me months to figure out that that's the WRONG thing to do with a horse. I did not realize that by moving toward him, looking intensely at him, was in fact putting pressure on him and telling him in horse language that he needs to move away and keep moving FASTER!!! Which confused me, because he ran away from me, and I went after him with more determination that mommy was going to make it ok. When he reared up, I backed away quickly. Immediately, he slowed down a bit. So I just stood still and said "Eeeeeasy, easy". Eventually he slowed down and stopped. THEN, I didn't understand it. NOW, I do. NOW, I know that the right reaction on my part when he snorted off would have been to ignore him. Let him snort off. Let him run around a couple times, then disengage his hindquarters. He probably wouldn't have disengaged right away, and it might have taken a crack on his butt to get the point across, but had I taken that approach, rubbed him, then sent him out again, chances are in a few times he'd figure out all I wanted was for him to walk in a circle and he'd be ok. And he'd understand when I say disengage your butt, I mean NOW, thank you.

But I screwed up. And I kept repeating the same mistake, and he learned that he could scare me into letting him off the hook, and that running away from me makes me run after him but running INTO me makes me back off the pressure (because I'm afraid he'll run me down). He also learned that I think he's afraid of the c.s., and takes advantage of that. So we hit a plateau, and I became very frustrated, and very scared again, because he was running TO me with wild eyes and flaring nostrils and I couldn't figure out how to get him out of my space quickly enough or how to communicate to stay over there and because he was quicker than I was, going Phase 1, 2, 3, then 4 was taking too long and he'd already be on top of me, which was dangerous. So I'd finally resort in panic and frustration to giving him a good Phase 4 on the chest when he came into me fast. He'd back off, but he'd sense my fear and HE would get scared and rear or snort off. It became a terrible cycle.

In desperation, I went to the PNH site for an answer. Maybe an instructor could help. I'd already asked for advice from Nicole, the only other PNH enthusiast in our barn except for Julie (and since Julie deferred to Nicole, I thought Nicole was upper level already but she was studying Level 1 like the rest of us, she'd just been at it longer) and Nicole took a stab at it and had a bit of success in getting him to circle, but her confidence level was higher than mine and she wasn't as afraid of his reactions. Still… I didn't find anything we discussed was really solving the problem. So I examined the list of instructors and found that one was having a clinic in Ohio in a month or so. Not only that, but Bruce Logan also handles the Difficult Horses. Well, I've certainly got a difficult horse, I thought, so I emailed him and described my problem.

Bruce advised that if his fear really was that great, then a clinic might not be the best place for him yet. He gave me a couple of suggestions but said it would be better for both of us if he could work with us in person. Trouble was, I had no trailer to haul him in, no job, and there weren't any openings in Level One anyway—there was a waiting list of 12 ahead of me. I said to go ahead and put me on the list anyway, knowing full well I'd never get in. After that, I tried the suggestions Bruce had given me, had Cheerios blow up a couple more times, got too frustrated, and just gave up on ever getting anywhere with Cheerios. I'd hit a dead end.

My parents had been urging me to sell him and buy another horse ever since the last January ride. But he was my baby! My first horse! The thought of abandoning him like that was unthinkable. It reduced me to tears just considering it. After one particularly bad episode with Cheerios, I burst into tears and just sobbed all over his neck. I was distraught. I told him everything; that I might have to sell him, that I couldn't stand it, that he needed to work with me not against me... he lowered his head and leaned into me. I was dying inside. I couldn't bear the thought of giving him up, nor could I bear the thought of mounting him again.

But it was apparent I wasn't getting anywhere with Cheerios and that a different horse might be the solution. So I started horse-shopping. I answered every possible ad and went to ride their wonderful, kid-safe trail horses. Ha, haha, ha ha. Truth in advertising? Not when it comes to equines. I drove way out to the boonies to look at a leopard appaloosa mare. Right age, kid-safe, right price. A mare! And an appy! I saw visions of spotted babies prancing around in the pasture. Then I watched the kid saddle her up. Tentatively. As if she was shaking in her boots scared. So I said how about YOU ride her around first so I can see how she moves. I wasn't watching the horse as much as I was watching the kid. She was terrified. She bravely put the horse through her paces, though, then it was my turn. OK. Deep breath. Mount her. She starts to move off. I stop her. Get seated. Stop her. Find the other stirrup. Stop her. Make her stand a moment. Then I turn her and she trots off like her feet are on fire. I ask for turns and she reluctantly complies. I ask her to slow her pace and she does for a moment then speeds back up. We trot round past a cornfield like the one in the movie Signs. I'm thinking as hard as she is to control at the trot, no way am I gonna canter her even as she's busting to break into a canter. We pass the family and come back around. As we pass the cornfield, the wind picks up and rattles the leaves with a hiss. The mare slides sideways and down and I think oh dear god i'm gonna fall off no I'm not oh jeezus h christ then I regain my seat but she's unnerved and ready to bolt at the next rustle so I pull her up by the family, dismount, say "thank you very much" and leave. Without looking back. I wonder what fool wound up with her?

I went through more than a few experiences with horses that sounded wonderful on paper and were practically sanctified by their owners, but turned out to be worse than Cheerios in person. Would I ever find a good solid friendly trustworthy trail buddy? I was beginning to wonder. Then I saw the ad in the Ohio Horseman's Council newsletter about three horses for sale. Oooh, a 10-year-old bay mare. I called right away. Why were they selling her if she was so wonderful? I wasn't prepared for the story.

The husband relayed the story to me. His wife, the real owner of the horses, had been driving home from work one morning and had fallen asleep at the wheel of her pickup. She lost control and rolled; I think a tree or phone pole may have been involved. She survived... but was in the hospital recovering—and was now paralyzed from the shoulders down. She had some use of her arms but... she wouldn't be riding anytime soon. I was devastated for them. It had only been a month since the accident. They didn't want to sell them but they had to because nobody else really rode them but her; and they were selling the trailer and a boat as well. I knew medical bills had to play a part in their decision and felt for them deeply.

The first time I saw Wildflower... well, we'll pick that up tomorrow.

My first official summer of horse ownership...

All my dreams: of tranquil trots through the woods, of sitting quietly by a stream with my gentle steed grazing nearby, of galloping merrily past the pines with my laughing friends... all shot to hell. Instead, I spent the first half of the summer watching snails pass me when I chanced to walk, or lying on the couch in the one semi-comfortable position I could find, sweating from the heat and doped up on Darvocet. I decided it might be prudent to take the doctor's advice and sit out the horse thing for the prescribed six weeks.

When I was finally healed, I went back to the barn filled with trepidation. Will I be able to get back on him? Will he remember me, what will his reaction be? It was not good. He didn't want to be bridled and fought the bit. I had a helluva time trying to get his head down. That was just one problem, which I eventually "solved" with molasses on the bit. He wouldn't pay attention to my commands under saddle in the arena, he balked and threatened to buck, he whirled around, he zigged and zagged and tried his darndest to unseat me. He'd watch me peripherally while grazing, take a step forward but swing his front foot out towards me, nearly decapitating my toes. He'd snap his feet up so fast when I went to pick them out that I'd lose my balance, then he'd slam his foot down or continually try to yank it out of my hand while I desperately tried to hold on.

It was hell on my back and he knew it. I sware, I could see him smirking at me. He began to resemble a sorrel demon... those weren't ears on his head, they were furry horns.

The situation worsened. A few days later I was leading him back out to the pasture for turn out. We'd come through the arena gate and were standing in the lane to the trails that passes between the arena and the gelding pasture. I was latching the gate when something spooked him badly and he wheeled, sidewinded, snorted and reared up, striking me on the forearm with his front hoof. I immediately let go of his lead and he went tearing off down the lane toward the woods. I thought, my god, he'll get lost--killed--run into the road--damned beast, might have broken my arm, I'm just healing from the sprain!!! Is horsemanship all about getting hurt?

Thankfully, he stopped running a few yards down the lane and began grazing. I took a few steps toward him and he saw me and bolted. I was worried he'd tangle himself up in the lead rope; Julie (another boarder) saw I was in trouble and came to my rescue (seems I always need someone to rescue me from this horse lately). She calmly walked up to him and coaxed him back. She turned him out for me. I was too shaken to deal with him. My arm was only bruised, but my self-confidence and trust in Cheerios was completely and irrevocably shattered.

From then on, it was miserable. It got to where I couldn't even lead him myself--I had to have another boarder lead him and stay between me and Cheerios. I didn't trust him otherwise! I was angry, frustrated, despondent, questioning my abilities and my initial decision to buy a horse.

Then my riding buddy, Jenny, offered to help. She suggested we trade horses temporarily until I built my confidence back up. Her horse, Redbird, was at the time 17 years old and a former lesson horse. She was as compliant as they come. Jenny said to ride her whenever I wanted. Jenny would come out and give me riding pointers and did what Parelli calls Passenger Lessons with me (although we weren't aware of this at the time): while mounted, I'd shut my eyes, put my arms at my sides, and let her lead the horse around while I focused on moving with the horse. It developed my balance and my trust and I learned how to sit the saddle better.

After a couple of months, I had regained enough confidence to begin riding the trails again. I was better at controlling the horse and making her mind. Jenny was working with Cheerios (who had affectionately been nicknamed Butthead) so she would head out on Cheerios and I would ride Red. It went pretty well and I overcame the residual trail tremors. The big test was when I took Red on my first solo flight down the hour loop all by myself. I was a little nervous about it, but experienced no problems. I received my "diploma" and was pronounced "cured". It was time to reclaim my horse.

Our approach to trail rides shifted. We'd start out with Jenny on Cheerios and I on Red, then halfway out, we'd trade and I'd ride Cheerios for as long as I felt comfortable. If I started getting nervous, we'd trade back. Eventually I rode him from the halfway point home, then finally from beginning to end. The bridling problem had vanished and Cheerios was not the demonic threat on the ground anymore. It was fall of 2001. I had succeeded. I'd overcome my fears.

Or so I thought.

There were still days when we'd go out on a ride and I'd be uneasy the whole time, clenched feeling in my gut, and he'd be a challenge to ride. Some days he spooked at every little thing and it was a sigh of relief to dismount. I began to wonder, how do people enjoy this activity when it seems to be a lesson in perseverence and deep breathing--isn't this supposed to be relaxing? Fun, even? Well, if so, I wasn't having it. Maybe I wasn't cut out for this horse thing after all.

The winter of 2001-02 was unseasonably warm. We were still riding into January with little snow on the ground and spring-like temperatures at Christmas. I went for a short jaunt with Karen (horse: Mary) out to Harry Hughes (an outdoor show arena) shortly after the first of the year. The ride was going well until we got to Harry Hughes. Karen wanted to ride around in the arena a little bit. Cheerios and I had been over there plenty of times, for Poker Runs and other events when there were lots of trucks, trailers and horses around so I didn't think anything of it, especially since today it was deserted.

Cheerios, on the other hand, had other ideas. The minute we entered the arena, his demeanor changed. His ears went back and he started dodging and zigzagging. I began to lose control of him. Karen and I changed plans and decided to head for home instead of working in the arena there. I was relieved to get past the chute and head back to the woods. Then Cheerios bucked. Not a big one, but his head went down and his rear moved.

I froze in the saddle. Ice poured through my veins. He ducked again like he was gonna rodeo... I melted into my saddle and took deeeeeep slooooow breaths and forced myself to relax. He relaxed. I waited a minute. I carefully... with just the suggestion of a nudge... asked him to waaaalk ooonn... he took three steps and the ears went back and his back arched. Breathe... relax... wait... two steps ears back arched... I wondered if I should dismount and walk him back then had a vision of pulling my right leg out of the stirrup, getting my leg over the saddle and having him bolt--or worse! I knew if I tried to dismount I'd be dead. Why did I ever decide to mount this horse today? How the heck am I gonna get off of him without dying?

All I could do was try to get home--and it was only fifteen minutes walking from HH to our barn. It was like riding on a beach ball rolling on waves during an earthquake. He threw mini-bucking fits six times on that ride home. It was a credit to my newfound riding ability and Jenny's patient Passenger Lessons that I managed to move with Cheerios and maintain my seat. In disbelief, my mind got wrapped around the idea that Cheerios was actually frustrated by my ability to stay seated and it made him try even harder to knock me off balance or take control. When I finally dismounted, I practically kissed the solid ground in thanks and realized that I wasn't interested in riding Cheerios--or anything equine--for a very long time. My muscles were as sore as if I'd been on a four-hour ride, and we'd only been out for 45 minutes.

So Cheerios began his sabbatical from the human world. Oh, I still visited with him and kept him socialized; but I didn't ride him. In fact, I stopped riding altogether. He languished for months while I tried to come to grips with the idea of selling him, riding him, getting a different horse or quitting horses completely. I was so depressed about it that sometimes I couldn't sleep. Meanwhile, I was still coughing up board every month and paying farrier bills and for vaccines. {flu$$$$h...}

Now, the entire time this drama was going on, I'd been observing a couple of the other boarders, Julie and Nicole, who were always in the round pen doing the goofiest things with their horses. They had these orange sticks that looked a lot like whips (but they were most certainly not whips, they admonished me), and these flimsy-looking halters made out of rope (like THAT'S gonna hold a horse like Cheerios when he acts up, {snort laugh}), and they'd wiggle their fingers at their horses, who would (to my surprise) back up. Then they'd point in a direction, sort of stir the air with that orange stick, and the horse, who wasn't even on a lead line, would trot off nice as you please in a circle around the human. The human would look down at her feet and not pay any attention to the horse, just stand there... and the horse would keep trotting round and round without changing gait, without stopping, until the human looked up and stirred the air with the stick at the horse. On that command, the horse would immediately stop and turn 90 degrees to face the human and just stand there stock still. No way I could ever get Cheerios to do that... those must be trick horses.

OK, my curiosity was peaked. The first time I witnessed this, I asked Nicole how she got her horse to do that. She told me about Parelli Natural Horsemanship. She told me what a nutcase Makona had been when she first got him. She and Julie were both PNH students and were progressing nicely with their horses. Of course, I was skeptical. Sounded like a scam. After all, this was the same chick who got dumped off at a dead run into a tree not two weeks after I first bought Cheerios and had screws holding her disintegrated knee together; she was fool enough to be back in the round pen with her horse no less than a week after getting out of the hospital--propped up on crutches, in the snow, working with her horse. I thought she was completely crazy and obsessed. I mean, even I had enough sense to stay away from horses when I was recovering and I only had a sprain.

Well, I'd had Cheerios for almost a year, he'd seriously injured me, I'd been working through some profound fear issues and decided my sweet baby horse had turned into a murderous monster that no one would ever be able to ride except a rodeo cowboy; meanwhile, Nicole had kept with her PNH program the whole time despite the obstacle of her own injuries and her horse had morphed from a nervous nutcase into a calm puppy dog that followed her around and obeyed her every command. On top of that, Nicole never ever looked scared or worried about what her horse might do and she never yelled or raised her voice with him, yet he was perfectly behaved. I was jealous.

It was April 2002 when I was finally convinced, "OK, maybe there IS some validity to this Parelli stuff..." It was quite an investment, but I had a good job and summer was coming--I didn't want to sell Cheerios because I was really attached (monster or not) and the thought broke my heart; I vowed to do everything in my power to fix our relationship and only sell him after exhausting every avenue. The Level One kit contained a halter, lead rope, carrot stick, savvy string, natural hackamore, book, video, and pocket guides. After debating it for a few weeks, I committed to the program and ordered the kit online, pausing only briefly before hitting Send.

A couple of weeks later, 20% of my company was laid off. I was one of them. I arrived home that day, May 24th, to find all of my PNH Level One materials and equipment waiting on my front porch, courtesy of FedEx.

Do you suppose it was a sign?

"Quiet Horse? What Quiet Horse?"
Good morning, I am still awake for reasons unknown. You'd think riding a horse bareback for awhile would tire oneself out enough to sleep.

Yep, I thought I was living the American (Quarter Horse) Dream. I had me a fine-lookin' sorrel hoss, a nice Circle Y trail saddle, my very own tack box and saddle rack in a BARN full of HORSES, livin breathin snortin poopin horses--and miles of wooded trails just waiting to be explored. I had mah hat, mah boots, and mah swagger was progressing nicely. Course I didn't have a clue what to actually DO with this beast.

It was already dark when we arrived at the boarding barn and there was only one light above the barn but lots of cars in the lot. Bob from the trader's barn trailered Cheerios out there and unloaded him for me. My parents came along for the ride. Bob slid open the enormous red door and flicked on the lights. A long row of stalls became filled with just-awoken noses poking out--what looked like a football field's length of horses, blinking eyes turned our way. I stopped and stared in awe, inhaling the mixture of manure, hay and horsehair. It was intoxicating. We got Cheerios settled into his new stall and Bob said Good Luck and drove away. My Dad stayed for a short bit to make sure I was ok, then left as well. He thought we'd better all leave since it was nighttime, the horses were "in bed" and it was cold... but I wanted to stay. I couldn't very well just go off and leave my baby alone in a strange place. So they left, and I stayed.

And there I was. Alone, in a barn, with my new horse and an equine audience of 40. I very carefully stepped into his stall and closed the door. I had no idea what to do, so I just talked to him. He moved--to turn and look at me. I was so apprehensive that I was paralyzed. The barn door rolled open. Footsteps. I was talking to my horse and didn't really register the sound. A female voice said tentatively, "Uh, is someone in here? Can I help you?" I opened Cheerios' door. Nearly spooked her off her feet. She was petite, blonde, attractive. I introduced myself and my horse. She smiled and walked up to him and greeted him. Then she showed me her horses and introduced herself as Nicole. I admitted that I had no idea how to get acquainted with him--it's my first horse ever. She showed me what I later discovered were the Friendly and Porcupine games from PNH. We got to know each other a bit then she said that everyone was inside watching a horse training video and eating pizza--you're welcome to join us.

I was thrilled! Hadn't been there 15 minutes and already I felt like part of the Saddle Club. I was introduced to a group of about 12, squeezed into a tiny living room in the caretaker's house. The video was "One Day with Pat Parelli". How interesting that within only a few hours I became a horse owner and was introduced to Parelli. The video was amazing--I could not believe that people were doing such things with their horses: jumping them over picnic tables without anything on the horse at all, riding an obstacle course with a lead rope and halter, dancing with their horses ("At Liberty")... it was so beautiful, so poetic, everything I'd ever dreamed of having with my horse. I left the barn that night filled with visions of sugar cubes and pretty ponies laughing with me.

Of course, I soon found out that horses would much rather laugh AT you than with you, until they are convinced that you know what you're doing. ;-/

Despite a horridly frigid Ohio winter, I was out at the barn every chance I got, regardless of whether it was a 10-below wind chill or not. I worked diligently in the ring on my riding abilities. My modus operandi was to arrive, plod through the snowy pasture, get my horse, lead him through the pasture, let him sail over the creek (he loves to jump it and I loved watching him do it), bring him in, brush him, tack him up, drag him into the arena, hop on, and walk trot canter around the arena while practicing getting my seat, positioning my legs, turning, stopping. Mind you, I'm of the Western discipline, the "hop on and go" crowd; seeing people in those ridiculously indecent "britches" (breeches) with a whip in one hand and a long line attached to their horse just made my face screw up. Too much trouble! What were they doing? After I got too cold, I'd untack him, brush him and pick out his feet, then feed him some cookies and send him back out to pasture. This went on for a few weeks until Spring hit and people started coming to the barn in droves to ride the trails. I hooked up with some of the more avid riders and began my adventure.

There were lots of them. Horses tend to spook at imaginary things; one of my fellow boarders had a horse who jumped ten feet if a chipmunk ran under his feet. A chipmunk! I'd been hearing all the stories for weeks; I was quite surprised that Cheerios wasn't spooky and actually wanted to chase the Forest Cows (deer). I thought "what a perfect horse I have" and "I must be a kick a** rider". Especially after the Day of the Big Jump.

"I Thought For SURE You'd Bite It!!!"
I was on the trail with Jenny and Sue. We'd been going for rides for a few weeks. Jenny's horse Redbird is a senior by horse terms--she was 17 then (19 today) and quiet as they come. Sue had Breezy, who had nervous fits sometimes but Sue was able to handle her. We took a long ride that day, about 3 hours. We were getting tired, ready to go home. Jenny suggested a shortcut. Being a newbie, I had no idea that that shortcut could have cost us each $75 if the rangers had caught us because it went through unchartered territory, off the trails. But I merrily followed along. It took us over a creek that runs through the park. There was a rickety "bridge" over it, about four feet long and half as wide--to me it looked more like someone stuck an old loading palette across the creek as an afterthought. The horses seemed to share my opinion.

Breezy wanted no part of it and clattered across with her legs tripping over each other. Redbird crow-hopped across. Then it was my turn. Cheerios looked at the bridge, looked at the creek, back at the bridge. I took a deep relaxing breath and tried desperately to think "waaaaallllk". Remember. He loves to jump creeks. For some reason this did not occur to me until that very moment, that my pasture routine had taught him "it's ok to JUMP creeks". I gave him the slightest nudge to move forward. He took a step. He turned toward the creek. I said "uh-uh", backed him, redirected him to the bridge. Same thing. Nudge, step, turn, uh-uh. Jenny and Sue are ahead, watching. Jenny yells "just make him do it!" I'm like, "I'm trying, just give me a minute". Every instinct said stay with it until he does it my way. But I was so unsure of myself I thought maybe I ought to just give up and go. A couple more nudge step almost over the creek attempts and I just sighed. I said this time we're doing it, we're getting across that bridge one way or another.

Nudge. Step. I sank deep into my seat, wrapped one hand firmly around the horn just in case, gave him his head, focused my gaze ahead of the bridge where I wanted him to go, and let out a deep breath. Cheerios glanced back at me as if to say, "you ready?" I gave him a nudge. He stepped. I heard his legs snap up as he launched himself over the bridge--and we were sailing, flying!!! We landed with an ooof safely on the other side (Jenny said, "all you said was 'uh!'")--Cheerios' feet picked up momentum and we did a mini steeplechase under a group of low trees and jumped a couple of clumps and then shot out and slammed to a sliding stop on the trail ahead of Jenny and Sue. Five jaws had dropped. Cheerios was too busy smirking. I was speechless. Exhilirated. Terrified. Could not believe I'd just done that, let alone survived it! Jenny said "I thought for SURE you were gonna bite it but you didn't! You stayed on! Good girl! My god I wish I had a video tape of that!" Nobody could believe he could jump like that. I still wish I could have seen it from their point of view.

I was the talk of the barn for days after. Cheerios was made out to be the next Olympic hopeful. I was beaming. I thought I was the SHIT.

But all that changed within a couple of weeks. What I hadn't realized was that by letting Cheerios call the shots, I'd given up my right to ask for respect, and he became the leader in the relationship. It resulted in my almost giving up horses out of a newly-developed and paralyzing fear caused by his having had enough of that green rider on his back.

OOUCHHH!!!
It was Mother's Day. My buddy Bruce and I took Weapon and Cheerios out for a quick jaunt before I went to visit my mother. Well, it was supposed to be a quick jaunt, anyway. Quick, uneventful. But I'd woken up with a nagging feeling that something wasn't right. But then, I wake up with those all the time. I live under a cloud of impending doom... but that can be saved for a different blog.

We'd been out for about an hour and a half and it was great. I was working on posting to the trot and trying to figure out which lead was the one I should rise on. Weapon and Bruce were lagging behind. I posted to one lead. That felt bumpy; I switched rather awkwardly to the other. Hmm. Still not... let me just look down and try to see which leg is going first... all of a sudden, sideways spook, spin: I slide almost out of the saddle to the left, hook my ovaries up on the saddle horn, horse's head goes down toward the ground everything's off balance I'm falling forward I'm trying to right myself horse's head comes back up SMACKS me in the face and blam. I'm on the ground. On my back. Blur of hooves. Get up, get up, get out of the way of the hooves but all I can manage is to roll over onto my hands and knees I can't breathe why can't I breathe oh god is this how I'm gonna die? Bruce rounds the corner with Weapon, screeches to a halt, jumps off his horse to help me up. can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan't-- UUUUAAAGGGGHHH!!! thank GOD I can BREATHE again!!!

Cheerios is a few feet up the trail eating grass like nothing happened. Bruce is white as a ghost. His reputation for dumping girls is firmly in place now; every newbie he takes on the trail with him winds up eating dirt, usually through no fault of his. One had a separated shoulder, another broke something small, and Nicole had an encounter with a tree that put pins in her knee after it shattered. Here I was, in a heap. (Bruce, are you cursed?) We assessed that I was ok, now that I'd recovered my breathing ability, nothing was broken but I'd likely be awfully sore tomorrow from the impact. He retrieved my horse and helped me back on. Broken or not, we had to get back to the barn and it was either gonna be a long walk or a long ride. I opted to ride. It was ok, but I was shaken. The longer we went, the more my back started to hurt. Every little motion became agony. I began to worry that I had broken something.

By the time we had minced our way back to the barn, an hour and a half later, I was almost in tears but true to cowgirl form, hiding it well. Then I tried to dismount. My right leg was not obeying my orders. It refused to swing up over the saddle. I tried and tried. I thought my god I'm paralyzed--well, no, I can still move it just not where I want it to go--did I break my back? How the F*** am I gonna get down I wanna get down I want OFF this horse NOW OH my god I'm going to be trapped on top of this horse forever!!!! (Rational thought was leaving me)

Bruce had to come rescue me, which had to have been comical to watch since I'm somewhat taller than he is. Somehow I got off that darned beast and was finally touching solid grou--OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWNNNNDDDDD! Ow ow oowowowowow. No. Don't wanna stand. No. Left leg no good. Ouch. No god please let me just lie down here. Ouch. Bruce ran and got me his lawn chair and I lowered myself into it. Kind of. Cheerios was looking at me. I know he was thinking "Whattheheck's wrong with YOU?" I sat for a moment then used the hitching post to haul myself back up. I tried to cowboy up and untack him but lifting the saddle even a millimeter sent agony screaming down my back. Bruce took care of my horse for me. The enjoyment was not over yet. I still had a half hour's drive to my parents' house, in a manual transmission. Everyone was concerned that I'd be able to drive; my feeling was, if I could ride the damned horse back to the barn, dismount, and hobble to the car, I could last long enough to drive to where someone could take care of me.

So I did. It was the most painful drive I've ever made. I wasn't home for 15 minutes before my parents insisted I go to the ER. But I was STARVING so I waited until after dinner. Again, I rode the horse, I can walk, I drove to the house, I can at least eat some food, I'm not in danger of dying and I'll feel less bad if I'm sitting in the waiting room for three hours with a full stomach rather than an empty one. Sure enough, three hours of waiting and several excruciating xrays later (along with lots of curious staffers quizzing me about my horseback activities, I was the entertainment of the night and secretly relishing my Rodeo Star role), they sent me home with a note for work, a bottle of Darvocet and a sprained back. When I asked the doctor how long before I can ride again, he snorted in disbelief. "Two weeks at the very least! But I doubt you'll feel ready for about six."

SIX WEEKS!!! But it was May! Riding season had just started! In six weeks it would be summer and too hot to ride. I said whatever, I'm riding in two.

It was the longest time I'd been away from my horse since buying him. Sure enough, two weeks to the day, I went out to the barn. Yes, I was still on crutches. Yes, I still hurt like the devil. But I was beginning to wonder if I'd be able to get back on if I waited longer than two weeks. So Jenny got him for me, tacked him up, and lead him to the arena. My dad was there... they both were exchanging looks. Mounting him hurt. I couldn't do it without the block and felt like a greenhorn. Sitting in the saddle woke up traumatized muscles but I held fast to my resolve. The huge bruise from the saddle horn was changing colors and by some miracle my face had come away without even so much as a fat lip, despite kissing my horse on the neck. I sat there, a ball of nerves. Cheerios shifted his weight. I clenched in pain. His ears pricked up. He shifted again. I winced and tightened up and tried to relax, but even relaxing was difficult and painful because it involved altering the tension state of the muscle. Cheerios took a couple steps. I pulled back on the reins and winced in pain. He paused, then continued walking. Didn't take him long to figure out I wasn't going to be able to stop him effectively because every movement brought on more pain. The terror was rising inside. God, please don't let him run, I can't stop him and I don't know if I can hold on.

He was heading toward the mare's pasture; the gate was open. I smelled immediate disaster because the mares don't like the geldings much and vice versa and I had visions of being powerless to stop him when they took after each other, kicking and biting. Jenny saw I was in trouble and ran over to collect us. She lead us back to my crutches and I dismounted, discouraged and afraid.

Too afraid to get back on him again. It was a very long painful summer.