Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, aka Me

After writing of a break-through with Mandi the other day, I need to write now of the deleterious consequence of such break throughs; i.e. my irrational leap to equate progress with utter and complete transformation. The leap translates into riding that is centered on my own expectation and assumption rather than on how my horse truly is in the world. Mandi developing the ability to trot with rhythm and swing in a lower frame doesn't mean her conformation has suddenly changed into that of a warmblood and her energy and mind into that of a draft horse. But I seemed to lose sight of those simple realities this past week, to Mandi's frustration and my disappointment in myself.

The reality is Mandi has great heart, potentially limited soundness, endless try, and a running horse frame and movement. I need to honor all of these facets of my mare, and not privilege one to the neglect of another, or the integrity of our partnership will be damaged.

So this week we're going back to simple walk, trot and canter work that focuses on relaxation only. That's worked for us for almost a year now. This afternoon, I'll find out if her year with Dr. Jekyll can trump two rides with Mr. Hyde.

Winter Horsekeeping

We moved to Iowa in 2000. The first several winters were not the midwest winters I remembered from growing up in Illinois in the 1970's. But last year brought a return to the weather of my youth. Sub-zero stretches, and, even worse, thaws followed by hard freezes that turned the barn yard and dry lots into skating rink footing. This year has been better by an order of magnitude, maybe only because we aren't into the thaw-freeze cycle yet. I can't remember if that was a February-only or winter-long phenomenon.

This winter, I've been determined to ride in all but the coldest weather, and so far have mustered the discipline to do it. I don't ask Mandi to work in the single digits or colder, for fear of damaging her upper-respiratory, but otherwise we're at it 4 to 5 days a week. We're both a bit tired of the indoor; a thought best not dwelled on considering we have at least two months to go before footing outside will safely accomodate horse feet.

What I'm willing to risk has changed over the years with my age and with circumstance. During the Montana winters when I didn't have access to an indoor arena, I began legging-up Bud in March when we still had snow and ice on the ground. My main memories of those rides are the times we unknowingly ventured onto ice sheets under a thin layer of snow. Bud would skitter desperately for a moment to keep his feet under him and get back to solid ground while I froze in the saddle to avoid affecting his balance. Both of us shot through with adrenaline, we'd stand and re-group a moment before continuing on across the Plum Creek (the Burlington Northern timberlands) ground that bounded the homestead on three sides.

Yesterday I thought about this, looking out the arena doors to the snowy hay meadows. I may take Mandi out in the fields this week. She will drift-bust on the lead line, so maybe she will be brave under saddle, too. I think we can follow a line that's free of ice, and a bit of time free of a training agenda would be a treat for us.

Dressing for the cold is its own talent. It's also the most drudgy aspect of wintertime horse-keeping. It does, however, become easier as the cold weeks wear on. By this point in the season, donning fleece breeches, two pairs of socks, turtleneck, wool sweater, fleece vest, and a riding-weight jacket is an auto-pilot process. I also wear an old Talbot's wool knee-length coat over everything until I'm ready to ride. And on chore-only days, a pair of quilted, insulated over-pants.

The horses also endure winter clothing. Because they are pastured with a three-sided shelter they seem uninclined to use very often, I keep them blanketed all winter, to reduce the effect of the wind chill. When temps drop into the single digits, I double-blanket. Yesterday afternoon I put Jill's fleece liner on and dressed Mandi in a light-weight insulated stable blanket under her heavy turnout blanket. She had been in a fleece liner, but her shoulders are recovering from rubs and I didn't want the new hair damaged with the friction of fleece. I've put Bag Balm on both mares' shoulder points, and will be watching to see if the rubbing remains confined to hair loss. So far, no inflammation or skin abrasion.

Today will be a chore day only. This morning we have a -3 air temp with a -19 wind chill advisory. I love loading the hay feeder in winter and seeing my mares gain weight, even in the severe cold. The round bale ran out last week and the family that owns the barn where I board hasn't had a chance to load in another, but there is a loft full of square grass bales and I still have a two or three weeks' supply of alfalfa bales. So Mandi and Jill's internal combustion heaters have round-the-clock fuel; a very good thing.

Side Reins

I haven't used draw reins much in my training. I used a german martingale for a few weeks about 18 years ago, but didn't like the feel. I always rode my reiners and some of my hunters in running martingale rings, but even got away from that in recent years. So when a trainer I work with now suggested longeing my mares in a pessoa rig, I procrastinated, more out of force of habit and because I don't lounge Mandi much than because I chose not to do so. But when I brought Mandi back into work in mid-December, she was high from the lay-off on her own full-time agenda. So I began longeing her in side reins. The effect was intriguing, but she continued to invert under saddle. I left the side reins on one day recently when I rode, and the result was OK. I continued, and last night we had a breakthrough. Mandi spooked around for a while, squirming and feeling ADD. Her lead changes were solid, though, and she relaxed within a couple of strides after the change from left to right, and while not as quickly from right to left, she did eventually settle within about a half-circle. After her canter work, I decided to conclude with more trotting. After just a few steps, Mandi relaxed her neck, lowered her head, softened her jaw and settled into a fabulous, absolutely rhythmic swinging trot. It almost felt as though she'd been hypnotized into some new, utterly relaxed zone. This mare doesn't cease to amaze and humble me with her try and heart.

I love my Mandi Mae.

Morning thoughts

The older I get, the more experiences I accumulate in the rearview mirror, the more time I want to spend with horses. I'm beginning to conclude that the ultimate anecdote to existential doldrums is time spent in my passion, and not just easy time, but daily routine time. Barn chores in the depths of winter, when the temperatures are below zero and the wind just hurts, are absolutely real and necessary. There's no wondering what it's all for...it's for keeping your horses watered, fed, groomed, healthy, alive.

Some years I have reduced my riding activity substantially in the winter. This year is one when I have not. Mandi got a break during part of November and December, but is now back in work 5 days a week, and I continued to ride Jill through that period, until she sprained her ankle in the paddock. I usually look forward to going to the barn, but once I get there on the colder days, it takes an act of will to ride instead of just doing chores and heading straight home. I'm finding joy in having the discipline to follow through, though, and the reality is that starting is the hardest part. Once I have Mandi in from the field, the rest can be a bit painful cold-wise, but just unfolds naturally.

If I was smart, I'd start barn activities with cleaning Jill's stall first. If I do that with all my layers on, I'm very warm by the time I get done, and hang onto that warmth through feed time. That warmth would make grooming and tacking up a much more pleasant activity. Come to think of it, if I let Mandi walk and trot around for five minutes or so before grooming, she might enjoy the process more, too. It's got to be hard on her as well, the time between when I pull off her blanket and when we get moving in the arena.

The temp is 19 today. My jaw feels better. It should be a good day at the barn.

Cracked in the Jaw, but a Good Day nonetheless

After making it through 13 months injury free with Mandi, we broke our streak today. As so often happens with horses, I took the hit in the most mundane way. When I arrived at the barn, she was lying down, taking a sun bath in the snow. When I approached, she peacefully turned her face to me and I stood near her for a moment. When Daisy, the pygmy goat, approached and reared up on Mandi's side, she decided it was time to rise. I rubbed her neck, put on her halter and stepped around in front of her to adjust the noseband a bit. She's been sensitive about having her cavesson tightened the past couple of weeks, and when I tugged on the halter, she flipped her nose up. I was too close and she smacked me, hard, under the chin. I saw lights and knew the impact caused some damage. I didn't feel much pain, though, so continued on with the daily routine.

The young woman whose folks own the barn where I board has hired a guy to start a filly, Dove, she was given last summer in lieu of a $$ debt. He was in the arena already so we rode together. I didn't lunge Mandi, and she never really settled under saddle. When the filly left the arena, Mandi became even more agitated, because Dove is her pasture mate. This was the first time since last spring Mandi has failed to settle under saddle, but I suspect the cold, snow and a grain too high in starch are making her higher this winter. Rather than keep trying to get her focus on me while riding, I dismounted, attached the side reins to her girth and put her on the lunge. She relaxed within 5 minutes and ended up with some good transitions on the line. I enjoy watching her find a sweet spot in rhythm and frame. Mandi's canter has always been balanced and her trot has been a struggle. I find it easier to influence the quality of a canter, so it's been quite an ongoing project to help Mandi develop a relaxed, round-ish trot.

When she was dry, I smeared Bag Balm on the points of her shoulders where her blanket is rubbing the hair short and took her back to her paddock. Jill's stall didn't take long -- I'm enjoying bedding with straw this winter, though in the past I've always preferred shavings. I think the straw creates a warmer, cozier bed in this deep chill weather that seems to be the status quo this winter. Finished the evening chores with feeding and then headed home.

I hadn't thought much about my jaw until I got home and realized my back teeth aren't meeting. If I try to close them together, the right side feels really odd and a bit painful. I chewed supper on the left side. This needs to go away soon, as I really, really don't want to go to the doctor. It's late...think I'll take some ibuprofen to stave off any inflammation and head for bed.

Picking Mandi up at the Track - December 2007

Mandi is a 2003 bay mare by Lac Ouimet out of Baby Ray. Her parentage is a mixed bag. In the racing world, her sire was the equivalent of a member of the Kennedy family, and her dam of peasant stock. My heart lies with peasants, so this analogy should be read as a neutral description. There is an interesting write-up on Lac Ouimet on page 4 here .

Mandi is absolutely the spitting image of her sire, right down to the sock on her left hind. Her conformation is almost precisely the same, including the flaws (long cannons and pasterns, straight shoulder, slightly high hip) but she did not inherit her father's ability to win. She broke her maiden in 2006, and that was it for her. That race was at 5/8, and knowing Mandi I wonder if she might have been more successful at a longer distance. Her energy is bottomless. Racing is more than athletic ability, however, and Mandi did not thrive in the track life.

When I purchased her, she was neurotic and dangerous to handle. She hated to be touched, which manifest in kicking and diving to the back of the stall. When I arrived at Fairmount in early December of 2007 to haul her home, I handled her for the first time and immediately began to have regrets about buying her. Her groom, a kind young woman who seemed to be a long-term member of her trainer's operation, handled Mandi very cautiously. I said I'd like to put shipping boots on her for the 5 hour ride home and the young woman looked dubious but said she would hold the mare for me. Getting the boots on was nerve-wracking; I would get one of the velcro straps fastened and then step back as Mandi lunged or kicked. Her groom warned me that she kicked worse with the left hind, the white foot, and this proved true for months to come.

Once the boots were on, we took Mandi from the stall to lead her to the trailer. As she left the stall, she blew-up. All four feet flying, lunging and leaping, she fired kicks each time her hind feet left the ground. I ducked down the side aisle to get out of the way and the groom stayed in front of Mandi to avoid her feet. There was no way she could haul in that state, so we put her back in the stall, where she calmed a bit. The groom offered to remove the wraps, but she was as unexcited to handle the mare as I was, and it had been my idea to put them on. So I removed them, going through the same scary process as before, just in reverse. And then I had to load her.

My trailer is a three-horse slant load with an inviting entry as there is no rear tack, and the mare was used to loading, so this was less eventful than the wrap episode. Even so, Mandi continued to skitter and lunge about. My adrenaline was sky-high. Her groom, again somewhat hesitantly, offered to load, but I declined. Everyone's trailer set-up and tying routines are subtly different, and the mare was now mine. My relief was visceral when she was on the trailer, both of us unharmed on our respective sides of the divider. The ride back to Iowa was uneventful, but the events on the track shedrow were harbingers of the weeks to come.