On the Block---The Mounting Block

I don't think Josie's ever been asked to stand still for mounting.   I don't get the feeling she's being sloppy, just that she knows she's got a job to do and doesn't see any reason not to get right to it.   So, it's kind of fun trying  to introduce this concept to her.  I learned alot about teaching a horse to stand still for mounting at the Mark Rashid clinic I took Willow to this past January.   I'd gone through having Willow held for me (on the rare occasions I wasn't alone), and another clinician had taught me to refocus him by moving his hind end around from one side of the mounting block to the other, when he would swing his haunches away from me on the block.   Mark Rashid's approach was completely different.   He had me stand on the block and just very slowly and patiently draw my horse---one halting step at a time---into mounting position.   We stopped after each step---or even each lean--- for praise and to be sure the horse had time to figure out what was wanted.   If he swung out, we just softly repositioned and started over.  No remonstrating, just allowing the horse whatever time he needed to figure it out.   It's worked great with Willow, though it does require patience, as does most horse work.   So that's where I am with Miss Josie.   Her issue is more nearly just walking forward and away, or since she's achieved pocket-pony status--- taking a step back.   Neither move brings reward or punishment, merely gentle repositioning and another try.  Success brings much praise and a treat, maybe a couple for continued stillness.    She's much better, although she still wants to move off at when I lean onto her the slightest bit.  But that's the next step, so to speak.  What a little Jeep she is!   Perhaps I should have gotten a mule years ago!   

Mulehardy---The Conclusion

As Josie danced at my mounting block, I  looked across her shiny back at the ground on the other side, remembering suddenly how easy it is to either throw your self over too hard and wind up there.  Another strong possibility, especially for someone out of practice at riding bareback, is just to lose your balance on that slick hide on an equine who moves off as you launch.  I certainly had forgotten that, when I first worked on standing still at the mounting block with Willow, to the dismay of both of us!  

This was the moment when I realized what a lousy idea taking our first ride bareback was, and I knew I could take the  better part of discretion and just work on standing at the mounting block, since this was evidently not in Miss Josie's repertoire.  Probably, the use of a mounting block at all was a novelty to an equine as short as she, but I think horses (and mules) appreciate not having their saddles pulled down and sideways so I always look for a step up of some sort.  Common sense not having asserted itself, I circled Josie around the block and seized my opportunity when she passed by again, launching myself gently onto her  broad  back.  Luck was with me, and even without a mane to grab I managed to pull myself upright, and my little mule walked brightly off up the driveway.  About half way out Josie suddenly hooked a hard left back toward the barn.  I managed to block it, but that was when I knew I was really going to be tested.  Could I stay on a slightly  barn sour mule that I didn't know without benefit of stirrups, or mane (or common sense, obviously)?   I didn't want to dismount right then, with that maneuver the last thing she remembered doing beforehand, so I gritted my teeth, tightened my legs all the way down, and steered back to the driveway, and we managed to make it out onto the dirt street in front of my house.  Where she promptly did the left hand u-turn again.  This time, I almost fell off.  My upper body balance was nil and I remember thinking I'd surely wind up on the ground this time.  By some miracle my legs reasserted themselves and I bobbed upright, rather like a buoy in the water.  By now we were headed back to the barn and I took a determined hold on the rein, and managed to head us back up the road.  My goal was to make at least a complete circuit of the open area in front of my house.  Since I have no ring, it's the closest thing to one, never mind that one side of it goes right through one of my neighbors yards.   She bobbled a couple of times, but we managed it.  Coming to the side by my house, Josie again pulled her hard left, nearly unloading me again.  I thanked God she really wasn't too serious about it, as I tightened my legs again and got her headed straight.   If she'd put on any airs above the ground, either front or back, she'd have had me, but what a good little mule she was really!   She clearly stated her preference for returning now to the barn, and she expected to get her way, but she only spun on the ground, bless her little mule-y heart.  I couldn't believe my luck, but I wanted to get by that spot without her turning back, and she'd caught me out twice, so around we went again.  This time when we approached my house-side, I was ready and we made it by with only a slight crookedness!  I wanted to throw my arms around her, but there was work still to be done.   Couldn't 't dismount there without her thinking she might have instigated it, so we proceeded around to the far side of the circle, farthest from our house, where I halted her, slid off and fussed over her, praising and treating her til she was totally happy.  As I led her back to the house and barn, I got the feeling she'd have plenty of info to process.  Much more praise (but no treats) followed as I let her  back out into the paddock.  I'd survived my own foolishness, and managed to bring our all-important first ride to a successful end,  but I was counting my lucky stars once again, for a mule like Josie!

A hard-working mule!

I've Invented a New Word

I had my first little ride on Josie today, and all in all it was a good thing.  I have, however, invented a new word: "Mulehardy".  Mulehardy is the act of stubbornly insisting on an action that you have realized is unwise, with your mule.  In the past this has led me to point my horse at jumps whose height I could not judge--I have no depth perception-- resulting in several shocking but successful leaps,  before I learned to always walk my horse up to an unfamiliar fence, so that I could see where it came to on him.  Fortunately, my horses always  bailed me out and it only took about two times to cure me of that one.  I was not so lucky on my honeymoon when I rather recklessly thought I'd show my new husband--thank God he loves me anyway--how I could climb down a cliff in ill-fitting street shoes.  That time I broke my ankle, and I also realized that I was really too old for bone-head moves.  Most of the time.

Things have been going so well on the ground with Josie that I couldn't see anything standing between me and riding her, bar a little thing like lack of a pony girth.  I rode Willow stirrupless all this past year trying to balance my seat, which I think I succeeded in.  I did this in my ancient, beloved but worn out Prix de Saute, which is a close contact saddle, not blessed with knee or leg rolls, never mind a nice, deep seat.  Twenty years ago, the first time I sat on one, I thought my instructor was kidding expecting me to jump in it, when I'd always used my armchair Stubben Siegfried.  Once I got used to it I quickly became addicted to the feel of my horse's every muscle movement; I'd never felt more one with my horse. 

In applying this practice to Josie however, I forgot that a season of riding stirrupless in the Prix de Saute was really not like riding bareback, a talent I hadn't practiced in more years than I can count.

Of course, I put on my helmet and half chaps, as well as a neck strap on my maneless mule-ette.

                                                    To Be Continued

Mulish Observations (Part One)

I took about fifty pictures of Josie today, and ---with slight variations--- they all look similar to this!  I think it's safe to say, Josie has embraced the 'pocket pony' life.  On the plus side, doesn't she have a lovely eye? 

Today's plan was to see what, if any of my tack fit Josie-Posey.  She's  been ridden in a Western Curb, and is used to neck-reining in one, but I found that my only curb was too narrow at the top of the shanks, pinching her where it hangs from the cheek pieces.  That led me to my old german silver kimberwicke that I used on Woody.  For years it was the only 'english' bit I could stop him with.   It's a 5 1/2 inch bit, so really  bigger than Josie needs, but at least it doesn't pinch.  The dees are slotted for three options of rein placement, one of which has just a tiny bit of leverage; coupled with the chain on it I hope it will feel similar to her to what she's accustomed. 

Josie's winter coat is very vigorous and fluffy-- it's also a bit bristly!  It's kind of like a rough coated Jack Russell!   Is this a 'mule thing'?  Are mule's coats normally ruffled-up feeling?   It's really kind of cute, but startling, when you absentmindedly go to pet her expecting a smooth coat.

Wonders of Man and Nature

 Today WHS and I walked down along the creek, back to where an old hat factory (of all things) operated in the 1860s.  Even with the muted winter colors we still found many awe inspiring sights. 

These loblolly pines have grown entwined almost in a true-love knot. I've never seen adult trees that twisted on their own to such an extent.

Timbers and a few assorted metal remnants still lie under the waters of the creek, most only  visible in summer's drought.  Some of the timbers we saw today show the mortise-and-tenon joints used by woodworkers for hundreds if not thousands of years.  The 'mortise' was a square or rectangular hole chiseled or gouged into one  beam which would then hold the trimmed-to-fit end or 'tenon' of another beam.  Once the tenon end was inserted in the mortise hole, another hole would be drilled from the outside and a wooden peg inserted like a cotter pin to lock the joint together.  The picture below and left shows a tenon end with the hole for the pin to further lock it in to place. 

Part of the boiler

This ancient beam still in place on the creek bed shows the rectangular mortise holes that once anchored the tenons of vertical supports.

On the way back I was fully in "Claire Fraser" mode and the scent of a patch of wild ginger had me mentally brewing some for a restorative tea.  I've never even tried a ginger tea,  but  I've read much about its stomach-settling properties, and I know ginger essence works wonders for carsick dogs.

Walk Softly...

I stopped off at the feed store to get Josie a (big) rope halter and a new (big) feed tub,  because she  actually has to squeeze her eyes shut to get at the last of her grain in a regular sized flat backed bucket.  Unaccustomedly filled with Christmas spirit I decided that not only did Willow need his own  big feed tub, but the girls all should get presents, in the form of bully sticks.  I got five of the 16 inch kind, one for Daisy to have outside to her self, and four for in the house, insuring one for each. 

When WHS, Daisy and Pepper and I went for our walk, Daisy decided she had to bring hers along.  Proud and funny with it, she kept turning  back to show it to us (or Pepper) what a prize she had brought.  I thought her jaws might get tired from  being clenched for so long,  and after a while she  put it down, but Scott is a good daddy and good-naturedly volunteered to carry it back for her.

There's something so innocent and heartwarming about seeing a dog who's had a  big time and tired herself out doing something she loves sleeping with her current favorite prize.  It feels so good to make a dog happy, and it's so easy, they don't really need much to be content.  Just shelter, warmth, good food and someone to love, and we all become better people through our love for them. 

Josie and I Go For a Trail Walk

So, WHS and Josie and I went for a walk down the 'new woods road' today.

 It was fun, in a challenging kind of way, in that I haven't felt so like a small child attached to a determined pony in forty years!

  Josie was pretty good, over all, we just need to work on manners a little.  I have a real dislike of being dragged around and used to have my horses under chain shank until whenever they learned to be polite. (before I learned about rope halters)  This doesn't mean I actually used the chain, though it was over their nose, it just means we  both knew it was there and if they forgot they'd get a quick reminder until such times as they became pretty unfailingly polite. Now, Willow's rope halter doesn't fit Josie, and I no longer own a chain shank so I made shift by using a nylon hay string under a regular nylon halter, running it through the rings and behind her ears, and back down under her chin, and snapping the  cotton shank to it.

 Mostly, Josie just wanted to  bull along past me, and I spent a lot of time working on the word "slowly" accompanied by sharp enough tugs to get her attention.  Still, she made me really work at it, using most of my arm strength to stop her.  She also tried quite a few times to just do a u-ey and head for home, trying to get her way by pulling straight away from me, after spinning me 180 degrees.  I had pretty good success controlling that move by stepping into her and digging my elbow into her little ribs to turn her back toward me, where I had enough leverage to stop her. 

In my head I did see myself possibly waterskiing along  behind her, though it never actually happened, and I thanked my stars the ground was dry!  So after turning her back toward me, I administered a small but stinging slap to her side as I asked her to work around me a time or two.  I didn't want to over-discipline her,  but I needed her to understand quickly that this dangerous move was definitely not allowed.  I can flex a bit on leading at this point.  Eventually I want a horse to lead  with his head by my side, not passing me with it,  but to begin with I'll settle for a small reduction in speed at my insistence.   
All in all it was a good, if exhausting walk, although I couldn't shake the image of a fat, hairy little Thelwell pony dragging around a small plump Thelwell child!

My New Mule is Here-- FINALLY!

Introducing--  ** cue fanfare ** Josie!  I think perhaps I should call her my little 'mule-ette', she's so feminine.  Isn't she beautiful?  So far, she's everything I could have wanted or hoped for.  Although she was naturally a little pumped up from leaving her herd-mates by herself to go on a long lonely trailer ride, she was eminently sane upon her arrival here.  She marched --well, it would probably be more accurate to say she lead me-- up the hill to our little farm, where Willow was in for the surprise of his life.

"Mom, what am I supposed to do with this?"  Willow thought he'd push her around a little, show her who's boss.  WRONG!  Josie wasn't afraid of him, and she wasn't shy about telling him with both barrels.  This resulted in lots of his coming  back to me for reassurance that this newcomer was supposed to be here, as well as a budding respect for her mulishness. 

Maybe if I sneak up on her... carefully and politely?

"Don't even think about it, young man"

Willow's Dilemma

Willow is very polite and well behaved except for one thing; he's always had a bad pawing habit, which was not helped when I boarded him with some wonderful folks who brought pitchers of carrots to the horses in the fields every day.  Truly, it was horse heaven, and his pawing in anticipation was ignored.  It's the one behavior I haven't been able to modify to my satisfaction, he knows I don't want him to paw, and he's pretty good about not doing it when tied with just a reminder, but at meal times he just can't help himself.  The hole he's dug in his turnout stall is impressive, and annoying if you forget and step or slide in to it, which inevitably happens now and then.  I tried many methods to try to stop him during my feed prep, including bringing the whole process to a halt until he'd cease and stand away from his hole, but nothing really worked.   But now I think I've got it!  If I hear him paw, I stop and run at him, yelling. At first, he'd shoot out of his stall in  bug-eyed alarm.  Now, he's come up with his own solution, which I am kind of impressed with.

He waits for me in his stall, and when I enter the barn, he purposefully leaves it.  Willow prances, then trots, then canters back and forth in front of his stall until he hears me dump the feed, then he plows to a halt and walks quickly in for his meal.   He's totally unflustered during this, but impatience radiates from every muscle.  He's found his best solution.  Keeping still, and -- God Forbid!-- not pawing is just too much to ask, so he takes his impatience and energy outside.   I'm amazed he doesn't just go outside, out of my 'reach' and paw. 

Sunday Serenity-- Come for a Walk With Us!

Today, WHS and I decided to take advantage of the  beautiful weather and remaining colors to go for a family outing.

WHS carried along Buglet the Italian Greyhound who is our current special needs dog.  

Daisy the Super Dog showed Mimi the Italian Greyhound how to root and find tasty acorns.

Soon, Mimi ventured to acorn-hunt on her own, accompanied by Pepper, the mini Dachshund.

Mimi was a little tentative about moving on out on her first woods walk,  but slowly began to fall in with the rest of the pack.   Here, Daisy leads, followed by Max, the failed crack house Pittie, Mimi and then Pepper, who was not too sure about Mimi wearing her cape, but decided to share. 

Even Buglet was happy.   Of course, I'm pretty sure that this is how she feels life should be!

My Little Mule

Such a pretty face.   Doesn't she look like someone threw a bucket of white paint at her?

Isn't she beautiful?  Compact and sturdy, but still very feminine!  More than enough chrome to stand out but not enough to need sunglasses.  *smile*

27 more days....

Daisy The Super Dog is Disappointed, and the Golden Grape Leaves

Daisy:   Okay, I'm ready to be your navigator, Mom!

Daisy:   Shoot.  Isn't there somwhere you need to go?

Now that it's getting chilly during the day WHS leaves my car door open so Daisy can hang out in it.   She'd rather be in the car than in the house if she thinks there's the remotest chance someone might need her to navigate, and she's perfectly willing and happy to spend her day guarding the vehicles, either under or inside them.

Some of the prettiest fall sights around here are the graceful -- and plentiful--  grape vines trailing the last of their yellow leaves.

Macro Monday-- Flower Stills

A lovely purple zinnia, and two equally lovely flowers whose name has flown from my brain like a witch on her broom.  Aaagh.    And I only just turned 50 a week ago!    Can I plead Halloween candy overload? 

Everything looks just a little past its prime, doesn't it?     Days like today, I know the feeling.    Still have most of my petals, if they are a little scuffed! 

My Name is Randy, and I'm a Plantaholic

It's the time of the great migration around here.   Except this year, somehow I've got two houses worth of tender plantlings to bring inside for the winter.   The ones that made the cut, I mean.    I just don't have room for all of them, but I feel guilty consigning some to a frosty death.  How could I have brought them up with no thought for their future?    I am a bad plant-mom.     I am a backyard plant breeder!   EEK!!

Saturday Serenity-- Come for a Walk With Me

Fall colors are just kicking into high gear, and my Wonderful Husband Scott ( who, I think, will hereafter be referred to just as "WHS" ) and I decided to go for a leisurely stroll.  Most of the Eastern Seaboard is preparing for its first winter storm, but here in Eastwood the Rice Crispies rustle of autumn leaves is still perfectly undisturbed. Of course, Daisy the Super Dog made sure we didn't get lost.





Are you coming?

Goodbye to the fall....

How a Hard Working Dog Takes Her Rest

                         Daisy: I believe I'll just put my feet up here for a bit.

Back in the Black and White Days...

Okay, here's a blast from the distant past of 1975, my bestest friend since first grade Toni and me on my 2nd horse, Tonka.  Tonka was a grade Quarter Horse my dad bought from a neighbor for $250, up $100 from the cost of my first horse.

How carefree we were back then, relaxing bareback on the porch 

yes, on the porch

at my house.  Hard hats were for lessons or shows, as were boots and long pants.   Late June shows our summer uniform.  We spent countless nights racing our ponies up and down the local golf courses--- we thought they were just perfect for moonlight gallops!   We swam our ponies in the golf course "cement ponds".... funny how horses seem to like to leave their floating poops in deep water!    I guess ignorance was bliss, but we ran wild for quite a while before somehow being caught. 

The best times of my life!

Wordless Wednesday

Daisy the Super Dog

Daisy is our Farm Manager and Security Supervisor, in charge of protecting each and every one of us from dangers we don't even know about.

  Daisy sees all and knows all.  She feels a deep sense of responsibility toward all the farm animals as well as her humans.  She even protects, and when the time comes, mourns the ones she doesn't like.

 The first time we lost a dog after acquiring Daisy, she jumped into the grave we dug, and had to be forcibly removed.  Once extracted, she stood over the blanket-wrapped body and let out a howl I've never heard before or since.  It was a heart-wrenching, desolate sound that seemed to go on and on.  And this was a dog she only seemed to tolerate as one of her minions.  But one of her family was gone.   That's when we knew Daisy was something truly very special, even for a dog.

Sunday Stills-- Berries and Foam

This is "Hearts a Bustin", or Strawberry Bush, but I think Heart's a Bustin is more evocative. It does look like it might make a suitably gory Halloween accessory, pinned to the chest of the doll who has everything, doesn't it? What are crazy aunts for, if not to scar little children for life?   ** evil grin **

The foam accumulates below our old wooden dam, in eddies and inlets where the overflow from the grist mill used to fall. The pattern just entranced me.