I still have a long way to go, although I have a great instructor. In Sunday’s lesson, Carol had me side pass Missy along a ground rail, and with a few glitches we managed quite well.What was interesting to me is that I was able to give Missy the cues because I had internalized them a lot more than I thought I had and with a few exceptions she responded to my leg and hands. She’s a good little mare. Prior to taking Western lessons with her, I had ridden her English and she is not very happy with an English bit at all. And while she can jump, she doesn’t like it. She’s a different horse under a Western saddle.

Carol took a few photos because I am having trouble keeping from leaning to the inside. It was really illuminating, to see how much I lean in. I’m not showing you those photos, but take my word for it. Having the photos to refer was really eye-opening. With luck I can retrain myself fairly easily to keep straight and square.

Missy and me. She's a really sweet little mare.

Missy is a well-trained Western mare who I ride English, and she is willing to take my cues even though it’s all so different.  She has a very bouncy trot but I managed to get her into a sitting trot and it was comfortable and collected. She had her neck bowed very nicely for some of it.

We cantered and jumped a little, and poor thing. She’s really not a very good jumper. She sort of flings herself at the cross rails in a desperate attempt to get everything over. She’ll learn and she’s a good sport, but for right now, she’s like agh! Gotta get my legs and butt over this somehow!

I am set up for Aggiecon for the weekend and yes, I am looking forward to it. If you are going to be there, see you this weekend!

Alice and her owner. She is a very pretty mover. Look at her extension here.

She was way too spirited for me, and didn’t like direct reining at all. Since I’m not that proficient with neck reining, she took that to mean she didn’t have to listen to me. All she really wanted to do was walk over to her guy and be with him. I joked that he couldn’t sell her. How could he sell a horse that loved him that much?

Alice with me in the saddle. Fun to ride, but again, would have preferred an English saddle to get a better feel for her.

Pepi was a lot easier to get along with. She was sweet and docile, which was cool, and since she had little training, I probably could retrain her English. She didn’t really understand direct reining, but she was willing to go with it. You could tell that she was eager to please.

Pepi was a lot more calm but she didn't know all that much. The upside is that I could probably retrain her pretty easily.

We rode in their arena and then went out for a trail ride in the woods behind their place. A lovely ride, and Pepi was sweet, but I’m still not sure. I could work with her, but they said she might have some teeth problems (if you look at the pictures you can see she is wearing a hackamore, a bitless bridle, so as not to aggravate her mouth) and so I’d have to have a vet take a look. Of course I’d have her vetted completely.

I think, though, that I’m going to have to stop looking at horses that I would have to “convert” from Western to English. For instance, no way would Alice be comfortable with that. And while Pepi was pretty untutored in anything, and thus would be easier to retrain, I think I can get a horse that I don’t have to do that much work with.

I also have to say that I really prefer to ride English. We were chatting after the ride and the man said that he didn’t understand how people rode English, there just didn’t seem to be anything to hang on to. I told him that I preferred to ride English because a Western stock saddle is just too much saddle between me and the horse. I can’t feel the horse, and I bounce around way too much, and it just doesn’t feel right.  I just think I’d get a better feel for whether a horse is right for me if I could ride English to begin with, rather than trying to guess whether it would work out.

Spice. Is it just me, or does she look exactly like Mojo?

My husband and I drove out to Kingsland out past Marble Falls to look at a horse. It’s about a 90-minute drive outside Austin, and on a beautiful winter day (all the snow is gone and it was sunny, breezy, and about 70 degrees) it was a perfect day for a Texas country drive. Plus, in Marble Falls, there’s pie at the Blue  Bonnet Cafe. We picked up a peanut butter and a pecan pie. There’s always a reason for pie.

Spice under saddle with me.

Spice is about 8 years old, just about 15hh, a lovely quarter horse. But she’s very Western, which I am not, and fairly green, which I am too, and green horse, green rider, is a bad combination. She is super sweet though. Kayla, the young lady who showed her to us, put her through her paces and then I rode her at the walk and the trot. I didn’t want to canter because the stirrups were too long (even after being adjusted to their highest hole), and it looked as if she needed to be run into a canter as she still hadn’t had much practice with aids.

Did I mention she was sweet? Oh man, she was a nice horse. But notice in the pics how low she holds her head. I tried to encourage her to lift her head but it made her uncomfortable and I didn’t want to try to force her to do anything she didn’t want to. She would be a good Western pleasure horse, and she’s so quick on her feet she would make a good cutting horse. Neither of those things is anything I’m planning on doing, so I decided to pass.

Spice with Kayla. See how low Spice is holding her head.

But if you know someone looking for a young, willing, super eager to please quarter horse mare, let me know and I will pass you on to Kayla.

Side note: This was a great little farm. They had a pet muntjac and lemurs. Also a bison. Seriously, how many places do you know that have lemurs? I’ll put up pictures of those in the next post.

PS. Click on photos for a larger view.

So the first horse is Gus. He’s about 10 years old, a fleabitten gray, 15 hands, grade (meaning no particular breed). Owners call these horses Heinz 57, and indeed they are many varieties. Gus is probably part quarter-horse and possibly Arab, though it’s hard to tell. When he was being made to run in the ring to get some of his extra energy out, he had his tail up and head up like an Arab, and his trot floated.

Pros: Kind. Excellent ground manners. Inquisitive, smart, and sweet. He’s a people pleaser. I’ve ridden him in lessons and I like him.

Cons: Will need training over fences. We popped him over a few jumps and he did okay. This is actually a very small drawback. I am not looking for a 3 foot 6 jumper so that’s not too bad. He is however uneven in his gaits and doesn’t know how to collect himself, was very difficult to canter on his left lead (and it wasn’t just me, my instructor also had trouble). Finally, the owner is asking too much. All of the above is workable, except that his price is too high.

So I’m still looking. I’ll remember to bring a camera next time to document the search.

Here’s what I’m looking for (and Gus was almost there):

About 15 hands, excellent manners, sweet disposition, 6-10 years old, and a horse I can grow with as a rider but who knows more than I do. Must be able to go in the ring or on the trails. Mare or gelding, don’t care as to breed or color. So if you are reading this and you know a horse like this in Central Texas, let me know.

In other news, work on Kate’s book is coming along nicely. Word count stands at about 86,000 words. I’m in the end game. Plus, I almost know how it’s going to end. At least I have it in broad strokes, but I’ve been surprised before. This is why I don’t understand people who outline everything.  I know that it works for them, and probably they have the same feeling of everything clicking that I do when I wing it, but still — if you know how it’s going to go, why bother writing?

Jim C. Hines, author of several fine fantasies, has a serious blog post about sexual harassment at World Fantasy Con. This is sad and disturbing, because the alleged perpetrator is someone using his power imbalance (he’s an editor) to prey on writers and aspiring writers. This is not someone who is clueless about social mores, as the stereotype of the science fiction community goes. He knows very well what he’s doing, who to victimize, and how to get away with it.

I love science fiction and fantasy, love what I do, and love meeting the smart people who come to science fiction conventions. When a city hosts a big convention, the collective IQ of the metropolitan statistical area rises by at least 20 points for the weekend.

But — it’s also an antiquated, insular, and sexist community, and has been ever since the halcyon days of fandom (either the 1930s through the 1960s, or the age of 12, depending on who you talk to).  Add in the fact that you have a convention that is part social gathering and part professional conference, and you have a chaotic, schizophrenic situation. With LARPing.

I hope that the editor has been made to understand that people are on to his game and he cuts it out. I’d like it better for someone to kick him in the balls, but I’ll take him stopping.

On another note, my sister sent me this article from The Wall Street Journal:

Does Her Face Foretell Her Fate

This beautiful compelling photo, one of the most famous of the photographic work done during the Depression by Walker Evans and others, shows a young girl, age 10, and her determined, open, guileless mien. She clearly made an impression on Evans and you can’t turn away from her gaze from 70 or so years ago. Once again, she reminds me that you can’t make up people as good as the real thing.  Strive for reality and your fantasy will come alive.

Finally, I rode tonight! And jumped! It’s been around a year since I began riding after a very long hiatus. It wasn’t too many months ago that I couldn’t consistently nail a canter depart, to my chagrin (I finally had to go onto Wikipedia and read the instructions. Yes, even though my instructor had been telling me over and over the correct cues, I had to read them before I could get it down. I think we know how I learn things.).

It’s been exciting, and I always come home in a lighter, happier mood. There’s nothing like hanging around with horses to make me happy.

Do what makes you happy!

Patrice

I rode Bowie, a red and white paint. Not Frisbee; I think I need to catch you all up on things because sadly, I no longer ride Frisbee.

You see, his spookiness had progressed to the point in which he had become too dangerous for me. The final straw came when I was trotting him in a lesson and someone dropped something in the office next to the arena, and he shied violently sideways. He went sideways, I, rather like Wile E. Coyote, stayed put. Down I went. It wasn’t a bad fall, but the owner said, no more, he’s too dangerous.

Well, too dangerous for me. Another rider is working with him, and she said she might send him to a trainer for some extra tuition. Poor guy. He really needs consistent work, and with the weather being so crappy for so long he wasn’t getting that. Listen to me, complaining about rain in Texas. I know, I know, totally ungrateful. At least it appears that things are drying up now though.

So, my lesson on Bowie was really positive. For one thing, he’s bombproof, which I need right now. Also, as Kaylana pointed out, he is really out of shape because of the aforementioned lack of consistent work, so at the level I’m at — flat work only — he’s going to gently get back into condition. The benefit is that I know how to work him, since I have that experience, I just don’t have the recent practice. So it’s a win for both of us. He gets an experienced rider whose  head, at least, knows what to do, but he won’t be pushed too hard.

I don’t have the same instant connection that I had with Frisbee, but I like him a lot and you can tell he’s sweet.

The lesson itself was a lot of trotting and legwork. He doesn’t move into his corners and bend properly, which is the lack of conditioning, so I got a lot of practice on correct aids. He started to bend quite nicely in big circles and I could feel him loosen and his head went down into a very nice arc a few times, so he was getting it. Then we cantered a bit but I’m all disorganized. Still, though the canter depart was a bit messy, he did get it eventually. Or rather, we got it.

So there you have it — from a horse that was too much for me (and I still feel bummed about that, I don’t think I’ll get over it for a while, but I do understand it was the right thing to do) to a horse that is what I need right now. And I think I can do right by Mr. Bowie himself, by providing him the kind of rider he needs.

At that point the weather was beautiful: sunny, cool, and only slightly windy. When it was my turn to ride in the pen (which is 40 feet in diameter, so a decent size) I led him in and mounted and began to move him out at a walk.

Not five minutes later the weather turned. A HUGE gust of wind came down, the skies clouded over, and the temperature plummeted. A Texas norther had just blown in.

Well, shoot. Frisbee’s biggest fear is wind, because it blows stuff around, stuff that might LEAP OUT AT HIM AND EAT HIM ALIVE !!!! AGHHH!! So that sucked. And sure enough, a rag left hanging on the wash stalls fluttered and he leaped to the side.

But I was determined, so I kept him walking and trotting and doing circles and figure eights and serpentines (not easy in this pen) and so he had to think and pay attention to me instead of the wind. I was planning on at least making him work up a sweat, but decided that it was better to make sure that he was settled and calm under saddle so I rode for less than half an hour.

But boy I was attentive. I had to keep an eye on him plus the entire environment so I could anticipate a sideways leap, while at the same time insisting on his attention on me. (He does this crouch and swoop move that is pretty impressive.) So in a way, I was attuned to his way of thinking, in which everything is a potential threat. It was tiring, living on nerve endings that way, but also exhilarating. We tend to tune the world out, but I had to consciously tune in to everything.

All in all, it was a good ride. I am looking forward to getting back into the main ring and actually doing some real work on horseback. But this is Texas, in winter, and you take what you can get.

Well, first the lesson was mine. When a 1,000 pound horse goes in one direction and you try to pull in the other, guess who wins? I’ve been icing my arm after hyperextending my elbow with that little escapade. This was because he went for some grass when I was bringing him out of his pasture. To ensure that didn’t happen again, I was quite firm with him afterwards.

As I was tacking up, everyone was telling me how spooky he’s been lately. Apparently he dumped a little kid in the round pen, so something is definitely up.  One of the other riders was saying she was concerned it was a vision thing, which I admit I was thinking it might be too. He’s about 14 or 15 years old, according to my revised understanding. It could be.

So I took him out in the ring and walked and trotted him, making sure he yield properly. The spooky parts of the ring that he hated, like the propane tank in the yard outside the ring, any of the corners, and the porch overlooking the ring, I made sure we stayed to the inside, all the while making sure that he didn’t get a chance to spook.

When it was clear that he was calm I took him in the corners, in front of the porch, and by the freaky frightening propane tank. And he did fine. He bent to my rein and was very supple.

We finished by going over cavaletti. I didn’t canter, because I wanted to make sure we ended on a good note.  So he got a half-hour workout, nothing too much, mostly mental for him.

And he did fine.

So while it might be that it’s his eyes, and it might be he’s just getting fearful in his old-ish age, I think it’s a matter more that he just needs the work.

We’ll see. Unfortunately, I probably won’t get a chance to ride this weekend because of the weather, but at least I got a bit of a workout in for him.