Bits & pieces from the classics

Discovered while browsing my bookshelf this morning:

MENTAL HAZARD JUMPING

A jumping competition which tests the training of the horse. The jumps are not high but are peculiar. They may be such things as a wheelbarrow, a pair of chairs set seat to sear, a baby's bathtub filled with water, a bassinet, a row of pails hung on a rod which are rattled as the horse approaches, etc. One way of scoring this competition is as in golf. Each time a horse approaches a jump it is one "stroke," if he shies out or refuses it will cost him another "stroke." Thus the par of a ten jump course would be ten.

from the Horseman's Encyclopedia by Margaret Cabot Self (1946)

We once had to move crates of (highly agitated) live chickens from one barrel to another in trail class. I can vouch for the fact it was a LOT more entertaining for the spectators.

I also like this one:

MALLENDER

The mallenders are the chestnuts or small callosities appearing on the insides of the horses' legs. There is some disagreement as to exactly what these are, though some authorities feel that they are all that remains of the fifth toe of the prehistoric horse.

Never heard that name for them before.

Sunny it was not

But we did at least have mid-20's yesterday, so there were patches of melt water in the road and here and there in the lot. The horses' coats are noticeably starting to loosen as the days get longer. But on the news last night they predicted a cold and snowy March with below-average temps lasting through mid-April. Brrr! The Farmers' Almanac sure had it right.

It's not a Friday, but it's a Book Review

I haven't read a horse-related book in a while (although if you need some YA recommendations, I have a new batch of those...), but someone recommended this one to me and it sounded intriguing.

Actually, what I heard - although in hindsight, I don't think it's what the recommender said - was that this is a true story. While it seems fairly probable that some of the events, particularly the racetrack-related bits, may be based on events that may have happened somewhere to someone, 12 Miles to Paradise is definitely NOT non-fiction. Still...

12 Miles to Paradise: a people story about horses & horseracing by Ted Simendinger

Briefly, this is the story of a race horse that refused to run and what happened next. And it's what happens next, both to a not very fast, but very stubborn Whodathunkit, that kept me turning pages.

Like Ferdinand the bull, who only wanted to smell the flowers and ended up affecting far more lives than he knew, a grey gelding re-dubbed Bonefish changes the course of events for the residents of one whole island and several more people on two different continents.

The premise is absurd, the action is flatly unbelievable... and yet there's a ring to the events surrounding Bonefish particularly that shines 24 carat. (My own family has tales of the backstretch that at first hearing are as oddly unlikely, so who am I to cast doubt.)

In spite of the somewhat rough and ready delivery and a choppy narration (peppered with numerous trivial details and off plot meanderings), it's oddly charming and pleasantly memorable.

Simendinger is a motivational speaker who's written one other book (humorous short stories about people & animals, based on the description). He doesn't claim horse-expertise, and his bio makes no reference to horses at all, so if there are a few gaffs perhaps it's not surprising. Is this the best horse book I've ever read? No. But it's entertaining in an offbeat, oddball way.

My recommendation: don't run right out and buy a copy, but if you happen across it at your local library or swap-shop, give it a chance. You may find yourself smiling.

Warm weekend and worming accomplished

Small puddles on the sidewalks and sloppy country roads - yeah!

Not much sun to enjoy, but still the warmer temps and no wind makes a welcome change from the deep freeze. We got everybody wormed on Friday (except Rufus - I forgot the weight tape). They were, of course, thrilled.
They're all staying pretty much in line weight-wise with the notable exception being Sunny, who I think could gain weight on air. He's a tub.


Remember that children's picture book about the pigeon and the bus? Here it's cats that shouldn't drive tractors - lol!

Saturday I remembered the weight tape and the wormer, and Rufus took his medicine with minimal fuss. He's gained just over 100 lbs since we bought him. He's a little round now, but some of that will come off this spring when he's getting ridden again.
Speaking of round - there's enough burro there for two! Eeyore is definitely NOT going hungry.
J has new calves on the ground. New enough they still look like they're covered in crushed velvet. Very cute hopping around attempting to play king of the hill in the snowdrifts.

Not much else to report - and unexciting is just fine, thank you very much!

Safety first

Reading everyone's blog entries about riding has me feeling both jealous and guilty. Jealous because I can't wait for spring, guilty because I know even then I probably won't be riding as much as I should. Count me in on the whole "Shut up and ride" movement! (I really need that mug-lol)

But I'm consoling myself with the fact that even in the winter there's plenty to address on the learning and safe behavior front.

Mrs. Mom just posted on why
proper hoof-handling is critical
and how she prefers it to be taught,
- definitely worth reading.

I've been thinking about what and how I do things for a while now, and it seems to me that feeding time is another opportunity for reinforcing groundwork on plenty of levels.

Case in point: we move hay to the horses every day. They're loose. There are eight of them, and sometimes we feed in the dark with head lamps. Eight horses, darkness, slippery snow and a pitchfork could be very nasty very quickly.

Just as a basic rule,
horses need to respect people-space
even in the presence
of something desirable
like hay or (even more yummy) grain.

And for the most part the herd was pretty good about respecting us already. The real kicker - sometimes literally - was horse on horse action, not so much horse on human action. The first winter we fed daily (in previous years they had a round bale feeder, 24/7 access to hay and they did their own sorting out of who ate where) it took a number of days to reinforce the "thou shalt nots" of feeding time.

These are the rules:

• You will not run me (or anyone else) over when I'm moving hay.
• You will not run someone else over me when I'm moving hay.
• You will shift over if I need you to, even if there are four of you in my way.
• You all look horse-shaped in the dark, therefore you can all stand still while I use your shoulder, neck, butt as a prop to climb in and out of the feeder, (whether or not I'm balancing a pitchfork and wearing a headlamp) regardless of whether you've ever been ridden. In return I will try not to poke you with the pitchfork or shine the light in your eyes or fall down underneath you (but I can't promise anything).
  

How did we manage? Well, first of all, these particular eight horses are all relatively mature, have an established pecking order, and as I already said, on the whole they're pretty respectful of human space. All of those are important points, and if any of them weren't the case I 'd probably do things a bit differently at least to start with.

Some rules came with time - the headlamps, for example, we didn't end up introducing until the feeding routine was already well-established. The days simply got shorter and carrying a flashlight wasn't really workable. Had we shown up the first night in the dark and started roaming around with headlamps - even bearing food, they probably would have freaked. As it was, one night the feeders just showed up with lights on their heads. And it was no big deal.

The thou-shalt-not run over me or run anyone else over me rules took longer, and they still need reinforcing on occasion. I reinforce the same way I established them: when somebody forgets and needs a reminder that nastiness with people underfoot is not tolerated (usually Sunny or one of the middle mares), the reminder consists of me moving them.

I'm not loud, dramatic, angry-sounding or violent about it. I just emphasize what they elected to forget - that I, as the human, get to determine what space they get to occupy.

Here's how.

I stop what I'm doing, single that horse - let's call him Sunny - out and make him move for a minute or so. I don't run. I stay on the inside of the loose "circle" the herd forms around the feeders and insist Sunny stay outside it. He doesn't get to stop and eat, he doesn't get to hide among the other horses. He gets to travel, generally at a trot, but a good brisk walk is acceptable. I don't run or yell, I don't try to direct where he goes, I just keep him from stopping.

What are the rest of the horses doing?
Usually, ignoring the byplay completely.

After a minute or two depending - if he still has his ears cocked back and a snarky expression (that would mainly be Star) he gets to keep going - when he pauses and faces me, I'll stop too. If he stands, I'll walk up to his shoulder. If he moves off again as I walk up or makes nasty faces (Star), I go right back to keeping him moving. If he stands, I'll rub his withers and then walk away to whatever I was doing before. Initially it might take a couple of times a night, sometimes with the same horse, sometimes with several of them. As time went on I needed to remind them less and less and I was also using less pressure to send them off.

Now that the behavior pattern for feeding time is set, if they're all really antsy I can assume one of two things: either the weather is changing (easy enough to determine), or that I need to feed a bit heavier because they're hungrier than I'd like them to be.

It isn't a hard and fast cure-all: they still have preferred eating arrangements, favorite spots, and lunch buddies. Ears still get laid back and the occasional foot gets cocked when someone lower on the pecking order sticks their nose in where it's not welcome. And Sunny still migrates from feeder to feeder to see which one is best situated, out of the wind, or tastiest on any given day, moving the other horses as he does it because he is the "boss"(iest) horse.

But he (mostly) doesn't do it when I'm nearby.

As an overall strategy initially, the move-their-feet worked best with the horses that had some experience either on a longe line or in a round pen - they already knew how to move away from pressure. Those horses moved off more easily and faced up more readily. But regardless of past experience, they all learned. And I think if/when we get the others started with formal groundwork it will help us out there, too.

I don't presume to be a trainer or an expert horse-anything - this is simply what works for me with these eight horses. Reading Mrs. Mom's post I found plenty of food for thought, and not just on hoof handling. I'd love to hear other strategies for feeding groups - do you tie? Separate to feed? What's worked for you (or not) and why?