Because you asked ~ Lucy's Tack

Last Saturday's encore post elicited a new bunch of questions from your inquiring minds, 

and a few of you wanted to know about Lucy's tack. I love me some tack talk, 

so I took my camera with me when I got Lucy ready for our Sunday ride.

I tack up Lucy on the back porch, also known as the "horse porch." 

The horse porch adjoins the garage, where I store my tack to keep it relatively dust-free.

Alan always follows Lucy and I as we leave the corral 

and makes me feel guilty for not taking him with us.

Anyway, this is Lucy's halter. It's a Brad Cameron mule halter and was part of her trousseau.

It's basically a rope halter, but it has a metal clip where you would normally tie a knot,

the idea being that mules/donkeys can be headstrong and might pull back so hard 

that you'd never be able to untie the knot. Lucy, of course, would never dream of such bad behavior. 

The clip does make it easier for neophyte ranchsitters to use it.

 This is Lucy's saddlepad. It is cut to conform to the mule saddle she wears.

It is made by Reinsman, and I love love love it.

 The backing is whatever this stuff is called. Ticky tack? Tacky tick? Something like that.

All I know is it stays in place like velcro.

Here is Lucy wearing her Steve Edwards "Cowboy" model mule saddle. It fits her perfectly.

Saddle-fitting a donkey can be very tricky. I got lucky when I was saddle-shopping for Lucy

and was able to try this one before I bought it. (Here's a link with that whole story.) 

It has many useful D rings, to which I've attached lots of saddle strings

(for tying on all the bones and other crap we bring home).

Now that Lucy's all dressed and ready to ride, it's time for me to put on my gear...

These are my beloved chinks. I do not leave home without them. They protect my legs

from all the cactus we rub up against and keep me from sliding around in the saddle.

I had them made about 12? years ago. They're buttery-soft elk leather and drape ever so beautifully.

 Lucy is happy to model them for you.

Lucy wears an Amish-made headstall designed especially for longears; it has a clip 

that unbuckles so that I don't have to fold and stuff those 14" ears under the crown.

I ride Lucy in a simple O-ring snaffle bit with a mecate, which is very handy

when I dismount to open gates and pick up bones. She neck reins better than most horses

I've known, and I ride her with a big sloppy rein and little to no contact on the bit.

 

 Lucy: Can we go now please?

The Buck stops here

The last time I hung out with Buck Brannaman was in April 2005, when I rode Lyle in one of his clinics. 

Since then, Buck's been the subject of a pretty popular movie and the whole world has discovered him; 

it's not every horse trainer that goes mainstream.

Buck was giving a clinic in Santa Fe over the weekend and I went up to watch. 

I'm happy to report that all the newfound fame hasn't seemed to change him a bit.

He may be driving a fancier rig, and his p.a. system doesn't squeal and spook Lyle your horse
when you ride past the speaker anymore, but he's still the same Buck. 

He's teaching the same stuff, telling some of the same bad jokes, and still making what he does with horses

look so damned easy, I could just scream because it's anything but.

As good as he was with horses back in 2005, he keeps improving, finding new ways to explain and share his knowledge 

so that his students can catch on a little faster and with a deeper understanding of how to train a horse to "follow a feel."

Buck got a little melancholy talking about his mentor, Ray Hunt, who passed on in 2009. 

He shared a lot of stories about his early days with Ray and how much practice it took for him 

to learn and master the things that he teaches today.

Watching Buck ride is nothing short of inspirational – you can't help but want to run right home 

and practice all the stuff you've learned. Lucy has no idea what she's in for.

Here Buck is giving his students their homework assignment –

it's one of the same assignments he gave to me and Lyle back in the old days.

We may not have mastered anything else at that clinic, but we aced this one...eventually.

Next time you see me climbing a fence to make a video, maybe I'll be getting Lucy to move it on over.

Look what the donkey dragged in

Two weeks ago, I decided that the bones of the northwest cow carcass (not to be confused with the southeast cow carcass) were ready to bring home. I tied a four-foot length of spinal column and ribcage to the back of Lucy's saddle, only to realize I couldn't swing my leg high enough to clear it. Alas, I abandoned the primo specimen for the time being while the little gears in my brain engaged to devise a way to get it home.

Fast forward to yesterday...

Lucy: Nope. Not gonna do it. If you want that thing, you have to drag it home.

Me: Lucy ... Lucy ... Lucy. This is an opportunity to give you a job, boost your confidence, add to your resumé. 

How many other donkeys can say they dragged a big hunk of cow carcass a mile and a half to satisfy the crazy whim of their keeper?

Lucy: You're freakin' nuts. You know that, right?

To get Lucy on board with my idea, I dragged the skeleton for a little ways while she walked alongside me. 

Once I was sure she wasn't afraid of being chased by the noisy, smelly cargo, I saddled up and off we went.

Lucy dragged that thing along like she'd been doing it all her life.

Lucy: I have never been so happy to get home. Now open that gate 

and bring me a carrot, an apple, and a handful of horse candy. It's the least you can do.

Me: Yes, ma'am.

Me: Sorry, Smooch. That's as close as you're going to get to dem bones. But if you're a good girl, 

when we go for our walk tomorrow, you can pick up all the spare ribs we left out on the trail.

Bette has my vote for America's Favorite Trail Horse

Saturday I hopped in the truck and headed over to the auditions for America's Favorite Trail Horse, a new reality tv series in the making, sponsored by the American Competitive Trail Horse Association. Petra Christensen, a regular reader and commenter on this blog, mentioned she would be coming down from Colorado for the event, and since I love putting names with faces, I jumped at the chance to meet her in person. As an added bonus, the event was being held at a facility where Lucy and I will be heading in May for a mule and donkey training clinic. I'd never been there and have been wanting to check it out.

The auditions took place in an indoor arena – not exactly home turf for a lot of these trail horses. Each horse and rider team was expected to trot over a set of six poles, trot to another pole, come to a stop, then sidepass over it to the right, then back a figure eight around two cones. The rider then had the option to showcase their horse for 45 seconds in a freestyle exhibition. Then came an interview with the judge, where the rider was given a few minutes to talk about why their horse was special.

As I watched the riders audition, of course I imagined how Lucy and I might do in such a competition. She would have sailed over the six poles in her pretty little gait, aced the stop and sidepass, and flunked the back-up figure eight (but we're working on that). The worst part for me would be the interview - I would be a blubbering mess trying to tell the judges why and how Lucy came into my life and what a one-of-a-kind donkey she is.

Anyway, I watched about half the riders, then headed outside to see if there were any interesting pictures to be taken there...

...whereupon I met Ashley (the rider), Bette (the Paint), and Milli Vanilli, aka Little Dude (the five-week-old colt whose daddy is a Friesian).

What's not to love about a five-week-old, well-mannered colt who can be ponied and stay out of trouble and not flip out over all the new stuff going on around him? Little Dude is who he is because Ashley is an amazing horsewoman and Bette is the most level-headed horse I have ever been around.

I asked Ashley if she had someone to babysit Little Dude while she auditioned on Bette (of course I was planning to raise my hand and volunteer). Ashley replied that she was planning to either pony the colt through the obstacles or just let him follow along, depending on what the judges would allow. Alrighty then! How cool would this be!

The trio lined up at the starting cones, and Ashley secured Little Dude's little lead line around his belly so it would stay out of his way.

Off they went, trotting over the six poles. Little Dude may have missed a few, but Bette aced them.

Little Dude was very impressed with Bette's sidepassing ability.

As Bette was backing her figure eight, Little Dude was getting thirsty and hoping his mom 

would stop long enough for him to get a drink. No such luck.

He took a pee break, then realized his mom was now at the other end of the arena and he was all by his lonesome. 

I would show you the picture of him running to catch up but it's a total blur...the little guy is fast!

So now it's time for Ashley to do her freestyle. We've all seen riders stand up on their horses' backs 

to demonstrate how calm and steady their horses are...

...but how many times have you seen a rider stand on her head on her horse's back...with the horse wearing the rider's hat on its butt and nursing her colt at the same time? As one of the judges said, "Now there's a mare that can multitask."

Bette has definitely got my vote for America's Favorite Trail Horse. I'm certain she'll move on to the next round of the competition, and I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she wins the whole thing.

Saturday encore ~ How to tie a quick-release knot

A funny thing happened after I posted this entry in June 2008 - people who googled "how to tie a quick-release knot" started to visit the 7MSN. And 18,221 people have watched this knot-tying tutorial on YouTube. Or maybe one person watched it 18,000 times trying to get it right. Whatever. It's one of my favorite videos, and it's certainly my favorite knot. Go grab a lead rope and practice it with me.

Having horses means expanding your knot repertoire beyond the one you put in your shoes. You may want to tie your horse to groom him or to saddle him; if you travel with your horse, you may need to tie him to the trailer; at some point on a long trail ride, you may need to tie him to a tree so you can ... well, you know.

Knowing how to tie a quick-release knot will keep you and your horse out of all kinds of trouble. Like the kind of trouble you might get into when you rob a bank. You want to use a secure knot, so that when you come a-runnin’ out of the bank your horse is still there, yet you want to be able to untie it really fast so the sheriff won’t catch you. So come with me as I demonstrate how to tie my all-time favorite quick-release knot, “The Bank Robber Knot.”



Now go grab a lead rope and the back of a chair so you can watch this video and practice with me. The secret to knot-tying success is to practice it, over and over and over again.

(In case the FBI is monitoring this blog, no banks were robbed in the making of this video.)

Does Ft. Worth ever cross your mind?

I got an e-mail last week about the Ray Hunt Memorial Clinic, A Tribute to the Legacy of a Legend, in Ft. Worth on February 27 and 28, 2010. I've been thinking about going ever since. It's only 756 miles from here. Ouch.



You can click here for more details, but a bunch of Ray's students (including Buck Brannaman, Martin Black, Peter Campbell, Tom Curtain...the list goes on and on) have been invited to demonstrate how they work with a young horse. They were chosen and are being honored for their dedication to the horse and to Ray's legacy. Far from a colt-starting competition, each presenter gets 45 minutes to work with a horse they've never met and will be critiqued by a panel of judges and the audience on the basis of who best employed Ray's methods and teachings. And the winner gets ... are you ready for this? ... Ray's saddle. Yowsah. The opportunity to watch all these guys (and one gal - Lee Smith) at one event is almost more than I can stand. The website does mention the possibility of a DVD being produced, so purchasing that will be my plan B. But plan A, a road trip to Ft. Worth, sounds like way more fun...except for the 756 miles part.

Horsemanship Through Life

I've been to probably a dozen horsemanship clinics over the last ten years, and they've all been pretty similar. A whole bunch of riders from all disciplines and at all levels of ability gather in an arena. There's a lot of nervous energy buzzing around as participants and their horses adjust to the environment. The clinician philosophizes on horsemanship, shares his experiences and knowledge and takes questions, often for extended periods of time, while the riders get anxious and just want to start riding. Then the clinician leads the participants through various maneuvers, all directed toward developing softness in their horses. This goes on for two or three days, and everybody goes home full of knowledge and enlightenment and sometimes with a softer horse. I have benefited immensely from every clinic I've attended as a participant or as an auditor and wouldn't trade those experiences for anything...

...anything except the experience of participating in one of Mark Rashid's clinics. Now that I've been to the other side, there may be no turning back.



Everything about a Rashid clinic is different except the subject matter. There are only eight riders, and each one receives about an hour of one-on-one attention from Mark each day, followed by an hour with Mark's wife, working on the lessons just learned.



Each individual's hour starts the same way. Tell us about your horse and what you'd like to work on.



Mark quietly listens and observes. To evaluate where you are with your horse, he might ask you to do a few gait transitions, then stop and back your horse. He has a remarkable ability to pinpoint the root cause of a problem, which this day included everything from a rider holding her breath, to a horse holding his breath, to a rider unknowingly using a particular bit which was confusing the heck out of her horse and causing all sorts of discomfort.




He works with each rider patiently and respectfully, with a calm and quiet energy that defines him, his horse, and even his dog. He practices his horsemanship through his life – being a better horseman makes him a better person and vice versa.



And you gotta love the guy's dry wit. I think his exact words to this rider were, "You're going to need to breathe at some point...whenever you get a chance." He must have said this at least once to all the riders, and I laughed every time. Had I been riding, I'm sure he would have said it to me, too.



What I think sets Mark apart from all of today's clinicians is his knowledge of how the rider's energy and focus has everything to do with the horse's actions and reactions – good and bad. He can articulate and demonstrate these principles to his students, who are able to apply them and get immediate changes in their horses and themselves.



As much as I wanted to ride in this three-day clinic, auditing it for one day was a perfect introduction to Mark's unique brand of horsemanship. I'll spend the next eight or nine months trying to incorporate his methods in my own riding...and looking for a ranchsitter... with the goal of attending one of his week-long sessions in Colorado next summer.

High Five

What an amazing day...even Mark's dog thought so.

I'll be back with stories and pictures from the Mark Rashid clinic once I download my brain and my camera.

Considering the Horse

"Before we can expect our horses to offer the best of themselves, we must first find the way to give the best of ourselves to them." Mark Rashid


Today is a big day, a very big day. I am on my way to Santa Fe to meet Mark Rashid, a horseman I have wanted to ride with since the day I read the first page of his first book. By the time I learned about the clinic he was holding, the rider slots were full, so I am going to sit on the sidelines and soak up every ounce of knowledge he offers up. Oh, and take pictures, of course.

Mark doesn't have a show on RFD-TV; he doesn't have an online club to join; he doesn't have a line of tack or equine accessories that carry his name. But I think he has more wisdom about horses and getting along with them than all the other modern-day horsemen out there. He's a born storyteller and has written a pile of books - they're not "how-to" books, just stories about the horses he's met, the mistakes he's made, and the lessons he's learned.


I've learned more about horses from Mark's books than from all the other sources I have tapped, and there have been many. I expect I'll come home tonight bursting with knowledge and insights to help me be a better horseman.

Look out, Hank and Lyle, you may not recognize me.

Saying hello to Mr. Fancypants

When Mr. Crankypants and I went to last weekend's horsemanship clinic, my primary goal was an attitude adjustment – to learn some things to help me bring out the best in Lyle and earn his cooperation. I wasn't expecting overnight miracles.



But a funny thing happened yesterday on our first ride since coming home. Mr. Crankypants didn't show up. That's not to say he won't walk out of the barn next time, but still, his total disappearance was quite unexpected.



About 20 minutes down the trail, something even more unexpected happened. Maybe you saw it – that explosive glow over the state of New Mexico when the bazillion-watt bulb lit up over my head? At the clinic, Tom pointed out to me something I was doing with my inside leg on a particular maneuver that was getting in Lyle's way. Yesterday, I connected the dots and realized I was doing that same thing almost every time I asked for any turn. The very second I stopped doing it, I got Lyle's power steering back.



Why didn't you say something, Lyle? Why didn't you tell me I was being an idiot and blocking you from doing the very thing I was asking you to do?

Oh, but I did. You just weren't listening.



Mr. Fancypants and I spent the rest of our ride dancing and gliding around trees and cacti, having the time of our lives, and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day. All the things I had learned over the years – the horse is never wrong, it's a feel following a feel, give something you never gave and you'll get something you never had – took on new meaning because Lyle and I were in yet another new place. That's why I love this horsemanship stuff – it's a journey that's never going to end, and I learn something every stop along the way.

Lyle's Curtain Call

We were all a little worried the night before the Tom Curtain horsemanship clinic. Lyle was stressing about being in an arena for two days, Hank couldn't bear the thought of Lyle being gone, and when I told Smooch she would be sleeping on the back porch instead of my bed, you'd have thought the world was coming to an end. I had my own list of worries and fears, but it did not include "horse trailer light failure at 5:30 am halfway to Albuquerque." I thought about waking up the guy who had recently rewired the trailer and demanding he come fix it, but instead twiddled my thumbs in a parking lot for an hour waiting for the sun to come up.



Despite the setback, Lyle and I arrived bright and early and still had an hour to chill out and recover from the trip.



The clinic was held in a huge, beautiful outdoor arena at the village park, lined by tall trees which provided some welcome shade in the afternoons. Gorgeous green soccer fields adjoined the arena, and this being Saturday, it was a busy place. Lyle had never experienced so much social interaction in all his life, and I was very proud of him for calmly handling the steady stream of bicycles, joggers, and dogs, and the cacophony of screaming children and their even-louder parents. He wasn't so proud of the way I was handling it and kept telling me to stop whining.



Most of the 16 participants were experienced clinic-goers, and it was a pleasure to be in the company of good riders who kept their horses under control and who respected each other's space. Tom was a long-time student of Ray Hunt and is a talented horseman in his own right. He tries to get his students to see things the way the horse sees them and uses lots of stories and demonstrations to get his points across.





At the beginning and end of every morning and afternoon session, we would circle up and he would ask each rider, "How you fixed?" (That's clinician-speak for what's working, what's not and do you have any questions.) And during the riding exercises, if he saw you struggling or had a suggestion to help you, he'd say, "come on over here and let's work on that." While I had plenty of questions of my own, I learned just as much from listening to his answers to other riders' questions and watching him work with their horses.



We worked a lot on moving and controlling the front and back ends of our horses separately to get them softer and lighter in our hands. Lyle was reasonably soft when we started out, but by the time we left, I felt how much softer he could be if I asked him correctly. It was a wow moment.

Now as for the demise of Mr. Crankypants... I had heard other clinicians say this same thing before, but it meant something different back then because Lyle and I weren't in the same place. So Tom says: When I was growing up and my dad asked me to take out the trash, I stopped whatever I was doing and took out the trash. There was no "I'll get around to it" like there is with kids today. And when we were going on down the road and there was a gate, I ran out and got that gate and ran to catch up with his truck to hop back in. I knew what was expected of me. Bet you didn't know this horsemanship stuff was so esoteric, huh?

The light bulb finally went off. Sometimes I'd been letting Lyle take out the trash on his own sweet time. And I was fearful of the consequences of asking him again, knowing we'd get into an argument I wasn't prepared for. So I worked on some rein management, getting quicker about gathering him up to deal with the consequences, and when he did say no, I let him know that wasn't an option. It didn't take but two or three reminders for Lyle to understand the new rules of the game. Now it's up to me to always play the game the same way.



At the end of the day, I trailered Lyle over to his motel. There was a mini-Hank stalled next to him to keep him company.



Sunday dawned just as bright and beautiful as the day before, and minus the soccer mayhem. Lyle's full attention stayed on me for the rest of the day, and we had many more wow moments.



The clinic was just the tune-up Lyle and I needed, and I can't wait to work on all the new things we learned. Mr. Crankypants will probably try to rear his ugly head again, but now I've got the knowledge and confidence to put him right back in his box.