Escapee

     Over on Beautiful Mustang, Linda was talking about her wonderful four year old Mustang mare and how she has recently become quite attached to the herd she didn’t use to like. While in a stall run-in, she tried to climb the fence one rail at a time to get back to the main herd. Linda had posed the question to her followers about their experiences with ‘climbing horses’. This was my comment to her:

Yep, Mustangs are really, really good with their feet. Until Jesse reached her grown size, she would "climb through" our buck fence, literally, putting her feet in various places to walk right through the rails. When she got too big to do that (about 14 or so hands), she discovered she was strong enough to "pick up" the fence to get out. We had strung a hot wire around the fence to get her to quit going through, so she found the one little section by the feeder without a wire, put her head under the bottom rail, stiffened her neck and lifted, at the same time continuing to walk forward. The rail would slide down her neck onto her back as she lifted her head higher (lifting the entire fence for 3-4 sections). As she continued walking, the rail would slide along her back and drop off over the tail. Several times the neighbors called to say she was out wandering around and I would walk the fence line looking for a break in the wire or any sign of jump marks (she sails over things on a whim, also). Nothing. One slightly muddy morning I saw tracks that looked like she literally walked through the fence. How? A couple of days later, when I was out cleaning the corral, I noticed the fence 'wiggling' and turned around in time to see it thump off her butt. She looked at me like she wanted me to know how it was done; just stood there then walked over to the gate to be let back in!!! Now this is not a small fence, made up of 12 ft. poles, with posts about 8 ft. apart and 4 ft. high, crossed in and out at the center with about a 3 ft. spread at the posts - a pretty normal mountain cross-buck fence. Imagine its weight and you know how strong these guys are. Oh, and don't let the old horse guys tell you a horse can't go under something lower than its withers. If I tell Jesse to duck, she will splay out her front feet to lower her withers and wiggle forward, lowering her butt to get under just about any hitch rail we've been around. Something she learned crawling through the fence. You have to work really hard to stay ahead of the young ones.

     Now, Jesse has always been a Houdini. I had gotten her at five months old and before she was a year, she had proven difficult to keep in any enclosure. A trainer friend told me to teach her tricks. ??? He said that for every 10-15 minutes a day you work with them, they will spend the next 24 hours working the trick out in their head. Sure enough, as long as I spent time with her on a fairly daily basis, she was no longer a problem. However, when we would get extra busy at the Lodge, Jesse would be seen more and more around the neighborhood, sampling their grass. As she got older and bigger, her escape methods became more sophisticated, hence the fence “pick-up” (at about age 5 – 6 yo). I thought she was just ultra smart, however, after going to a clicker training clinic with a friend I learned that clicker training helps them to learn a sort of cognitive-type thinking. It encourages them to ‘think’ and try new methods to get the outcome they want – a treat. Now don’t just think food when you hear the word treat. In true clicker training, a treat can be anything the horse likes; some grass, a goodie, a rest from pressure, etc. I had used clicker training for Jesse and she is a thinker, so in my opinion, I have a pretty smart horse that has been trained better “learning patterns”.

     All I can say to Beautiful Mustang and her person is you have a lot of fun and challenges ahead of you.  Enjoy every minute.

Juanita

Endurance Rider Wannabe

Endurance Rider Wannabe
     I just finished reading Funder’s Rides of March 2011, and it again has me fantasizing over the endurance thing. From the time we bought our first Mustangs, 11 years ago now, I have had this fantasy. Early on, I would rent videos on endurance training and watch them over and over, then dream of the rides at night. Of course, reality hits really, really hard, when your sane brain tells you that you missed the boat.
     Reality #1: we own a lodge that is 24/7, seven days a week, for all the good rideable months, namely May through mid-October. How do you possibly get enough ride time in when there is barely enough time to breathe some days? We were lucky to break away an hour here or an hour there just to get our mustangs trained.
     Reality #2: I was 50 when we got our boys in ’99 (yeah, do the math), and just re-learning to ride. I did not grow up on horses; had only had the occasional livery ride on vacations, so I was on this huge learning curve. I have still never had any riding lessons, although I would die to do that. I HAVE had some really great training horses teach me lots…and the absolute best terrain to learn riding and balance skills as a must. Hitting the ground in the good ole Rockies is not a fun thing to do especially when you have reached the stage in life where ‘bouncing’ up off the ground is not an option.
     Getting back to Funder’s ride…First off, loved the braids. My Jesse Mustang has lots of hair, too, but hates braids. She loves to have her mane brushed. You can stick any sort of pretty bands and stuff in it, but d o n‘ t braid the mane! Many mornings I have watched her stand with her head into the wind so her mane blows out behind her, like some wild stallion, and I swear, a smile on her face. It must be the feeling of freedom thing.
     My next observation was the kicking over the girth. Is this a normal thing that hasn’t been worked out yet, or was she saying she had a bit of a bellyache from all the hay/travel/stress of first ride? Maybe even a travel induced ulcer? This is always a concern of mine, as we haul our horses really long distances. It is not unusual for us to drive 15 hours at a time, to ride new areas. Yes, we stop every two hours for a horse break of at least 20 minutes, to let their legs rest and get water. All three of ours love to travel and will practically open the gate and load themselves when they hear the trailer hook up to the truck. My daughter’s horse will stress herself out on even the shortest ride. Just different personalities.
     I had many, many smiles over all the references to Robin Hood Mustang. So much of what Funder says has become ‘normal horse behavior’ to us with our Mustangs. They have a brain between those ears…and they love to use it. Once their job is learned, i.e., endurance training, trail riding, working cows, whatever, they then insert their own smarts, like Hood becoming Dixie’s self-appointed chaperone. I can be the lead wrangler on a dude trail ride and just sit backwards on Jesse, talking to the guests the whole time, because she regulates the speed of the ride (so no large gaps or crunching-together occurs) and makes sure everyone stays in line where they belong, with just a flick of an ear or the evil eye to the doer of misdeeds. I have had her stop dead in the trail, and when I would verbally ask her what was wrong, she would reach around and touch my cinch. When I got off to check my cinch, she started walking back along the line of horses until about the fourth horse back, she stopped and touched that horse’s cinch with her nose. Yep, that cinch had loosened. Maybe, because horses are so tuned in to body language, she had noticed that horse moving differently. I don’t have a clue how she would know; maybe the horses have a way of communicating among themselves, but it saved us a spill that day. I ALWAYS try to figure out what she is trying to tell me when she doesn’t want to do it my way. She has always had a reason.
     I had a really good laugh over Hood, the up-hiller. Bill’s horse, Ranger, is so such a poop to ride with on our steep hills. Like Hood, he can plow down anything and then just marches up the next hill like it doesn’t exist. At the top, he takes one deep breath, and says, “OK, let’s go!” The domestics with us are standing there sucking in deep breaths of air like it is their last. Ranger does not particularly like waiting around for them, although he has learned to be patient…mostly.
     Towards the end of the ride, Funder mentioned getting back on to ride up a particularly steep portion of the trail. Now, I am sure Funder was pretty beat by that time, too, from all the unexpected walking. One of the things in the training videos I had watched, that really intrigued me, was ‘tailing up’, or the act of dismounting and holding your horse’s tail while climbing steep grades. This gives your horse a slight break from your weight, yet you don’t have to navigate the slope on your own. I was so fascinated with the idea that I taught both of my current horses to do this. I have had really bad hips for so long, that the thought of hiking up anything of slope was not fun. It is great to be able to say, “tail up” and have your horse lift his/her tail so you can hold onto the dock. Then you just get right behind them and lift your feet in time to theirs. They furnish all the forward momentum and you just have to lift your feet up and down. It is really is a lot of fun. Jesse has hauled me up hill through some horrific snowfields this way when we have visited them on their winter mountain.
     I must say, I really enjoyed Funder’s write-up and grandly applaud her for knowing when to pull from the ride. It sounded like Dixie gave her all for as long as she could, and Funder listened when Dixie got tired. It does indeed say good things about their partnership. I hope they keep doing endurance and I will keep fantasizing about it.
Enjoying the ride our way,
Juanita

Our Backyard

Can you believe we get to ride with views like this?

You can come ride these same trails with us at 2011 High Country Rendezvous.  Last year was a blast and we're looking forward to this year.  Bill and Juanita will take care of all of the little details - all you need to do is make a reservation, pack your jeans and boots and join us. 

It's only $5 to book your room and if you pay in full, you'll get a 10% discount on the weekend.  Call 303-747-2552 to book.

Going Postal

Our town isn't exactly a huge metropolis.  Juanita and I don't know a lot of our townsfolk, because during the summer we are busy with guests in the lodge, or working with our horses.  And during the winter... nope, not going out there.  One of the folks we do know around here is our postmistress.

Early on, when we first moved up here I was standing in line forever (okay, there was one person ahead of me in line) when the gal ahead of me buying stamps at the counter told the clerk "Please give me some pretty stamps."  When I got to the counter I said "Please give me the ugliest stamps you have, I hate having them feel left out."  The clerk laughed and handed me some pretty ugly stamps, and that has been the way it has gone ever since.  I'm not sure Juanita has ever forgiven me for the year our Christmas cards went out with BATS on the stamps.

It's very nice being on a first name basis with the post office folks, and has probably saved me from doing time in the federal prison system.

A couple years ago, back when I trusted my ford truck enough to pull horse trailers with it, I found myself parked on the shoulder of the road towing "GunDiva's" horse and waiting for the truck to rest enough to magically start running and travel another mile or two up the canyon before dying again.  While I was cooling my hooves and cursing Henry's company under my breath, the mail lady pulled up beside me.   "Bill, do you need any help?" she asked.  "No, this d@mn ford just quits every mile or so some days, and needs a 15 or 20 minute break before it'll run again. Been doing it for months now.  Dealer can't figure it out, and neither can I."  I replied.  "Okay." she responded, and drove on up the mountain.  After an hour of intermittent travel, I made it the last 4 miles up the mountain.

  Multiple trips to the ford dealerships service department left the problem unresolved.  After one of my many expensive and fruitless trips to the service department, the ford Motor Company customer service department sent me  a customer satisfaction survey.

HOO! HAA!

I opened the letter right after pulling it out of my P.O. box and gazed at it incredulously.  Without thinking I blurted out

 "There isn't NEARLY enough room for a letter bomb in this return envelope!"

  "BILL!  YOU CAN"T EVEN JOKE LIKE THAT IN HERE!" came the shout from behind the wall of P.O.boxes.  Chagrined I said "No, no, it's okay, it's from ford."  "Oh.  Okay then." came the voice, and we all went off on our business with no call to the FBI.

Today, I walked to the post office with a hand full of thank-you cards Juanita was sending out that needed postage.  I asked for some ugly stamps, and asked the clerk if she would meter the postage on the cards and send them off.  Then I picked the up the mail from our box, and headed out the door and down the road. 

"Hey Bill!  Did you take those cards you wanted mailed out the door with you?" came a shout from the open post office door.

 "That would be dumb!  Why would I do that?"  I replied and I looked at the thank you letters held along with our mail in my hand.  I walked back to the door and mumbled my thanks at saving me another round trip.

These folks put the us in US mail.

Bill

Happy Birthday to the Bionic Cowgirl!

Here's hoping we can keep up with you on those new hips and that you don't use your "soft support" on Bill and Sophie any more than necessary.

Miles to Go

Yesterday morning while driving Juanita to her psychotic physical therapist's appointment, we saw a HEAVY frost on the pine trees.  The morning fog had frozen onto the limbs and needles.  Pretty. 

This morning, heading into the Estes Park hospital for her blood draw, we saw a flock of elk by the road.

 We might live miles from civilization, but really, I'm okay with that.  It's worth the drive.

Bill

Somewhere Around the Rainbow

If I were single, I would hate this guy.  Women love him.  I take that back, about a third of the women he meets love him, a third are kind of irritated by him and a third look at him with the kind of fascination usually reserved for train wrecks, reality TV shows and natural disasters.  But that is not why I would hate him.  It's because he knows which is which.

He can tell.  I never could.  In school I might have known a girl, and after talking to her years later, would find she had a crush on me, and wondered why I never asked her out.  Sweetheart, it was 'cause I'm clueless.

He can tell, and he knows his odds. 

One weekend, years ago, we had a woman's hiking group staying with us at the lodge.  My buddy caught wind of the event, dusted off his cowboy hat, and came a running.  Thirty women?  He could count on at least ten fawning over him.  He could hardly get here fast enough. 

He spent an entire evening schmoozing and "working the crowd".

Nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

No hits.
 
Thirty strikes and you're OUT.

Late in the evening a couple of the gals put on a show they did professionally.    Life and times of Calamity Jane.  The rest of the gals, Juanita and I and my buddy were the audience.  Great show, very funny and informative.  About half way through the show, he leaned over to me and said "They are all gay, aren't they."  Wasn't a question, really.  "Yep" I replied.  He smiled, leaned back in his chair and really started to enjoy the show.

I probably should have told him that the group was a lesbian hiking club, before he spent so much time and energy, but damn.

 I thought he could tell.




Bill

Home is Where It's At

I brought Juanita home a couple days after her hip replacement. She got home day before yesterday, and not a moment too soon.  The rebellion was brewing, and I was beginning to sleep with one eye open.  The dog and our two cats were starting to give me a serious batch of "stink-eye".  Reproachful glowers abounded, and I was hearing snatches of whispered conversations.  "What did he DO with her?  Should we gang up on him and MAKE him bring her home?"

I think all is forgiven now, at least from the cats.  She is a captive lap right now, THE BEST as far as Kitten Caboodle is concerned. 

The dog is still giving me sidelong glances... "She is hurt and can't PLAY!  You BROKE her!"

Juanita is doing quite well, but she has taken almost a half dozen Ibuprofen in the last few days.  I hope she doesn't get hooked on them...


Bill

Oh Yeah, and...

Juanita and I drove by the horses yesterday.  From across the pasture Jesse looked up when I hollered "TREATS!"  She started the 1/4 mile trip across the pasture at a trot.  Then Washoe noticed what was happening, and he came to us at a long trot.  Then Ida's sorrel "Peanut"spotted us and came at a dead run.  Peanut by two lengths.

Ranger brought up the rear at a dead mosey.

Our guys and Peanut enjoyed some bread crusts and dried apple skins.



When we got into the car to leave, Jesse hung her head over fence and asked "What? Is that all?  Let's DO something!" 

Poor girl is ready for a job, it's been a while.  The rest of them were just snuffling around for missed crusts and dried apple peals when we drove off.  Good to see them again, even if it was just for a minute.


I miss those horses and can't wait to get them back home.

Bill

Oh yeah, and Juanita had her second hip replaced yesterday and is in the hospital.  She seems okay. 

Hears to you...

A judge, a lawyer, a cowboy and an Innkeeper went into a bar.  Then another bar. And another.  And another...

This trip consisted of four happily married men going off on an adventure, without their life partners accompanying  them.  This of course led to copious amounts of self medication at every liquor serving establishment we they passed.  Some of the establishments were driven to at days end, and some were ridden to on horseback, horses tied up out front, and left to nap while we went in for a wee nip.

The mood for the trip was set early on.  Night number one we went to a casino or 2 or 3 in Deadwood, South Dakota.  The horses were napping in their trailer after being fed and watered in the parking lot, but as we still needed to take them to our first camping area, I volunteered to be the designated driver for the evening.  By the end of the evening, the judge and lawyer were posing with the manikins in the dioramas and laying on their backs taking pictures of themselves in the mirrored ceilings in the casinos.

There is nothing like a good hangover to make folks swear off booze for... well... the next day, anyway.

Riding down the trail several days later, we spotted an old bar, and the gas station across the road had a hitch-rail.  Perfect.  In we went.  After spending some time cutting the trail dust (okay, drawing and quartering it), we had a mass hallucination.  We all thought we saw a fawn (as in baby deer) wander in the front door and walk behind the bar.  Uh...uh...ummm....  The bartender looked down, smiled and said "Oh, there you are!" and proceeded to fix the critter a drink.  Warm milk.  I'm sure he told us how he ended up being Mr. Mom to a fawn, but words weren't registering.  Just the image of a scruffy bartender holding a bottle for a baby deer, while smiling angelically, like a mom breast feeding a newborn.  Judge and Lawyer took pictures.

After paying our tab and heading down the trail, we rode by a hole in the ground next to the trail.  Suddenly a small cloud of dust poured out of the hole, obscuring our vision and startling our horses.  When the air cleared,  there was a new mound of dirt in front of the hole.  Then it blinked.  When it stood up, we realized it was what Cowboy later called "Absolutely the dirtiest human being I have ever seen".  "Well, hi fellers!" it says and after a minute we were all off our horses and a bottle was being passed around.  A small container of gold flakes was displayed, and war stories were told,  including a demonstration of how one throws ones self to the earth and fires at the enemy while rolling across the ground.  Cowboy swears the miner got up cleaner after he went down and rolled in the dirt.   Bottle was finished.  Goodbyes were said.  Judge and Lawyer took pictures.

It was around this time that Judge and Lawyer commented on this great camera they had bought for this trip.  Now, you need to remember, years ago cameras required what we called at the time, "film" and when you took a certain number of pictures, you were out of film, and the camera would let you know by not letting you "wind" any more.  "We've been taking pictures for days, and this camera STILL isn't out of film!" they gushed.  Cowboy and I looked at each other, then back at Judge and Lawyer.  "So, which one of you two put the film in the new camera?"  we asked.  No kidding.   They had spent nearly a week looking through a viewfinder and making clicky-sounds at some REALLY cool stuff.  Just clicky-sounds.  No film.  Geeze, when these guys were introduced to me as "men of letters", I hadn't realized it only meant they had mastered their ABC's.  Well, mostly any ways.

Last bar was in Keystone.  Fun place with friendly wait staff.  They had a stage with an open mic night, and the judge went up and played his guitar.  The guy is GOOD, at least he was early in the evening.  As things progressed (read drinking), the playing deteriorated some, and Lawyer took over by telling jokes.  The sign on the front of the stage read "Family Entertainment", but the lawyer had his back to it.  The most memorable jokes involved jury selection, goats and good 'ol boys, and there aren't many families that would have approved.  Funny as all get-out though.  Just about last call, as several of the cute wait staff were inviting us to a bar that stayed open much later, the judge noticed a tattoo around the belly button of the gals exposed midriffs.  "What is that?  A crab?!?" he asks at the top of his lungs so he could be heard over the bar noise.  Smooth move Ex-Lax.  Things suddenly got quieter and colder as she set him straight.  "It's a rose".   Major beer foul.  Married long enough he musta been outa practice with that "flirting" stuff.  But then again, from the point of view of the rest of us, it was REALLY funny.

I truly enjoyed the whole trip, and as designated driver for the trip, I get to remember most of it. 

But next time, I'll bring the camera.  And one of THEM can take the darn car keys.

Ride on.

Bill