Bill
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Wild Basin Area
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Touch
Last week we had a guest park his motorcycle next to the lodge where no one had parked a big bike before, and it startled my horse. Ranger smudged the saddle bags.
My mustang, Ranger, spent the first 8 or 9 years of his life running wild in northwestern Nevada. He had very little contact with people or people's "things". Then came the round-up (or "gather") and all of that changed. Helicopters, trucks, trailers, fences and pens, and people. Scary, rude people with ropes and squeeze pens and needles and sharp knives that they use to... well, as a long term stallion, I'm sure he didn't care for that too much. All things people related were bad things.
I got Ranger 1 year after his original adoption, just the minute the cowboy that got him could unload him (you must keep a BLM mustang for one year after adopting before you get title and can sell him). The horse still hadn't gotten over his fear of "people stuff", and in fact, may have gotten worse about it. During his first year of living around people he had mastered the art of "rearing and striking" to chase people off. A VERY effective technique. He spent a lot of time being left the heck alone.
The first 6-8 months we had our new-old mustangs (my wife, Juanita and I both got our mustangs at the same time), we tried the "sack 'em out" method of desensitizing the animals. You subject the horse to close contact with whatever bothers them, in the hope that they will realize that it actually isn't hurting them. With these older mustangs, all it did was convince them that "people aren't to be trusted, they just want to torture you". Months of little to no progress left us looking for other techniques. Juanita heard an ad on the radio for a BLM adoption that had trainers in attendance to help with the training. We attended several training sessions and came away with the understanding that there are other, better ways of going about training mustangs. Clicker training was one of those ways.
Clicker training is a training method first used on animals you can't use regular training techniques with, like dolphins and seals. They will just swim away if you bug them, and most training is pretty bothersome. "Why would I want to do THAT?!?" is the response to most requests. Clicker training is a way to give exact direction to the critter, without needing to touch the animal. -CLICK-means you did something right, now you get a treat. Once they figure out the rules, you can get them to do a lot!
Once Ranger understood treats (a story by its self), I used the clicker training "touch" command to get him to touch things that he might normally shy away from. I say touch, he touches with his nose, -CLICK- and treat. Over and over again. Later I would only make him touch things he actually did shy away from, and later still just flinching would cost him a "touch". He no longer got a food treat for touching, just a pat on the neck and a "good boy".
Nothing in the neighborhood was safe from Ranger nose prints. Mail boxes, signs, trash cans... but most of all, car windows. "THERE IS A HORSE IN THAT CAR!!!"... "No you moron, it's your reflection. Touch." Smudge. "THERE IS A HORSE IN THIS CAR, TOO!"..."Moron. Touch." Smudge. Every car we went past ended up with smudge marks on the windows. Moron.
Ranger finally seemed to understand that if he didn't shy away, or even finch, he wouldn't have to touch the scary thing, and that made the scary stuff less scary to him. I could feel him tense up, but he would stand his ground. He got to the point where if something caught him "unawares", he would flinch, sigh, and reach out to touch it.
We ran a riding livery a few years back, and I used Ranger to lead out some of the "kids camp" rides. As long as the lead horse is calm, the horses in the line will stay calm. Ranger had 4 years of experience dealing with people and their scary stuff by then, and was getting pretty good at staying quiet.
One day, right after crossing a narrow bridge that went over a small river swollen by spring runoff, we found the trail blocked by a pickup truck with a sign on the side, "Trophy Trout". Walking toward Ranger and me was a man carrying a 4 foot pole fishnet that had 3 or 4 fish in it. These fish were HUGE! I bet there was 30 or 40 pounds of squirming fish in that net! Ranger turned to stone, and I mean not only did he not move, but he went rigid and hard as a rock. The fellow walked right up to us, completely focused on his heavy writhing load and stuck the net almost under Ranger's nose. At this point Juanita was bringing up the rear of the ride of about a dozen 8-10 year old kids. We had stopped so that most of the kids were still on the narrow bridge, which is fairly dangerous. She couldn't see what the holdup was, so hollered up to find out why we had stopped. Ranger heard her voice and looked back at her. She later told me the look on his face fairly screamed "PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME TOUCH IT!". The fish finally ended up in the water, and the truck got moved so we could go by, but that was the day I REALLY appreciated the results of the clicker training touch command.
I'm not sure the neighbors much care for the touch command, though. I suppose I owe them an apology and a bottle of Windex. Moron.
Bill
My mustang, Ranger, spent the first 8 or 9 years of his life running wild in northwestern Nevada. He had very little contact with people or people's "things". Then came the round-up (or "gather") and all of that changed. Helicopters, trucks, trailers, fences and pens, and people. Scary, rude people with ropes and squeeze pens and needles and sharp knives that they use to... well, as a long term stallion, I'm sure he didn't care for that too much. All things people related were bad things.
I got Ranger 1 year after his original adoption, just the minute the cowboy that got him could unload him (you must keep a BLM mustang for one year after adopting before you get title and can sell him). The horse still hadn't gotten over his fear of "people stuff", and in fact, may have gotten worse about it. During his first year of living around people he had mastered the art of "rearing and striking" to chase people off. A VERY effective technique. He spent a lot of time being left the heck alone.The first 6-8 months we had our new-old mustangs (my wife, Juanita and I both got our mustangs at the same time), we tried the "sack 'em out" method of desensitizing the animals. You subject the horse to close contact with whatever bothers them, in the hope that they will realize that it actually isn't hurting them. With these older mustangs, all it did was convince them that "people aren't to be trusted, they just want to torture you". Months of little to no progress left us looking for other techniques. Juanita heard an ad on the radio for a BLM adoption that had trainers in attendance to help with the training. We attended several training sessions and came away with the understanding that there are other, better ways of going about training mustangs. Clicker training was one of those ways.
Clicker training is a training method first used on animals you can't use regular training techniques with, like dolphins and seals. They will just swim away if you bug them, and most training is pretty bothersome. "Why would I want to do THAT?!?" is the response to most requests. Clicker training is a way to give exact direction to the critter, without needing to touch the animal. Once Ranger understood treats (a story by its self), I used the clicker training "touch" command to get him to touch things that he might normally shy away from. I say touch, he touches with his nose,
Nothing in the neighborhood was safe from Ranger nose prints. Mail boxes, signs, trash cans... but most of all, car windows. "THERE IS A HORSE IN THAT CAR!!!"... "No you moron, it's your reflection. Touch." Smudge. "THERE IS A HORSE IN THIS CAR, TOO!"..."Moron. Touch." Smudge. Every car we went past ended up with smudge marks on the windows. Moron.
Ranger finally seemed to understand that if he didn't shy away, or even finch, he wouldn't have to touch the scary thing, and that made the scary stuff less scary to him. I could feel him tense up, but he would stand his ground. He got to the point where if something caught him "unawares", he would flinch, sigh, and reach out to touch it.
We ran a riding livery a few years back, and I used Ranger to lead out some of the "kids camp" rides. As long as the lead horse is calm, the horses in the line will stay calm. Ranger had 4 years of experience dealing with people and their scary stuff by then, and was getting pretty good at staying quiet.
One day, right after crossing a narrow bridge that went over a small river swollen by spring runoff, we found the trail blocked by a pickup truck with a sign on the side, "Trophy Trout". Walking toward Ranger and me was a man carrying a 4 foot pole fishnet that had 3 or 4 fish in it. These fish were HUGE! I bet there was 30 or 40 pounds of squirming fish in that net! Ranger turned to stone, and I mean not only did he not move, but he went rigid and hard as a rock. The fellow walked right up to us, completely focused on his heavy writhing load and stuck the net almost under Ranger's nose. At this point Juanita was bringing up the rear of the ride of about a dozen 8-10 year old kids. We had stopped so that most of the kids were still on the narrow bridge, which is fairly dangerous. She couldn't see what the holdup was, so hollered up to find out why we had stopped. Ranger heard her voice and looked back at her. She later told me the look on his face fairly screamed "PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME TOUCH IT!". The fish finally ended up in the water, and the truck got moved so we could go by, but that was the day I REALLY appreciated the results of the clicker training touch command.
I'm not sure the neighbors much care for the touch command, though. I suppose I owe them an apology and a bottle of Windex. Moron.
Bill
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Fright
We've all heard the term "flight or fight" with regards to horses. Yesterday we had "something" in our corral cause this reaction with two of the horses: my daughter's mare and my Mustang mare. This is extremely unusual for anything to make my mare bolt. I didn't know anything had happened until I went out to feed the evening meal and saw what I thought was mud on my daughter's horse. On closer inspection, I discovered it was dried blood. She looked like she had been bitten by something in several places, but not horse bites. My first suspicion was the neighbor's dogs, who like to fight in our corral. Deciding I should look further before accusing the dogs, I noticed a torn up area on the ground - from their hooves. It soon became obvious the two horses had been standing nearly side by side when "something" caused them to whirl and charge. Unfortunately, they were quite close to a drop-off (maybe 10-12 ft. steep bank to the lower portion and stream bed). They realized their mistake and put on the brakes, only to slide down the hill. It was Estes' misfortune to slide right over some broken aspen stumps, of course, leaving some hide behind. She now has a horse's version of road rash in three spots along her right side: the top of her knee, behind her elbow (right in the cinch area) and a major abrasion in her right flank. I washed her down with povodine/iodine and nothing seemed too swollen.
I suspect she is a lot more sore than hurt. Those muscle bruisers always hurt worse. I spent some of today collecting stuff to make her feel better so she has now been treated with penicillin to fight any infection, bute for the pain of the sore muscles, and scarlet oil as a topical on the wounds for pain and to keep flies away, plus she is current on her tetinus shot. She does like the extra treats she gets for standing still for all this; she's been a great patient - but don't you dare look like you are thinking of touching the flank wound. Hopefully she will get more rest tonight.
I suspect she is a lot more sore than hurt. Those muscle bruisers always hurt worse. I spent some of today collecting stuff to make her feel better so she has now been treated with penicillin to fight any infection, bute for the pain of the sore muscles, and scarlet oil as a topical on the wounds for pain and to keep flies away, plus she is current on her tetinus shot. She does like the extra treats she gets for standing still for all this; she's been a great patient - but don't you dare look like you are thinking of touching the flank wound. Hopefully she will get more rest tonight.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wild Horse/Domestic Horse
As you all know, we have three Mustangs - wild horses - feral horses - normal by all accounts, yet somehow different. I have spent a good deal of time just watching all the horses around us: about 40 across the road at the livery, and friend's horses. I have started picking up on subtle differences between our wild guys and the "domestics", as I call them. There are a few at the livery that are crosses, like my two, and one BLM Mustang that they use. The differences I have noticed apply to those also - they fit into the "wild" side.
We have our daughter's horse up here with us, a domestic, albeit a ranch raised, unspoiled, very smart mare. She has been losing a lot of weight lately; so much so that I was getting quite worried. The "wild ones" don't particularly like her eating with them because she tends to be a slob, as do most domestics. That's one of the most prominent differences. Wild horses don't waste food; they don't throw it around; they don't tromp on it; they definitely don't POOP on it! It might be all you get. So, whenever the domestic starts messing with her food, they chase her out of the feeder. I would feed her in a seperate feeder to save her stress, thinking that was why she was losing weight. Didn't work. Two days ago, I started actually seperating her to a special pen to eat so the others couldn't crowd her and she could eat all day if she wanted. That same day I talked to a horse info person in town who suggested maybe the whole problem was that she just ate slower than the others. I bought some probios anyway, just to help put the weight back on before winter.
Well, the other pen is working like a charm, but is also emphasizing the differences again. Now that Estes has enough food, she has regained energy and is giving the wild ones something to think about. It's fun having the old girl back to herself. As for the differences: when food is withheld from the wild ones, they GET all energetic and rowdy, as if to say,"Just let me out of this pen. I'll get my own food!" When food is withheld from domestics, they get lethargic, as if conserving energy until the human appears with food. I had noticed this before when I would cut my mare's rations if she was putting on weight. She would get very rowdy. Now, just the opposite is so apparent with Estes; within 24 hours of being allowed to eat her full rations, she has become rowdy.
Just one more of the many nuances of the animal world.
We have our daughter's horse up here with us, a domestic, albeit a ranch raised, unspoiled, very smart mare. She has been losing a lot of weight lately; so much so that I was getting quite worried. The "wild ones" don't particularly like her eating with them because she tends to be a slob, as do most domestics. That's one of the most prominent differences. Wild horses don't waste food; they don't throw it around; they don't tromp on it; they definitely don't POOP on it! It might be all you get. So, whenever the domestic starts messing with her food, they chase her out of the feeder. I would feed her in a seperate feeder to save her stress, thinking that was why she was losing weight. Didn't work. Two days ago, I started actually seperating her to a special pen to eat so the others couldn't crowd her and she could eat all day if she wanted. That same day I talked to a horse info person in town who suggested maybe the whole problem was that she just ate slower than the others. I bought some probios anyway, just to help put the weight back on before winter.
Well, the other pen is working like a charm, but is also emphasizing the differences again. Now that Estes has enough food, she has regained energy and is giving the wild ones something to think about. It's fun having the old girl back to herself. As for the differences: when food is withheld from the wild ones, they GET all energetic and rowdy, as if to say,"Just let me out of this pen. I'll get my own food!" When food is withheld from domestics, they get lethargic, as if conserving energy until the human appears with food. I had noticed this before when I would cut my mare's rations if she was putting on weight. She would get very rowdy. Now, just the opposite is so apparent with Estes; within 24 hours of being allowed to eat her full rations, she has become rowdy.
Just one more of the many nuances of the animal world.
September Recipe: Apple Dumplings
Apple Dumplings
Makes 16 pieces
9"x13" baking dish, sprayed with PAM
350F for 20 - 25 minutes
Dough: Day before:
½ c. soft butter (Country Crock)
3 oz. Cream cheese
1 c. sifted flour
With electric mixer on med.,beat butter & cheese until smooth. Beat in flour. Shape dough into smooth ball; wrap in foil, refrigerate overnight.
Sauce:
1 c. orange juice
3/4 c. sugar
½ stick butter
Warm until dissolved.
4 apples (Delicious or Granny Smith)
Quarter, core and peel.
Divide dough into 16 small balls. Roll each ball very thin and
use to wrap each apple quarter. Lay seam side down in pan.
Pour sauce over them & sprinkle with cinnamon. Bake until
golden brown. Baste with sauce before serving.
Makes 16 pieces
9"x13" baking dish, sprayed with PAM
350F for 20 - 25 minutes
Dough: Day before:
½ c. soft butter (Country Crock)
3 oz. Cream cheese
1 c. sifted flour
With electric mixer on med.,beat butter & cheese until smooth. Beat in flour. Shape dough into smooth ball; wrap in foil, refrigerate overnight.
Sauce:
1 c. orange juice
3/4 c. sugar
½ stick butter
Warm until dissolved.
4 apples (Delicious or Granny Smith)
Quarter, core and peel.
Divide dough into 16 small balls. Roll each ball very thin and
use to wrap each apple quarter. Lay seam side down in pan.
Pour sauce over them & sprinkle with cinnamon. Bake until
golden brown. Baste with sauce before serving.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Ears
I have noticed...
that scenery looks better...
when I see it...
between the ears...
of my horse.
Bill
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Pony Pass Ride
We’ve been planning this ride for a couple of weeks, but wanting to do the ride for the last couple of years. In fact, two years ago Bill and I had started up this trail, not realizing where it went, but turned back because we were running out of time and the trail was extremely over grown. We would have needed a whole day for exploring it. Last year, we just didn’t get 
the amount of ride time we needed. Then we find out Phebe, owner of The Warming House and Footpaths of the World, an inn-to-inn hiking business, knows the way. We are one of the "ending inns" for her WTW tour, so when chatting one day we discovered a mutual like for riding - and the challenge ride was on.
So…about 8:45 a.m. our guide, Phebe, arrives (she’s a bit excited, too!) and we collect the horses. She was suddenly a little concerned, having realized the night before that being “hiking fit” is not the same as “riding fit”. (By the way, two days before, she and her husband had hiked over the Continental Divide to Grand Lake, stayed the night, and hiked back…38 miles round trip.) She had grown up on horses, so was at least comfortable in her ability to h
andle one.
We had packed lunches, decked her out in an extra pair of chaps, made sure we had raingear, water and hats, and left the Lodge at 9:30, our planned departure time. Prior to this, Bill and I had driven the PU and trailer over to the end of the trail, at the Camp Dick campground, so we would have transport home. I started out on Washoe, Phebe on Jesse and Bill on Ranger. It took longer to reach the trail than expected. Rock Creek road is really hard on the horses’ feet, so we went slowly, and even stepped off to hike about 15-20 minutes, to let my hip rest (and Phebe’s, too). Deciding to hike part of the trail was one of our better decisions!
I had estimated it to be a little over two miles away, but it was more than three, so it was about 11:00 when we actually stepped onto the trail. We mounted back up and started UP, and continued UP, this windy, overgrown path. The horses had to step over lots of undergrowth and sometimes we
had to traverse around and into trees to get over stuff that was too high. A couple of times, we stepped off the horses so they would fit through the trees – we would have been scraped off. The horses took it with good grace, doing whatever was asked of them as needed and we ended up in a meadow high on the mountain for lunch.
Jesse maneuvering over deadfall; trail much steeper than it appears.
Unfortunately, due to wildfires burning in CA and some controlled burns going on in CO, it looked like a foggy day and we weren’t able to get many landscape pictures. At least the weather was perfect for riding, though, at about 78 degrees, no rain and just a nice breeze. On top of the mountain the sun broke through the smoke and it was beautiful, but not picture worthy.
We let the horses rest and a
te our lunch, spending ½ hour lounging against some downed timber. We mounted back up, this time with Phebe on Washoe and me on Jesse. Now for the fun of locating the trail. Up to now, there had been blue markers along the way, and at least a faint trail to follow, but from here it got a little confusing. On her foot hike through previously, Phebe had built cairns along the path, but even with them it was difficult to find the right path. We did a lot of tree ducking and I managed to bang my shoulder and head when I thought I could duck a large, fallen tree. After I had started under I realized I had misjudged a couple of the smaller branches and barely had room to squeeze through. I called to the others to go around. Then as we were winding downhill, Ranger caught a large branch with one of his back feet, causing it to flip up into his butt and tail. The rodeo was on. Between bucks he was kicking out with both back feet, trying to “get away from whatever had him”. He managed to slam Bill’s right shin into a good sized tree before he got free and calmed down. I’m not sure how Bill stayed on, but thank goodness for chaps. He has a goose-egg swelling, but no lost skin or breaks. Phebe, on the other hand, seemed to have co
me through unscathed, although she said she had plenty of sore spots from overhead tree branches.
Phebe on Washoe, nearing the other side.
We finally hit the well-marked trail coming up from the other side and decided to hike again. We had come up on a particularly steep, rocky, downhill section, with round rocks about grapefruit size. If one of the horses would have stumbled or had a rock roll out from under them, it would have been a nasty fall. It was hard enough for us to keep our own footing, leading the horses. Just as we were coming off the rocks onto a 4x4 road, we heard a gunshot! Just what we needed; someone target shooting. We hollered out so they would know there were others about. Sure enough, as we came around a corner, a couple of guys were firing off some rifle rounds. They graciously waited for us to walk the horses past…teasing us about walking, not riding.
By this time, we were noticing a large influx of horse flies and bees. Quickly mounting up, we headed down the road to our final destination: the campground. Our final obstacle was crossing a wooden bridge completely surrounded by bees. Some of the campers had the campground host cornered, complaining about all the bees. As we passed that group, Washoe managed to snuff one up his nose and started dancing around. Phebe hopped off, I grabbed at his headstall and the two of us managed to get him across the bridge. Fortunately, that’s where our trailer was parked and the horses wasted no time climbing in.
When we got back home, I couldn’t convince Jesse to unload. She had literally fallen asleep in the trailer and was planning on staying right there! That’s the first time I have ever had her not want to get right out. They were tuckered out little puppies. We made the ride over in five and ¼ hours, including our lunc
h. Not a ride for the faint of heart…or untra
ined trail horses. Thank you Phebe for being such a good sport. You were great with both my horses! And thanks to Bill for handling the camera work.
Juanita
the amount of ride time we needed. Then we find out Phebe, owner of The Warming House and Footpaths of the World, an inn-to-inn hiking business, knows the way. We are one of the "ending inns" for her WTW tour, so when chatting one day we discovered a mutual like for riding - and the challenge ride was on.So…about 8:45 a.m. our guide, Phebe, arrives (she’s a bit excited, too!) and we collect the horses. She was suddenly a little concerned, having realized the night before that being “hiking fit” is not the same as “riding fit”. (By the way, two days before, she and her husband had hiked over the Continental Divide to Grand Lake, stayed the night, and hiked back…38 miles round trip.) She had grown up on horses, so was at least comfortable in her ability to h
andle one.We had packed lunches, decked her out in an extra pair of chaps, made sure we had raingear, water and hats, and left the Lodge at 9:30, our planned departure time. Prior to this, Bill and I had driven the PU and trailer over to the end of the trail, at the Camp Dick campground, so we would have transport home. I started out on Washoe, Phebe on Jesse and Bill on Ranger. It took longer to reach the trail than expected. Rock Creek road is really hard on the horses’ feet, so we went slowly, and even stepped off to hike about 15-20 minutes, to let my hip rest (and Phebe’s, too). Deciding to hike part of the trail was one of our better decisions!
I had estimated it to be a little over two miles away, but it was more than three, so it was about 11:00 when we actually stepped onto the trail. We mounted back up and started UP, and continued UP, this windy, overgrown path. The horses had to step over lots of undergrowth and sometimes we
had to traverse around and into trees to get over stuff that was too high. A couple of times, we stepped off the horses so they would fit through the trees – we would have been scraped off. The horses took it with good grace, doing whatever was asked of them as needed and we ended up in a meadow high on the mountain for lunch.Jesse maneuvering over deadfall; trail much steeper than it appears.
Unfortunately, due to wildfires burning in CA and some controlled burns going on in CO, it looked like a foggy day and we weren’t able to get many landscape pictures. At least the weather was perfect for riding, though, at about 78 degrees, no rain and just a nice breeze. On top of the mountain the sun broke through the smoke and it was beautiful, but not picture worthy.
We let the horses rest and a
te our lunch, spending ½ hour lounging against some downed timber. We mounted back up, this time with Phebe on Washoe and me on Jesse. Now for the fun of locating the trail. Up to now, there had been blue markers along the way, and at least a faint trail to follow, but from here it got a little confusing. On her foot hike through previously, Phebe had built cairns along the path, but even with them it was difficult to find the right path. We did a lot of tree ducking and I managed to bang my shoulder and head when I thought I could duck a large, fallen tree. After I had started under I realized I had misjudged a couple of the smaller branches and barely had room to squeeze through. I called to the others to go around. Then as we were winding downhill, Ranger caught a large branch with one of his back feet, causing it to flip up into his butt and tail. The rodeo was on. Between bucks he was kicking out with both back feet, trying to “get away from whatever had him”. He managed to slam Bill’s right shin into a good sized tree before he got free and calmed down. I’m not sure how Bill stayed on, but thank goodness for chaps. He has a goose-egg swelling, but no lost skin or breaks. Phebe, on the other hand, seemed to have co
me through unscathed, although she said she had plenty of sore spots from overhead tree branches.Phebe on Washoe, nearing the other side.
We finally hit the well-marked trail coming up from the other side and decided to hike again. We had come up on a particularly steep, rocky, downhill section, with round rocks about grapefruit size. If one of the horses would have stumbled or had a rock roll out from under them, it would have been a nasty fall. It was hard enough for us to keep our own footing, leading the horses. Just as we were coming off the rocks onto a 4x4 road, we heard a gunshot! Just what we needed; someone target shooting. We hollered out so they would know there were others about. Sure enough, as we came around a corner, a couple of guys were firing off some rifle rounds. They graciously waited for us to walk the horses past…teasing us about walking, not riding.
By this time, we were noticing a large influx of horse flies and bees. Quickly mounting up, we headed down the road to our final destination: the campground. Our final obstacle was crossing a wooden bridge completely surrounded by bees. Some of the campers had the campground host cornered, complaining about all the bees. As we passed that group, Washoe managed to snuff one up his nose and started dancing around. Phebe hopped off, I grabbed at his headstall and the two of us managed to get him across the bridge. Fortunately, that’s where our trailer was parked and the horses wasted no time climbing in.When we got back home, I couldn’t convince Jesse to unload. She had literally fallen asleep in the trailer and was planning on staying right there! That’s the first time I have ever had her not want to get right out. They were tuckered out little puppies. We made the ride over in five and ¼ hours, including our lunc
h. Not a ride for the faint of heart…or untra
ined trail horses. Thank you Phebe for being such a good sport. You were great with both my horses! And thanks to Bill for handling the camera work.Juanita
Monday, August 31, 2009
Fat and Happy
We just took a run over to Camp Dick to re-check a parking spot for our horse trailer for tomorrow's BIG ride. We are all so excited we can hardly stay put. We are going to cross Pony Pass, between Allenspark and Camp Dick. I am guessing it should take about six hours. Our guide has hiked this trail twice and will be riding one of my grays. We stopped by her shop today and all of her employees asked about the ride and said how excited she was - and why couldn't they go, too? Well, someone has to run the shop when the boss is out playing!
After checking out the route again, we went on up Hwy 72 to where the ranch horses are summer pastured. I guess I have to quit complaining about weight issues with Jesse. Every one of the five currently there make my mare look pretty svelt and trim. Blue-eyed Doc has turned into a real beauty and lover. He came right over when called and snuggled with Bill and I, both. Last time I was in an open pasture with him, almost two years ago, he was so full of testosterone he was trying to herd me away from the mares! He has since been gelded and turned into the sweetest young gentleman. Paint and Peanut are their normal, pudgy, happy selves. I think the other two were Cannon and Brownie. I'm not used to seeing Brownie fat and Cannon has Estes' distinguishing crescent-shaped star on his forehead, although you have to be near him to see it. He's a gorgeous bay color like his grandma, but a good 2 - 3 hands taller and built like his Percheron daddy. What a looker...and what a pleasant surprise to get to see and touch part of "our old herd". Just as we were leaving, they all took off at a gallop for back parts in the trees. It was like they had come down to the fence to wait for us, even though we didn't know we were going to visit them.
Juanita
After checking out the route again, we went on up Hwy 72 to where the ranch horses are summer pastured. I guess I have to quit complaining about weight issues with Jesse. Every one of the five currently there make my mare look pretty svelt and trim. Blue-eyed Doc has turned into a real beauty and lover. He came right over when called and snuggled with Bill and I, both. Last time I was in an open pasture with him, almost two years ago, he was so full of testosterone he was trying to herd me away from the mares! He has since been gelded and turned into the sweetest young gentleman. Paint and Peanut are their normal, pudgy, happy selves. I think the other two were Cannon and Brownie. I'm not used to seeing Brownie fat and Cannon has Estes' distinguishing crescent-shaped star on his forehead, although you have to be near him to see it. He's a gorgeous bay color like his grandma, but a good 2 - 3 hands taller and built like his Percheron daddy. What a looker...and what a pleasant surprise to get to see and touch part of "our old herd". Just as we were leaving, they all took off at a gallop for back parts in the trees. It was like they had come down to the fence to wait for us, even though we didn't know we were going to visit them.
Juanita
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Twin Sisters Ride
One of the trails near us is Twin Sisters. The trailhead has been moved to a location across from Lily Lake, just south of Estes Park. We had not had a chance to try this trail, but on a day we could, surprisingly, take a longer ride we found ourselves parked at the trail parking. You have to ride ½ mile up the dirt road to get to the actual trailhead, then you step onto an exceptionally well groomed trail, almost like you would find in a park. This was no small challenge to form this trail on a very rocky and steep mountain. We were amazed that within the first ½ hour of travel we had traversed several sets of steps. Our goal in doing this ride was to condition our horses for a longer, tough, cross-country ride the following week. I had chosen to ride Washoe, as his feet seem to take rocky paths better, and Jesse was already in pretty good shape. I didn’t want to chance soring her feet for the trip. All three of our horses would be needed for the ride, as we were furnishing a horse for our guide.
The switchbacks kept getting tighter, the steps steeper and no space on the sides to step off for a break. It was obvious that no horses had been on this trail this year – or maybe even last year. Once we got to a higher elevation, we had some great views: all of Lily Lake, then the backside of Wind River Ranch and Aspen Lodge, with Long’s Peak looking down on them, finally the Long’s Peak Inn across the highway. Washoe said someone else was on the trail and pretty soon a couple of lady hikers came around the bend. (One of them thought we were a bear coming up the trail.) After chatting with them and figuring we had another hour of climb time to reach the top, we made the decision to just go a short way further, find one of the aspen groves they spoke of, have lunch so the horses could rest, and head down. Ranger had already said he was about done with the stair-thing – plus what you come up, you have to go down!
Great idea, but we never found any aspen groves, just a cool rock outcropping that Washoe said was just fine for lunch. We tied up the horses sort of off the trail and sat on a big rock for our picnic. On the way down, Washoe stopped to listen intently again (he’s learning to be a good lead horse). At the next clearing
we could look down on the back of Aspen Lodge, where some sort of 
session was going on in the corral. We could almost hear the talking plain enough to make out what was being said. That’s how our clear, mountain air works! We continued down the trail – all those steps, again – and got back to the trailer just as the afternoon rain started. Talk about timing. Ranger could hardly wait to get into the trailer. I think he wasn’t taking any chances on having to go back up those steps. Got back to the Lodge just ahead of the rain and laughed heartily at the horses taking their celebratory roll in the corral.
Juanita
we could look down on the back of Aspen Lodge, where some sort of 
session was going on in the corral. We could almost hear the talking plain enough to make out what was being said. That’s how our clear, mountain air works! We continued down the trail – all those steps, again – and got back to the trailer just as the afternoon rain started. Talk about timing. Ranger could hardly wait to get into the trailer. I think he wasn’t taking any chances on having to go back up those steps. Got back to the Lodge just ahead of the rain and laughed heartily at the horses taking their celebratory roll in the corral.Juanita
Ride/Hike Sunday
Sunday afternoon, our normal “horse lesson” day, and grandkids were coming up. “Can one of them please have her horse lesson? The rest of us are going to hike”…or so we thought. By the time they arrived, one of the “hikers” had totally changed his mind and was pretty insistent he was riding! Problem: not enough horses. OK, they could share a horse; Jesse does well with double kids. Oops! Someone didn’t consider it riding unless he was steering. That sort of messes with the idea of “lesson time” for sister, although she was perfectly willing to share steering responsibilities. Mom steps in about this time and ends temper tantrum by enforcing the “hike” decisi
on, so off we go, with one not-so-happy hiker. (“I hate, hate, hate hiking…with a capital H!”) We all ignore this statement and within five minutes the offended hiker has found a couple of sticks and is soon laughing and playing army man with his MK rifle.
Now, it was really fun watching Jesse watch this transition. While younger brother was upset, she was very watchful of where he was, sometimes beside her, sometimes in front, sometimes in back. As soon as he became engrossed in his new game, she totally relaxed and was not bothered in the least when he darted in front of her hooves to chase the enemy. She would hesitate with a foot in the air so he could get past without getting stepped on. We spent a good hour wandering around on the mountain, at the Clara Belle mine and across the meadow. On the way back he challenged Mom
to a race up the last stretch of the trail. Sister, sitting on Jesse, was the goal. Watching these horses stand rock solid while people are running past, slapping hands and laughing makes you realize how great these Sunday afternoo
ns are. Juanita
on, so off we go, with one not-so-happy hiker. (“I hate, hate, hate hiking…with a capital H!”) We all ignore this statement and within five minutes the offended hiker has found a couple of sticks and is soon laughing and playing army man with his MK rifle.Now, it was really fun watching Jesse watch this transition. While younger brother was upset, she was very watchful of where he was, sometimes beside her, sometimes in front, sometimes in back. As soon as he became engrossed in his new game, she totally relaxed and was not bothered in the least when he darted in front of her hooves to chase the enemy. She would hesitate with a foot in the air so he could get past without getting stepped on. We spent a good hour wandering around on the mountain, at the Clara Belle mine and across the meadow. On the way back he challenged Mom
to a race up the last stretch of the trail. Sister, sitting on Jesse, was the goal. Watching these horses stand rock solid while people are running past, slapping hands and laughing makes you realize how great these Sunday afternoo
ns are. Juanita
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