Lately, I've had nothing but sunshine and roses to write about. And, I've been thinking - it wasn't always this way. I thought I'd document some of my more "cloudy" times with my horses - if for no other reason than to remember how far we've come, and as a reminder to myself to stay alert and pay attention to their body language at all times.
About 6.5 years ago I answered an ad on Craigslist to sponser a horse. I had just started a new job, my kids were pretty self-sufficient, so I had the time and the money to do it. I met with the horse owner, got about 20 minutes of instruction, and off we went. There were 2 horses that I had access to. I quickly migrated to the younger, and it's a miracle that I'm still here to write about it. Corey... she bucked me off one night on a night ride with my soon to be friend Kimberly. The saddle horn put a grapefruit size bruise on my stomach and thigh and I ended up on Corey's neck. I finished the ride going home on Rosie - Kimberly's mare. Not long after, I was trying to get Corey to go into the round pen so I could work her a little. Like a typical greenie, I stood in the the middle of the gate entrance, facing Corey dead on, and pulled with all my might. I wasn't thinking about what I would do if she actually came - she'd trample me getting through the gate. I needed Parelli bad at this time, but it was still in my future. After about 5 minutes of pulling, Corey got tired of it and squirted through the gate opening, slamming my face up against the bar, and I thought at the time, fracturing my cheekbone. But, it was just a bruise. Lucky for me!
Then came Jeffrey. I had been the proud owner of Jeffrey for about 2 whole months the night he bucked my butt off in the arena at Franklin Canyon. Still not knowing much about horses and having seen other owners give their horses some grain or mash at night, I bought a huge bag of Equine Adult. It's mostly molasses, I think. After about 2 weeks of 1 coffee can each night, Jeff was as high as a kite! I was of course too green to know this - I just thought he was feeling good (and he looked magnificant!). On the night in question, we made our way to the arena so I could turn him loose (he running mad, crazy circles around me from his stall to the arena). I let him go and he went careening off, screaming at the top of his lungs. He ran for about 45 minutes without even looking my way. About 2 hours later when he was fairly calm, I got a wild hair. "Why don't I jump on bareback and go for a little ride" (in the arena - thank God.) I led him up to the mounting block, which was just a touch too short for me to get on. So, I had to jump a little. :) You're seeing where this is going, right? Well, I jumped on and OFF he went - taking about 6 gallop steps - and went into a massive buck! Off I went, flying straight up in the air, over his ass, and landed in the deep, soft arena dirt flat on my back. This is the first time I probably should have been killed. And, it was the only time I've been bucked off. Not a fun experience. Needless to say, I took Jeff off the Equine Adult that night.
Out on the trail, again at Franklin Canyon, Jeff and I were on a trail ride with my friend Carol & her gelding Sedona. On our way home, I got too close to the edge of the trail and a broken limb from a bush caught my jacket. I pulled the whole bush forward about 2 feet (it was dead) and then it snapped back in place, making a deafening noise. That was when I learned about the butt tuck. A nifty move that a horse can do where one minute you're sitting on their back, and the next - nothing - just plain air. They tuck down and spring forward into a mad dash to escape whatever was just about to eat them (the bush in this instance). Anyway, he bolted down the trail until we got to a turn in the bend that had a little 2 inch stream of water going by. Thank God he was afraid of crossing water (and was not a big fan of jumping either)! I survived.
Fast forward a couple years and we're now boarding at Kutchera Ranch in Antioch. I'm usually the only one at the ranch - going out after work and playing with my horses for 2-3 hours each night. The last day stragglers are usually leaving just as we're getting warmed up. So, one very dark, very windy, and very alone night, Jeffrey was his typical nut job self and had gotten himself all worked up and sweaty. I didn't want to put him away like that so I decided to hop on (bareback w/a halter and one rein) and walk him until his sweat dried. We made it about 1/2 lap around the indoor arena when a monster jumped out from behind the bushes and bit him on the butt (or maybe it was just a cow in the field behind us - who knows...). Jeff did his famous butt tuck, but this time I wasn't so lucky. He careened away from the noise that startled him and was heading straight for the arena pipe paneling at a speed I knew I wasn't going to survive when he turned to avoid the fence. I had probably just finished that thought when I went flying off his butt again - rolled about 10 times (I left a skid mark of about 15 feet) and came to a stop. My mouth was full of dirt - I had dirt in every nook and cranny of my whole body - including inside my underware, and I was pretty sure that I had broken my foot. I hobbled back to his stall, put him away (did my chores like a good mom), and made my way to the hospital. Not broken, just badly sprained.
Sometime after (or before - it's all cloudy now), I was lazy and wanted to mount and ride rather than walk to the arena to turn him out (yes, Jeff again). I climbed up on Rosie's paddock panneling, swung a leg over, missjudged, and fell straight down on my back looking up at Jeffrey's belly. Bless his heart - he just stood there looking down at me - Watcha doing mom?? X-rays revealed that I had NOT broken my back. Whew!
Beauty's turn. This is probably my most painful and embarrassing story to date. I had just gotten Beauty back from training, maybe like 3 days prior. I had not yet purchased my BG panties and was still a little intimidated riding her - even though she was doing really well under saddle. So that afternoon, I saddled her up at my trailer and was about to mount when I noticed that the little bit of baling twine that I had used to secure her stirrup to the saddle (I had lost a screw and had made my repair with baling twine - I'm writing a book about the million uses of baling twine - but that's another story) had come unraveled. So, standing square facing her belly, mid body of the horse, I started fiddling around with that stupid white twine (snake - I'm sure she thought it was a snake). Here's the embarrassing part - I'm sure she had given me about 10 signals prior to kicking me, but I wasn't paying attention - I was focused on the twine. And yessss, did she kick me. She swung her butt towards me and cow kicked the $$#@^%&% out of my right thigh. One minute I'm fiddling with twine - the next I'm sitting back in my trailer door wondering what happened. Beauty went on munching grass like she had just swatted a fly off her back w/her tail. It happened so fast, and took me so much by surprise, that I really had to sit there for a few moments and try to figure it all out. My whole leg was numb - the pain came later. But, like the stuborn B___ch that I am, I went ahead with my lesson, only on the ground - no way could I have mounted her. It wasn't until several hours later that I thought she might have actually cracked my femur. X-rays again proved me wrong - luckily! The best part was the AMAZING bruise that developed! From the top of my hip to below my knee, my whole thigh was BLACK, front and back. Then it turned red, green, and finally months later, a sickly yellow. I still sport a sore, dead spot in the shape of a half moon that will be permanently dented. I had so much fun freaking people out and would drop trou at the drop of a hat to show it off. Good times!
Well, that's it! I'm still alive and kicking and will hopefully, God willing, not have any more stories in the future to add to this! Happy trails!
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