A Road Less Travis

Did I mention the sheep is a pain in the ass? Dewey loves the sheep. No sheep, he seriously freaks out if Travis is somewhere out of his eyesight. So Travis doing his job. Filled the job of best friend. Company. If Travis is laying by the fence, a cottony lump at rest, Dewey is standing near him, head lowered. We used to have sheep here that ran away if you looked at them. Travis is more the bust into the barn type. If you come out to the barn, he comes running over. If you open a door, he says thank you, I will go in first. He's like a hundred pound hunk of solid wool bashing into everything. He is a ram. His style is knock it over, ask questions later. He would kill for hands. As it is, if he wants to break into something, he knocks it over, paws at it, attacks it basically with his face. But if I get him out of the chicken house, let's say, where he has escaped and is ransacking it like he's on the SWAT team, all I have to do is grab the top of his wooly neck and he comes along with me peacefully. Like hey, where ya been. Sure I'll go. Sorry. Sorry I made this huge mess. Just foolin around.

I'm Not the Only One Who's Nuts

The f**ing squirrels. It isn't enough that they raid my chicken house. They started eating the chicks. Not eating them like, cleaning their plate and leaving a nice tip. They just eat the head off. They leave it for me to find, like a calling card. Like a challenge. Like WE DID THIS. What are you going to do about it? So now they're caged in behind wire at night. And then I start checking my chicken house a billion times so I can get the eggs before they do. I plug every hole, so they can't get in. I open the door and there's a chicken on the nest doing her low warning crrrrrrrr when she sees me and there in front of her is a dumbass squirrel just waiting there with his tail twitching, he's just standing there like he's at the drive thru. He knows his food is coming. Dammit! So I put poison under the tack room and blocked all the holes there and there should be a serious Jonestown going on under there with I hope every squirrel on earth. Today I walked out and no death. First thing in the morning. Chicks all safe. Now to tackle the flea issue. Maybe animals are the dumbest thing to do. But the eggs are good. And the dog is good company. But we could have gone to Europe on the time I've spent problem solving out here. But we live here. So I made living here as fully invested in the land as I could. Earth is solid. Living things are lively. Flea bombs now. Europe later. Send me a postcard and a Xanax, cause that's the future of air travel for me.

The Walk

In Santa Monica, growing up, I walked to school. Roosevelt, it was only about 3 long blocks from my house, but it felt like a very long way. I walked by myself, although I'm guessing my brothers were there sometimes. I just don't remember them. Because when I walked, I looked down at all the cracks in the sidewalk, and certain bushes we passed along backyard fences. I didn't think at all about the history of people's houses, or who lived where, my mind wasn't clogged with all the adult busy-ness and loud strutting it likes to do now. It was quiet in there. When I was 8 and I walked I was pretending I was leading my horse behind me. It was too hard to pretend to be riding a horse (required a silly walk) so I was always holding a lead rope, and my horse was just right behind me following along. This year I am 50. I was walking Lilly up to school, on the path she will remember as the long walk to her school. I was thinking about how in the mornings after I drop Lilly, I go home, and if I'm not working, I get Dewey, and walk back up to the park. Up the same path. Same little girl. Walking up to school, about a half hour from where I grew up, not near the beach now, but out near the mountains. In a valley. I'm walking up to school and this time I really do have a horse following behind me. Just like I wanted.

Holy Sheep's Balls

Holy Sheep’s Balls So when we got Travis, he had been banded, which means he was a ram lamb, but we didn’t need him to be a virile breeding sheep, we just needed him to be a mellow buddy sheep. So the farming custom (encouraged and performed by the vet) is to band the baby sheep (or goat) if you want a sheep that is sterile by putting a metal band around the tiny buds of nuts. The blood gets diminished going to that part of the body and eventually, as the vet told me while yawning, it just dries up and falls off. So I’ve been keeping an eye on Travis’s nuts, and they were getting smaller and tougher, but they weren’t falling off. He wasn’t in any pain, he didn’t mind at all when I would check them out and it certainly didn’t stop him from chasing the dog around like an insane dude or eating a ton of hay with Dewey the horse. But it had been 3 months, and she said it should only take about a month. So yesterday I went out and while he was eating hay I just bent down and looked at his little nut sack. It looks like a little cottony furball, so I bent it back and that’s when I saw that it wasn’t attached at all. It was just hanging there like a dried up little purse. It must’ve fallen off a long time ago, but since he’s made of wool, the wool was like Velcro and kept the nuts just stuck there in all the fluff. Like a ballsack matted hair clump. All his manhood erased and just stuck to the top of his leg there. So I pulled the little wooly bag off and then ahhk! I’m holding sheep’s balls. Dried, for your pleasure. Dried fluffy balls. In convenient soft wool covering. I have to say this is the first time this has happened to me. Travis was grateful to be rid of them, I think. He didn’t stop eating to let me know, but his horn buds aren’t growing because he has no testosterone, which will make him happier later, when his horns don’t get stuck in the fence or in the dog or in small children running by. Less balls means Travis will continue to be the silly and affectionate little guy that he already is, with no chance of him ramming us when we bend over like in Shirley Temple movies. Travis is very fond of a nice head scratch, all over body brush, or an old banana peel if you’re feeling generous. Travis runs over yelling HEYYYYYYY in his language when you open the gate and weaves in and out of the horse’s legs because he adores the horse. And he plays tag with the dog. He’s maybe the world’s greatest sheep, and he’s two balls lighter. I told Bess about Travis’s balls that night. I told her maybe I should send the balls to Chris for her birthday. I thought nobody probably thinks to send balls to anyone. Once you’ve held shed sheep parts in your hands, your life becomes radically silly.

Training from a Quiet Spot

Today I could hear the horse talking to me. Not talking that way, just I stopped my busy mind and just felt the horse. Looked at the world slightly lower and quieter, from big brown eyes. I saw the traffic on our street as we walked up to the park. I saw that yesterday when I was mad and thinking like a human, I didn't see that yesterday when we went up to the park he was a 7 year old baby horse who hasn't been out in awhile and was excited to look at everything. He was excited to see other horses. He wasn't paying that much attention to me and our work, until I reminded him hey. We're here to do something. Then he settled in, he did what I needed. The quieter I got in my own self, the more basic and quiet in my cues, the more he settled in. Today he had had his runabout yesterday and his getting used to being out again in the world. Today I got on and partner kept coming up in my mind. Today I bridled him slowly. I thought about how it felt to be saddled, how it felt to be treated by human hands, how a horse wants to be with the calmest, strongest leader. So they can relax. They aren't so different than us. So today I watched my horse through my legs when I rode, and I stacked up my body like building blocks so I wouldn't cave in at the top, like I do when I get scared. I rode upright. I let him move forward. I let him ride next to other horses because I was tuned in to his mood and saw that he wasn't going to get playful and forget I was up there and have a nice romp. I kept reminding him I was up there by changing speed and direction, giving him things to do, it's not that different from teaching a class of 3rd graders. Or raising kids. You do actually have to work a little bit. But instead of thinking of it like THIS HAS TO BE THIS WAY, I just used my legs as walls, and let him lean the right way by asking him and allowing him to move, softening the wall on one side means you are welcome to go over here. It will be nice over here, I promise. So then Dewey loves to work. Also he is long legged and slightly wobbly to the right, his weak cantering side, but he worked on that side for me and I held him up with my inside leg, and together, we worked together to make our ride interesting, varied, fun, challenging. Out there in the world. Instead of trying to yell it all, or contain it all, I let it crash over me in a wave, and let the water trickle back out and we were still standing there working together. It helps to know your horse. I guess when things seem frustrating I just want to get rid of him but maybe knowing your horse is actually a really good thing. He's not always in the mood, and I'm not always in the brave mood, but today it was just crisp out, and morning and I didn't have any other responsibilities, and things have been busy and hard lately and this morning just popped out and we were working together under the big sky as a team. Both of us listening. Being able to give. We gave whatever we could to make it work, and then we're both happy at the end. I should get off my high horse and do this in other areas of life. It's such a powerful thing, to give everything you have, and first listen, to yourself and to the horse. (or the human) The horse will tell you the truth. But first you have to be so quiet, and shut off that rational brain. The brain is too noisy and most of it means nothing. You can feel what means something. With riding I get to feel from different rarely used muscles in my whole body. It's a pretty miraculous thing. Dewey has done so many things growing up that have made me terrified of him and his strength and power. But maybe he's teaching me something. Break things down into small pieces. Enjoy the path, and let him graze. Let him be a horse, but let him work for me. When we free up that bond by practice, small and simple, and listening with just the middle of my self- that is interesting. Seeing where it takes us.

Dewey Scrapes By

Lemme talk about Dewey for a minute. He was doing so well and I wish he had told me before becoming buckaroo bonsai that he didn't so much like harnessing and the way the straps would hit him in the tender loin area. Because last time I harnessed him (and I was CAREFUL, knowing he was a little sensitive), he started jumping around like his feet were on fire. He in fact ended up with his back leg on TOP of the fence. Stuck there. Til he ripped it down scraping himself nicely. Which is healing now, a week later. Bucking in front of me does not make me want to ride him. Luckily, now everytime he sees a saddle a bridle or anything with straps, he starts dancing around in fear so the chance to ride him becomes less and less a realistic situation. So I check the internet and it says now that you've made your horse terrified, you have to saddle him a bunch of times in a retardedly slow way until saddling is no big deal anymore. The fun quotient is way down on the riding right now. Before this new fun situation, I pretty much stopped riding trail because it took too long to get out there and Becky got attacked by a coyote last time. And I don't like going out alone that much, and I got tired of riding with the neighbor ladies because my horse liked to frolic too much with their horses. In reality, I have a horse that needs a huge pasture and some buddies to play with. He needs to get his energy out, play and then come in for rides in a good frame of mind. He's tried really hard to be a good horse, and I've tried really hard to help him succeed. But it has been all work and no play. I got Dewey a sheep to keep him company and then I've kinda stepped back in the anxious rider department. I'm just making sure he gets exercise, and we're doing arena work. But he has hives from this weird weather or weird hay who knows. And he's sore from the leg he hyperextended during his harness freak out. So now if I tried to sell him it would be impossible because he's terrified of saddling, riddled with bumps from hives, sore on the leg. This may be something to look back on in a month and laugh. For now, it's just this was my recreation. It's become a drag. And no happy riding makes me a grumpy mom. Plus my son is failing algebra 2. That sucks. Oh and a 100 year old man told me I'm annoying. And I have a terrible cold. I need a mom. that'sallloveclyde

The More You Do It, the Less Impossible It Seems

It was freezing, wet ground, windy and blustery this morning so I thought, it's a good day to ground drive Dewey to the park. Also, it's trash truck Monday, why not add another diversion to test the poor guy. Hadn't driven him a week, and put on his harness and for some reason he had a little freak out like he was suddenly surprised he didn't like the harness on his butt, and bounced around a little in the barn but he didn't really go anywhere, so I kept harnessing him up and checked all his straps and then we were off to the park. In the driveway there is a huge chocolate brown tarp that is billowing up over the bicycles and a ladder on the other side, and Dewey is eyeing it all but he walks past it. We head out the gate, and he's still feeling the wind, and being a young TB, but I start driving him and we settle in. I decided when you ground drive you have to pretend you are actually on a carriage ride, and act accordingly. So you keep an eye out for danger, keep your horse moving forward, and feel his mouth on the end of the rein. He's trusting you. Dewey settles in alongside the trafficky road, and next to the dogs barking at houses we pass. We take a different route to the park, and once in the park we pass white plastic bagged trash waiting to be picked up, and we trot through the park on a route we don't usually go - I make a loop through the trees, and along the outline of the park and you know what, Dewey loves to work. He loves to do nothing MORE, but when he's all harnessed up, he wants to go somewhere. We go into the park arena, and I unharness him and let him roll. The sun feels so good I sit down in the middle of the arena on the drying wet sand from rain last night, and I lie flat on the ground. Then I look up and Dewey is laying flat on the ground too. It just feels good. I go over and sit on him, the big warm cow that he is, and we reflect on how we're doing that day. Or at least I do. Then chase him around so he can gallop and stretch his legs. Harness him back up, and we head back out down the road, past flapping tarps. On our little sidestreet I forget to watch where we're going, I just feel him. I feel his head relax down, I feel him moving forward freely, I guide him side to side, to make our connection solid and gentle. A huge trash truck comes barreling at us and I wave loudly at him and he stops and cuts his engine, which I wish he didn't, I just wanted him to slow down. Dewey passes the trash truck with no problem. We walk home as one horsepersonanimal - driving is the same as riding because Dewey is waiting to see what I want, and waiting to fulfill it. He's also happy to just be out exploring. On the secret path right before our house is a long skinny bamboo that's fallen across the path. Dewey stops and wants to turn around, but he just stops. I pet him and let him stand there. Then I encourage him forward. He's still saying uhhh, that stick is blowing in the wind. If I step on that stick it will move. I will be scared. I stop and let him relax, like we're not going anywhere. We're just going to stay here. We stand there for awhile until the fear goes away. Dewey does not want to go over the stick, but I gently pick up the reins and say come on, let's just walk over it. He walks over it. I'm getting better and handling the whip, and tossing it over him so I can help speed him up or guide him that way. Before it felt very heavy and awkward. Practice is helping. Yesterday I put two kids on him double for the first time in his life, and walked them around. Four legs on him and he was fine with it. He likes to be part of the family. He knows he belongs. What a pretty nice thing for any of us to have, right? As for driving, it is helping to do each step - I had him pulling chain for the first time last week. And I walked him with PVC pipe against his side to get him used to shafts. It's exciting to be getting him used to all the things he'd have to endure as a driving horse. Mostly, though, it's nice to learn from off his back, that this horse will do anything I ask him. He will try. He's trusting me. So it's only fair to ask him to do things he can succeed at - then we both can build our confidence. Blustery trash truck freezing day - go out and do it. The more you do it, the less impossible it seems. I can even see doing a parade. Because then the noise is just part of the ride. If you say it's okay, your horse can be worried, but if you keep him going, then he will see it's okay. Then it's just part of the day.