Out On A Trail Ride

I'm going on an extended trail ride. Till next time...

Why I Love Living Here

Every other fall, the farmer who plants in the field behind our house pastures his horses for a few months. Here, my girls say hi.

Nixing the Fourth Horse

My husband and I decided, in light of the country's economic woes, we will put our search for a fourth horse on hold.

Did you hear the huge sigh of relief from my house?

Riding My Nemesis

If I could have picked any horse, I wouldn't have picked Cosette.

My family and I are running late to join some friends for a trail ride. We have three horses, which the kids will ride, and my husband and I need to borrow a couple. Our friends have two tacked up and ready. The one I am riding is Cosette.

A few years ago, Cosette dumped me on my rear during a riding party.

"We can change horses, if you want," my husband says, who will be riding sweet Josie, by far one of my favorites.

But everyone's already waiting, and it would involve changing saddles or at least stirrup lengths. "I'll be okay," I assure him, even though I am nervous as heck.

***

She tosses her head like a rebellious teenager (she's 7 I think, under 10 at any rate) and when she passes her "house" (she's actually the horse of my friend's daughter), she sidepasses and wants to turn back.

We make it past the houses and road, the train tracks and a gate with a little bottom panel which she jumps and gets my heart racing. Out in the open field, she pulls at the bit, and I ask my friend if she gets out of control loping.

"She loves to run," she says.

I can't hold her back any longer. So, taking my friend's advice, I hold onto the reins with one hand and the saddle horn with the other.

I feel like a genuine, true-blue cowgirl, my hair streaming in the wind, my horse galloping under me, taking a jump here and there that threaten to spill me, but I hang on, stay on. I am laughing and my husband tells me I look great.

I'm tiring 'ol Cosette out, and it can only be good, right?

***

My favorite part of the trail ride is this:



A meadow of tall yellow grasses swaying in the breeze, lending luster to a pack of riders up ahead. It is like a chest full of gold treasure, where every step, you wonder if you will discover something, and yes, to the left of me at one point, there is a tire. Other than that, it is just a beautiful fall carpet. There is a secret hush as we pass through, and I hate for it to end.

***

We cannot go up the mine we were originally wanting to see. But we see coyotes along the way, tan-colored creatures that lope like playful dogs.

Cosette tosses her head still, even as I try to keep her to a walk going home,and I am saddle sore, but I am in one piece, and I am happy.

Sunset Posse

I took the kids to ride last night at Stable X's large, outdoor jumping arena. It was eight and already, the sun had set behind the mountains. But it was still light, the sky a pale blue like faded jeans. I sat on a chair while my three children rode their horses, each a different color: palomino, gray and chestnut, a color combination that never fails to make me think of the kids and their horses as some sort of a cool posse.

In the north sky, a three-quarter moon hung low. Somewhere in the distance, dogs barked excitedly, perhaps at their masters coming home. The cool September evening air chilled me, but not enough to warrant the hoodie tied around my waist.

My children loped around me, and I could feel their exhilaration as though I were the one sitting in their saddles.

The moon, stretches of green still for miles around me, the crisp fall air, and my three children on their horses enjoying themselves...

I felt a deep contentment settle in my bones.

History: Horse Audition

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See the right sidebar for other posts.]

I got C's name from someone, I forget now who. I looked her up in the phone book,got her husband's name, and left a message. She called me back later that evening.

"Is this Jewel?" she asked. She had a loud voice, so loud that even when I put the earpiece away from me, I could still hear her clearly. First thing she told me was that her husband didn't like horse phone calls at his place of business (which is what I called at first) so to call her on her cell number next time.

C ran "Stable X". I asked her if she did riding lessons, that I was interested for my children to take turns (at $20 a child for an hour, that was about all we could afford).

"Sure," she said. "Come this Wednesday to the riding arena just outside of town."

I mentioned to her that we were seriously thinking about buying a horse. Her voice perked up. She asked me what we were looking for and I told her: older horse, reliable, good-tempered; someone that would not hurt our children, though Sierra would be the main rider. She asked me how much experience Sierra had. When I said 4-H, she told me she had a four year old mustang that might be a good fit, even though she was young.

***

It was a frigid day; we arrived at the arena wearing gloves. A woman in a purple jacket with the stable logo was standing with some girls by a horse trailer. She looked like she was in her fifties, with a curly head of graying hair under an earmuff band, face devoid of makeup with chapped lips. She gave me a welcoming smile, and I instantly warmed to her. But just when I thought she was all warm and fuzzy, BAM! She railed into one of the other kids over something.

Her "storm" passed quickly and she led us inside the arena where Pixie, the mustang, was hitched up at. She was a gray horse, on the small side, with short legs and a rounded body. With C's very minimal help (a teaching philosophy which I think is great in hindsight, but I didn't think so then, scared as I was of the horses)Sierra tacked up Pixie. The two younger children and I climbed up onto the bleachers and I watched with pride as Sierra got Pixie to walk and trot.

Pixie was trotting towards the middle of the arena when all of a sudden, she bolted. Sierra stayed on through the sudden takeoff but looked rattled. Apparently, a big drop of melting ice from the ceiling had fallen on Pixie's back and spooked her.

"What do you think of her?" C asked me as we were untacking Pixie.

"I don't know," I admitted. "She seems sweet enough, but she's so young."

"Why don't you think about it?" she asked. "Sierra can keep taking lessons on her. That'll be great for Pixie, too. They can learn together."

I thought it sounded like a good plan. As fun as Pixie seemed to be, I didn't feel confident in saying "She's the one." Not to mention, I wanted to postpone our decision.

***

During the next few months, the kids took turns taking riding lessons. C was often not diplomatic in her criticism, and sometimes my son would cry, but the kids listened.

Next: Looking for our first horse

History: A Reprieve From the Big Decision

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See the right sidebar for other posts.]

I waited, in vain, for Sierra's horse craziness to subside. I thought that "borrowing" a horse would be an eye-opener for her and she would decide it was too much work to care for a horse.

Well, it didn't work. And borrowing a horse for 4-H wasn't all that great either. Sierra and the girl she shared the horse with sometimes had two minutes between events and had to switch saddles and riders, usually making one late.

In 2005, we decided it was time to take the plunge. It was time to, gulp, start thinking of buying a horse.

***

Buying a horse is not something you go into lightly. And for someone like me who had hardly done anything in my life much to do with horses, the prospect TERRIFIED me. I didn't even know how to halter a horse, for goodness sakes, and I was supposed to help my daughter take care of the horse? We didn't have horse property, so we had to find a boarding place. What about all the tack and saddles we would need? And how were we going to find the time to do horses?

When I stopped hyperventilating, I decided it couldn't be all that bad, or most people wouldn't do it.

I didn't realize that to even consider buying horses, you have to be a touch insane.

For a few months I had a reprieve from this BIG DECISION. It was winter and not really a great time to check out horses. Drew and I decided we would enroll the family in riding lessons.

Next: Horse Audition

Still Looking

We're still looking for a fourth horse.

My husband Drew e-mailed me the other day about a potential horse. Sounded great except for one small thing. The horse does some "random bucking".

*Random bucking*

I e-mailed Drew and told him he made me smile. He wrote back that if we got the horse, I'd have more things to blog about.

In one piece

For the first time ever, yesterday, I hauled a horse trailer by myself without my husband there coaching me. Sierra guided me back, and she told me, "You did everything you were supposed to." We loaded two horses, I drove them down to the next town, and everyone was still in one piece!! Sierra said, "Yehey! We got here safely!"

It's amazing the things you learn how to do when you are desperate.

Actually, I'm glad I had to do this. I feel like hauling the horses across town, just for fun. Well, not quite...

History: Borrowing a Horse

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

Sierra's first horse she showed at 4-H was a pretty paint named Melody (sired by a stallion named Mozart, get it?). Susan's granddaughter Lauren owned Melody. Lauren was too young to show at the regular 4-H, so sharing was not an issue. Susan had another granddaughter, though, Alicia, who rode her in the Senior division.

Melody was a sweet horse, if a bit lazy. She was perfect for someone like Sierra, who was just learning the ropes. Sierra would call Susan to set up appointments. I would take Sierra to her place and she learned how to tack up and ride, mostly at a walk.

At the shows, it was a little tricky sharing a horse. Sometimes, there was just a couple of minutes, literally, between the Senior and Junior divisions, and Alicia would be scrambling because I didn't know how to tack up a horse yet.

I can still picture Sierra in my mind; a little squirt of a girl, in pigtail braids and her cowgirl get-up of peach shirt and red hat. She did well in halter, since Melody was good at standing. She didn't want to lope her yet for Western Pleasure (where they walk, trot, lope), but that was alright. The goal was just to keep her on the horse. And then, at the poles, Sierra finally broke down and cried. She said she was scared, and she didn't want to do it.

Bless her heart; Susan asked Sierra if she could lead her around the poles. Sierra sniffled and said yes, then Susan led her through, this woman bouncing around leading the horse. They registered "no time" but for Sierra, that was a milestone. After that, she was okay doing the speed events (not very fast to begin with, but again, that was okay) by herself.

Borrowing was perfect for us. We wanted to see if Sierra would stick to this new passion of hers, before we (gulp!) might actually look into buying a horse. I will forever be grateful to Susan for sharing her granddaughter's horse, and for helping teach Sierra her first year.

Next: Taking the plunge

How to be popular with a horse

Walk around with a container (in my case a grooming bucket) in your hand late in the evening, when it's past feeding time and they haven't been fed yet. It feels eerie to have dozens of horses stand stock still staring at you and nickering for food you can't give them.

Drowsy kind of day

My two oldest kids competed in a 4-H horse show today. It was a hot, drowsy kind of day. There was a lot of waiting in between events, very tempting to nap. I brought two books to pass the time with, "Anne of Green Gables" and "The English Patient." I would read a page, then my mind would drift.

(I just finished the fourth draft of my novel "Ghost Moon Night" yesterday and my brain was still fried.)

My oldest, Sierra, competed with her three year old palomino paint named Raffiki. She did better in trail than last year. She's come a long way. Wesley was a speed demon. And his horse, Quincy, who normally wouldn't stand for anything, shocked us all by getting a blue (or first place) ribbon in halter.

Yesterday, I took my kids to wash their horses in the wash racks where we board, and I felt strange just waiting in the sidelines while the kids did most of the work. They wash the horses and tack up, pretty much by themselves.

When I think of how we were as a family two and a half years ago (didn't even know how to put a halter on a horse), I am amazed.

My favorite time of day

My favorite time of day at the stables is sunset, when there's that last little bit of sun slanting from the west, and it washes everything gold; a horse swishing its tail, stirring up some dust and a little swarm of insects; nickers and neighing, and the occasional playing. Everything looks beautiful, as though suspended in time and you hate to disturb it with any noise or movement.

Dollar Ride

I've been away to Moab, Utah, with the family this week. My husband has a conference at Red Cliffs Lodge, which is one of the most beautiful desert resorts I've ever stayed at. Next door, a man runs a horseback riding ranch.

Last night, I took my kids on a little walk at dusk to see the horses. I asked the Lodge front desk if we could go pet them. I told her we were going through a little horse withdrawal (meaning, we have horses and we won't be stupid about being around them). The front-desk person said she'd prefer we didn't. I said, but there are two people out there in the pasture with the horses...

She didn't say no or yes, just said to wait during the day, the horses were enjoying their time off. I decided to take my kids anyway (my husband was off-roading) to see what we could see.

The ranch owner was untacking a three year old horse named Tuffy and tacking up a three year old named Dollar. Sierra, my oldest, asked if he named the latter after John Wayne's horse. The owner said yes, didn't she think he looked like him?

We visited a while, then the man excused himself to go train Dollar. We watched in the falling light, a man in a cowboy hat riding this young horse, doing spins and loping in endless circles, probably a good half hour before we couldn't see hardly anything anymore. It was almost ten by the time we were leaving.

That man on a horse, riding quietly in the dusk; he looked like someone who loved his job and was living his dream.

History: I paid for this?

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

The day of Sierra's 8th birthday party arrived. We drove and drove out west to the middle of nowhere; I wondered if maybe I had the address down wrong. But finally, I saw a blue house with a huge red-roofed barn behind it, like Susan described on the phone. At the entryway, a sign said, "Dreamcatcher Ranch."

I drove our minivan down a skinny dirt road past a ramshackle arena full of loose boards, weeds and rocks. I parked beside a sedan and we got out. A woman came out of the house. She had blonde graying hair pulled back in a pony tail and glasses, and wore a white shirt and jeans. She had a way of bouncing lightly on her feet.

"I thought I'd have my daughter's help," she said, "but she had to run an errand."

Susan continued a friendly chatter on the way to the stables, where the horses were. Four horses had saddles on, and looked ready to go. But without her daughter, I had to fill in. I didn't know what I was doing, but somehow, I got kids on, riding double, without any incident. I wasn't sure what I had gotten us into; I had all these horses and girls to keep track of. Some girls were scared which then scared the horses which then scared me. Ally said ,"Oh, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die!" I wasn't much help, really, and Susan was too busy to intervene all the time. I thought, "I paid for this?"

Then the riding was over, all girls accounted for. Sierra had a big smile on her face, and I felt it was worth my feeling like a fool.

Before we left, Susan told me about her life growing up and how she got into horses. She told me that as a teenager, she did not get her parents' support on horses. She worked and saved up, bought her own horse and tack and paid for its boarding. When she needed to go to a 4-H horse show, she had to ride the horse down for about an hour and back. She vowed then that if anyone ever needed a ride for their horse, she would help. And if a kid wanted to ride a horse, she would help. She owned several horses, and they were mostly for others to enjoy.

I looked at this unpretentious woman, at her rough-shod ranch full of flies and piles and discarded appliances. All of a sudden, it didn't seem so rough anymore to me.

"When you turn 9," she told Sierra, "see me about 4-H. I can let you borrow a horse. I've done that with other kids before." Borrow a horse? That sounded good to me. We thanked her and Sierra began counting the days.

Next: Borrowing a Horse

Why we needed a new trailer

This is the one we replaced.

History: Sierra turned 8

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

I wanted Sierra's 8th birthday party to be special. When I asked her what kind of birthday party she wanted, she said she wanted a horseback-riding party.

I looked up "horseback-riding" under the yellow pages, and I think the two numbers I found were disconnected. Somehow --and I don't remember now how -- I found Susan, who owned horse property at the west end of town. She told me that she worked as a nurse during the day, but that Saturday we were looking at, she would be off. It would be $25 for a couple of hours of riding for eight girls. I would probably have spent at least four times that much for a horse-themed party; I told her we'd do it. Sierra waited with giddy anticipation.

Next post: I paid for this?

History: And then "Spirit" came along

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]



You know, the Dreamworks movie about a buckskin mustang named Spirit. It came out in 2002. Sierra, my oldest daughter, was 7. She loved that movie, gobbled it up and begged to watch it over and over.

She discovered a new passion: horses; mustangs in particular.

History: How it really started

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

Every summer, my husband's partner Roddy has hosted a horseback-riding party at his place. Roddy and his wife would saddle up their ten or so horses and people with riding abilities from none (like us initially) to a lot would ride in their arena. I watched my children with pounding heart, but the horses they rode were old, dependable ones. Nobody got injured; the worst thing that happened to me was a horse got fed up with me yanking at the reins it reared up and dumped me on my bum. We rode with running shoes and no helmets; I cared more about how my wind-blown hair would look after the party than my staying safe on a horse.

It would be years later, when the bug would bite, but it had begun to burrow into our skin.

History: My first horse experience

[This is an installment in "How we got into horses". See right sidebar for other posts.]

I was probably 12. One Sunday afternoon, Dad took me and my brother to Quezon Circle Park, which was just a short walk away from the government housing we lived at. Dad decided we should ride a horse; someone was giving rides for a certain amount of money for an hour.

My brother got to go first. I was so excited, but when a half hour came and they were still not within sight, I began to worry. The hour was almost up, and they hadn't returned. Finally, in the dusk, I saw my brother being led on a horse by the operator. I had maybe five minutes. So I sat in that saddle, trying to hold back tears, and instead of focusing on the fact that I was on a horse, all I could think of was being so mad with my brother.

Years later, I have three horses at my disposal, and if I actually ride any one of them for five minutes, it's short of a miracle.

The Smiles I Love to See

Today, my two oldest children competed in a practice 4-H horse show. Sierra, 12, rode her four year old palomino paint Raffiki, which she won from a "contest" (more about that later) and trained herself (despite getting bucked off, more about that later, too). Wesley, 10, rode his 20-something chestnut Quincy. At the last event, Raffiki did not listen to Sierra, but did lope pretty well at the last. I thought for sure Sierra would be upset, but she was smiling when she went out of the gate. Wesley got third place ribbon (white) for halter. With a smile, he said as he left the arena: "He did a lot better than other times!"

Their smiles melted my heart.