I shuffle across the cold kitchen floor, trying not to step on Matilda the tenacious heeler. It’s pitch dark in the house. The clouds glutting the eastern sky outside my kitchen window are saturated with red, like the dishrag you use to sop up the kids’ spilled cranberry juice. I explore the countertop with one hand, fingers finding the cord, and plug in the coffee percolator. Just like the one my mom had in 1965. The clock says 5:30 AM. The cow dog and I are the official waker-uppers of our household. But it’s an hour yet before I have to rouse the kids for school.

I’m enjoying the quiet.

I throw another piñon log on the damped-down stove and leave the door slightly open. The coals spark to life. The coffee percolator begins its space shuttle takeoff routine, whirring and sputtering like a stainless steel dervish. Each morning it threatens to rend a hole in my roof as it revs up for yet another lunar mission wannabe, but I’m too sleepy to stand by and see if it actually achieves liftoff today. For a moment, I consider lying down in front of the fire, curled up with the warm wooly dog beside me to soak up those delicious waves of heat. Just for a few moments. Until coffee’s done. Or, better yet, until the percolator lulls me back to sleep. But I know I can’t.

In the dark, my hand knows exactly where it is. I switch on the kitchen light. Suddenly Matilda the heeler is grinning at me in full top-of-the-morning technicolor, big ears straight up like arrows, bobtail wagging, her crazy-quilt hindquarters wriggling in anticipation. She knows what's coming. So do I.

And the whinnying begins.

I look out the kitchen window through the curtain of icicles to see all five of my horses lined up military style, staring at my kitchen window, ears pricked, hollering for all they're worth. They want their breakfast. They want it now, dammit. Pavlov’s ponies, I think. For a moment, I wickedly wonder what would happen if I turned the kitchen light on and off, on and off. Would they whinny and stop? whinny and stop? I remember when we fenced in that pasture, telling my husband how nice it would be that I could look out the kitchen window and see all of my horses anytime I wanted to.

Trouble is, they can see me!

I fill a mug, hold it in my hands, relishing the coffee’s heat, and take the first sip of the morning. There’s nothing like it as the caffeine begins to rush through my veins. If only I could have a couple of cups before venturing outside, I think. But there’s also nothing like the chorus of whinnies resounding from my pasture. And the geese are beginning to chime in.

I grab the thermal Carhartt’s hanging by the door and get ready to head out into the pre-dawn cold to feed them. I am the waker-upper and the chuck wagon. Matilda is one step ahead of me.

Flickr photo credits: Mountain Mike; vera bing; Mountain Mike

Posted by Kimberly at January 30, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Look at the feather's on this big fellow's fetlocks! I have a thing for these horses. Beautiful!

Posted by Kimberly at January 29, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jane and Thunderbolt are shocked to realize that, regardless of her claims, her kids are right—

She is definitely not cool.

Image Sources: Retro Toys; The Official Bratz Site

Posted by Kimberly at January 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

25 years ago, as I was strolling out of Central Park during my first visit to the city, I was stunned to see two horses and their riders in full English gear weaving their way in and out of traffic at the bottom of the canyon of concrete and steel. The pedestrian traffic light signaled me to cross, but instead I found myself with feet glued to the sidewalk, staring. Late mid-afternoon, the sun was slipping behind the towering glass edifices, shadows lengthening much like they do at the foot of our mesa at the end of each day. The horses’ copper-colored tails disappeared around the corner of a building that spiraled up into the small patch of sky, leaving me wondering if they were real or a mirage.

Many years later, I mentioned this experience to my then-neighbor S. I had a house in the Pojoaque Valley here in Northern New Mexico at the time. He was visiting with me and my appaloosa mare, Lacey, of whom he was very fond. She ruffled his hair with her polka-dotted lips and blew at him through her big nostrils. She liked him too.

A quiet young man who’d grown up in New York City, S. described to me the job he’d had as a teenager at the Claremont Riding Academy in Upper Manhattan, a couple of blocks west of Central Park and how much he’d loved the opportunity to be around the horses, any horses. He told me in great detail about the four-story apartment building for equines where grooms send mounts down to their waiting riders via ramps and elevators. His words painted pictures of gears, pulleys, fetlocks, hooves, pavement. I think that’s where those Central Park riders must have been returning to.

Shortly thereafter, S. became very ill and was diagnosed with AIDs. When he returned from one of his long hospital stays, I had a hard time hiding my shock at how the disease had diminished his already petite frame. His almond eyes were hollow, face gaunt. We were sitting together in my little barn on bales of straw surrounded by my ridiculously nosey geese, whose antics had just made us break into peals of laughter, when told me he didn’t know if he was going to live very long.

I had a dream about S. the other night. It’s been 15 years since I've seen him.

I was leading him once again on my appaloosa mare down the Pojoaque creek towards the Rio Grande. Sometimes when Lacey and I’d take him out, he was able to ride along behind me. But today S. wasn’t feeling too strong. So he clasped the saddle horn with his two dark, child-like hands as I led Lacey into the barrancas, up the deep sandy arroyo into the red-rocked canyons. Indian paintbrush bloomed miraculously from the cracks and crevices. The sun was going down in flames over the Jemez mountains, burning our shadows onto the canyon wall. I told S. about the small natural spring up there that some of the local kids had told me about and how I was hoping to find it. We talked about looking for it together.

But we never did.

Flickr photo credits: Skardhamar ; Caroline

Posted by Kimberly at January 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Afghan horse riders fight to get the goat during a 'buzkashi' game between Parwan and Panshir provinces in Kabul, Afghanistan, today. Buzkashi is the national sport of Afghanistan, in which players fight to place a goat carcass into a circle goal.

Afghanistan Online—

In Buzkashi, which means literally “goat grabbing”, a headless carcass is placed in the center of a circle and surrounded by the players of two opposing teams. The object of the game, is to get control of the carcass and bring it to the scoring area. Although it seems like a simple task, it is not. Only the most masterful players, (called chapandaz) ever even get close to the carcass.

The competition is fierce, and the winner of a match receives prizes that have been donated by a sponsor. These prizes range from money, to fine turbans and clothes. In order for someone to become a chapandaz, one must undergo a tremendous amount of difficult training. In fact, the best chapandaz, are usually over the age of forty. Buzkashi, is definitely not a game for the weak.

The horses that participate in buzkashi must train for five years before ever making it to the playing field. Buzkashi, is indeed a dangerous sport, but intensive training and excellent communication between the horse and rider can help minimize the risk of injury.

The different types of Buzkashi: Tudabarai & Qarajai

In Tudabarai, in order to score, the rider must obtain possession of the carcass and then carry it away from the starting circle in any direction. The rider must stay free and clear of the other riders.

In Qarajai, the task is much more complex. The player must carry the calf around a marker, and then return the carcass to the team's designated scoring circle.

Source: Afghanistan Online

Photo Credits: Musadeq Sadeq; Musadeq Sadeq; Musadeq Sadeq ; Musadeq Sadeq

Posted by Kimberly at January 27, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

In rural Northern New Mexico, when meeting an oncoming pickup truck, the etiquette is simple—you wave. It’s a matter of community and just plain old manners. This rule doesn’t apply on the interstate. BusyMom on the proper response to letting you merge in front of her in traffic—

In return, you must give me "the wave", although it's not really a wave, there's no flapping fingers or lateral arm movement involved. It's more just sticking your hand up in the air far enough for me to see it through your back windshield, thus indicating that you realize that I overcame my natural tendency to not let you in just because, well, just because. Non-"the wave"-givers will be persecuted.

Good truck etiquette includes a wide variety of waves. Which wave to use is up to the discretion of the driver.

When I am driving my mid-sized SUV I generally greet oncoming drivers with the five-fingered, hand-just-slightly-above-the-steering-wheel wave. Straightforward. Clean. Friendly. Seems appropriate to me for the SUV-driving mom. I may wave a little more energetically, even raise the hand and apply some elbow action, if the driver of the oncoming vehicle is a also mom with a carload of kids.

Driving my husband’s GMC 454 crew cab, a.k.a. The Big DAWG, requires slightly more aplomb. With a winch and steel cable on her nose, Dwight Yokum crooning on the CD player, Dennis’ old Stetson in the hat holder, and the DAWG’s distinctive dings, scratches, and scruffy interior that mark her as the total workhorse she is, I prefer the cool lifting of the index finger from the steering wheel, especially when pulling the Sundowner and a load of horses up to the Pecos.

I don’t persecute non-“the wave”-givers like BusyMom, but I am disappointed by their lack of manners!

Flickr photo credits: Special ; Djll ; Ideaconstructor

Posted by Kimberly at January 25, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

No. Not my horse. Me.

I was leading my young percheron horse from barn to round pen. Full-of-himself percheron on the lead line in my right hand. Long lines and longing whip in my left. Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler—self-emancipated just seconds ago from the confines of the fenced yard and restored to her God-given place as the boss of Toby—trotting behind the big horse with all the pertinacity of a sucker fish glued to a great white shark.

Near the round pen, my left foot finds what is most likely the only hole for miles around, and sticks there. Toby and Matilda proceed onward. I lose my balance, fall, and twist my ankle in a way nature never intended.

As a result, I spent the weekend like this, entertaining—as BusyMom recently did—ideas of getting myself one of these while also wondering when I will ever learn not to try to do everything at once …

Luckily, no broken bones, but I am on crutches for a week and yesterday even motored up and down the aisles of the Wal-Mart (Where I actually saw a made-in-China version of one of these for a much better price, by the way.) on one of those little electric carts complete with both forward and reverse gear.

The doc says 4 to 6 weeks to heal completely.

Very lame.

Flickr photo credits: Littlefoot mek ; Claude@Munich

Posted by Kimberly at January 25, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

SPBragg at Aging Fabulous tells us this morning that a little dreaming will do you good—

“Sometimes we take life way too seriously and we forget that taking care of body and mind is just as important as our job. I know that I did a lot of daydreaming when I was younger and then the kids/ career came along and there was little time left for me. Actually, if I had been smarter, I would have made time back then!”

I’m looking out of my kitchen window this morning at the snow-covered Pecos Mountains and daydreaming about the Spring thaw and heading up the trail into the Rocky Mountain foothills on our horses .

I’m longing for the deep blue mountain lakes and the lush green meadows that literally carpet the earth at 8,000+ feet. We can trailer our horses up there in an hour from our small ranch, and all of a sudden we’re transported from the high desert to Alpine meadows, rushing streams, majestic pines and quivering aspen trees.

I’ve got a fire roaring in the wood burninig stove this morning, cup of hot coffee in hand, Blue Heeler dog sitting at my feet, but part of me is up there in those mountains .

SPBragg is right on target! A little dreaming does us good.

The ancient Celts believed that horses could carry the rider between worlds, from one to the other. Between the world of day-to-day living and the world of dreams. Our horses are effective at transporting us from the mundane to the extraordinary, if we allow it to happen. Take time for some dreaming today. Hope you have a lovely Saturday.

Flickr photo credits: Linda6769; h.neu

Posted by Kimberly at January 21, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

How Do You Feel?

Like many on the blogosphere, I’m watching Renee over at reneegetsfit in her “daily adventures against fat fighting.” She is one courageous woman, in my humble estimation, to share her weight loss journey!

At 44, I struggle with my weight every day, and it’s not getting easier. I’m sure my horses don’t appreciate the extra 15 pounds I put on last winter and still haven’t managed to take off. I wonder sometimes, when my horse cranes her neck around to gaze back at me when we’ve stopped for a breather, if she isn’t saying, “Hey, why don’t you go on a diet? You’re getting HEAVIER.”

Renee writes, “The other night I was sitting @ the computer, just working away straining my eyes and carpal tunneling my right hand as usual, when all of a sudden the weight of the flab just settled around me, like a house settling into it's foundation.”

I really feel what she says, and it doesn’t feel good at all. In fact, it feels awful. But how many of us do feel that way more often than not, I wonder?

This is a tough culture for women. I hear it in Renee’s words. It is echoed in the words of my women friends when they tell me how fat they are, when they are not. There are some pretty unrealistic expectations about how we are supposed to look. As a lifetime equestrian, I’m a reasonably fit woman, but I sure don’t look like one of those women on the front of Shape magazine. Most of us mere mortal women don’t, and never will.

By maintaining a healthy weight, there’s no doubt that we’ll feel better, live longer, have a higher quality of life. Those are all good things I'd like to have. As a horsewoman, having a healthy body enables me to ride and take care of a barn full of horses at home. And, in fact, the day-to-day tasks of taking care of my horses help to keep me in better shape. The fitness experts are correct in encouraging us to stay healthy by doing activities that we enjoy.

I think that as we strive for healthier bodies and take care of ourselves, maybe instead of weighing ourselves, calculating our body fat percentages, fretting over a piece of cake, or worrying about whether we’re meeting those unrealistic cultural expectations, we should take a break and ask ourselves—

How do I feel?

Answering this question requires a shift in my focus. Admittedly, that takes some effort because of the cultural conditioning involved. It’s a matter of looking inside instead of outside. It’s also involves being kinder to myself. And it gives me permission to revel in the day-to-day.

Let’s see …

I know I feel great when I take a long walk. Doing a few yoga stretches in the morning before I begin my day makes all the difference in my outlook. It feels excellent to keep up with my 8-year-old son when we hike to the top of the mesa. (Even if I am a little breathless.) I can boost my 60-lb daughter up into the saddle, no problem. I can lift bales of hay. Push a wheelbarrow full of horse manure. (Oh joy...) I feel wonderful when I can work with my horses and use my body to communicate with them. Although it may not be the most elegant mount at a canter, I can vault onto our vaulting horse the majority of the time! I admit that I feel a sense of accomplishment when I climb up onto the back of my 17+ hand Percheron, not by any means an effortless feat for me. I had to run that big fellow down the other day when he escaped from the pasture. I’m no runner, but I did OK. A bucketful of oats helped.

When I am aware of how good I feel vs. what the scales say as I try to maintain a moderately active and healthy lifestyle, I stop fretting so much because I can pinch an inch (or more!). I try not to allow it to become a barometer for how I feel about myself. That’s my challenge. And in this culture, it’s a big one.

I’m giving myself a break. I hope you will too. I’d rather revel than fret any day.

I’m going to enjoy my horses.

Flickr photo credits: Eda Cherry; northern girl; marenB

Posted by Kimberly at January 19, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Somewhere... Somewhere in time's Own Space
There must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow
Some Paradise where horses go,
For by the love that guides my pen
I know great horses live again.
~ Stanley Harrison

Flickr photo credit: wireful

Posted by Kimberly at January 19, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

From fallingsky.blogs.com. A man rides a horse through a bonfire during the traditional 'Luminares' fiesta in the village of Sant Bartolome de Pinares, Spain. The ancient ritual is said to purify the horses on the eve of Sant Anton.

From sacred-texts.com. Saint Anthony is patron of horses, asses, mules, and other four-footed beasts. On his day farmers in towns and villages throughout Spain decorate their animals with flowers, ribbons, and bells and drive them to a church dedicated to Saint Anthony.

There the priest administers a barley wafer to the odd communicants, sprinkles them with holy water and invokes Saint Anthony's blessing against accident and disease during the coming year. Many believe the blessing guarantees a long and healthy life for their animal companions.

All day processions of animals pass through the streets, much to the entertainment of bystanders who watch the antics of balky mules, horses, and oxen as they are led toward the sanctuary.

Photo credits: sfgate.com; Dani Cardona; Dani Cardona

Posted by Kimberly at January 19, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Plow Pose

Maintaining a flexible spine not only helps to keep us younger but enhances our ability to ride our horses.

Regular practice of the plow pose (Halasana) and its variations greatly increase the flexibility of the upper region of the spine. It releases tension in the neck and throat. And as it stretches and strengthens the muscles of the back, shoulders, and arms, plow pose is a very good stretch for the equestrian athlete.

Ready?

From the shoulder stand, exhale and bend from the hip joints to slowly lower your feet to the ground above and beyond your head. The legs should be extended and the spinal column should be as perpendicular to the ground as possible. When your toes are on the ground, raise your lower back and pelvis towards the ceiling.

Maintain a relaxed and soft neck. Drawing your chin away from your chest helps. Press your arms down on the ground.

A variation of this pose is to release your lower back and stretch your hands out behind you on the ground opposite to the legs. Clasp your hands together. You can bend your knees for a deeper stretch. You can also do this pose with your feet apart. Straighten the knees and walk the feet out to the sides as far as possible.

The plow pose is usually performed from 1 to 5 minutes. Remember to breathe while holding the pose. Exit the pose by bringing the arms to your lower back region and roll out of the pose on an exhalation.

By enhancing the flexibility of your spine, you and your horse will enjoy a much smoother ride!

Posted by Kimberly at January 18, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

J. and Caprichosa are trotting up the trail ahead of me. My nine-year-old daughter is holding the reins in one hand and has twisted around in the saddle to recount a long and detailed story about something that happened at school the other day.

But I don’t really hear her.

Instead I see the lightness of her seat, the ease with which she sits the two-beat gait. Her heels down and back in the stirrup irons. That small, straight back. The easy arch of the white mare’s neck. The softness of her jaw as she yields to my little girl’s hand.

J. grins at me, and for a moment I think of her rubbing her pudgy baby hands all over Caprichosa’s head with unadulterated glee. Was it that long ago?

At the bottom of the last long hill before home, she asks, “Mom, can we canter?” And I say, yes, of course you can.

Girl and horse unfurl in a banner of red and white—the two-sizes-too-small red fleece jacket with galloping horse appliqué that J. steadfastly refuses to give up; and the horse’s hooves effervescing in a silver blur beneath my daughter. Her legs suddenly seem longer than ever in her riding tights and boots.

My own horse shakes her head and blows meaningfully through her nostrils, letting me know that she’s impatient to catch up like we usually do. But I ask her to wait at the bottom of the hill, which she does begrudgingly.

Letting them go.

Flickr Photo Credits: oc girl; ashleigh44

Posted by Kimberly at January 17, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Gipsy gold does not chink and glitter. It gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark.
~Saying of the Claddagh Gipsies of Galway

Flickr Photo Credit: teenpics

Posted by Kimberly at January 17, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Forward Bend

The forward bend (Uttanasana) is a popular hatha yoga stretch. The forward bend increases the flexibility of the spine, hips, sciatic nerves, tendons, and ligaments of the legs. It provides a complete stretch to the back side of the body and rejuvenates the spinal nerves. Overall, it is a superb stretch for the equestrian athlete, and because of its popularity, there are several variations. I like to practice this one right before getting into the saddle.

Let’s begin.

Stand with the feet shoulder width apart. Inhale, then exhale, pulling the navel to the spine, maintaining an active center.

Bend forward from the hip joints, not from the waist. Lengthen the front torso as you move into position.
Let the head hang, with palms placed flat on the floor near the feet if you can. Stay in the pose for 30 seconds to 1 minute.

Now, to come up. Don’t roll your spine. Remember to hold your center, navel to spine. Bring your hands to your hips and lengthen the front torso. Press your tailbone down and into the pelvis. Slowly come up on an inhalation with a long front torso.

This forward bend feels so good and is a great tension tamer. The practice of yoga can greatly enhance our horsemanship and our experience in the saddle. Our horses will be happy with limber and relaxed riders on board.

Posted by Kimberly at January 13, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Chicago Tribune. He strolled the hospital corridor, shoes clicking on the linoleum floor.

As he walked toward the rehabilitation unit, patients did a double take and reached down to stroke his back.

Elvis was just doing his job.

The 32-inch-tall American Miniature horse makes monthly rounds at North Broward Medical Center as part of an equestrian therapy program called Let's Peace it Together, Inc.

Let’s Peace it Together founder Donna Jellis brings tiny steeds to several South Florida hospitals for hour-long visits, and the patients respond well. "They get so excited," said Jellis, of Pompano Beach, Florida. "It's a unique thing to see a horse in the hospital. It takes their mind off whatever pain they're going through. There's something healing about it. It's amazing."

Equine therapists are making the rounds in various locales, serving many people in need of hope.

With sometimes up to five mini horses loaded in the back of her minivan, the Austin based Hearts & Hooves founder Veronique Matthews travels to hospitals, nursing homes, Alzheimer units, state hospitals, schools for the blind and deaf, neuro rehabilitation centers, schools for persons with disabilities, women's abuse centers and anywhere these animals can make a difference.

The Guide Horse Foundation of Kittrell, North Carolina is committed to delivering Guide Horses at no cost to the blind. The organization cites many compelling reasons to use miniature horses as guide animals—

Horses are natural guide animals and have been guiding humans for centuries. In nature, horses have been shown to possess a natural guide instinct. When another horse goes blind in a herd, a sighted horse accepts responsibility for the welfare of the blind horse and guides it with the herd. With humans, many blind people ride horses in equestrian competitions. Some blind people ride alone on trails for many miles, completely relying on the horse to guide them safely to their destination. Through history, Cavalry horses have been known to guide their injured rider to safety.

There's a lot of healing power wrapped up in these mini packages!

Flickr Photo Credits: myrealityphotography ; Chairwarmer
Source: The Chicago Tribune ; Hearts and Hooves; The Guide Horse Foundation

Posted by Kimberly at January 13, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jane West—The Moveable Cowgirl

Tulsa, Oklahoma. 1967. Age 6.

She came out of the MARX toy box with 3 different hats, 2 skirts, 2 blouses, 1 gun belt, 1 kerchief, 1 frying pan, 1 trunk, 1 pistol, 1 mug, 1 coffee pot, 1 rifle, 1 deringer, 1 knife, a couple of branding irons, a purse, and more. Lips lacquered a perpetual fire-engine red, she was the most totally prepared woman I’d met. Even if it was kind of strange that you put her fringed plastic skirt and vest on over her painted-on western shirt and jeans.

Maybe that was just part of Jane’s delusion about traveling light. Because most of her changeable western gear didn’t fit into the saddlebags that came with her palomino horse Thunderbolt.

So on Jane’s epic and often lonesome horseback journeys across the black linoleum floor of our rental house (My parents were on a tight budget, and I didn’t have her partner Johnny West, daughter Janice, the brunette girlfriend, or faithful ranch dog), I toted the fully jointed cowgirl’s stuff behind her in a Florsheim shoe box.

I loved her anyway.

Photo sources: Vintage Toy Room ; appaloosa

Posted by Kimberly at January 12, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

He doth nothing but talk of his horses.
~William Shakespeare

Flickr photo credit: h.neumeyer

Posted by Kimberly at January 11, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

While I waited to pick up my children from their riding lessons at the Santa Fe Horse Park, one of the polo pros came trotting by on his plucky little horse, a throng of polo ponies in tow. This was no single-file endeavor. The copper-colored ponies enveloped him and his mount in a flurry of glistening manes, arched necks, flaring nostrils, flickering ears, sparkling eyes, swishing tails like banners. The little herd buzzed past me in a cloud of churning dust. Twenty lively stepping hooves seemed to belong to one creature instead of five.

That pro had a handful! Right now, I’m taking it one horse at a time. My goal is to pack a horse into the backcountry this summer. Here’s what I’ve done so far …

Choose my lead horse. I didn’t have a horse with prior ponying experience. Our Andalusian Caprichosa seemed like the best candidate for the initial ponying job because at 13, she’s agreeable, fairly well-mannered and has common sense. She neck reins well too. I decided to begin by ponying her best buddy, my husband’s Arabian mare, who also has good ground manners. Starting with two horses who are established friends enabled me to rule out any skirmishes or disagreements. Understanding the pecking order of the herd helps.

Think about initial requirements to begin. I’d suggest the following requirements to begin ponying—a good steady horse with prior ponying experience. If you don't have a horse with ponying experience, then consider her personality. You'll need a horse who is capable of handling some resistance to a lead rope dallied around a saddle horn. Neck reining comes in real handy. Your horses should have been thoroughly sacked out and desensitized to the rope. You also need a safe, enclosed space within which to work. It’s always a good idea to wear a helmet.

First steps. We began our ponying training in the round pen. Riding Caprichosa, I held the lead rope in my hand to begin and didn’t dally it around the saddle horn because that seemed a little too committed to me at the onset of this process. I wanted to check it out first and have a chance to disengage by simply dropping the lead rope if necessary. We worked on the left rein and then on the right on an approximately 20-meter circle at a walk, then a slow trot. Because of her good foundation work, my husband's Arabian mare followed along as nicely as if I was leading her from the ground. We did some figure eights at a walk. Despite the good friendship between the mares, there was a little testiness at times! I scolded them and told them "quit!". We practiced stopping and starting.

Lessons from experience. I learned quickly to maintain a little float in the lead rope and to always pay attention to the horse I was ponying. You don’t want the ponied horse to grind to a halt while your lead horse is trotting forward or you’ll find yourself in the middle of a taffy pull. (Although our old pony did get the best of me recently.) Watching that the rope doesn’t get stuck underneath your lead horse’s tail is important too. Although if you’ve done your sacking out properly beforehand and your horse is fairly desensitized to the rope, it won’t be an issue when it happens and you can simply remove the rope from beneath your horse’s tail and proceed.

Safety first. Don’t tie the rope to your saddle in any way and don’t wrap the lead rope around your hand, of course. Wear a helmet and take it one step at a time. Don't leave the small enclosed space until you and your horses feel pretty comfortable with ponying. If you get stuck, go back a few steps, even if that means going back to the basic leading practice from the ground.

We practiced this successfully in the round pen three times over the next week for ten to fifteen minutes each session. I praised both mares and told them both what geniuses they are each time, of course. After that, we ventured out into my fenced pasture. (I wasn’t quite prepared for the wide open spaces yet.) I began to dally the rope to the saddle horn. With experience, my two horses began to figure it out and work as a team.

We are now working on the gentle trails near our ranch. My lead horse Caprichosa has become very adept at this lead horse business and we’ve moved on to ponying our appaloosa rescue horse with ease. It helps that the appaloosa has had previous packing experience and good ground manners. We’ve even had a few good canters while ponying her along.

Out initial attempts at ponying my youngster Percheron gelding have been a little more colorful! Clueless fellow that he still is at times, he nipped my lead horse on the rump during our first attempt, and she put him in his place immediately. This is the type of situation where a little float in the rope is extremely important. And that experience simply underscored for me the importance of beginning in the round pen or other enclosed area.

I’ll never forget the polo pro and his herd moving in perfect synchronicity from field to barn. What an example of working in harmony with your horses. There’s also something pretty impressive about seeing a horseman navigate the backcountry with a string of packhorses or mules. I always have to just stop and watch in silent appreciation.

Well, it’s empowering to take those first small steps towards the goal of venturing into the wilderness with my gear on a packhorse. The possibility of heading into the mountains for an extended stay, far enough away from civilization for comfort, is a little closer than it was before!

Next step—adding the packsaddle into the equation.

Flickr photo credits: chjazz2; Vanita

Posted by Kimberly at January 11, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

I took the "The Animal Spirit" quiz on gURL.com
		My animal spirit is... The Horse According to shamanistic wisdom, the horse is first and foremost a free spirit, despite being enslaved by humans for thousands of years. Horse people tend to hate being told what to do, but do what they need to do anyway, without complaint or anger. Read more... What is your animal spirit?

Well, I'm disappointed to say that according to this extremely scientific survey, my animal spirit is not the horse!

Instead ...

I took the "The Animal Spirit" quiz on gURL.com
		My animal spirit is... The Coyote According to shamanistic wisdom, coyotes are the animal world's trickster. Coyote people have a way with words, and a unique way of seeing the world. Never ones to take things at face value, coyote people question authority with sly jokes. Read more... What is your animal spirit?

Matilda the tenacious heeler and I chased one of these trickster fellows away from the chicken yard yesterday... Luckily, it's coyote proof.

I demand a re-quiz!

Posted by Kimberly at January 9, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Real Dressage for Real Riders : “Yesterday I decked out in full DQ outfit to ride—green breeches, green shirt, light green jean jacket. Fun... It seems these days I have more fun dressing up to ride than I do dressing up to go to a party.”

It took this cowgirl a few minutes to figure out that D-Q is short for “Dressage Queen,” but I sure know what Emily is talking about!

I have only recently become the very lucky owner of one of those Australian oilskin coats. You know—like the one The Man from Snowy River wears that rainy day when his boss’s colt is delivered by train, and Jessica loses control of the unruly young horse as she’s leading him down the ramp, but The Man From Snowy River doesn’t know she’s a girl, seeing as how she's wearing that long black duster and hat, and he’s real surprised when he grabs the horse's lead rope to help, accidentally knocking her hat off so that her raven hair comes spilling out all over the place, and then their eyes meet?

Yeah.

The long, black oilskin coat had been hanging in my closet for weeks.

It had been way too warm to wear it, and I was beginning to think I’d never get to do anything with it but pull it out of the closet and look at it. Run my fingers over its smooth, oily fabric. Feel the weight of it in my hand. Try to figure out what all those snaps are for. I’d only wanted one since 1982, the year The Man from Snowy River made its debut. And then what I’d been waiting for for over twenty years happened.

We got one of those big, nice, juicy New Mexico rains that strolls and meanders through the mountains to the mesa and finally wanders down to my little ranch.

Caprichosa puckered up her lips in a sour grimace and squinted her eyes in disbelief as I asked her to jog down the trail straight into the silver curtain of rain. I pulled the brim of my black cowboy hat down just a little further with one gloved hand. Adjusted the collar of my coat.

The Woman From Snowy River.

Posted by Kimberly at January 6, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Here in New Mexico, I’ve taken down my Christmas tree and packed away the ornaments. I couldn’t bring myself to put away the set of jingle bells I attached to my western saddle for the season, though. Those are definitely going to stay out of the box a while longer, and my horse is finally used to them!

Today, in the Romanian village of Pietrosani, 45km (30 miles) north of Bucharest (wiki), villagers raced their horses through the streets in an annual horse race organized by Orthodox believers to celebrate Epiphany Day (wiki).

This holiday marks the end of the Christmas season festivities in Romania. Prior to their muddy gallop about, horses and riders were blessed by the local priest.

Jingle bells or not, I recently celebrated my very own horsewoman’s epiphany (a purely personal holiday) on December 21, Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year here in the Northern Hemisphere. This time of year we count the bales of hay in the barn to see if we’ve got enough to make it until the Spring delivery.

Each day is getting a little longer now. And as far as I’m concerned, that means just one thing—more time to ride!

Photo Credits: Mihai Barbu ; Mihai Barbu; Mihai Barbu

Posted by Kimberly at January 6, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

A horse who knows how to neck rein is a sheer joy on the trail. You can begin teaching the neck rein regardless of your horse’s age. I work on it with my horses every time we’re on the trail. My little rescue appaloosa is beginning to get it even though we haven’t had a lot of time for practice. Like most things in horse training, consistency is the key to teaching the neck rein.

So how do you navigate the change from direct reining to a turn whenever your horse feels the weight of a light rein against his neck?

The answer is threefold.

Every time I ask for a turn, my horse feels me using these three aids simultaneously—

(1) Direct/opening rein: For a left turn, he feels the opening of the rein on the left side of his bit, inviting him into the turn.

(2) The neck rein: He feels the outside/right rein sideways against the right side of his neck.

(3) Legs: He feels my outside/right leg slightly back from my hip and to just behind the girth to encourage him to bend around the curve and not let his hindquarters fall out. He feels my inside/left seat bone a little forward with the leg at the girth.

When teaching the neck rein, I am applying the direct/opening rein and the neck rein in a very deliberate manner every time I ask for a turn. By signaling with these cues at each turn, I can gradually train my horse to respond to the leg alone or the neck rein alone. As my goal during these trail rides is to put a nice neck rein on my horse, I’m going to use the neck rein first, then my leg.

Here in northern New Mexico, weaving in and out of the piñon trees makes perfect practice. Begin at a walk, and then over time you can work your way up to a soft trot in and out of trees. What a lovely, light feeling this is! Years ago I had an apple orchard that made for a wonderful equitation course. My mare and I would float in and out of the trees. If you do this every time you’re on the trail, pretty soon you’ll have a nice neck rein on your horse.

Flickr Photo Credits: Kuckuck; Kuckuck

Posted by Kimberly at January 5, 2006 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Downward Dog is one of the best stretches in yoga! Not only does it increase the flexibility of your spine, shoulders, and legs, but it also provides an overall body stretch and releases tension in your entire body. And you build body strength during Downard Dog.

This is an ideal stretch for the equestrian athlete. Let’s begin—

Downward Dog begins by kneeling with the hands and knees on the floor, hands under the shoulders, fingers spread wide, knees under the hips, knees about seven inches apart, spine straight and relaxed.

On a deep exhale, the hips are pushed toward the ceiling, the body forming an inverted V-shape. Legs are straight. Arms are straight, elbows engaged, shoulders wide and relaxed. The heels move toward the floor. Hands and feet remain hip-width apart. If the hamstrings are very strong or tight, the knees should be bent to allow the spine to lengthen fully.

Pressure is avoided on the wrists by pressing into the fingers and palms, directing the push upward into the hips. The head drops naturally. The heart moves toward the back wall.

The hips move up and back. Relying on the breath while holding the posture, take deep, steady inhales and exhales that create a flow of energy through the body. Concentration on maintaining a slow, rhythmic, sustaining breath is most important.

On an exhale, release onto the hands and knees and rest.

Increasing your flexibility with yoga will enhance your horsemanship