Cato for President

Happy rocks!

This big round rock is an enterolith surgically removed from the intestine of my friend's horse Hapsburg. Off and on this summer 'Happy' had shown signs of colic, which would quickly resolve with some banamine and hand walking.

Happy is a 17-year-old former race horse (a stakes winning Thoroughbred). After his racing career ended, he was retrained for dressage and my friend competed with him through the first level.

Happy has a distinctive thoroughbred personality. He is playful, sensitive and intelligent. His intelligence has caused all sorts of problems in his human interactions. For many years Happy would go up rather than forward. It was frightening to his owner ride him in his upward moments -- and breathtaking too. Bolting, hopping and skipping were a large part of his repertoire as he sought to defy gravity -- a part of his playfulness.

Over the years, Happy has calmed down to a degree. He has become arthritic (caused by his racing career) and less able to 'cut up' when he felt like it. He had hoof problems -- going barefoot at one point.

By the time he wound up at UC Davis, he had been uncomfortable for several months off and on. His owner was afraid he had a tumor. When an X-ray could not pinpoint the source of the problem, the vets at Davis suggested exploratory surgery.

The word enterolith is derived from the Greek word 'entero' meaning intestinal and 'lith' meaning stone. An unusually high number of these intestinal 'rocks' occur in California and the southwestern regions of the United States.

According to Diana M. Hassel, DVM, equine surgeon at UC Davis, enteroliths are reflective of the mineral composition of soil and feed materials in the region. "Structural and chemical composition analysis indicates that enteroliths are composed primarily of magnesium, ammonium and phosphate. The combination of these three elements into a crystalline form is commonly referred to as struvite." Struvite stones form the urinary tract obstructive stones in cats, dogs and in humans (although 85 percent of kidney stones in humans are made of calcium). Stuvite stone formation is also mainly an indication of infection in cats, dogs and humans, but this is not true of horses.

Happy's stone is a little larger than a coconut, nice and round, a lovely green color (with darker green swirls) and weighs a little more than five pounds. It is cool to the touch and very smooth. Looking at a drawing of the equine intestine gives one pause to think about how it slowly formed (most enteroliths take only two years to grow) and how it must have rattled around in his stomach, trapping gas and giving him pain.

Given that the equine intestinal tract has evolved little over 50 million years, as herbivores (at several points early horses were also fruit eaters) it is a wonder that all sorts inedible things don't wind up in the horse's gut. Fortunately horses are selective in their eating habits and prefer the tasty grasses to rocks.

Because the horse has a small stomach, it must eat regularly to maintain weight, maintain the motility of the 'gut' itself and keep up its energy. Horses on pasture tend to be more continuous in their foraging than ruminants (72 percent of the time in a 24-hour is spent eating -- this is higher in feral or wild horses). Stalled horses fed twice daily spend about 13 to 14 percent of their time foraging and this is where stone formation comes in.

Risk factors for enterolith formation include dietary and genetic factors. The stomach must have an alkaline PH. A nidus (foreign material providing a central core for the enterolith) must form. Conditions for low motility in the colon (caused by confinement) must also be present.

In California the mineral content of the water and alfalfa exceeded the recommended magnesium requirements for horses. In addition to this, alfalfa may cause excessive amounts of free ammonium to be released into the large colon. Bran feed contributes phosphorus to the gut. All these minerals together combine to form stones (struvite).

Genetics also may be a factor in stone formation. Dr. Hassle has also discovered that 8.4 percent of horses with enteroliths had siblings that were also affected. Arabian horses were the breed most commonly diagnosed. Arabians and Arabian crosses comprised 40.3 percent of the horses treated at UC Davis with enteroliths. Other breeds that may have a genetic link to stone formation were Quarter horses, Thoroughbreds, Appaloosas, Morgans and American Miniatures.

The clinical signs of enteroliths are subtle. Thirteen percent of horses with enteroliths had a history of passing stones in their poop. Behavioral signs included: lethargy, depression, cranky behavior, weight loss, occasional loose stool and poor performance or reluctance to jump or go down hills. Horses with large stones (like Happy's) formed in the large colon, commonly have a history of chronic colic. "Horses with the smaller stones that become lodged within the small colon are less likely to have a history of colic." The smaller stones are the deadlier they are. Small stones do not create a big complete blockage of the colon so the signs of severe colic are slow to manifest. Because the signs of distress are slow in coming, the small stones are also more likely to be discovered after they have ruptured the bowel. Once a rupture occurs, the horse either dies or has to be euthanized because of infection.

According the Dr. Hassel, the only successful treatment for horses with colic due to stone formation is surgical removal. The treatment success rate at Davis is 90-95 percent. Discovering the stones before they perforate the bowel is the challenge.

Happy survived his exploratory surgery and has managed to fully cooperate with the daily hand walking -- a minor miracle -- part of his recovery treatment. He seems to know that he just got a second chance on life.

Facts for this post were taken from Equine Enterolithiasis: A Review and Results of a Retrospective Study.

Just order me black, please!

Dressage fashion, as is competing in dressage, is an acquired taste. Riding fashion is steeped in tradition and seemingly unchanging. Materials are unchanging as well -- leather, cotton and wool along with the addition of synthetics made to look like the big three. Those that use the highest quality materials, European manufacturers, create styles that while expensive look good the longest and they last.

Traditional dressage competition clothing is easily recognizable; white breeches, black coat, crisp white shirt with stock tie, white gloves, black boot and black hat. There are very subtle difference between the lower and upper levels of competition in the sport. The average cost of this "uniform" is about $500. Many in the upper levels spend more.

In other words, the competition uniform is boring. It is a difficult sport to sell to television because of this. The lack of individuality is supposed to lend objectivity in judging.  As most competitors know more than anything the uniform of dressage really leads to good deal of sweat and filth. A sport that seems so effortless actually takes so much effort that after each test competitors find themselves soaked in their own sweat and covered in dirt.  I have to wash every stitch of clothing I wear after each show and send my coat to the cleaners.

My first riding uniform consisted of a pair of  Vietnam era Corcoran Black Jump boots.  I had bought them in high school. They were so well made they lasted 30 years. I loved them. What was not to love. They cost me $15.00 used and were comfortable.

I was aware that my fellow equestrians made fun of me for wearing them, but they were rugged and the right price. They did not break down in muddy winters like other shoes that split and cracked after standing in corrosive horse pee. I wore these examples of fine engineering (designed in 1941 for paratroopers) for eight years straight. Then one day they died -- they dissolved into dust.

My first breeches were Pikeurs. They were full seat in tan with tan leather. I thought they were cool. I bought them on sale in Oakland, California at a Western tack and riding apparel store. They were on deep discount -- apparently there weren't popular with the hip hop crowd and probably not favored by the Western riders. I bought them for $80. This was before I received a million horse catalogs. It was only later that I learned these were top of the line and worth more than my horse. I wore these until the leather died one day when I bent over.

The next pair of boots I bought cost a whole $175. I was so shocked by the cost, I wore them for 10 years straight. When they finally wore out, moldering in the corner of the tack room, they were as soft as a pair of slippers. The leather hung on my legs. There were holes where the boot pulls had been. I leveraged them on over my feet with my thumbs. I loved these boots. My trainer begged me to buy a pair I could wear for shows. She was tired of seeing my boots pool around my ankles.

When I bought Ted, my first real dressage horse, my trainer let me know that I needed "decent" tack -- bridle, saddle and boots. She picked a top of the line bridle that would make Ted look lovely on the dressage court.

I looked all over for a used saddle that would fit Ted and me, there was nothing that would fit his petite dimensions -- more narrow than my Arabian horse, yet longer and deeper, like a thoroughbred. I had one choice in the dressage world -- a Custom Saddle. I charged it. (I must confess that it is the best ride I have every had and it really fits Ted.)

After bridle and saddle were secured, I looked around the barn for boots. Everyone was wearing boots made in Holland, so I sold my Arabian and bought a pair. When they arrived, they looked formidable. They were very stiff as advertised. I had to drop my stirrup leathers three holes. The outside of the boot was higher than the inside. This style turned out to be deadly to the skin on my legs. They hurt the backs of my knees so much, I had to buy lifts to break them in. I still have scars. Each time I wore them, I had to soak the back seam with water to get them to relax a little bit. The lifts in the foot bed would get soaked as well and I would slosh around like I was a pirate without a boat. I couldn't feel my horse when I rode. Two years later, I can wear them and still the foot bed won't bend.

Over my years as a rider, I also did a good deal of backpacking, so I also receive a lot of outdoors catalogs. Mostly I find products in the outdoors arena not useful as a rider, but the one thing I've noticed that there is a whole world of innovation going on outdoors apparel. Colors are fresh and the designs are new and exciting.

I recently bought a pair of Keen sandals and it got me thinking about style, color and functional design. I was surprised to find the sandals were durable, came in interesting styles and colors, and they didn't hurt. Wouldn't it be great to buy a Keen equestrian boot that was a terrific color, cool in summer, the cost was reasonable and they didn't destroy your legs?

When I look over the catalogs for riding apparel, I don't see much innovation. The colors are still the same, white, black and tan. The cuts are still the same, despite the fact that there are more aging riders than ever whose bodies are slowly getting squat and square. The only manufacturers that produce products that will last longer than a year are European.

Innovation in riding apparel amounts to using synthetics in breeches, gloves, shirts and underwear. New design elements are low-rise breeches, piping and v-back seams, pink shirts, contrasting colored full-seat breeches or plaids. Please. Any real designer would know that the contrasting colored full-seat and plaid breeches are just going to make the rider look fat. As for the rest, I don't bother to open the catalog any more. I just call and order black.

 

A duck and a truck

Winter in Northern California isn't really hard. I spent most of my life living in a state where the sun went down in November and didn't return until May. I wore my long underwear (I had dozens of pairs.) the whole time because I was so skinny it was impossible to stay warm.

No, winter in Northern California isn't bad. The temperatures stay at around 50 degrees and it rains for long periods. It is just rain. It started raining on Thursday and it is Sunday. It hasn't stopped yet. This wouldn't be a problem for anyone who sits at home and reads books and watches TV, but if you want to ride your horse it is a drag.

Our normally commodious riding center goes from seven arenas to two covered arenas when it rains. That is several hundred people sharing the same space. The combination of hunter/jumper and dressage riders is bad enough, but when you add in ponies and children, lessons, and sales barn horses that are barely trained, people get a little testy -- or at least I do.

After Teddy received a clean bill of health from UC Davis, he was started back to work. Because of his long lay off, the cold and the fact that there were a huge number of people in the arena, even my trainer could not ride Ted. He seemed to be more inclined to go up and bolt than anything else, so I made the decision to send him up north to be rehabbed. Patriot Farms outside of Loomis has an automatic walker that can take a horse from walking to trotting in easy steps. This can be done without anyone climbing on the horse's back.

At Patriot Farms, Teddy had a huge luxury stall. He was fed three times a day and was exercised twice a day. At the end of the month he was trotting 25 minutes in an hour work out. Psychologically he was much better off, so I made the decision to bring him home to continue conditioning with a rider on his back at our facility.

Teddy came home with a new attitude. Oh, he was still the same old Ted, didn't offer to go forward, but when pressed he walked out well enough. He got a new stall in an old wooden barn, so if he kicked he wouldn't contact metal. The first time I climbed on his back, it felt good. He seemed happy. The weather was dry and warm and I took him out to the round pen and walked and trotted him easily. I could not wipe the grin from my face. It had been since September since I'd been able to ride him. What a pleasure.

That was last weekend. I didn't think much about the weather when it started raining. I prefer drought. I live in an agricultural community, so rain is key, but I don't care. Rain means mud to me. It means crowded riding conditions. Rain means moldy tack, a car covered with rice hulls and more mud. It means my clothes are not just sweat soaked, they are wet period. Rain means stormy horse personalities.

So when I tacked him up yesterday morning, I expected a quiet and relaxed horse. He was composed in the tack up. Ready for a treat, if I was handing them out. My friend Christy was tacking her horse Sante up for a similar workout. It was pouring rain and we were going to walk in the arena early to miss all the Saturday hubbub. Sante had been off for three months. He had spent the morning work out session the day before rearing. It was important to get an early start to prevent problems.

The arena was quiet, empty. I mounted and began the endless walk -- one hour of walking is a long time. The covered arena next door was filled with lunging horses and jumpers. Ted was calm, interested, but not too interested.

Christy entered with Sante and began to hand walk him around the arena. He seem 'OK', so she climbed aboard and walked him in a circle. This is when I noticed the truck hauling hay coming down the drive. Following it was a huge forklift. Christy saw it too and came to a stop. I continued walking Ted sure that this would not be a problem.

The truck whizzed past both arenas to stop in front of the hay barn. Noisy unloading commenced. Sante seemed OK. Ted seemed OK. Christy and I were giddy. There would be no death defying antics from our horses. Rain was nothing. An arena full of noisy jumpers and little children on ponies next door did not seem to matter. We were going to both make it through the hour with out incident. In fact, Ted and I were walking so swiftly, we were working up a sweat.

That's when the duck began to walk across the pavement towards us. Simultaneously, the forklift reached the back of the hay truck. The motor grinding, it was lifting the hay off the end and lowering it with swiftness. Then, the piece de resistance appeared from the barn opposite. A loud-colored horse with a green blanket wrapped around the saddle came walking towards us. Suddenly, Ted and I were spinning out of control. I couldn't hold on. I hit the ground and waited for Ted to step on me. I yelled at the little girl with the colored horse to hold still.  She stopped.

Ted stood a few feet away snorting. He waited for me to have a fit. I didn't have one. Sante hopped around at the other end of the arena. I waited to see what would transpire. Sante stopped.

Deciding it was a one-time occurrence, I climbed back into the saddle. I was in no pain? There was no pain, I must have bounced.

Ted began to snort again. We stopped. Sante hopped. This went on for 2-3 minutes and then Christy decided she had had enough. She didn't want to hit the ground. I walked Ted around the arena without incident for another 20 minutes. The duck, loud-colored horse and the hay truck had all left the area by the time I was done.

Was it the curse of the loud-colored horse?

After both horses were back in their stalls, Christy and I were both outside the barn rehashing the incident, trying to figure out what set it off. My cell phone rang. I took the call. When I told my nonriding friend on the other end of the call what had happened, I told her it was just a matter of a duck and a truck. Christy, who was loading her car at the time, doubled over in laugher. That's what it was, a matter of a duck and a truck. No other words could explain it.

Photo illustrations are of Sante at a show and the automated walker at Patriot Farms.

No damages

Teddy traveled to UC Davis with a friend of mine the Sunday after Thanksgiving. On Monday morning he was taken for the CT scan. He came through with flying colors. There was "minimal evidence of degenerative changes to the intersesamoidean ligament, or the ....sesamoid bones of the right front." Surgery was not done. He did show some evidence of remodeling to the sesamoid bone possible associated with previous fracture at the apex, but this is not certain. He was returned to his stall after the procedure and the vet called me to tell me that generally all they saw were arthritic changes throughout the fetlock, something that is not unheard of in an athletic horse aged 12. The vet asked me if I wanted to treat him with Interleukin-1 receptor protein antagonist (IRAP).

Blood is drawn from the horse and proteins are separated out and then re-administered at the site of concern. The proteins block inflammation. It should slow arthritic changes and promote healing.  (In a previous life, I worked with interferons binding to interleukin-2, so I was familiar with the process.) My vet told me had never worked with the therapy. Since he is a racing vet and would see the latest in leg treatments as a matter of course, I had a fairly good idea that the insurance would not cover the treatment. At $1,200 per treatment with the recommendation being two treatments, I cannot blame them. IRAP is not permanent, and like steroids, must be done once the positive effect is over. Apparently there are no side effects as the proteins are the horses own, albeit isolated and reintroduced to the area that needs to heal.

My home vet will probably do another shock wave therapy and then we begin the tedious process of bringing him back with a month of daily walking under saddle. Then slowly building up to trot for 10 minutes, eventually when he is trotting for 20 with no unsoundness then we will add the canter.

Teddy is back home. While he has managed to maintain his calm demeanor, occasionally he yanks me around, screams and prepares to take off. I probably will not help with his rehab unless he quiets down a bit.

Looks like elephant ears

It was a morning just like any other -- September 9 and very warm. Teddy and I walked down the long road quietly for our jump lesson. There was nothing unusual about the journey. No hint that problems lay in the future, the immediate future.

Search on such phrases as "coping with a loved one's injury" or "dance partner injuries"  on Google.com and one comes up with sites about mental illness, death and dying or Mario Lopez and Dancing With the Stars.

Search on the phrase "coping with sport horse injuries" and up pop articles about acute injury, this time in horses; but there are no articles about what to do if your horse suddenly goes from full speed ahead to full stop in one week. How to mentally and physically cope with an equine partner who suddenly goes lame is unanswered. There apparently are no scholarly articles on such subjects. It is a subject ripe for exploration because as we all know this can cause serious mental illness in the rider at best, a weight gain of at least 10 pounds at the worst and can cause impoverishment for years if the source of the problem can not be found.

So when Teddy and I entered the jumping arena, we entered the realm of unknown injury and for the next month we searched the globe for a reason he was lame at the trot. Initially, there was no warmth, no swelling, nothing. Everyone had an opinion. "Suspensory strain," said one. "He must have kicked something," said another.

A week later the leg swelled up and we "knew" it was an infection. He was given antibiotics. Yet the lameness continued. The ultrasound showed nothing. The X-rays were inconclusive. Finally a knot developed at Ted's ankle. The vet decided it must be the sesamoid bone. A diagnosis developed -- sesamoiditis.

Asking how a horse has injured himself is a dicey question. How does a horse do anything? The only reason horses seem to have survived the prehistoric period was because "man" adopted them, first to eat and then to ride. This may be the only way they survived as they don't do well on their own.

Ted plays. He kicks and rears and generally has a good time. The only problem with this is that he does it in a pipe paddock and the metal is hard on his legs. The young stallion next to him plays too. Let's say they got happy together in a celebration of exuberant emotion. That's how the vet thinks Ted injured himself. The acute part of the injury came when the tiny ligament that runs between the sesamoid bones (looks like elephant ears) got caught over a roughen edge of the bone itself.

"This is a race horse injury," my vet said. "Not a dressage horse injury. It is an anomaly and not caused by the work he is doing."

"Great," I thought to myself. "Was he going 40 mph in his stall and suddenly hit a wall?" It seems this might just be the case.

So Ted was moved to a quiet stall in an out of the way barn to serve his confinement. He received shock wave therapy. The vet reexamined the X-ray and decided that there might be a fracture and he was taken to UC Davis Large Animal Clinic for a further exam, which proved to be inconclusive. He was scheduled for a CT scan. For this procedure, Teddy would receive general anesthesia and then he would be laid down. If the university vets saw inflammation and roughened edges of the bone, then they would perform arthroscopic surgery to "clean" the inflammation out and "smooth" the edges.

The whole idea of laying Teddy down, took my breath away -- made my eyes tear. Waking up from general anesthesia is the most dangerous part of laying the horse down. When Kentucky Derby Winner Barbaro was injured at Pimlico, his recovery was done in water to prevent him from reinjuring or killing himself. UC Davis doesn't have this type of elaborate recovery center, instead waking up from general anesthesia takes place in a controlled environment in a padded room.  My vet says that while the statistics for injury during the waking up period are low, there is still a risk.

There wasn't much else to do, but begin riding again. My trainer doesn't have lesson horses. All of her clients pay for training, so I am relegated to exercising the geriatrics. Mainly, I ride Willis, a 26-year-old Friesian horse, whose once black face is graying out. He likes pretzels and wheat thins. On the nights he doesn't feel energetic, we sit on the sofa together and drink beer together and recall better days when we were young. Willis stumbles, fakes profound tiredness and generally likes it when I hit the vending machine in the tack up, so we can both share something fantastically salty and fattening together. I feel privileged to work with him.

Occasionally I ride Bobbie; he is an Andalusian horse who is pure white. When he trots it's just like riding a jack hammer that goes no where. Getting him relaxed is a feat and has taught me to simple just sit still. Cantering is like riding the drug store plastic pony; it looks cute in the mirror.

Then there is Calloway; an unraced thoroughbred jumping horse. Calloway doesn't bend. He doesn't round up and come through like a dressage horse. What he does do is go -- at least for me. I pressed his forward button and he likes it, so do I. After working on bending in the arena, we go out into the fields and go.

Calloway's other special talent is that he wiggles and is crooked at all times. We ride squares and 20 meter circles just to get some geometry into his system. Calloway isn't an excellent jumper either. His modus operandi is to bolt forward after completing a jump and to trip while doing it. I have worked and worked to slow him down so that we don't flop face first into the sand.

All of these horses have made me realize how wonderful Teddy truly is. He is light, on the bit, easily rounds up, is easy to sit and sometimes even forward. Hanging out with Ted during his recovery, which amounts stall confinement except for 10 minutes walking a day, reminds me that his temperament is saintly (in some respects). Right now he is quiet, relaxed  and affectionate as we ramble over the farm eating weeds.

The vet came out yesterday and we trotted him out to look at his level of soundness. He was light, forward and sound. Both the vet and I were pleased. Tomorrow he travels to UC Davis for his scan. I hope to receive a call that tells me he is healing well and will soon be back to work.

Photos by Lake Web Design. Teddy is insured or very little of the care he has received would have been possible.

The rhumba

Learning to ride can be a humiliating experience if you come to it cold at age 40. Having never done anything remotely athletic in my life, is seemed doubly so. Born before Title IX went into effect, the only athletic endeavors available at school were girl's basketball. Never was there a more boring and taxing sport. I studiously avoided basketball altogether getting my physician to sign a note saying I had developed Osgood-Schlatter Disease and could not strain my knees.

Throughout my life, I have learned and mastered most things by force of will and persistence. Faced with learning to ride a horse and to achieve the refinement that dressage demands has served as an challenge to me -- the firmly potato'd individual. I am excellent at reading books. I can write and surf the Internet for hours. I can sit on my butt and make it a fine art. But ask me to move; coordinate all four limbs and guide a horse in movement as well, is a foreign country. I have no map for it. It has to be done by braille (touch and feel).

On this journey into the great unknown, I have had several horses. Most have been willing to go forward lightly with almost no need for spur or whip. They were both Arabians; both intelligent; neither were well suited for dressage. When I finally bought a horse that cost just a bit too much, but came with all the movement I could handle, I was in for a surprise. Seems I hadn't spent enough for the hind end motor. It would cost another $15,000 for that, and at that point, I was tapped out.

How much of horse behavior is taught and how much is genetic? Teddy had never been asked to carry his own weight with a rider and when we did, it created an uncomfortable situation. He came apart. He blustered about. He kicked out. He slowed. He reared and bucked. I wondered if this relationship would be one of never ending turmoil. I wondered if I should sell.

When I got Ted, my trainer said he would teach me how to ride. She said I would learn timing and tact. I would learn how to get him forward without a struggle; that one day I would simply have him in front of my leg and on the aids. I believed.

For two years, Teddy has been schooled twice a week by my trainer and her assistants who have better timing and feel than I have. They have asked him to move forward and have spanked his bottom if he hasn't responded. Forward and light has been his mantra.

Forward and light has been mine as well.

Six days a week Ted is ridden. Three of those days, he and I practice. A fourth day he and I jump. My best times with him are on Friday nights when no one is in the arena and there are no distractions. Slowly I have learned to let go with my knees, to stretch my legs down, to hold myself in the saddle with my tummy muscles, to balance and to sit the trot. Almost two years into this partnership, things have changed.

Our scores for our most recent show are improved. One score rising a full 5 percentage points. There are major differences in our warm-up. In this last show, Ted was forward, willing and over his back. I was more relaxed. Ted felt like he was going to follow my lead, rather than determine where he wanted to go.He seemed to want to please me.

The test itself was quiet. My hands were still and together. There was no kicking. I didn't use the whip. There were no exasperated grunts of frustration. Ted didn't respond to the scary trees in the corner. He was in front of my leg for a full five minutes while we rhumb'd through the test.

He was pleased with himself afterwards and took his time working his way out of the arena. He seemed to be saying, "See, you see, surprised you didn't I?"

A happy occasion

It is a very happy occasion when one of your friends is given a great honor.  When three friends are honored, it is an extraordinary event. Lyra, rider/trainer Christine Rivin-Henke, and owner Stacy (Hart) McCarthy are headed to Gladstone and the USEF Festival of Champions to compete in the Intermediaire 1 championship.  Chris's and Lyra's final score in competition was 66.961. Here are the most current rankings I could find. I've searched the Internet a little to try to give you information about the competitors.

• Jan Ebeling
• Michelle Gibson
• Melissa Jackson and Christopher Hickey
• Marie Meyers
• Michael Shondel
• Karen Pavicic
• Charlotte Bredahl Baker
• Joe Sandven

A very distinguished group. I look forward to hearing about the show and the competitors. I wish all three well, and hope they prove themselves as something special from Northern California.

Additional info on the rider line up from HorsesDaily.

Gladstone scores posted June 6 on Eurodressage.

USEF press release dated June 15 on day one of the competition.

USEF vet inspection June 14.

Jumping with Ted

Revelations about riding come and go. You reach a plateau in your training and frustration -- months of frustration -- can set in. Practicing the same movement over and over makes one sour and crabby. It was during just such a period that Ted and I discovered jumping.

The first time we tried it, it was an excuse to find someone, anyone, that could help me get Ted into the canter. Ted cantered for everyone else, but me. I asked a hunter jumper trainer if she would instruct me. This instructor is an affable woman who is liable to laugh rather than to yell while teaching. I felt safe making mistakes. She had the patience to see that I learned to do everything the right way.

The first time I took a lesson with her, she realized I did not really know the basic cues for trot and canter. She addressed this with me immediately. It was a revelation. Trotting and cantering became a part of our routine. Before that it was hit and miss. I would attempt a trot, but frequently the exercise turned into kicking, bucking and rearing.

(At first, I thought this reaction on Ted's part was irritation with my inept riding, but now I think he had managed to get rid of his amateur riders with this behavior. But not me. I stuck to it and inch by inch, I have been able to get him forward without a fuss.)

After I learned to trot and canter, we started trotting poles. Ted could pick his legs up and do the exercise, but had to look at each pole while he did it. Eventually we graduated to cantering poles. Ted relaxed and began to work through these automatically.

I was given an old stirrup leather to grab onto for balance and began to learn the half-seat. Initially when I grabbed the stirrup leather around Ted's neck, I would lose the reins entirely. There I would be, standing in the stirrups with no reins. Despite what it sounds like, I was thrilled. I was learning to balance on my horse, something I had not really achieved in dressage.

The first time Ted and I took a jump, my heart leaped out of my chest. I was afraid and just a bit over stimulated -- excited. I started laughing and couldn't stop. Ted smiled. It was fun.

Gradually we began to work over a series of jumps, and Ted, ever precise, Ted began to gage where he should be with each jump. He moved forward on his own without being asked. Suddenly I had a forward horse. He was just as excited as I was about jumping.

Ted has no reservations about the work at all. When we head to the jumping arena he is willing, eager. To get to the arena we must walk down a long scary gravel road with palm trees. At first the dry rattle of the trees was a problem, he would bolt and buck his way back to the barn. Now he, more often than not, keeps it together until we get to the arena.

Last week, Ted misjudged a jump and blew through it, knocking it over. He was so aggravated, he bucked his way over the second. It scared me. My instructor asked me to take him over the same jump again. He did not misjudge it the second time. He went over with ease and just a bit of extra height. It was an act of faith that I agreed to take Ted over a second time. He rose to the occasion. This small exercise changed the dynamic in our relationship. He trusts me more. I feel safer on his back.

I watched my instructor take Ted over a series of jumps he hadn't gone over before. She asked him to turn quickly, to switch leads and to trust her judgement. He refused one jump, a slotted barrier that was set at an angle. She took him over again. He bent way over to look at it while he was going over and then kicked out. Was it going to eat him? The next time she sent him over it, he didn't even look. The exercise was eye opening. I could see the level of trust he had in her. He went over all the jumps at speed and he looked happy doing it. What was even more pleasing was he looked like an natural. He didn't look like a dressage horse out for a bit of a change of scene. He looked like a jumper.

What have we learned? Ted has a forward button. He has a naturally exuberant nature -- it has a lot to do with the work. I have learned to balance in the half-seat. I have learned to trust a horse I was once sure was out to get me off his back. I have learned to be quiet and to put my hands together and hold them still for straightness.

We have both learned the joy of doing something together that is mutually satisfying. Our attitude has changed. Ted is trying more and more to please me and I him. In the dressage arena, I have more horse than I have ever had before. In the dressage arena, I am a less brittle rider. My hands are quieter, my seat better and my temper less of a monument.

Thank you to Christy for the photos!

Voice lesson

"It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points (out) how the strong....stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the {woman) who is actually in the arena; ....who knows...great enthusiasm(s);.... who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if (she) fails, at least fails while daring (to try)......" Teddy Roosevelt

The second dressage show of the season is the make or break show. It's when one thinks seriously about one's talent (or lack there of) and one's pocket book.

Intending to do great things in January suddenly meets the actualities of May.

May is the cruel month that can, if you are wise, bring a full stop to your winter dreams.

May is also the month that brings job cutbacks, losing one's house, ongoing menopausal body pain and oppressive heat. What to do with my "very cute hose with a lot of ability...that must be motivated to move forward?" This must be balanced with the twists of fate (and the heart).

Dressage doesn't allow for an amateur's life. It is a pass time for the professional. The rider who rides umpteen horses a day, every day. Who has the time to refine everything  -- from how you put your shoe polish on your boots; to the absolute balance of your body while a top a horse. The individual who has found a way to get paid to practice, practice, practice the movements for each test.

But I can't complain, I can be extremely happy with a ribbon and a decent score. Teddy and I were ready for this show. A show on home territory where your friends are your competitors. How bad can any loss be when you are surrounded by people you love and respect?

Again, Teddy and I are trying to stay forward at Training Level 3. This test is a challenge because the figures are so difficult. How can a double circle at "X" (the center of an oblong arena) be so difficult? Try it with a horse that seems to sink into the sand. His toes dragging deeper and deeper, all the while he is claiming he is so tired he needs Geritol to get out of bed.

At the same time, this is the horse who is too sensitive to trot past a nasty tree in one corner of the arena because it sports teradactyls ready to pounce. It's a stop-go situation and you don't want to think too much about either. You don't want to use your whip in an outrageous manner and you really can't hop off and give him the pick-me-up he says he so badly needs.

What to do? Put your hands together, smile and sub-vocalize that you will slit his throat if he doesn't behave, now! It's not legal. Not advised to vocalize out loud where the judge can hear. But I am a noisy rider that comments on every mistake made while riding. I yell, I scream, I plead, I beg -- the only way to keep me quiet is to tape my mouth shut!

Teddy and I slowly make our way through the test, all the while I am whispering threats in his ears. "If you do not canter now, you will never get another carrot in your life." He canters, but delays it to the last moment, the moment well past the letter "A." On and on, I whisper sweet nothings under my breath. We finish the test with a perfectly square halt. I was flushed with pride. There were no absolute zeros on this test. I suddenly felt effective. I had cantered and no one could stop me!

On to Training Level 4, one of the most boring tests in existence. I have done this test 12 billion times. I am tired of it and yet, I have not mastered it. We begin well. We halt square at "X." We then nail our shallow serpentine from "M" to "X" to "F." And although the canter depart is against my hand, we again get the canter. "Hurray," I whisper to Teddy. "You are actually paying attention." Then there is a string of 7s -- quality of canter, balance and smoothness during transition, quality of trot, quality of transition and walk, straightness, quality of walk, transitions to walk. A dream come true and then it all falls apart. Teddy has gone to sleep, it's been too quiet from my quarter. We are approaching the shallow serpentine from the opposite direction (who thinks these things up? A better movement, at least for Ted, would be flop down on the sofa at F and take a rest for 45 minutes!). And then the dreaded canter depart. We are moving so slowly there will be no canter depart. My heart chills when I hear myself yell, out loud, right in front of the judge --  "Go!" -- I did not swear. I could have, but I didn't.

Ted kept his cool, flicked his tail and gave me that, "I told you so" look. He was right. My mistake cost us two points.

Photo by Lake Web Design.

Sweet and beautiful

There is nothing like a wonderful baby to perk up a moldering not quite rainy day. This little one is several weeks old -- his present name is "Hap." His mother, S'Brina, is by Ramirado by Ramiro and her mother dam sire is by Sacramento Son by the famous sire Sacramento Song.

Little Hap's sire, Hunter, is a horse I know well as I cleaned his stall for several months and have watched him ridden in both jumping and dressage. He is an intelligent, pleasant horse with very long legs. Hunter is by the thoroughbred Heraldik out of a Holsteiner mare by Alcatraz (Lord/Convent).  According to his owner and rider, Wendy Webster, "even though Hunter's mother is a registered and branded Holsteiner" she had a lot of out crossed blood, "so Hunter really doesn't have much 'true German Holsteiner' in him. "Hunter's grand sir Alcatraz goes two generations back to Alme (Selle Francais).  Lord, his grear-grand sire, was sired by the thoroughbred horse Ladykiller out of a mare by the thoroughbred Cottage Son so was only one-quarter Holsteiner himself.  Then the great-great-grand sire is Convent who is by Cor de la Bryere, another Selle Francais stallion.  The good news is ..... they all work together perfectly to create a modern, talented, tractable, easy-to-ride horse!"

Heraldik (by the 2005 World Breeding Federation Statistics) was the fifth leading sire of eventing horses worldwide.  He was approved to breed in every warmblood registry in Germany for the years 1994 - 2005 until he died.

This Spring Wendy was given the President's Choice Award for Breeding by the American Holsteiner Horse Association.

I went over to Wendy's because I wanted to see the new foals and imports she had collected over the past year. She warned me that she would be busy after 2 pm "collecting" Hunter. When I arrived, I wandered around alone snapping pictures for a while not wanting to interrupt the process. I emailed her again this morning and she was on her way outside to do it over again. Breeding season can be somewhat frenetic when you have a popular stallion.

Both sire and dam are black.