Out of the Dog House and Up on the Trail

City Boy brought me breakfast. He's working nights, so gets home at 7 am. He brought me a package of Rolos and a Diet Pepsi. He loves me...

Yesterday morning I saddled up Sandy and took him out for a trail ride. This was his second journey around the tree farm and up onto one of the trails. It's not the easiest trail as it's pretty steep; same one I started Jet out on. He does well, however, and I've been pleased with how he handles himself. When he sees something that he feels may be threatening he doesn't bolt or spook, but rather stops and stands his ground, then slowly approaches like he's trying to scare it off. So far he's not been able to intimidate the shadows or tree stumps; they've stood their ground as well!


In the afternoon it was Jet's turn to head out. We've been venturing further and further, and yesterday I decided she was steady enough for me to have my camera along. Depending on your connection, this could be a good thing, or a bad thing! Either way, sit back and take a journey up into the foothills that I call home.

Jet wonders if she should target my left knee, right knee, or perhaps both as we go between the knee knockers ahead!

The trail is steep. Steeper than the photo eludes to. I put the camera away as we headed up this section of trail, closed my eyes and hung onto her mane!

Yes, this is the hill I just climbed up over the top of!

Hitchhikers!!!

The view is fantastic! No wonder I had a hitchhiker!

Looking down, I see the valley below where I live.

It was an overcast day, but you can still make out Vancouver Island (Canada) way, way out in the distance.

Hope you enjoyed piggy backing with Jet and I...and that little green worm! I gotta go finish my breakfast now.

Trouble with a capital T

Oh, we've got trouble.

Right here on Carpenter Creek.

With a capital T that rhymes with me,
that stands for Molalla!

Okay, so here's what happened this past weekend. Or before, really, as that's where the trouble began.

I was ready to drive down to the adoption when City Boy informs me that my truck isn't fit to drive that far. Maybe, maybe not, but why risk it? He's been waiting for a part and it's been on backorder. He'd forgotten this was the weekend I was going to be gone, and me...well, I'm the world's worst communicator and hadn't said anything of late about going. So when I thought I'd be pulling out on Thursday, it ended up on Wednesday I was calling the BLM in Oregon in a panic over what I was going to do without horses for my gentling demos at next months fair.

I love my BLM! I'm going to print up a bumper sticker saying that, because the head of the wild horse program there told me he'd haul the horses for me. That's right...from the southeast corner of Oregon to the northwest corner of Washington. Who says those folks aren't caring about the wild horses? I love my BLM! Still, they said, they were very short handed and could use all the help they could get, so was there any chance I could drive down in another vehicle?

City Boy, with what I decided must have been a sigh of resignation, said I could take his car. And so Darling and I were off on Friday morning, making our way to the town with the funny name that's fun to say. Molalla!


Tom, the manager from the corrals, has hand picked a pretty bay gelding that he thinks I may like. A nice moving horse and a little bit curious. He's got silver streaks in his mane and tail which make him a rabicano. Yes, another funny word but much less fun to say than Molalla! I had to agree; Tom has good taste in horses. He pointed out a couple others that he liked and Darling and I pulled out our shopping list and began to make a short list of horses we liked.

Tom handpicked this lovely bay rabicano for me.

The plan was to wait until after everyone had an opportunity to take the horses they liked at Saturday's adoption, then we'd select from our short list of 4 horses. There were several that we liked; this year's 'crop' was good. Lots of big behinds and sloping shoulders, things this quarter horse person is drawn towards.

Red dun gelding has lovely blond streaks in his mane (why is it on the other side?)

One of the geldings on the list was a 2 year old red dun. It's always difficult to judge just how tall the horses are when they're in the pens on uneven ground, but our assumption was that these boys were all 15 hands and up, and the dun looked like he was roughly 15.1 with a back end just a wee bit higher. I anticipate he'll end up over 16 hands when he's fully mature.

There was a short, stocky bay who reminded me of Dude. Another bay had a very sleek body. There was a splashy looking sorrel who had a sabino pattern and looked a little bit drafty. So many horses...so little room! This was not going to be easy.

But that's not all.

No...that's not all.

I'd received a panicked email from Stephanie, Quiet Storm's owner, just a couple days before we left. She was in a difficult spot and they'd decided that they needed to place all three of their horses in new homes. She was really struggling with this decision, and I couldn't help it...I had to help. I told her Quiet Storm could come home with us.

But wait! Now I didn't have my truck and trailer. So I called the BLM again and they said..."No Problemo!" (City Boy does not love my BLM...and he's not very happy with me, either, as I managed to leave out that little detail...)

While there, we met with Jenifer and her husband. They live in southwest WA and we'd met online. She'd wanted a mustang, and in fact had considered Cricket. Jennifer fell for a very nice tank of a horse, a 3 year old with some Appaloosa traits. I knew there was no way I could bring home four horses, so we decided that Jennifer's boy, Quiet Storm and the bay would be who came home with us.

Jennifer has named her boy Simply Magic

Darling was beside herself with joy at the thought of her best friend coming home. I told her we needed to find her a new home, that we couldn't keep her, but I'm not sure she understood just how soon that would be. While there we spoke with a woman who thought Quiet Storm was just the cutest thing. She was looking for a pony for her son. There was a farrier there giving demos; he knew the sister of this woman and vouched for their love and good care of horses. It seemed like a great fit. Darling cried and resisted. The woman told us she was running to town and we could think about it.

It was so difficult. Darling was sobbing. Pleading. Calling her dad (who'd forgotten his phone at home) to beg him to let her bring her baby home. But in the end she managed to pull herself together and we called the woman and told her she could buy Quiet Storm. The woman was thrilled, but Darling went to the car with red swollen eyes and refused to speak to me.

Happier times from last fall

With Quiet Storm having a new home, I decided to go ahead and grab a third horse. Not the plan, surely not the space, but since one was already spoken for I figured I may as well grab the other and see if I could get it adopted out as well. The adoption was over, the paperwork was in hand and the three horses were on their way through the loading chute when my cell phone rang...

"Hi...I hate to do this, but I've decided this was an impulse buy. I really can't take your horse. I really need to be able to have my son ride before I buy...I'm so sorry...please tell your daughter I'm so sorry for putting her through this..."

And there I sat, three wild horses in a trailer and Quiet Storm in hand. And a smiling Darling. And a heart filled with dread because, well, let's face it; I was pushing the envelope with three horses, and City Boy was not going to be happy about all this...and I can't say that I blame him.

Girl Got Spin!

Darling rode Jet last night down around the tree farm while I led Sandy alongside. I'm in need of another snaffle bit so that we can both ride together, or so City Boy and I can go for a ride once Sandy's ready. But for now, Darling rides while I walk, and that's okay because I could use the exercise.

Jet behaved herself for Darling, although at one point she jumped into a trot without being asked, and while Darling broke out with a big grin, mean old mom told her to walk. No point in the big black horse making decisions such as when to take off on her own while carrying someone who wouldn't know how to get out of a jam should something happen.

The rest of the walk was uneventful. We chatted and moseyed and the horses did great out in the evening sun. As we headed around the last bend, Jet picked up the pace but as she was behind us she really couldn't do more than stretch out her long legs into a nice trail horse walk. Darling commented on how she'd picked up speed and wondered why, and I told her the ground was a bit softer along this stretch. Both Sandy and Jet are barefoot, but Jet's slightly more sensitive to the feel of rocks beneath her feet. Even so, they both do wonderfully and aside from a wee bit of chipping on her first ride out, neither horse has had issues.

I glanced back at Darling and noticed her reins were ever so long and asked her how she thought she'd stop her horse should she suddenly spook or jump forward? Immediately the reins were shortened, and a few minutes later Darling was dismounting at the trailer and both horses loaded up and hauled home.

It was last nights ride that was on my mind as I was sitting atop my filly this morning. We'd headed up a new trail, one that had an iron bridge that crossed the creek. I'd dismounted and led Jet across while she listened to the strange echo of her hooves each time they landed on the metal beneath her. She wasn't too sure about what I'd asked her to do and stuck pretty close to my side as though I'd be able to catch her in my arms should she jump into them. She'd have been sadly disappointed to know there's really not much I can do to protect her massive size.

Back in the saddle and after quite a steep climb, my reins were loose and noodle like, dangling down and swinging with each step Jet took. And at the precise moment the memory of Darling's loose reins crossed my mind, Jet's head shot straight up into the air and a deer dashed out across the trail in front of us. Jet wasn't going to stick around to see what that flash had been. In her mind, it was a cougar or bear or some other horrible creature about to devour her whole, and she spun so quick and fast that one could say she spun on a dime and left you some change.

Thankfully she spun to the right, which meant that as my body was flung to the left, my right hand was able to reach out and grab first the horn, then up to the rein and pull her to a stop. For a brief moment I'd wondered if I'd be able to stay on, but thankfully the old reflexes came to the rescue and I was able to convince her to stop and turn back to face her fears. The doe was gone, but the horse wasn't convinced, so I dismounted and led her past the scary spot, mounting up 50' further up the trail.

The rest of the ride was uneventful, but I surely know that this girl needs a few wet saddle blankets up in the hills before she can be trusted not to spin out from under Darling!

For those who read the last post regarding euthanasia and have decided to purchase some soap...I'm posting a new button here as the last one had the wrong price. As in...no shipping included. Smart me, eh?