Horse and Man

I’m continuing to only post happy events this week.  So, I thought I would tell you a personal happy ending story –  which was sure to be a tragedy –  about my dog, Dex.

But first …

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DEXTER, THE ESCAPE ARTIST

I have an Australian Kelpie.  His name is Dexter because when I was in Australia, I worked with a guy named Dexter.  Every time the other crew members would call his name, it sounded like “Deec-Sta”.  I loved that!  And, when they called him his nickname, Dex, is sounded like, “De-eeks”.  Since I had such a great time in Australia, when I found myself adopting an Australian Kelpie from the shelter, the name just had to be Dexter.

The Australian Kelpie, Dex, photographed this morning

Having had Dex for 11 years now, I can honestly say that he is a true Australian Kelpie.  Not only does he look just like a Kelpie (dingoish), but he has the Australian outpost jailbird scalawag darling mentality to boot.  He is Crocodile Dundee in fur.  There is no wall too high, mountain too far or ocean too deep for this dog to attempt an outing.  Well, the water part is not quite true.  He does hate water.  But, you get my drift…  This dog can climb a 6′ chain link fence.  He can be gone for days and come back as if nothing is out of the ordinary with that, “What are you looking at?” face when he finally does reappear.

Come to think of it, I should create a “Dexter’s Island” with a very deep moat surrounding it.  That would probably be the only thing to keep him in.  However, my luck, he’d be like the Professor and build a raft from the surrounding foliage.  Dexter has an IQ larger than most humans and he uses it.  The best part is, you don’t know what he is masterminding until it is too late.  For example. Dex will sit for many hours on top of his favorite pillow by the dog waterer.  He owns the water and lords over all animal-kind from his perch on the porch.

Le de dah.  Hours and days pass where Dex just sits there, lapping water, humming and snapping at flies.  Then one day out of the blue, he’s gone.  There’s a note and an acetylene torch path cut through the iron gate.  “Be back lay-ta (say that with an Aussie accent)”.  He’s gone.

Now, I know this about Dex.  We’ve tried everything from duct tape to the Invisible Fence.  The only way to always keep him in is to put him in a large kennel with a roof.  The last time I did that, he went on a hunger strike and did not give it up.  He wouldn’t eat or drink.  The most successful containment device now is a cable between two trees.  He likes that.  So, at the moment, until he becomes so arthritic that he cannot do his fantastical feats, Dexter has told me that he prefers to be on his cable run near the water trough on his favorite pillow unless he barks once.  If he barks once, he wants to be let inside to sit on his favorite pillow by the window.  Oh, and he demands to be with me when I am feeding the horses.  For some reason, this time is exempt from any escape attempts but I don’t know why…  During these two periods in the day, Dexter stays put.  He wanders around the property but always ends up at the barn for his meal.  Whatever.  So be it.  He wins.  As long as he stays around here, he can have it his way.

HIS MULTIPLE COLLARS

So, Dexter wears a black collar with a strong ring for his cable line.  Then, he wears a bright orange collar with his phone number stitched on.  I guess it isn’t really his phone number, but if you call that number, he gets a ride.

IN HIS MIND, HE IS NEVER LOST…

I find this idea hysterical.  I mean, what does the dog think?  He wanders off the property and when he’s tired, he walks up to a human or a glass door of some type and waits for the human or the humans behind the glass door to see his orange collar and make the call.  Then, Dex just sits there with the bowl of fresh water the humans always give him and he waits.  He waits for me to show up.  What does he think is happening?

Does he think that I have ESP and just know where he is when he is ready to be picked up?  Does he think all humans know each other?    As far as he is concerned, he is never lost because I always show up.  No matter where he has gone and no matter what time of day or night, if he walks up to a human, a few hours later, Mom shows up.  Simple.  Easy.  Wow.

THAT FATEFUL DAY

But one Thanksgiving Day, amid all the confusion, Dex was let out.  All my High Security Defcon 11, airlock , double door hydraulic and monitoring systems had failed.  He was out without supervision… and so he left.  Of course.

But, this time he didn’t have his phone number.  Uh Oh.  I took off his bright orange embroidered collar to wash it for his holiday appearance.  So, Dex left the house with only his black collar.  He was, essentially, naked.  And, no matter how many humans he greeted, none of them would help him.  On this day, all of the systems had failed.

I WAS PANICKED

I was so upset I couldn’t think.  I adore Dex even though he frustrates me to no end…  I was so upset that he had been let out during a time other than our agreed upon exempt times.  I was upset at the bad luck I had by removing his collar just that morning to wash it.  Oy.  I was devastated that I would never see my boy again.  I was crushed thinking that Dex would go up to some human and expect me to show up soon — to no avail.  I was terrified someone would just keep him…

AFTER ONE NIGHT

After one night of no sleep, I gave up on my bed and went into the office to create a flyer.  I made a zillion of these things and I was ready with my staple gun to fire them into every neighboring post.  By sunrise, I had them in a stack.  First, I waited to call and notify all the local shelters.  After that, I left to canvas the neighborhood.

THE FIRST POLE

The first pole I hit was the closest one which is by the newspaper boxes.  Everyone puts notes there.  I had mine in a plastic sleeve so it wouldn’t get damaged too easily.  Holding my breath and saying a prayer, I wielded my staple gun into action and BLAMMO!  It was up.

There.  I had done something proactive.

As I started to turn around, I heard a car approach.  It stopped abruptly behind me.  The driver got out with a stack of flyers.  He said he was driving to work but had wanted to put his flyer up early.  “I found this dog…”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?  YOU FOUND A DOG?  WHAT KIND OF DOG?”, I blurted frantically.

“I don’t know. He’s black and white and looks like a mutt.”

“DOES HE LOOK LIKE THIS,”  I said, holding up my flyer…

In one move, he held up his flyer…  It did look like him.  Exactly.

And, sitting in the back of Flyerman’s car was my dog, looking at me through the side window, wagging his tail.  Dex looked at the guy who had been his chauffeur and shot him a grin as if to say, “See, I told you she would show up; she always does…”

And, Dex was right.  I do always show up…  “No worries, mate, no worries.”

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Is your horse showing signs of being transbred?  Or, perhaps, even more specifically, transspecied?

What do I mean?

Well, do you have a horse that looks like a certain breed and has papers to prove that breeding, but acts like another breed?  Or, acts like another species altogether?  And, it isn’t as if they are trying to act like another breed, they truly, in their hearts, think they are something else.

I call that Transbred.  And, in the case of a few of my horses, they are Transpecied.  They may look like a horse, but they think they are another animal altogether…

TRANSBRED

Finn the Wild Mustang TWH

Meet Finn.  He is my 10 year old Tennessee Walking Horse gelding.  However, he does not see himself as a TWH at all.  Oh sure, he’ll gait when he’s excited and he does a pretty good job of it.  But, he doesn’t identify with gaiting.  Nope.  His identity is with Jeremiah Johnson’s horse or Daniel Boone’s horse.  He would like to be on the trail that no other horse has traversed before.  He is a Free Range Wild Mustang from Tennessee.

Finn sees no use in gaiting on a flat road just for the sake of a nice ride together.  Wha?  “You want me to just gait down this road, again?  Why?  This makes no sense to me.”  No joke.  He would rather zig zag, moonwalk or shift one foot outside the trail then go where he has gone before.  No, this horse is not your average cotton field, flatlands, “I’ll gait just to have a smooth ride with my owner”  Tennessee Walking Horse.  Noooooh.  Finn is a Free Range Wild Mustang!  Give me uncharted territory or give me Death.  He is a heck of a great trail horse, for sure!

ICELANDIC SHETLAND PONY

Have you ever met an Icelandic Shetland?

VB, the prebred Icelandic Shetland

Me neither.  Until I birthed one here on the ranch. Her name is Violet Beauregard.  It fits.

I guess I should be clear.  VB is a full blooded Icelandic Horse.   I have her mother; she is a papered Icelandic mare.  And, although I didn’t watch her conception, I am pretty sure the sire was a well-known Icelandic stud imported from Iceland.  So I know that my little filly is actually an Icelandic Horse.

However, she thinks she is a Shetland.  This filly will turn over every bucket, unlock any door, rip open any feed bag, walk through any doorway, nibble anything, shake anything, shred anything, snake her neck and bang the gates like the best of the Shetlands (and I know because I have two Shetlands here).  VB will seek and destroy any and all things within her reach.  All the while, she will look as cute as a button and as angelic as possible.

And, she is angelic, sort-of.  She doesn’t mean to be destructive.  Its just that all things interest her for a moment until they have bored her and are no fun anymore.  Then she is “done” with that item and tosses it.  I would think she has ADD except she is always thinking about what she can destroy touch next so she is actually quite single minded.  Once someone described her as having a “high play drive”.  I almost spit up my Starbucks.  Y’think?  Understatement to me.  This girl is driven to… to… um, she’s just driven.  Period.

And, she hates to be ridden.  This is also a Shetland trait.  If you have ever ridden a Shetland, you know that their whole goal is to stop being ridden.  This is why all little girls should start with a Shetland.  If you can ride a Shetland, you can ride anything.  As a matter of fact, I put my 11 year old daughter on Violet Beauregard last week.  I kinda think they are a lot alike.  Anyway, they were both in tears by the end of it.  I’m not sure who got the best piece of the other.  I think it was a draw.  I actually heard the bell sound when they entered the arena…  ;)

Anyway, VB is Transbred.  She thinks she’s a Shetland and as many times as I’ve tried to tell her that she is an Icy, she just doesn’t “feel” it.  Sigh.

TRANSSPECIED

Huh?  What do I mean by this?  Well, I have a few here that are not sure they are horses.  They identify more with other creatures.

THE LOCH NESS MORGAN MONSTER

Wrigley thinks he is Nessie.  Do you know what I mean?

Loch Ness Wrigley

Nessie is the sea creature from the Loch Ness.  You’ve seen the photos right?  Dinosaur body which is huge but mostly submerged and then this loooong neck protruding from the dark sea.

Yup.  That’s Wrigley.  If I had a photoshop program on my blog I would have cropped in a wave just below his body here.  You can draw it in your mind…  Can you see the similarity?

Wrig is an anomaly.  He is a Morgan.  I know this because I have his Momma and I know his Sire and arranged for the quickie matrimonial insemination.  Yet, he is not like any Morgan I’ve ever seen.  He is a freak of nature, in a good way, but still very otherworldly.  He is very tall.  He is the tallest horse here and he is only 2 and a MORGAN.  As you know, Morgans are not known for their size, ahem.  He is very floaty and stealth.  And, his neck is alien.  Not only is is very long and telescopic, but he can rotate it and move in ways unnatural for a horse.

So, I think he has seen the faded, grey photos of Nessie and has decided to make the myth a reality.  He is a mythical equine sea creature of epic proportions.  He is Loch Ness Wrigley.

LURCH POSSESSION.

Remember Lurch from the Addams Family TV series?

Lurch

Well, he has been reincarnated into my mustang mare, Remi.  That’s the truth.

Every time you walk into her field she comes over, like a good butler.  She stands in front of you and asks what you want.  And, as soon as you tell her, she rolls her eyes backwards and lets out a disgruntled retort.  You remember how Lurch did the exact same thing, right?

I mean, she has to feel a bit indentured since she was wild and then became caught and branded.  So, the butler sentiment comes honestly.  However, she does have the free Mustang spirit down deep so this whole servitude thing just really rubs her the wrong way.  However, she is a polite mare so she will come over to greet you and do the right thing.  Then, when you scratch her and tell her you are going to brush her or put her fly mask on, she rolls her eyes, gives a bit of Elvis lip curl and then lets out the Lurch grumbletude.

What’s weird about this grumbletude is that she actually likes to be brushed.  She likes to have her fly mask put on her face.  She likes a plethora of things that she pretends she doesn’t like.  Remi will roll her eyes and play Lurch no matter what.  And, so did Lurch.  You never saw him not being Lurch yet he stayed with the Addams’ and defended them often.  Same with Remi.  She loves it here.  It is just difficult to tell.  This is why I think she is Lurch.  After all, you never see them in the same room together…

TRANSBRED or TRANSSPECIED

So, I’m sure many of you may now begin to recognize the clinical signs of transbreeding or transspecied.  I think these syndromes are here to stay and I think we just have to, as caretakers, understand and roll with it.  If you have a mule that thinks it is a Fresian or a Percheron that thinks he is Baryshnikov, go with it.

Sometimes it is better to appreciate who they are inside instead of what they look like outside…

Today I promised myself that I would take BG (Beautiful Girl) outside the ranch on her first ride with me on her, alone.

Now for those of you who have ever taken a young horse on their first outside ride, you know the inherent demons that exist there.  They are those everyday things that are sure to kill your green horse or maim him or at least scar him for life.  And, according to your young horse, whatever you have taught him doesn’t apply anywhere other than the place where he learned that particular thing.  Oh, and you are stupid, like any teenage kid thinks of his parent.  You, who used to be wonderful, now know nothing and this poor horse is going to meet his fate while trapped on the end of your lead rope.  Or, trapped with your useless weight on his back.

You know what I mean…  Or, maybe you don’t.  Maybe I just pick high-strung horses.  Dunno.  But, I only have one laid back baby and even she cowered behind me on a few of these (I did the same with her.  Her story later).

Ready to go in mismatched tack

So, back to BG.  Sure, I can ride her around my farm.  And, I can ride her with other people, although we haven’t done much of that.  She has had 90 days of very good training.  She is a good girl and we have done many hours of groundwork.  The only thing stopping me from trail riding her alone, is me.  Yup, I have not fully recovered from my accident.  (You can read about it here.)  Before that fateful day, I was as brave as they come.  I really had no worries to ride a horse I knew very well.  In fact, I used to start all of my horses.

But, times have changed and I’m not the same.

BG is kinda my forgotten horse.  She has been saddle trained for 18 months now.  And for that entire time, I’ve been making excuses.  Here are a few:  I have several other riding horses and I’m secure on them so I’ll ride them.  Oh and she doesn’t wear shoes so maybe the ground is too rocky there.  Or, I cannot find a saddle that fits her (which is true but still…).  Or, I’ll just ride her around the ranch today.  And my favorite, she didn’t want to go today so I took Finn.  Oy.

But today I knew my time was up and that I was out of excuses.  I had to be brave.  I had to venture out of the womb of my ranch and take her on a trail ride by myself.  Yikes.   So, I decided to take her to my friend’s lovely training farm.  If I ended up lying in a ditch, someone would find me.  If my horse came running back without a rider, someone would notice.  If neither my horse nor myself came back for the trailer, I know someone would go looking for me.  This would be a “safer” place than just hauling to my favorite trail and riding.  Or so I thought…

I put her in the trailer and off we went.  So far, so good.  We arrived shortly and it was very quiet there. Yay.  Good.

The scary hose lady

I took her out of the trailer and tacked her up.  She was fine (I had taken her there two days ago and walked her around the arena and barn area — me on the ground — in preparation for this day).  She remembered being here and she was at peace.  We walked over to the water trough to get a drink and…

SWWOOOOOSHHYYYSWOOOSSSHHH POP! SWOOOSY SPLATTER SPLAT SWHOOOSHY RATTLERATTLERATTLE !! Snoooooorrrtttty snoortyysnort eeeeeeeeee (gasp) snoooorrrtttttt SNOOOOOOOORTTT BLOW BLOW BLOWWWWWW!!

OY.  We met the evil LADY WITH THE HOSE!…   She was just doing her job but BG thought the world was coming to an end.  The sound of the hose sputtering then crashing against the dirt, then metal, then wood, then back to metal and sputtering was just too much.  She whirled around and told me to step it up to DEFCON 11 and get outta here!  Luckily, I had a firm hold and just asked her, “What?  I’m fine with it.  Haven’t you seen a hose before?”  The problem was that we couldn’t see it.  It was around the corner.  I knew what it was but she was still searching.  So, we went up to the hose lady and took this photo.  Well, I took the photo and BG just snorted and stood on her tippy toes.  Great.  Fabulous start.

BG spent the next 10 minutes telling me that she no longer thought I knew anything because this place was obviously full of dangerous traps.  She was convinced that around every corner would be some hideous surprise.  Sigh.  Not what I needed.  But, I refused to make another excuse.  I would just have to put on my memory cap from when I had no fear and take charge.   I decided to march her around the entire ranch and face all of the evils together.

Scary noisy lesson in a huge building

So we did.  We walked through the barn and past the evil hose lady, again.  We came through a dark alley and out into the sunshine past buzzing bushes, hoses on winders, wall mounted hoses, flower boxes, statues, wash racks, opened doorways, squeaky weather vanes… you name it, and every one had horse eating potential.  As we moved along, we could hear loud voices (as if she hadn’t heard voices before…) and she freaked again.  I just kept going, dragging an 1100 lbs fraidyhorse behind me only to see that the noise was a lesson in the outdoor arena.  We watched for a few moments.  “OK, we’re OK.”  So, we continued and met up with a working tractor.  Oy. Could it get worse?

It was then

Tractor of Death

that I realized that I would never have met up with these first several hazards if I had simply taken her to my favorite trail.  My trying to be cautious actually brought me straight into the Horse Hazard Capitol of Grass Valley!  Everything was here!  My mare was right.  This place was treacherous!

Perfect.  We would face it together as long as I could hold onto her from the ground.  So, we proceeded past the tractor, me singing softly the whole time.  BG kept trying to tell me about the tractor but I just turned to her and sang louder.  She walked behind me searching for the bad things.

After a few minutes, she relaxed enough to notice the dropped hay on the ground from the lunch wagon.

The just stopped their run exactly at the fenceline

Hmmmm.  This place might have some good things after all!  But, you guessed it, as soon as she put her head down to pick up the luscious hay, the horses who lived in that near pasture came barreling down the hill to meet the new visitor.  BG tried to climb a tree.  I swear.  Luckily, the horses did stop in time and just looked at her from their fenceline.  While BG was coming out of the tree, I decided to take a photo.  Then, I introduced everyone, “This is Beautiful Girl, she is a Walking Horse, nice to meet you.  You are all very handsome.”  That seemed to put everyone at ease.

Along the trail we met up with some feisty deer in the brush.  It is criminal that the deer don’t let us know they are in there.  A simple, “Hey, I’m a deer in here” would suffice.  But, in all of my deer experience, I find them mute.  Have you ever heard a deer vocalize anything, ever?  Me neither.  And, that was how it was today.  No warning just a humongous leap out of the brush 10 feet in front of us and a major scampering off into the distance.  BG vomited in her throat a little and pooped, I think, and then she was angry.  She appeared to be embarrassed that she was afraid of a measly deer.  You could just see it in her eyes.  I looked at her and rubbed it in, “See, it was just a deer, don’t you feel silly now?”  She snortsnotted on me and I think I kinda deserved it.

We continued.  We went past a lovely vineyard.

Peaceful vineyard where Mom likes to go tasting...

I told her all about wine and that Daddy and I like to go to that particular Tasting Room and relax on certain weekends…  She thought that was nice.  As we chatting quietly, we came around a corner and ended up walking…  The GAUNTLET.  Unfortunately, I didn’t take a photo.  But, I’ll describe it.  The Gauntlet, as I now call it because we survived, is a row between multiple large pastures.  All of the pastures are filled with curious and large horses who have just been given lunch.  So, they are all at their feeders which are right along the fenceline where we are walking.  Not only that, some have grain in very large metal feeders that make a clanging sound when teeth hit them.

Soothing rose bush

Oh, and the best part, there are pigeons down inside the feeders who are scratching and fighting for the excess grain. Ha! That was the best!  You couldn’t see the pigeons until you were right on top of them and then they would jump up, sputter and fly away in a mess of feathers and squawking.  Heeee heee!  All the horses were giving us stinkeye so that we wouldn’t eat their food. Some were rushing the fences, others were snorting and being pissy.  It was great!  And, we made it.  We made it past the protective horses, past the pigeons and up to the top of The Gauntlet.

But, we were safe for just an instant.  At the top of The Gauntlet were goats, sheep and a llama.  Oh, and they were in front of the garden that had bright whirly things with flapping streamers doing their whirling best to keep the birds away.  Haaa!  Another escapade into horse eating monsters!  BG didn’t know where to look first…

Wide Open Spaces at the end of the arena

the llama freaky thing from Mars or the pinwheel with streamers that was sure to get her.  Oy.  I thought I was going to be crushed.  She was moving so fast and changing direction so fast, I felt like a puppet.  But, Pinocchio hung in there and just hummmed and kept puppet walking.  BG followed because she was now thinking that maybe I knew how to get us out of there.

Onward, the hazards were so plentiful that I felt like the Princess Bride in the Fire Swamp.  After a while, we just jumped a little when our skirts were blasted.  We met the proverbial blue tarp, gator, painted rocks stacked upon themselves, flapping feed bags and automatic sprinklers.  Yup.  We did all of that around the next corner.

Luckily, there was a rose bush at the end and she loves those so we stopped and smelled that.  I took a photo.  I seem to keep forgetting to take photos… I was busy.

Next we came to the outdoor arena and that was a piece of cake.  Arenas we can handle.  Except this one is huge. And there was her fascination for the far end.  The far end had a view of wide open spaces.  That was very exciting…  She wanted to go THERE.  So, we walked out of the arena and down the road towards the wide open spaces.

Me onboard, she's listening... Yay!

All was peaceful and she seemed to be settling right in, finally.  We turned around and came back.  OK, time to get on her and do it again.  Now, mind you, we have already been walking for over an hour.  It was hot and she should have the bucks out of her.  She was quiet and feeling normal…

OK, this was a perfect time to ride.  I brought her into the arena and got on.  BG acted like I had just put a rocket on her back.  Hmmmm.  This was odd.  We rode around but she was not herself.  I figured I’d check her tack and start over.  So, I got off.  Her tack was fine.  Obviously, I thought, adding the riding part was just sensory overload.  But, I couldn’t back down.  Not today.   Even though I knew she was jacked up and no longer calm, I was not going to give in.  Was I being stupid?  Probably.  Was I going to let myself down.  No. So, I stood on the mounting block and prepared to get back on.  And that’s when it happened.  She reached around and bit me.  WHA??!  She bit me?!  Oh, I was pissed…  That was definitely going to leave a mark.

She bit me. I've highlighted my thigh.

I flicked her muzzle instantly and backed her, calmly but firmly, half way around the arena.  (There is nothing like a bite to bring your courage back.)  I was not having any of this!  She held her breath the whole way and looked at me as if to say, “I didn’t mean it!”  Finally, after a lick and chew, I got back on.  She stood like a rock.  She didn’t move.  And we rode.

We rode all around the immense arena for almost 45 minutes.  She kept finding new areas to explore and I kept finding new ways to use the poles that were in there.  I let her move out so I could feel her.  We made many right hand turns (our worst) and just kept moving so that I could really feel how she works.  Once we both relaxed, we opened the gate (she did it!) and we walked outside.  Yay!

Jaws Farmer's Market Truck

All was going really, really well.  We walked where we had walked before.  I felt her being a willful girl but I didn’t give in.  She wanted to visit the vineyard and explore the wide open spaces.  Instead, I chose to walk back towards the trailer … right into the path of our last hazard.  The Farmer’s Market Truck… naaa na, naaa na, na na nananana  OMG!  You’d think it was Jaws.  But, we got past that and to the trailer just about when I knew she was done.

It was a very good day!  We did it.  And not only did we do it together, but my wimping-out actually brought us to the most hazardous place of all!  Funny how that works.  Now the OUTSIDE trails seem easy…

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