Monthly Archives: July 2014

Monsters in the Portable Corral

Years ago I was at a Dressage show in Albuquerque judged by a friend, Brooks Busby, who I also had ridden under a lot. I had my Appy, Breath of Snow (Snookie) and we were “stabled” in pens made of pipe panels. Snookie’s had a bar over the gate where he just missed hitting his head until the second day when… he hit his head going in.

I had my ride time that afternoon for the Adult Medal class at Second Level which required four riders and we had four.

I went to get Snookie to warm up and he was afraid to go back out under the head banging pipe bar. I worked with him quite a bit and decided it was too traumatic to force the situation and sent word to the judge that I had to scratch while I ran to my van for essential oils and a shovel (I thought I might dig under the doorway).

The other riders at second level sent word to me that the judge would allow my ride whenever I got Snookie ready (just please don’t scratch!) and the lady told me, “Brooks said to remind you that a blindfold will do the trick”.

Duh! I thought! I hurried back to the stables. And there I saw a member of the staff of the barn inside with MY horse, beating him with a longe whip while another idiot held the end of a longe line, pulling from outside the pen. I went INSANE!

I won’t repeat the things I said (in the old days, I could reduce anyone to tears if necessary) because it was a tirade of profanity fit for any situation of horror spilling from a sailor’s mouth. The two girls left in a huff, giving Snookie a last swipe with the lash to which I screamed, “Hit him again and I will beat you to a pulp!”

Then, with lavender oil in hand, I sat with him and apologized and cried and held him until I felt I could place my jacket over his face/eyes and slowly ease him out of that horrific pen.

He was so trusting. We got out, went for a walk in hand then I tacked up, rode the test so everyone’s scores would count, untacked, loaded him in the van and left for home, crying.

I no longer compete. That was just one experience in a long line of personal traumas, dramas and observations that convinced me competition was rarely in the horse’s best interest. But, I share this today because of the miracle of that blindfold (my jacket over Snookie’s eyes). Had I thought of it right away, the monsters who attacked my horse in my absence would never have had the opportunity. I never want anyone else to go through such a brutal experience.

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There’s just no predicting…

Fireworks can be terrifying to horses. Some horses will just stand and watch them in awe. Some horses will run through fences and walls in panic at the sight and sound if them!

As we slip into July tonight, I’ve started popping bubble wrap around the stable yard to accustom my horses to the sound and I even do fast, “pop pop pop pop pop”s like a string of fire crackers. This actually helps them feel less reactive when, in four days, the real stuff starts going off.

I wish it wouldn’t happen. Living in the dry, high desert, fireworks are a thing of danger or delight, depending upon your circumstances and your species. One July many years ago, my landlady’s Irish Wolfhound took off in total panic from her yard and disappeared, all from the commotion and violence of neighborhood explosions. The next morning, our 80+ year old friend tracked the dog and found her, alive, hiding in an old silver mine in the mountain above us.

At that same time, my orphaned Arabian colt would stand in his pen watching, delighted as the rockets flew up and spewed colors against the black night sky. There’s just no predicting…

So, I’ve had neighbor kids shoot bottle rockets directly at my horses when I had Briarwood Dressage, my school in the valley. As the sheriff arrived that night, a rocket hit him in the head and bounced over to my shoulder before exploding. Needless to say, the parents of those children were in trouble. I’ve had neighbors, when I worked in EAP, come over and apologize when they realized the horses were scared and they took their fireworks further down the road. There’s just no predicting…

My colt who loved fireworks also loved to watch the spark spewing, crackling, roof high flames of the stone heating fire when we did sweat lodge. Yet, his cousin would leap in the air, spin, bolt and ask questions later when a group of autumn leaves would shuttle down from a mulberry tree. There’s just no predicting…

So, as I start my bubble wrap popping “bomb-proofing”, I recognize the familiar, also very “firecracker” sound, of our bird-of-paradise bushes’ seed pods exploding in the heat. “Hmmm”, I think, “Nature is helping me here”. These seed pods burst open in the day’s heat, totally at random, with a startling first POP followed by the sound of the pod striking a wall, even landing on a roof. It is fortuitous! The horses (and I!) have no warning and just have to get accustomed to the startling-ness of the pods. Nature knows. She is preparing us.

And, with assured regularity, come the 4th, we will have storms roll in with great sopping, black clouds ready to dump waves of water on our parched land. The fear of fires is allayed. There may be hail (ask me about the Electric Light Parade that I drove my pony and cart in last year – never to do again!); there may be Nature’s display of ground searing lightning bolts and spider vein flashes (again, ask me sometime about that parade!).

And, with no way to predict the ratio of fireworks to rain drops to neighborhood parties, the best I can do is turn on all my plastic bulbed Christmas lights that surround the stable yard and play some Jethro Tull to sooth our souls on the 4th. A little magnesium and Tryptophan in evening bran mashes; some lavender and frankincense oils diffused about the place and we will be good to go. Each year here at Dharmahorse, we’ve had pleasant, safe 4th of July’s. I have no reason to think it will be any different this year. I take a deep breath tonight and am simply grateful that I’m not driving my pony and cart in the Electric Light Parade!!

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