After a week of relatively relaxed rides at the new-old barn. . . we had another not-so-great ride yesterday.  As you recall, I suspected a few weeks ago that Tucker may have been having a mid-life crisis.  Yesterday I had to get off and lunge the poor beast (on a really hot day, which I really hated doing to him), because he was spooking (at something that shouldn’t have been quite that scary) so badly that he was becoming unsafe, for both of us.  (Read:  I do not trust my big clumsy horse to stand on his hind legs and not kill us both.)

As you know, these situations cause an immediate morph into Rider-Scientist Extraordinaire.  I’ll walk you through my varied list of hypotheses as to the possible causes of this errant behavior, and show you where the Process of Elimination has gotten me so far.

1.  I went with the easiest solution first — maybe it’s just a little extra-special Spring Fever, and maybe he just needs a few pro rides.  Limited success there, I know the pro I was using had one very good ride on him.  Since he was spooking and occasionally acting like a moron (sorry Tucker, but it’s true dear) even with the pro, though, I don’t think that was the solution.

2.  Next guess was the grain, and this hypothesis definitely had merit.  When I switched barns, we also switched feeds.  He has been on Omelene 400, which is a grain that I love, for about 3 1/2 years now (he also gets beet pulp, but that didn’t change).  It’s low sugar, low protein (12%), and high fiber, and it’s forage-based (beet pulp), not grain-based, which seems to be better for Tucker.  It also has the Amplify nugget built right in, which is a weight-gain supplement I had looked into even before I started this feed.  When we moved, we switched him to Triple Crown Complete, which was the preferred feed of the barn manager there, who is very knowledgeable about nutrition and feeding.  It’s also beet pulp-based, and it’s the same 12% protein level, so I figured it was comparable.  It is, however, higher in sugar and lower in fiber, and anyone who has ever been on a diet will know immediately that means more calories.  Since Tucker was high as a kite, I thought maybe the change in feed was making him fresh.  Long story short, he’s back on the O-400 (has been for several weeks now), but the issue still isn’t resolved.  So, the grain-switch may not have helped matters, but the buck (haha, pun intended) does not stop here.

3.  Though this one wasn’t on my original list, it occurred to me after I moved that I might have been stressed out by outside factors (read: barn drama), and Tucker was picking up on the bad vibes and responding.  I’ve been blissfully happy since moving back to the new place, so I don’t think that was it.  I am usually 100% willing to take the blame when things go awry, but in this case, I don’t think it was my nervous energy causing all the problems.

4.  My next guess is ulcers.  The last time we had stomach trouble, it was after Tucker’s first away show.  When we came home, he was cranky undersaddle, super-sensitive to my leg, and throwing temper tantrums in his stall at feeding time (pawing, pacing, slamming his sides into the walls).  We treated for ulcers, then put him on SmartGut, and the behavior stopped.  That was about two years ago.  This time, we moved barns, we switched grain, and I gave him a heavy dose of wormer right before the move (in hindsight, that was bad timing).  I’ve been gathering as much info as I can, searching the COTH forum, reading veterinary articles, talking to other horse owners, etc.  It seems a lot of horses showed signs of ulcers in the form of massive spooking.  Many riders described it as “Jekyll and Hyde” behavior, which fits Tucker right now to a tee.  Some days he is lovely (like our cross country day, and our hack in the dark the other night), and other days, it is like trying to ride a fire-breathing dragon.

So, I talked to my vet’s office today, and we decided to go through a round of UlcerGard.  I’m going to give him one tube per day for about ten days, and will see if he shows any signs of improvement.  If he does, we’ll keep going for another 18 days (good lord that is going to hurt my wallet), and if not, I’ll set up a physical with my vet and see if everything is okay otherwise.  (Spooking could be vision-related, or he could be having pain elsewhere, so the tension when he spooks could be increasing the physical discomfort, say if he’s already got stiffness in his back or something).  Then again, if all this is inconclusive, he could just be going through a naughty phase, but I’d like to think better of him than that, for now.

Incidentally, FarmVet is having a sale on UlcerGard right now, $29.99 per tube if you buy twelve at a time.  Offer is good until this Friday… which gives me just enough time to transfer money out of my savings.  Sigh.  As quick as I save it, Tucker finds a way to spend it . . . .

Ever noticed how a lot of things in riding follow the old “chicken or the egg” principle?  Sometimes it’s tough to know who is feeding off of whom, and who started it. 

I was pretty much fully recovered physically from my fall last week by Thursday (thanks to a steady routine of Sore-No-More, Advil, and Vodka), but the mental effects lingered well into the weekend.  I’ve only been bucked off my horse once before (I’ve mentioned he’s basically a saint, right?), a few years ago, and I got pretty hurt, so it was a few weeks before I could get back on.  After that fall, I found myself terrified of him, and had to lunge him before I got on (yes, the big sweet overgrown labrador, on the lunge line, for no reason at all, looking at me like I was nuts).  This time was far less traumatic, but I still found myself feeling overly cautious when I climbed back into the tack.  When he spooked at a jump standard as we trotted past it, I couldn’t help but wonder — am I creating this, because I’m worried about it?  They read us so well, it’s entirely possible that I was giving off some weird vibes.

So after the ride, we went for a long walk.  There is a beautiful pond on the farm and I wanted to go walk around it.  Tucker had never been back there, and ordinarily I would try to take him with a buddy the first time.  But I felt strongly, on this beautiful Spring morning, with the birds chirping and the sun shining and everything smelling like sunshine and flowers, that we needed some bonding time.  So we headed out alone, and Tucker marched along like a champ, enjoying the breeze, ears forward, tail swinging, until we got about 100 yards away from the pond.

That’s when we spotted the Row Boat Tied to the Tree.  Not something that would scare you or me, but Tucker explained, rather calmly [picture the voice-over on a National Geographic documentary], standing stock still in his tracks, that he is a 1200-pound, juicy, tasty, lean, flight animal, and he was therefore altogether NOT in the habit of nonchalantly approaching unidentified objects that could very well turn out to be sleeping predators just waiting for a mid-morning snack.  It’s just plain common sense.  Obviously.

As I asked him to move forward, he became insistent that turning and running was for my benefit as well, and made a few bids to spin, which I somehow avoided by sitting still and guiding him forward with an opening rein.  Tucker, on the other hand, was in FULL DRAMA LLAMA MODE.  He is, after all, primarily responsible for my welfare, and will bravely escort me to safety in the face of certain danger, when necessary.  So we took about ten steps at a time, stopped, threw the periscope up, and stared at the row boat/sleeping jaguar, about ten times.  I tried to reassure him that it was just a boat.  He said, “I DON’T KNOW FROM BOATS.”  I tried to reason with him, I asked him what else would be beside a lake besides a row boat?  He sighed and explained that horses don’t have the time or energy for that kind of logic.  Spook now, think later, live to tell the tale.

Once we got about ten feet from the boat (after a meandering, circling, stop-and-go journey), Tucker lowered his head, snorted, sighed, and said “Ohhhhhhh.  That’s not scary.  Sheesh mom, you should really lighten up.”  And then proceeded to walk past it, unasked, as though nothing had occurred.  I burst out laughing and gave him a pat. Was he playing games with me?  Did I anticipate that he would spook at the boat, and put the idea in his head?  Or did I handle it just right, calmly encouraging him to walk forward, knowing all along that once he saw it, he wouldnt’ be afraid?  (You may notice, new readers, that I tend to overthink things, just a tad.)

Then we got to the Trust Walk part of our ride.  Walking around the lake, we had about six feet of flat-ish surface, with a steep drop into the woods to our right, and water to our left.  Not wanting to swim or somersault, I explained to Tucker that I was counting on him to be brave.  If he spooked, we’d be in trouble.  So it was up to him — I was relying on him to take care of me.  Wouldn’t you know it?  Tucker didn’t spook once.  Not at the squawking geese, not at the huge upturned tree, not at the picnic table.  We came to a shady spot under a big tree, and Tucker stopped, cocked a hind leg, and seemed to be pausing to take in the scenery.  He was right, by the way — it’s beautiful out there.  The pond, the meadow, the trees, the wildflowers.  And as we stood there, just a little girl and her big brown horse, I realized that as soon as I trusted him, he morphed back into the trusty steed I know and love.

We walked back to the barn on the buckle, blissful and relaxed.  I fell in love with those giant ears all over again (for the 100th time), and stayed in a good mood for the rest of the day.  Amazing how they do that for us, isn’t it?  I don’t remember who said it, but an older wiser horseman once told me that if you treat them like they’re crazy, they’ll show you crazy.  My goal for Wednesday’s lesson:  treat him like the good boy I know he can be.  I get enough crazy in my life outside the tack, thankyouverymuch.

Remember how Danny changed after that first summer?

My horse appears to be suffering from a mid-life crisis.  He did just turn ten, after all.  Seems to be in the midst of some sort of existential dilemma, I’m afraid.  Perhaps it’s an identity crisis?  He’s been a good guy for so long, maybe he’s just experimenting with the bad-boy persona.  Feeling his wild oats, literally.

 I had a jumping lesson with Lindsay yesterday and all started out well.  We actually had some real lead change breakthroughs (!). We worked on counter-cantering, switching from outside to inside bend, and then we’d ask for the change just before the corner by pushing him out, stepping my weight to the outside and then asking lightly with my outside leg.  I missed a few at first, but once I got it, they were great — smooth, and relaxed, and clean.  Everyone’s always told me the counter-canter is a great tool for learning changes, but I feel like now it’s finally clicking for me.

 Then we started jumping, and things started off fine while we were working on some single verticals on a circle.  Then Tucker’s turnout buddy left the ring, which shouldn’t be that much of a crisis, unless you’re a big fresh horse looking for a good excuse.  He was clearly tense, but thus far behaving (other than squealing — which I could always do without), and I figured he’d get over it in a minute. When we added another vertical on the diagonal, landing with a sharp left turn, Tucker was a bit strong — pulling me to the jump on the last stride, then grabbing the bit and rooting the reins on landing.  Still rideable, but less than pretty.  Then we added another vertical on the diagonal, off the short turn, going toward home, and all hell broke loose.  Tucker apparently mistook that vertical for the starting gate at Belmont Park, so we landed going Mach 10.  (Not exactly the stuff that winning hunter rounds are made of).

So, the next time we jumped that vertical, instead of heading straight down the back stretch — er, diagonal — we opted to land and continue turning left back to the rail.  Tucker did not approve of this plan at all, and voiced his opinion with some head shaking and more rooting of the reins, but at this point I was still trying my best to ignore him.  The next time we came to this fence, again planning to turn left, Tucker decided he had had quite enough and opted forego the subtleties of head tossing in lieu of a more definite statement. 

It was one of those jumps where you know before the horse leaves the ground that things are going nowhere good.  You know that feeling when the horse grabs the bit between his teeth, jumps the meager 2’6″ vertical beneath him like it’s the last fence of the Aachen Grand Prix, and lands with every muscle flexed and ready for launch?  Yup, it was one of those.  In the midst of an extremely athletic series of leaps, twists, broncs, and bucks, I heard a voice in my head say, quite calmly actually, “You are not staying on this one.  Just fall.”  Then, because Tucker is so gosh darn tall and was roughly ten feet in the air at this point to begin with, the voice said, a little more panicky, “Where the heck is the ground?!

It was just like this, except I was in the fetal position at this point.

THUD.  Oh yes, there it is.  Thankfully, we just got new footing in the outdoor ring, and it was a soft landing.  Other than some scrapes on my arm from the sand and what is sure to be a splendid bruise on my butt, I’m completely fine.  Still, the makers of Advil may send me a thank you note for my patronage today. 

 After we caught the wild beast, Lindsay got on and jumped him for about 15-20 minutes straight.  She was firm with him to start out with, and had to pull him up when he landed and threatened to repeat his dazzling PBR performance, but as soon as he started behaving she rewarded him by being soft again.  It didn’t take him long to realize that life is a whole lot easier when he plays by the rules.  I got back on and jumped a single vertical on the circle a few times, then did my little course twice more.  By now I had my horse back.  I was able to ride really softly to each fence, give him a nice release, and he was willing to wait or calmly extend his canter, as requested, no emergency dismount necessary.  He even seemed a bit contrite.

This isn’t the first time in the past few weeks that I’ve had a rough jumping session with him.  There was this ride, where he wasn’t naughty but really strong, and there were a few others in between that weren’t exactly stellar.  Basically, he just hasn’t been as rideable as usual, but I was chalking it up to Spring Fever.  Now it’s clear that we have something that needs to be addressed, so of course I’m making my usual rider list of “what could be causing this” and will be going through the isolation of variables process until I figure out a solution (you know the usual suspects: training, attitude, pilot error, discomfort, ulcers, feed program, etc.).  I swear, teams of NASA scientists have nothing on a rider trying to figure out her horse’s most recent change in behavior.

This week’s plan is to have Lindsay do two jump schools with him during the week, and I’ll take another lesson this weekend, to see if a few pro rides will bring him back to his senses.  He didn’t jump that much this winter, so it’s possible he’s just a bit over-zealous now that we’re back outside and doing courses.  Let’s hope it’s that simple.

Maybe I should watch Grease again. . .  Sandy sure seemed to know how to straighten her bad boy out.

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p.s. – Today is the last day to enter my Giveaway!  Like Tucker the Wunderkind and Sidelines Magazine on facebook for a chance to win a free subscription to Sidelines.  Winner will be announced tomorrow on Tucker’s facebook page.