Brace yourselves, Tucker fans. . .   Tucker and I are really taking this cross-training thing seriously.  First, a dressage clinic, and now, cross-country schooling with our friends Dom and CP:

Tucker falls in love with yet another pony...

Haha, okay, so I didn’t really go wild, but when I strapped on a safety vest and went marching into the water complex, my inner Hunter Princess just stood there with her mouth gaped open in shock.  But Tucker and I had huge smiles on our faces!

See?

Tucker LOVED the water and did lots and lots of splashing.

This is the weirdest horse show we've ever been to... but I like it!

Dom and I trotted in circles around the water complex giggling like idiots (Best Carousel EVER!) until some real eventers came over the hill to actually school the water complex (the look on their faces was priceless) and we decided to venture elsewhere. . . .

When we tackled the first jump of the day, Tucker was, shall we say, a little bit impressed with the natural obstacles he encountered.  Always the gallant hero, Tucker decided that just in case any predators were lurking below, he should clear them by at least four feet:

Scopey, ain't he?

But as the day progressed, and Tucker got the hang of this cross country thing, he relaxed into himself and started jumping more like his normal adorable self, clearing them by a reasonable amount of space:

Such a good boy!

 

And so brave!

The funniest part of the day, for me, was when I walked my little hunter up to take a look at the bank before I asked him to jump out of the water and onto the bank (you know, given that we’ve never done anything like that before, I figured I should give him the benefit of the doubt and let him have a look first).  Tucker’s response?  “Oh!  Exit that way?  Okay, hang on Mom!”

Note the length of my reins....

Clearly, this horse was a five star eventer in a past life or something.  He had such a good time.  I was so shocked and so over-the-top thrilled at how brave, sane, and willing he was.  This horse really is game for just about anything!

My favorite pictures from the day are below, and there are more here on Dom’s website (along with pictures of Dom’s amazing almost-fall-and-impressive-save, and some great shots of CP the Pony).

Water + Horse = Permanent Grin.

Mike laid on the ground to take this, he's pretty brave himself.

This horse is gorgeous, if I do say so myself.

 Photo credit for all of these goes to Dom’s boyfriend Mike.  And ladies (those of you who follow Dom’s blog), since I know that there are quite a few Mike fans out there, and having met him I know now that this will embarrass the hell out of him, I want you to know that Mike is just as charming and helpful and good-looking in person as he appears on Dom’s blog.  He made a comment about being happy to be spending a day around horses — no, I’m not kidding — and I just about drove the truck and trailer off the highway.  It’s a good thing Dom is so incredibly wonderful or else I think we’d all have to hate her.

Oh and I almost forgot!  I met Ozzy!!  Well, I got molested by Ozzy, is more like it.  There are certain horses I know (you may be familiar) that, despite the plain brown wrapper, stand out in a crowd.  Ozzy is definitely one of them.  You can see his personality from a mile away.  He and I were instant friends.  He showed me a bunch of his tricks, then pointed out all his most itchy spots and let me scratch them, and then we kind of made out.  I know, I know, I barely know the guy, but sometimes when the mood strikes, you just have to go with it.  I must say, there is just something about a big bay gelding that tugs at my heartstrings:

Ozzy (photo by Dom)

Dr. Norton, Oscar, and Marty

Dr. Norton, who runs Norton Veterinary Consulting & Education Resources, has been a friend of mine since we were both riding small pony hunters and studying for spelling tests on the bus to school.  She’s a Tucker fan too, and did a great blog post today about The Umbrella Study, in response to the post I did yesterday about Tucker’s encounter with a deadly row boat.  I found this study fascinating – go check it out.  It’s cold hard proof that our horses absolutely feed off of our emotions and our thoughts.

After reading about the Umbrella Study I thought back on the ride.  I think we all know that I must have been wondering if Tucker was going to behave himself on our walk around the lake.  I was probably feeling really comfortable while we took the path we always take, but as soon as we rounded the turn, making a right instead of a left (onto unfamiliar territory), I’m willing to bet my heart rate went up, sending all kinds of early warning signals to Tucker.  It’s no coincidence he spotted the row boat/saber tooth lying in wait just after we rounded that turn.  And I bet my heart rate continued to increase with every spook and spin, and probably didn’t go back to normal until we reached the row boat itself and Tucker didn’t seem all that scared, which in turn signaled to Tucker that everything was indeed fine, cueing him in that it was okay to proceed around the lake. 

In sum, I’m willing to admit that I started it.  Tucker is (once again) the brains of this operation. 

Only as scary as you make 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.