Back from the Ranch

I've been that way, back, for quite a while.  And it's been a whirl of often agitated activity: leaping aboard E Z Dollar with delight, saying hello to my parents too, moving into a new apartment, dreading classes, starting classes, planning classes, failing to grade classes' work, trying to socialize, losing my cat, fighting for hot water in my new apartment, you know, just the usual.  While doing all of that I was pretty consistently doing my best not to miss Bitterroot Ranch.

"So what.....Are you going to go to Wyoming forever?"

"Yeah."

This is a conversation my mother and I had over email a few days ago, after I sent her a link to an adoptable dog I wanted to get since my cat is missing and I apparently need a housepet to feel complete, but know that I can't actually get because I am too busy, and what would I do with him in the summer when I go to the ranch?

I can't guarantee that I will go to Wyoming forever, and there are certain elements that make continuing to go somewhat irrational (that I miss out on E Z Showing and Riding Time high among them), but...it gets in your blood.

Photo by Tre Cassetta

There is no doubt that I missed the Dollar.  But there are SO MANY horses out there.  Everywhere you look, horses.  Horses running by you, horses coming to sniff you, horses beside you and underneath you.  So, I was comforted from not having my very own racehorse.  Instead, I had my ranch horses--those wrangler horses you work with, coax past insecurities and are impressed by when they are bolder than you give them credit for.  Due to the kind care of Hadley, the Super Wrangler, my mounts are very rarely the babiest of the learners, or the squirrelliest of the unreliable.  I would never claim to be a trainer, and nor would I claim to be a particularly brave rider, so my favorites are those who have had a few years under saddle and have been already pretty well figured out by the Super Rider herself.
Like Wajir.

Wajie has had more than a few years under saddle, but some squirrellyness still remains.  She is super round, I always crack some joke about her skinny jeans not fitting after her pregnancies, and also still a bit jumptastic.  Like spooking hugely and surprisingly at a thistle.  It's charming.  But she also has the smoothest gaits, the most speedy but ratable canter, and knows her job.  She has a hard little eye, and threatens to pull back every time you tack, making it very clear that she never, ever, wants a lunch pack put on her back, but I would ride her every day out there if I could.  One day moving cows I dismounted to chase them out of a highly wooded and steep ravine, and rather than pull her along as I tried to chase them out I put the reins over the horn and let her follow me.  As we squeezed our way under brush and back out into the open I looked behind me to see her cute little badger face following along obediently, head down to duck the branches, to halt when I stopped and wait to let me remount.


Then there's Kitui.  A younger lil dude who is unpredictable in line, but also knows his job in the front.  Nervous and often startling in the woods, he would nevertheless go anywhere after cows.  A favorite moment of mine was an epic transfer of 16 cows from the bottom of one pasture to another, an occurrence we weren't expecting, so had neither the best cow horses or the most avid riders, and took a full three and a half hour with what felt like Kitui doing all the work, but a beautiful, willing, independent, and totally fun, long canter at the end to reach and open the gate.  Every time a guest offered to take a picture of me on a ride, and I wasn't too embarrassed to say yes, I was riding Kitui, so somewhere out there guests have majestic photos of us on mountaintops and at Butch Cassidy's hideout, but they aren't sharing.  So you'll have to trust me when I say he is the cutest.  Dapple gray with black mane and tail and and black tipped ears, guests would never fail to comment on his good looks (which is maybe why they're holding on the all the photos?).

Update: Here's Kitui! (Thanks Danielle!)

Alicante is a favorite of many.

Can you tell we had a photo-shoot on the bench?

One of what we call the Trios, he is the product of a Thoroughbred-Andalusian sire and an Arabian dam.  As well as being handsome, he is a charmer.  He is probably the most talkative of the herd, nickering constantly if you pass him in the corral and pretty much the whole time he is tied and being tacked.  Not immune to the occasional tantrum, he is still learning, but rarely nasty.  I was glad to have him the day I was riding with a woman and her three young children, and the mother lost conciousness and suffered a seizure while riding.
While trying to keep her stable, her children calm and the horses cooperative, Alicante was the least of my worries, and he willingly left the group to get some help as quickly as we could.  He and some of his half-siblings form a giant, curious gang in the corral, curious and always searching for attention, and probably more so, oaties.


These trusty steeds and many more were my partners for two rides a day, taking guests of varying levels of skill through a variety of trails.  To be aware of them, the guests, the guest-horses, the trail, the cows, be charming to make sure everyone's having a good time and also behaving themselves--it's not always an easy job.  Sometimes it is, and sometimes it is pure pleasure, and you can appreciate how lucky you are to be doing exactly what you are doing.

Because as well as the horses themselves, there's the place that we live in.  And you know you've got it good...

When this the view you outside your cabin...

Photo by Katie Cassetta

and this is your weekend swimming hole...

Photo by Tre 

and this is the first thing you do when you wake up.

There's no doubt that it's a unique and inspiring place.  The minute I get there and am surrounded by the open land, the dry sage and the red mountains, I just feel my heart expanding.  That's not a scientific definition, because that might be worrying, but it's a sense of awe and possibility.

And lastly, and perhaps most importantly, there are the people.

Photo by Katie

The job would be unimaginabley difficult, and way less fun, without the wranglers I work with.  As long as they continue to return, I will find it hard to not do so with them.  I have an affinity with them born of our shared love of the place and the work that we do there that I am lucky to have.

Photo by Tre

The few months I am able to spend on the ranch are often grueling, uncomfortable and difficult.  But out of those experiences there is also a sense of accomplishment, of recognizing your capabilities and seeing the results of your work.  And in addition to those moments there are others of unfettered freedom, adventure, beauty, and possibility.

A Successful Outing

This is my new favorite picture of E Z and me.

For several reasons:

1) Look how shiny!

2) Isn't his tail so cute, laying on the grass like that?

3) Our green accessories are creating a trend. Like the grass.

4) Speaking of grass, check out that sneaky nom.

5) Donovan's ears are so cute.  Love ear pictures.

6) This is one of my favorite spots on the farm.  Such a pretty view, but not all that EZily accessible.

Photo credit goes to Steve, who came with Cathleen and I on a ride yesterday.  Here they are:

Adorableness abounds.

We were all over the group shots.  Here's Cathleen and I:

The sky looks so fancy.

And once we got back home, Donovan traded Steve for Mamalyn, to try out the new Western saddle and also to get all the Indian Pond Farm women together for yet another group shot.

Adorable.  And Donovan is the only non-sneaky-nommer.

The other exciting thing about this ride, in addition to the great group shots, was the river crossing.
E Z and I have been working on puddles and other bodies of water for awhile now.  He doesn't love them.  And we always get through the puddles and by the end of the ride he is fine with them, but we often have to start over again the next day.

And to get to that pretty view point, we have to cross a stream.  A stream that was pretty high for quite some time, because of the beaver population.  But the beavers all mysteriously disappeared; let's assume they went to a better place.  And now the river is nice and low.  But E Z still was not a fan.  He wouldn't go near it.  I walked him in and really only succeeded in testing out my waterproof boots (legitimately waterproof!).  We worked on going to the edge and just standing.  Then taking a single step forward, then just standing.  Then turning around when I asked.  I thought this would be a very long project.






But, I underestimated the momentum of the group.  With Dutchboy and Donovan both willing river crossers, E Z needed only a little encouragement and followed right along.








I didn't get a shot of us actually in the river, so you'll just have to take this as evidence enough.

We did it!

All in all, a successful outing!

Kent Horse Trials

I have been in a black hole of noncommunication--and now after the event at Kent last Sunday some of my self-induced stress has lifted, so, hey again!

Arguably those weeks leading up to the event might have been the most interesting to comment on, since much of my life was revolving around EZdolla and our preparations.  But, of course, since I was so stressing I didn't have a moment's thought of taking pictures or otherwise documenting.  My b.

A few weeks ago I harassed Ronan to tell me what I should be doing to be getting ready.  He gave me some jump standards and told me to cut down some trees for poles.  Then I'd be all set!

So, I put dad to work, naturally.  And he cut down nice, impressively straight baby trees that EZ and I jumped over (starting with the teeniet tiniest crossrail, of course, as I like to do).

My favorite moment was when the grandchildren of our neighbors were out behind their house, that abuts the little arena area.  They had visited with EZ before and fed him grass and been enchanted, so on this particular day when I headed down there they asked if EZ Dollar was going to jump, and I was impressed with them for remembering his name, and assured them that yes, he was, with flying colors.  So they proceeded to watch, mesmerized, as one is, and every time we went over a jump they cheered, "Yay, EZ Dollar!  He's such a good jumper, isn't he?"  It was great having our own little cheering squad, just like my inner dialogue being yelled out loud!

Then I also needed to get ready for dressage, which meant measuring out the distances of the arena letters.  Yoohoo, daddy!  Pathetic, I know.  I really tried to do it by myself, but I was no good at it at all.  But with dad's help we eventually got it straightened away, and then he even mowed!  It looked real profesh.

Then the weekend before the event Ronan took us schooling xcountry, at Riga Meadows.  And I proceeded to be rocked.

This does not look intense.  But I am telling you, up close these xcountry suckers are thick!  And just totally different from anything EZ or I had jumped in a long while.  So EZ stopped.  Or he went right up to the base and then launched himself hugely over, all four feet at once, in a bunny hop style that threw me all over the place and caused me to lose my reins on more than one occasion.  Or he flailed over on his belly.  It was intense, I'm telling you.

And it was weird, what it felt like.  I wasn't scared, per se, but I certainly wasn't feeling it.  Ronan borrowed my helmet and clambered aboard and rode with long stirrups with one hand behind him tapping EZ's rump and whooping all the while, and they got it done.

The rest of the course went pretty much the same.  But by the end there were less bunny hops and scrabbling over and he was taking me to them.  Like to this little cutie:

 

So we ended on a good note, but I never really felt like  I could breathe and then I was sore for a legit three days afterward.  Rocked me.

Then Ronan took EZ back to Kinnitty Capall for the week before Kent and assured me he would ride him and get him over some jumps there and we would be totally ready.

I rode EZcutie at Kinnitty Capall that week and he was cute and good and then I had another jumping lesson with Ronan on Saturday.  It went well!  We went over the jumps at good distances, I was feeling confident.  Until we were supposed to jump out of the ring.  Over a little coop (that seemed gigantic).  EZ was unconvinced, as was I, and we mostly reverted back to scrabbling/bunny hopping.  But, we did make it over.  And his mane was pulled and his tail was banged and his coat was all washed and shiny and new saddle pads and reins were bought and we were going.

That afternoon after cleaning tack and packing the car up, we walked the course (that Ronan designed--yay Ronan!).  Again, the solidness of these babies was somewhat alarming to me.  They seemed wide and they seemed sort of frightening.  Particularly bright ones heading downhill.  But a few of them looked fun--there was a narrow little one that was nice and low, and cute little drop, a fun little ramp up and down, and a nice jump up to a little galloping hill.  Nonetheless, my stomach was basically balled in trepidation.

"What hand should you have your crop in for this one?" Ronan would ask.  "Well, it was in my left hand for the last jump, so I'm pretty sure it will still be in my left," was my reply.  Are you kidding me?  I'm going to be so focused on trying to stay on the horse and to breathe that I'm quite sure I won't be thinking about my crop.

Sunday, the day of the show, it was raining.  This had pretty much been guaranteed by the forecast, but I had been optimistically in denial.  I hadn't even worn my rainpants after debating briefly in the morning, and the minute we got to the showgrounds the deluge seemed to start and I knew this was a bad choice.  It was pretty cold and wet and miserable and people were scratching left and right.  All of this did nothing to ease my feelings of trepidation.

Show days are peculiar.  I can't say that the day itself is fun.  I am a mess.  I am panicky and stressed.  I am worried about remembering the course, about getting the braids to look pretty, about my tack and clothing and having time to warm up.  I can't eat a thing.  Thank goodness there were patient helpers.  It was Amy's first event in 10 years and she was showing in my division with times minutes away from mine, and so she was an excellent teammate.  Jennifer from Kinnitty Capall (who got her sweet little OTTB from Akindale too!) was there to groom and generally help me in my time of need.  And dear old dad, reliable to a fault, could always be counted on to hold a horse or a jacket or a saddle.  Mama feels too much of my stress and so was sending happy thoughts from home.

But once I was on EZ, I felt fine.  He felt good.  I figured we'd take it one step at a time.  See how dressage went.  Warm up for stadium, see how that felt.  I decided though that xcountry would be too much.  The wet weather made my already uneasy nerves even worse.

This brought up a whole host of feelings though.  Did this mean I didn't really want to event?  Would I ever be able to follow through?  Maybe this just wasn't for me.  What would I do with EZ then?  What would our goal be?  Was I really the type of rider who chickened out?  How much was this really about the rain, and how much was it that I was just scared?  Why am I doing something that scares me?
I was uneasy.

But we got all set for dressage and it was our first official test together and it was cute.  Not particularly good, we picked up the wrong lead, had lots of bobbles and unevenness, but cute--it even had stopped raining!

Then I agonized some more until it was time for stadium.  And again, once I got on, I felt good.  Warm up was questionable, but we were going over things.  The first jump was an oxer that seemed big to me, but then again, everything bigger than my teeny tiny crossrails seem big to me.

By this time the rain had settled into sprinkles, but also with a fairly heavy mist.

It was not so pretty.  We reveled in the bunny jumps and took down two rails.  But we made it around!  EZ didn't hesitate to take them, and I tried not to either.  See for yourself, in this video so generously filmed by KC!

Here is a another picture by dad, which captures both the mist and my apparently preferred jumping style, hands ratcheted on, holding on for dear life.  Poor EZ.

As I said, not necessarily pretty, but we made it!  It's crazy how during the round really there seems to be no thinking, just doing.  During the combination the first jump was pretty awful and EZ was confused and tried to avoid taking the second, but I hauled him over it, at which point Ronan claims he said, "You can tell that's one of mine!" which makes me sort of proud.  He really is the best cheerleader, as you can hear at the very end of that video.

Here's the professional fancypants photo--the only one that wasn't crazily ridiculous looking (seriously, my facial expressions--and EZ's actually--are phenomenal), and they were even able to photoshop some of the fog out it looks like.

We're flying!

When we were done we finally got to meet KC, who took further documentation, although Dollar wasn't so down for standing still.

 Look guys!  I'm an eventer!

Thanks, KC!!


Then a quick one-two change of the body protector for the jacket, and we were off to xcountry.

"How are you doing?" Ronan asked as the rain picked up again.
"Not good.  I don't know if I want to do this."  I had told Jennifer, Amy and dad that I was deciding to not do the last portion, but I hadn't yet consulted Ronan.  I didn't worry that he would try to convince me to do something I wasn't comfortable with, but I also didn't want to be lame, or disappoint him.  But he told me that only I could know what I was feeling and to only do what I felt like, like the good little trainer he is.  I told him that jumps 3 (a thick brush jump), 4 (a red chair type jump going downhill slightly) and 5 (a hay bale jump coming out of the woods) were worrying me in particular.  He observed that they seemed to be riding ok from what he had seen, but I could always just do the first one, cross the water that I knew might be a challenge, do the next one and stop there if I wanted.  All this seemed reasonable, I was there, EZ seemed good, I thought that I would give it a try.

And of course, all the rest is basically a blur, when adrenaline I guess takes over.  EZ felt great, no hesitations at all (except for the puddle, but that didn't really count), he locked on to the jumps and just went for them.  The little drop and up and the ramps and the hill were all as fun as I anticipated, and I just tried not to leave room for doubt during all the rest. I even managed to change my crop at the prescribed places!

When we were taking the last jump I knew we were home free, there hadn't been a single refusal, nor any of the totally awkward belly scrabbles or bunny jumps (except for a bit, of course, at the jump the professional photographer was waiting at).  When I heard Ronan's signature Irish whoop, dad was able to capture my celebratory response:

There is much to be improved upon.  But also much to celebrate.  We finished our first event together!  Despite much self-doubt and questioning, we did so fairly successfully, placing 5th in our division.  EZ seemed to like it and, now that it is all over, I can say that I did too.

Country Animals

EZ and co. had some more visitors this weekend.  Randi and Caroline made the trek from New York City to the Millbrook School Log Cabin for some fresh country air.  And gossip magazines.  Ooooh, and the zoo, where we were all captivated by these guys (all photo credits to Caroline):

Yup, high school with a zoo, no big deal.

Since in the country there is really nothing else to do than look at various animals, both exotic and farm, we also made a visit to both Indian Pond Farm and Broken Wheel Ranch.

Here is Caroline, both she and Donovan seeming awestruck with each other.

And here Randi and Dutch Boy seem equally delighted with each other's company. 

 Even more delighted here!  The horses are hoping that the proximity to the tack room door may indicate a possibilities for treats, and just working their charming magic on the lady from the boogie down.

"Yeah, ok, this is fun and all, but where are the treats?"

The tiny charmers were also out in full force.  Donker was not enjoying the rainy weather though.

Myma was totally digging her hay-filled burrow, however, only emerging at the ever promising possible presence of food.

Next we went next door to visit Mr EZdarlingdoo.

And to do some doctoring, because that's what we do when we go to Broken Wheel Ranch.

Some for the chest...

A little more on the eye...he loves it.  He actually is a very good patient, and I bribe him in between each dab.

The star of this visit though, had to be Rafter Cat.  Ask Randi and Caroline to sing you the song they composed in his (her?) honor.  It's a great jingle.

Here Randi is probably trying to get a better look at Rafter Cat.

The good thing about having visitors, other than that they are wonderful people whom I love, is that they take pictures of EZ and me, and we get to work on our glamor shots.

A Retrospective

Mom found a photo album I had compiled during high school tucked away in one of her drawers.  Why she is hoarding my photo collections is a separate issue (but maybe not a difficult one--apron strings, anyone?) (love you, mom!). 

Anyway, all of the pictures I had taken the time to lovingly place in the album were of me and my various horses.  There were a bunch of me with my parents too, but they were sort of just tucked in haphazardly--priorities, you know (love you, parents!)?  Anyway, I convinced mom to scan some of them for me, because she's the bombdiggity.


















So here we are--at the beginning, Liz and I with our horses!  She is riding Rodeo Rosie, and I am on Sheena, the only other horse I can legitimately have called my own before Mr EZ.  We have ridden up to our grandparents' cabin by the lake, where probably Grammie is standing on the porch and maybe having a slight issue with camera aim.  There are many observations to be made:

1) Rosie's apaloosa markings were and continue to be way badass (no pun intended about the ass part).
2) We are wearing "Heels Down!" riding sneakers.  So cool.  And shorts, which I recall being uncomfortable in the long run.
2) My helmet, set at a jaunty angle, is missing its visor, I think because I used it also as a biking helmet.
3) Look how blond I was.
4) Sheena's noseband looks a tad high, no?

There are more, but I'll let you make them.

This is with Skeeter, the Arabian schoolmaster who taught me dressage.  Obviously a very good teacher--check out that ribbon!  That cute little bay there to the left was named Matilda and it was actually while riding her that I learned how to steer and my instructor thought maybe there was hope after all at becoming good at the whole riding thing and upgraded me to Skeeter.  His real name was MC Jabaskan, very fancy, from the fancy Bask Arabian line.  He also had a mad intense sway back--you can see some of his hardcore padding.  But he was an incredible horse and my long time partner.  I don't know what's up with my look here--apparently trying out some modeling glares.  Or the sun was in my face.  Blinding!

Here I continue my pretty awesome modeling skills while getting Skeeter ready for the show.  I was never all that good at the button braids.  I think I remember being very hot and stressed at this exact moment.  Mom is being very helpful, whispering soothing sweet nothings to both of us, by the looks of it.  See, I wasn't kidding about that swayback.  Once I was riding in a clinic with a bunch of other kids on their dinky horses and we were doing leg-yielding, and the clinician said something about having to take confirmation into account and basically she didn't think Skeeter would be able to do them very well, and I was like, Oh yeah?  and then we schooled them.  He was the best. 

After the braiding was done, here I am in my show clothes, apparently skeptical at whatever dad is saying.  Pretty sure that was a velcro stock tie.  And that's definitely a velvet cover for my plastic helmet.  And also definitely our maroon Volvo station wagon in the background.  (so many Vs!)

Another few years later and here I am on Patrick  (total Nev look alike!).  This is at the Northeast Junior and Young Riders' Dressage Championships, I think my third year going.  I was showing Patrick at Training Level and Skeeter at First.  I loved this dude.  I was awestruck by how huge and cool he was and got my instructor to let me ride him, and she said something like, "You did better than I thought you would with him," which was super encouraging.  Please observe that I have moved on to French braiding the mane, even though it is unfortunately a bit wavy.  Also observe Liz's toned leg muscle in the background.

He definitely wasn't the easiest to ride, but I loved that I felt like I made a statement on him.  We would not be ignored!  We had a shoulder issue though.  A few months after this show while struggling to control the bulge in a lesson I finally just halted him and threw my arms up in exasperation and said, I give up!  I can not do this anymore!  And my instructor patiently said, Well ok.  How about we finish the lesson though?

It was not during this test, but during a prix caprilli one in a similar arena that Patrick just exited the arena at the corner.  Seriously, the shoulder bulge just bulged right over the fence.  I hoped no one noticed, but yeah, we were disqualified from that one.

In the Winner's Circle!  Whatwhat!  Look at how much less loot I get at second place than the first place rider did.  Lame!  At least I still got a medal.  I think this is the same year that I rode both Skeeter and Patrick, and got second in both my categories (although maybe my helmet is different, so maybe it was a different year?  My memory is like swiss cheese).  Possibly the zenith of my riding career.

...although, later on I did go to the Arabian Championships and there were some pictures of those that I can post once they are scanned (no pressure, mom.  I swear)...

All in all though, you gotta admit, pretty cute, right?  And this is how I spent my summers.  Riding these little buggers, working at Cricket Hill Farm in order to do so, and trying my damndest to rack up as many of those ribbons as possible.  Except for the ribbon part, some things never change.