As some of you will remember from posts on Facebook (when I could still get there)…the concussion I had in 2018 came from being bucked off by Mocha, a mare I had recently bought but not yet ridden (except that first brief ride with her former owner there) on the day she tossed me head first to the ground and kicked R- as she bucked wildly around the barn lot. She bucked hard, and kept bucking after we were both “floored” and when I got back from the hospital, once more sure of the day of the week, month, my name, where I was, etc, etc, I knew from previous experience with concussions that I must not get on her myself until she’d been checked out by a professional and I’d had several weeks of recovery. (Mocha, for those who don’t remember or never saw the whole story, is now apparently living her best life on a California ranch with a male owner who thinks she’s fantastic. She is a man’s mare; there are such, just as there are male horses who never buck with women, only with men. Plus the mares and geldings that never buck, and others who test out every rider.)
At any rate, the next day I started looking for a trainer to work with Mocha, in the hope that she would become my riding horse after all. A trainer who looked promising online told me she didn’t have any space in her schedule but recommended Laci S- as a younger woman who started colts for her. So I called Laci S- and she came over, came back with a trailer, and took Mocha away, and two weeks later said she was making progress with her and I should come see (I had said I wouldn’t drive for two weeks. Any doctor would have said “Longer than that, and not until you’ve been evaluated again,” but, um, I am of the breed that a) is horse-crazy and b) thinks she’s tougher than that, so I drove over and watched Laci ride Mocha. Mocha was on her best behavior. Laci didn’t think I should get on her until she’d had a full thirty days “refreshing” her training, so I went on back home but also took a lesson and discovered that I was a) terrified to mount and b) couldn’t get my right leg over the saddle without help and c) being on a horse didn’t feel like being on a horse. Laci suggested I needed a month of lessons before I got on Mocha and that certainly made sense. Right around the end of the first month, Mocha looked even better. Like this:
There are no pictures of her bucking.
At my next scheduled lesson, Laci said “We need to talk.” And I noticed she was moving stiffly. Mocha had kept the butter from melting in her mouth until Day 29 of 30, and then exploded without any warning, in canter, bucked Laci off and bucked all around her as if she wanted to stomp her, scaring everyone in the arena and stable. We agreed (I wasn’t going to argue after that) on the basic issue: Mocha was not going to be my horse. She would have to be sold as potentially dangerous, a horse that bucked unexpectedly, but not every ride (and for some people that’s more challenge than a hard NO.) R- was very relieved that Laci had nixed the mare staying with us, and that I’d given in easily. Mocha was boarded where Laci worked, and after a month or three (can’t recall exactly) and several people trying her, Laci trailered her to meet a rancher she’d known in California, who was visiting in Texas, and he bought her. I kept taking lessons, and Laci and I started talking about my next horse. I’ll spare you the long story of the sequence of horses found unsuitable for one reason or another, mostly my fault for wanting “more horse” than I needed at that stage of my recovery.
Then Laci called me up one day some months after Tigger’s attempt (as a 14.3 hand Arabian) to jump a fence a little over 5 feet tall, resulting in a near fatal injury and serious injuries that have taken a couple of years to come close to being healed. “I think I’ve found you a really good horse,” she said, and pointed me to a page in EquineNow (vast horse-sale/horse hunt website.) The horse was nearby (relatively: this is Texas, and under 100 miles is “near.”) The ad said “5 year old, 15 hands, 1300 pounds” and the reality was Ragtime, right around 14 hands, 800 pounds, and probably only 2.5 to 3 years old by his shape at the time. And a lovely, calm, disposition that Tigger took to right away as pal, buddy, and subordinate he could boss around. And here we are, with a horse that probably (Laci said today, looking at his teeth) is NOW 5 years old, a little taller, a little longer in the back (less coltish) and more developed. She thinks he IS a little wider in the chest, and his hind legs are less bowed. And that he’s showing muscling up in the right places.And perfect for what I need now.
Rags early in his “outside the fence” experience. Sometime in the fall of 2020, I think. I was considerably heavier than I am now
Laci came over to do an assessment of my progress as a rider, and as a partner for Rags…and an assessment of his development. Since R-, though a great help with the horses, is not a horse person, and really doesn’t like my asking him the questions one asks a riding partner or trainer, this is what I’ve needed since putting Rags back into work in December. She brought a friend along, whose daughter has taken lessons with her. Nice to have more eyes on the ground, and helpful ones. Laci held Rags while I mounted, and for the third day I was able to swing my leg all the way over–even easier this time. Out we went into the Near Meadow, where given Rags’ walking speed I asked them to take the straight route over the rock crossing and I took Rags over the grassy dip because I wanted Laci to watch him trot under saddle. Trotted him back to the east mowed path up to the Dry Woods, and then we all went up that route, with Rags and me going ahead, so Laci could check that I was staying in the middle of him, and also take a look at his gait, how he was moving. We went up to Fox Pavilion; Rags got scared at something (stopped, head up, ears stiff) but Laci came up beside us and steadied him through. We came back down the west side of the Dry Woods and thence back down the west trail to the Near Meadow. Tigger kept neighing and galloping back and forth, and Rags got all bothered again, but we made it back in good time.
I have *assignments* for the next couple of weeks. We’re getting rain mid-to-late week (and maybe earlier) so if it rains I’m not doing that (spring rains here usually involve T&L, thunder & lightning. Nopety nope. Plus the gluey clay mud we get and the sometimes flash floods. Nopety nope nope NOPE.) But we should make it some days. And the validation of what I’ve done with him so far is SO encouraging. 10 minutes a ride of pole work (ground poles laid in patterns, to walk over, both on the ground and raised maybe 4-6 inches…the thickness of a jump block lying flat.) Walking over them first, then starting trot work over them one at a time. Have I mentioned that the poles I’m using, PVC, have holes along one side so they “sing” when the wind blows across the holes? They were singing this afternoon as the wind grew stronger. Sounds weird. Horses are now used to it, I think.
After she and C- left, I got cramps in my right leg (SIGH) but they’re gone now, hopefully for all night. Time to go put out night hay in a few minutes.
Upper: Rags’ mischief face, spring 2020
Lower: Rags & Tigger resting in sun after a cold spell, winter.
Thank you for sharing. I really appreciate your stories and I’m so glad that Mocha is off behaving with someone else and that you have Tigger and Rags. Also, good to hear that Laci is still around. Hope you don’t have more cramps and that progress continues.
Mocha’s new owners kindly sent me pictures of her on their ranch, on trail rides and working cattle and in a cattle sorting contest. I’m glad she’s where she belongs.
And Rags is definitely where *he* belongs. I forgot to ask Laci if she took any pictures with her camera yesterday. I’ll put a pic of his mischievous Hay Bandit face in the post itself.
I am so pleased for you, such valedation is so encouraging isn’t it?
I sympathise about the clay mud, we are on our third successive storm in a week, Dudley, Eunice and Franklin have dropped a lot of water on us, as well as the odd pile of hail. Our clay soil is sodden and water is pooling on the surface – our garden is flat so it doesn’t drain much or even at all.
And I sympathize with your water + soil problems, too. Clay soil that’s gotten to the “pooling on top” stage is just plain depressing. There’s nothing you can do to it when it’s like that unless it’s on a slope, and even then you’re just flooding your down-slope neighbors.
Wish we had a giant pipeline so you could send us some of your water, so little rain here in the past year that we have sand, sand, and more sand. This time last year, the yard across the street at the church was full of wild mustard, this year, it’s just sand. Thanks for sharing your story of validation, it’s encouraging to be reminded that hard work pays off. Elizabeth, I need to thank you again for the encouragement I’ve gained from reading your writing all these years. Since November, it’s been a difficult few months. I remind myself constantly that Master Oakhollow told Paks, “Courage is keeping on.”
I wish I could send you some. We haven’t had a normal amount, but we’ve had enough to keep some things alive. Wish that included the creek. I’m sorry it’s been more difficult than usual for you, but I’m not prying for details…just offering sympathy. My mother survived a lot more than I’ve had to face by keeping on. She harped a lot on the need to just dig in and do what needs doing. I was not enthusiastic about that, growing up, and I’m not a good housekeeper now…but I see the utility now, of things I thought were just make-work or punishment.
So glad you’re recovering and riding as you’d hoped.
Last week I was working at day job and also wrote on a story two workday evenings. I too am (slowly) recovering.