Back to the Great Outdoors

Since the Grey Horse was coated in mud today with no hope of getting him in a rideable condition AND riding during my lunch hour, I decided to take Ace outside for a walkabout. I didn't even bother with a chain over his nose. I just snapped a rope on him, grabbed the Whapper and headed out. Mom was putting Face-Off back in the barn from the outdoor arena. This got Ace all charged up. He's very good about staying "with" me even though you and I both know that if he wanted to he could just take off and leave me standing there. That's the important part of handling horses.... keeping them from realising that they can leave whenever they want. I was also having visions of him reaching over and picking me up by my arm. But thanks to the Whapper as both a chew toy and a horse-warding-off-device all was well. So now I have 600 pounds of dynamite rocketing around on the end of a rope, an open gate, and an empty arena. What would you do? Yup, put the horse in the fence and let go. So that's just what I did.

Ace had a ball. It has been a long time since he was up in the arena. He was a little anxious about being that far from the barn, but he does go out in the back pasture by himself so he more accustomed to being out in the open alone. He trit-trotted around a little, but really he wanted me to play with him, and I did a little. I didn't want him to just run around like a mad man though. He remembered his "whoa-stand" lesson from last week, and I could call him over and he would dance up to me and stand while I talked to him and calmed him. He did get up some good speed, but the problem with that is it was slippery near the gate, and horses never factor in lack of friction when figuring out when and how hard to apply the brakes.

So we got a few pictures of him showing off, and one of us going for a walk using the Whapper instead of a rope. If I could get him to focus a little better, I'm sure I could teach him to play Fetch.

Before going back to the barn we spent a few minutes walking circles in the yard while he calmed down. Pretty soon he was investigating things and thinking about where he was instead of where he was not (the barn).

Then we stopped off at the hitching rail to tie for a few minutes.

And back to the barn for lunch.

"Whoop-Trot" and "Whoa-Stand"

Today was farrier day, and I decided that the farrier would probably benefit from Ace running off some steam. So, while we were waiting, Ace learned the first two most important commands that a Saddlebred knows. And they are "Whoop-Trot" and "Whoa-Stand".

"Whoop-Trot" is for keeping the horse in his trot. Good for when the horse is breaking into a canter or into a rack. Basically anytime he's about to "come off his feet" from a trot. "Whoa-Stand" is universal.

Ace was already in the arena/turnout when I got there. So, I just ran him around a little. Actually, he needed no encouragement. He galloped around and around and in and out the doors for about 10 minutes until he was sweaty and breathless. Now, the key to horse training (and I forget who I'm quoting) is "to see what a horse is about to do, and tell him to do it. Then he thinks you made him do it." I started with "Whoop-Trot" when he was getting tired. It's basically just a soothing command.

After he was trotting this way and that for me instead of galloping, we moved on to "Whoa" and "Stand" This he caught on to quicker than I expected. He let me come up to him, and only challenged me with a playful rear a couple of times. When this faux pas is committed, I simply snap him behind the elbow with the whip and send him out again. Shortly he was waiting expectantly for me to approach him. His happy, eager face was a reward in itself, and he let me handle his head without biting, and move to his shoulder.

Then he learned "Stand" which means "front and center, no biting, we're not going to wrestle." A few raps on the nose with the rubber end of the whip and he was standing quietly (not reaching to bite) while I walked around him and petted him from both sides, and stood with him. He needs to learn to stand solid for me to approach him if we are to move on to long lines and ground driving. A lot of adjustments could need to be made, and he needs to stand patiently until he is asked to move. This he passed with flying colors.

He was very interested in this new program. So much so that when the lunch lady (Mom) came to the barn, he remained focused on me and happy in his work. The farrier was running late, so I ended up heading back to the office before he got there, but Mom emailed the following report:

...As for Acey's manners, he gets an A plus, plus, plus from me. He stood the whole time and never had to be leaned up to the wall. He held the whapper stick in his mouth. It is very flat in the middle now, really! Running some steam off for him first was a great help to us all!

The boy is an Ace in cross ties (no pun intended!).

Happy Happy Birthday Baby

Ace is 1 year old today, and proud of it.

14.3hh and 640 pounds.

And this is how we use the whapper stick now. As long as it's in his mouth, he isn't chewing on anything (or anyone) that he's not supposed to be chewing on.

Pictures

I know it's been two months since we've seen a photo of Ace. One reason is that it has been miserably cold. Another reason is that while I've taken pictures of Ace, they either show him in a blurred cloud of dust, over exposed in snow or you get a close up of the inside of his nostrils. He loves the Flashbox. It's sooooo interesting.

So we snapped a couple pics today in the cross ties just to document his development and because he was standing still. Now, for all the times I've made him out to be the Devil Child, he does have his well behaved moments. For instance, I've been spending a lot of time on his tail getting him to stop rubbing. I am no longer concerned that he is wormy. His tailbone itches. So, I flip it up over his back and scrub with a hot wet towel until it's literally squeaky clean. He likes this. Then I spray the hair side with my concoction.

He has never once offered to kick during tail time. However, touch his flanks or hamstring...ka-pow. If the camera had clicked one thousandth of a second later you would have seen the range of motion he has with his hind leg. It's more of a reflex than anything, and you just have to be aware of it. I don't feel any more wary of walking behind him than my other horses. However, I don't reach under him.

A Family History of Bay Colts

In a recent post I mentioned Ace's great grand sire Georgetown and that my first Saddlebred training project was a horse we bred by that stallion. I'll go into a little family Saddlebred history for you, since the winter is long and not much else is happening.


Long before I got the bright idea to raise a foal, my mother and her mother before her had been trying their hand at breeding Saddlebreds.

Gramma with Saddlebred Broodmare

To their credit they have 7 purebred Saddlebreds, and 5 half Saddlebred (half Arabian). It all started before I was old enough to walk with a mare named Anacacho Megan. Mom and Dad (and little me) were living in Shelbyville, KY next to my father's parent's house. Mom needed a horse. Who wouldn't? And in that area, Saddlebreds were plentiful. She went to a dispersal sale at Gwinn Island Stock Farm where George Gwinn had bred and owned more champion Saddlebreds than I've probably ever laid eyes on. Among the horses being dispersed was a three year old gaited mare who Mom thought was the most beautiful horse she'd ever seen.

Anacacho Megan at 3 yrs old in front of the tobacco barn

George Gwinn in his office with photos of a small percentage of the champions he owned.

So, Mom bid on and bought this mare. She was very green and had been rushed a little to get her ready for the sale. Still, she was a beautiful horse and very suitable to live in my PaPaw's tobacco barn and be ridden up and down the lane by a housewife. She did send her to Don Harris Stables for a little work, but mostly she was a personal horse. Before Mom and Dad moved back to New York, Megan was bred to Starheart Victory.

SV was standing at stud at a farm nearby and just beginning to make a name for himself. He went on to the top end of Saddle and Bridle's stallion ratings for the rest of his life.

The filly born from the breeding to Starheart Victory was named Starheart's Hot Slippers. As a two year old, Gramma sent her to nearby Terrace Farms to be trained in preparation to sell. She was shown a little. I remember traveling to Syracuse to watch her shown at the International. I was four years old that time.

Gramma and "Foxy" (Starheart's Hot Slippers) as a two yr old

Foxy as a four year old

Foxy continued in training, and in the mean time, Megan was bred to the stallion Terrace Farms was standing named Spanish Moss. "Moss" was a lovely bay stallion by the great Beau Fortune and out of a daughter of Leatherwood Genius. He was owned by Dave Scanlon. I suppose it's no coincidence that Dave now owns Ace's sire "Clint". Megan was bred to Moss three times and produced three identical bay foals.

Spanish Masterpiece a.k.a Flash as a yearling

After a year or two Gramma wasn't satisfied with the efforts to sell Foxy so she was sent to Kentucky to the trainer who had been the colt man at Don Harris's and had worked her dam Megan. In Kentucky, he could hopefully sell her quicker. He did find a buyer, but I remember her being there for a couple of summers when I was around 8 years old, and one of the highlights of our family vacations to Kentucky was for me to go to the fairgrounds where she was stabled and jog around pretending to be a fancy show rider.

When Foxy was sold, one of the terms of the sale was that Gramma would get her first foal. Gramma told the trainer she trusted him to choose the stallion. His choice was Georgetown who he said would be great some day. Unfortunately, Georgetown never had that chance. He was lost in a fire only a couple of years later.

The resulting foal was a little bay colt. Foxy was being boarded at a farm where she was the lowest mare on the totem pole. Within two months, the foal and the sparse grass in the field had dragged Foxy down to where her owner was suddenly concerned that she could die. The foal was abruptly weaned, and Foxy was nursed back to health. When we went down for vacation later that summer, we picked up the forlorn little five month colt who had been shut in a stall until then. When Mom went in the stall to catch him, the farm owner said "Watch out, he'll kick ya." He was one scared little guy. It took two men to turn him around and shove him backwards up the trailer ramp. Dad screwed a piece of plywood over the open trailer back, and we headed for NY.

Gramma named him The Yorker. Actually, we put down three other name choices, but all of them were taken. I remember that because his grand sire was Yorktown, they all had to do with our home town Jamestown New York. Back then there was no way to log into the registry data base and check whether a name was available or not. The registry picked The Yorker. Gramma soon had "Yorkie" straightened out, but he was still rather nervous and reactive and remained so for the entire time we owned him.

When he was three years old, Gramma sent him to a local dressage trainer where she knew he would be treated gently and slowly. He was there a couple of months. When he was ready to go home, I went and took a couple of lessons on him. He was just green broke to walk and trot but he was willing. I was, at that time, 15 years old.

We took him home, and I lunged him about weekly, and rode him now and then, but we really didn't do much with him. When he was four, I was 16 and had a "real" Saddlebred show horse, and decided that it was time I had a second one. So I began working with him. Before long I had him in a double bridle and was able to ride him outside of the paddock (we had no actual "arena") and up and down the road. The following year I took him to the local county fair which had a nice Saddlebred show. There were 9 horses in the Show Pleasure class. I don't remember what ribbon I got in the first class, but when I brought him back for the Championship class, we won. His apprehension was gone, and I remember weaving in and out of the heavy traffic at a smooth strong trot.

I showed him for a couple more years, on and off. He turned out to be a nice horse. Here he is at age 8 just before we sold him.

Mostly I rode him around home. He made a very nice road hack. Once we even had a match race with an Amish buggy. I remember turning off to our road home, and seeing the Amish man hanging out the side of the buggy to look back at my horse. I tried showing him western, but he thought a show ring was good for only one thing, and that was trotting.



He did look pretty fancy under western tack though. Now I have an even prettier bay colt to develop. York was by the same sire as Ace's sire Clint's dam was by. It will be interesting to see what he turns into.

A Very Good Day

This has been a very stressful week. It all started last Saturday morning when I opened an email from our vet and read the insulin results for my Grey Horse and Mom's gelding. Grey had a high reading (last year's was normal) and Face-Off was off the charts at a whopping 157 (the top reading on the normal scale is 40). This proved what we knew to be true. Face-Off was in the middle of a medical emergency, teetering on the edge of full blown founder. He needed a crash diet to bring his insulin level down.



To drive the point home, his half brother Hairy, who had foundered several weeks earlier, was failing fast. Hairy, never more than pasture sound for most of his adult life, had battled his sore feet cheerfully for several weeks. As he worsened, Mom made the tough decision to euthanize him in the coming week. We were both sort of wondering if we were making the right decision. Hairy made it for us on Sunday when he opted not to get up for breakfast. The arrangements were moved up to that afternoon, and Hairy lay in his stall all day on heavy pain killers, eating every forbidden treat Mom could find him. He never got up until Mom asked him to make the effort and walk to his grave where he was peacefully laid to rest in the sunshine while eating his fill of sweet feed. Here is my favorite of Hairy's baby pictures. He was the last baby we raised and lived to be 10 years old. He never left the farm, and was pampered his whole life. As you can see, even as a baby he was a little chub.



The fear that Face-Off was soon to suffer the same fate sent us both into a whirlwind of soaking hay, and researching diet options. Face-Off's energy level was very low and the foot soreness, typical of an Insulin Resistant horse, was worsening. Our sole focus all week was Face-Off and Grey and finding them a healthier diet. One afternoon I returned to my office and realised I hadn't even said "Hello" to Copy. Ace, whose hormones have been on red alert, was an added handful. Mom declared him officially "not a project for a beginner".



But today was a good day. Mom has worked out a system for soaking the hay. We have learned a lot and made some other diet changes. We have the supplies to test our hay for Carbohydrate and Sugar levels, and everyone is feeling better. Face-Off even trotted to the gate today. He hasn't felt good enough to trot in well over a month.



I had a nice ride in our little indoor. Grey proved again that he has matured into a well trained and perfectly behaved mount. I even took my stirrups up and did five minutes of trotting without them. I haven't done that in ages, and it proves that these past weeks at the gym are paying off.



Ace was acting starved for positive human interaction. A result of five rounds with the whapper stick the other day? Probably not. I was out in the arena sifting through the footing for the upteenth time searching for my expensive Blocker Tie Ring that Ace had removed from the eyebolt on the wall, and he was shadowing me, giving me no peace. He obviously wanted to play Wild Stallion, and I appeared to be the most likely partner. I did find my Ring, which is great because the darn things are expensive, and that put me in an even better mood. I decided to teach Ace something constructive.



I went and got the longe whip and introduced the idea of free longing. Ace wanted to stop at the gate each time and switch directions at will. I kept him to a more structured program. With the help of some bits of carrots I also tried the concept of "Whoa", which was not as well received. But he did stop a few times and let me come up and stand beside him. I had left the back door open and he finally decided he had had enough of my "rules" and exited.



With his excess energy run off, I thought it would be a good time to groom him. I brought him in and put him on crossties, which I haven't done since just after Thanksgiving. He stood like a rock, chewing happily on the snap the whole time. He let me wash under his tail and pick out all four feet. He did fling his hind feet around a bit, but not too bad, and all he got was a verbal correction.

While most people are lamenting the disappearance of their cute, fuzzy weanlings and the arrival of shaggy, pot bellied, pencil necked yearlings, I am admiring my perfect miniature replica of a beautiful horse. Ace is nicely proportioned and fit. His coat is thick but short like plush velvet. Just a little brushing brought out a healthy gleam that made him look as if he had been blanketed all winter. After his grooming, we went for a little walk around the arena. All the naughty antics of last week were noticeably absent. Ace is acting like a normal, reasonable youngster instead of the Devil incarnate. It was a very pleasant change.

Too big for his halter, AND his britches

Ace is on the verge of outgrowing his halter. The weanling one rubs in spots, but still basically fits. The yearling one is a touch too big, especially around the throat. As I was trying them on today, something I've done periodically, Ace suddenly also outgrew his britches.

He was good for quite a while. I sprayed Listerine on his tail and even though it stung a bit, all he did was clamp it. I brushed his mane, and touched his ears. He's a good boy now and then, believe it or not. Then I wanted to try the yearling halter on. I took the smaller one off, put the bigger one on. Took that off, made an adjustment. Put it back on. Decided it was too big in the throat to leave on. Took it off, and when I went to put the small one back on, we had our altercation.



Since he is very mouthy, one of his favorite games is to grab the chin strap as you are putting the halter on, and refuse to let go. I was having little luck prying it out of the iron grip of his jaws (he gets better and more determined at this all the time). We were in his stall, and he was standing against the wall and he kept getting taller and taller and was looking down sideways at me with a glint in his eye. The "Hairy Eyeball". As I struggled and fussed at him, he began to get a little shovey, and his body language said loud and clear "I'm winning this little battle, perhaps I should knock you over, tap dance on your backside and finish you off". He wasn't rearing, but he was hovering above me, and he wasn't striking, but he had a front leg poised in mid-air. He started to push me with his shoulder....



Mom (who has always got my back) said from the doorway, do you need the whapper stick? "Yup", while continuing to pry, I quietly reached behind me and grabbed the stick as she handed it to me. You see, I'm quiet around horses. Mom likes to beller her disapproval. I speak softly and carry a big stick. Well, actually it is quite short, but it's loud. Ace (still clamped on the halter) whipped his neck at me and I reached my limit. "I've had it with you, you little snot!" WHAP on the side. In shock, Ace dropped the halter and spun into the corner. Then his body language said "would you like both barrels or would one be enough?"



I take a dim view of horses turning their butt to me in the stall. It's one thing if they are afraid and defensive, then I am reassuring. But when they're mad and consider retaliation, it's time to learn the "face me" rule. WHAPWHAPWHAP on his butt. The hollow, lightweight Whapper stick makes a lovely sound. Oh, you should hear it! Ace's eyes got real big and he spun to face me. "Good boy", I reached out my hand in an offer of friendship, and he stepped forward, ears up ready to make peace. His expression clearly said "what's gotten into you?"

I tried to move him over to the wall again and get to his left side. Nuthin doin. Especially without a halter on. WHAPWHAPWHAP on his butt. Again he faced me with the shocked and innocent look. "Sorry Ace, I know you don't "get" it, but you'll figure it out pretty quick Mr. Smarty Pants." Again with the butt. It took 4 or 5 tries before he would move over to the wall again. I quickly moved to his side, put my arm over him and patted him so he knew he had finally done the right thing.

I positioned the halter and swiftly and deftly slipped it over his muzzle, as he frantically grabbed for it, and buckled it behind his ear. So... has Ace learned to behave or have I learned to put the halter on quicker ?