Trusting my Training

Ever had one of those experiences that goes so beyond your wildest expectations that you can hardly believe it is happening and you drive home from 'just a trail ride' (HA! it is never 'just' anything) and can't stop grinning and you know people are driving past wondering about the goofy woman hauling her horse and you don't even care? I hope everyone feels like I do right now at least...No, as often as possible in your lives!

On Monday, July 1st, 2024 Cinder and I rode our softest ride so far. Almost nine miles in the shaded hills and forests of Waterloo's trails. Since she'd done so well last week with the neck rope, I wanted to give my Two Horse Tack halter/bridle headstall a try. Originally, I'd planned on playing around in my new arena before trying this out on the trails.

The best laid plans...

Knowing I needed to be driving to meet Rose around 9:15AM, I fed around 7AM. All was well. I packed my waters and lunch, had the trailer ready, grabbed the new biothane headstall, and headed out to get Cinder. My plan to do some Liberty work before leaving dashed to pieces when I saw Cinder. Somehow, in the short time between feeding and gathering, her left eye was red and inflamed, the lower lid visibly puffed away from her eye. WHAT in the world? I messaged Rose, and put our plans on hold in order to investigate. Cinder has had issues with goopy eyes in the past. Blocked tear ducts. Slimy eye goo. 

After opening the gate (I separate the horses for feeding), I ran inside for a tub of warm water and the vet supplied eye antibiotic I keep on hand for occasions such as this. I knew I was in a bit of a pickle when Cinder chose to walk away from me rather than join me in the arena. Usually, she's waiting at the gate. Cappy was super helpful in keeping Cinder split away from me as I approached. Was this a pain issue? A 'no thank you' thing? A 'Cappy says I should stay here with him' thing? No matter, her eye needed my attention. 

Using all my horse language skills, I released moments of frustration in good ribcage breathing, stayed calm and as relaxed as my eyeball worry allowed, and about twenty minutes later was standing beside Cinder in the pasture.

Then I did a stupid, wth was I thinking in hindsight thing. Instead of draping the blue binder twine around Cinder's neck and walking to the arena, for some reason (years of former learning is hard to overcome apparently) I 'haltered' her face with the thin blue twine, turned, and pulled (duh) for her to come with me. As soon as the unwarranted pressure hit her, Cinder jolted backwards. Ugh. I KNOW better! Apologizing profusely, I draped the twine loosely around her neck and asked her to move forward. 

Without a hitch, we traveled the length of the pasture into the arena. Focused totally on Cinder and her eye, I grabbed hold of the gate with my right hand to swing it shut behind as she entered. 

And did another stupid, wth was I thinking thing, as I realized Cappy had followed us into the arena when the gate THUMPED him soundly on his rump and he leapt inside. UGH! I imagined all my banked points leaving my horsey account, setting our training back, losing ground dearly gained by trust and time. Leaving the gate open, I led Cinder over to await Chad's arrival, hoping Cappy would forgive me and not be afraid of the arena in the future.

Once Cappy and Little Red were back in the pasture, the gate closed, and my breathing back to normal, I returned to Cinder. Her eye was no longer swollen. No longer red. It was still a bit goopy, so I carefully wiped her eyes with the warm water cloth, careful to note any tenderness. As quickly as it had happened, her eye was back to normal. Allergies? Bugs? No idea! I applied the ophthalmic ointment, asked her to halter, and loaded up for our ride. 

As I tacked up, chatting with Rose about my plans to use the bit free headgear, my friend was like...ummm...you're just going to ride her in that on the trails? Today? Yup. Have you ridden her in it before today? Nope. 

Truly, I had zero worries, no fear, no thoughts of 'run away' situations, because I know my horse, and I know what we've been working on and how we've been progressing. I really felt she was going to be happier and more responsive without the bit. I trusted our training. For the last year, my knowledge and skills have grown. During rides I have worked on staying off her face, using softer and softer cues, how my body moves and transfers information to her, and after last week's successful neck rope trial I was ready.

WHOO!!!! BEST RIDE EVER!!!!!!

Usually, the first leg of the ride out of Maute Road staging area is the most challenging for grass grabbing. I've really worked on cueing Cinder NOT to dive down before she fully lowers. In the bit, I feel her brace, locking the bit in her mouth is the best way I can describe how it feels. So, over the last months, wanting her to stay soft and biomechanically correct, I've improved our communication to decrease this behavior. Yesterday was just more of the same, a little pick up or jiggle of the reins when I felt her thinking about dropping hard for grass. No problems at all.

In fact, as the ride progressed Cinder became softer and softer as she must have realized the difference. Our transitions from walk to trot, increasing and decreasing her speed/direction were almost thought and accomplished. My joy grew with each hoof fall.

As Indy chose deer track sized trails (so many random trails in these hills that can confuse riders) we'd agreed to let him traverse for a change, we maneuvered downed trees, nasty thick spider webs (GROSS), overgrown vines, and more. Cinder loves challenging trails, and we moved as one through all of it.

As we came out of the deep, deep fast running creek, Cinder took the lead, moving down the trail with big energy, ears forward, and softer than ever. For anyone who's ever ridden with Indy, you know how hard it is for him to give up the lead; yet, he was calm behind Cinder, no pushy energy, an indication of how confidently Cinder was moving.

Back in the staging area, a bicyclist was enjoying the shade of the pavilion. We took advantage as he left to reintroduce Cinder to his bicycle, and had a lovely conversation about horse/bike interactions before he pedaled away. Finally, untacked and brushed, it was time to load for the drive home. Though we opted out of our usual sand pit roll to protect Cinder's eye from exposure, much to the horses' chagrin, it was the most perfect of rides.

Bit free. Soft. Communication extraordinaire. Almost nine miles, ridden in once unimaginable ways. Cinder has completely changed my journey, and I am still grinning this morning as I reflect.

Love this little Mustang mare more every single day!