All of a sudden, it's been over a week since my last post.  Whoopsie daisy.  (Tonight's craft beer:  Abita bourbon something coffee something something.)

Okay, so a recap of the things that have happened since last I wrote:

Trail buddy and I took the beginner rider on her first trail ride off the property last Sunday. The fifteen or twenty minutes spent driving to the hunt club were devoted to quizzing her on the proper response to a horse spooking and a horse bolting.  We don't think about these things anymore, but I was taught, a million years ago, to ride at the level of the lowest rider.  So we talk about the things that can go wrong and how to salvage the situation.

Again, best freaking trail horse ever.

Unless we're about to cross a giant puddle, in which case the Archer needs a lead.

The trail ride went very well.  When was the last time you taught someone to trot in the woods?  Just think about it.  No rails, no trainer, just a few women in the woods on horses.

Because it was so fucking hot and we went about seven miles again, I didn't jump Ox afterwards.  Everyone deserves a break.

Later that day, my SIL and two nephews came to town and spent the night with us.  Do you know the best way to determine if someone is allergic to cats?  Have them spend the night with a cat hoarder.  But, for all the coughing and sneezing, it was a great visit.  Eventually, both the little christian nephews will be introduced to Harry Potter.  Give me time.

Someone is horrified by the wind in the trees.

But at least he comes to me now!  Carrots, ftw.

Can we talk about how little my saddle pad looks on him?

Archie had a farrier visit recently.  He kept his silicone in and shoe on for a whopping three weeks and still magically developed thrush in that right front, so we didn't do pour-ins this time.  It saved me seventy-five dollars, which I in turn used to pay the BM's kid who cleaned all my tack as a fund raiser for world.  She loved the Higher Standards soap and conditioner.

Note to self:  if you stick your thrush-covered finger in your farrier's face as he holds up your horse's hoof, he is liable to stick his hoof knife in yours.  Just an FYI. Trail buddy has been loaning me out Thrush Buster because guess who doesn't keep that shit on hand.

Learned recently that the kid who broke Ox decided to tie a barrel to him.  Just... wtf.  So barrels are still horrifying.

But showers are amazing.

Archie's innocent face.  That fucker.

And then Ox ate Archie.  The big orange booty doesn't play.

Not much else has been going on.  Horses, gym, work, husband.  Rinse and repeat.  Lots of stuff on the horizon!

I had my first real jump school on Ox yesterday.  We're turning it into part two of our Sunday traditions.  Trail ride and then I hop on the big orange booty and the trail buddy teaches me how to jump again.  Because, even if we think I might have known at one point, I definitely don't know now.

"THAT JUMP IS FUCKING HUGE." And we still got over it. Saintly cow horse.

So here's one of the bigger issues I'm having, ignoring the fact that my eq sucks and I'm doing everything possible to make every fence infinitely harder for the pony:  he chips.  He has been trained to chip.  I know in the ideal situation, it wouldn't be long or short and the horse wouldn't be buried at the base of the fence and then saving both our asses as he gives some monumental effort to fling us over.  It would be the sweet spot and easily within the canter stride and I wouldn't feel like, dear god, we're going to die.


This is another place where I took the Bold Archer for granted.  Because he jumped how I liked and the spot was always the spot I wanted, without even asking.  Let's just remember for a second:


So, yeah, I know it's equestrian growing pains and practice makes perfect.  At least the horse will allow me to do all the steps necessary to get him tacked up without making a fuss.  Treats help.

Trail buddy had set up this course:


Big G's mom was there and offered to me me use her helmet camera, a Go Pro, so in addition to seeing me fumble, you can be with me as I fumble.  Worth it.

I was sort of taken aback by my first solo ride on Ox Wednesday night.  When I hopped on him Sunday and jumped him around, trail buddy was in the ring and giving advice.  She'd tacked him up and ridden him prior to me getting on him.  He was in the position of lesson pony, which is a position he's spent a lot of time in.

I try really, really hard not to share other people's stories on this blog, because being at the same barn as me isn't the same as consenting to having your story told.  But this requires just a tiny bit of vague history.

My trail buddy is a retired hunter/jumper A trainer.  She had a barn back where she came from.  She sold all of her ponies and moved south.  A student who bought a pony recently contacted her to see if she could babysit said pony for a couple months.  A couple months turned into several months.

Trail buddy invited me to hop on this new pony after our weekly trail ride and jump a little bit.  He just arrived earlier this week.

So, now, lemme officially introduce Ox, my half-lease.  :)

You read that right.  MY HALF LEASE!!!!!!!

Yeah, no.  I didn't take any better photos.  But I will!

It certainly wasn't planned.  Trail buddy said that I was welcome to hop on him and help get him conditioned and go on a few adventures.  But after she invited me to ride him, and I jumped him, the words sort of spilled out of my mouth and it made the most logical sense.  I need to ride this horse.  This horse is giving me a different set of wings than Archie can provide.  I never understood how people with horses could look at other horses, but I understand now.  Because I hopped on Ox,  trotted and cantered a few laps, cantered a couple crossrails, and then jumped 2'6" like it was nothing.


Here's what I know about his history:

He's the result of PMU.  His breeding is unknown.  A trainer that trail buddy knows bought a shipment of foals and Ox was one of those.  He went to a college for their equestrian program and the cowboy son of the trainer was dared to jump him 3'.  He soared over it like a natural and that cowboy transitioned into a jumper.  He's got a giant CT branded into his butt cheek and trail buddy likes to tell people that he's a Canadian Trakehner and giggle silently.  He's a chestnut with four socks and a blaze and feathers.  He's built like a brick shit house and incredibly wide but still comfortable.  He's somewhere around 15 years old.  He rode like he was around 16 hands, but he took the leg so well and felt so solid that I'm not even sure.  He has historically been able to jump 4 feet.  He's fox hunted.



Taking advantage of trail buddy's knowledge, she's agreed to supervise the first few rides on him.  This was my third time jumping since Archie's diagnosis in November.  I'm fugly as hell.  But with this guy. I can be brave and I can work on myself.

My plan is to ride Archie the same amount per week.  I'll add rides on Ox three times of week.  And hopefully still hop on Big G once or twice a week.  To quote Big G's mom:  a jumper, a gaited pony, and King Archie.  Does life get any better?