My spurs came in yesterday.  But not the new bellboots (trying Davis since the Archer ate the Centaurs) or the actual Smartpaks.  Weird.

I had to text L. Williams to see how the damn things went.

When I got to the barn, I spent a few minutes talking to BM's kid about the show they were at.  She's an amazing rider and she did really, really well at the show.  I joked with BM about the inevitable trophy room (I think she brought home four from this show alone).

Okay, so it might be time for new half-chaps.

While I was tacking up Archie and talking to BM, we both noticed at almost the exact same time that he was holding one eye partially shut.  It wasn't swollen and had no debris, so I'm not sure what was going on.  She advised putting a fly mask on him, so I did that before I left for the night.  I also cold hosed it after I rode.  He resumed normal eye function while we rode, but I wanted to be precautious.

Mah eyeball.

I made a joke that if I went flying, someone should try to catch me.  Because I figure that it's the first time Archie has probably felt spurs.  I've certainly never ridden him in them before (and we've always had an issue with "go", so maybe I'm an idiot), then he spent the two years out to pasture before I started working him.  And I highly doubt that the 4-H kids rode in spurs.  But I never did 4-H, so I have no idea, really.

BM gave me a very valuable tip:  roll the ankle.  I wasn't exactly planning on just jabbing him with the spurs, but it reinforced that I needed to offer the inside of my heel first and then poke him if he didn't respond.

We meandered at a walk for a few minutes and then I asked him for trot.  He ignored my squeezes and my clucks.  So I rolled my ankles.

I felt him feel the spur.  I don't know how to describe it otherwise.  His neck arched and he brought his body away from the pressure and he shot forward.  Of course, that shooting forward was short lived and I had to continue to push him.  I rolled my ankle a few more times during the ride, but he only had an active response one other time.

First one in the ring after a massive storm.

I asked for the right lead canter, but I didn't want to run him into it.  I kept contact, squeezed, nudged and finally poked him.  When I touched him with the outside spur, he immediately picked up the right lead.  Maybe a lack of pressure from me has been our problem.  Maybe my request hasn't been clear enough.

Itty bitty poker.

After all that, I took him on a little trail ride.  Hosed him down, hosed his eye, put on his fly mask, fly boots and fly spray, fed him his dinner and turned him out.  I was the last one at the barn and night was falling.  I truly felt in my element.

Grass.