Pony Fury

Gusto.  That’s the word I’ve been trying to think of to describe Acey’s approach to life.

She tears down the trail with abandon, dives into beet pulp like Scrooge McDuck into gold, and stretches a wriggling upper lip when scratched.  Fun and daring bubble around her.

But when Acey gets mad, her black eyes smoulder and roll.  She isn’t above sitting down and backing 100 feet with her muzzle in the air.  Impatient when tied, her hoof slashes graffiti in the earth.  Her spooks are brief but dramatic.

The pony tantrums are growing rarer with training, of course, but I imagine there will always be a part of her that reminds me of the old nursery rhyme:  When she was good, she was very, very good…and when she was bad, she was horrid!

Maybe I should call her Curly.

A $12 Experiment: Easyboot Back Countries with 12mm Pads

Yes, I tried it.  Yes, I know you aren’t supposed to.  Yes, it worked.

Those of you who are familiar with Easyboots know that the Gloves and their Back Country cousins (which use the same shell with a different gaiter) are supposed to be used without pads, though it is commonly observed that the 6mm pads work just fine.  The 12mm pads are intended for use with other boot styles whose fit isn’t as precise.

I wouldn’t have attempted to use 12mm pads in Acey’s BCs if I hadn’t ordered them by accident.  But, since I had them on hand and it didn’t seem worth the cost of shipping to return them, I figured it was worth a shot.  You’ll recall that because Acey is so tiny, even her 00 BCs are bigger on her than I’d like.  They’re probably a full size up from a nice, tight fit.

I’ve observed in the past that the 6mm pads crush quite a bit, and quickly.  I find that a single ride smashes them to practically nothing around the hoof wall.  This doesn’t seem to be a problem, as padding remains in the sole area, and I thought the crushing might come into play favorably in my 12mm pad experiment.

By the way, I’m not the first to try this.  Easycare rep Alayna Wiley offers this blog post on the subject; it didn’t work so well for her.  The boots twisted.

But what the heck.  I cut the medium-density, 12mm pads down to 00 size and stuffed them in Acey’s boots.  They certainly looked thick, coming up high enough to cover half of the heel screw.  Without overlarge boots and significant crushing, this would never work.

Overlarge boots?  Check.  Even with the thick pads, the BCs went on Acey’s feet easily.  I walked her around a bit to make sure they were seated, then double-checked the gaiter tightness.  So far, so good.

Now to crush the pads.  I saddled up and we hit the road for a few miles at a walk and bounding trot.  (It was windy and Acey was, er, more enthusiastic than absolutely necessary.)  I checked the boots frequently for twisting or other issues.  Nothing.  The only change seemed to be positive:  reduced “slop-and-clop” from the outsized boots.

Acey seemed to feel really, really good!  Even better than usual.  Was it the weather, or the pads?  Oh, and she was also a few millimeters taller. 

At the end of our ride, the boots remained perfectly in place.  I removed them to find the pads crushed down to where they looked about like brand-new (un-crushed) 6mm pads.  The screw in back was now fully exposed and the pad had settled down to consume less room all around.

Hmm.  This could work.

Now, I’m not advocating the use of 12mm pads in Gloves or Back Countries under normal circumstances.  I have yet to decide whether I’ll continue with them for Acey.  Further tests will tell us more.  But, it does seem that under peculiar circumstances such as ours, it’s at least a possiblity worth mentioning.

Power Pony

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This is the creature I plan to ride today.  (Wish me luck.)

Okay, so Acey doesn’t behave like that on the trail.  She does, however, bring an enormous amount of enthusiasm to her work.  She has the let’s-go-see-the-world! attitude that I’ve missed ever since Aaruba retired.  Her walk is a march, her trot is speedy and smooth, and her canter…oh, she has the most adorable canter.  Remember those little quarter-fed, mechanical horses outside grocery stores?  It’s like that, only 1,000 times cuter.

I took her out yesterday for a brief hack.  She’d already put in her 30 conditioning miles for the week and didn’t really need more (ha!), but there was a break in the weather and I wanted to test a hoofboot change.  We’d just walk a few miles.  Right?

Riiiiight.  Instead, Acey strapped on her jet packs and took me for a flying trot across the countryside.  Maybe I should have taken her to do the LD today at Tough Sucker, after all.

Actually, I gave that idea some serious thought yesterday morning.  It would have been a last-minute thing, but how hard is it to pack for an LD with the hold in camp?  As it turned out, I couldn’t get a farmsitter.  Which is okay, because it’s hard to stomach forking over $150 or so in ride fees and diesel to do what is basically a conditioning ride.

Which remindes me, y’all did see the blowup over on Ridecamp about Endurance vs LD and the need for new AERC members and the possiblity of shorter, introductory distances to draw more people to the sport?  Wow.  All I can say is that I totally agree with those who say that LD (let alone trail rides) isn’t endurance.  Of course it isn’t.  The thing is, I think most LD riders know that.  For various reasons ranging from physical limitations to personal interests to training requirements, some people want to do LDs.  Some want to take advantage of the opportunity on rare occasions, others want to have fun on the trail without the worries and strains of endurance-length rides.  And their fees inarguably subsidize the longer distances.  What’s not to like?  (Well, there’s the LD racing thing.  But that’s a post for another day.)  And I don’t know about you, but I still remember when 25 miles seemed amazingly, impossibly far to ride.  Sure, it doesn’t seem like much now, but it did then.

Anyway, the way Acey behaved yesterday, I rather wish we were saddling up for that 25 today!  We’ll probably do 14 or so miles right from the farm instead, then go climb some hills tomorrow.  No point in rushing.  (You hear that, Acey?)

Revved Up and Sitting Out

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Consolation is fit and frisky.  She could do 50 miles at Tough Sucker tomorrow.  I’d like to say that I’m throwing the last bits of gear in the trailer and heading out.  But I’m not.

The itch issue isn’t 100% resolved.  It seems to be resolving along her topline, but has moved down her sides.  I talked with her vet and he suggested treating it like a fungus, as these can present in myriad ways and this could just be a somewhat atypical case.  So, I’m slathering her with athlete’s foot cream and keeping an eye on her for a couple more days.

Even if that problem were taken care of, I think we’d sit this one out.  It doesn’t seem fair to ask Consolation for a 50 when we haven’t been able to go for some good rides to make sure she’s feeling perfect in other ways.  Her new Stonewall appears to fit beautifully, but we haven’t been able to give it a real test yet, so that’s another reason to wait.

Sigh.  I’m trying to remember that we’re still well ahead of where we were at this time last year.  And I’m (still) learning to take things as they come.  There will be more rides.

Coming Unscrewed

Acey wore her Easyboot Back Countries for another, brisk, 8-mile ride yesterday.  Having learned my lesson last time, I tightened all the screws that attach the gaiters to the shells. 

We had no problems at all with the boots during the ride, but I dismounted at home to discover that, once again, the front two screws (the “Power Strap” section) had come completely loose on the left front.  I’m amazed that we haven’t managed to lose a single screw or washer yet!

I know Easycare tests their products thoroughly, and they apparently haven’t encountered this issue — at least, not frequently enough that it required a manufacturing change.  I suspect Acey’s boots are being subjected to a greater-than-normal amount of vibration because they really are on the outside edge of the sizing flexiblity. 

My plan is to take Funder’s suggestion of applying some Loctite Threadlocker.  I was concerned about the idea at first because I didn’t want to preclude my ability to replace shells or gaiters, but Loctite’s website claims that the Threadlocker bond can be broken using hand tools.  I reckon it’s worth a try.

Consolation is Better!

She’s not 100%, mind you, but she is much improved.

As a test this evening, I saddled her and lunged her for 20 minutes (in 80-degree heat, to get her sweaty since that seems to make the itch worse), then took her out for a few miles’ hack.  She switched her tail a bit, and her trot was less than steady, but she didn’t feel the need for head-slinging and bucking every few strides.

Her back was still itchy, but nothing like it has been.  If (and it’s definitely still a big IF), this progress continues, we might be able to go to Tough Sucker II next weekend, after all.  Fingers crossed.

In other news, Acey and I had a nice ride in the hills today.  We took it fairly slowly and soaked up a couple hours’ worth of sunshine over our 11 miles.

(Whoa, that photo looks terrible on my screen.  I hope it looks better on yours!)

In Which Easyboot Back Countries Go Very Fast

Acey nearly got eaten yesterday.  By cows.

These were not ordinary cows.  Acey doesn’t mind ordinary cows.  These were Scary Weanling Cows in Crackling Brush.  They were another animal entirely.  Just ask Acey.

We were in the middle of a road test for her new Stonewall saddle and 00 Easyboot Back Country boots.  I decided not to haul out to the BLM land for the test, in case something went wrong and we had to cut our ride short.  Instead, we left from In the Night Farm and rode a loop that gave us plenty of opportunities to turn back if needed.

As it transpired, the saddle fit comfortably with almost no adjustment.  Custom built for Acey, this saddle is narrower than the old one and felt much more stable on Acey’s tiny frame.  I’m sure she found me easier to carry.  She certainly had plenty of energy and a free stride.

I forgot to take a photo of the new saddle on Acey, so here it is modeled by the lovely Ripple Effect.  Blessedly, Ripple’s back measurements are almost identical to Acey’s and the new saddle fits her nicely, too.

The boots are about as big as they could possibly be on Acey without crossing the line to ridiculous.  Outfitted as Gloves, the 00 shells would never stay on her feet (yes, I did try once).  As BC’s, they clung to her little feet through walks, trots, extended trots, canters…and a gallop.  Which leads me back to the cows.

We were six miles from home.  I’d dismounted to let a massive tractor roar by.  Acey scarcely looked at the tractor, but before I could get back on, something in the deadwood at the side of the road went *crack!*  She jumped.  Her eyes bulged.  We stared together into the brush.  And from it emerged…a young holstein.

Well.  That would have been okay, except that there wasn’t just one cow.  There was at least a score of them, all half-spooked and half-concealed by the crackling brush.  They moved like clumsy ghosts, in fits and starts, and Acey couldn’t get a clear look at any of them.  Her tiny ears positivly quivered, and I swear I could hear her heartbeat as I tried to lead her past the long gauntlet of terror.

That was working fine until one of the cows jumped a small ditch.  The sudden movement sent Acey right over the edge.  She bolted, and her biothane reins slipped right out of my hand.  (Incidentally, I’ve been having that problem with biothane reins.  On hot days, in sweaty hands, they get awfully slick if you actually need to keep a firm hold on them for any period of time.  Maybe I need to either wear gloves or go back to my cotton rope reins.)

Anyway, I had to laugh as I watched Acey’s little bay butt tearing away down the road.  I wasn’t terribly worried about her.  It was a little-traveled road with fences on both sides, and we were a good mile away from the next intersection.  There wasn’t much for a running horse to do but stop.  Eventually.

A nice guy in a farm truck happened to see the incident, and he saved me the quarter-mile walk to where Acey decided to stop on the shoulder, looking baffled.  I retrieved her easily and checked her boots.  Surely if they were going to come off from speed, that would have done it.

Both boots were still there.  Hooray!  However, as I handwalked her along waiting for her brain cells to reboot, I noticed that the near-side gaiter was shifting up and down.  Further inspection revealed that the two screws in front (the “Power Strap” portion) had come loose.  They were still there, but no longer attached to the shell.  Only the triple-velcro attachment at the back of the boot had kept the gaiter (and probably the shell, too) from soaring off into the wild yonder.

In all fairness, Easycare’s instructions do say to check the screws before every ride.  This is not something I usually do (bad me!), and considering these were brand-new boots, it didn’t occur to me.  I swore to mend my ways.  But promises weren’t going to save the present situation.

You’ll recall that I was riding in a new saddle.  With new saddlebags.  New saddlebags, that is, into which I had put nothing but my camera and a bottle of water.  I hadn’t transerred my usual assortment of “just in case” items including chapstick, sunscreen, Larabar, hoof pick, and multi-tool.  Guess which item I needed.

MacGyver time.  I explored my tack for a screwdriver substitute and came up empty.  No scraps along the roadside appeared to help, either.  Spinning the boot around the screw got one side attached, but that obviously wasn’t going to work for the other side.  I ended up using my thumbnail (ow) and got it tight enough to proceed.

We finished our ride with no further adventure.  Back home, I removed the saddle to find a nice, even sweat pattern and no ruffled hairs.  The off-side boot, though, now had a loose gaiter!  Hmm.

So about the boots:  Tighten the screws when you take them out of the box.  I’m guessing this is not a product problem — just user error.  I’ll check the screws before my next few rides and let you know if they come loose again.

Today, we’re off to test the new Stonewall on some steeper hills across the Oregon border.  I’ll pack my saddlebags properly before we go.

Scratch That

Well, I thought I had Consolation’s itching issue under control.  She certainly seemed normal when brushed and worked from the ground.  She still has no hives or bumps or scabs or leisons, just relatively thin hair over the affected area (not bald spots, but shorter and rougher haircoat).

And yet, yesterday’s ride revealed that she is clearly still very itchy — driven to distraction, in fact.  She seems to want to move out, but can’t bear to trot more than a few strides without slinging her head around as if to whack a horsefly, or nearly bucking.  She moves along with her back hunched up in discomfort  It gets worse as the ride progresses (and the area gets warmer under her tack?), but the skin does not appear to change.  The behavior continues whether I’m mounted or not.

Over the past month, I’ve tried anti-fungal shampoos, Listerine soaks, and livestock dust.  I’ve double-dosed with Ivermectin and removed the only new item in her diet (Strategy).  I’ve washed and triple-rinsed her tack and brushes.  She already gets flax as part of her Show N Go supplement.  She lives in the open air, has access to shelter, and is in a largely dry and sunny climate.  Her skin doesn’t seem dry.  I considered the season (estrous issues?) but she is obviously itchy, not just ouchy or grouchy.

I’ve scoured the internet for ideas and come up empty.  Nothing seems to match her symptoms.  I’m at the point of calling her vet again to see if he thinks a fungal culture or somesuch might be in order.  On the one hand, I hate to fork over a few hundred bucks for a farm visit and lab tests, but on the other hand, I hate watching more time and endurance rides go by without being able to participate!

In the meantime, I am trying to let gratitude outweigh frustration.  At least I have another horse to ride, and more beyond that to train, while we get this resolved.

But still, please please please, can’t we find a solution quickly?

Don’t Think (Just Do)

Twelve years ago, when I lived in an apartment in St. Louis and the only horses within 40 miles were the drafts that pulled the tourist carriages across the cobblestones of Laclede’s Landing, I wrote fiction.  If you’ve ever tried it, you know that novels are like romantic relationships:  Once you get past the beginning, when everything is new and exciting, things get complicated.  Characters rarely blossom as you intended.  Storylines fizzle.  Plots sag.  Doubts overwhelm.  You develop a new understanding of the term “writers’ block.”  This is why many people start novels, and few finish them.

I used to write for two hours per day, five days per week.  My two hours began at 3:30 a.m., when I’d creep out of bed in the blackness and shut myself inside a coat closet I’d outfitted with a desk and computer and warming plate for my coffee.   It was easy to be motivated when I was starting a book.  I’d tap away in the silence, neurons bursting like fireworks in my brain, never wishing I could be sleeping instead.

Then came the middle of the book.  “The muddle in the middle,” it’s often called.  That messy quagmire in which so many writers drown.  Getting up a 0′dark:30 was harder, then.  It was easy to look for excuses.  If I gave my sleep-clouded mind half a chance, it would come up with some good reason to hit snooze that day.  My throat is a bit sore, I’d better sleep.  I have a big meeting at work later, I’d better sleep.  Yesterday’s fight with my spouse was stressful, I’d better sleep.

There’s always a reason not to chip away at a big project, isn’t there?  It’s only one day.  One missed step.  I’ll get back on track tomorrow.

The problem isn’t just that one day tends to become many.  It’s also that we can never get that day back.  And like it or not, we only have so many days.  Our horses have even fewer.  If we have goals, we need to move toward them.  Actively.  Intentionally.  Today.

If you want to ride endurance, you must spend hours in the saddle.  If you want to train that colt, you must go outside in the cold.  If you want to improve in your discipline, you must practice.  Not later.  Now.

That is why I developed a habit:  The moment my alarm went off at 3:25 a.m., I started a tape recorder in my brain.  Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think… Get up.  Don’t think.  Pull on warm clothes.  Don’t think.  Start coffee maker.  Don’t think.  Open computer file.  NOW think…about the task at hand, because the battle is won.

I did that for years.  I finished books.  Later, I used the same technique to get myself out the door to train for a half-marathon.  I finished the race.

Now, I need to get Ripple going under saddle.  She is ready — open minded, energetic, and curious as a monkey.  I should have had her out on trails last year.  But I had a lot going on.  There was wind.  The round corral was slick.  I needed to ride Consolation.  I needed to ride Acey.  I needed to work out.  I needed an evening off.

Not good enough.  It’s time to get out my mantra again.

Don’t think.  Just do.

Itchy Itchy, Scratchy Scratchy…

Ha ha!  Now you have the Calamine song in your head.

(Please tell me I’m not the only one who remembers that from summer camp.)

Remember when I mentioned that weekend of rides during which Consolation’s behavior was quite unreasonable, ranging from balking to bucking, when she couldn’t go more than a few steps without slinging her head or changing gaits?  I noted her extreme itchiness on her back under the saddle area.

This was more than just an “I’m shedding” itch.  More even than an “I’m shedding and I’m a mare and it’s spring” itch.  This was a “GET OFF ME BEFORE I GO INSANE” itch.

Yes, your majesty.  Right away, your majesty.

The itchiness was only one of several issues, some of which required waiting to ride again until her new saddle arrives.  (Update:  I got an email from Stonewall this morning — it’s on its way!  Hooray!)  But a few weeks off didn’t cure the itch.  I thought it did, at first, because bareback ride #1 went well…and then came bareback ride #2.  It was a warmer, sweatier day, and we’d gone less than a mile before her agitation resumed. She was clearly uncomfortable, and I ended up leading her home.

Time to investigate more thoroughly.  I found no sign of pain, but boy, did she ITCH!  Her withers were the worst, but much of her back was likewise affected.  She was mostly shed out, but I took a shedding blade to her for investigatory purposes.  Sure enough, it raked up evidence of dirty, oily skin flakes.  No apparent mites.  No sores or scabs or bumps.  No clumps of lost hair.  Just itching and oily, shedding skin.

I scoured my vet books and the web for a probably cause.  Nothing matched her symptoms exactly.  The closest possibilities seemed unlikely due to our dry environmental conditions or other factors.  So, I decided to start with the old, cowboy remedy:  Listerine.  (Don’t worry, Ironman.  I bought you a new bottle.)

After another, thorough brushing, I soaked the affected area with a 30:70 solution of mineral oil and generic “Listerine” (the original, amber-colored variety), gently rubbed it in, and left it on.  The next afternoon was warm enough for a partial bath — thank goodness, because the mineral oil had left Consolation just as messy as you’d expect it to — and I gave her a good scrubbing with Selson Blue and one of those rubber pet-shedding mitts.

While she was wet, I noticed a smattering of bumps across her withers that I’m almost positive weren’t there before.  They were much like mosquito bites — small, raised, and itchy, but not scabby or pus-filled.  They didn’t compress like hives.  I certainly hadn’t seen or felt them before.  Were they a reaction to the Listerine?  The shampoo?  Hmm…

A breeze came up, so I trotted Consolation in the round corral while she dried, then re-applied the Listerine, this time in a 50:50 dilution with water, and left it on.

Come morning, the bumps were gone.  The itch seemed somewhat diminished.  It’s was a bit hard to tell since most horses like their withers scratched, especially this time of year, but she seemed more comfortable.  The oily-flaky-skin issue seemed to have vanished.

I repeated the Listerine-and-water treatment.  The bumps did not resurface.  By evening, she seemed less itchy still.  Today, I treated her again, and she seems back to normal.

I love it when the cowboy stuff works.