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[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

LOSING YOUR COOL DOESN'T TEACH ANYTHING

Sometimes I feel like I’m just stating the obvious. In fact, I have been called “an overpriced teacher of common sense” (by a trainer who asked the farm to explain to me that SHE is the trainer there and that the main barn clients were off limits to me, so we know what place that, “commons sense” comment was coming from). Unfortunately, even the most common of sense things can get thrown to the wayside when our patience wears thin or we feel the pressure of an onlooker. I feel there are closet wig-outters and peer embarrassment triggered wig-outters.

Here are two examples:

The potential "closet wig-outter"

I stood with a farrier once, who had been asked to pull front shoes off of a horse. I had been meeting all of the people and the horse THAT day. The horse was not standing stock-still, but was really not being bad either. After maybe two shuffles of sidestepping the farrier, the man stood up and quietly, yet meant to be heard, “Good thing people are standing here, because I’d be taking care of you right now, otherwise.”

Now, as the onlooker, I’m a deer in the headlights. The threat could have been all show, tough guy stuff, or this is the farrier that strikes your horse in the ribs with his rasp for his moving.

The man otherwise seemed like a nice person, but the impression was definitely left. There’s a saying I heard when I was a young adult, “Your reputation is like your virginity, you only get one shot at it.”

An example of the on looker pressure, peer embarrassment wig-outter might be at a trailer loading display of wills… so it’s believed.

There is a woman and her friend struggling to get a horse back on the trailer at an off-farm ride. The owner might be less in tune with their horse to understand that he is afraid of something in the trailer or about the trailer or even about GETTING OFF the trailer. (you’d be surprised how many horses actually struggle with getting OFF and that’s why they won't get ON)

Now, the struggle has drawn the attention of others. The embarrassment has risen in the owners solarplexes. Their chest feels hot and they feel all the pressure of the audience. Stage fright at it’s best. What happens next is all too common…

PEOPLE START OFFERING TO HELP

All sorts of predator behaviors start to come out. People try to SCARE the horse on to the trailer, they beat the horse…they even get a broom and try to SWEEP the horse into the trailer. Tempers get risen, and the horse gets attacked by a gang of humans.

Do you know that your horse was trying to tell you something in this trailer example?

Do you know that if the people “helping” were believing that they were giving both the horse and the owner an impromptu lesson, that the only lesson that horse got out of this session was HUMANS ARE VICIOUS!

Impromptu lessons should look a bit more like this...

Yesterday my baby Tucker got his second trim ever. He was great for the front and hind on the one side, then I turned him around to offer the farrier access to the other side (we were standing at Mommy’s stall for support) but upon approach to the second hind foot, Tucker tried to run past me to escape. Well, more like run OVER me, but the “escape” is the part that most needs to be understood.

Tucker has had this strange man grabbing and HOLDING his feet only ONCE BEFORE and months ago… He doesn’t have a clue what is going on, at the same time it seems like he should know this.

The panic was not at all inappropriate, he was scared. There is a whole, “Different eye different horse” thing going on as well… but that’s another topic.

Now, what I love about my farrier is that he just steps back. He allows me to HELP my horse. His body language doesn’t scream, “Let me show him.” He understands the value of the impromptu lesson for Tucker.

At first I tried to just circle him back to the spot, and my farrier attempted to approach again. Nope, same FEAR response. Again I tried to circle back and again he plowed me over. If I did the same correction ONE MORE TIME, I would have created a pattern (Another topic worth discussing) so I knew I needed a different explanation for Tucker to understand what is being asked of him.

Even with the perfect potential for someone to lose their cool, or take getting run over personal, this was a teaching moment and needed to be treated as such.

I stopped circling him back and instead asked him to THINK about something else he understands as something he was “taught”.

Sometimes that’s all it takes, is to connect them to another “lesson” they have learned, to get them into a mode of trusting in the lesson at hand.

So, I asked him to back up by a cue, not by just muscling him back. The first KNOWING step he took backwards, I paused to let him know that he was right. Then the next encouraged step back, he was given another pause. The third, forth and fifth steps he took with KNOWING and stood. When the farrier approached that next time, he was in a LEARNING frame of mind. Then as he was having his foot lifted, he was given the same praise he had grown to understand when he is learning something new.

Tucker didn’t even budge another inch for the rest of his mani-pedi!

Now, I could have wigged out and even felt pressure to get this horse to stand still, but as an Early Development Educator of these precious babies, I took the opportunity to EDUCATE him. Had I wigged out, I would have scared him about the procedure, the farrier and MOST OF ALL me!

The lesson he would have learned, had I wigged out, was “Humans are mean and unsupportive when I need them the most to make me feel safe.” 

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

*MAKING FIXING A PATTERN FUN*

As frustrating as it can be to have your horse repeatedly do something that you didn't think you asked for, it can be fun to fix.

By the time the horse acted in a way unwanted, it's too late to effectively fix the pattern. You actually have to "interrupt the thought" leading up to the action.

Picking out the signs, the moments of thought that lead to an unwanted action is really fun, and kind of tricky. Tricky because in nearly the same moment they start the wrong thing, the horse has a moment of consideration. A moment of consideration is like a window to go.... "Et umm" (the sound of clearing one's throat)

In the moment of consideration, if you are present enough, you can actually interrupt the pattern with a new idea. Miss it though, you witness the unwanted one more time.

Listen, unwanted doesn't mean bad. It doesn't mean unruly or even disobedient. It means "different" that expected.

When a horse misreads your cues, he might hind yield, when you BELIEVE you asked for him to go faster. His mistake is truly innocent. He thinks he's doing it as you want.

Other times a horse just might decide that she doesn't need to use the entire arena and begins to cut in on a turn or peels off the rail, without being asked to.

Watching for the first thought about coming off the rail is the fun part. Finding that "clue" that they're going to do something different than you are wanting. Then looking for your window, they're moment of consideration. That micro second (at times) that allows you a chance to interrupt the thought to repeat the unwanted yet another time.

It can feel like you have ESP! That's just how predictable patterns are.

I think one of my favorite moments as an instructor is when I ask a student to tell me the signs and they KNOW them and KNOW how to redirect the horse to NOT continue to solidify the wrong pattern.

Two times... Not yet a hard fix... Three times... An official pattern to fix.

Next time you work with your horse, see if you can pick out patterns. A spot in the arena where they always look out, where they always lower their head, where they always cut in or hit the end of the line to leave... Then if you want to change any of those things, find the "moment of consideration" and see if you can interrupt the pattern and fix it!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

YOU CAN ACCEPT A FIGHT IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION AND THEN "CLEAN UP" THE EXTRA!

Horses, by nature, learn through their response to pressure. They either push against, or yield from pressure. Knowing how easy it is to use this, natural response to pressure, gift, is key to communicating with horses.

If you opt to use the horse's "push against" talent, it is important to know that you could also envoke a "fight" response as well. Knowing that, also prepares you for your responsibility to "stick with him" in order to effectively TEACH what it is you hope to teach.

If you "quit" when a fight starts... You teach the FIGHT. It is your job to know what to release on, and how much fight you need to allow, for the horse to find the right answer.

In this clip, Faith is learning to lower her head to the ground on a rein cue. Because it is something you would want to be able to ask for while mounted, either to ask them to look at something or even to simply help them come off adrenaline, you don't want the "hand on the poll" cue here.

To teach this, I ask the horse to allow me to raise the line towards her ear (under saddle that translates to a raised UP rein). In order for a horse to search for the answer, they resist, back away, twist and try to escape the pressure, but when you set out to teach this, you came prepared to stick with the horse and NOT release until the horse gives the slightest try to push down on the pressure.

So, that means you back with them when they back, doing your absolute best to not give even a little bit of slack it the line. You will twist and turn, and go left and right, all while maintaining the pressure on the line. The SECOND the horse presses on you, in a downward way, release ALL tension on the line.

TAKE IT!!!

"But, Kirsten, doesn't that reward the fight?"

Yes and no. Yes they will try the head tossing, while they look for the downward answer again, but... They finally found the downward without moving their feet. You have to take it, and "clean up" the extra as the downward gets more solid.

If, however, the horse yanks and pulls away, or get fire in their feet, without any downward pressure...and you release...you taught them that all THAT CHAOS was the right answer.

You can accept a fight in the right direction and then "clean up" the extra!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

GOBSTOPPER

It would not be at all unusual for someone to mention that they believed me to be a patient person with horses. “I can’t believe how patient you are, I would get so frustrated.” Although, this is an absolute complement I don’t see the situations quite the same way.

I equate training horses like sucking on a Gobstopper. (I hope I can speak of the candy without any trademark infringement concerns) The fun candy starts off one color and over time changes into many different colors before reaching the desired sweet tart center.

Now, how in the world is that a training analogy?

Let’s start with the untouched Gobstopper. It is one of many in a package, much like one horse out of a herd. It has layers to it, that reveal themselves with work. There is a guaranteed reward in the center, or at the end.

The first color is the HORSE.

The sweet tart center is the reward or desired response to a training lesson.

The colors revealed and exposed, while you work towards the center, are the layers of learning and understanding. You have to get through the colorful layers to get to the sweet tart, some you like and some not so much, but you know it's there. You know you're going to get to it.

So, that's why I equate training a horse with sucking on a gobstopper. I appreciate being told that I have mentionable patience, but I truly don't consider that patience... I consider that KNOWING.

I know that I will get to the center with consistent effort. I know that the horse might not understand what it is that I’m introducing to them, at first. They might have to reveal the layers, or even shed the layers, that stand in their way to the right response.

I know that I have to rely on the consistency of my effort, in the case of the gobstopper, I have to keep sucking on it consistently in order to get through to the next color.

If I were to stop the process, like remove the Gobstopper from my mouth, I will have gotten to "where I got", and nothing more will come of it. I could revisit the task, but as with horses, I would need to get the juices flowing again before progress can resume.

I equate taking the candy out of your mouth as either quitting too soon or changing the lesson all together.

It's not patience as much as it's a KNOWING. It's knowing they're going to get it, like knowing that you're going to get to sweet tart center of a gobstopper.

I guess when you think about it, maybe it is patience. I mean, you could eat a gobstopper and you just want to bite it, but instead you choose to go through all the layers.

Maybe it IS patience, but it's a different type of patience... it's a patience of complete enjoyment.

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

DIFFERENT HORSE... DIFFERENT EYE

DIFFERENT EYE, DIFFERENT HORSE

What in the world does THAT mean, right? Well, let me explain.

It is one of those interesting differences between predator and prey. See, predators have their eyes in the front of them, whereas a prey animal has their eyes on each side of their heads. This eye placement allows a prey animal the ability to observe both sides of their environment independently. With that, they also register one side as it’s own movie, so that the animal can properly relay to the body what to do, in a hyper focused way.

That said, the horse, being a prey animal, sees each side of HIS body independently. The information they get in the left eye, doesn’t automatically mean anything to the right eye. It truly is as if there are two different beings.

When teaching a horse things, you must not only keep this in mind, but you must plan to educate BOTH sides of the body. Whatever you teach on the right side of the horse, you have to plan to teach on the left side as well.

Some horses do seem to transfer information from one eye to the other, seeming to learn something in one shot, but that is definitely not something you should assume.

If you teach something on the right side of your horse and then try the exact same thing on the left, without teaching it from scratch again, your horse could actually seem lost, scared or frustrated with the lack of information. If you don’t know the DIFFERENT EYE, DIFFERENT HORSE mantra, you might very well get frustrated, consider your horse defiant, stubborn or worse… dumb.

Whenever I have the privilege to work with people and their horses, one of the greatest joys I feel is when someone starts to address both horses with understanding and truly takes the time to share the complete lesson with both eyes!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

KNOWING WHEN TO "FALL OFF" CAN BE THE DIFFERENCE IN STUPID PRIDE AND SAVING YOUR LIFE!

This story begins with a beautiful fall day. Myself and one of my students had finished our chores and decided this day would be a trail day.

"I'm not sure what lesson I have planned, but we have to take advantage of this day and go out." You'll see the irony in "her" response later... "We could do a lesson in tracking." We both laughed, mounted and started our ride.

Everything was perfect, the horses were getting out and we were enjoying the sensation of riding across the lands.

As most trail rides include, we trotted some, walked some, and cantered some too. It was all good! We were just having a nice ride!

Well, for some reason, on a turn, not unlike any other turn in the maze of open fields, Ritz acted up. I was not riding him, so I'm not sure how the moment began, but all of the sudden, here comes Ritz up behind us, (Cowboy and me) shacking his head and seeming playful. I didn't recognize any trouble, until his play sent Cowboy into a bucking bronco state of mind. All of the sudden I was in trouble! He had his nose between his knees and was executing, "real bucks"... Not just kicking up his heel, no, I'm talking all fours off the ground accompanied by the grunts and growls you hear a bronc make.

As a trainer, you ride bucks out in effort to teach them NOT TO, but lucky for me, this day, when I realized this was not a protest fit, this was instinct, I abandoned my "trainer" pride. I was riding the fit, trying to gain control, till two things happened. The tree we were heading for looked like it might be an issue and the moment I saw Ritz run by rider-less!

I was not in control, yet managing the cards I had just been dealt! BUT, knowing what I was riding was instinct triggered, I knew when a "loose horse" ran past us, my situation was about to get a whole LOT worse! Instinct would definitely kick in NOW!

I kicked out my feet and allowed myself to be ejected from the saddle!!! Then immediately ran back to check on my dazed but mostly concerned about her brand new iPhone having fallen out of her pocket, student. She was fine once she stopped stumbling, straightened her helmet and found her phone.

Once we were sure all was well, with no broken bones, we started our long journey back to the barn. Horses tend to "go home" when they lose us!

As we walked, we discussed the importance of my baling out, when Ritz ran by minus a rider. We imagined what certain parts, of that guaranteed runaway ride, would have been like and what injuries I definitely escaped!

We also kept track of the horses' path traveled by checking for and following hoof prints. The irony in the "tracking lesson" comment. Too funny.

The moral of this story, don't be a hero, despite your riding skill. Recognize horses, however well trained, do have a strong innate instinct to RUN if they perceive "danger" or following another horse yelling "fire!" Please know when to bale! You can brush off your pants and your pride, but at least you're alive.

There were many places where those two chose an unsafe path. Skid marks and clear leap marks continually confirmed for me that I was lucky and that a lesson was definitely to be learned here. I proved that even when your job might be to "break" horses from bucking fits, there comes a time to recognize the differences between disobedience, protest and pure raw instinct! I would likely still be recovering from that ride had I tried to be a hero!

Although, I sit here and act like, I was merely just being a good teacher... I completely recognize how lucky I am to have had the clarity of thought to bale! I could have froze. I could have lost all ability to think in that moment. I'm very lucky, and happy to be able to tell you about it!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

Horse story time:

This morning my routine went off without a hitch. All hay and grain were rationed without much confusion and water was distributed with minimal spills. Ritz, Tyson, Katie, Hunter, and Matias all came in without even the slightest fuss. Then I moved my focus to Miles and Bentley!

Well, let me tell you about those two this morning.

Before I start feeding, or even grab the first halter, I flip on some lights. This acts as sort of a silent alarm... "Breakfaaaaaast"

I arrived at the back door, which leads out to a 65 acre salad bowl, and right away I hear Miles calling... "The light's on, she might be there. Come on Bentley, Breakfaaaaaast!!!"

A few seconds later Miles arrives at the top of the knoll with the cloud of dust that chased him there. As the dust surrounded him and fell to his feet, Miles looks back into the fog and yells again, "She's here, lets go. Bentleeeeeeeeeey, she's here. Breakfaaaaaast!!!"

Miles leapt in my direction, then stopped... He spun back and sprinted a horse length or two and stopped. "Yo, Bentley, she's here!!! Come on man. Let's go... Breakfaaaaaast!!!"

Well, despite his best efforts, Bentley failed to obey his big bother. So, Miles gave up and trotted to me. Even as I was putting on his halter, he was still visibility aware and focused on the fact that Bentley did not come. He was hungry, though, so he followed me to his stall.

After settling Miles in with his breakfast and asking him what was up with Bentley, I was off to see for myself.

Now, in his defense, Bentley has been known to have a bit of selective hearing, but this was a little ridiculous!

I grabbed his halter and knew I'd at least need to go to the knoll. I called and called into the fog. As the air moved, I saw what appeared to be a horse, but often the silhouettes in the fog are those of deer.

The image I saw was immobile. Now, what was once a moment of feeling inconvenienced, was turning into a moment of fear. "If that IS Bentley, why isn't he coming now? Is he sick? Is he stuck or tangled up in something?"

As I start my long, unscheduled, journey through the field of tall WET grass, I start to find myself talking aloud..."dude, you better be hurt or something. Making me walk out in this WET grass at 5 a.m. is VERY uncool." Then I had another blip of concern...then back to daring him to be OK.

Once I arrive mere feet from the big goober, I learn, based on his head popping up out of the grass with a mouthful of lush deliciousness, that he is fine. Bentley apparently found an awesome piece of real estate and was not quite ready to vacate the premises!

As I haltered him, I said a few less than sweet words, but with a sweet voice... And concluded, with his first steps, he was perfectly fine! Oh, I had the most fake conversation with him on the way through the wet grass. My voice was all like, "so buddy, how was your night?" where in reality I was like, "dude, this is unacceptable. You will never make me walk out here to GET you EVER again. Do you understand me?" Bentley was happily munching on his last bite, from his favorite spot, as I tried to navigate us back through the path I made to get to him.

After putting Bentley away, I stopped by Miles' again. I assured him Bentley was fine and he needed to not worry. I also told HIM that Bentley would be in big trouble if he made me take that hike EVER again, so he better try harder to get him to come or I'd hold his breakfast ransom. Miles just continued to eat like he didn't understand a word I was saying...

Horses!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

Fear, Self-defense or Personality

Discussion on punishable kicking

This morning I realized that there is definitely a difference in intention when a horse kicks. I also realized that it might be worth discussing. Horses kick for a few reasons; they were startled and it was knee-jerk, they were fearing for their lives, perceived or real, or just they have a sour personality. Which could you punish and make way worse, and which is imperative that you do punish?

A horse that kicks because you startled them, in a knee-jerk way, almost has no control over their movement. I myself have a knee-jerk reaction to being startled, I punch. I would even involuntarily take as many as three steps AT you to land the knee-jerk punch. I feel, having experienced this, that it is involuntary. To punish me for that action would serve no point, as I would honestly admit that I didn’t know what I was even doing, it just happened. I know a young lady who had startled a horse who was standing on the cross-ties. Somehow the horse did not see her in the tack room, so when she stepped out of the tack room, right behind her, the horse kicked in a knee-jerk, reactionary way. Punishing this would have simply been pointless and would scare the horse even more.

The self-defense kick is one I would say that punishment would need to be weighed out. If you corner a horse and it feels threatened, it is not wise to proceed into the kick zone. If the horse is demonstrating posturing that indicates the horse will indeed follow through with a defensive action, such as a kick, backing off and reproaching to give the horse a better sense of safety might avoid this situation resulting in a self-defense kick. I feel, if you get yourself into this situation, punishment results into the next example, the horse that has a pre-emptive strike. That’s the horse that stands in his stall with his tail aimed at the door, daring you to come in. Now, that horse you can TEACH to not need to be in this posture, but depending on WHY they are determines the lesson approach. Proving to him that he was RIGHT to be ready to “get you” would certainly be the wrong approach. A little “understanding” would be in order there.

NOW, the personality kick… that’s the one I most wanted to talk about today. I had an example this morning with my girl Katie. Katie was a pre-emptive strike girl at six months old. She had NO REASON for that other than she was young and trying out the different seats on the totem pole. That needed to be addressed, and was. Katie was “taught” that it would NEVER be acceptable to show me her tail. That lesson had been a solid, well retained lesson, and if for some reason Katie ever wished to throw a temper tantrum, she would aim AWAY!

This morning, I was bringing in Bentley, who ranks below her, but needs to come in before her because Tyson and Katie come in together and if he came in after them, he would be “last man standing” which in my opinion creates undo stress. The arrangement works and usually without any discussion. This morning, however, Katie was more in front of the gate than usual and I needed to instruct her to move along. I literally tapped her butt, not slapped, there was absolutely no aggression or assertiveness offered, just simply, “Move along Katie.” Well… Katie decided that she wanted to express herself and as I stepped into the space she needed to be vacating, she elevated her backside, her feet did not leave the ground, it was a mere raising on the toes feeling. I chose not to address this… one: because she knew better and I respected the restraint she exercised, and two: because had I reacted and came on strong AT her, I was in a position to get into a dangerous fight.

Let’s say she acted on kicking me… THAT would have been a kick energized by her personality, a hissy fit. THAT would have NEEDED to be addressed in the instant.

How would I have handled that? I would have gently, careful and mindful to not throw angry energy at Bentley, turned Bentley back loose. I would have then gotten Katie and haltered her with Bentley’s halter. Then when I safely had ahold of her nose…control of the direction she could put her nose in, I would bend her nose toward me, and very intentionally taken the end of the lead rope and smacked her rump…hard. That would cause her to yield it out of my reach. I would then look at her rump again, having never lost the bend of her nose, and bit her one more time with the rope… even if she was offering to yield it. Then I would stop… likely with her facing me, butt completely away, and take a much needed “calm-down” breath. I would take as many breaths as I would need to to allow my adrenaline to drain. By doing the pause, I give her time to soak on the impromptu lesson and I get my center back. See, this is a lesson, not a retaliation. Once I knew my energy was in an even level, I would then tip Katie’s nose, step towards the hind end, and if this time she yields, I would reward the “right answer” by NOT biting her butt with the rope. Lesson complete!

I would then turn her loose again, call Bentley, and go back to my original plan of bringing Bentley in. I would take him to his stall, go back out and retrieve Katie and Tyson as if nothing had even happened. The trick to training horses, is you CANNOT hold a grudge.

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

“John Barn”

“John Barn”

For years, as a renter of a farm owned by elderly people, I always feared a day I would get a call telling me that they wanted to sell the farm. While the man of the farm, John, was alive, I would see “John Barn” pop up on my caller ID and would feel a wave of uneasiness come over me. For a short while I actually would allow the call to go to voicemail, in hopes that they would get to the point in a message. I found, however, the messages of, “Kursten, this is John, could you call me please?” were harder to hear and built anxiety more than just answering the call in the moment. I still had my uneasy response to the name on my caller ID, but I didn't drag out the experience. Often it was something like, “We wanted to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.” or “If Chris has a minute, could he come down to look at something?” The dreaded call was never the call I received, but I couldn't help my initial panic.

Then my husband and I found ourselves really taking a liking to the idea of eventually relocating to Kentucky. We often dreamed and clicked on real estate sites. We even worked with a realtor to visit a few places that more than peeked our interest. In fact, one time we rented a car and drove there JUST to look at some property. All the other realtor adventures where scheduled during an annual trip to a Colt Starting event. It was more like a, “While we’re here…” something to do thing. Although we had always agreed that if we found “THE ONE”, that we would have me move ahead of my husband and he would remain in New York for the length of time he had left till retirement.

Once the idea of relocating became something we actually might really do, I started imagining just how I would work it out with my landlord. John loved his farm, he just loved it. He spoke proudly and almost in awe of what HE HAD. I knew if I had a way to help him see it remain a farm, whether in helping him re-rent it or sell it to another who would love it as much as WE did, I would have done my best deed for him.

We had new neighbors in the town. A group of gentleman from Pearl River, but really from Ireland, who were buying local farms and revamping them into amazing picturesque working farms. They said that farming was just a hobby for them, as it was their joy in Ireland to farm. They tore down old, beyond repair barns, and replace them with modern, top of the line structures to store hay in. The farming they were primarily doing was hay.

When considering just who would keep my farm alive, if I moved, these few fellows were my first choice. Not only did I know that they would farm the land and make it so much nicer, but they would be keeping a smile on John’s face, if he could have watched the transformation.

Several years of half heartedly, but seriously, looking in Kentucky, we were no closer to finding our dream home, than when the idea was hatched. The calls from “John Barn” however were not any less anxiety triggered though. In fact, one “John Barn” was a request for a meeting. That meeting was one with intention to raise my rent. Although they gave me a month leeway to digest this change, it was a sizable change, nonetheless. THAT, was my new worry when “John Barn” appeared on my caller ID. Now, they will call to make the place unaffordable and “push” me out.

Not long after the increase in my rent, John got sick and passed away. Knowing how much he loved that I loved the farm, I was always a bit confident that I was safe there to not just randomly be asked to move. After he passed, though, the “John Barn” displays on my phone screen scared me even more. John’s wife knew how much John loved having me love his farm, so even still a tiny piece of me believed she would let me stay forever in his honor. I hoped so, anyway.

The “John Barn” calls started to have their daughter on the other end. This didn’t seem like anything bad, but the calls did usually request a visit from either just me, or of Chris and me. I was the only one on the original lease, but they were considering us BOTH their tenants at this point. Denise sometimes would call looking for Chris to help with something labor intensive, because Eddy was no longer as strong alone, as he and John were as a team. Eddy turned out to be a cousin and a brother-in-law… interesting story for another time. Either way, Eddy was not the only man of the land and he was of poor health and getting up in age, himself.

Not long after the first “John Barn” call that resulted in a rent increase, we got another, “John Barn” call. Denise was at the helm and she was sure we were taking advantage of her parents. That resulted in a discussion about another increase and some changes in the agreement. Changes that were not about to be rewritten, but just verbal. To not make waves, we agreed on another number and nervously awaited the next “John Barn”.

Only a few months later, coming to the end of a calendar year, but not near the end of my lease, there it was, “John Barn”. This time it was Claire, John’s widow. She had been out of the loop, as far as being the one who called, but believing that being the first example of Denise’s cowardly “in charge”, Claire had been instructed to call and inform me of a new increase. This one was absolutely unacceptable as it was better than a 25% increase in the overall rent. I said, “No.” I explained that the increase that she was asking for was unacceptable and not something I would be willing to accommodate. I explained that the sizable increase was equivalent to a fancy car’s monthly payment… we hung up. Claire, not one for confrontation, called back after a bit and said that she had talked to the boss…Denise, and asked if I would be willing to meet them half way on the requested increase. I reluctantly agreed. After hanging up the phone I immediately called Chris and told him that we better get more serious about finding a place, because I didn’t believe this was the last of the “John Barn” calls. I was pretty convinced that this was a “push out”. Although I was pretty sure Chris agreed, I think the idea of us buying a place and my moving ahead of him, kept him paused on taking the search up a notch.

One day, Chris’ brother called to tell us that they had bought a beach home in Delaware. “Oh, how nice for them.”, I thought, but not at all putting Delaware on my radar as a place for US. We continued to look in Kentucky and I continued to fear the next “John Barn” call.

I’m not sure when Chris’ friend told us that they bought a home in Delaware, but now that made two people Chris would certainly enjoy spending time with in the same general area for retirement. With that, I joked, because I had seen the Delaware real estate was high and a farm would definitely be out of reach, “If we can find a place in Delaware, I’d move to Delaware.” Now, I was sincere in my commitment to that move, however, I was also fairly confident that we would not find anything we could realistically afford, so I guess you could say, I didn't think I would really have to entertain the change of plans.

Well, here’s where things get fun… One night, I was already retired to my “camping” position, which is snacks and a drink on the nightstand, television on and plans to not move again until morning, Chris trotted up the stairs with a level of enthusiasm that caught my attention. He laid across the bed with his phone in hand and said, “I know that you don’t like when I try to show you things out of our price range, but just look at this one. Humor me.” he said. 

At first he tried to scroll and swipe the listing on his phone, then I simply asked for the address to look it up myself. Chris waited until he believed I truly did Google it and had it open, before left me to explore it on my own.

I looked, it was definitely out of our price range at $549,000, but, “fine, I’ll look.” I shrugged to myself. I scrolled through picture after picture, all 55 of them. I loved the white fence that surrounded the entire perimeter of the property and that outlined not only several paddocks, but a half mile race track. Ohhh, now THAT caught my attention. A track was a deep rooted childhood dream. I was able to ride on a track when I was five years old and it was easily one of the most joyful experiences. 

As I swiped through picture after picture, I saw some that looked current, and some that looked borrowed and old. That variation of pictures got my attention enough to check into the history of the property more. Now those “history” searches where something Chris got into, not me, so for me to look was something new. 

My research revealed that the farm originally went up for sale six years earlier. The pictures that had been borrowed came from the original listing. The original listing revealed that the place was on the market most of those six years, but one year before this day, it had been sold in auction. Now, to me, what caught my attention was that the pictures of the place NOW for sale, showed nothing have been done to the place, and like I said, pictures of the NOW for sale farm, were borrowed from a six year old listing. “Hmmm.” 

My mind got caught on the timeline and the pictures used in the current listing. If the place had been purchased a year ago, wouldn’t something have been done to “improve” the place, therefore offering more current pictures to make a new listing with? Why is it already back for sale, and again, why the same photos from six years ago?

The wonder, became intrigue. The intrigue, became interest. Interest worked it’s way into…INQUIRY!

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

The Big White Barn

I had moved to New York about a year before I moved into my second barn. I had a client that I traveled to after the horses went home from training. I would go there once a week and spend time teaching riding lessons to the oldest daughter. In my hour drive to that client’s home, I would drive past a big white barn. It was an interesting barn with a huge barrel roof. It seemed vacant or even abandoned as there was a spot that once held a sign but was nothing more than posts in the ground any longer. There was a hand written “For Sale by Owner” sign nailed to one of the posts.

One day I brought Lisa with me up to my client’s resort-like farm. As we passed The Big White Barn, I pointed out how much I was interested in it. I don’t necessarily think in that moment I meant that I was interested in renting or buying it, I think I more meant that I was interested in it’s story or something. It was just a unique looking barn. The overgrown lawn, and almost sad way it was standing there, just caught my eye.

It turned out that Lisa knew who the owner actually was. She had even kept a horse there at one time, with a previous tenant. That opened about an hour of conversation about the place, the owner, what it was like in the old days and just different aspects of it. See, it was an old dairy barn, so I actually had no reason to even believe it to be equipped with horse stalls. The barn just caught my eye as interesting. In fact, I think I admired it for at least six months before I pointed it out to Lisa.

On the drive home from my client’s farm, Lisa mentioned that she even knew where the owner lived. I am not at all the type that just pops by someone’s home that I know, let alone a total stranger. Plus, what would have inspired me to go to this man’s home anyway? I had a beautiful barn with tons of amenities. This place was not run down necessarily, but certainly in need of some awakening.

For whatever reason, when Lisa said the man lived about two miles down the road, if I turned left at the stop sign. I turned. I had nothing rehearsed, nor did I even know why I was going to meet the owner. I was almost being driven there by some other energy. I followed it, whatever it was and ended up in the owner’s driveway. Without hesitation, we got out and walked right up to the door and knocked.

John, who had just turned 70, was the owner. His wife Claire answered the door and excitedly invited us in. I’m sure they didn’t know Lisa personally, as there was no recognition of her, but they did recognize the name she offered them for who she boarded with back when. 

We were invited to go inside and sit with them at their kitchen table. Again, I swear, I had no idea what I was even doing there. I had no plan, or even thought of the place, other than I thought it was an interesting looking barn. I have no idea why, but I started to talk with John as if I was negotiating a rental agreement. I inquired on his price and what it might entail as far as amenities. Then I remember even feeling like I was begging him to let me rent it. Apparently it had been vacant for two years due to bad past tenants. He was renting the outside to a young lady who was kind of a left over from the tenants that did so much damage.

We were given permission to go look at the place so we did. I want to say that only Lisa and I went alone, I don’t think John came with us. Lisa spent some time showing me around, walking down a memory lane a bit. When we opened the main barn, I was in awe! You would have never known it was as nice as it was, from the outside. Talk about a hidden gem. 

After we toured the place and talked about possibilities, I told Lisa I was not going to take no for an answer. There was an apartment that I was going to give Lisa and she could manage that barn as I continued to live and run the other barn. I was dreaming with so much inspired thought that there was nothing stopping me. We went back to John’s. I stayed until I talked him into renting me the barn. John had been burned so bad by previous people that he was not interested in renting it to anyone. I just wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

A few weeks later, I was trailering a couple of my horses over to stay the weekend. See, one of the greatest appeals was that I wasn’t restricted to using the turnout space. At the farm I had been renting for a year by then, I was not allowed to put my horses outside in wet conditions. I was only able to take them into the indoor arena and RUN them for a half an hour a day. I even started taking them up to the indoor in the middle of the night to give them more time to stretch. So a place that I could just let them be outside and be horses had such an amazing appeal to me. I planned to use The Big White Barn like a retreat or something for my horses. I wasn’t otherwise sure what I had planned for that 26 stall barn on 65 acres…:)

After ten months of trying to make something happen, business-wise, at the Big White Barn, I decided that it was not going to happen. I had thought, based on how busy the road was, that it would have been easy to attract boarders at least. I was wrong. The barn sat in the middle of a commuter trail, but not many people actually lived RIGHT there. So, yes, a lot of people drove by, but many lived considerably farther away than where the barn was located. I believe that I also over priced the board based on what I was able to ask for at the other barn. So, needless to say, I told John that I loved having the barn, but since I really wasn’t getting anything going there, I was going to return to having only one barn. I had found that the twelve miles between barns twice a day was a bigger drain on me as well. It just made sense to no longer try to maintain two barns just to have a “retreat”.

About two months after I closed my doors at the Big White Barn, I received a phone call from Claire. She had called to invite me out to dinner with John and her. She said that they had really appreciated me as a tenant and that they just wanted to do a little something for me for having been such a good tenant. What??? Who does that? I was gone for two months and I should have been “out of sight, out of mind” right? Wow, I was so honored to have been asked that I accepted.

The dinner was simply a “thank you”. They took me to a really nice place, just the three of us and told me to order anything I wanted on the menu. They literally took me out to dinner to thank me for having treated them well. I felt so amazingly special that night.

A few days after the lovely dinner with John and Claire, I decided that I might not have wanted to try to maintain two barns, but that I would consider just one. I had wanted to be where people cared about me like that! I knew I was giving up a lot of really great amenities and that it was a facility sacrifice, but the love I felt from those people made it such a no brainer. 

I met with the owners of the farm that I had rented for two years and told them that I would be moving out in the next thirty days. At first it seemed to anger them, but after they found another tenant interested in moving from another barn they already rented from them, things seemed fine.

At the end of the thirty days I had been pretty much all moved over. The apartment that I had planned to have Lisa use, had never been moved into by Lisa. It had turned out that she just went back and forth from another town. That too had been one of the deciding factors as to why I closed up The Big White Barn. I didn’t know Lisa never moved in, until we had snow yet no evidence of her truck having been parking there. She never told me that she didn’t move in. John had even asked about getting the heat turned on for her and she claimed that she was just happy to use a space heater. I thought it was a financial thing, not that she wasn’t actually staying there. The nice part of all that, when it came to my moving everything to The Big White Barn, was that the apartment that John went all out redoing for us to move in a year earlier was just as brand new as when he did the work. 

Since the barn had not been used in so long, there was a horrible sulfur smell in the water. I mean rotten eggs that made your stomach turn. It was terrible. My mother had lived in a lake home with that same type of water, so I was prepared to buy bottled water. I knew from having visited my mother’s in an overnight guest capacity, that sulfur water was safe to shower in, so I was ok with it…Sort of!

In conversation with a friend, I mentioned the water. He told me that he thought he heard that you could get rid of that smell by running the HOT water for like thirty minutes. He also said I could change the basic shower head with one that had a filter to try to filter out some of the smell. I was willing to try anything. I ran the water for forty-five minutes, two days in a row. The smell seemed to begin to dissipate so I did run out to get a new shower head. After about a week, I had fixed the water issue. I couldn't have been happier!!! 

Business picked up and things started to really unfold for me enough that I didn’t miss the awesome amenities of the other farm as much as I thought I would. I built an arena, taking sand from a sand bank right on John’s other piece of land attached to mine. I built a round pen and really made the place a fully functional training and riding facility. One thing I really did miss though, was the ability to ride around a fence line. There were driveways that went all about the other property that I would either ride or hand walk my horses on. THAT was something I missed. With all the freedom I did have here, to kind of tailor the place for my needs, I build an electric tri-paddock that saved me twenty-eight feet of space all the way around for that riding path. Now, other than not having an indoor, I was complete! 

I saw this interesting Big White Barn in my travels. I mentioned it to someone who happened to know the owner and where he lived. I was drawn to inquire and essentially beg to rent it. I moved in and moved out. I was shown such a gesture of appreciation that I moved back in. I took over the maintenance and made it everything I wanted it to be. I’m so glad the universe kept having me pass through that route. It’s amazing where life takes us when we just enjoy the journey! 

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

OH OH OH!!!!

I just came up with the best analogy about how I use reins and communicate with reins. So here we go, ready?

Imagine the reins being like a phone okay? When you're busy in your horse's mouth, constantly doing something in your horse's mouth, that's equivalent to somebody butt dialing you. You hear them talking to somebody else, you hear the rustling of their jacket or whatever. You know that they're not actually talking to you, so you either hang up or you listen, kind of giggling, but for the most part when somebody butt dials you you lose interest in the communication. Your rein contact should be like having your horse answer the phone, "Hello?"

When you pick up on those reins, your horse should answer the phone, not assume you just butt dialed them AGAIN!!!

YEAH, I LIKE THAT... 😁

[passionatewayhorsemanshipllc]

WHY WHOA NEEDS TO MEAN WHOA

On October 9th 1984, around 3:30 p.m., I exited the school bus that brought me to the town line. I got on my bike that was chained to a tree at the end of a friend’s driveway, and off I went to the barn. The barn was in Wilton Connecticut but as a Ridgefielder, my bus would only take me to the last drop closest to the line. From there I rode my bike the few miles, to the long down hill gravel drive of the barn.

Once I arrived, I propped my bike against the outside wall of the barn and headed down the long aisle to a young horse I was working with. Nicky was the gorgeous four year old OTTB. He was blood bay, tall and fit. The owner wanted Nicky to learn how to jump, and as a kid who loved my sport of show jumping, I was happy to work with him.

All saddled up and down the very long driveway further onto the many acres this estate boasted, I made my way to the indoor arena. Now that I think about just how far the indoor arena was from the three barns on the estate, it kind of baffles me why it was so far away. I mean you literally had to RIDE there, it was such a long trek.

Once I arrived to the indoor, I announced my approaching the open doorway so not to startle any horses and riders. I arrived to see that there was a riding lesson of young children, ages ranging from 6-9 I would guess. I spoke to the instructor about sharing the ring and we settled on her group using the half of the ring closest to the doorway and I would utilize the half at the farther end.

That day I had wanted to work on Nicky’s balance. He seemed to struggle a bit with cross firing. Cross firing is when a horse canters on the left lead in the front, but tracks on the right lead in the rear. I always describe, the correct movement as; imagine the front leg and the back leg are attached by a string, when the front leg moves forward, the hind leg, on the same side, is supposed to move forward as well. In Nicky’s case, his front leg on the left would reach ahead but instead of his left hind moving in unison, it was the right hind that would move forward. That meant that the left hind was stretched backward, not up under the horse “holding him up" under his body. With that position, a horse could easily “tip over”. Generally, though, they can travel in this awkward leg configuration without falling, but it sure wouldn’t make falling out of the question.

In order to help Nicky with this balance issue, I intended to spend that training session on flat work, specifically focused on bending him in the body, and helping him find and reach under himself with the correct hind leg.

Being a young “cocky” rider, I felt important enough to qualify as someone who didn’t NEED a helmet. You know, all the good trainers didn’t need helmets and well… 😏 So, with that attitude of entitlement, I removed my helmet from my  head, asked Nicky to bring me to one of the jump standards and I placed my helmet on the post of the jump. In that very moment, before even releasing the helmet onto the post, I said to myself, “Watch, the one time I don’t wear my helmet, something happens.” 

And so the adventure began…

Since I was working on bending and responding to leg cues, I took my stirrups and crossed them over the withers, in front of the saddle. I was happily riding along at the walk and the trot. I had not begun cantering, because Nicky was really having trouble figuring out what I meant when I placed my legs on him in effort to have him bend around an inside leg. Even at the young age of fourteen, I knew not to add speed to something that wasn't working at a walk or trot. I was working on big circles and on the lucky times he carried himself correctly, I asked for tighter circles. Pretty much I was riding round and round in circles.

At the barn where Nicky was boarded, there was a gentleman who owned and loved his WHITE (grey) Egyptian Arabian. I never saw him ride his prized Arabian, but always saw him at the barn grooming him, loving on him and walking him around the farm, in hand, like a dog on a leash. October 9th 1984 was no exception to his time spent with his beautiful WHITE horse with his long flowing mane.

I never paid much attention to where the pair would walk to, I just would see him here and there, about the farm, walking and talking. Truly there was an unbreakable bond with what seemed like lots of secrets between them.

I was riding in and indoor arena that had sufficient natural lighting from several skylights and many but not full wall windows. In other words, there would he a picture window in one part of the wall, then solid wall, then another window. The space between windows would likely be best measured as two horse lengths. There were only windows on the long walls and at the end of the arena I was at the short wall was solid. The short wall at the opposite end, was a big wide sliding doors entrance as well as a people door into a small observation area for parents to watch their children from. At that observation spot, there was a continuation of the solid rail from ground to about four foot, that pealed off the long wall and created a smooth arch. Actually all the corners boasted a similar rounded corner, just the two at that end of the arena were a bit more into the area to allow for the space behind the rail.

OK, so back to my ride…

I was working hard going round and round in circles. At times I would be right on the rail, against the wall and other times I would be more in the center of the area I was working. This lovely October afternoon, I took a ride I will never forget. The gentleman with his beautiful Arabian apparently decided that taking a walk in the area behind the arena would be a good choice. Being October, leaves had been starting to collect on the ground beneath the trees. There were many trees outside of the arena, in fact, I would go as far as saying the arena was nestled in the woods, even. So, when young Nicky was deeply concentrating on his lesson, he was lost on the surrounding activities. So, when my friend rustled and crunched leaves outside the arena behind a solid wall, it got Nicky’s attention, but only where he pricked his ears in the direction of the wall. He didn’t lose stride or much more focus really. Not until the WHITE horse appeared in the window just as Nicky’s eye reached the edge of the window. That startled him and OFF WE WENT full thoroughbred speed ahead! 

I was taking the scariest ride of my life. I had nothing, no brakes, no commands, cues or hope of stopping this poor animal who went straight into survival flight mode. We ripped off that wall, turned toward the entrance, where the group lesson was still going on, and took off through all the strategically place jumps, missing all of them, thankfully. I was desperately trying to pull Nicky up to a stop, but having just come off the race track, he knew “pull” meant run harder. And harder he ran!!! Obviously it doesn’t take a race conditioned thoroughbred long to travel 200 feet, so you can imagine how fast all of this happened. Before I knew it I was arriving at the bend where the parents were standing, safely behind the rail. In order to not crash into them, Nicky turned to round the bend to the left. Well, to the left was his weakest direction, as far as his balance issues, so as luck would have it, Nicky’s front left leg was forward and his hind left leg was back behind him… the speed in which we were traveling had enough momentum that such a sudden sharp turn really required balance. Balance that Nicky did not have, so down we went. Nicky fell over, with me still on him. The speed we gathered coming into the fall was enough to propel us into a slide of five to six feet. Since I was on him still, my left leg was a buffer between Nicky’s side and the ground we were sliding across.

Once we heard the ump yell "SAFE", just kidding, I knew horses well enough and had the presence of mind to know Nicky was going to jump to his feet as fast as he could. So, thankfully I was smart enough to quickly roll out from under him, and away, just as he leapt to his feet and took off running again. 

Me? I figured I was right comfortable just laying where I was.

The instructor of the lesson got all the kids, and their horses, gathered and standing quietly while one of the parents came running to my side. I remember her telling people that she was a paramedic and to call 911. I remember her saying over and over, like a broken record, “It’s just a little cut. It’s just a little cut.” with the occasional calm request to get someone to call 911. We didn’t have cell phones then, so someone actually had to jump in a car and go to a phone.

In the meantime, the lady just kept repeating her chant of, “It’s just a little cut. It’s just a little cut.” Then there was an interruption in her chant, when the man who was so innocently walking his Arabian around in the leaves arrived to my right shoulder, “Hold her down.” I heard. I quickly tried to sit up in response to hearing, “Hold her down.” and that’s when I saw my left foot was NOT at the end of my left leg. “Where’s my foot?” I said fairly calmly as I was slipping into shock. My body had no desire to move, I wasn’t fighting anyone to scramble to my feet, I stayed perfectly still other than raising my shoulders up off the ground enough to view my missing foot.

I think nature is amazing that it knew I shouldn't move. I was beginning to feel very cold and started to shake uncontrollably, but had absolutely no desire to try to move. 

As we waited for the ambulance, the lady, and the man who owned the Arabian, stayed by my side. I did keep hearing, although fading, “It’s just a little cut. It’s just a little cut.”

When the ambulance arrived, I think I had been out of it for most of the wait, but when they found my foot bent behind my calve and they tried to gently put it in position, to encase it in a splint, I WOKE UP!!!!

Every bump in the driveway was bringing me to new levels of pain. Although I was in and out of consciousness climbing the two big hills to get off the property, the swales to allow water to cross the driveway instead of making runoff ruts, woke me up in agony! 

The ride on solid pavement to the Norwalk Hospital was a blank except maybe one bend in the road that was taken too fast causing enough of a shift in my balance.

Once I arrived to the hospital, they started working on me, getting me cleaned up and trying their best to get information out of my in and out of consciousness self. I do remember in a very wide away scolding, yelling at the guy cutting off my pants. “You don't need to cut off my underwear!!! Why the hell are you cutting off my underwear???” Then I was out cold again. I do remember freezing, I remember asking for blanket after blanket with no relief from the unbearable cold I was feeling. That I later understood to be shock.

The accident happened just after 5 p.m., the hospital found my parents just after 9 p.m. or maybe that’s when they arrived at the hospital. Either way, it was a VERY long time being untreated for pain, due to no parental consent.

So, as it turned out, I got the chariot ride to a hospital where the nurses were on strike. Yep, pretty lucky eh? The staff that was trying to tend to my care and diagnose my condition told my parents many variations of what they wanted to call a near self amputation. Thankfully that unnerved my parents enough that they chartered me another ambulance ride to Danbury hospital. I later learned that the first hospital was suggesting cutting that last eighth of an inch of my Achilles tendon off and working on cleaning up a stump. Thank you Mom and Dad for not letting them do that!

The trip to Danbury Hospital was a complete blank, I was given morphine, I think, so I was at least comfortable. Either that or my body just quit trying to make me feel anything.

Once I arrived to Danbury Hospital, my parents were there to meet the ambulance and the Dr., Dr. Chris Castles, was eagerly awaiting my arrival. I was rushed right from the entrance into surgery. My mother later told the story of Dr. Castles walking past her with a boombox playing the world series on his shoulder. She tells it as, she said, “I don’t think I wanted to see that.”

I was in surgery for eight hours. Eight hours of emergency microsurgery saved my foot!