Pirate Run (Part Two)

[Howard4567@aol.com]

Pirate Run (Part Two)

We ended up on the orange loop.  Princess, being the yourg horse she is, is 
just a hoot to ride.  She notices everything, including bugs, birds, and any 
inanimate object that looks out of place.  She doesn't do that complete body, 
side step maneuver that Arabian horses have mastered; she has this cutting 
horse move with her front end, and she can move so quickly it never ceases to 
amaze me.  It took me a long time to keep my seat and not end up on the 
ground, where she has put me on numerous occasions.  

I'll never forget our first trail ride together, when she was almost three 
years old.  We had gone a mile or so, she seemed to want to relax for awhile 
and we found this really neat patch of grass.  I made the mistake of relaxing 
my legs and letting up on the reins so she could lower her head and eat.  

Suddenly, a butterfly (yes, a butterfly) appeared out of nowhere and spooked 
her big time.  She went crazy bucking and then she reared up.  Not having 
enough time to regain my "ready" position in the saddle I ended up doing a 
back flip over her rear end, somehow landing on my chest when I hit the 
ground.  And bless my little Paint, she didn't take off on me and head for 
home.  This was a good thing cause I remember laying down on the ground for 
quite awhile, trying to get my breath back which had been removed, instantly, 
from my lungs.  I limped and my entire body was sore for a week after that 
fall.  All from a tiny horse two hands smaller and two hundred pounds lighter 
than Dance Line.  But, man, could she spring up in the air, higher than 
Michael Jordan leaping off the court to make a slam dunk.

After trotting for a couple of miles down the orange loop, Princess and I 
encountered a small creek with a bank on each side.  You had to go down a 
small embankment, cross the water and then go up a hill on the other side of 
the creek bed.  She would not cross this hazard, which, to me, looked like 
nothing at all.  I tried to be patient with her and would have waited her out 
if not for the approaching sunset.  I did everything I knew to get this horse 
to cross, but some donkey ancester starting swimming in Princess's gene pool, 
and she would not budge.

This was very disconcerting to me since I knew we'd have to cross this thing 
during the ride on Saturday.  I made the mistake of getting down off of 
Princess, thinking she'll follow me, the leader, anywhere. Haha.  After 
trying to lead her for ten minutes or so, I knew another course of action had 
to be taken.  I got alongside her and nudged her back end with my hand.  This 
did make her move forward, but only a couple of inches, and then she backed 
up on me a couple feet.  I had no intention of losing this battle, but she 
was putting up one heck of a fight here.

I decided it was time to get serious.  My patience had just run out.  I 
picked up a stick and started tapping her on the butt with it.  This worked 
rather well and I got her down in the creek bed.  I went up to her head to 
stroke it and see if I could get her to relax a little (she was all tensed 
up, breathing hard and arched at the poll).  As I moved to her head she swung 
her body around mine, went back up the emabankment from where we came and 
ended stuck under a tree that had a ton of vines hanging from it's branches.  
Damn if Princess hadn't gotten herself right in the middle of some sort of 
briar patch.

I ended up breaking off the smaller branches of the tree surrounding my 
excitable horse and, carefully, removed all the vines that engulfed her young 
body.  Riding out on new trail is so much fun, quite an adventure sometimes, 
I told myself.  She stood still for me (I don't think she had much choice 
with the vines all over her) as I pulled them off of her, cutting my hands 
from the barbs in the process.  

I got her out from under the tree and decided our ground training wasn't 
going that well, so I remounted.  This was turning into one ugly scene here 
and I even considered going the other way, giving in to my stubborn mare.  
But I knew that would be a mistake, in spite of, also, knowing that this 
whole creek thing had turned into a phobia that was going to repeat itself 
everytime we got here.  One thing I've learned from horses, a bad experience 
does not go away easily, and often repeats itself cause they have such a good 
memory.  

I did, finally, get her across, but it wasn't by using the Monty Roberts or 
John Lyons
methods.  And, damn, if she didn't leap over the entire creek, from bank to 
bank, once she determined that I was pretty serious about her getting to the 
other side.  I had now named this tiny creek, with slow moving water, the 
"Raging Princess Whitewater Rapids."  And I was bound and determined to come 
out here tomorrow morning and do it all over again.  I didn't have time to 
cross it again now because the sun was setting on us very quickly.  Tomorrow 
I'd try and find another horse and rider to go with to make the whole thing a 
non-event.

In addition to this being Princess's first 25 mile ride, it was also to be 
the first time she has spent living inside a portable electrified corral.  I 
even went so far as to make three rungs of the tape for her, and made it 
plenty big so she could move around.  We had practiced this some at home, but 
out in the far far away lands of Alabammy here, I knew she would need to be 
watched and kept in line.  The last thing I wanted was for her to learn not 
to be afraid of that "zap" and get out on me.  Especially since I knew Kim 
owned a stallion, who was stationed, ready for action, nearby.  I didn't want 
any babies made on this trip, even if the stud fee might be nothing.  I found 
myself wondering if they made chastity belts for virgin mares, like Princess, 
to console their human caretaker.

I had a new neighbor, Mary Ellen, who owned a 19 year old bay gelding.  Her 
horse had completed tons of miles and she was doing the 50 mile run here on 
Saturday.  She had put him in an area right next to Princess.  Evidently, on 
Thursday night, Princess and this new horse had bonded a great deal.  At 
least Princess had bonded, because when Mary Ellen took her horse out of the 
pen early Friday morning, my horse started going bonkers.  She began to buck 
and rear up even though there wasn't a butterfly in sight.  It got so bad I 
was afraid she was going to charge through the electric tape and chase down 
Mary Ellen's horse.

I got out a lead rope and decided to take my young un for a walk.  We went by 
Mary Ellen's rig where she appeared to be saddling up her horse.  I asked her 
if she would mind if I joined her out on the trail.  She agreed and I started 
saddling up.

We ended up following the orange loop again, and I knew we'd eventually come 
to the Raging Princess Whitewater Rapids area.  I just love adventures first 
thing early in the morning.  Princess was moving out rather well; she has a 
very nice extended trot that she learned from Rebel, my daughter's Arabian 
horse.  Thanks to Rebel and my daughter, I felt my young horse was in 
excellent condition to do this 25 miler.  I had been doing the same training 
routine with Princess that I had done with Dance Line when getting him ready 
for the 50.

It was a beautiful morning, crisp with a slight chill in the air.  I wore a 
long sleeve shirt and kept it on till later in the afternoon.  I just love 
Florida weather this time of year, even though I know the cruel and dreadful 
summer isn't too far behind.  Fifty days left till the start of hurricane 
season, the most exciting time of the year.

Mary Ellen was kind of quiet, so I did the talking for the both of us.  On 
and on and on I went, unable to get much of a chuckle or laugh from her.  I 
took this as a challenge and was not detered.  Even if my words couldn't get 
a laugh from Mary, I think my actions at the creek up ahead just might do the 
trick.  I wasn't all that worried; I'm sure Princess would just follow Mary 
Ellen's horse's lead, no problem.  

Well, I was wrong about that one.  We got to the creek, Mary Ellen's horse 
crossed with no problem, no hesitation, and mine just froze up and locked her 
legs.  Just like she did last night.  And I had forgotten to bring my riding 
crop.  

It was almost a repeat of last night, except this time we kept out of the 
vines.  Mary tried to help us by having her horse cross and recross the 
creek.  Princess would not take the bait.  I tried not to get angry, but my 
horse was definitely wearing my patience down to the bone.  

This time I got her across by getting down and smacking her butt with a large 
stick.  When she leaped over the creek bed, with me along side her, I just 
knew this would be the last time I got off my horse to cross this area.  Too 
dangerous as I saw her back legs fly past my head.  Plus I was soaked even 
though the creek bed was only a foot or so deep.  I think I finally did get a 
chuckle from Mary as she saw my wet body, along with some dirt and sand my 
horse had kicked on my face and chest.

I told Mary I was the only person on record who has been kicked out of a John 
Lyon's horsemanship clinic, with a full refund, after signing some sort of 
agreement that I would never try and attend one again.  She didn't laugh at 
that one.  I think she might have thought it was the truth.