My turn to be a geriatric mare

So I'm 21 now... legal to drink everywhere in the world... well, everywhere that it's legal for a person/woman to drink...

I woke up at 5 a.m., that magic time that causes flashbacks to that evil summer of "the internshit," and spent the morning running around trying to get ready to be at the University early. I left my home at 5:30 for the half-hour drive to Mount Royal (I live well into the prairie/foothills area), parking at 6 on the dot.

Why? Because there is no parking at Mount Royal University. There's something like 3,000 spots for a building population of over 20,000 people. Even WITH carpooling and transit, there is no way that there is enough parking for even half of the population.

So they put the passes up for grabs a month early this year, both by sales in the parking office, and through the internet. I was told that by 9 a.m. that day, all passes were sold. I had lost internet a week before the notification went out about the upcoming availability.

Thus, I did not get a parking spot.

So I've been using the visitor parking lots. $10 per day, and just this morning found the $4 day lots (a better option by far), though am not impressed with the half-kilometre walk from that lot to the buildings...

But that's pointless now.

There's another student lot opening up next to the Currie Barracks, and while lots of passes are undoubtedly being claimed through the student waiting list, I'm the first person here if someone doesn't want their pass.

... I think I love drop-outs...



That was mean, but anyways...

Mare and I jumped in a real lesson the other day. First lesson ever. I feel both glad, for having been trained by a professional, and a little sad, for having given up rejecting lesson offers. Why is she back in a barn? Winter is going to be really cold, and really harsh this year. One of our neighbours is putting down their 40-year-old pony to avoid a brutal winterkill, which I personally agree with (he's a sweetie, still enjoying the last bits of summer, but he's so crippled that walking to water NOW is hard enough)...


Well, on with the day.

Building's still not open, and it's 6:41... not impressed...



~Berg.

Love taps

The bruise:



Damn horse... a while after the fact... figured it'd be good to get a photo before it faded...

Barns and Dumbloods...

I've spent the last few months working at the barn I kept my mare at, learning how to work with English horses--and how not to work with them.

Something I've yet to understand is why so many trainers use such a heavy hand when dealing with their animals. Yes, when a horse rears and strikes at you, that's aggression and requires a quick, clearly understood disciplinary action, I understand that.

But when a horse is spooked by someones dog and rears up in an attempt to get away from an obviously evil little ankle biting puggle, I can't wrap my mind around the idea that belting them across the side of their neck is entirely appropriate.

Simply by being a human who co-exists with other humans, I've come to understand hitting as being either a form of discipline, or grave abuse. When a pet of mine is frightened, I reassure them, and they calm down. When a horse is frightened and reacts, apparently I'm supposed to smack them.

I can't remember if I blogged it or not, but about two months ago, while riding with my sibling, I had a small clash or minds with my mare: walking up a small path on the tree'd part of our acreage, my sisters gelding refused coming up on a steepish hill, and I took the lead with my mare. My mare is herd-bound, and both geldings were down the hill refusing to move on. I cantered her in our clearing for about five large circles, then pulled her up to talk to my parents about Ned's repeated refusals.

I definitely wasn't expecting my mare to rear, nor knew how to handle that when she did, but damn did she ever. Stood straight up on her hind legs, then fell backwards and sideways... with me still in the saddle.

I decided to bail about a foot from the ground... way too late to get my foot out from under her rump... she landed on my right ankle.

I'm so glad she fattened up.

Anyways, my immediate reaction when she stood up was to cuss her out for her stupidity. I don't use a crop or spurs when I ride simply because I don't see a need for them... my mare doesn't screw around or refuse unless she has a reason to, and my voice is more than enough to get her to co-operate when she's being difficult. Despite my personal philosophy, my parents, who were present at the time of my... rude dismount... immediately separated myself from my mare under the assumption that I was about to beat her.

Of course I yelled "What the fuck was that!?"

When your horse flips and lands on you, you don't praise them, you react as any normal person would and yelp. However, like any other intelligent person, you also check for scratches, breaks, bruises, and anything else abnormal from before the horse freaked out (hence why I feel that thorough grooming is necessary on a daily basis---just to watch for problems).

Who, when a horse who is 19-years-old, would seriously react violently from a fear reaction. Spooking at something trivial and the rider falling off, that I can see someone being annoyed, but my parents assuming I was going to beat her as most other riders I gleaned skills off of have done in similar situations, that was painful to hear.

So I... anyways, they felt dumb and I checked her out and watched her legs and side for weeks after (she had a grass stain... I don't know why that's so funny, but it is), but it still bothers me that they've had physical reason to worry about that kind of terrible behaviour... watching the people who trained my sister how to jump, and the other higher-level riders who've ridden with us in the past winter...

But the automatic assumption that having worked at that barn means I'd react with violence is saddening... yeah, when a horse lunges out of an open stall window to bite the horse you're leading by them, I can see smacking them the one time and then simply avoiding that same situation some way.The assumption that since I work with warmbloods in an English barn that I must be whack-happy hurts: it's not like I haven't lived with them for over twenty years.

Why does this assumption irritate me? I've worked with hand-shy horses for a while, re-training them to trust people simply through simply showing them ample kindness and never giving them a reason not to trust me. Yeah, that's going to make someones eyeballs roll, but I don't give a shit. I can run up to my horse, arms waving like a lunatic, and all she'll do is sniff me for a treat... that keeps me happy.

... what was my point again?

Oh yeah, dumblood's are friggin irritating, and I'm tired of being talked down to like some smacky-monster...

New girth-cover = love

I got her a cover, finally, for her leather girth... and a new bit (Happymouth, 3-piee D-ring) to replace the one that was tried on Sage (who's a chewer, and made short work of the rubber/plastic parts of the bit...).

Best effin' ride in a long time. Cantered all over the place, no troubles. She was totally peaceable today...

Also got shipping-fuzzies for her halter... and some new bitless nose-piece for my sibling... never seen her horse stop that fast with such a little touch... wicked.

So late, coherency isn't high... ugh... so effin' late...

To everyone else out there trying to sleep, or about to: I wish you sweet dreams.

B

Polar Bears?

I work at the barn I used to keep my mare at now... it's kind of strange seeing everyone from the employee P.O.V. instead of the "Get the fuck out of my way or my horse will ram you" P.O.V....

And for whatever reason, I keep having these weird dreams about riding a polar bear while working, needing the bear to keep the Coyote's away from the horses... which is funny, because I'm usually running screaming away from the bears in my dreams...


I dream about bears a lot... they both terrify, and fascinate me. So huge, so powerful, and so deadly, and yet we decorate our childrens bedrooms with small, fluffy comfort objects shaped like the one land-animal that has no natural enemy scary enough to prey on it... typically, it involves a bear with a pack of hounds, scouring an area near my house for anyone who is stupid enough to be outside when the bear-with-the-pack-of-hounds is out looking for food.

Last night? It was my trusted mount, carrying me off to the back fields where the wily coyotes were waiting for an opportunity to eat my flighty wards. I wonder if this means my mind recognized me passing some form of test.

From what I know, to see a bear in your dreams represents the three aspects of life: life, death, and renewal. Having spent the last year exhausted to the point of mental collapse (I don't really know what it feels like to be fully awake anymore...), I used to fear seeing bears in my dreams, because I always associated them with death or destruction of everything around me. My home, in my dreams, always kept me separated from the bears and the pack of wild dogs, which may have led me to registering that as a warning I was being overwhelmed and that the home was a place to escape that raging beast and his army. Why the bear is always a "he," I don't know, it may have to do with ingrained social response to aggression... which is odd, because I'm female, and more aggressive than most men I know... oh well...

But to see, specifically, a polar bear, that is intriguing. Polar bears represent the renewal, or re-awakening of something, and for me to have ridden it to the fences and used the bear as a partner for defense... that's something entirely new to me. I hope, sincerely, that it IS a reawakening of something.

But are the horses necessarily actually the horses? I named them all as I went to collect them, still riding the bear, so I'm not sure what that means. I was haltering the horse, which to me, symbolizes some form of gathering... gathering myself back to myself? I'm not sure which, but I hope so...

The horse typically represents power of some form, especially when riding one simply because they're such a common symbol for being wild and free, and our historical memory slots them in as tools for those in positions of power ("My kingdom for a horse!"). I'm not sure who, or what they symbolize, but I reached out and caught the horses in the dream and took them out of harms way, into the barn where they'd be safe... I knew all of them, so I'm not sure whether their colours (fleabitten white, several dark-bays, one blood-bay, and a few bays, and a few chestnuts... no brown or gray horses, however) signify anything, or if it's just that I see that colour the most... if the colours are symbolic, that's a good sign, because dark horses represent gambolling for something, and I haltered it. The white horse represents purity of some form, does this mean my life/spirit/mind is being washed clean? It makes me want to go stand in the rain... let it wash my outside clean as well... and is it ever raining...

I spent years sporadically looking up "neo-pagan" rituals and information (no, I am not talking about "spells" or "potions," I'm talking about inner spiritual replenishment) to celtic godesses and gods (not in the "all-powerful creator" kind of sense, in the "I honour those who contributed to this particular aspect of life which I am enjoying"), simply because the connection to the earth represented a healing I needed desperately. I admit to having been a fairweather hedgewitch, having used only what I felt was worth something in order to gain, what I felt, was deeper spirituality.

In my internalized quest to use that to help someone, I lost myself, lost everything I gained as a person, and dried up every creative aspect of my being. I hope, sincerely, that this polar bear represents my taking life and renewal by the fur and finding a way to come back to myself. I've started reading again, recognizing the eight special holidays (celebrating keeps the mind fresh, it's practical). I'm not a pagan, I strongly dislike paganism in its traditional frock for the monstrous things it comitted (much like any religion), though the Green Witch way of life appeals to the very root of my being. It's not a religion. It is a way of thinking about the broader picture, and knowing how to love the individual small things. It is a way to keep life fresh, to inspire, and to grow.

It is not a religion.

It is a way of life.

I do not eat preservatives.
I do not eat wheat.
I do not eat fake sugars.
I do not revell in filth.

I live cleanly.
I live openly.
I keep an open mind, even to that which I do not belong to.
I take pictures, because that appeals to the fragment of my brain that controls the release of endorphins. It's my release.
I breathe deeply because it calms me, and because it's one more way to taste the wind.
I burst into song often, because it's a way to show the happiness that's finally coming back to me.

I love science.
I love Darwin.
I love history.
I love.

That was my life.

I want it back.

I am going to fucking get it back.

And I am going to make it even better.

I am going to ride that fucking bear.





Wow, that went from "nifty!" to something entirely different pretty darn quick...

...

There's something wrong with my sisters horse... maybe I'm putting a human personna on him, but I wonder if he hit his head when he was a foal... Ned's been caught licking car windows a few times... when I say licking, I mean like a dog with peanutbutter...

Geldings make good boyfriends?

My mare has chosen the newest herd-mate, Sage (chestnut QH, looks like his favourite roundbale) as her pasture pal... Ned is frustrated with her interest in the new guy, naturally, but seems to have given up on wooing her to his favour... and by wooing, I mean biting patches of fur off of her ass and being a moron... Sage isn't our horse, he's the newest pet of the family who's boarding our animals, but he seems more than happy to share grass patches with my mare, nose to nose, for the time they're allowed in the field together...

She also seems to have taken a very keen interest in the cattle in the property nextdoor... like she's going to work... I don't find that encouraging at the moment...