Thoughts on Small Thing

At the weekend, I heard Small Thing whinny. It was about 4 a.m. and it woke me up. Except it wasn't him whinnying because he went away.

I always described him as the most fun you could have on horseback.

• He made me laugh. Every. Single. Day.
• I loved how small he was, because he was so easy to be around. He came in a manageable package and was the perfect size for me.
• He hated to be fussed with - like a small school boy, if you tried to tidy his hair or brush his face, he'd duck out of the way. That didn't stop me giving him his daily hug, though.
• His thought processes were subtly different to the big horses. He'd make choices about where to go and what to do that they never would - mostly because he could. It kept me on my toes. And it made me laugh.
• He was always the most vocal one out there - in the mornings if you weren't going out to feed straight away, then you'd better be quiet around the house, because he'd be whinnying the second he heard any signs of stirring. 
• He had a deep-throated frog whicker and a high-pitched whinny, and he was always very chatty and would talk as you came up. Any time you took him out in the trailer on his own, he'd whinny at you any time you stopped and in peered through the window. He did it that last day when I stopped to check on him going through the canyon.
• He could drop and roll and jump up again and look gumby-like doing it - there was nothing lumbering about him. 
• He was light on his feet and could jump like a cat from a standstill. Clever on his feet, he was never clattery - he would take quick little steps in rough terrain.
• He almost never panicked when he got stuck - he'd jam his feet in spaces then have to figure out how to get them out - not panicking, just mildly irritated that he'd gotten stuck.
• He hated going through overgrown yellow star thistle on the trail when it spiked him in the legs.
• He was good-natured (although could pin his ears and act crabby at feeding time), and although he never kicked me, I never quite trusted his rear end. It's not that he'd kick maliciously, more that he'd kick out reactively before he even knew he'd done it. 
• He was very herd-oriented - if we were out with others and got too far ahead, he'd stop and wait for them, looking back, waiting for them to catch up - even if it was just pft on a mtn bike. 

Losing Small Thing was more than just losing a horse. He wasn't just a horse, he was something different - something so fun and so uplifting - and most of all he was mine - he was the product of a specific path that I took on my own, with no support group. He wasn't a horse who would ever be passed on to anyone else and I figured I'd have him for the next 30 years at least.

From 15 months on, I was there every step of the way. I watched on anxiously when he was gelded, I watched him grow up (with anxiety as he got closer to needing saddle training), sent him to summer school for basic saddle education, and then went through his continuing education step-by-step. Every ride was an adventure and every excursion was fun.

I'm mourning not just what was, but what could have been in the future.

This was to be his year - as soon as 20 Mule Team 100 was over with, he was going to be on-deck and at the forefront of my energies. I was so excited about what we were going to achieve this year. I had no idea if the goal I'd set for us (Tahoe Rim Ride 50 mile) was even achievable and was more nervous about it because of that than anything I've done in a long time. But I was excited to try and see where we ended up.

I was thrilled by everything we'd achieved in the past and how every time I'd set him up to succeed, he'd amazed me as to how well he'd performed. Virtually every time we went out, I'd come home proud of how he'd done.

In losing him, I lost the goal, the direction — I don't even know what to call it — the hope? that began back in 2005 in wanting a welsh pony of my own and everything that goes with that.

And now that's all gone and I'm not sure I'm ever going to get it back.

By a series of events, I ended up with too many horses, so he got put on the back-burner too many times. In reality, I only have time for three - and I still have four. There'll be no new ponies for me for a long time yet. At age 55-60, will I be willing to start again from scratch?

In a superstitious way, I almost feel like I caused it by considering letting go of my "insurance horses" (either Hopi or Uno). You have to keep them so that you never need them. I thought about passing them on to someone else and the obvious happened.

Looking at him lying there, still warm and still so recently "just there", I looked at his feet and somehow wanted to take them home. They were his feet that I cared for, that I shaped and worried about, and worked on to try and improve. And now they were stuck on a shell that wasn't coming home with me.

And I feel like I let him down - I took him there to fix him, and instead I left him there.

Briarfair's Jumping Jack Flash

7 July 2005 - 14 January 2017

For several years in my early teens, around 1979-onwards, I went on riding holidays on Dartmoor in Devon. There I had the pleasure of riding "Snowlander Fury" a little grey welsh pony who matched his name - he was so fun to ride.

2005:
Fast forward to mid-2000s when I met a lady at Point Reyes riding a tiny welsh pony. Up until then, I was sad about my lost youth - how I'd never be able to repeat the fun I had on welsh ponies. This lady proved it wasn't true - that welsh ponies were quite capable of carrying adults - and still keeping up with the big horses. She gave me the names of some local breeders and some pointers on what to look for, and I found a small-scale breeder not 30 minutes away in Shingle Springs - Briarfair Farm. Irene had a colt for sale from Bristol lines - old style breeding - i.e. a useful pone with substance, instead of a weakling fancy show pony. Bristol Farm believed that Section Bs "...were bred to enable the shepherd to work the hill with his dogs. Can anyone, quite frankly, see most of the B's today working the hill? Most of them today could not take my maiden aunt down the high street without going lame, and certainly not without its rug on." [Welsh Pony and Cob Society Journal, 1975, Wales]. 

In September 2005 I went to look at Briarfair's Jumping Jack Flash - and, when I told her wanted him, Irene asked me: "You are going to keep him for ever and ever?". I promised I would.

At the time, I thought we'd have him until he was 40.

On October 1st Jackit came home with us. Up until then, he had never been in a trailer that moved. Getting him in didn't require too much encouragement - stepping up into it was hard, and he did a weird flailing of feet the first time - almost like spanish walk. Apart from producing a copious amount of poop for such a tiny pone, and one whinny coming up Marshall Grade, he got off the trailer at the other end with a great deal of nonchalance - amazing, given that he was only 15 months old.

Walking the fence in his new home, October 2005

Fenceline completed, time to let him explore on his own, October 2005

The stupid grin that accompanied most of everything to do with Jackit, October 2005

New roommate, Roo (himself newly-arrived a couple of months before), October 2005

From the first, he made me giggle. Almost every photo I have of me and him, shows me grinning like an idiot.

2005-2010:
For the first five years or so, he just hung out in the paddock, tormenting the big horses. He'd bite them on the bum, then canter a circle around behind them so they couldn't get him. He had absolutely no respect for any "authority" and I reasoned that if the other horses couldn't get the upper hand with him, I stood no chance. Although he was so funny, I was anxious about how exactly I was going to put any proper training on him.

Video: Working on his trot-outs as a long three year old, April 2009

Out for a walk, January 2010

First saddling, April 2010

In the summer of 2010 I sent him back to Irene for saddle training. At that point we'd put a saddle on him, but that was about it. Irene did some excellent work with him - basically dealing with my benign neglect. She had to break him down to "no, you are not the center of the universe" and then build him back up again. The pony she returned to us was polite and a pleasure to be around.

Hooching over his back prior to first mounting, August 2010

First ever ride, August 2010

From then on, we just went out and had fun. He was pretty fearless (unless it came to crossing small bodies of water, which he totally overreacted to) - wooden bridges, clambering over rocks, trailering, ...he took it all in his stride.

Second ever trail ride - Meadowbrook, October 2010.
Wherever Fergus went, he would cheerfully follow

Overreacting to a tiny creek, Cool, November 2010

Gerle Loop, Magnolia, November 2010

Settling in at Cool

2011:
By the following year, we were starting to gel. By then he'd happily go out alone, in the dark, and basically go wherever you pointed him. We met a bear one evening out at Cool and he reacted more to the scary water trough at the trailhead than the "alarming wildlife".

July 5, 2011 (two days shy of his sixth birthday):
"As soon as we hit Cuz's Trail on the way back, though, he knew where he was and took off after Fergus like a real horse - trotting at speed and even cantering a few strides (<gulp>) shortly before this photo was taken (hence the large grin). It's the first time I've ridden him like a real horse - just letting him rip. Big Fun."

That summer we went horse camping at Faith Valley. At that point, he was pretty much over the greenie stage - we could more or less go anywhere (not necessarily with any finesse, but we'd get there) with confidence. And I discovered how much fun he was on difficult footing. He was like a mountain goat.

Faith Valley, September and October 2011 - hanging out with his buddies.
He liked having the spring tie facing backwards so that he could see Fergus and try to steal his hay. 

Any time we got to anywhere a bit tricky, I'd take off his reins and turn him loose to figure it out on his own. 

Coming home after one of the most fun rides ever on the PCT near Blue Lakes

Demonstrating that Cougar Rock wasn't out of the question

His arch-nemesis - a large boulder on the trail in Charity Valley.
Here I'm asking him to at least touch it with his nose.

I absolutely adored riding him in tricky terrain - the more difficult it was, the cleverer he was. I reasoned that if I could stay with him (not always easy - he had a tiny "sweet spot" to balance on which took me a really long time to get used to), then he would likely stay upright underneath me.

I have a vivid memory of riding him at Cool in slippery footing and him acting like a cartoon horse - legs going everywhere, but I sat tight and he stayed upright - not something I think a bigger horse would have done in the situation.

The only time I came off him was a misunderstanding which went a bit like a Mexican standoff, with us each independently trying to decide which way we were going to go around a particular tree. The fall must have been all of 30".

Playing stud muffin on the high-tie when Fergus and pft went for a solo ride.
I never stopped loving watching him - he was so beautiful.

Autumn 2011 at Cool - still grinning

At Christmas time we went on our annual desert camping trip to Joshua Tree and he was outstanding. Again, perfect type of trail for him and I was so proud of how he took it all in his stride. We had a most memorable solo ride together one of the days - he was absolutely perfect and we had a lovely time.

Video: Letting off steam on the way down to Joshua Tree, Christmas 2011

Letting off steam at Bridgeport on the way down
(you need to do this when they've been standing in mud)

Enjoying the sunshine at Joshua Tree

Exploring Deer Trail at Joshua Tree. Once it became clear we'd lost the trail, we took a gully down to the main wash. And again, turning him loose was the best option, so he could pick his way down by himself. 

Joshua Tree. So. Much. Fun.

2012:
In May 2012, I deemed us ready for his first limited distance ride. By now, rechristened Small Thing—at least on paper—we went to Washoe Valley. Patrick and Fergus were to chaperone us. Worried about difficulties booting him the morning of the ride, and worried about losing boots, I bought him a brand new set of gloves and powerstraps and we put them on the night before. It was near freezing that night and the boots showed no sign of going on, so we heated them up in front of the heater to soften them and whacked them on firmly with a mallet. Small Thing was perfect the following morning, even walked calmly around camp on his own while pft was finishing getting ready. We crossed the start line and about 100 ft later started to trot - and he was dead lame. I suspect having boots heat-shrunk to your feet is an immediate recipe for this.

Washoe Valley fail, early May 2012

Later that month, we went the furthest we'd gone thus far - 22 miles on the California Loop for the Tevis Fun Ride. This was the first time I'd (successfully) taken him to an organized event and ridden him in unknown mixed company. The ride went flawlessly, with the exception of two exciting moments:

• while I was off and leading him, he got startled and he shot off up the trail, squeezing passing Fergus and I thought he was going to go over the side (I figured he'd end up in the bottom of the creek, unscathed, but with no way for us to get him out), but he gumbied his way out of the situation
• on the narrowest, most exposed part of the trail (about 12" wide), he decided to stop  turn sideways to snack.

I thought by the time we reached the river road on the CA Loop, he'd be pooped out and dragging.
The reality that I was pooped out and dragging (starting to suffer from heat-stroke) and
he ran off with me along the road to catch Fergus (who Renee was borrowing that weekend)

Laying on the picnic bench at Francisco's, trying to de-crick my back and recover from overheating. 

Small Thing very concerned that I wasn't moving

In October, he and I went up to Donner Summit and rode the Castle Peak solo. This was the longest ride we'd done on our own - and it's a tough one. He was demoralized in places, but ultimately did an excellent job:

Castle Peak Loop Video

The following Christmas, we again went to Joshua Tree. I took pft up on the Cliff Trail and set ST trotting on the twisty trail among the cholla. At that point, ST was much handier than Fergus on those types of trails, judging by pft's squawking. A few days later the weather deteriorated and we rode in the snow.

Christmas Day 2012 - this wasn't the only tangle he got into with his hay net

Joshua Tree, January 2013

2013-2015:
From 2013 onwards, I got busy with other horses. Fergus and I were embarking on our 100 mile career and I was trying to get Uno up and running again. The pendulum wouldn't swing back in ST's direction again until the summer of 2015 when I tried to use him as "Horse #3" at Faith Valley when we had visitors from England. This ended up being a disaster from his point of view. He was anxious and agitated from the start - flipping up and down on his high-tie and being almost impossible to control when taken out for a hand-walk. When it came to riding, he got left behind, got upset, I got clutchy, he reared... and it ended badly. But I set him up to fail and regret that, and it regressed our relationship somewhat. I got frightened to ride him.

Trying to get things back under control - August 2015

That Christmas, I aimed for a reset. He and I spent some quality time - little and often - under the guidance and chaperone of Kaity. I learned how to avoid the clutchy-negative spiral that I'd get into when he got anxious, and we got back on track.

Day 1 of our reset nearly ended in tears when, in my nervousness, I totally forgot to put on his breast collar.
Thankfully nothing bad happened and we were able to borrow Ani's breast collar to finish the ride. 

Video: Upset that Fergus has been taken from him

2016:

July 2016

Sept 2016

ST's new blankie. When we got back from Christmas break and found he'd ripped his old blankie down the back,
I jokingly said that he'd never be allowed to wear this new one. As it turned out, that ended up being true. :(

One of the last proper rides we had - exploring at Donner Summit, October 2016
We had the best day and it was so fun to have him up there, playing on his best type of terrain

Enjoying the sunshine, November 2016

Video: ST demonstrating his mini-arabian look

2017:
Back to where we should be, I entered the lottery for the Tahoe Rim Ride, reasoning that it was the perfect trail for him - we'd both have fun and he'd get to do a 50 miler. I was thrilled when we got in and excited for the new goal ahead.

* * *

Saturday 14th January I went down to feed and noticed him "lying in the sun". Didn't think much about it until I glanced up and noticed him rolling in a different spot. Took his hay bag into his shelter and he came running up - only to turn tail and go running back down to the bottom of the paddock and flop down again. And I knew we were in trouble.

There followed four nightmarish hours of horror. Of him getting cast in the field, getting stuck under the fence, going down over and over in pain. Patrick walked him in circles while I ran indoors to get dressed and grab my wallet. I drove him to Loomis Basin and didn't even get out the end of my road before he cast himself again in the trailer. Every time I stopped, the whole truck and trailer were shaking from his thrashing.

At Loomis they sedated him, gave him pain medication, gave him IV fluids, but ultimately it became clear that it wasn't going to work out and the decision was made.

The vets were kind enough to do a necropsy on him at the end of the day and discovered he had a small intestine strangulation. He would not have survived colic surgery.

* * *

As I said, I thought I'd have him until he was 40 - that we had years ahead of us. He was the best pony a girl could want and will never be replaced. There are some things you don't ever get back and he was one of them.

I thank him for the laughter and fun he gave me over his 11.5 short years - during 10 of which he was the apple of my eye.

Run free, Jackit, and I hope you get to bite Provo on the bum wherever you two are - because you know how much he hated it.

Small Things in Disgrace

The intention was to ride this morning - as it is many mornings, but almost never happens. But this time I was motivated - Ash sent me a care package of various boots and captivators to try out on Small Thing and I was gung ho to get out there.

That is, until pft let me know late yesterday afternoon that Spike had gotten into a drawstring bag left over from our camping trip* last weekend that contained my knitting (not one, but three 450 yrds balls of fine, expensive yarn) despite the bag being drawn tightly closed.

(* write up to follow)

Thus ensued a stressful evening, running late into the night, detangling yarn. This is about the sixth time this has happened and we are well into double digits of hours spent at this task. Managed to get the worst of the three balls untangled and put the other two "piles" into a zipped bag he can't get into.

And so that I couldn't see them.

At least for a few hours.

I'm not sure what the appeal is, but Spike worked quite hard to get this last batch of yarn out. I used to think it was the ziploc bags the yarn lived in that was the appeal but these weren't in a ziploc. Wondering if it it's the smell...?

So because of the late night and general crunchiness, instead of riding this morning, I spent an hour or so putting boots on and taking them off. On the front, Small Thing has strange wide, round feet that are very upright with not terribly well-defined heel bulbs, while on the back his feet are heart-shaped - wide in the back, pointy in the front, so it was a judgement call as to what would fit best.

First fitting: Toe wire needs loosening so the toe strap isn't pulled so short,
and the small captivator around his heel is either just going to work,
or just not going to work. Time will tell.

I was fiddling with the last foot – the right rear – and trying to maneuver him so his foot was in the shade to take a photo when he kicked out at me.

Now I assume he was irritated, trying to eat his breakfast and I kept messing with him. And if he'd intended to connect, then he would have. Still, it was a very active kick in my direction and immediately resulted in me screaming like a banshee at him and firmly enforcing the "Three Second Rule" (although in this case, it was more like a "Nanosecond Rule").

I am still hoarse.

Small Thing shot out of the shelter into the paddock at high speed, dislodging that RR boot as he went and then proceeded to run around anxiously avoiding me (advancing on him in a threatening manner). The lost RR boot was still fastened around his ankle and it flapped enthusiastically the entire time without him having a the slightest interest in it. So at least that's good.

Finally got him back in the shelter and got the boot off. A good test of what isn't going to work - think I needed to snug up the pastern strap slightly, but more importantly, need to whack off some of that pointy toe to get the foot to seat better in the boot. No surprises there.

(Renegades are more forgiving of trim length than Gloves... but still not that forgiving.)

So both my favorite small things are in disgrace, and unfortunately, the thing that draws me to them is precisely the thing that causes most trouble - independent and active personalities.

May - Week 2 and a Bit

Week 2:

This is kind of backwards since the weekends are preceding the weeks - which everyone knows is wrong, since all weekends come at the end of the week. I will try to do better.

High Desert - Weekend 9th-10th:

Roops, Finn, Spike, pft, pft's dirt bike, and I had a splendid excursion to Nevada for the never-before-ridden High Desert Ride. As we arrived the skies opened and the "10% possibility of rain" materialized as about 2 inches-worth of wetness.

Roops and I rode with Dionne and her big mare Storm who was on her first 50 and we had a lovely day yakking away and riding about in the hills. I had wished for a nice relaxing ride with no drama and that's exactly what I got - right up until a rider just ahead of us fell off and broke her hip and had to be care-flighted to the hospital in Reno. Poor Dionne was made to go slower than Storm's capabilities, since Roo didn't need to be trotting along at 10+ mph, but we got the job done and I got a customary 5th from last - huzzah. 

pft rode about on his dirt bike and lolled about at camp. The dogs inadvertently got to gallop about in camp and have a wondrous time greeting all the neighbours until corralled. A fine time was had by all.

Monday 11th - Sunday 17th:

In which I worked, drove, slept, scratched the raging case of poison oak I picked up riding Fergus on the Powerlines and at Cool, and dealt with lumps*.

(*continuing saga from two years ago. I took high doses of Zinc, the problem went away for a year. I was cured so stopped taking the zinc, the problem came back. I am back taking high doses of zinc.)

So much for dynamic thoughts of pre-work riding and "Getting Stuff Done".

In fact, Saturday I didn't get out of bed at all, and instead sat and read a Norwegian mystery - Dreamless by Jørgen Brekke. Good reading, apparently, since it only took me a day to finish. This seems to be a regular cycle for me at the moment - go really really hard, then crash spectacularly.

Sunday I frog-marched myself out of bed and trimmed overdue Small Thing's feet - dug out the interesting remains of an abscess on his right rear - and then took Fergus out of for his final "long" conditioning ride before NASTR 75 in two weeks. Neither of us were filled with energy, so we did a peddle-ride with windmilling legs while Fergus ate his favorite seed-grasses. Lost both back boots - apparently I should read my own blog since it appears I used exactly the same back boots that fell off during our last big conditioning ride . 

Fergus Angst:
I'm hoping Fergus' current lack of enthusiasm has everything to do with being taken out on his own (and not having suitable back feet footwear), and nothing to do with my recurrent angst about saddle+pad fit. Using the Freeform panels for 20MT and NV Derby - something I was really pleased with at the time and seemed to be working beautifully - caused huge white stripes to appear along his back - argh. Every time I look at him, all I can see is those stupid white patches, never mind he's not remotely troubled by them when I palpate his back

Whatever I seem to do with pad inserts results in what feels like a huge wodge on his back along the top edge of the inserts. I had tried some shims which I thought were working, but next time I felt them, they felt bulky in that trouble-area. I will try reversing them so the tapered edge is up towards his spine.

In the Good Girl Department, I mended some torn gaiters with my handy "Speedy Stitcher"... $40 saved.. yay me... I'm trying to work up the courage to do my Ariat riding shoes, which have unravelled stitching down one side, but I'm scared of making a big lump in the wrong place on the inside. It's not rocket science, Lucy.