Bad News, Good News

Today's bad news:

Our weanling QH filly, Tiffany, has a marked rear-limb lameness, and has to be taken to a large-animal hospital for high-grade diagnostics. To complicate matters, she's never been trailered, so her first lesson has to come under less than ideal circumstances.

The good news: The animal hospital--that of Washington State University--is only about 20 miles from home, and my husband works in the same general area of the campus. So we don't have to send Tiffany hundreds of miles from home; even if she needs surgery and has to stay there for a while, we won't be far away.

Fingers crossed for a low-hassle loading/hauling episode, and for a lameness problem that can be fixed. Tiffany is the nicest of the babies we've raised...and when it comes to lamenesses, isn't that always how it goes?!

LHIFTLP! (Let's Hear It For the Little People)

Today, thanks to web-cam technology, I got to watch a small victory for those known as "the little people." Among the top-10 winners in the World Championship Appaloosa Show's open yearling longe line class--from a field of about 30, shall we say, "bigger players"--was a bay filly with nothing BUT "LP" connections.

Her name is A Secret Melody. She is the first offspring of a relatively unknown stallion, whose own brief show career consisted of halter classes--not what most "in the know" show people seek out for a Western pleasure-type sire. Her dam is an adored but nothing-fancy old family pet, with no modern-market broodmare credentials whatsoever. The filly was born in back-of-beyond Idaho, where she shared her first pasture months with wandering deer, moose, and elk. Her current owner, who did all her own training and who handled the World-level showing duties on her own as well, is a longe-line rookie from Bismarck, North Dakota. For the record, her name is Charlotte "Chuckie" Heim.

Apparently, nobody told A Secret Melody's wee support group (owner, breeder, stallion owner, and his wife) that they wouldn't have a chance to do well. I guess being unknown has its advantages--people can't tell you you've gone wrong when they don't know you exist.

Hire a pro handler for the filly's World Show run? Nah. "My filly knows me best. So I'll just go ahead and show her myself," went Chuckie's reasoning.

A Secret Melody ended up placing on each of five judges' cards. One judge even put her up in second place. Quite an achievement for a Lil' Miss Nobody horse from Idaho and North Dakota.

And needless to say, a shot in the arm for anyone with a dream that's bigger than the resources espoused by conventional horse-show wisdom!

As the Burn Turns

Like a lot of Americans, I'm having a hard time getting any work done today. I've been up since 3, clicking from news channel to news channel and surfing the Web for updates on the California fires. I hear names of places that I know to be homes for horse owners, and shudder to think of the trauma and devastation they face.

Had I not worked in Southern California for a number of years, I might not be so empathetic. I might find it easier to say, "Gee, too bad--but oh well, not my problem." I might be able to dismiss the situation as something I couldn't relate to very well.

As it is, I'm praying hard for people I know, and also for ones I've never met. And for their horses, too.

My Mom, Super-Saver

Last weekend, I took delivery of a box sent from my mom in North Dakota. The contents: Copies of horse-mag articles I wrote 25 years ago, in the first decade of my career. That's my mom for you--the ultimate super-saver. And I'm grateful that she has that particular bent.

I'd forgotten most of the stories, but didn't have copies of any of them. They were written long before the days of the personal computer, or digital filing systems, and there are only so many boxes of old nag-mags a person can haul around with her from one move to the next. I spent a good portion of the weekend getting re-acquainted with the writer I was half a lifetime ago.

This turned out to be quite the trip in my personal way-back machine. For one thing, it was amazing to see how many horse-world subjects haven't changed much. Twenty-five years ago, I was already covering such subjects as show-ring politics, the inability of Joe/Jane Average to compete against the wealthy, and the dilemma of what to do with color-breed horses born without the desired coat colors. For another thing, I was reminded of how many doors have been opened to me by virtue of having been born with the writer's knack.

I found the profile I wrote on Penny Tweedy, the woman who campaigned Secretariat to his Triple Crown victories, and who confessed the sibling upsets caused by her time in the limelight. I rediscovered the Q&A I did with superstar roper J.D. Yates, when he was just 25 and already a rodeo-matinee idol. I found my photo-tour piece on the L.A. Equestrian Center, complete with my account of meeting actor/horseman William Shatner--who kept his horses at LAEC, and who was clad in a pair of pink schooling chaps the day we met. I found the very first training series I wrote with uber-trainer Bob Avila, then barely in his 30s and already a world champion.

I never knew Mom had saved all these writings. That's how it is with moms, though--always doing the small things on the kids' behalf, and knowing it'll somehow, someday, be worth their going to the trouble.

The Big Fall Shows--On Your Radar?

This is the time of year when various breeds and equestrian sports have their major championship shows. The calendar's overloaded with such events as the U.S. Arabian Nationals, Morgan World Show, Appaloosa World Show, AQHA World Show, the NRHA (reining) and NCHA (cutting) Futurities, and so forth.

My question: Do you attend any of these shows, either as a competitor or as a spectator? If not, do you follow one or more of them via on-line broadcast--an option nowadays?

Or, do they not matter in your everyday scheme of things?

I'm just curious enough to want to take your pulse on this subject. And one more thing: If you were to win a sweepstakes and got to pick a major event to attend, all expenses paid, would you go to one? Which one?

All the Horses You've Ever Had

OK, here's a fun exercise for anyone looking for a work diversion (and those of you who surf blogs while at work know who you are!):

Name all the horses you've ever had. I don't believe I've ever committed my own list to print, so here goes.

JULI'S HORSES
Buttermilk (first pony, at age 7). Lad. Whiskey Man. Tony. Fox. Fanny. Bandit. Kojak. Pawnee. Rhett. Speed Limit. Lefty. Masterson. Robin. Brando. Buddy. Ace. Rodney. Luke. Sonny. Jackson. Fargo. Magic. Presley. Cowboy. Reddy. Friday. Flash. Teddy. Sister. Beau. Rebel. JJ. Tank. Trouble. Riley. Gussie. Starla. Carson. Nelson. Chanel. Tiffany.

Did I miss anybody?

A number of these were horses I acquired with intent to resell (I have quite the large extended family of horses living with later owners), and a few were horses I raised. One or two were given to me. The purchased ones ranged in price from $100 to $9,000--the latter distinction belonging to Ace, when I bought him the second time.

Your turn!

End of a Local Era

The day of the horse is over.

Or at least it's over as far as our Idaho town's longtime horse-goods purveyor is concerned. Earlier this week, everything in the store's equestrian inventory had its prices slashed in half for liquidation. The store will still sell camping gear, hunting/fishing equipment, and all manner of other sporting/outdoor goods--but the horse department is going away after serving the community for decades.

I suppose it's just another casualty of increased catalog and Internet shopping. Ours isn't the first locale where that's happened. Web-based stores have far more inventory and lower prices (if you don't count shipping fees--and many people don't, it seems, when bargain-hunting on the basis of item price alone). You can't blame a store manager for calling it quits on something when it doesn't yield enough profit to make it worthwhile to carry.

And perhaps there are fewer people now, at least in our area, who bother to keep horses. Perhaps there are fewer still who'll miss the convenience of stopping in for a fresh set of clipper blades, a halter for the new foal, a tube of dewormer, a set of saddle bags.

I joined a couple of friends to swoop in on the half-off sale, ready to stock my horse-pantry with shampoo, hoof conditioner, turnout blankets, and other goodies. But I felt more than a pang or two as I loaded up my cart.

Don't hunters have catalogs to shop from, too? And what does it say about the times we live in when a store can continue to carry boxes of bullets, but no longer finds it necessary to give shelf space to curry combs and hoof picks?

Assumptions About Bloodlines

Horsepeople have a lot of interesting tendencies, and here's one of them: making assumptions about bloodlines based on personal experience with only one or two individuals from an equine family. As in....

"The Doc Bars are hot. I had a Doc Bar granddaughter, and never did get her to calm down."

"Don't get a Driftwood if you don't have a lot of patience. They make good horses eventually, but they're hard-headed, like my gelding."

"The Dynamic Deluxes are busy-minded. I had two of them, and I swear, they sat up nights thinking of trouble to get into."

"Quincy Dan-bred horses are beautiful, but have a screw loose. My Quincy Dan mare walked by the same mailbox every day for years, and spooked at it every time."

I'm not sure where this stereotyping originates, but I find it odd that horsepeople will take it at face value when it's about horses, but will stand up and bristle if someone paints all Italians, all Irish or Polish descendants, all people of color, or whatever, with the same brush.

I just keep thinking about the equine full siblings I've raised--horses that couldn't be more different from one another in the temperament department if I'd planned it that way. Foaled in the same stall, handled exactly the same way, they exhibited their unique ways of behaving before they'd even dried off and stood up for the first time.

Just an aberration? Did I raise one baby typical of its bloodline, and another one that's a freak? Or is there more room for expression of individuality within a bloodline than popular wisdom might have us believe?

I Love It When...

...you have the kind of friends who, when they come to visit, want to go to the barn, first thing, to see how the horses are doing.
Gossip and refreshments can come later.

...I finally finish the last of my monthly writing assignments, and get to click the SEND button. Feels just like sinking into a warm bubble bath of relief.

...I get to transition from sequestered writer to active horse person again, with something horsey to go do, and real-live horses to interact with instead of the conceptual ones I ride while being in the deadline business for a living.

...a new issue of Horse & Rider comes in the mail. It's just as freshly satisfying for me to get my hands on the lastest as it is for any subscriber. Even though the other editors and I already know what's going to be in the issue, there's still no other experience like seeing the whole package come alive, page after page, right there in your hands.

Hmm--from our heads, to your hands!

The Autumn Barn Chores

Red-splashed trees and shrubs announce the season. It's autumn--that transitional time of year between summer and winter--and with time ticking until the first north-Idaho snows, that means tending to a special set of chores. I started in on them about a week ago.

First on the list was to finish priming and painting the run of board fence that'd been scraped and prepped, then abandoned when the call of summer horse-fun got too loud to ignore. I knew it needed doing before the late-fall rainy season hit, so I devoted one long, lovely afternoon to rolling on the white stuff.

Now it'll probably take half the winter for the paint to wear off my gelding Riley, who--Curious George type that he is--couldn't resist poking his nose and swishing his tail into the wet paint. Naturally, the wet-paint tail means he has white-paint streaks all over his butt, sides and hind legs--for a new variation on the reality that there's no longer any such thing anymore as a Quarter Horse with "excess white."

Then, after a final check on the supply of hay and bedding, I put in my time on the ladder. The barn gutters needed a good cleaning, and those fly-dirt-blackened light bulbs had to go. If there's anything I can't stand, it's a too-dark barn, so some new light bulbs were in order.

After many years at the end of a cold-water hose, I now have the luxury of a hot-water bathing area for horses, adjacent to the barn. Or at least, I have the luxury of one when the weather's above freezing. Next chore on the list was to give all the horses one last trip to the beauty parlor before draining the hot-water tank and the water lines. I've screwed up on this front a time or two, failing to shut the washrack down before the first big freeze and then having to repair busted lines. Lesson learned on that one!

Next, I went through my lotions, potions and other liquids--in the washrack, the horse trailer, and my tack room--to get them gathered up and stored in a no-freeze zone. There's nothing like opening your trailer, come spring, to find a burst bottle of hoof black all over your favorite something. Been there, done that, learned my lesson on this front as well.

There's still more to do, like putting rear-tire chains on the tractor, for snow traction, and reorganizing all the horse blankets. The process is somehow satisfying, though, as I get ready for another year's refrains of "let it snow."

B.A. Disease--Beware of Outbreaks!

Have you ever found yourself or friends to be infected by an outbreak of B.A. Disease?

B.A. stands for Bad Attitude, and I'll tell you what--when it gets going amongst a group of folks, horse people included, it can be some nasty stuff. And now that we have all our newfangled communication technologies, ranging from e-mail and Internet message boards to text-messaging and all the rest, it can spread faster than ever.

It seems to thrive best amongst those whose attitudinal immune systems are weakened by such forces as envy, jealousy, impatience, comparative lack of material means, or a just-in-general chip on the shoulder. Classic B.A. Disease symptoms: fault-finding, blame-gaming, finger-pointing, and fits of other-guy bashing. The amazing thing about it, to me, is how it compels its victims to go in search of others to infect. "Misery loves company," as they say.

To me, misery is something I want to put behind me as quickly as I can. So I don't really get why some of those with B.A. Disease insist on doing whatever they can to keep themselves (and others) constantly sick with it.

There's such a thing as Good Attitude Syndrome, too. And if you ask me, it's a whole lot nicer thing to spread--and to catch when it comes your way.