Horses And Resistance

I'm so proud of my problem filly. I was getting some tack together in preparation for moving my horses to a better barn. My brother, who is afraid of horses was getting the trailer ready. Then, he loaded my Arab, because she is very cooperative. Next, he decided to load problem filly. She hopped on like an old cow and didn't bat an eye even when a piece of Milar plastic that had somehow gotten into my trailer blew up under the feet of both horses. The Arab temporarily checked out for about 3 seconds, but Misty just walked calmly onto the trailer. All my brother did was run the rope through the front and pull lightly. It was amazing how well she did.

I have no doubt that she was so good, because the first time we loaded her we didn't allow for much in the way of resistance. I train all of mine to always go forward with a crack on the ass. So for her first loading, I used a rope halter and long lead. I ran the lead through the front of the trailer and handed it to my brother. He took all the slack out of the rope, and Misty stepped forward. She calmly walked halfway on and stopped. We let her stand with no pressure for about 10 seconds. My brother gently tightened the rope up again. The filly gave her head, but refused to walk forward. Furthermore, she started to sit back on the halter. I gave her a swift one before she could really get going, and she hopped the rest of the way in.

By defeating the initial resistance, we made the second loading go off without a hitch. Now, it is ingrained in her mind that she goes onto the trailer and saying "no" is not an option. This also helped her to realize that any resistance against the halter is futile, and she is now much lighter, She leads anywhere without balking. My experience is teaching me that your first chance to teach a horse something is the only chance to really solidify it in their head without having to deal with major problems. I'll take a wild adult horse over a spoiled one who knows that there is a way out of something other than submission.
The same principle applies to teaching a horse to accept farrier work. My filly had never had her feet trimmed. I am surprised that her feet weren't terrible and her legs weren't more crooked as a result. Here's what I did:
I planned ahead and scheduled the farrier like I normally do for my Arab. This filly would squeal and attempt to strike anyone messing with her front legs. Rather than try and try to pick up and hold her feet, I fitted a front leg strap. This is simply an old stirrup leather wrapped in a figure 8 around her leg so as to hold the front foot off the ground. I had touched all her legs a lot with ropes and a lunge whip, so she wasn't too upset as long as I put it on quickly. I then went out to the end of my long lead rope and waited.

Mr. No Dangles

I had a perty studcolt and he'd prance fer me,
When he saw a mare.
I'd put a studchain on him when I took him out,
But he didn't care.
He hurt me real bad,
I mean bad,
So I called it a day.
The next day I picked up the phone and I called the vet,
Said I was down 'n out.
The colt would need to soon be freed of swinging bits,
There was no doubt.
The doc was on call,
He removed the balls,
And the mares they still grieve...
Mr. No Dangles,
Mr. No Dangles,
Mr. No Dangles at last!

Anyone else have silly words to famous songs?
Have fun!!

Falling

After my daughter's birth, i found infant care surprisingly easy. She was very mellow and sleepy, but she had a powerful suck and was easily latched onto the breast with little frustration from either of us. The policy for me was hands off for everyone until I learned how to do things for myself. I have always been comfortable with very physical hands-on tasks so I never had any fear of dropping her or not being able to keep her clean and dry. The same nurses who let me act instinctively during the birth were content to sit back and let me figure out how to accomplish basic mothering tasks. For this I was greatful, and I left the birthing center feeling confident even through the normal exhaustion that comes with a new baby.
The first week was hard since I had so many stitches that it made walking or sitting for long periods difficult. My husband was wonderful, and he kept me supplied with good food and a hot bath whenever I needed it for the pain. He stayed up with her when I absolutely needed sleep. We began to get on a good schedule by the time she was about a month old.
Then, I started feeling strangely. When I would put her down for a nap, I knew I should also take one but I began to feel paranoyed that she would wake without me getting any sleep. It didn't matter how zonked out she was. I began to imagine all sorts of ghastly things happening to her while I looked on helplessly: my baby being tossed off a building while I waited below for her to splatter on the cement, that tiny body somehow ending up in the middle of the highway waiting to be run over, my helpless infant put in a bathtub that was slowly filling with water and me unable to retrieve her. When I would nurse her the milk and the tears and the sweat would pour from me until i was sure I would dry up and die. One day my husband found me in such a state and asked me what was wrong. I couldn't voice the fear and despair I was experiencing so I just shook my head. He walked out of the room, and that is when the doors began to slam inside me.

The Descent Part 1

I didn't plan to have a child until at least my late 20s. I took what is considered a very efective percaution against pregnancy, but I was one of the .1% for whom it wasn't enough. I started to suspect I might be pregnant, but my periods were never regular no matter what, and I spotted a little on and off. The tightness and pain in my breasts came first followed by bone deep tiredness which I have never experienced since those first few months of gestation. I didn't want anyone I knew to find out until I was ready for them to know. So I went to the student clinic at the university where I was studying and asked a nurse to run the test. She came back 30 seconds after leaving with my sample and confirmed my suspicions. Once I knew that I was pregnant, my child was wanted. That's just the response I had.
Of course my fammily was shocked and concerned, but I made it clear that my boyfriend and I were raising this child no matter what, with or without support. I told anyone who was disrespectful or condescending that they were welcome to their opinions, but they would not be included in the child's life unless they treated me with respect. I had no morning sickness, but I was really tired a lot. I sought out a nurse midwife to care for me, and she was a perfect fit. She thought like me: if it ain't broke, don't fix it. I wanted a birth that was free of unnecessary interferance, and I hate needles to the point of sweating and feeling lightheaded.
I was ready to accept labor in all it's exscrutiating glory. My by now husband was very excited about having an active role in the birth as bringer of nourishment and provider of massage and hot compresses. In the last month before delivery, I devoured copeous amounts of guacamole and Indian and Thai curry. Fried flour tacos and lemonberry slushes from Sonic rounded out my antenatal diet.
When labor hit, we just stayed home and chilled out. He put on Indian flute music and we curled up with some hot tea. When I started to really get uncomfortable, he cooked me some pasta with spinach and parmesan, and I paced around and started contorting myself into bizarre positions in order to relieve the pain in my lower back. I finally resorted to crawling around and hollowing my bakc when the pain got bad. My labor had started about 3 a.m. on Saturday morning, and by about 6 p.m., I was really starting to hurt. I was coping pretty well, but my husband was getting a little concerned. He called my mom, and a huge contraction hit when she picked up the phone. I started groaning, and she told the man to pack me into the car and head for the birthing center. I think I would have had the baby at home, because I really didn't want to leave the comfort of my own home. It didn't even occur to me that I needed to go some time. I arrived at about a quarter to 7, and got settled in. They wanted to put me in the bed on a monitor, but I must have looked crazed enough to where they brought out the handheld monitor and never asked again. The man was putting most of his weight on my lower back, but the pain kept getting worse. I remember sitting on a huge rubber ball and that helped with a lot of the pain. However my back hurt so badly that I got in a very warm bath. That helped, but there was no rest for the weary. My body took over, and I really started trying to push the baby out. I was still in the tub and with the acoustics of the bathroom I sounded like a cross between a constipated cow and the Hound of the Basquervilles. Somehow, I dragged myself out of the water and promptly squatted on the floor with another huge contraction. The midwife was not worried, and no one interfered with my desire to move around and do whatever I wanted. My husband just made sure I didn't fall over. I eventually ended up on the bed laying on my side. The baby was born at 10:15 p.m. The head started screaming even before the body was out. The midwife didn't allow any hands on me or my baby while it was coming out so I birthed my own child into my hands. I said "hi" to the baby and reached down to feel the sex. I was so exhausted and sleep deprived that when I touched the cord, I thought I had a boy. lol! I tried again, and discovered we had a girl. She howled nonstop until i started nursing her about 5 minutes after she was out. They didn't clean her off for a while. She smelled very sweet and had lots of fuzzy black hair.
Besides a rather nasty tear that required a lot of sewing, things went very well throughout the birth. But, I knew something was broken inside of me....

My Halter Ego

This is my 15-year-old Arab mare. I have owned her since she was three. Tessa is sweet, but she's not a pushover and will not tolerate poor handling. Up until the last three years, I have always used a leather halter on her. If she got close to being on top of me, a bump on the lead was sufficient to sort her out. If she refused to be lead somewhere, it didn't take much to change her mind.
I bought a rope halter for her and noticed that she was even lighter and more responsive. Bear in mind that this mare has never been heavy. When I put her in a rope halter, it was almost like there was no horse on the lead. However, lately she has decided that if I go to catch her with the rope halter, she will not make it easy. If I show up with her leather one, she is right there waiting to get caught. I am starting to wonder if I may have hurt her with the rope one. I don't need to rip on her face or hang on her to get a response, but I tied her up about a month ago while I went to catch my filly. She has never had tying issues, but I am worried that she might have pulled back when I wasn't there and possibly hurt her poll. She is a lot mor defensive now when I put on the rope halter; her head is high and her back is dropped and tense. Has anyone else ever experienced something like this? I am even considering switching my filly into a leather halter to see if she is more comfortable. She has definitely needed the rope one in the past, but she is very soft on the lead now.
I guess this is one of those times where if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Unfortunately, it took the probable injury of my horse to get it through my thikc head.
Rope halters aren't always such a gentle, touchy-feely piece of equipment.

Crazy Horse Or Crazy People?

I was a one horse wonder for several years. I boarded my Arab mare at a nice barn and all was well. One day my brother mentioned that his neighbor had a piece of fenced pasture for rent. I would have to do my own care, but it was a great opportunity for my horse. When I went out to chekc the place over, there was a ragged-coated black weanling wandering the pasture. I inquired about her. Apparently the owner of the land had been at an auction looking at farm equipment when a rack of bones mare and her filly were brought into the ring. They were owned by some people who had kept them in a drylot with nothing but pinetrees and rocks. When they ran out of money, the lactating mare lost condition and had to feed on the trees. So the owner of the pasture bid on the pair and got them for $100. The mare was docile, but the filly was wild and defensive. The mare was given to a friend to fatten up, but the filly was just put out on the pasture and left to her own devices.
Anyway, I took the filly and with the help of a good roping horse got her passibly halterbroken. She had been teased and tormented by a few kids and some guys who thought it was funny when she snapped at them and chased them. I set about training her to accept hobbles and rear leg restraint in preparation for a visit from the farrier. This training also has a positiveeffect on the psyche of every horse I have used it on. It instills respect and encourages the horse to think about problems instead of struggling. I know it works, because she stood perfectly for her first ever trim the day after I impleminted the training. She is relatively easy for me to handle; she loaded right up in the trailer when it came time to move her and my mare to their current digs.
Anyway, this move was brought about by the antics of the filly who was named Misty when I took over her care. misty didn't like anyone very much. She had this dirty habbit of nipping and running off. (it's not like any other young horse has ever done these things) She was most aggressive over the fence and toward men. She was much easier for me to deal with after I got her trained to lead and stand for the farrier, because I was consistent and tried to be fair. I didn't play games with her or stuff her full of treats to get her to like me. However she became destructive to property. This involved tearing up a Ford Escort that I recommended not be parked in the pasture. The land owner had played with and teased her so much that he couldn't safely go inside the fence anymore.
To b continued.

As of This Morning....

A family was shattered. I work as a switchboard operator on the airforce base. I handle a wide variety of calls from high ranking officers wanting to get in touch with airman in their squadron to young men calling from the Middle East to say hi to a family member. So it didn't surprise me when a gentleman called in the early afternoon wanting to speak with the base commander. Now, most people who just call me up and ask for the commander are put through to his secretary and that's as far as they get. Usually these people have complaints and feel they are entitled to voice them to the top ranking officer on the base. They are often presumptuous and/or rude to me and whomever else they happen to speak with. This man was different. He was calm and polite to me. So I rang the secretary's line, but no one picked up. I had to take other calls so I disconnected myself from the call thinking he would leave a message or call back. Here I must digress again to say that when people have me connect a call and they don't get an answer, they blame it on me. Apparently I am supposed to ensure that the other party will be there and answer the phone no matter what. And Heaven forbid the line is busy! Anyway, I hung up and continued taking calls. About 5 minutes later, my boss received a call from the same gentleman. I overheard a bit of the conversation, but I assumed that he was giving her a hard time for not getting through. I rolled my eyes and did not think charitable thoughts. When she got off the phone, my boss calmly told me that this caller was the father of an officer on the base who had died unexpectedly this morning. He was only 48, and he had a family. His father was making the call that no parent ever wants to make. Here I was assuming the worst about a person, ans he who was living every parent's worst nightmare was treating my boss and I with respect. I really thought I was having a bad day. I can't shake the sick feeling in my heart. I can't imagine outliving my child.
Please hug your loved ones. Please remember your situation could always be worse than it is.