Practice Makes Perfect

Once upon a time, I wanted every ride to be perfect. I would get frustrated with my horses if they didn't behave the way I wanted them to. That frustration would spoil my mood and neither of us would enjoy the ride.

Then we had a baby. Punkin Pie.

I've been privileged to be a part of Punkin's life since her conception. An experience I dreamed about since childhood.
The dream was always to be there from the beginning and develop a magical bond that spanned the decades. The goal of perfect rides ceased to exist the day I brought her home.

While I use all the lessons the horses that came before taught me, every day I wish I could go back in time and share the lessons she's taught me with them.

We were both sore and tired today.

I thought about a rest day. When I caught her in the paddock her reluctance to move forward suggested that she was thinking about a rest day too.

Thankfully I had planned a restful type ride.

She came out the paddock like a dead broke old mare and stood patiently in the spot where I brush her.

She took the saddle beautifully and even showed more maturity in having her girth done up. We walked down to the arena and she barely walked around me when I asked her to lunge.

Today was the perfect day to work on mounting.
I led her over the tiny collapsible stool that normally resides in the root cellar. It's not the ideal stool for mounting which made it the ideal stool for training.

While she has been good enough for my old standards I'm learning that perfection comes from polishing the not-so-perfect areas of the ride before. Mounting seems to be the thing we need to polish most right now.
I stood on the narrow top of the step and asked her to scoot over to me.

She did.

I checked the girth. Still snug. I put my foot in the stirrup and slid down the side of her.

I didn't fall this time, thank goodness, but it was apparent that using the stirrups to mount will not be possible until she develops a wither or I have a saddle made to fit her back extra wide back.

We were going to have to develop a system of working together to get me on in a way that worked for both of us.

I asked her to scoot over again and she did. This time I put my leg on her back and waited to see what she would do. She left.

We did this over and over again while I thanked my lucky stars that I was clever enough to include standing on one foot in my workouts.

For the next 20 minutes we practiced standing there with my leg over her. I teetered on the tiny stool while she sorted out what the goal was.

It finally clicked. She stopped moving away and now it was my turn to hop on as carefully as possible.

My first attempt was a flop. With my hop lacking the conviction of confidence there wasn't enough power to get my plus-sized butt up and into the saddle.

Slowly I slid down her side, saddle in hand. Once again I did not fall.

I took off the saddle, readjusted it, and tried again.

This time I hopped with confidence. She started to move. I started to slip sideways. Then she stopped and braced herself as if helping me on.
Success! I got my leg over and asked her to stand. She did. I gave her a cookie, which came as a surprise to her. It's been a long time since I gave her a cookie. Nothing stops her faster than food, and I find no shame in the odd bribe.

We practiced a few more times and then when we were both feeling a little bored I decided it was time for a nice walk.

Today let her graze on the lush green grass that grows on the shoulder of Bayview Drive. It was after all a restful ride day.

While she snacked I soaked in the sunshine and watched the light glisten off the Pacific Ocean. The tide was high, filling the inlet with a blanket of shimmering beauty.

We puttered away snacking and gazing as we went.

We turned around. No stress poop. Maybe I would get away without having to get off and kick poop off the road.

We continued along our way and then she stopped and pointed her but into the ditch and dropped her road apples.

Crap. I was going to have to get off.

Despite it being mostly in the ditch the last thing I want to do is lose the privilege to ride in the village. Off I got to kick the poop all the way into the ditch.

The closest object to remount was a park bench about half a kilometer in the direction we had just come from.

I turned her around and we started walking to the bench. She was a little offended at first but got over it quickly.

The bench we use for mounting in that part of the village cuddles the shore of the inlet.

Punkin, having been splashed once by a high tide still finds the water offensive.

This was going to be quite the test of our new mounting skills.

I climbed onto the back of the bench and asked her to scoot over. She did and as soon as my leg went over she moved.

Rebalancing myself I asked again.

She moved again and gave the ocean a good glare.

The third time she let me on.

However, as soon as I was on she started moving away again. My legs clenched. Her head went up. I remembered our recent bucking episode and quickly relaxed my legs.

She relaxed but kept moving forward in hopes of escaping the water's edge. I pulled out a treat.

"Whoa" I said as I sat deep and waited for her to respond. When she did I tapped her on the side of the neck and offered her the treat. She stopped long enough to grab the snack. We escaped the ocean without getting splashed and continued heading home.

The rest of the ride was nice and quiet. She offered a trot but I declined keeping the spirit of the restful ride.