HALF BROKE HORSES by Jeannette Walls

Another blogger recently wrote a review on Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls, and I stood up at attention. A couple of years before I had read another book by Walls, The Glass Castle, and couldn't put it down. I remember taking my mother to an Arabian horse show in Santa Barbara, and she was getting pissy with me because I was so enthralled with reading The Glass Castle that I wasn't being very good company. The humor and irony in the fact that I was ignoring my own mother while reading that book is that The Glass Castle is about a highly dysfunctional family. I did throw a few tidbits my mother's way by reading some of the more astonishing stories out loud, and was sure to lend the book to her once I was done. I knew she'd appreciate the novel, as our own family is far from perfect. We have quite a few eccentrics and wayward souls hanging from our family tree too.

Half Broke Horses interested me not just because it was written by Jeannette Walls, but also because it had the word "horses" in the title. It is essentially the life story as passed down through word-of-mouth of Jeannnette's grandmother Lily Casey Smith, a horse breaking rancher, Chicago flapper, jilted lover, teacher notorious for getting fired from the worst jobs that no one wanted, poker-playing bootlegger, barn-storming pilot, wife and mother. Her journey takes us through New Mexico, Texas, Illinois and Arizona, and is written from the point-of-view of Lily, thus making it a true-life novel as opposed to a biography or memoir.

Lily is a truly likable person, spirited, outspoken, strong, and a survivor. It was interesting having Half Broke Horses follow The Glass Castle in publication, as it gives us a peek into the past when we already know the future of this family. We can see how Lily openly discourages Jeannette's parents from getting married, and for those of us who read The Glass Castle first, well... we know what a disaster that turned out to be.

I giggled over how Lily thought automobiles were a nuisance when they first came on the scene, scaring her horses as she rode them down the roads. She was even struck by a careless driver while crossing a city street, but eventually came to love racing around in cars herself. She also developed a desire to fly planes. I appreciated that she travelled weeks on horseback to reach a new job, but wondered how she could stand the smell of herself, going that long without bathing.

The level of poverty could be deceiving, as wealth seemed to be measured by this family based on how much open space they had, something I heartily agree with. Lily's family loved ranching, and strove to return to it even when so much was working against them. They experiemented with the city life, but preferred wide open spaces where they could wrangle cattle.

Lily's husband Jim became known as "The Parachuting Cowboy" when he parachuted out of planes during an uncharacteristic deep freeze in Arizona to help all these newcomers who came out west to ranch, but didn't know the first thing about raising cattle in the snow. He had to teach them to break the ice so the cattle could drink, and toss out flakes of hay shipped in from elsewhere since there was nothing edible on the ground.

The book carries a running theme regarding what is real and what is fake. Lily is quite proud of fake things, everything from her false teeth to the fake string of pearls she buys her daughter to give her the air of having a little class. Horse lovers will enjoy the scene in which Lily pretends to be a dim-wit about horses and allows a couple of pranksters to talk her into riding a wild bronc. She shocks them and instantly earns their respect with her ability to get control of that horse in no time.

I enjoyed the historic value of the book as well. Starting at the age of 15, without having completed her own education, Lily was often hired into teaching positions at one-room schoolhouses out in the middle of nowhere by Superintendent Grady Gammage. I found this interesting, as my daughter had a dorm room right across the street from Gammage Auditorium at Arizona State University last year. I'm sure this man had no idea he would someday have a building that is shaped like a cake named after him.

I recommend this book for a fast read. It was the first book I read on my new Amazon Kindle, which I will review in my next post. Stay tuned.

Ken McNabb

I saw a really good show on RFD TV the other morning. Of course I had to get up long before dawn to see it, but it was worth it. With so many horse training shows, the trainer pushes a horse around a pen saying, "Make your horse do this..." yet neglects to say HOW. It's not obvious just by watching a trainer what it is he is doing to make the horse do what he wants it to do. We all know that moving a horse, whether from the ground or the saddle, happens with very subtle cues that an average observer can't see.

On this show, Ken McNabb was helping out a lady who was afraid to ride, because two years before a dog attacked her horse on the trail. It was quite a nasty incident, as the dog aggressively chased the horse a long ways, biting at its fetlocks. The rider fell and broke many bones in her body, the horses kept running, and the dog kept biting. The horse was brought down by the dog several times during the chase. The rider spent a week in the hospital. She managed to work up the courage to ride the trails three times in two years after her recovery, but still needed professional help.

Ken McNabb's one-day lesson was probably better than six months in a therapy chair. First, he wanted to address the horse's fear. He lunged it in the round pen while a dog ran around the outside trying to herd the horse. Ken noticed that the horse didn't pay attention to the dog at all.

Next he brought a dog into the round pen with the horse and had it chase the horse around. Again, the horse wasn't concerned. (Mikey will love what comes next...) He then mounted the horse and had the dog jump up into the saddle with him. The horse stepped to the side to compensate for the weight of the dog climbing up its wither, but it didn't spook at all. Ken decided that the horse actually did not carry any residual fear from the incident two years before, but was probably still reacting to the rider's fear.

So, he had the rider mount the horse and ride while he stood in the center of the round pen with a dog on a leash. He taught the rider how to do a one-rein stop from a walk, then a trot, pulling the horse's head around and disengaging the hindquarters. He told her to imagine that she's being chased by a dog and she has to get that horse to turn and face the dog. At first her effort resulted in the horse circling. Ken said the dog could still follow the horse's hind end. She had to turn that horse in one quick movement.

Once she mastered that move, he and the dog started chasing her and the horse, and she had to turn the horse quickly to chase them. Ken escalated his aggression by smacking his coiled rope against his thigh and putting more bounce in his step, which caused the horse to break out of the trot into the canter. He told the rider, "You have to get control! Turn and chase me! Don't let me chase you!"

She spun from the canter, slowed to the trot and chased them. He then tried having the dog jump into the rider's lap, and the horse threw its head up and spooked sideways. He said, "The horse couldn't care less when the dog did that while I was riding him. You are transmitting you nervousness to the horse. You need to transmit confidence to the horse."

They broke it down by first picking up the dog and setting it in the woman's lap gently. They then let her get the feel of sitting on a horse with a dog in her lap, and the feel of the dog pushing off to jump down. Then they let the dog jump up on its own. At the point the rider was more comfortable with catching the dog and the horse relaxed.

Then without telling the rider what he was going to do next, he started throwing a big ball at the horse. This totally unhinged the rider and the horse went into a panic. He continued throwing this ball at the horse while horse and rider tried to get away. He said, "Think about it! What should you be doing?"

The previous lesson came back to her, and the rider spun her horse to face the ball. Soon the horse was walking toward the ball and taking head shots without an ounce of fear. Once Ken let go of the ball, the horse began kicking it around the arena. At first, I thought it was cruel of Ken to let the rider lose control of the horse like that, but then I realized that he had to let fear take over the rider in order for her to figure out how to recover. He won't be out there on the trail with her the next time some animal attacks her horse, so she has to rely on her own brain to tell her what to do.

He admitted that just because the horse didn't spook with him riding it in the round pen doesn't mean it won't spook out on the trail, but they have to start re-training the rider in a safe place and let it translate onto the trail. This was one of the clearest horse and rider training sessions I've seen. I'm going to try to catch more of his shows.

H2O

This was the state of things a few days ago...

This was the form of all this H2O this morning...

By noon, our yard was somewhere between snow, slush and mud. My husband laid down some wooden pallets to walk on as a plank in order to say out of the water puddles yesterday...

Gabbrielle was really good about letting me lead her past them without worrying too much. Usually, if you change one thing in the horses' environment, they automatically assume it is a predator.

Here is the melting snow that fell from the barn roof...

Some Slushy in the food troughs...

I must have known it was going to be a wet winter, because in the fall I worked on piling the manure really high in front of and around the edges of the stalls to dam up the water...

I left one corner uncovered so that I could dump dirty water out in the corner of the stall and let it flow outside. However, in the winter the water from outside flows inside...

I thought this picture was interesting. You can see the sun peeking out from behind the clouds in this water puddle...

Bombay looking cute, as always...

Guilty!

For weeks I've been trying to find the culprit of a crime that happens around 3:00 AM some mornings -- the crime being that someone or something has been terrorizing my horses. They start kicking their stalls and trying to jump out their windows, sometimes injuring themselves.

This morning I went outside and found the horses all worked up again. They were complete basket cases, quivering from head to toe, snorting, huffing, spinning in circles. Gabbrielle took a gash out of her face. Now I was really mad. I'm tired of my horses getting hurt, and I desperately wanted to catch the intruder in the act.

The problem is that catching the intruder meant sitting outside all night in the snow. This is not the ideal time of year to be doing a stake out. Plus I have to be at work in the morning. I can't afford to miss an entire night's sleep.

I went outside to put the horses in their stalls this evening and found all three of them on pins and needles. They were standing on their tip-toes, necks straight up in the air, tails curled over their backs, snorting nostril spray all over the place. The excitement was contagious, as all the horses in the neighborhood were suddenly growing an extra hand tall while letting off warning snorts.

I stood beside Gabbrielle, tracking the direction she was looking in by focusing on her eye and following its path. She was looking off in the distance at a field of sage brush. I trusted that something was out there, but I just couldn't see it.

I tried herding the horses into their stalls, but they just galloped around like fools. I put them all in the same pen, hoping that if one would go into its stall, the others would follow, but they just huddled together as far away from the field as possible. After some running around, Lostine finally went into her stall. I had to halter both Gabbrielle and Bombay to get them in, though.

I grabbed a pair of binoculars hoping to spot the culprit before the evening grew too dark. It was snowing and at the end of dusk. However, by the time I reached the fence, I didn't need the binoculars anymore. I could see the perps with my naked eye.

A herd of four deer stood on the other side of my neighbor's property, all looking at me, waiting to see what I was going to do. They were too far off for me to do anything at all, but if we hear any stall kicking tonight, I'm going out there to kick some deer butt and chase them off. This is really getting to be a problem. I don't want them coming around every night scaring the daylight out of my horses and running up my vet bills.

Deer are new around here. They usually don't come this far down out of the mountains. Does anyone have some suggestions (besides shooting them) that will discourage them from coming back?

Sunday Stills: Sports

I spent half the morning digging around in all my digital photo albums searching for pictures of my daughter pitching a softball. Years ago a sports photographer from the local paper took a picture of her pitching during a game, and it was the most amazing photograph I'd ever seen. First off, she was wearing an orange and black uniform, she had her mitt up in the air and the way it was poised made it look like a tiger paw about to swoop down on you. She had the fiercest expression on her face and her body was seemingly stretched beyond its limits while powering up in this pitch.

Several people saw that picture in the paper and commented that they hoped they would never have to be on the other end of one of her pitches. My daughter knew how to bring out terror in the eyes of batters. She played softball since she was in the first grade all the way through to her senior year of high school. When she was in middle school, she occasionally threw some wild pitches, especially while warming up. There was this one umpire who was always in the wrong place at the wrong time and she pegged him several times during warm ups and games. It got to the point where this umpire would say out loud, "Oh no! Look who's on the mound. I'm getting out of here."

Track season is starting soon, so I should be getting a slew of new pictures of my son pole vaulting. There really is an art to action photography, and with each sports season I learn a little more.

Just Whistle

Gabbrielle did the cutest thing at dinner tonight. The horses were putting themselves to bed by walking into their stalls, but Gabbrielle first wanted to eat some leftovers from her lunch that she had pushed through the gate out of reach. When I opened the gate to let her out, she walked a few feet and stopped to graze.

Normally, when the horses don't get a move on when I need them to, I crack my whip. However, there wasn't any rush tonight because we still had a few minutes of light outside, so I went about my business doing chores. Then when I was ready to go into the house I whistled for Gabbrielle.

I really didn't expect her to respond, but here she came walking around from the back of the trailer up the RV lane, smiling all the way. I expected her to walk right past me, but she stopped and reached out with her muzzle to give me a kiss on the lips. I said, "Awwww, that's so sweet! Now go to bed."

I pointed at her stall and she walked right in.

My husband said he was watching a television show on human and animal behavior, and it said one big difference between humans and apes or monkeys is that humans cooperate with each other. I told him they needed to include horses in that category with humans then. I know most horses can certainly be uncooperative at times, but if you consider how much cooperation is required from a horse to train it to be ridden or to pull a carriage or plow, I think horses are overall very cooperative animals.

It's a Comin'

If you live east of Nevada, it's a comin'. It's been snowing all week here, but yesterday's storm was the biggest so far. We finally got some sunshine today and the horses were so happy to be able to eat their breakfast on the patio.

They've been cooped up in their stalls most of the week.

One thing about eating off snow is that you don't have to worry about sand colic. Plus the horses get a little extra water with their hay.

Don't you love how the horses' tails drag in the snow? Good morning, Sunshine!

Even our junk pile looks pristine in the snow...

Our air conditioner is getting its own air conditioning...

The jagged teeth on our roof...

Our well house, which holds our water pump. Hopefully, we won't have to worry about our well running dry this year...

One mistletoe you don't want to stand under...

One tree always has to break under the weight of the snow...

Road conditions...

My son has been driving my 4WD truck with snow tires to and from school. I realized this morning as I saw him drive off just before dawn with his headlights off that I forgot to inform him that the truck doesn't have automatic lights like his little car. You have to manually turn them on.

Lisa of Laughing Orca Ranch asked about the barn names for my horses. I have a whole slew of barn names, nicknames or pet names for my horses. Here they are...

Lostine: Stiney, Lostine the Beauty Queen, Miss Piggy.

Bombay: Bomber, Mr. Beasley, Bamboozled, Bombeasley, Dude, Puppy Boy.

Gabbrielle: Bunny, Fuzz Bucket, Little Girl.

Believe it or not, even with all those names, the horses know which one of them I'm talking to.

The Story Behind the Names

KD of Zambito Oaks Farm in Florida asked how Lostine got her name. I'm glad you asked, KD, because it gives me something to post about other than the weather here in Nevada.

Lostine is my mare's registered name with the Arabian Horse Association. She was foaled on 5/20/1988. By the time I acquired her, she had so many owners who primarily used her for breeding and showing at halter that I didn't have her full story. However, considering that she was bred by an Arabian horse farm in Portland, Oregon, and there is a city in Oregon called Lostine, I suspect they got the name from the city.

For those of you who are familiar with the Arabian breed, Lostine's dam was May Oui by Negatraz and Widar. Her sire was Enrilo by Probat and Emisja. As you can tell by the names, she comes from a purely Polish bloodline.

Here's a story about Lostine I've never told here. The rumor is that she was once owned by a woman who robbed banks around Reno to support her drug habit. When the woman finally got caught, her horses were auctioned off. That's how my friend was able to add Lostine to her breeding program, and she got some really fine fillies out of her over the years. Now those fillies are having even finer fillies, so Lostine is a grandma. You'd never know, though, with all that fire in her.

Bombay's registered name is Bombay SS. The SS are the initials of the farm where he was bred. He was born on 4/7/1998, his sire was Khutty Sark by Khemosabi and Endless Summer, and his dam was S R Aziza by S R Travis and Kaylaka. He is what we call a domestic Arabian horse since most of his bloodline came from within the United States.

His breeder told me that since his bay sire's name was Khutty Sark, which is a scotch whiskey, they decided to name Bombay after a gin since he was going to be gray in color. Bombay was born a bay like his sire, but turned into a flea-bitten gray like his dam.

Gabbrielle's registered name is GAA Gabbrielle, where the GAA stands for the name of the breeding farm. She was foaled on 3/4/2005. Her sire was Sterling Bey by Bey Shah and Parada Fancy. Her damn was Subtle Diversion by Kaiyoum and Baskina-Tu. Kaiyoum is a Khemosabi son, so Gabbrielle is in the same general family as Bombay. She also has a lot of Bask in her pedigree like Lostine.

Her breeder told me she chose the name Gabbrielle because it means beautiful. Since then, I've done my own research on the name and found that Gabbrielle means heroine of God. Regardless, there is no doubt that Gabbrielle is both beautiful and a heroine of God.

Case in Point

Pictures my son took this morning...



Pictures I took this afternoon...

Unpredictable Mother Nature

Yesterday it snowed all day, so I kept the horses in their stalls. Today it was supposed to snow all day, but only threatened to do so. I let the horses out one at a time to clean their stalls, but Bombay refused to go back in. He had cabin fever and wasn't about to spend one more minute in that box. So, I let Lostine out in hopes that she would chase him back into his stall, but she ended up totally supporting Bombay in his choice to stay outside. Now I had two horses that I couldn't get back into their stalls.

Gabbrielle was easy. All I had to do was walk into her stall with a peppermint in my hand, and she followed. Bombay and Lostine weren't going to fall for that, though, and I was too lazy to hike through the snow all the way back to the tack room to get a halter. So, I decided that if Bombay and Lostine wanted to stay outside, they were going to have to get their exercise in the process. I chased them all over the place, and they got their ya-yas out.

A while later I put flakes of hay in each stall, but the dorks still wouldn't get inside. They stood at their outdoor feed troughs waiting for me to put the food in there. I didn't. I walked back into the house, mailed a bill payment, made some lunch for myself, etc. and when I got back outside, they were still standing over their outdoor troughs neighing at me while Gabbrielle was happily munching away in her stall.

I gave up and grabbed the halter at that point. No problem getting them in then. After their lunch, the sun actually came out and started melting all that snow. I guess that big storm missed us today. So, I led the horses out of their stalls to their pens. Gabbrielle balked halfway between a loud drip coming from the bottom of the horse trailer and the hay tarp snapping in the wind. She didn't know which way to spook, so she jumped in all directions at once. I just wanted her to stay out of my lap.

It's scary leading a teleporting horse through a narrow passageway. There are two places it can end up: Next to you or on top of you. Fortunately, she lowered her head in submission and walked nicely beside me once she realized there was nothing to worry about.

I spent most of the day trying to guess what the weather was going to do. I felt that as soon as I let the horses outside, it would rain or snow. However, by not letting the horses eat outside, I almost guaranteed that the sun would come out. I look forward to the day when these hour-by-hour weather forecasts are actually accurate.

Bombay Gets the Job Done

We were blessed with a few glorious hours of sunshine today, so I removed the horses' blankets, put them together in the paddock and let them roll in the mud. They were happy to see me until...

...I brought out the dreaded rattling hot pink hula hoop. Lostine snorted and said, "Get that thing away from me!"

Gabbrielle threw her tail up over her back and snorted to warn all the horses in the neighborhood of impending doom.

Both girls took off at a fast trot that broke into a gallop.

I chased them around a bit, but eventually Gabbrielle stopped to gather her wits and get a good look at it.

Bombay just stood around calmly wondering what the big deal was about.

Bombay says, "See Dobbie girl, I can stick just one ear up into the air too!"

Let's have a moment of silence while Bombay shows us how it's done...



What a pro! Then there's the mares...

...still running. Where you going, Lostine? What's the big hurry?

Lostine worked up such a big sweat, that I tossed the hula hoop on the ground and petted her to settle her down. When I turned around, this is what I found...

Bombay has never been one to pass up a new toy.

He began carrying it toward me, so I thought he was playing fetch...

But then he walked right past me and headed over to where the mares were now grooming one another.

He dropped it, but picked it right back up and continued on his journey...

And he promptly spanked Gabbrielle in the butt with the hula hoop.

Amazingly, despite frantically running from me when I had the hula hoop, Gabbrielle stood still and allowed Bombay to hang that hoop on her butt. Leave it up to Bombay to accomplish something I couldn't do myself. I laughed really hard and gave them both a ton of praise.

Sorry, D-Meister. I promise I'll buy you a new hula hoop. Let's just say it's not as aerodynamic as it used to be.