Saturday Morning Trail Ride

I knew this was going to be a busy weekend, so on impulse I loaded Lostine up in the horse trailer first thing Saturday morning to head off for the canyon. She's getting so much better about allowing herself to be caught, standing still for me while I put on her boots, and not kicking and pawing the in the trailer.

I would have liked to have taken Bombay, but the cut on the ball of his ankle keeps breaking open and bleeding. I want it to be fully healed before trailering him anywhere.

Lostine and I met two teenage boys with a GPS and compass who were lost. I gave them directions to where they needed to go. There were a lot of teenagers heading off on hikes in small groups, so I suspect some kind of organization was having a get together on the peak.

I met up with joggers and told them that I find it so amazing that they can jog the mountain trails. I hike up a pretty steep incline for the first half-mile and I'm out of breath by the time I reach the bench that I mount from. They said it is hard and they usually walk up and jog down.

When Lostine and I entered a deeply wooded area and stopped to rest in the shade, I heard a low growl and looked around, but didn't see any movement in the bushes or trees.

I'm a little more wary about trail riding so deep in the Sierra now, because when I was at the vet's office they had a bunch of pictures on display of dogs who had been bit by rattlesnakes. I've always been told there are no rattlesnakes in our area. I guess I was told wrong, so now I have to keep an eye out for them while trail riding and hiking.

Also, I saw a TV show in which a man was ambushed by a mountain lion. The amount of damage that mountain lion did to his head in just a few seconds was staggering. The man ended up being able to pull his knife out of his boot and slash the mountain lion's throat, but he ended up having to get his scalp and ear sewn back on, and is now without an eye. I know we have mountain lions and bears down here in the valley. Sometimes the mountain lions get up on people's roofs.

So, after hearing the growl and studying the trees, I moved Lostine further down the mountain. We stopped again and I heard that low growl again. "Is a bear stalking us?" I wondered. I didn't smell anything to suggest that a large animal was around and Lostine wasn't nervous.

We moved even further down the mountain, stopped in some shade and there was that low growl again, only this time I pinpointed where it was coming from: Lostine's hungry belly! Ha ha.

These are some of the reasons why I like to ride this trail system:

No motorized vehicles and signs that educate visitors:


It was a good thing I went trail riding this morning instead of waiting for Sunday, because when I got home I found out that we will be having unexpected guests visiting over the next few days.

Thank You

I wanted to thank everyone for your supportive comments regarding Making an Unpopular Call. I almost didn't tell my story because I was afraid people out in Blog Land would judge and condemn me too. However, you all have restored my faith in mankind. The good outnumber the bad. I just find it so ironic how if we euthanize elderly people who are suffering, we go to prison, while if we don't euthanize our pets within a time range that someone else thinks is appropriate, we are scorned. I'm not saying it should be one way or another -- just that sometimes we as humans don't make sense.

The experience with Monty dredged up old wounds regarding the death of my father. My mother had been taking him to his doctor, telling her something was wrong with him, and the doctor just kept dismissing his complaints as being symptoms of old age. When my mother described his complete personality change, the doctor prescribed treatment for depression. Then I visited my parents after not seeing them for six months and could clearly see that my father was dying. I checked him into a hospital where it was discovered that he had cancer in just about every organ and every bone in his body, including a brain tumor that affected his personality. My mother and I got hit with that same question, "Why did you wait so long to bring him in?"

The answer to that question was that my father was a private person so he didn't complain openly about how much pain he was in, my mother was friends with his doctor and believed in her, while I lived 400 miles away and was not informed of my father's illness. It's perfectly logical, but not an answer I would have provided to anyone who asked us such an accusatory question.

Two completely different stories, but both resulted in that loaded question that has no purpose other than to lay blame and guilt on the loved ones. I figured there would be a handful of people in Blog Land who would try to tell me when the best time would have been to euthanize my dog, but you made me proud. Not a single person pretended to be a holier-than-thou know-it-all. Thank you for that.

I just wanted to respond to a few comments. I've been taking my pets to this vet clinic for about 14 years. The reason why they don't know me personally is because the staff keeps changing. Each time I go in, I get a different doctor, a different vet tech, and a different receptionist. I used to be able to get in for appointments on the same day I call, but with so many people moving into our area, that vet clinic is a madhouse now. They told me to just bring Monty in, because they didn't have any available appointments and everyone on staff had to work through lunch anyway because it was such a busy day. Everyone in that office seemed haggard and angry about being overworked. I'm planning on looking for a smaller, more personable private practice where the staff sticks around and is willing to get to know clients on a first name basis.

I'm not very good about confronting people. Every time I do it, it backfires. One time I confronted a supermarket manager for stocking his shelves with baby food that had mold on top of it. He got really angry and said, "What do you want from me? You probably pulled that moldy baby food out of your own kitchen cabinet and are trying to get money out of me with false claims."

I was aghast. I said, "No, I just bought this baby food yesterday. Here's the receipt. I want to exchange it for fresh jars, and I want you to take all the expired baby food off your shelves."

Another time I talked to the manager of our local swim center, because I was annoyed that I was paying for a half-hour swim lesson, and my daughter's swim instructor kept starting class 10 minutes late and ending it 5 minutes early. The last straw was when my daughter nearly drowned because the swim instructor was too busy flirting with her boyfriend to pay attention to her class. A lifeguard had to rescue her. I thought the manager would support me, but he started making excuses for his swim instructor, telling me to give her a break because she's been having a hard time lately. Again, I was aghast. My child almost drowned, and he's telling ME to cut HER some slack?

Somehow every time I confront someone, they turn it around on me and try to convince me that I'm the problem. Therefore, I don't expect that anyone at the vet hospital would take any complaint I have seriously. It's the Nevada way to protect one's own at all costs. Customers don't matter -- only friends and employees. That vet hospital gets so much business that they couldn't care less if they lose mine. I'll still let them know why I'm leaving, but I don't expect to get any satisfactory results out of it. I find that nowadays, people get away with much worse behavior either because there are no consequences or because we're raising a society of sociopaths who just don't care. I know I should have delivered the consequence myself at the time I was being treated disrespectfully, but I was pretty listless, overwhelmed and overstimulated during the experience. All my thoughts and reactions were delayed. My sadness and humiliation weren't replaced by anger until I was long gone.

I've been keeping an eye on Midge to see how she's handling having her buddy missing. She normally ignores me and hangs out with the boys, but she's been following me around lately. I'm not sure if it is because she knows I was the last person Monty was with and she expects him to reappear around me, or if she senses my sadness and is trying to take care of me. I call her "Nurse Midgey" and "Doctor Midge", because she becomes very concerned when her people are not themselves. She spends a lot of time licking us and cuddling up to us.

In the meantime, I've got plenty of other things going on to keep me busy like training Gabbrielle and fixing up my photography studio. My daughter has been living with other families in China this summer while on an internship for work abroad university credit. Our communications have been limited, so it will be good to have her back home this evening and hear all her stories of her experience. I'm so proud of her. While I've never been outside the United States, she just made all the arrangements to go to China, paid for the entire trip herself, embraced the people she met along the way and learned both the culture and language while there. Call it a crash course in survival. She's so brave.

Again, thank you for your supportive comments. I didn't even know that many people read my blog. I feel so loved.

Making an Unpopular Call

My Shetland Sheepdog Monty has been on the slippery slope of old age for some time now. First he started showing signs of going deaf, but would you put a dog to sleep just for being deaf? I wouldn't. Then he started acting senile. We don't end people's lives just because they have Alzheimer's Disease, so why put a dog down for being ditsy? Then he started struggling to get up and down stairs. Plenty of elderly people need assistance getting up and down stairs, but we don't kill them. I prefer to let aging animals tell me when they are ready to go. I don't like to make that decision for them.

Monty was not showing any signs of being in pain. He didn't squeal, groan, or snap at me when I picked him up. He was just an old dog. Then he lost interest in dry dog food, so we fed him wet dog food, which he happily consumed. Eventually, he tired of wet dog food, so we started feeding him people food. Sometimes a pet stops eating because it is in pain, other times a pet just gets finicky about the types of food it eats. Our other dog Midge saw Monty getting wet food and she stopped eating dry food, so she could get wet food too. Then she stopped eating the wet food when she saw Monty getting people food. I said to my family that we need to consider putting Monty to sleep if he stops eating all together, but they felt he still had some spunk and spark in him.

Eventually he did stop eating all together and wasn't strong enough to walk long distances. It was time. I loaded him up in the car and took him to the vet. He needed to be lifted in and out of the car and carried up and down stairs, but otherwise he could waddle short distances. Some man was standing in the parking lot staring at me as I struggled to lift Monty out of the car. Despite Monty's lost appetite, he still weighed plenty. The man didn't offer to help. He just stared at me, making an already uncomfortable situation even more uncomfortable.

I walked Monty to the steps in front of the vet hospital, and then bent over to lift him up. I looked through the glass door and saw two women who worked there just standing and staring. I expected one of them to at least get the door for us, but no, they just stood and stared like the man in the parking lot.

When we reached the waiting area, Monty laid down on the slippery tile floor while I talked to the receptionist. Another lady came out to get Monty. She inspected the way his leash was attached, started to chew me out for having the collar on incorrectly, then saw I did have it on the right way and just said "Oh" instead of apologizing. I am a responsible dog owner. I've taken plenty of obedience training courses that showed me how to arrange leashes, collars and choke chains.

The woman grabbed his leash and tried to walk off, but he couldn't get up from that slippery floor. I stopped her from dragging him and said that he needs help getting up. I lifted him, but he couldn't get traction and just kept sliding back down to the floor. The woman snapped at me and said she would handle it. She acted like I had no right touching my own dog since I had made the decision to end his life. Then she stood up and yelled, "We need a stretcher here!"

All eyes in the waiting room turned accusingly at me. I was horrified that this woman at the vet hospital couldn't be more discreet. The receptionist angrily picked up the phone and yelled into the receiver, "Is there anyone back there who has time to bring out a stretcher?"

The vet tech marched over to the receptionist and started whispering mean things about me when I was sitting just three-feet behind her. She clearly did not care if I overheard. It became obvious to me that the two women had intended to make a spectacle of me with their yelling, because now they were having no problem whispering. Then another voice rose from behind the counter and said, "Why do they always wait this long to bring them in?"

She made no attempt to disguise her disgust with me. I was quickly becoming the target of mass harassment. One minute they were acting like they were too busy to help my dog up, but now they were making time to gossip and judge me. They carried him off while I was paying the bill. I had said I didn't want to be there when they put him to sleep, because I didn't think I could emotionally handle it, but that didn't mean I didn't want to say goodbye and pet him one last time. The hatred in the room made me so uncomfortable that I felt an overwhelming need to get out of there as soon as the bill was paid. One well-dressed woman sitting by the door stopped me and asked if there is anything she could do for me. I got the sense she was a minister of some sort. I said, "No thank you, I'm fine."

I wasn't. I was all broken up about having to put my dog to sleep and both shocked and upset over the way I was treated. If someone's grandmother or grandfather dies, do you treat them that way? Do you shame them for bringing the grandparent into the hospital when he or she is weak? I wondered at what point in the aging process the vet technicians felt I should have brought my dog in to be euthanized. I mean, if the dog isn't in pain, he's eating, and he's mobile, I don't see any reason to put him to sleep. Why end his life at 13 if he could live to be 15? His quality of life had clearly waned at the time I brought him in. It wasn't like he was in that condition for weeks and I just ignored it. I did everything for him until he stopped accepting my help, and I took that as a sign that he was ready to go.

I just wish these moments could be more private and that both the people and animals involved could be treated with more dignity. I didn't need this personal moment to be witnessed by everyone in the waiting room, nor did I need to be judged by people who didn't know what was going on. I felt like my dog was carried off like a pile of trash by some over-worked, irritable vet techs. After this experience, I'll be hunting for a new small animal vet, preferably one who has a staff that doesn't think everyone is cruel, neglectful and abusive of their animals. There are people who starve their animals and then there are people who bring their animals in to the vet hospital when their animals start starving themselves. It's important that the difference be recognized. One of those types of people may deserve harsh judgment, while the other deserves support over their loss. Just because someone's pet takes a turn for the worse in a hurry doesn't mean the pet owner is a criminal.

Ironically, after this incident I received a newspaper in the mail that contained an anonymous letter shaming pet owners who can't bear to watch their pets be put to sleep. It basically said that the pet needs to be with its owner in its final moments and that people need to just suck it up and stay with the pet during the process. Of course, that just made me feel even worse. I honestly don't know if having me in the room crying my eyes out would have helped my dog in any way. It probably would have just made the experience more traumatic for him. I was trying to remain stoic and relaxed so Monty would remain relaxed. My dogs are used to going to the vet to get exams and shots and surgeries. I'm not allowed to stay in the room during surgeries. I've seen a few people and animals die in front of me, and those memories are forever burned into my psyche. I'd rather my last memories of my pets be of when they were alive. Is that so selfish?

I think what hurt the most was the amount of time I spent in those last days agonizing over whether now was the right time to put Monty to sleep, and still after all that thought and heartache, someone had to question my decision in a spiteful manner. I wanted to make the best decision for Monty, and I think that I did, even if his inability to get up off the vet's slippery tile floor was an inconvenience for the staff. At least now I know he's resting in peace, even if the people who delivered him there weren't the kindest souls on earth.

New Muck Boots

I'm always thrashing my good athletic shoes by working in the paddock when it's muddy. My daughter has some rain boots she picked up at Target years ago that she just keeps in the tack room for when she's home and helping clean stalls, but they aren't my size. So, when I won a gift certificate for csnstores.com from 7MSN Ranch, one of the items I bought was rain/muck boots in my size. Aren't they cute? Thanks, Linda. There is another competition going on over at 7MSN Ranch for a $125 csnstores.com certificate. Check it out. The contest ends tomorrow (Thursday, July 29th at 7:00 PM Mountain Time), so hurry.

These boots are the Nomad brand and are very good quality. They come in much crazier patterns and colors than this. I also bought some new glassware for my new kitchen and some photo paper for my new photography business. Jackpot! I promise not to enter Linda's content this time since I've already won two of these gift certificates from different blogs. My good luck has been scaring me. I think I'll let some of it rub off on you.

Photo Finish

I am so relieved to have finally completed my online photography course. Now I can concentrate on setting up my studio and doing a marketing campaign. My photography education has not ended with the course, but I am still learning something new everyday and burying myself in books on the subject. I'm covering the art, the science, and the business of photography.

For weeks I've been trying to get a portrait of myself with my best camera in hand, but either I've been too busy or the weather has been bad or I was dripping sweat and didn't want my picture taken. My son managed to capture this photo of me in a quick 3-minute photo shoot, which was all the time we had to spare. The sun was low enough in the sky that I couldn't face it without squinting, so I turned to the side and looked through my viewfinder letting my hair take the brunt of the sun to fix the problem.

I'm taking a week off from work to set up my studio, which will fix the problem of not being able to shoot outdoors in bad weather. I can also get control of the lighting instead of having to rely on the location of the sun, the clouds, and whatever happens to be reflecting or absorbing light in the outdoor setting.

I'm turning my spa room turned tack room into a photography studio. The room is a mess, so we've been removing junk from it a little at a time. I donated all the boxes of clothing that have been sitting in it to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. I don't think I'm ever going to be the size I was in college ever again. We had a huge grapefruit tree that my husband grew from a seed sitting in that room for years. We couldn't put it outside, because it wouldn't survive in Nevada's climate. My husband surprised me by tossing it. Now I have to throw out stacks of old magazines, find different storage for the remaining items, repaint the walls white, tear up the carpet, install new lighting, and purchase some backdrops, props, light diffusers and reflectors.

There's so much to do. I need to hire an accountant to handle taxes and obtain the appropriate business, equipment and liability insurance before I start taking on customers. I need to find a variety of models to volunteer to help beef up my portfolio. My horses and dogs are getting tired of having a camera in their faces all the time. Starting a photography business has been a long road and I know it is even longer than I can perceive at the moment, but I'm enjoying it.

Trail Ride Videos

I laughed after watching these videos, because they remind me of old Bob Ross - The Joy of Painting videos that I used to watch on PBS, not because I was interested in painting, but just because Bob's voice and gentle character relaxed me. If you don't know what I'm talking about, here are some links to his videos. Now watch my videos and see if you get the connection.



I repeat myself in some of these videos, because I kept pressing the record button and thinking it was recording when it wasn't, so I wasn't sure which stories I previously told had actually been recorded. I also apologize for not speaking louder. I know at some points my voice trails off while at other points the wind monopolizes the microphone.



At the point where the second horse passes me in this next video, Lostine jumped sideways, because she was taken by surprise when the dog came around the corner. You hear me saying WHOA afterwards.



I talk in this next video about Lostine being comfortable with dogs running right up to her legs, and then spooking over inanimate objects such as this boulder I film. The dog in the last video just took her by surprise because she was paying attention to the horses, but plenty of other dogs ran around her legs on this day and didn't bother her. One dog laid down right next to her hind legs while we were resting and I was out of the saddle. I had to make sure she didn't accidentally step on it.



If I can get into the habit of narrating while filming and riding, then I won't have to type so much and you won't have to read as much.







I've been wondering what all that clicking is that I hear in these videos. I thought it was me clucking to get Lostine to keep walking, but didn't think I'm that persistent in my tongue clucking. Then when I heard the clicking in my thunderstorm videos, I realized that it is the lens cap on a string swinging up and hitting the microphone.

Damn the Torpedoes -- I Rode Anyway

At 8:00 AM I took a chance and loaded Lostine up into the trailer, gambling that there would be a break in the thunderstorms. I was right. There were clear skies over the mountains and the thunderclouds had drifted off to the east.

No other horse trailers were in the parking lot -- just the die-hard trail runners and hikers. We came across several parties that were hiking with metal walking sticks. That was a first for Lostine, but I just kept talking to the people to get them talking to me, so Lostine would know they are just people and not humanoid insects.

A couple with two loose dogs approached and asked if they could pet my horse. The man guessed that Lostine was a young Quarter Horse. I said no, she's an old Arabian. He said, "Really? I thought all Arabians turn gray when they are old."

"No, those are just the gray ones. Lostine was born a chestnut color and she'll remain that color her whole life. She's 23 now."

It turned out that he's owned Arabian horses his whole life, which surprised me, because if any horse looks like an Arabian, it's Lostine with her dishy face. Every once in a while someone makes a breedist comment that cracks me up. This one is worth repeating. The man said, "I got a Quarter Horse once, but went back to Arabians. An Arabian will throw you and come back to see if you are okay, but a Quarter Horse will throw you and just keep going in search of food."

That gave me the giggles.

Fortunately, Lostine hasn't tried to throw me on any of our trail rides. She only does that in the round pen, because she's retaliating over me taking her back to kindergarten. She is one horse who wants to be treated with dignity.

We came to a different water crossing and you can tell by the direction her ears are pointing which direction she'd rather be going. It turned out we couldn't fit through the low hanging branches anyway, so I took her up to the other water crossing. She didn't cross there either.

I ran into a man who pointed at us and laughed. He said, "You put shoes on your horse! Ha ha ha ha ha ha...!"

I'm like, "Yeah?"

The woman walking with him said, "So, I have those types of boots for my horse. They protect their feet."

Lostine didn't like it that the man was laughing at her, so she tried to push him out of her way. She sidestepped into him and he just stood there. I said, "Look out!"

He said, "Don't worry about me. I know all about horses."

Really? Is that why you think shoes are funny?

We rode for about three hours. I got lots of video that I'll put up in other posts. When Lostine and I were headed to the trailer she stopped short and wouldn't budge. Another horse trailer was in the process of parking, and the horses inside were kicking. It wasn an aluminum trailer, so the kicking was quite loud. I had to dismount and lead her the rest of the way.

She seemed really tired and wouldn't take the peppermints I offered her. I figured she was suffering from dehydration and heat exhaustion, so I gave her a bucket of water, but she wouldn't drink it. So, I poured it all over her to cool her body temperature down, then loaded her up in the trailer to get home quickly. She's been drinking out of that water trough and is fine now.

As soon as we got home, the thunderclouds moved in and the sky started booming and flashing. I'm not kidding about these two or three-hour windows of bearable weather.

I Feel Cheated

Between starting up my business, working overtime in my existing job, and handling all the unexpected problems that seem to be popping up every few minutes, I rarely get to have fun. My Sunday morning trail rides are the highlight of my life at the moment. When Lostine and I climb into the high Sierra, I don't think either of us want to come back. When we reach the fork in the trail that either takes us back to the parking lot or up into the mountains, she chooses to go back up and extend the ride. Sometimes I let her. Other times I know I have to get home to feed all the horses and do chores, so I make her head down the trail. She seems disappointed.

I have to plan my weekends carefully now because the weather is getting so obnoxious. I have to find the one window of just a few hours when the temperatures are bearable and the thunderclouds have cleared, and quickly load Lostine up into the trailer.

Friday was frustrating, because my farrier appointment cut into my laundry time and work time, so I had to work late and do laundry until midnight. Everyone in the house was sleeping while I was tip-toeing around hanging laundry in closets. I was thinking, "This is so ridiculous! No one else I know works as hard as I do. Why do I always have to be working? I'm going to work and then die, and wonder what that was all about. I have to cut back on something so I can have some fun every once in a while."

So, come Saturday morning I was torn. I wanted to go on a trail ride, but it was supposed to be 99 degrees and my truck was both acting up and out of gas. If I hauled Lostine out to the trails and back, there was a chance we'd end up broken down or out of gas on the side of the road. So, instead of going trail riding, I took the truck in to the shop for some maintenance and filled up that gas tank.

Interesting story: There's this woman at my local oil change place who is a fast-talker. You know those types of people who come across as being insincere? They seem disconnected from you and every word out of their mouths seems scripted? That's the way this woman who works at my shop is. Anyway, the last time I took my truck in, she kept finding additional work that needed to be done. I think I agreed to the first 2 or 3 items in her list, but when she came up with a 4th, 5th, and 6th item, I had to draw the line. I felt like she was just doing a flinch-test to see how much money she could get out of me.

Then one of the mechanics yelled out that my transfer case oil is in a really bad state and needs immediate attention. By that point I was so overwhelmed with the size of my bill that I said no. I explained that I only drive the truck on the weekends, so I'm not concerned. Later my husband told me I should have had the work done, especially since I'm hauling a horse trailer. Ever since I've been worrying every time my truck sputters or jerks or can't get up to speed. I wondered how much of that woman's list really did need to be taken care of.

So, on the way to the oil change place this time, I was caught in heavy traffic at 8:15 AM on a Saturday morning (go figure), and I had to maneuver my way out of it. I stepped on the gas to "shoot the gap" (love that Jetta commercial) and my truck started to go, stopped responding, and then jerked forward and accelerated again. Not good.

I told the mechanic about that when I arrived and said I needed both an oil change and a transfer case oil change. He looked at my truck's maintenance history and said, "You don't need anything but an oil change. You take really good care of your truck."

Say what? Either that woman had absent-mindedly closed out those six things as having been done at my last appointment or she was flat out lying to me about the work that needed to be done on my truck. I asked him to just check the transfer case oil and change it if it looks like it is needed. Turned out it was needed. However, he said that he didn't see any problems that would cause my engine to hesitate during accelaration. We decided to just flush the engine to clean it out since the truck doesn't get driven often. It is running so much better now.

Anyway, that took up my morning, so by the time I got home it was close to 100 degrees and too late to go on a trail ride. I hooked my truck up to the horse trailer so that it would be ready first thing in the morning, then some unpredicted thunderstorms moved in on Saturday afternoon, cooling things down a bit, but threatening to rain.

I woke up at 5:30 AM Sunday morning to feed the horses so we could start our trail ride early, but when I walked outside, it felt like it was 90 degrees and the thunderclouds were still overhead. In the winter months between November and May it snowed nearly every weekend. Weekdays when I was stuck at my desk and couldn't go outside, the weather was great. Now that we are in the summer months, the heatwaves and thunderstorms are coming through on the weekends, and the weekdays are awesome. That doesn't help me. I feel cheated. Does anyone have a weather machine that can shake things up a bit?

Pedicure Report

Right when the farrier was trimming my spookiest horse's hooves this morning, the National Multiple Sclerosis Society truck came up the street to pick up my donations. I warned my farrier that he may want to step away from the horse. He agreed that it was a good idea.

The truck stopped just 30 feet from us, the driver got out, waved and started loading up my boxes. He was so amazingly quiet about it. He didn't throw them into the back of the truck and make a racket like I expected. He quietly picked each box up and gently set it in the back. Then he let us know that he needed to back into my driveway to turn around, and he was even quiet about that. I commented on how polite he was, and my farrier said, "He must be familiar with horses."

Bombay raised his head and was on alert the whole time, but he didn't move an inch. The farrier said, "He's come a long way."

He also commented that Lostine seems so much happier and relaxed this summer. He thinks it's because of all the trail riding we've been doing. She actually enjoys attention now, where in the past she was a very aloof horse. Lostine licked his tool caddy while he trimmed Bombay's hooves, and seemed to be standing in line waiting her turn. The farrier couldn't say much about Gabbrielle. She was just being a crab. She narrows her eyes and swishes her tail when she's irritated. She tried kicking out to the side at him and received a stern correction from me. Then she tried leaning on the farrier and swinging her butt around into him to knock him off balance. I need to spend a lot more time with her, because she's developing some bad manners. She acts like a teenage girl suffering from PMS.

I wanted to take some photographs of my farrier working on the horses' hooves for my portfolio, but he mentioned that his electricity has been out and he doesn't have any water. I figured it was a bad time to take pictures since he hadn't had a shower, so I asked if I could do a photo shoot with him in 10 weeks. He agreed to it. I'll remind him over the phone, so he can prepare his appearance how he wants it. I, personally, like the grunge look on farriers.

More Signs

I've been chronicling here about how my peaceful, quiet rural lifestyle on a farm has rather quickly changed into my personal space shrinking while masses of people move into my area and turn it into a city. It's happening everywhere in the western United States. We have people flooding in from foreign countries as well as long-time American citizens migrating. It's especially bad this year with so many people out of work and in search of jobs. Not only do we have ten times the normal amount of traffic, but we have multiple families living together in houses around us, longer lines and more crime.

There are also plenty of people who do have financial security now and choose to vacation here in Northern Nevada. Locals say it's a good thing because tourist money is what supports our state, but some of these tourists are making themselves unwelcome with their rude behaviors. Here are some stories of more signs I've seen that our little rural community is turning into just another extension of the Bay Area:

1. I woke up this morning at 5:00 AM to go outside (in my pajamas) to feed the horses, hoping to avoid the kid being dropped off at daycare next door and the other next door guest who likes to hang out by my bathroom window while I shower. The air was polluted by the sound of a car alarm somewhere in the neighborhood. It's been whooping it up all morning for hours on end. Obviously, no one has made any attempt to shut it off. What is this? New York City?

2. I walked around the house at 5:30 AM in my bra, while the deodorant on my armpits dried, opening windows and doors to let in cool air before the sun came up. Normally, I can do this discreetly without an audience, but this morning I had to duck every two seconds because a car was always swinging around the curve and shining its headlights on me in my bra in my house. What's up with all this early morning traffic? All I hear at the moment are engine noises and car alarms where I used to be able to listen to the birds chirping.

3. The other day I had just picked up my mail and was walking up my driveway when I heard a loud noise behind me. A Cadillac with California plates came racing around the blind curve so fast that it was out of control. The driver spotted me and jerked the wheel hard to turn up my drive. He then proceeded to slam on his brakes on dirt and gravel when he must have been going 50 MPH in a 35 MPH zone turning into a 10 MPH zone. His Caddy lost control and slid up to me, just missing hitting me by inches. A woman poked her head out the passenger side window and yelled out in a middle eastern accent, "Is this the way to Lake Tahoe?"

I was standing there fuming with anger, thinking, "No! This is my HOME and I wasn't expecting guests!"

I mean, come on, most Cadillacs come equipped with GPS or On Star. Most people who own a Cadillac also have a PDA or mobile phone that has access to Yahoo Maps or has GPS software. For those who don't own such gadgets, there's a 7-11 store down the street with maps. There is no reason to tear up someone's private property and nearly kill them in the process of trying to figure out if you are heading in the right direction.

4. While hauling my horse trailer in a 55 MPH zone out in the middle of nowhere, I found myself surrounded by vehicles with out of state plates. A man in a pick up hauling a speedboat illegally passed me in the oncoming lane going 80 MPH nearly blowing me and my horse off the highway. He's on vacation! What's his hurry? I usually save those speeds for when I've got someone in the car who needs to get to the hospital, but he was heading in the opposite direction of the hospital.

5. From my window I keep hearing what sounds like trains blowing their horns, but we don't have any trains around here. All I can figure out is that it's truck drivers out on the highway blowing their horns at bad drivers. Don't they know that people live here and are trying to sleep?

6. Every time, and I mean every time, I drive around a blind curve (and we have a lot of those around here), I meet up with some other driver who has drifted over the center line and is halfway in my lane coming straight at me. Half the time, those drivers are talking on mobile phones and can't get back over quick enough to avoid a head-on collision, so I (the smart one who has both hands on the wheel and is not distracted by a telephone conversation) have to swerve over onto the shoulder and pray there isn't a bicyclist or jogger there. What is so dang hard about staying in your own lane when you navigate a curve? All I can figure out is that when people from big cities visit here, they think it is so spacious compared to where they came from that they can drive wherever the heck they feel like it and there won't be any consequences.

7. Every day I have to go outside to pick up trash on my property that people just threw out their car windows while driving past my house. Does my park-like setting look like a dump or what?

8. I can't ride my horses on my own property at all anymore, not just because of the neighbors, but because of all the tourists on the highway who spot me on my horse and feel the need to pull off the highway and drive right onto my property up to my fence to either watch or ask for directions. You know you're not in a rural community anymore when seeing someone riding a horse is considered to be a rare novelty and a form of entertainment. I just want to get my horses trained so they will be useful to me, which is hard to do with all the distractions and interruptions.

9. My drive to work and home has doubled in time thanks to all the tourists parked halfway on the highway throwing their car doors open in my path, all the bicyclists riding three abreast covering the expanse of my lane, all the loose dogs and beach goers running across the highway, all the people pulling onto the highway from the shoulder without looking over their shoulders, and all the drivers who are intimidated by the curves and cliffs and therefore driving 20 MPH under the speed limit yet not using turnouts. If Lake Tahoe's popularity keeps rising, someone is going to have to rip up Highway 28 to put in 4 lanes, a bicycle lane, and several parking lots, because the single lane highway with no passing and inadequate space for parking along the shoulder is not working for all the people who are flocking there for their summer vacations. Yet at the same time we want to keep the lake pristine and preserve our natural environment.

10. The locals are getting so annoyed with all the tourists that they are starting to foul their own nest by spray painting phrases like "Locals Only" on boulders around the lake. You know, at least horses can foul their own nests and make something beautiful grow out of the manure. I can't say the same for people.

I won't go so far as to say I'm looking forward to winter, because last winter was way too cold, wet, and long, but I will say I'm looking forward to school starting so that the vacations will come to an end and sanity will be restored around here.

My Sweet Blog List

Crystal at Ranch Riding passed this Sweet Blog Award on to me. Thank you, Crystal. The rules are to put it on your blog and give it to 10 sweet bloggers. I know many of you have already probably been given the award, seeing the high number of people we are supposed to pass it along to.

(One of these days I'm going to make an award and you can only pass it along to one other blogger, and that blogger has to wait a month before passing it along to the next blogger. Everyone will be waiting in anticipation to see if they won it, and everyone will want it, because very few get it. Hee hee. I'm so devious.)

However, I was just thinking the other day that when I first started blogging, there were awards flying all over the Internet every day and now I rarely see them come around our little horse blogger circle anymore. So, I was glad to see this one.

I do think these award rules are guaranteeing their own extinction when we are asked to pass them along to any more than 3 other bloggers, though. It's like giving an adult homework to create x number of links and then go to each of those blogs and leave a comment telling them they got an award. It's a lot of work. Most of us are at a point where we say thank you and offer it up to whoever wants it. I usually say thank you and change the subject, pretending like I forgot to pass it along. We are lazier than some of our horses.

I know what you are thinking: Leave it up to NuzMuz to tell it like it is.

This time I really am going to pass it on to ten bloggers. BUT I'm not going to tell them the award is waiting for them at my site. I have to draw the line somewhere. Maybe some of you can drop them a line if you happen to be in their neighborhood and let them know?

I've been so busy lately that I realized it has probably been months since I left a comment on some of my best blogger buddies' blogs. I just made a special trip out to see Lytha and Baasha at A Horse Crazy American in Germany, because I'm sure they must think I've fallen off the face of the earth. What's more interesting than an American woman being swept off her feet by a charming foreigner who loves her enough to take both her and her horse back to his country? With that, I must pass the Sweet Blog Award onto her.

Then there's one blogger who is such a gifted writer, who has adorable kids and some frustrating moments with her horses, who I often neglect as well. But I do read her blog and think it is sweet. Here's to you Breathe/Winter at Horsecentric.

Then there's Leah at Barn Door Tagz who is one of my partners in blogging about getting healthy and losing weight. All this time while I've been bitching about my work schedule, being unable to exercise and lose weight, she just lost what she needed to lose on her own and didn't say nothin' to nobody until it was gone. One day we just saw this post with pics of this skinny chick and were blown away. I'm all talk and no action, while she's all action and no talk. Congratulations again.

Then there's the blogger I lovingly refer to in my own mind as "Fern" of Fern Valley Appaloosas. Sweetness alert! She is so good about commenting on everyone's blogs and I don't think I have ever heard a nasty word or mean judgment escape her mouth. She's sweet, her horses are sweet, her blog is sweet. I'm talking sweetness all around.

Then there's Stephanie at The Aspiring Equestrian. I have to say I feel a lot of guilt with this one. I have a long history of psychic and paranormal experiences. One day Stephanie posted a picture on her blog of an equitation jump that was particularly difficult for her. I looked at that jump and had an image of her falling, but I didn't want to say anything, because I didn't want to destroy her confidence and be the cause of an accident. Unfortunately, keeping quiet didn't help. Stephanie has been laid up in a knee brace all summer after a terrible accident and surgery. Please stop by her blog and help cheer her up. She's a sweet one.

Then there's Andrea of Swamp Suburbia. After blogging a while and posting these amazing photographs of her beautiful children, she started a career as a photographer. As you know, I too have started my own photography business and am about to graduate from an online course I have been taking. Andrea has been an inspiration for me as I watch her client base grow through her photography blog. Her gorgeous daughter had a terrible freak accident on a fence, broke her femur and was in a body cast for quite a while, requiring Andrea's constant care. She's all better now, but my heart went out to Andrea and her family during that tough time. On top of that she lives in the last state in the U.S. where anyone would want to live at the moment with all those hurricane and oil spill problems. Despite the challenges, she remains optimistic and sweet.

Who doesn't love Mikey, the Problem Solver from Beyond Hope, Arizona. I can totally relate to her frantic, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants lifestyle. Despite all the insanity that life throws at her, she remains in good humor about it all. Her life is one big adventure and she never fails to keep the excitement coming for us readers.

Then there's Paint Girl of Adventures of the Painted Creek Farm. She's another one I can totally relate to with her crazy work hours and high stress job. At least with my job I'm not going to get injured sitting at a desk (unless I fall off my chair or type too hard and break a finger or get so frustrated that I slam my fists into the desk and break my hands...), but Paint Girl risks life and limb working with show horses every day. She is gem of an employee, hard working, conscientious, and caring. In other words, SWEET!

Then there's Katharine Swan at Pony Tales Blog. Katharine is living the life I want as a freelance writer with plenty of time left over to ride her gelding Panama nearly on a daily basis. Katharine always has insightful comments and posts. Oh yeah, and she's made of rubber. I've never heard of someone who can somersault off a horse and bounce right back on without a scratch. She used to have plenty of falls, but lately she's been taking equitation lessons and kicking butt in her horsemanship progress.

Another sweet blog I like to follow is The Jumping Percheron. Stacey is plenty busy serving our country, running marathons, and moving from Hawaii to New Mexico with her gorgeous and talented Percheron Klein, so I don't know if she reads my blog or not, but go check out hers. She's an inspiration to me mainly because she is so fearless and energetic. I love to see people make good use of their time by setting goals and reaching them as opposed to just writing about how bored they are. Life is short. Go live it.

Lostine Meets Other Horses on the Trail

I've been dragging my feet about trail riding, because it gets so hot so fast. I'd have to hit the trails at sunrise for it to be cool enough to ride, but that would mean feeding the horses their breakfast at 3:30 AM, and I need to get my sleep. I stopped at the feed store for more fly spray and saw that two of my ads for trail riders were gone. I checked my email when I got home, but there were no messages, so I went out alone Sunday morning.

One of the problems with the more grassy hay I recently bought is that it takes a lot more of it to keep my horses fat, so they spend more time eating, which means less time riding for me. Also, I could see that Lostine lost enough weight from eating this mostly grass hay that I'm going to have to get a shorter cinch. Her current cinch now touches the D-ring on each side of the saddle.

As I was driving into the parking lot, my favorite trail rider was leaving with his black Tennessee Walking Horse in tow. He waved to me as he passed. I took his old parking spot. When I got out of the truck, I saw that he had pulled over and was approaching me to talk. He remembers my name now. He asked where I got my Tucker saddle and seemed disappointed that I got it over the Internet. I guess he was hoping for a local saddle shop where his horse could be fitted. I explained that horsesaddleshop.com provides templates to help you determine the right tree for you horse before ordering. He thanked me and went on his way. Maybe next time I see him, he'll have a new Tucker trail saddle.

Despite being around 90 degrees at 8:00 AM, Lostine and I ran into two joggers with loose dogs on the trail right off the bat. One of the joggers had a juvenile Labrador that wanted to play with Lostine really badly. It raced past her, turned to face her, and started jumping and bowing like puppies do when they want to play. Lostine just thought the dog was silly and she ignored it. The dog owner started cursing. I could see he was stressed, so I offered to pull over so he and the dog could pass us. He said, "This dog keeps getting kicked by horses and he never learns his lesson!"

Yikes. Perhaps keeping the dog on a leash until it's a little older and obeys commands might help. I owned a Labrador and I can attest to the fact that they are very high energy and difficult to train up until the age of about six, when they begin to settle down.

When we reached our shade tree with the bench, I noted that there was a very loud group of people hiking in the trees to our right with several loose dogs and adults carrying babies and kids on their shoulders. Lostine was being "looky" -- looking around for things to spook at, so I took her to the left up to the river. I got her to put her feet in it, but she still wouldn't cross. One of these days it's going to be hot enough that she'll want to roll in it.

We took the trail all the way to the end and stopped there to rest. I looked over and saw what appeared to be a bear den, so I non-nonchalantly turned Lostine around and encouraged her to move at a good clip back down the mountain a ways. I didn't smell anything that smelled like a bear, but didn't want to take any chances. We were deep enough in the mountains that we could have run into a bear, a mountain lion or deer, and I hadn't seen any other people for quite a while.

While headed along the foothill ridge, Lostine saw a group of horses up ahead and got so excited that she stumbled and fell on her knees. I was sitting there in the saddle at a 45 degree angle leaning back saying, "What was that all about?"

She looked around her, realized she was in the ground, and hopped back up onto all fours. I decided to take the trail towards the other horses to see how she would react. She tensed up and began pussyfooting her way toward them. As we got closer, I saw it was a woman with several very little girls on a variety of ponies and horses. I asked the woman if she was teaching a class.

Again, I got that fearful, paranoid look and an adamant "NO!"

Hmmmm. I guess I asked the wrong question. She either was in business, but didn't want to have to pay taxes, or she was afraid I was going to ask to join in on the lessons, or she was afraid I would be a know-it-all who would try to take over her class.

She eased up and said, "I'm just giving them tips on trail riding, like showing them how to go up and down hills."

I said, "It's good to know that someone takes the time to do that."

She relaxed then and asked me about my Old Macs. She didn't say anything positive or negative. She just asked if Lostine was barefoot in those Old Macs. Yup. No point in having both metal shoes and rubber shoes on at the same time. A lot of people put metal shoes on their horses, and carry rubber boots in their saddle bag in case the horse throws a metal shoe. I've never been able to convince my farrier that wearing rubber boots instead of metal shoes is a good thing, but he tolerates my preferences and actually trims my horses' hooves so that they will continue to fit into those boots.

I passed the trail riding class and was surprised to see them fall in behind us. Lostine kept zig-zagging slowly because she wanted to see who was behind her and make sure that no horse was going to bite her on the butt. The little girls were squealing, and Lostine handled those noises pretty well. As the instructor was telling the kids to lean back slightly, put their weight in the stirrups with heels down, I found myself automatically following her instructions. I didn't want the kids to think I had bad form.

They circled back and Lostine and I continued on our way until we ran into a couple more trail riders. We saw more horses on the trail than ever! I pulled over for them, because I had a convenient turnout, and I noticed that something was hanging from one lady's bridle. I pointed it out to her. At first I thought it was a leather tie string holding the bit to the bridle, but it turned out to just be the chinstrap.

I felt bad, because I moved my leg as the two horses were passing me, and it made a squeaking noise on my saddle, and both horses spooked sideways. I think the rule for horses passing horses probably should be that the spookier horses pull over and watch while the other horses pass.

When I got Lostine back in the trailer, I realized that she was very quiet in there on the drive to the trail. She usually paws and kicks. Now she just pokes her nose out the window and enjoys the breeze. She also hasn't had any nervous squirts in the trailer in a long time either. It's so nice not to have to clean the trailer after every transport.

After getting home safe and sound, we took all three horses out to pasture to graze before the grass dies. It takes so much water in this heat to keep that pasture growing. After my incident on Friday in which I forgot about the hose filling up the water troughs twice, our sprinkler manifold broke and the sprinklers ran all night long. Now I'm afraid to use water because we accidentally wasted so much of it.

Friday Frenzy

Picture this:
I go outside to feed the horses "real quick"
and the sky breaks open
pouring rain
flashing lightning
blasting ear-deafening thunder

I start throwing hay into each of the stalls
in hopes of getting the horses to eat indoors,
but Lostine has managed to completely jam her door,
so I have to toss one pile of hay under the awning.

On my way in the house
I notice that both water troughs are almost empty
despite me just filling them up yesterday.
I put the hose in one trough
and go in the house.

I look at the clock and realize the mail carrier has come,
so I grab the mailbox key and hike out to the roadside boxes.
By the time I get back with the mail,
my lunch break is over and I sit back down at my desk.

For hours I sit there fielding communications,
struggling with networking problems,
only occasionally having the fleeting thought
that I hear water running through the pipes.

But before it can register, the phone rings
or another problem jumps in my face.
The dryer buzzes and I retrieve the clean laundry,
hang each item up in the closet.
Is my son in the shower?
I know I don't have anything in the washer now.
Why is water running through the pipes?

RING RING. Must answer phone.

Around mid-afternoon an image pops into my head
of water flowing out of a water trough.

I scream, jump up from my desk and run outside.
Our entire side yard is flooded.
I wade through the water to move the hose over into the other empty trough.

This time I'm not leaving.
I'm standing over that sucker until it's full.

I'm waiting and waiting and waiting.
I get bored and start talking to my horse.

All of the sudden I get this creepy feeling I'm being watched.
I look up and sure enough,
my nosy neighbor is sitting on his porch staring at me
as I am babbling to my horse.
I can't stand it.
Even when I look directly at him, he won't look away.
I feel like a stripper on stage.
This man is undressing me with his eyes.
I'm totally grossed out, so I run in the house.

RING RING. Gotta answer the freakin' phone.

Time to get back to work.

You know the rest.

(Yes, I stole Mikey's style of posting.)

Cuteness

I haven't had any time to work with the horses lately, but had a couple of cute things happen in my 2 minutes of running outside to feed them their meals three times a day. Gabbrielle has started laying down in the shade under the awning of the barn to keep cool in the fresh decomposed granite. I haven't seen her lay down to nap since she was a yearling. She looks so adorable, but every time I try to sneak outside with the camera, she stands up.

The other cute thing was that every once in a while I see this ground squirrel hop across the back pen, under the fence, through the paddock, through the chain-link into my neighbor's yard. I think it's living under the hood of one of their junk vehicles they keep permanently parked up against my chain-link fence. It looks like such a jovial little guy. Today the squirrel started hopping through the paddock right when Bombay was coming around the corner. I could see that the squirrel was going to pass right in front of my spookiest horse. I thought, "This should be interesting."

Bombay just lowered his head to acknowledge the squirrel as it passed in front of his hooves and he kept walking toward me without a single spook. I guess the squirrel frequents the paddock enough that the horses are familiar with it. This is good. More preparation for surprises on the trail. Now if only Bombay's wounds would heal enough so I can get those shipping boots on him and trailer him out to the trails. It's supposed to be 100 degrees this weekend. Not as bad as some of you have been reporting in your area, but still plenty hot.

I am reading your blogs. I just don't always leave comments -- mostly because I get interrupted every 30 seconds with one thing or another. Either my Internet connection cuts out or the phone rings or an instant message pops up or someone starts talking to me in person. I need to be cloned to handle all the communications. I think the reason why I'm loving trail riding alone so much is because it's the only time I can do my own thing without distractions.

My mother came to visit yesterday. I left work for two hours to sit on the patio of my favorite Mexican restaurant with her getting caught up on what's been going on in each other's lives. It was so nice to just sit there sipping a Corona Light in the shade of an umbrella with a nice breeze and a little sparrow landing on our table, trying to help itself to our tortilla chips.

My mother boards her Shelty with her vet when she visits me. The morning after she dropped the dog off, the vet called to inform her that her dog died. Though sad for my mother, I was also relieved, because if the dog died at home, my mother wouldn't have the strength to carry it to the vet or bury it herself. Her Shelty was the sister of my Shelty, Monty. Monty is on his last leg too. He stopped eating dry food weeks ago, so we started feeding him wet food, but then he stopped eating that too. Then we resorted to feeding him people food. I've discovered that if I stand over him, he will eat some wet food, but I can't just set the bowl on the floor and have him come running like he used to.

Both my dog and my mother's have rheumatoid arthritis with detached toes, in addition to a lot of fatty tumors and bad teeth. They didn't come from the healthiest gene pool. My Corgi has had a lot of health problems too. I find it ironic that the dogs we buy from breeders have way more health problems than the strays we pick up or the puppies we adopt from free litters that came about by accident. When I was a kid, none of our dogs were in and out of the vet clinic as often as our dogs of today are. What's up with that?

Attack of the Wooden Pallet

Since it was such a busy weekend and I was unable to spend any time with the horses, I let them out to graze on dregs around the haystack. This new hay may look nice, but I don't like it. It's basically loose sticks of grass with virtually no alfalfa, and you can't just pick up a flake and carry it to the feed trough. Once you cut open a bale, it just collapses into a loose pile of dry grass. You need a pitchfork and wheelbarrow to transport it. When I try to carry an armful of it, the majority ends up on the ground and down my top. So, I just have to let the horses out to eat what fell on the ground.

They like to stick their noses between the slats on the wooden pallets and eat whatever alfalfa from the old hay fell through there.

Gabbrielle was burying her nose in one pallet and when she lifted her head, the entire wooden pallet came up attached to her nose! Oh shoot! I knew she was going to freak out and cause a wreck, and I'd have to get the vet out here on another weekend emergency call. Dang! And all I wanted to do was spend a little time relaxing with the horses. I've been trying to lay low lately, because every little thing I do results in a complete fiasco. I figure if I do nothing, I can't cause any additional problems. Who knew innocently letting the horses graze could result in yet another disaster?

The second that Gabbrielle's head came up with that pallet attached to her face, a bunch of fire trucks and police vehicles raced past our house with their sirens on, startling her even worse. She threw her head up in the air and the pallet flew off her nose, did a flip, and landed upside down in the exact spot where it had previously been placed. Good trick, Gabbrielle.

I could see she was quite upset. When I tried to approach her to examine her muzzle, she turned her rear at me. She continued to turn her rear at me as I tried walking around to her head. I gave her my sympathy voice to let her know that I just wanted to make sure she was okay, and she turned to face me. Not a scratch. Her muzzle came out of it in one piece.

I decided to move the pallet and just let them eat what was underneath it. The horses popped their heads up every now and then when another siren raced past the house. I'm sure whatever was going on will be in the morning paper. I'm just glad it wasn't me and my horse making the news. I need a lot less excitement in my life.

Fishing Trip

I didn't get any riding in this weekend, but my son and I did catch a meal. We went fishing on the West Walker River.

I caught two fish and they both got away, so I turned my fishing hole over to my son, and he caught a nice one. A short time later I caught a smaller fish that really should have been thrown back, but it swallowed the hook and I couldn't save it. I was hoping to catch three fish, so each of us could have something to eat, but as it got closer to the middle of the day, the fish just stopped biting.

I finally gave up and let my son talk me into going home after I fell down for the umpteenth time and my favorite pair of needle nose pliers fell out of my creel down into a hole between two boulders. I risked getting bitten by snakes and spiders by reaching down there to retrieve them.

The West Walker River has an interesting story behind it. My family vacationed at a resort that we called "The Ranch" every summer while I was growing up. I have fond memories of fishing there, playing with the horses in the pasture, catching and releasing Gardner snakes and lying in our cots cracking jokes and laughing until we fell asleep.

Then one year there was a huge flood that washed away all the cabins at "The Ranch". This flood was of epic proportions. It carved a whole new path. They had to build a new highway to respect the new path of the river and even poured concrete to try to keep the river in place. As a result, the river banks are now treacherous. They are steep with unstable sand and lined with gigantic boulders that one must traverse to get to the river. That's why I kept falling down. I mostly slipped down the side of the river bank when sand gave out from under me, but my last fall was on those huge boulders. So, my shins slammed down on rock. I was pretty beat up by the end of the day thinking that riding horses is less dangerous than fishing. ; )

After I cleaned the fish at home and laid them side by side, I realized that my son caught a Rainbow Trout while I caught a German Brown. My father always coveted those German Browns, tossing back all the Rainbows he caught. I used to try to catch a German Brown to make him happy, but never could. While I was fishing today, I could hear my father's voice saying, "Throw your line in there. Let it ride the current downstream. Now stop. You got a nibble. Give the line a yank..."

I wouldn't be surprised if he were behind helping me catch that German Brown. He's on the other side now. He passed away several years ago.

Here are some photos I took of some interesting flowers I saw on our trip. Don't ask me what they are. I blew up this picture on my computer and was surprised to see that there was a bug I've never seen before crawling on the right side of the flower.

You're Shipping Me Where?

Bombay's new shipping boots arrived this week. Sizing them was tricky, as once you get horse hair on them, you can't return them. So, I walked out into the paddock with one front boot and one back boot and tried just holding them up to Bombay's legs. Uh uh. He wasn't letting those big black things anywhere near him. He took off.

Gabbrielle seemed interested, though, as long as I kept them in front of her face. As soon as I tried to hold them up to her legs, she took off. Well, there's always good old Lostine. She'll hold still for anything as long as it's not a halter. I was able to hold them up to her and decided they were a good fit. However, the boots were primarily for Bombay, so it was more important that they fit him. Here's a picture of how the boo boo on his hind leg looks today. They just scab over and then the scabs rub off and they bleed a little bit until they scab over again.

We had a rainstorm yesterday afternoon, so of course Bombay had to roll in the mud. I wanted to wash him before trying on the boots. However, the only way I could make room to bathe him was to move my truck and horse trailer. The horses get over-excited when I do that, because they are convinced that it means I'm going to load them in the trailer and take them somewhere. This time we weren't going anywhere, but I couldn't convince Bombay of that. He did a dance throughout his entire bath, looking nervously at the trailer.

Once he dried off and I brought out the shipping boots, he was totally convinced I was dragging him somewhere in that trailer. I'm sure he knew what they were for. I had to desensitize him to the boots, but I really didn't want to spend a lot of time on it, so I took the direct approach of ripping the Velcro closures open as I walked toward him, and then immediately fastening the boot to his front leg. He was okay until I walked away, and then he started doing a dance that caused the boot to slide down underneath his hoof.

I had to get the boot off him before he mauled it. Bombay is notorious for destroying boots, sheets, blankets, lead ropes, and even reins. I once bought a fly sheet for him and he shredded it completely within an hour of my putting it on him.

I gave him a rest and then refastened the boot, but tighter so that it wouldn't slide down. Then I put on the other front boot and walked him around. The nylon was going swish swish swish as he walked, and fortunately that noise didn't send him through the roof.

Once he was walking comfortably, I attached a hind boot.

This is where things got dicey. As soon as I walked away, he started trying to kick it off. He managed to kick it loose enough that it too slid down beneath his hoof and he was stepping on it. I had to get him to stop kicking so that I could approach and remove the boot. I timed it so that I could step in and grab the boot when he put his hind leg back on the ground. I trusted he wouldn't keep kicking and kick me in the process.

Sure enough, he kept that leg on the ground like a good boy while I removed the boot. Again, I gave him a rest and then reattached the hind boot tighter this time. Then I took him for a walk. It was more like taking him for a jump. He jumped and kicked that hind leg out repeatedly throughout the walk. I just tried to stay at his head out of kicking range.

Once he was walking normal, I removed the hind boot and attached the other hind boot on the other leg. The whole process started all over, because each side of your horse is its own horse. What to you teach on one side, you must teach on the other. I was going to walk him in all four boots, but saw that the boots had rubbed the scabs off his boo boos and they were bleeding. I called it a day and Bombay thanked me.

Here's the link to where I bought the boots if anyone is interested: WholsaleTack.com. These are very easy to get on and off quickly. They are the most durable ones I could find.

Gabbrielle Learns New Steering Cues

I was dead tired after my Monday morning trail ride with Lostine, but I knew I had to get another schooling session in with Gabbrielle before the short work week begins. I keep telling myself that I'm going to ride Gabbrielle every day after work, but then either my boss makes me work late, or I crash on my pillow, or the neighbors are out doing some loud, distracting activity.

I've learned that if I wait until sunset to start working with her, it's too late, because that's when the neighbors come out. They can't stand the heat, so this time of year they stay indoors the majority of the day with the exception of sunrise and sunset, which is right when I need to take care of all my barn chores because of my work schedule. Unfortunately, for Gabbrielle, that means she has to suffer through her schooling in the mid-day and mid-afternoon sun on the weekends, because that's the only time we get some quiet.

It's probably best for the time being, because she's too tired and sweaty to act up, and I'm not doing anything other than walking her and working on steering cues. If I were trotting or loping her for long periods of time, I wouldn't make her do it in this heat. I can also use stopping to rest as a reward, since that's all she wants to do in this heat.

I continued our lesson on doing figure 8s until she was supple and responding to a very slight tightening of the inside rein and a slight touch of my inside leg against her girth. She got to the point where she was just doing the pattern without waiting for the cues from me, so I knew I had to change it up a bit.

I decided to take her back to the rail and keep her on it in both directions. That was easier said than done. The figure 8s were so ingrained at this point that she kept moving off the rail to turn in the center of the round pen. While I previously had been cuing her with a leg and a rein on the same side of her body, I was now asking her to move sideways by pulling the outside rein out to the side and pushing with my inside leg on the other side of her.

This confused her a bit. She didn't know whether to go in the direction of the rein pressure or curl around my leg. So, she just pulled on the rein and respected the leg. I decided to bring the riding crop into the picture and tapped her inside shoulder along with tapping the girth with my inside heel, while guiding her over to the rail with the outside rein. She caught on.

Once we made it all the way around the round pen in both directions while staying on the rail, I stopped her, petted and praised her, and then dismounted. She's really cute like Bombay about me dismounting. Both horses nicker when I dismount. I know they are expressing their joy over getting that fat lady off their backs, so those nickers really crack me up.

Oh yeah, and when I first mounted her at the beginning of the lesson I noticed that the saddle was crooked. Without thinking that I was on a totally green horse, I stood up and leaned to the side in the stirrup and started rocking the saddle upright. Poor Gabbrielle was walking in deep sand and turning at the same time, and with me putting all of my weight on the inside of her turn, we both almost fell over!

Oops. Time to lose a few more pounds. Oh yeah, and we made it through the entire lesson without the neighbors coming outside. They just parted their drapes and watched from their window.

Lostine vs. Chipmunk

I checked my ads for trail riding buddies at the feed store and no one took one with my contact information on it. People around here seem to be really paranoid about riding with other horses and riders. I guess they've all had bad experiences. So, Lostine and I set out on our own again.

I was counting on all the people I didn't want to meet on the trail being at home in bed with hangovers this July 5th. I was right. The trail was the quietest I've ever seen it. You could hear the birds, the bees, the bugs, and the critters scurrying about. No voices, no people whistling for their dogs, no kids running and screaming...

We were completely and utterly alone all the way up the mountain. However, by the time we headed down some of the regulars started showing up with their dogs. The trip was pretty uneventful, which is good, until a chipmunk burst out of the brush and tried to run under Lostine's belly, but instead accidentally ran into her hind leg. Lostine whipped around and tried to bite the chipmunk, but it was too fast for her. Just a warning, if your horse suddenly whips her head around to touch her hind leg, your outside hip and oblique muscle get the brunt of it. One side of you gets smashed while the other side has no choice but to strrrrrreeeeeetch.

After the chipmunk incident, Lostine was hanging her head low to investigate the bushes alongside the trail. She was swinging her head back and forth as if on patrol for critters that might try to take her by surprise. I'm sure she was ready to bite the first thing that moved before it could bite her.

I met up with a man who was cleaning dog poop off the trail. He was with the Trails Association, and Monday was his day to clean. I asked if people are pretty good about cleaning up after their dogs. He said, "Some days are good. Some days not so good."

I said, "It's probably worse after a holiday when people from out of state visit, and they don't bother to read the signs and learn the rules."

He said, "Yeah, the locals are really good about following the rules."

The man was holding a big black plastic trash bag and wore those loose clear plastic gloves on his hands. He approached Lostine. I thought, "This should be interesting."

But then I remembered that Lostine is the only one of my horses to pass her plastic bag desensitization tests. The man first cautiously petted her with his crinkling plastic glove, and then when Lostine didn't show concern, he began rubbing her all over her face and neck, saying, "This is a really nice horse! She's so well behaved. Much nicer than a lot of the horses I meet on the trails. I don't think she's afraid of anything."

Of course, I just smiled to myself at that comment, knowing how many spooks and bucks I've had to ride out and how many balks I've had to push her through to get her to this point. Those were sweet words to hear. I almost got all teary-eyed thinking back to our first trail ride and how far we have both come in our confidence.

I told the man that if I'm leading my horse, I'll stop to kick manure off to the side of the trail, but if I'm riding, it's hard to get off to deal with manure, because unless I can find a bench or a boulder, I can't get back on. He said, "Oh, don't worry about it. We're not concerned about the horse manure at all. It's biodegradable and it blows away on its own to fertilize the plants. We just want to make sure the dog poop is being picked up."

That was good to hear. I'd hate to lose use of a trail because too much horse manure is piling up. It turned out he was in charge of the Tahoe Rim Trail. He recommended that I ride there. I mentioned that I was just hiking the Spooner Loop Trail yesterday to see how far I could go on a horse. He said all the trails in Tahoe are designed for horses and I am welcome to ride on any of them. I didn't tell him about the signs I saw that said, "No horses past this point."

He also said that the Trails Association conducts public workshops in which they educate hikers and bikers on how to behave around horses. He says they train them to speak to the horse, step off to the side to let the horse pass, but stand in the open where the horse can see them. That is exactly what most people do, so their workshops must be successful. I thanked him for all of his work in creating and maintaining places for people to ride. I said that the Fairgrounds are no longer a good place for horses since the county built a motocross track across from the horse arenas. He said, "Yeah, motorcycles aren't exactly conducive to helping out the horseback riders with their hobby."

Unlike the county, the Trails Association understands that, so they don't allow motorized vehicles on their trails. He told me when and where his association meets, so I could volunteer some day. I explained that I'm working 60 hours a week at the moment, so I have little time to spare, but I'm hoping to change careers so that I can free up my time and get more involved in the community. I was actually thinking of joining the Backcountry Horsemen's Association once I get more time, but I think volunteering for the Trails Association would be a good thing too, because I do like to hike a lot and I may as well help maintain the trails while I'm at it.

Lostine says she'd be more than happy to clear the trails of chipmunks.