Introductions & a Not So Brief Background

They say that something about the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man, and after being virtually horseless for a few years, this girls insides didn’t know what to do with themselves.  I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that without riding, my life just didn’t feel right.  My whole life I had eaten, slept and breathed horses.  As a horse crazy girl, I “had it made” growing up.  Always had my own ponies in my own back yard, with more land to ride on than I could seem to travel.  Every weekend and even week days I was very involved with the local 4-H and Pony Clubs, and took lessons religiously.  We lost the farm when my parents divorced and I started boarding my horses (they also say you never know what you have until it’s gone).  My passion in riding stayed strong all through high school, but losing my OTTB “Elvis” to colic my senior year of high school not only broke my heart, but broke my spirit.  (But this is another story for another day.)  Not to mention my trusty steed "Skip" who I had handed down to my mother when I bought Elvis since Skip could no longer jump the height I needed had to be put down due to an injury.  (Also another story for another day).  Without having a consistent horse to ride of my own, trying to complete college, and working full time, riding was forced to the back burner.   Now I won't say that one day I woke up and decided that it was indeed interaction with these (nothing short of) amazing animals and riding that my life was missing, but what I will say is that now that I’m back at it, it has brought a lot of the joy back into my life that I had felt a void for.  I've seen many other equine bloggers talking about how riding is their “therapy” and I couldn’t agree more.  Riding keeps me level-headed and down to earth (not to mention I am back to being just as horse crazy as I was when I was younger!).  Long story short, I began looking for a project and came out with an un-broke appendix QH, “Jesse James” who I absolutely adore.  We have already been through quite a process this past summer and I want to document every move and memory.  This blog is meant to document this process, to remind myself of the hard times, and to remember how far we have come, not to mention some light humor some might find in my ramblings.

So….. where to begin??

 

Act 1:  The Beginning of the Un-named and Un-tamed

Mito Movin was first spotted online for WAY too much money for an unbroke and very green horse, and although I notice that he was indeed a very handsome and well put together gelding, he didn’t get a second look due to my spending limits.  My mother (from who I inherited my horse-crazed brain) saw the same horse a month later on the same site and the price had dropped significantly.  I contacted the seller and he was picked up from near St. Louis the very next day.

“Mito” as they called him, was gorgeous in all his *roughly* 16 hand, 3 year old green-bean beauty.  Not to mention he was bay, as were my heart-horses before.  My heart melted instantly.  We watched him tear around an outdoor arena and then worked him on a lounge line just in a halter.  For the most part he minded his manners but it was obvious he needed a lot of work.  He loaded in the trailer no problem and away we went.

The ride home was all talk about how he most certainly needed a new name, what kind of name is Mito anyway?  Naming the new horse took a lot longer than expected, but was only the minimum of our problems.

Now, horses are nothing new to my family and I, so we were not surprised when said cheap and green “Un-named” had his fair share of issues, first and foremost being attitude with a capital A.  Upon arrival home (after a flat tire on the trailer on the interstate) we got Un-named unloaded and began settling him in.  Not knowing much about the horse we took our time, mostly just observing.  As I gave him a tour of his new digs I noticed some aggressive behaviors.  He would stomp his feet repeatedly with more force than clearly necessary.  He would also swing his head around also as if to ward off flies, but in his 3 year old brain this was his form of intimidation and somewhere along the line, it had obviously worked on someone.  However, at this point Un-named had not realized that he had met his match.

Over the next few days I spent time just getting to know him and figuring out his quirks.  We started with lots and I mean LOTS of consistent ground work.  This was as new to me as it was to him.  Ground work was never stressed enough in my equine education and now I see the clear importance.  At first, putting the still unnamed horse to work on the ground was very stressful for him.  Asking him to do anything and to do it NOW would send him immediately into a sweat and several times he even broke into hives!  Within these few days I discovered his biggest problem was trust.  He didn't trust me or my step father (who I work with very closely through this process) or anyone else for that matter.  And he made it clear that trust wasn't going to be something he was going to give, it would have to be earned.

Our eyes were opened to this within the first few days when Un-named kicked me very much on purpose.  I will admit that there were warning signs that I did not see, of course hind sight is 20-20.  Long story short, I was attempting to pick up his feet to pick them, and his feet were HIS.  The struggle began when trying to pick up his back feet.  They were firmly planted and it took a lot of coaxing to get them off the ground.  Once off the ground it was immediately cocked into kicking position.  Once he decided he had had enough of me messing with them, he kicked.  Luckily I was able to spin out of the way and he barely nicked the top of my thumb.  Instantly it turned black and blue and swelled, naturally.

Now, I have never had any experience with any horses with a kicking problem, so within the first few days I've had one learning experience after another.  Once the kicking issue had become unveiled ground work (we referred to it as "Hell Week") focused on desensitizing Un-named especially in his feet.  My step father in the process also received a kick, right to the gut.  Horse is ridiculously quick with his feet: noted.  I couldn't help but being frustrated at this point and I started to have my doubts about the trainability of the horse and if I was in over my head.  Luckily neither of us were seriously injured and persistence pays off.  Every day we concentrated on creating a positive experience for him and he began making steps in the right direction.  He quickly learned that being rubbed on the star on his head was a release and reward for good behavior and would walk to me, drop his head, and "ask" for it.  It's the little things that keep you going! 

We later enlisted the help of a trainer in the area who I will refer to as Cowboy, just a better mental picture and entertainments sake.  Cowboy is well known for his expertise in colt starting, who also happened to be a good friend of my step fathers.  About a month later we trailered Un-named (starting to feel quite silly about not having a name for the poor guy, while mother is still emailing me pages and pages of names, I keep saying, I will know it when I hear it and it will stick), who is still not broke mind you,  to a boarding stable in the area to let said trainer have a session with him.  This is where the real fun begins.

Act 2:  The Almost End All Injury  (WARNING!  Pictures in this section are not for the squeamish.)

My hopes were high that day that Cowboy would work his magic and Un-named would be over his kicking issue  before days end.  The experience ended up being anything but magical.  I walked Un-named into the round pen, Cowboy introduced himself and got to work.  Now, I'm not exactly sure why anyone though it would be a good idea to work a green horse with a kicking issue in a round pen, but within the first 15 minutes Un-named was a sweaty, worried, borderline hive-y mess.  Cowboy proceeded to work with him, free lounging as the crazed horse who was flying around the round pen at break neck speeds.  I was cringing, teeth clenched, watching through my fingers. 

Next step on Cowboys agenda was to address the feet.  What he was trying to accomplish was to lasso one of Un-named's feet and make him come to a dead stop.  In theory this is was to help him understand that we can control him by his feet.  This turned into rope getting slightly tangled in the horses feet, which freaked him out more, which meant more rushing, then upon realizing that running away from it was helping he began kicking and jumping around like a complete lunatic.  Un-named managed to get both of his outside legs through the round pen multiple times while running and in all one swift movement cut a gash in his right front cannon bone deeper than I have ever seen in my life, not to mention multiple superfical (thankfully) wounds on his right rear stifle and hock.  He never fell down, and didn't stop running until all the scary things stopped scaring him which didn't stop until we saw the blood.

Immediately his right front hoof was dyed bright red with blood.  To put it plainly, I was pissed.  I marched in, grabbed my horse and walked him out of the round pen to the nearest hose.  Cowboy was in toe clearly concerned.  The first time I got a clear look at the gash I was stunned.  His tendon was clearly exposed.  It was a miracle he was walking.  I calmed him down the best I could and flushed the wound. People watching the "magic" were rushing around for the emergency kit and barn owner was already on the phone with the vet.  We did the best we could to cover it as quickly as possible and put him in a stall.

The wait for the vet was awful.  As hard as I tried I could not control my emotions.  I was a wreck.  Pacing the aisle near his stall, upset, sad, angry, heart broken, and anxiety ridden was how I waited for the over 2 hours for the vet to arrive.  I knew the injury was bad, but when the vet arrived what seemed like years later she made it clear how lucky he was.

After a favorable dose of loopy-meds and even local anesthetic to the wound, Un-named looked like a drunk, but still knew it hurt.  When the vet began flushing the wound with sterile solution and her other potions he would stomp his foot as hard as he physically could.  Even I was scared for the vets toes.  After she got a good look at it, she let us know that it appeared that he had not done any damage to the newly exposed tendon by some grace of God, but if he had she would have to recommend euthanasia.  After sutures, stitches, staples, and more stomping Un-named was sentenced to stall rest for at least a month.  I have to praise her, she did a great job closing up the wound and treated it well.  For the first experience with this vet, I would recommend to all.  We waited for him to come back for La-La Land, loaded him, and headed home.

 It was hard to stay positive after this catastrophe.  It was not only a major set back but the last thing he needed and the last thing I ever expected.  The one positive I could take away was that at least it wasn't on his back leg.

Act 3: The Recovery and Discovery

Having pastures to run in and not being  in a stall constantly (which he was at his old home) had made Un-named much more manageable.  Now it was back to the stall, which always creates issues for any horse.  Within a couple days he had popped open his stitches and not taking any chances, back to the vet he went.  Unfortunately I was at work during this occurrence so trusty step father handled the whole situation.  I am thankful for him in the fact that he was very reassuring during the whole issue.  (Still) Un-named came back from the vet without staples but with clear instructions for re-wrap the wound daily at first, applying ointment along with it.  He was wrapped every day with non-stick telsa pads, gauze, vet wrap, pillow wrap and polo.  Un-named tolerated everything but the pillow wrap and polo, which he tore to shreds.  The pillow wrap and polo were ditched and we made sure the vet wrap was secure which he never messed with.

Slowly but surely the wound began healing.  We had to hope and pray that it didn't get infected which would more than likely be fatal.  Again, by some grace of god the wound never became infected, but did start to show some rather gross proud flesh.  (Rubbing ointment on this during the re-wrapping process was enough to make anyone gag.)  After consulting the vet yet again, we decided it was time to start applying caustic powder to dry up the proud flesh which assisted the wound in closing greatly.  More wrapping.  Every other day now.

At this point, a few weeks later, step father couldn't bear keeping him cooped up any longer and built a very small enclosure out of round pen panels (ironically) in his pasture.  The enclosure wasn't really any bigger than his stall to prevent him from running around, but at least he could now be outside.  

Un-named never took a lame step on his leg, and still to this day hasn't.  In my eyes it was nothing short of a miracle.  But more good came out of this near tragedy than what anyone could have expected.  We got to know each other, spend more time together, which slowly built trust on both ends.  I now know his different moods and what some of his actions mean.  This taught me when to recognize when I have pushed him too far and should stop to not create a fight, or recognize when I know he can still give me more.  He learned to be tolerant of me and anyone else handling him.  He also learned that we are not here to hurt him, but only to help.

His leg healed fine.  There is still a small scar which right now isn't growing any hair, but I'm hoping by spring when he sheds out that will prompt new hair to grow.

Act 4:  Starting Over and Making Great Progress

Once he was well enough to start back to work I started him all over again as if he wouldn't remember anything he learned before his injury.  He was happy to be back to work!  He came along just great.  The kicking issue was now a non issue, however we are still mindful of those quick hind legs.  He picked up almost where we had left off and wasn't the sweaty, worried mess that he used to be.  He has an easier time trusting me, but it's still something I can't take for granted, and he's quick to remind me sometimes!  We have hardly started in our journey to making him the great horse I know he can be and we have already learned so much from each other.  

We began introducing the saddle and working him in it.  Now, I have always been an English rider.  I rode Western only once a year at the 4-H County Fair just for funs sake.  I'm even the one trail riding in a English saddle amongst the Western saddles.  It's my comfort zone.  But if he learns with a big bulky not to mention heavy Western saddle, an English saddle will be no big deal down the road.  He adjusted to it quickly.  Didn't mind the stirrups banging his sides, but he had to think about the back cinch.  Never did he offer to buck with the saddle on his back.  We have not yet introduced the bit and decided we would ride him for the first time in a side pull.  A little different from a hackmore but the same concept.

Finally Halloween weekend he was ready for his first ride.  After much consideration from me, we trailered him back to the barn where he got his injury with same Cowboy trainer.  Cowboy was impressed with his improvement and agreed he was ready to get on.  I was so proud and happy to be the first one on his back.  Cowboy was on his horse while I was on (yes, still) Un-named.  Cowboy would use his horse to push mine around if at any point in time he wasn't paying attention to what I was telling him.  Everything went great but we did have one small hiccup.  It's obviously just not our fashion to complete a task without at least some sort of entertainment.

At one point, Un-named decided to completely brace against the side pull and not bring his head around to the pressure I was applying through the rein, got tangled in his own feet and fell down to the ground.  I'm still on his back and he pretty much landed on my left leg.  I was able to hop off and he got up, un-fazed.  I limped it off and got back on and finished the ride.  The only damage done to me was a bruised foot and toes.  I limped around for about a week and was otherwise fine.  It was a fun story to explain to co-workers who are always so interested in my silly horse stories.  That day I went home a happy and proud momma of a 3 year old who had a successful first ride.