"Ponying" the Pony

My goal is to ride all three horses at least three times a week. Ideally, I'd like to ride them all four times a week, but between my work schedule and the nasty weather we've been having, that just seems a bit unrealistic.

The one who suffers most from my lack of time is Jaava. I ride Murray to keep the "old guy's" lungs opened up and his arthritis at bay. I ride Maggie to keep her quiet and workable for Dave. Then, if I have time, I ride Jaava. I really enjoy riding her, but I'm a bit big for her stubby pony legs, so I don't like to work her too hard under-saddle (at least that's my excuse). However, when I saw her waddle in from the pasture the other day, I realized she needs more exercise. I vowed to either lunge or ride her every day...even if it's just for 20 minutes.

Saturday June 11, 2011
It's a warm, sunny, Saturday evening. I worked all day, and am now putting the rest of my energy to use riding Maggie. I didn't lunge Jaava this morning, and it will probably be almost dark by the time I get Maggie put away. I start to feel guilty. It was just yesterday that I vowed to give "the pony" more exercise.

As Maggie and I serpentine around the ring at a trot, my mind drifts, and I try to think of ways to make more time for Jaava. Then, I get an idea.

I yell up to Dave who's puttering about in his workshop. I ask him to catch Jaava in the pasture, and bring her down to the riding ring. It's almost supper time and Jaava thinks she's coming in for her evening meal. She seems a little bewildered though when Dave turns her down the hill toward Maggie and me.


Dave leads Jaava up to where Maggie and I are standing in the centre of the ring. Maggie nickers softly and turns her head to nuzzle the pony's nose. Jaava gives a short sniff in response, then turns her head to look up at me. She's likely trying to figure out what's going on. I reach down and take the leadline from Dave's hand. I hold it in my right hand, along with my right rein, and I nudge Maggie with my legs. She moves forward obligingly and I hope the pony will follow. The lead line tightens and Jaava startles a bit as she's tugged forward alongside of Maggie.

We walk like this for a minute or so, then I tell Maggie to "whoa". Both she and Jaava instantly come to a halt. I'd forgotten how well Jaava listens to voice commands. I prepare for us to walk forward again, but this time I say "walk on" out loud so Jaava will know what to expect and won't be unwittingly dragged forward like she was the first time.


We do a few more walk-halt transitions together, along with some turns and circles. The "girls" seem to be getting the hang of this side-by-side routine, so I figure it's time to step it up a notch. I cluck my tongue and say "t-rot" in the same sing-songy voice I use when I'm lunging them. Jaava's hesitant, and likely a bit confused, but after a lag of a second or two (during which time Maggie picks up a trot), her pony legs propel her into the faster gait as well. She has to move at a pretty good clip to keep up with Maggie, even though she's on the inside. This will give her a workout.

After a few minutes, we've mastered this one-rider pas-de-deux, and are managing some nice walk/ trot and even trot/ halt transitions. Maggie seems thrilled to have a companion with her in the ring. Jaava, however, turns her ears sideways and slightly back, and seems thoroughly humiliated at having to trundle along in Maggie's dusty wake. I think it will be awhile before we're ready to do canter work together, but at least I'm able to spend 15-20 minutes exercising two horses at once.


Oddly enough, the one who seems most disturbed by this new training routine is Murray. With both girls in the ring, he has no one to boss around. He whinnies frantically, and, alone in his pasture, he abandons the grass and trots back and forth along the fence line that overlooks the riding ring. I'm not too worried about his behaviour though. When I think about, I guess it's good. This way I'm actually exercising all three of them at once.

Turn-out Rituals

Scenario 1: I turn Murray out first in the morning: He skittishly prances alongside of me as we head to the pastures. Once there, I stand on my tip-toes trying to lift the crown-piece of his halter over his head which is raised, giraffe-like, to its highest height, scanning the horizon for early-morning bogeymen. With the halter half-off, he jumps in fright at some invisible monster, slipping out of the halter, and smacking me in the head with his chin.

I leave to go get Maggie. Murray, tail raised, neck still held high, runs back and forth along the fence-line. His nostrils flare and vibrate as an anguished high-pitched, trumpet-like cry is released from his trembling frame. Maggie may or may not return the call.

I reach Maggie's stall. The trumpet-like cries continue from outside, accompanied by the drum-like beat of hooves pounding their way across the frozen ground. Maggie leisurely walks beside me toward the gate.

Murray's loud calls become whisper-like, eager nickers. His ears are pricked and his legs tremble as he waits for his companion to be released into the field. The moment I slide the halter from Maggie's obliging head, Murray pins his ears, bares his teeth, chases Maggie to her appointed position in the pasture, and swaggers away to eat hay from his chosen pile.

Scenario 2: I turn Maggie out first. Maggie lumbers along beside me as we make our way to the pasture gate. She occasionally stretches her lips, and by extension her neck, to grasp at stray pieces of grass. I slip off her halter. She meanders from hay pile to hay pile, then returns to the fence to wait for Murray to select one for her.

In the meantime, Murray whinnies anxiously from the barn. The swish of sawdust between his never-still hooves can be heard even from outside as he spins frantically in his stall. I crack open his stall door and he absently shoves his head through the opening, allowing me one brief chance to throw the halter over his head before he attempts to blast through the door. I push him back, yell at him, demand that he behave, and he sulkily relents, walking calmly (relatively speaking) beside me. I cannot, however, manage to silence his tortured whinny.

We round the corner toward the pasture. He and Maggie lock eyes. She stands at the fence defeated, accepting of her role as the bully's subservient best friend/accomplice. I lead Murray through the gate, I stand on my tiptoes trying to lift the halter off his fully extended giraffe-like neck. He loses patience and yanks himself toward Maggie, ducking his head out of the halter, which flies through the air and smacks me in the head.

Murray ushers Maggie to her allotted hay pile (or sometimes to a desolate corner away from all hay piles), turns his back on her and begins to munch contentedly-- periodically shaking his head toward his black mare should she dare step from her designated location.

Magnanimous Maggie

Saturday, March 13, 2010

After last weekend's shenanigans, http://citylimitstories.blogspot.com/2010/03/mello-murray-and-mischievous-maggie.html , I admit, I had some doubts about Maggie, but this big black mare is definitely growing on me. I've been riding her everyday. Everyday I teach her something new, and always, she remembers it the next time I ride.

On Thursday, Maggie is so good that I venture down the road with her to cool out. It's our first experience outside of the confines (and relative safety) of a ring. Dave is off at work, so if something goes wrong, I'm on my own. But as it turns out, there's no need to worry.

As we leave the driveway, Murray, with his high-pitched whinny, calls to her from the pasture. She hesitates, but with a nudge from my leg, and a reassuring pat on the neck, she's on her way again. She plods along as leisurely as ever, looking curiously from side-to-side (probably in search of something edible in the ditch). When we turn to come home, her pace stays exactly the same. Unlike Murray, there's no anxious rush to get back. I start to wonder how she'll ever keep up with Murray on a trail ride. Oh well, better too slow than too fast right now.

On Friday, I ride Maggie again, and decide it's time to try a canter. She's unsure as to what I'm asking from her, but eventually she figures it out, and her short legs propel her into the three-beated gate. We do one long-side of the ring in each direction. She's on the wrong lead both times, but there's plenty of time to work on technique later.

After the burst of energy required for the canter, Maggie is huffing and puffing, and sweating. Once again I take her down the road to cool down. This time we meet a car. Maggie watches with interest as it moves toward her, bumping over pot-holes on its way. I wonder how she'll react when it passes by us, but I don't get the chance to find out. It turns into our neighbour's driveway. Maggie (who still hasn't taken her eyes off this burgundy coloured beast) tries to turn in the driveway to follow it. I see the driver lifting groceries from the backseat, and wonder if it's actually the food Maggie's after. The rest of the ride down the road is much the same, plodding and uneventful.

Saturday comes and Dave is asking to ride "his horse" for the first time. I'm hesitant. Despite her progress, Maggie's still very green. I've only been on her back eight or nine times, and Dave is a beginner rider, with only a few more rides under his belt than Maggie. But, I decide we can give it a try.

I ride her first, and this time, when I ask her to canter, she knows exactly what I mean. We canter the whole way around in each direction-- still on the wrong lead, but we'll fix that later. She also goes on the bit at the walk, and somewhat at the trot. I'm impressed, and I let her know it with continuous pats on the neck and cries of "good girl".

When I finish, I reluctantly hand her over to Dave. She's doing to so well, I realize I almost don't want to share her. Nevertheless, we bought her for Dave, so I might as well give them the chance to get used to each other. Dave rides around at the walk until he gets a feel for her steering and brakes, then he tries a little trot. He does a good job, but it's clear by the worried look on Maggie's face that she's a bit unnerved by his lack of balance and skill. She doesn't bolt off or buck, or do anything bad though. Her only bad habit is that she keeps trying to turn into the middle toward me.

All in all it's a very good day. We reward Maggie by releasing her back into the sunny pasture with Murray. We reward ourselves by sipping a bottle of wine underneath the arbour overlooking the ring.