Author: Amanda C

Y’all… did you know that it’s possible for one day to be 41 hours long? It’s true. That was my Tuwednesday.

After a long, busy day at work on Tuesday, I went home and packed my stuff, then went to the barn and packed Henry’s stuff. Then I spent a really long time saying bye to Presto (I MISS HIM ALREADY 😩), loaded Henry in the trailer, and drove south to rendezvous with my actual ride to Chatt. We unpacked everything from my truck, loaded it into theirs, got all the horses in, and were on our way out of Austin by 10pm, with the goal of meeting up with the rest of our caravan at 1:30am, south of Houston.

I thought maybe I’d be able to doze a bit in the car but yeah no. Apparently when you start to get old, things don’t bend the same way anymore. My back couldn’t take the weird positions that are required for car sleeping, so I didn’t get so much as even a wink.

We stopped again at 4:15 in Louisiana, at which point I took over driving from Trainer. That’s pretty close to when I normally wake up anyway, so I was starting to feel perkier right as she was starting to crash. I drove on across Louisiana through sunrise, and then bam – shredded tire. I pulled off the highway into a parking lot and trainer acted like she was auditioning for NASCAR pitcrew or something… she had that thing changed in like 10 minutes. It was quite impressive. I wish I had videoed it.

After that, everything started blurring together. The cities, the states, the hours… omg. By 11am or so I think delirium was starting to set in, but I wasn’t feeling particularly tired. It’s like my body went “well I guess sleep isn’t a thing we’re doing” and moved on to the next day. Like Europe jet lag but way more boring.

We weren’t actually going straight to Chatt since the show isn’t til this weekend. Instead we’re spending a few days at a really nice farm outside of Birmingham, so the horses can relax and enjoy some turnout after their long trip. We’ve got a covered, a dressage arena, a jumping arena, trails, and some XC jumps. The barn is GORGEOUS. And since it’s for sale, it’s currently empty, meaning we have the entire place to ourselves.

All the horses unloaded great, and after a few minutes in their stalls to settle and drink some water, we turned them out in the nice grassy paddocks. Henny took one look at that grass and was like “bye Felicia”. 14 hours in a trailer will do that, I suppose.

We got ourselves organized in the barn, and then everyone else left to go to the house they’re staying in (about half an hour away) to shower and relax for a bit. I’m staying in the apartment above the barn (because 1. I am the anti-social grump of the group, 2. I’m always up really early anyway, so it makes sense for me to stay here and feed the horses in the mornings.) which is really nice. I took a shower, sat on the couch, and immediately felt myself falling asleep. I didn’t want to nap for too long so I set an alarm on my phone for 45 minutes later, closed my eyes, and I was out like a light.

Twenty minutes in, a distant rumble jolted me out of my nap. I was so discombobulated when I woke up that it took me a minute to remember where the heck I even was, and then I heard a rumble again, but louder this time. I opened my weather app, swore loudly, and leaped for my shoes, slamming my feet into them as I took off down the stairs. Some storms had popped up out of nowhere and were coming fast.

I bolted out to the paddocks, grabbing Henry and the horse next to him. I ran back up the hill with them, threw them in their stalls, and turned to run back out. Right then the sky lit up like the 4th of July. I haven’t seen a lightning show that impressive in a long time. I stopped in my tracks. I still had 6 more horses out, but there was so much lightning that I couldn’t even find a break in it to make a mad dash.

I paced the barn aisle for a few minutes, waiting for a lull, and finally got enough of one. I sprinted like I don’t think I’ve ever sprinted before, grabbing both of Trainer’s horses and running back up the hill with them. Then I had to wait for another lull, dashing back out and grabbing the draft cross and the pony and running THEM in. Now I was sweating, soaked, and freaked out. I hate lightning. A lot.

The two horses left out were down at the bottom of the hill, sort of behind some other paddocks. I bolted down there, leaping over a fallen board and landing ankle deep in mud. When I kept running I realized I was missing a shoe. Screech to a stop. Run back. Grab shoe. Jam bare muddy foot back in and keep running. I wrangled the last two horses (who had little interest in my urgency) and dragged them up the, by now, very long never-ending hill into the barn.

My freaking god. It was like a warrior dash or spartan race or something. I was soaked, muddy, and it felt like I sprained basically everything from the waist down. I do not recommend any of this when you’re running on literally 20 minutes of sleep in the past 36+ hours.

By the time I got the horses in and settled, everyone else arrived to help. We fed, tucked the horses in, I had a very glamorous dinner of cheese and crackers, and then I basically collapsed and died.

So ya know… day 1. Never a dull moment.

By the time this post is published on Wednesday morning, we should be on the road – and hopefully at least half the way – to Chatt! Or actually, our “home” farm for the week near Birmingham. The plan was to leave Tuesday night around 10 and drive overnight (we have plenty of people to switch out shifts) so that the horses don’t roast in the trailer. Henry the delicate flower appreciates that, I’m sure.

This whole trip kind of snuck up on me. Between the MCP show the weekend before last and then Presto’s FEH show last weekend, I have not focused on Chatt at all. Like 0%. I didn’t even start packing until Tuesday afternoon, right before I needed to leave. I have no idea if I got everything, probably not, but hopefully I at least remembered the essentials. (YES MICHELE I GOT MY SADDLES, YOU A-HOLE. That was ONE TIME.)

I have no real plan for this whole excursion at all, since I’m basically along for the ride. I have no scheduled posts in the queue, so if anyone is actually interested I can try to do daily updates from my phone app like I did for Coconino. I’m not sure if y’all care about that or not. But basically I’m not back til the 9th/10th, so everything else besides the Henny adventures comes to a screeching halt.

I was excited to check the mail on Monday and see that a TraumaVoid EQ3 helmet arrived just in time to make the trip with us. Thanks Riding Warehouse! Yeah I know, I just got the One K, but I have to be honest… I don’t really love it. I expected to love it, because it seems like everyone that has one does, but the fit is weird on me, it looks huge, and for some reason it makes sweat drip like a faucet directly into my left eye. The air flow is decent though, and I like the dark brown color. It’s wearable, it’s just definitely not my favorite, so I’m glad I got it cheap.

The EQ3 though, which I was concerned I would NOT like, given the mixed reviews of the fit/profile that I’ve heard so far… I like a lot. The fit is definitely better, and I think it makes me look less bobbleheaded than the OneK. Not as flattering as my Samshield, but I mean, I DO have a big ol’ melon so I always looks bobbleheaded to some degree. The MIPS layer is really interesting too. So the EQ3 made it into my trunk to take with us, and the OneK got left at home. We’ll see how it handles the Southeast heat and humidity. Stay tuned.

OH – one last thing while I’m thinking about it! The Central FEH Championships is still looking for sponsors. I know a lot of business owners are readers, so I’m throwing this out there for you guys (or for anyone who might want to sponsor privately, I suppose). Link to sponsorship info/form is here: Central FEH Championships. This is the first year for a Central championship and it looks like it’s going to be fairly well attended, so hopefully we can make it a good one!

Last Friday I had the vet come out to get all of Henry’s paperwork in order for our trip to Georgia, and asked him to look at a few general things on Presto while he was there.

Henry was quick and easy, just some paperwork, a health certificate, and a look in his mouth. And we had our annual talk about how he’s been handing the heat, and why the horse is so damn weird. The vet thought he looked really good (aside from where the hair all fell out on his face because I dared to try Equiderma when I ran out of his usual tea tree spray… so that’s cool right before a show…) and we decided we’d wait and do his teeth after we get back since there was nothing urgent happening in there.

Henry got to go back to his stall, and I nabbed Presto to drag him inside. I wanted to check a few things on him – mostly just a bunch of little things and a general wellness check, because I will never stop being completely insane when it comes to this horse.

First he felt him up again, to see if there’s been any progress on the inguinal ring on that stubborn right side. He said he thinks it feels better, and gave the go-ahead to geld him once the weather cools down. So, like… October/November probably. We still haven’t had any colt-related problems with him, and he seems happy living with his donkeys, so that’s fine. Honestly, development-wise it’s probably better that we wait a little longer anyway. Maybe some of that testosterone will kick in and help his topline? A girl can dream.

I also stood there and drilled the vet over basically every tiny little thing. Does that leg look crooked to you? I mean yeah I know it’s normal for them to toe out before the chest sprouts, but is it TOO toed-out? What about the hocks? What about this foot? What about how he’s wearing this hoof down? Will you look in his mouth, he’s been making weird faces lately?

And so on and so on. The poor vet, he was looking at me like I was the top nominee for Crazy Horse Lady of the Week. I was just like, look, this is going to happen pretty much every time you’re here so get used to it and I’m sorry. I can’t help it.

The only thing the vet really agreed with me on, as far as being slightly concerning, was the fact that his coat is kind of rough-looking in a couple places. He liked the deworming schedule that I’ve done and didn’t think he looked particularly wormy, but agreed that I should go ahead and send in a fecal sample next week (which I was gonna do anyway). I asked him if it would be worthwhile to run a full blood panel, just to be sure nothing looked weird, and he said that he didn’t think there would be anything abnormal on the results but agreed that it couldn’t hurt.

So we pulled some blood (while Presto gave me the evil eye), and that’s about it. Nothing looked weird in his mouth, although the vet did note that he already has some big ass wolf teeth in there. I won’t be putting a bridle on him until those come out.

Maybe that was money I didn’t really need to spend, but it makes me feel better. I see Presto every day and tend to worry about every tiny little thing. We’ll see if the bloodwork shows anything “off” – hopefully not – and then I’ll nab a poo sample for the fecal. After that I’m done being crazy. Well, probably not. But hey, at least the vet is making some money off of my craziness?

Well that was definitely an adventure! And one that went about as well as I could have possibly ever hoped.

Presto got a mega deep clean scrubby bath on Saturday, which seemed to annoy both of us equally. I’m so glad he only has one tiny white sock. Obviously it’s been a while since I’ve had a show horse with any leg white, because I forgot how freaking annoying it is to scrub socks and try to keep them clean. Plain bays forever. But I got him clean, brushed all the burrs out of his forelock (OMG the debris that thing can hold, it’s like a big puffy tangle of velcro) and told him not to get too dirty overnight.

Sunday morning I was out at the barn by 6am, and managed to get him fed, hitch up the trailer, check and put air in my trailer tires, load my stuff, bring him in, groom him, braid him (the Quick Knot did AMAZING – stayed in perfectly for all 8 hours of our day and were so quick and easy to put in/take out with a wiggly baby), get after his orange tail with some black spray, and get him loaded, all in under an hour. There was some initial screaming but by the time I got on the highway he was settled and munching hay, which he did the entire rest of the 2.5 hour drive. Thank you kiddo for being a good hauler.

The trip was delightfully uneventful, and we got to the facility, parked, I went to check in, and then unloaded. Presto took a quick look around, let his presence be known with a trumpeting neigh (like, really though, my eardrums), and went straight to grazing. Pretty crazy, this baby horse.

We arrived with about an hour to kill until our class time, so I just let him hang out and graze until about 20 minutes before. Then it was back to the trailer for another quick brush off, a halter change, some hoof oil, and I grabbed my whip and helmet.

But everything was running a bit behind, so we went back to the real serious business: NOMS.

Finally it was our turn in the ring, by which point I was dripping sweat. Thankfully Presto was pretty well behaved. A little wiggly at times for all the standing parts, but nothing too dramatic. Of course, by the time he’d stood out in the baking sand ring in the midday Texas summer sun for a while, he didn’t have much fire in him for the walk and trot. He did his best impression of a pokey hunter. Which would be great if they weren’t looking for uphill dressage type gaits with impulsion.

After we were done I went and tied him to the trailer again and then watched some of the older horses go while we waited for scores. At one point while I was standing next to the ring I caught part of a conversation between the judge and the organizer, with him telling her not to think he’d lost his mind with the scoring, that at a show a few weeks ago he’d scored only one or two in the 70’s, with the rest in the 60’s. My heart kind of sank at that, interpreting it to mean that the scores were really low. I didn’t go to the show expecting a qualifying score (which is 72 or higher), in fact I actually didn’t think Presto would get one, but, ya know… hope springs eternal? The judge was Peter Gray, one of the Championship judges from last year and will be again this year as well, so I know he’s legit and can be tough. I also knew that my yearling definitely looked gawkier and less developed than everyone else’s did. In a sea of Irish babies, a mostly-TB-with-a-little-warmblood definitely looks… different. Legs twice as long, body half the mass.

So I was pretty floored when I got his score sheet and saw that he’d scored a 75.95 (at what point do we get to round up to 76?). He was last of the 4 yearlings, of course, I knew he would be, but they were all within a few points of each other and had some good scores. The judge said the overall quality of the group was very good.

Looking at the score sheet and the comments, I agree with all of it. Presto’s biggest strength is definitely his type, he LOOKS like an event horse, but he’s pretty awkward right now development-wise, especially in his topline (or lack thereof) and that showed up in his frame score. That part just might not come until he’s older, honestly. And despite not really showing his gaits as well as I know he can, he scored decently enough there, and then got a nice score for general impression too.

I can’t complain about that. For one of the Championship judges to give him a good enough score to essentially stamp Presto’s ticket, it’s a compliment. It means he thinks the horse is good enough to want to see him again in September, and he will. FEH Championships, here we come!

Really though, the way Presto handled the whole day was just as exciting as getting a qualifying score. He hauled great both ways, loaded easily both ways (I did all of this ALONE, btw), drank well, ate all of his hay, and stood at the trailer like a champ. That’s really what it’s all about.

I made kind of a weird observation while watching the Upperville live feed a few weeks ago, and have continued to build on this observation since. While just about everyone patted their horses after their rounds (which made my heart happy, because #alwayspatyourpony) the particular style of patting seemed to always fall into a few certain categories. Some discreet, some aggressive, some flamboyant. So what were the main styles I noticed?

The Rubber

These people are the most subtle, generally just reaching slightly forward with one hand and rubbing the horse’s neck or withers discreetly with their knuckles or a few fingers. It was quick, it was quiet, it was to-the-point, and it didn’t require taking a hand off the reins. Usually because taking a hand off the reins might result in imminent death of the rider and/or some spectators.

The PitterPatter

One step up from The Rubber, the PitterPatter takes one hand off the reins and reach out for a nice soft little *patpat* or *rubrub*. Still quiet, still soft and sweet, but with a little less “I fear for my life right now” to it. These are the perfect people to use the Instagram Superzoom filter on. Much purple fuzz, many sparkles.

The Crossover

Along the same lines as your PitterPatter, the Crossover takes it one (crooked) step farther and reaches one hand across to pat or rub the opposite side of the neck. Sometimes they do one side first, and then the other, other times they just go straight across. This is my own particular style of patting although I can’t tell you why the heck I have to pat the left side of the neck with my right hand. There is no rhyme or reason. I think I just like being crooked.

The Monkey

The Monkey is the rider who leans forward (sometimes abandoning ship and dropping both reins, other times not) to give a hearty, usually two-handed rub or pat. Typically the pats are accompanied by such phrases as “I LOVE YOU SO MUCH” or “YOU’RE THE BEST BOY” and an ear-to-ear grin. Extreme cases of The Monkey can turn into The Hugger, taken just one step further with a full-on embrace of the neck.

The Smacker

Ok I’m gonna be sexist for a minute and say that this is most common with professional male riders who have just won some money, but you know what I’m talking about. They give one or two BIG SMACKS on the neck, usually followed by some kind of spectacular fist-pump or (my preference) a finger pointed down at the horse in credit. This one is generally more of a celebratory style, reserved for special occasions.

 

There are some variations on all of these of course, but… these are the main ones I’ve noticed. So what kind of patter are you?