Just found out my landlords are having my house exterminated tomorrow. If anyone needs me, I'll be the girl shut in her office with two dogs, a cat, and 2 mouse cages.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
New (part-time) job!
So, nobody gets excited about taking on a second job. Right? Especially one that you have to get up at 5:00 AM for, so that you can still work your regular 8 AM - 5 PM job?
Well, this kid right here does.
I was recently hired to halter-break and gentle 6 2012 AQHA foals, and I finally got to start yesterday. In the 108 degree heat. I'm pretty sure I almost fainted at least once, which is not a good thing to do around babies and their mamas. So, I scrapped the idea of going out after work and decided to get up early and go out when it was cooler (say, 85 degrees instead).
And it made a HUGE difference.
Now, on to more important stuff: the foals. I don't currently have the papers on the mares or the sires, but I think they're all pretty cow-bred. We have:
Eliza, blue roan filly, named after the ELIZAs that the lab has to run that are apparently a pain in the you-know-what (great). She's pretty outgoing and curious, but I hear she can be a big stinker. Her mama is Gloria, a blue roan mare (named after the hippo in Madagascar).
Prim, bay filly, named after Primrose in The Hunger Games. My favorite! She is sweet, very pretty, baby-doll head. She's a tiny bit timid, but in a good way, if that makes sense. Her dam is DJ, a bay mare. I'm not sure what she's named after, so I'm going to go with "Full House".
Glimmer, grulla filly, named after Glimmer (duh) in The Hunger Games. She has the narrowest face I think I've ever seen on a horse. She is very shy, but she will come up to you if you squat down. We made progress in that she will let us pet her neck now, if we move slowly and are not standing. Her dam is Marti, a grulla mare named after the zebra in Madagascar.
Catnip, sorrel filly, named after Katniss in The Hunger Games. She is my roommate's favorite. She is the most laid-back of the foals, and I've been able to halter her both days I've gone out. Not without her share of freak-outs, mind you- she has given me a few good rears- but generally, she has no fear of people and will follow you around, with or without the halter. Her dam is Julian, a sorrel mare (seeing a trend here?) named after the king lemur in Madagascar. Julian is also the most laid-back mare (ahh, we can breed for personality!), and the shortest (coincidence?).
Kit-Kat, liver chestnut filly, named because she is Catnip's little shadow. She was born premature, so she is the smallest, despite being one of the older ones. She is probably the second most laid-back, and even more so if Catnip is around. Her mama is very protective of her, however, so until she gets weaned, it's hard to do too much with her. Mama is Griffin, a bay mare (and my favorite of the broodmares). I don't know who/what she's named after. Perhaps an actual Griffin.
Kyle, bay colt (the one and only), named after a former grad student. He is the youngest and the most timid of all the babies. Getting him to come up to me today was a huge step for him, as he just has no interest in people. His dam is a sweet mare named MoJo (male hippo in Madagascar, poor thing) that reminds me of Chica, except she also has no real interest in people. Funny how that works!
I don't have tons of current pictures of them yet, but these are what I do have!
And, because I don't think there are enough pics, here are a couple of pictures of my guys:
On a final note, I got back to the house last night to find Fiona in her kennel with her collar stuck in her mouth- she had somehow gotten her bottom jaw hung up in it, probably because she was trying to chew it. She was freaking out, obviously, and had blood all over her paws from where the collar had been rubbing her gums. I too freaked out, managed to get the collar off her with only one moderate bite (didn't break the skin), and gave her a bath- and she was totally fine. But I guess I won't be crating her with her collar, anymore. Do they make break-away collars for Corgis??
Well, this kid right here does.
I was recently hired to halter-break and gentle 6 2012 AQHA foals, and I finally got to start yesterday. In the 108 degree heat. I'm pretty sure I almost fainted at least once, which is not a good thing to do around babies and their mamas. So, I scrapped the idea of going out after work and decided to get up early and go out when it was cooler (say, 85 degrees instead).
And it made a HUGE difference.
Now, on to more important stuff: the foals. I don't currently have the papers on the mares or the sires, but I think they're all pretty cow-bred. We have:
Eliza, blue roan filly, named after the ELIZAs that the lab has to run that are apparently a pain in the you-know-what (great). She's pretty outgoing and curious, but I hear she can be a big stinker. Her mama is Gloria, a blue roan mare (named after the hippo in Madagascar).
Prim, bay filly, named after Primrose in The Hunger Games. My favorite! She is sweet, very pretty, baby-doll head. She's a tiny bit timid, but in a good way, if that makes sense. Her dam is DJ, a bay mare. I'm not sure what she's named after, so I'm going to go with "Full House".
Glimmer, grulla filly, named after Glimmer (duh) in The Hunger Games. She has the narrowest face I think I've ever seen on a horse. She is very shy, but she will come up to you if you squat down. We made progress in that she will let us pet her neck now, if we move slowly and are not standing. Her dam is Marti, a grulla mare named after the zebra in Madagascar.
Catnip, sorrel filly, named after Katniss in The Hunger Games. She is my roommate's favorite. She is the most laid-back of the foals, and I've been able to halter her both days I've gone out. Not without her share of freak-outs, mind you- she has given me a few good rears- but generally, she has no fear of people and will follow you around, with or without the halter. Her dam is Julian, a sorrel mare (seeing a trend here?) named after the king lemur in Madagascar. Julian is also the most laid-back mare (ahh, we can breed for personality!), and the shortest (coincidence?).
Kit-Kat, liver chestnut filly, named because she is Catnip's little shadow. She was born premature, so she is the smallest, despite being one of the older ones. She is probably the second most laid-back, and even more so if Catnip is around. Her mama is very protective of her, however, so until she gets weaned, it's hard to do too much with her. Mama is Griffin, a bay mare (and my favorite of the broodmares). I don't know who/what she's named after. Perhaps an actual Griffin.
Kyle, bay colt (the one and only), named after a former grad student. He is the youngest and the most timid of all the babies. Getting him to come up to me today was a huge step for him, as he just has no interest in people. His dam is a sweet mare named MoJo (male hippo in Madagascar, poor thing) that reminds me of Chica, except she also has no real interest in people. Funny how that works!
I don't have tons of current pictures of them yet, but these are what I do have!
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| Baby Catnip! |
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| Preemie Kit Kat and DJ |
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| Griffin pushing baby Prim (and effectively moving me out of the way) |
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| Gloria, in all her glory (har har) |
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| (Sleepy) baby Eliza! |
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| Foals and their mommas |
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| Eliza, before losing her baby fuzz |
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| A better look at Glimmer's markings, before losing her fuzz |
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| Me getting swarmed by Glimmer and Prim, with Eliza doing a sneak attack from the back |
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| Glimmer and my roommate |
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| Double scratches for Catnip and Kit-Kat! |
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| My sweet girls |
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| Ramses wants to know why you're watching him bathe |
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| The cuddly Corgi and her amazingly patient big brother |
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Chronicle
My Heart Belongs 2 Chica.
It has ever since I first test-rode her 11.5 years ago- February 19, 2001. I can remember her former owner pulling up with her in the trailer, unloading her, and handing her to me to walk in. "Make her keep up with you while walking, otherwise she's going to lag behind." I abruptly pulled her up even with me, and we WALKED. To the cross ties. Did this horse cross tie, you might wonder? "Don't they all?" my little 13 year old self would have responded. Saddle her up, walk her to the arena. My then-trainer popped on her and rode off. Uneventful. No bucking. No rearing. "I had a barrel racer at my barn jump on her this morning to see how she would ride," I heard her owner say. "She hasn't been ridden in a year." Meanwhile, my trainer was trying to get her to canter. Trot, trot, trot. The little pony was NOT cantering.
Finally, it was my turn. I remember thinking once I was on how weird it felt to be sitting on this horse, this horse that could soon be MINE. She felt different, despite wearing the saddle I had owned the last year. Off we went. I had no fear at the time; I would ride anything and everything. That horse that just flipped over in the cross ties? Put me on it. This horse that hadn't been ridden in a year? No sweat. What was there to fear? I asked her to canter, and, after maybe 3 trot steps, we were doing it. I can't explain how grateful I was to Chica for cantering immediately with me, when she wouldn't hardly do it at all with the more experienced trainer.
She was mine. I cried. I went and turned her out with an Arabian gelding, and back to school I had to go, where I smugly told my "nemesis" that I now owned a horse. I also could concentrate on a grand total of nothing for the rest of the day.
Come that evening, I was back out at the barn to show off my new pony. We rode in the arena, and then went out in the pasture with two friends. The three of us decided to race- and Chica almost bucked me off. I was a bit unsettled- no horse had really bucked with me at the time. It brought something new to the table, in a dangerous way.
Fast forward a week, and I was riding my brand new horse in a parade. A stupid decision, looking back on it, but she was wonderful. I had a blast.
Fast forward 6 months. I had moved Chica out to a place that was pretty far away from my house, along with all of my horse friends, due to everyone getting kicked out of our previous barn. We trail rode all the time, chased cows, raced down the miles-long driveway. Visits started getting less frequent due to the distance, and it started showing in my little pony's attitude.
Fast forward another 6 months, and I was terrified of my horse. If I was leading her, she'd suddenly "freak out", jerk away from me, and tear off. If I was trying to get on her from the fence, she'd take off bucking and throw me. Same thing if I was already on and asked for the canter. I had a nightmare that she attacked me in her pasture and repeatedly threw me into the side of her shelter. Coincidently, she had suddenly turned and run me down that day. My dad was frustrated, because he didn't want to pay to "board a big dog". I was frustrated, because I loved my horse, but I couldn't do anything more than groom her without having a panic attack.
2002: I was a sophomore, and I was starting to get more into boys that going out to see my witch of a horse. I probably would have gotten out of horses all together, except the thought of sending my horse to live with strangers made me feel horrible. Fortunately, I met up with a lady who thought I should meet her trainer, a wonderful lady named Connie. She even trailered Chica out for my first (and many subsequent) lesson. Looking back, that lesson was hilarious. Connie had us ride in the roundpen. We walked and trotted, and things were going well. I had expected that she knew about all of our problems, and she just wanted to see us interact together. Then, she asked me to canter. And I fell apart. She gaped at me while I sat there, sobbing. I don't know what she saw in a little girl whose confidence was completely shattered or her hellion of a horse who was sloppy and had a bad attitude, but for some reason, she took us on.
2003-2006: We slowly became hunter under saddle superstars. Who knew either of us would ever be riding English? Due to Chica's coloration, we were easily recognizable at shows. We even had a little fan club. People would come up to us at shows and talk like we were great friends, which I enjoyed, although I thought it was a little weird. I even had some girls recognize me at work as "the girl who shows Chica". Chica was always on her best behavior at shows, and it seemed I was always on my worst. I know I was not pleasant to be around. Even if I won, I could still find something to nit-pick apart.
2007: We won Grand Champion in the hunter under saddle class. Finally. After handfuls of Reserve Champion ribbons, I finally had that trophy. We were also Reserve High Point that year.
2008: Chica came down with a persistant lameness in her left front foot. X-rays were not definitive, and we decided to put her on Corta-flx. Lameness went away after a couple of weeks.
2009- March 2011: Lameness persisted off and on, worsening in 2011. During good months, we'd attend occasional shows, trail ride, jump small jumps, "run" barrel patterns. During bad months, I'd develop stomach ulcers from worry.
April 2011- December 2011: Lameness really bad, first joint injections required. "Navicular" brought up, options discussed. Chica better until October 2011. Chica unable to move December 2011, more injections required. Navicular confirmed.
April 23, 2012- June 2012: More injections needed. Chica only so-so afterwards. Starts getting worse first weeks of June.
Which brings me to today, June 21, 2012. I finally called Chica's vet for the past 11 years to get her opinion, as I trust her more than any other vet. There aren't many options other than nerving, a $1000 procedure. There is a possibility of starting her on Pentosan, a cheaper option, but without more research, I don't know if it will do any good.
Let's just say, it was a bad day to wear make-up.
I hate seeing my horse like this. She used to be so vivacious, such a you-know-what at times. Now she looks depressed all the time. I feel like she has aged so much in the last year. It breaks my heart to pieces. I expected her to be around into her 20s- we'd still be riding, she could be my "have fun"/trail horse... we could do extreme trail ride competitions... well, maybe not, but I think together we would be great at that kind of stuff. It's scary to me to realize that, once I lose her, with her goes my security, my hard work, everything we've accomplished together. It will be like it never happened. I'll have to develop new bonds with new horses and work years to accomplish what she and I have done together. How many horses will I be able to walk up to in the pasture and just jump on and lay down, while looking at the stars? How many horses will stand there and "watch over me" while I sit at their feet and cry about all of my problems, rather than eating their hay? How many horses will come when called, but only if I put a lot of venom into their name (aka, "CHICA. COME. HERE. NOW. OR ELSE." "Oh, ok mom! Why didn't you say so?").
This is all stressing me out so much. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish someone else would make the decisions. I wish there was a magical cure for her. I wish the insurance would cover something like this for once in their lousy lives. And I know, everybody says similar things when watching one of their loved ones waste away. I just never thought I'd be the person with the navicular horse, trying to decide which treatment would be the best. Having to make the best decision, while trying to keep to a budget. Letting money be a factor in what they decide, even though it makes them feel like a sorry jerk for doing so.
I haven't been able to sleep the last two weeks. I can hardly stand to look at Chica, I feel so guilty. I pray and pray for guidance, strength, comfort. What am I going to do, when Chica goes, and my heart goes with her?
It has ever since I first test-rode her 11.5 years ago- February 19, 2001. I can remember her former owner pulling up with her in the trailer, unloading her, and handing her to me to walk in. "Make her keep up with you while walking, otherwise she's going to lag behind." I abruptly pulled her up even with me, and we WALKED. To the cross ties. Did this horse cross tie, you might wonder? "Don't they all?" my little 13 year old self would have responded. Saddle her up, walk her to the arena. My then-trainer popped on her and rode off. Uneventful. No bucking. No rearing. "I had a barrel racer at my barn jump on her this morning to see how she would ride," I heard her owner say. "She hasn't been ridden in a year." Meanwhile, my trainer was trying to get her to canter. Trot, trot, trot. The little pony was NOT cantering.
Finally, it was my turn. I remember thinking once I was on how weird it felt to be sitting on this horse, this horse that could soon be MINE. She felt different, despite wearing the saddle I had owned the last year. Off we went. I had no fear at the time; I would ride anything and everything. That horse that just flipped over in the cross ties? Put me on it. This horse that hadn't been ridden in a year? No sweat. What was there to fear? I asked her to canter, and, after maybe 3 trot steps, we were doing it. I can't explain how grateful I was to Chica for cantering immediately with me, when she wouldn't hardly do it at all with the more experienced trainer.
She was mine. I cried. I went and turned her out with an Arabian gelding, and back to school I had to go, where I smugly told my "nemesis" that I now owned a horse. I also could concentrate on a grand total of nothing for the rest of the day.
Come that evening, I was back out at the barn to show off my new pony. We rode in the arena, and then went out in the pasture with two friends. The three of us decided to race- and Chica almost bucked me off. I was a bit unsettled- no horse had really bucked with me at the time. It brought something new to the table, in a dangerous way.
Fast forward a week, and I was riding my brand new horse in a parade. A stupid decision, looking back on it, but she was wonderful. I had a blast.
Fast forward 6 months. I had moved Chica out to a place that was pretty far away from my house, along with all of my horse friends, due to everyone getting kicked out of our previous barn. We trail rode all the time, chased cows, raced down the miles-long driveway. Visits started getting less frequent due to the distance, and it started showing in my little pony's attitude.
Fast forward another 6 months, and I was terrified of my horse. If I was leading her, she'd suddenly "freak out", jerk away from me, and tear off. If I was trying to get on her from the fence, she'd take off bucking and throw me. Same thing if I was already on and asked for the canter. I had a nightmare that she attacked me in her pasture and repeatedly threw me into the side of her shelter. Coincidently, she had suddenly turned and run me down that day. My dad was frustrated, because he didn't want to pay to "board a big dog". I was frustrated, because I loved my horse, but I couldn't do anything more than groom her without having a panic attack.
2002: I was a sophomore, and I was starting to get more into boys that going out to see my witch of a horse. I probably would have gotten out of horses all together, except the thought of sending my horse to live with strangers made me feel horrible. Fortunately, I met up with a lady who thought I should meet her trainer, a wonderful lady named Connie. She even trailered Chica out for my first (and many subsequent) lesson. Looking back, that lesson was hilarious. Connie had us ride in the roundpen. We walked and trotted, and things were going well. I had expected that she knew about all of our problems, and she just wanted to see us interact together. Then, she asked me to canter. And I fell apart. She gaped at me while I sat there, sobbing. I don't know what she saw in a little girl whose confidence was completely shattered or her hellion of a horse who was sloppy and had a bad attitude, but for some reason, she took us on.
2003-2006: We slowly became hunter under saddle superstars. Who knew either of us would ever be riding English? Due to Chica's coloration, we were easily recognizable at shows. We even had a little fan club. People would come up to us at shows and talk like we were great friends, which I enjoyed, although I thought it was a little weird. I even had some girls recognize me at work as "the girl who shows Chica". Chica was always on her best behavior at shows, and it seemed I was always on my worst. I know I was not pleasant to be around. Even if I won, I could still find something to nit-pick apart.
2007: We won Grand Champion in the hunter under saddle class. Finally. After handfuls of Reserve Champion ribbons, I finally had that trophy. We were also Reserve High Point that year.
2008: Chica came down with a persistant lameness in her left front foot. X-rays were not definitive, and we decided to put her on Corta-flx. Lameness went away after a couple of weeks.
2009- March 2011: Lameness persisted off and on, worsening in 2011. During good months, we'd attend occasional shows, trail ride, jump small jumps, "run" barrel patterns. During bad months, I'd develop stomach ulcers from worry.
April 2011- December 2011: Lameness really bad, first joint injections required. "Navicular" brought up, options discussed. Chica better until October 2011. Chica unable to move December 2011, more injections required. Navicular confirmed.
April 23, 2012- June 2012: More injections needed. Chica only so-so afterwards. Starts getting worse first weeks of June.
Which brings me to today, June 21, 2012. I finally called Chica's vet for the past 11 years to get her opinion, as I trust her more than any other vet. There aren't many options other than nerving, a $1000 procedure. There is a possibility of starting her on Pentosan, a cheaper option, but without more research, I don't know if it will do any good.
Let's just say, it was a bad day to wear make-up.
I hate seeing my horse like this. She used to be so vivacious, such a you-know-what at times. Now she looks depressed all the time. I feel like she has aged so much in the last year. It breaks my heart to pieces. I expected her to be around into her 20s- we'd still be riding, she could be my "have fun"/trail horse... we could do extreme trail ride competitions... well, maybe not, but I think together we would be great at that kind of stuff. It's scary to me to realize that, once I lose her, with her goes my security, my hard work, everything we've accomplished together. It will be like it never happened. I'll have to develop new bonds with new horses and work years to accomplish what she and I have done together. How many horses will I be able to walk up to in the pasture and just jump on and lay down, while looking at the stars? How many horses will stand there and "watch over me" while I sit at their feet and cry about all of my problems, rather than eating their hay? How many horses will come when called, but only if I put a lot of venom into their name (aka, "CHICA. COME. HERE. NOW. OR ELSE." "Oh, ok mom! Why didn't you say so?").
This is all stressing me out so much. I wish I didn't have to deal with this. I wish someone else would make the decisions. I wish there was a magical cure for her. I wish the insurance would cover something like this for once in their lousy lives. And I know, everybody says similar things when watching one of their loved ones waste away. I just never thought I'd be the person with the navicular horse, trying to decide which treatment would be the best. Having to make the best decision, while trying to keep to a budget. Letting money be a factor in what they decide, even though it makes them feel like a sorry jerk for doing so.
I haven't been able to sleep the last two weeks. I can hardly stand to look at Chica, I feel so guilty. I pray and pray for guidance, strength, comfort. What am I going to do, when Chica goes, and my heart goes with her?
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Clickety click click
Yesterday was possibly my best ride on my flashy red pony yet. I was not expecting it to be, as she hadn't been ridden in almost two weeks- in fact, I was kind of dreading the inevitable fight that would ensue. "Just get on and feel her out," I told myself. "If things start going south, you can always go back into the round pen."
Being one to fear for my life on occasion, I started out our session by longing her, to take any edge off. It was when I asked her for the canter that I discovered something: gone are the trot trot trot into the canter days. I simply said "CANTER" and off she went. Immediately. I could have stopped right there I was so happy. You see, yesterday I decided that we really needed to longe on a line more, rather than in the round pen, so that I can go to shows and a) not worry about my horse killing those around me, or b) look like an idiot chasing my horse around the arena, trying to get her to lope. I asked her for the lope with trepidation, knowing that the last time we cantered on the line was a glorious failure (aka she dragged me around and simply would NOT canter without me popping and popping the whip). So when she immediately cantered off, on both sides, I felt myself immediately relax. This horse finally understood something we had been working on for months. Was it in part due to our last ride, where we trotted, cantered, trotted, cantered, until she started picking it up at the verbal cue? Possibly. All I know is that my voice was about 10 octaves higher than normal every time I told her, "Good girl!"
After longing, I bridled her and started tightening the girth. Sienna has unfortunately become cinchy in the last few months. I'm not sure if it's something my weak arms do when tightening the girth, or if it's just her not really having ever been ridden before I got her, but something about it sets her off. A lesson horse that I used to ride wayyyy back in the day was also cinchy, and I was told to just ignore him whenever he snapped at me. It never caused him to improve, so I'm thinking that ignorance is probably not the best plan of action. Whenever Sienna pinned her ears and snaked her head back at me, I would pick up my right rein and ask her to bend her head away from me. I figured redirecting, rather than smacking her and making her even more anxious, would be a better course for her. Eventually she stopped turning her head towards me and only put her ears back a little, which was a step in the right direction, so I left it at that and got on.
And we had the most relaxed, pleasant ride ever. She walked calmly and lengthened her neck down without me having to ask her. Upon me lifting my hands, she happily tucked her nose, rather than throwing her head up and fighting me. At the trot, she meandered around, plodding along, rather than racing around in a hot and bothered fashion. We did lots of circles and maintained our speed without me having to check her. She did get distracted a few times by the other horses, but every time I reminded her I was there, she graciously said "oh yeah!" instead of "oh my gosh won't you just be DONE already??". Since she was listening and relaxed, I decided not to lope and we ended on a positive note.
Some take away notes for me were: my horse really does respond to how relaxed I am. Every time I'd feel the perfectionist in me start popping up during our ride, I'd immediately squelch her, and both Sienna and I had a much more pleasant experience because of it. Secondly, the pasture is SO much nicer to ride in after it has been mowed. I could concentrate on my horse, rather than worrying that we were about to step on some goat weed.
While Sienna and I were riding, I turned Chica out into the yard so that she could feel special as well. I noticed at one point during our ride that she was dangerously close to the lake in my backyard- I could see her falling through the deceptive plants that hide where the lake actually starts, and me having to jump in and carry her out. So I called her, and she came trotting back up to the pasture gate, probably like "I thought you'd never give me dinner!" Mind you, she is pretty lame right now, so I appreciated the effort. Once she realized that I wasn't going to feed her yet, she wondered off again, and my roommate's horse panicked and called to her. I heard her scream back, and this time, she came BOLTING back to the pasture fence. "I'M HERE WHAT DID I MISS???"
Oh, horses.
Being one to fear for my life on occasion, I started out our session by longing her, to take any edge off. It was when I asked her for the canter that I discovered something: gone are the trot trot trot into the canter days. I simply said "CANTER" and off she went. Immediately. I could have stopped right there I was so happy. You see, yesterday I decided that we really needed to longe on a line more, rather than in the round pen, so that I can go to shows and a) not worry about my horse killing those around me, or b) look like an idiot chasing my horse around the arena, trying to get her to lope. I asked her for the lope with trepidation, knowing that the last time we cantered on the line was a glorious failure (aka she dragged me around and simply would NOT canter without me popping and popping the whip). So when she immediately cantered off, on both sides, I felt myself immediately relax. This horse finally understood something we had been working on for months. Was it in part due to our last ride, where we trotted, cantered, trotted, cantered, until she started picking it up at the verbal cue? Possibly. All I know is that my voice was about 10 octaves higher than normal every time I told her, "Good girl!"
After longing, I bridled her and started tightening the girth. Sienna has unfortunately become cinchy in the last few months. I'm not sure if it's something my weak arms do when tightening the girth, or if it's just her not really having ever been ridden before I got her, but something about it sets her off. A lesson horse that I used to ride wayyyy back in the day was also cinchy, and I was told to just ignore him whenever he snapped at me. It never caused him to improve, so I'm thinking that ignorance is probably not the best plan of action. Whenever Sienna pinned her ears and snaked her head back at me, I would pick up my right rein and ask her to bend her head away from me. I figured redirecting, rather than smacking her and making her even more anxious, would be a better course for her. Eventually she stopped turning her head towards me and only put her ears back a little, which was a step in the right direction, so I left it at that and got on.
And we had the most relaxed, pleasant ride ever. She walked calmly and lengthened her neck down without me having to ask her. Upon me lifting my hands, she happily tucked her nose, rather than throwing her head up and fighting me. At the trot, she meandered around, plodding along, rather than racing around in a hot and bothered fashion. We did lots of circles and maintained our speed without me having to check her. She did get distracted a few times by the other horses, but every time I reminded her I was there, she graciously said "oh yeah!" instead of "oh my gosh won't you just be DONE already??". Since she was listening and relaxed, I decided not to lope and we ended on a positive note.
Some take away notes for me were: my horse really does respond to how relaxed I am. Every time I'd feel the perfectionist in me start popping up during our ride, I'd immediately squelch her, and both Sienna and I had a much more pleasant experience because of it. Secondly, the pasture is SO much nicer to ride in after it has been mowed. I could concentrate on my horse, rather than worrying that we were about to step on some goat weed.
While Sienna and I were riding, I turned Chica out into the yard so that she could feel special as well. I noticed at one point during our ride that she was dangerously close to the lake in my backyard- I could see her falling through the deceptive plants that hide where the lake actually starts, and me having to jump in and carry her out. So I called her, and she came trotting back up to the pasture gate, probably like "I thought you'd never give me dinner!" Mind you, she is pretty lame right now, so I appreciated the effort. Once she realized that I wasn't going to feed her yet, she wondered off again, and my roommate's horse panicked and called to her. I heard her scream back, and this time, she came BOLTING back to the pasture fence. "I'M HERE WHAT DID I MISS???"
Oh, horses.
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