BJ He's the old man. Ironically, the first time I rode him the fell off and he ended up being one of my favorite ponies ever. He's not exactly push button, but he was an excellent pony hunter back in the day and is now treated like royalty, but not spoiled. I had the pleasure of being the last one to consistantly show him at the ripe old age of 26. Although, two years ago my trainer's daughter did show him once just for the experience of saying 'I showed BJ!'. I don't ride him anymore, but I wish I did. Now he's still being ridden, so he's still in shape (fugly IS right - a horse can be old and healthy! It's like magic!). On the occasions that he gets loose he gallops around the barn with his tail up in the air and the young'ns who go out with him following him around. This pony is honestly amazing, 28 years old and getting jumped once or twice a week. Only two foot, but he's being jumped nonetheless. He's one of those rare ones you can just chuck the reins up his neck and you know you'll both look good. He taught me a lot, because he is by no means push button, and by the end of his career he has accomplished so much that he deserves that extra carrot at the end of the day.
CP
The second old man. He's a tad thin, but he's the 25 year old TB, which is pretty much defined as hard to keep weight on. But he's still super athletic, he jumps 2'6" with me and a few others (obviously only once, maybe twice, a week). I honestly can't remember what the hell CP stands for, but I know it's something 'Prince'. He deserves the title, except for a few major quirks. For one, you have to close the barn door before taking him out of his stall unless you plan on falling and watching do his TB run to get outside. He loves to be loose, if he sees other others loose (accidentally, of course!), even while he is in the feild, he will whinny and whinny constantly. Another one of his problems is that he doesn't do lead changes. He did to me, once, but it was during a straightaway after a jump and he did it without me asking. But I always know to half halt and trot that one step for the lead. He also has a habit of ignoring me and choosing to take off long, but this problem has gotten much better. Eh, he's ancient and can probably make better decisions than me anyway. Usually after he does that I get the point and fix it the next time around, anyway. I've only ridden him this past year and now this year, so we still haven't really clicked like some of the others, but he's buddy to me.
LuckyAhh, Lucky. Where to begin. For one, she is the first 'horse' I ever rode. I'd like to point out that she is not the best horse for a newbie, but I had already ridden for about four years by then, so I figured I could handle her. After trotting her funky baby-step trot a couple times around, my trainer turns around to me and says 'I think she likes you'. WTF. She tried to bite me tacking up (as always), won't stand still, and now has this weirdass trot and she likes me? Unfortunately for me, she has an even more awkward canter and likes to rush jumps. It's what every fifth grader wants - a wacko horse to ride. Turns out, she likes me because I have soft hands and am very light while posting because she has the back of Quasimodo. Okay, not really, but she's sensitive. Anyway, after so far it's been six years of riding Lucky, now 25 years old. She's taught me an absolute ton. For example, to relax when they spook. Just tell them to stop. It's that simple. Also about getting them to slow down when they love to take off after the jump. And finally, that even when the girth is tightened and an angry face is made, it doesn't mean that they don't love you, it means they hate the girth. She always makes a pitiful face after she tries to bite me or something, expecting me to forgive her.
And I always do.
Calvin
My dearest Calvin. A loving horse that in reality is completely usless. A long time ago, he was boarded at my barn, rode western. Then one day they just stopped coming. An absolutely horrible thing to do, but their foul decision made my life all the better. My trainer and her sisters switched him to English, and he was pretty good at it. There are pictures of him in the tack room going over 3'6" oxers, something that he dreams of today. My best friend's older sister leased him for the longest time, and I would accompany them to horse shows and always supported them. Then she went off to college, and another girl leased him, while I leased BJ. Then I outgrew BJ, the other girl moved, and it was finally my chance. My chance to get on the fat dun warmblood and waddle with him around the arena. The funniest thing about Calvin is when you finally get to that jump, after pressing and pressing, find that perfect distance, he chooses to through in that extra little step, just in case he can't heave his gigantic body over that tiny crossrail. I got one precious show summer out of him. Rode him three times before our first show, but I didn't care. I trusted that damn horse with my life. I continued to ride him after my lease was up, but less and less. He was stiff, sore, and just unconfortable at the young, compared to others, age of 23. I rode him one week in April, and he was stiff and was even tougher to push around the ring. The next week, I rode Timber for the first time, and got that fateful news: It is imposible to keep him sound. I was all ready for show season '08 on my trusty steed, and suddenly he had been demoted to walk/trot lessons. I went to his stall that night and cried. He's still there, on the right side, inbetween CP and Sunny, eating his hay. Enjoying himself, enjoying retired life. But he always gets a carrot and a hello from me. Occasionally I'll see a little kid with stubby legs struggling to get him past that one last corner at the trot, but he looks content (he thanks the person who invented bute). As long as he is a happy, I am happy. He is the second horse I have had the pleasure of taking through their last show season. That dammed Calvin, Calvin with the palomino heart as a star, Calvin who loves food. Calvin who has always been there, since day one at the barn and watching him show.
Timber
And last but not lease, the Timberkins. The devil in large pony form. And this for a good laugh. Yep, my first trip to the barn, ever. Period. Now look at us, eleven years later and me growing a good fifteen feet after that picture was taken (also aquiring a fashion sense better than my parents at the time), him currently just as fuzzy, learning how to have a person on your back and that you need to listen to that person. Our story picks up basically where Calvin's story ends. That time I rode Timber for the first time ever and it was a complete failure. Actually, I rode him dismally, rode CP, then rode Timber again and jumped 2'6" (for the first time since those singles got too much for Lucky), and was then told about Calvin. Thank God for CP, because after my epic fail on Timber my confidence as a rider was pretty much shattered. Yeah, Timber did that to me. Cute little Timber destroyed my will to show that year. Then CP was good, and I felt well enough to get back on the pony for another lesson. Happy lesson that time. Lesson that convinced me that this stupid pony actually has a brain somewhere in his giant head large enough to show with me. And the rest was history. He's still a devil on the crossties, but I've been working on that. And I figure I'm done growing, so even though I'm 5'9", he's got one hellova heart girth to fit my leg (with stirrups. He tries to through me when I take them out because I accidentally slip down a little bit occasionally and poke him with my heel on his tummy).
So that's the clan. Or might I say, the recently ridden clan. I will eventually get around to writing about the non-ridden bunch. Including Cloudy. I'll probably write about him on February 5, though. In honor of him. Enjoy.
Also, I plan on doing a 'real' post tomorrow. Not one centered around me, just to prove I'm not a vain bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment