|
Thursday, May 14, 2009
We're in shape but can we prove it? Do we really want to?
Been thinking of entering a Competitive Trail Ride.
It’s a bit overwhelming for the uninitiated. One organization’s handbook is 60-plus pages long and talks about each rider having a “manager.”
Everyone has to stop at predetermined intervals and have their horse checked: overall condition, heart rate, respirations, etc.
So I’m thinking it’d be good to simulate this process. Off we go on a trail ride to see if we can pretend for a while.
I’m sure I would have given the pros a real good laugh!
We warmed up with a mile of walking, then trotted for several minutes. Then I stopped and dismounted.
I struggled to get the heart rate consistently. Tried the armpit. Tried under the jaw. It was a challenge either way but we (Shea and I) settled on the armpit. We got 60 beats per minute. I know this is awfully high and wonder about accuracy.
I was counting like we used to count as track athletes, for six seconds and then added a zero - probably not the most precise method!
So I modified, counted for 15 seconds and multiplied by 4.
One friend suggested I invest in a heart monitor. They’re cheap and easy, she said. For now, I refuse to cave to my ineptness!
I counted her respirations. The first time, I got about 80 breaths per minute. That’s crazy! Then I realized I was counting sniffs not breaths. (“Why did we stop here? These woods are new to me…” I imagine she asked and sniffed for answers.)
Yup, plenty of room for improvement.
I may reconsider my plans.
Plus, as my mom said, “Why would anyone want to make a trail ride competitive?”
|
Field Frenzy
It was laughable in hindsight.
Every day I pony my four girls up the road and across the way to a lovely big field. Then I bring them home every night.
This morning, I was going through the routine and my neighbor’s dog decided to herd us.
It was fine – the horses were cool and the dog didn’t get kicked. The owner finally got him on a leash but not before I dropped the line of my little Shetland.
“OK,” I was thinking, as I hooked up the electric fence, turned it on, and took the rope halters of the three big girls. Trixie will just hang out by the gate until I can grab her and bring her in.
But this was not Trixie’s plan. She took off.
Of course, the other girls were interested in this development. Brooke, my rescue mare (who, I’ve learned, has little issue with pain) decided Trixie MUST NOT GO ON ALONE. So she ran right through the fence like it was crepe paper.
Down came 150 feet of fencing, popping off the insulators and dropping to the ground.
Now the other girls were thinking, “Hey, let’s join this field trip!”
But before that could happen, I grabbed the hot fence with my hands (insulated by my sweatshirt sleeve) and pulled it tight. Shouting and waving, I figured I better secure the fence before I rounded up the fugitives.
I managed to get the fence up and tight enough to keep Shea and Phoenix inside it.
Then it was just a matter of rounding up the other two.
They are digging the greener grass, of course. They are both rescue horses and I was sure they were thinking, “It doesn’t get much better than this, does it!”
My lead lines were at the other end of the field and I had left my phone (to call for help) at home.
Spitting and cursing, I did manage to get all four on the right side of the fence. Heck of a way to start the day.
|
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Those lovely ticks!
Don't know about you, but ticks have been different this year. And not in a good way!
Usually, I take plenty off me and the dogs and the horses are affected less so.
This year, I have found many more on the horses than on me and the dogs.
I have been using spray and a feed-thru garlic blend as deterrents. But two of my four horses have suffered. It's this time of year, and then again in October that they get hit most seriously.
The ticks bite. Sometimes I pull them off and kill them. Sometimes, they've had their fill by the time I detect them.
Then the ticks leave a little oozing wound. The secretion seems to have a certain amount of toxicity because when I clean the bite areas, hair comes off, too.
So, my poor girls have quarter-size bare and reddish marks under their chins and between their front legs! All from those tiny buggers!
I would love to know any bug-off tricks which are working for NickerNews readers!
|
Friday, May 01, 2009
A Bad Dream
I dream about my horses and horses in general, don't you?
So last night in La-La Land, I brought my horse, Shea, to a clinic and put her in a round pen temporarily. I was called away for something. It got complicated and I had to stay away for longer...then I woke up.
I knew I needed to get back to Shea because she didn't have water or hay. But in order to get back to her, I had to get back to sleep. And that stress (plus, the fact that I had to get up in 15 minutes!) made it too darned hard to get there.
So I'm going through my REAL day (after feeding the REAL Shea and the rest of my herd), still worried that the dream Shea is abandoned and suffering.
Yes, I'm getting my head examined tomorrow.
|
|