“Hmm, I can imagine,” Sierra said. She watched River take up a bridle with a plain snaffle bit, and very patiently, he coaxed Corazón into allowing him to put it on. The black tossed his head several times, his ears back, but River talked to him soothingly, stroking his neck and praising him until he finally stood still. He fed him a few bits of carrots to encourage him to chew on and taste the bit. Then with slow motions, he unhooked Corazón from the crossties and led him into the indoor arena. Sierra followed with a lunge line.
River led Corazón around the perimeter of the arena in both directions, letting him toss his head a few more times, snort, and look around; an exercise River had been doing with the horse even before putting him in the bridle, so the arena was not unfamiliar to him. Then River brought him to one end of the arena where Sierra waited with the lunge line. He hooked the line to the ring of the bit and then had Sierra stand on the outside of the horse with her hand on the outside rein. River led him in a small circle a few times, and then started to back away from him as he released loops of lunge line. Sierra’s job was to keep Corazón walking on the circle and not allow him to follow River.
“Good,” River said after a few rounds and then had Sierra halt Corazón as he came up to him, praising him lavishly. Then they repeated the exercise in the other direction. “Not bad,” River exclaimed. “I bet he’s done this before.” They had spent less than ten minutes on this first lesson. River took him back to the crossties to remove the bridle, and then he led him out to the field to graze as a reward.
Sierra helped River the next few days, repeating the lunge lesson. Then River brought out the lunge whip. “I’m a little worried how he’s going to react,” River confessed as they were brushing Cory before the lesson.
“Yeah, me too.” They both suspected the horse did not have good memories of whips.
River slowly brought the whip into view, letting Corazón sniff and snort at it, until he stood quietly. Then they started the lunge lesson with River merely holding the whip in a downward position. Eventually, River was able to lift the tip of the whip to encourage Cory to stay out on the circle, and Sierra no longer needed to hold on the outside rein.
A few days of independent lunging with whip in hand, and River felt Cory was ready for more disciplined work. He tried on a saddle pad with a lunging surcingle and at first, just had Cory wear it while he led him out to graze. When he left it on for a lunge lesson, it never became an issue. Then River added side reins to help keep Cory balanced and in a good frame. By the end of two weeks, he was able to work Cory for short periods of trot as well as walk.
River no longer needed Sierra’s help with the lunge lessons, but she still hung around to watch, impressed with the horse’s progress. Corazón now accepted the bridle without tossing his head; in fact, he dropped his head and opened his mouth willingly for the bit. On the lunge line, he remained on a circle in both directions, undisturbed when River raised the tip of the lunge whip, and responding to voice commands for walk, trot, and halt. Strangely, she often had to fight back tears as she marveled at how the abused horse had learned to trust River, all signs of stress or defensive behavior replaced with a curious and willing attitude.
*****
13 Diva
Love means attention, which means looking after the things we love. We call it stable management. - George H. Morris
*****
“This doesn’t look good.” River stood at the opened grill of Diva’s stall. The mare had thrust her nose out and he stroked it gently as he surveyed piles of uneaten hay strewn around her legs and mixed in with the shavings.
It was Saturday, and Crystal’s new horse had been at Pegasus one week. Sierra tossed her armload of hay into the stall next door, and then joined River to peer in at Diva. “What’s the matter?” she asked, as she also reached up to stroke the gentle mare.
“She didn’t eat much last night. Look at all that leftover hay and she’s only eaten half her grain.”
“Do you think she has colic?” Sierra asked in a worried voice. With primitive digestive systems, horses have little ability to deal with intestinal maladies, and all horsemen fear colic which can disable and even kill a horse.
“It’s possible, but she doesn’t really act like it. She’s not looking or biting at her sides,” River answered, “and there’s manure in the stall.”
As if to answer the question for them, Diva pulled her nose in and took a mouthful of grain. Chewing noisily and with kernels of oats leaking from her mouth, she thrust her nose back out.
“Strange,” River said. They watched Diva eat her grain. She took mouthfuls but thrust her nose outside the grate where the kids could pet her while she chewed. They waited until she finished, and then returned to feeding the other horses, neighing loudly and stomping in their stalls, unhappy with the delay in their breakfast.
“Let’s not give her anymore feed this morning until I can talk to Manuel. I want to know how she’s been eating all week,” River advised, his tone worried.
“Right,” Sierra agreed. “I sure hope she’s okay.”
When Manuel arrived with a basket of food, River questioned him about Diva.
“No, che no eat. Jus’ a leetle; che no feenees anyteeng. I tell Mees Tess. Che call vet and ‘ee come but ‘ee no find anyteeng. I do not know.” Manuel scratched the back of his head, his brow creased in a worried frown.
“She ate her grain while we were watching,” Sierra said.
“Maybe she’s lonesome, or homesick,” River wondered out loud.
“Quien sabe?” Manuel shrugged.
That evening, alone in the barn after all the horses had been brought in for the night and fed and Sierra and Manuel had left, River stopped to peer into Diva’s stall. She stood with her nose to the grate, looking out; her hay untouched and only part of her grain eaten. He stepped inside her stall and began to stroke her neck and shoulders while he studied her for signs of colic. While he stood with her, she thrust her nose into her manger and began to eat her grain. River stayed with her until she finished the grain and then moved to her pile of hay.
“Good girl,” he praised, “eat all your food.” He left the stall, but turned around when he heard Diva whicker after him. She had left her hay and stood at the grate, following him with her eyes.
Strange. He stepped back inside her stall. She rumbled a low sound and nuzzled at him with her head. “Que pasa, linda? Triste? Missing your old home?” he murmured. He began to stroke her again, pleased when she returned to her hay. Several times he tried to leave her stall, only to return when he heard her moving to the grate and ignoring her food.
This is going to take a while. Defying Tess’s rule about no dogs in the stable while horses were inside, he called to Storm, and he and his dog kept Diva company while she ate.
It was after nine o’clock when River felt satisfied that the mare had eaten all but a few wisps of hay. As he and Storm left the stable, looking forward to their own suppers, Diva whinnied loud and longingly, watching him depart through the bars of her stall.
*****
When Sierra arrived the next morning for work and flicked on the lights inside the barn, she was startled by Storm who came up to greet her, wagging her tail enthusiastically.
“Storm, how did you get in here?” she asked as she bent down to pet the furry head. “Where’s River?”
In answer to her question, as she stepped around the first aisle of stalls with Storm at her side, she saw River getting up from a pile of horse blankets where it looked like he had been lying in front of Diva’s stall.
“River, what...?”
“You woke me up,” he said, blinking sheepishly, and rubbing at his face.
“What are you doing here?”
River explained what had happened last night; that somehow Diva seemed comforted to have a human nearby, and only then would she eat. After he left her, he could not forget the sight of her staring out of her stall and neighing after him, sounding so mournful. So aft
er he and Storm had eaten at home, he decided to come back to check on her and ended up staying all night.
“Wow, and you were actually able to sleep?” Sierra asked, touched by how much River had been willing to do for the sake of a horse.
“Yeah. I’m going to try to contact her previous owners and see if they might have some idea about what’s bothering her.”
“Good idea. River…you are…” Sierra wanted to tell him how kind it was for him to stay, but the right words just didn’t come to mind. Instead, she gave him a quick hug. From the look on his face when she stepped away, she thought he understood what she wanted to tell him.
“Come on, let’s get these horses fed,” he said, smiling. The sounds of horses whinnying, snorting, and stomping in their stalls echoed throughout the stable and diverted away any potential awkwardness that could have occurred in the moment.
After the horses had all been turned out, River went to the office to call Diva’s previous owner.
“It’s quite a story,” River said when he joined Sierra mucking stalls. “I talked to Amy, the stable owner’s daughter. Diva was her horse. She told me Diva’s dam had some kind of an abscess or something and couldn’t nurse her, so Amy took charge of the filly and bottle-fed her. They became really attached to each other. Amy started to cry when I told her about Diva’s behavior and she thinks Diva is homesick and missing her.
“She said Crystal’s father made a very generous offer for Diva, more money than her parents felt like they could turn down. Diva wasn’t even for sale. Amy just happened to be jumping Diva in the arena when Tess, Crystal, and her father came to look at other horses they had for sale. When Tess saw Diva she was immediately impressed and then Crystal wasn’t interested in looking any further.”
“How horrible,” Sierra empathized. Imagine if I were forced to sell Fiel!
“Yeah, I feel really bad for her. I promised her I’ll stay with Diva as long as necessary and I’ll stay in touch with her to let her know how she’s doing.”
“You’re going to stay all night again?”
“I think I have to, at least for awhile…as long as it takes.”
“Crystal is the one who should stay all night with Diva,” Sierra stated emphatically, tossing a pitchfork-full of wet shavings into the cart.
River burst out laughing and Sierra joined in as an image of Crystal in silk pajamas fussing around in a pile of horse blankets with a look of disgust on her face, came to mind.
*****
The following week, River slept every night outside of Diva’s stall. For whatever reason, as long as she could see or smell his presence, she ate heartily, and finished all her grain and hay.
“She’s only been back on her feed for a week,” River grumbled. It was the first Saturday of March, and the day of the cross country clinic. He and Sierra were tacking up Diva and Silver in the crossties. Katrina was preparing her own mare, Calliope, in the third crosstie bay. Moose and Minstrel had already been tacked up and waited in their stalls. “She lost some weight and conditioning and they should not put her through this clinic.”
Sierra half-listened, knowing he did not expect a reply. He had been grumbling all morning, in a foul mood. She was used to his ill humor, and knew him well enough now to know that it was usually triggered by his worry over a horse. She shared his concern and hoped with all her heart that no disaster would befall Diva or for that matter, any of the horses today.
The clinic would take place in the back fields of Pegasus where permanent jumps had been constructed; enough jumps to practice over full cross country courses from beginner novice to intermediate level. The jumps were typical of those found in eventing courses including logs, railroad ties, stone wall, chicken coop, a bank, ditch, and even a water jump. During the winter, Manuel and River reinforced or rebuilt jumps that needed repair, and replaced a few so there would always be some new obstacles. This year, they had built a preliminary level ramp and a flower box jump that had been filled with colorful plastic flowers.
It had rained all night and continued to drizzle. The footing would be muddy in places and visibility might be impaired. These were conditions that often occurred at events, so would provide excellent practice.
Loud voices mixed with laughter could be heard over the click of the heels of riding boots as a group entered the stable coming toward the crosstie bays. Crystal and Gloria came into view along with Justin, and Gloria’s boyfriend, Greg. Luke was also with them.
“There she is,” Crystal announced, pointing out her new horse to the others, who responded with the appropriate compliments they knew she expected.
“Sierra, you have the wrong bridle,” Gloria stated as she came up to survey the preparations of her own horse. “I want the pelham bit with a running martingale.” Sierra was buckling on Silver’s usual snaffle bridle. Frowning, she slipped it off, and put his halter back on so she could exchange bridles.
“If you would quit yanking on his mouth every time you land from a jump, you wouldn’t need that bit,” River said, unable to control his irritation.
Gloria rounded on him. “Stay out of what isn’t your business,” she snapped back angrily. “Tess wants me to use the pelham. I am so tired of you thinking you know more than Tess.”
River turned from tightening Diva’s girth to glare back at her. He was about to retort when Sierra made a noise drawing his attention. She frowned at him, silently asking him not to cause trouble. River held his tongue and turned back to the saddle girth. Sierra took a deep breath of relief and slipped away to the tack room to change bridles.
“Sierra,” Luke trailed after her into the tack room.
“Hi, Luke,” she responded blandly. She wondered if he had come today as the friend of Justin and Greg, or if it was to see her.
“Are you riding today?”
“Yes,” she answered, not offering him any encouragement. She hung up the snaffle bridle, took down the pelham, and a running martingale.
“Sierra, I…”
“Luke, I can’t talk right now; I’m busy,” she cut him off curtly. She had too much to do and concentrate on right now to make the effort to be polite when she was just feeling annoyed. She hurried back to the crossties, leaving Luke behind.
River had finished bridling Diva and handed off the reins to Crystal. Then he helped Sierra put on and adjust the new bridle and martingale on Silver. Gloria stood by with folded arms and tight-pressed lips, impatient and annoyed that Crystal and the boys had left, not waiting for her.
We’re all in great moods today, Sierra noted to herself sardonically as she handed off Silver’s reins. Gloria led him forcefully away to catch up with the others, jerking on Silver’s mouth. He obediently followed but held his ears back.
Taking in deep breaths and rolling her shoulders to loosen up her own irritability, Sierra resolved to have a more positive attitude now that she could give all her attention to her own mount. She knew how much her emotional state would transmit to Minstrel.
“Those are two very tolerant and forgiving horses,” River said, shaking his head as he watched the tail end of Silver and ahead of him, Diva. Sierra looked at him and their eyes met; and they smiled at each other, knowing they had been thinking similar thoughts.
At last all horses and riders were mounted and warming up around the perimeter of the field. Minstrel had picked up the atmosphere of excitement and his muscles bunched and tensed beneath her. His attention focused on the other horses, he fought against Sierra; shaking his head against her hold, and his gaits choppy with his neck stiff. Is this what he’ll be like at a show? Sierra realized how fortunate she had been with Fala and Fiel, the only horses she had competed with; both who listened to her in spite of the distractions.
“Push him forward in trot.” River came up alongside her on Moose. “Make him keep pace with us.” As usual, River appeared to be melded onto his horse’s back, the two of them moving as one; but Sierra knew he was in total control. “Every time you half-halt with the
reins, push him with your legs…that’s right.” He rode alongside her, coaching every stride in a quiet voice. “Stay in two-point but use your center muscles to keep him from pulling you forward…good. Keep your weight in your heels.”
Minstrel flicked his ears and dropped his head into the bit for the first time, tuning into his rider. With River’s coaching, Sierra regained control.
“We’re going to make a big circle around the next jump; once at trot, and then canter. But bring him right back to trot after one round. Just follow Moose; we’re going to keep circling and changing gaits and directions so that he can’t anticipate what you want. We’re distracting him with work so that he has to pay attention to you.”
Sierra followed River, pleased with the results of his strategy. She found that by pushing Minstrel forward rather than fighting to hold him back, it was easier to regain control. She remembered how River had once told her that a horse’s reaction to stress is flight, and the best way to get horses to relax is to push them into exercises that work their muscles.
“Watch out for the mud just ahead,” River called over his shoulder. “See if you can leg-yield him to the right and around the mud.”
Sierra pushed her weight deeper into her right stirrup and pressed her left leg against Minstrel’s side. He obediently moved laterally, and they trotted on safely past the slick spot.
“Good,” River called out from where he had halted a few paces ahead. “You’ve got his attention. Let’s gallop in a wide perimeter. If he goes too fast, remember to push your weight down and back, but keep your legs on him every time you use the reins.”
Sierra nodded and watched Moose turn and jump into a gallop, as usual without an obvious signal from River. She allowed Minstrel to transition up and followed Moose two lengths behind as she concentrated on using her aids of weight and legs every time she used the reins. Finally, she felt like she was a partner with her mount.
The Boy Who Loves Horses (Pegasus Equestrian Center Series) Page 13