Early Days

K came with me to see Cappy one day before school ended. He was galloping back and forth, back and forth along the long stretch at the bottom of the sheep field. He wasn’t agitated, he was just running for the joy of it. His long stride carried him effortlessly over the uneven terrain. My heart swelled with anticipation and pride at the athletic horse that was now mine to work with and train. Would I be able to turn out the kind of horse I thought I could? Was he really as athletic as he seemed? If so, I could really chase some dreams with him.

The sheep pasture where he was staying was on the other side of my former neighbor Marilyn’s property. She or Carol would drop grain for him and check his water for me in the morning. There was so much grass we didn’t bother with hay. When I came over in the afternoon, sometimes the grain from breakfast was still sitting in the feeder. Did he come up to the top for water and just not look in the feeder, or did he not even come up for water?

The early days with Cappy were definitely not smooth. There were frustrated catch attempts spent following him back and forth in the field for 5 or ten minutes before he realized I wasn’t going to give up and he might as well get caught. His sweeping gallop was less than thrilling then as I tromped over the acres only to have him blast back to where I had been minutes earlier. One day as he flew past me for the seventh or eighth time, I threw the halter and lead rope at him in frustration.  

Actually, he was a lot easier to catch after that.

I would take him up to Marilyn’s barn to groom and tack up. He occasionally busted crossties, especially if anything new was being introduced. The saddle I owned seemed to fit him well enough; looking at it with the gained experience from my present self, it was decidedly less than ideal. I had a copper two piece snaffle that fit him. I had a girth that fit. I would lounge him briefly, maybe three or four circles of all gaits in both directions to check out his mood, and then I climbed aboard.  

He needed someone to hold him when you got on, or he would walk off. I didn’t have a mounting block, and sometimes didn’t have a holder, so this could be interesting as I tried to swing up and into the saddle before he walked too far or pulled me off the foot I needed to spring from.

The first few rides in that small arena showed him to be quite unhappy with me, the fact that he was being ridden, and the bit. His steering was not good, and he saw no point in our activities.  I started riding him instead out into my old neighborhood, and that helped a lot.

The neighborhood was a community of three private drives, the houses all had 5 or more acres, and I knew plenty of homeowners who liked having us ride through. The few that didn’t, I was careful to stay on the road in front of their properties. I made sure we were not leaving prints in the ground before I started out, so people that did like us riding on their property would keep liking us.

We would march along the grassy berm, he happy to be out in the world and me happy the horse was going forward and happy. I would ride him about a half mile to a house that had the perfect natural “arena”. It was a side lawn that was 150 or 200 yards square, bordered by the house on one side, a garden and more lawn along the back, and the other two sides had trees planted every ten or fifteen feet or so, set back forty feet from the roads. It was perfect place for him to school without panicking about losing his balance in a small space, yet structured enough to help him focus.

In my years with Cappy, I had three falls with him. The first two were in the first two weeks I owned him.