Turtle, Turtle

I wasn't sure at this point if I was just going to get him going better under saddle and resell him, or if I wanted to keep him for myself. Either way, there were a lot of things about being a show horse he needed to learn.

I started pulling his mane, which he didn't care for.

I started getting him accustomed to the hose, using the sponge on him after rides with the hose in hand as well, although not turned on, and gradually adding the other aspects. Within a few times I was able to use the hose alone.

I taught him about fly spray.

Clippers were a challenge, and another set of broken crossties. I hadn't even turned them on before the freak out and flee took place. Several patient sessions helped him accept them. He was good for his legs, but nothing by his head. I figured we would work towards this gradually.


We rode at the friendly, distant neighbor's yard three or four days a week, if the weather and ground allowed me. I remembered that riding with "your feet on the dashboard" is a good idea, if you are expecting unpredictability.




My friend of "Can he reach the grass?" fame called me up and invited me to take him to the park on the seven mile trail with her and one of her young horses. I agreed, although I had visions of him dumping me and wandering off to who knows where. Aren't horses supposed to head home when they dislodge you? Cappy didn't believe in that rule. And this trail ran parallel with a paved hike/bike trail, meaning not only lots of never before seen stimuli, but also more victims if he decided to run amok.

I tacked him up the morning of our trail ride and lunged him for about fifteen minutes. I hated to wear him out too much before we started a nearly seven mile ride, but also didn't want him to be so full of it that it was a miserable or dangerous experience for me.

I led him down the hill to where my friend would be able to meet us with her trailer. Cappy loaded well and we drove the ten minutes or so to the park. He was interested and keen when we arrived, watching the bikers and bladers go by, but did nothing stupid or silly. I was able to mount him quietly ~ something we had definitely been working on after the "toe incident"~ even though it was the first time I was using a mounting block. His head was up and he was moving faster than normal as we started out, but he remained mostly well contained.

We chatted as we walked along, the first stretch being mostly small hills. Cap looked about him, but moved well on the trail, scrambled up the hills adeptly, and did a pretty good job of staying calm... until a straight stretch that had the brush and woods to our right and my friend to the left.

I felt something grab my right leg. Cappy shot forward in a simultaneous huge bound.

Honestly, I was kind of glad he took off... I didn't want to be run away with, but we were obviously being attacked! I made contact immediately with his mouth and asked him to slow, and he came to a halt within five or so strides. About three strides in I realized that it was probably just a branch that had hit us. I couldn't really blame him for that spook ~ if I felt like I was being attacked, no wonder he got out of Dodge! He apparently realized it was only a branch as well, and not some tiger lurking in the dark underbrush, as he did not hold on to his excitement. He was relaxed again within a few more strides of walking.

The rest of the ride went perfectly. The spook actually gave me confidence, I think, that he was an intelligent horse and that I could handle what he might throw at me. We did a fair amount of trotting. I asked him to canter on at a particularly open stretch. It was a good area that would allow him to go for some while before there was another road crossing (and thus time for him to get tired if his brakes "failed").

He picked up a workmanlike hand gallop, and maintained his smooth ground eating pace with little guidance from me. This might be when I actually fell in love with my horse. So bold, galloping out in a strange place with my friend's horse far behind us, listening to my aids, and obviously enjoying himself. I could happily just trail ride this every day, it didn't matter if his butt was high or we never jumped cross country.

We came around a hedge line curve to find a horse in the path. He pulled up abruptly at my request, and I apologized to the other rider. Courtesies finished and a clear line of sight ahead, I asked him for the other lead. We had a good gallop that way as well, with no histrionics, or speed induced psychosis. Quite a difference from all of the horses I had known before. And he barely had thirty rides on him...

I was so proud of him on this maiden voyage. He saw people on bikes and rollerblades... his first jogging baby-stroller came upon him just a few strides in on the bridge I was asking him to cross. The poor guy had just gotten brave enough to step onto the strange concrete structure with high wooden sides, and this bizarre black thing comes whooshing towards him. He stared and flinched, but kept walking.

He crossed through the creek with little hesitation. He was happy to lead or ride along side, less happy to follow. We walked much of the last few miles, and my friend invited me to move Cappy to her house where she kept her four TB/Hanoverians. I agreed readily.

As we approached the last road crossing, I felt my first real burst of apprehension. It was a difficult spot as it crossed where two other roads intersected; people often drove over the already-generous 45mph speed limit, and the road curved in one direction and dipped over hill in the other. Oh, and the parallel hike/bike trail had an underpass that some horses could find distressing as people emerged seemingly at their feet...

Cappy had already shown a tendency to walk slower on the road crossings... his normally huge walk turned into a glacial shuffle on the tarmac. I was not looking forward to this endeavor. My friend looked from side to side, gauged she was safe, and started crossing. From my scarcely higher vantage point, I saw another car nearing the intersection, and I decided to wait. Her mare may make it across just fine, but Turtle Boy will get squished.

Cappy waited patiently as the car went by, then another. Luca stopped and fretted a bit on the other side. I saw our chance, and we toddled out into the roadway.

My friend remarked she was rather concerned when we didn't cross when she did, and was then particularly surprised that Cappy didn't get nervous and antsy with cars zooming by nearly under his nose while his new herd mate was across the roadway.

He was always a very thinking horse.

I do believe he had already decided that I was the most important member of his herd.