Get off your high horse!

Note: I won't be able to post tomorrow, as I'll be on a retreat and away from any internet connections. I should be back in civilization by Friday, but I may be too tired and have too much to unpack to write then, either. So look for some new posts possibly Friday, but definitely Saturday.

Onto to the real post... I hate having posts that revolve solely around me, but this story was just too much for me NOT to share to the world.

Last week, my horse was high. (And to answer the question I've gotten every time I say that sentence... Yes, high as in drugs.) He's been put on this new medicine that is messing with his head, and halfway through our ride he started feel real good (drugs are known to do that). He completely galloped through a bending line and soared over a 2'3" oxer like it was four feet high. When I tried to halt him, he was backing up and tossing his head, and my trainer finally had enough. She made me calm him down, jump a final fence on him (which he took beautifully), and then quit for the night. She promised to talk to the barn owner about his meds and give him plenty of turnout.

Fast-forward to today, the first time I've been back to the barn to ride since then. They changed my horse (Blaze)'s dosage and let him run around in the paddocks, and supposedly he was back to normal. Of course, the moment I got him in the cross-ties I could tell he wasn't. He was antsy as I tacked him up, but that's sometimes just how he is. When I got into the arena and tried to mount, he wouldn't stand still. That's when I could tell he was really keyed up. He has much better manners than to move when someone's mounting. He immediately trotted off before I could get my other foot in the stirrup, but I settled myself and made him halt. He started backing up again and snorting like last week, but I just closed my leg and kept him moving, holding the reins so he couldn't trot or canter through the bit.

And then a large dump truck came rumbling onto the property. Of all days! Blaze is the closest thing to bombproof horse that I've ever seen. He doesn't spook. Ever. But he was not himself tonight and that truck sent him trembling. I just tried to keep him walking forward and talked to him to keep him calm, but it wasn't working. One stray noise from the clattering engine and he flipped, half-rearing, landing, and then giving a little buck. I wasn't going to sit on him when the truck that had spooked him was still growling away next to the arena, and I was halfway out the saddle at that point anyway, so I didn't fight to stay on. I let myself fall and managed to stick the landing on my feet in a fashion that any gymnast would be jealous of.

Meanwhile, the other people in the ring were halted on their horses, and one was even mounting up; no other horse was anywhere near as bothered by that truck, but Blaze was still on his toes. I held his reins and kept circling him, trying to get his mind off the truck, talking to him to distract him. At that point my trainer had approached the ring, and I laughingly told her, "Oh, you missed all the action!" But the real action hadn't even begun.

The truck finished unloading and then rumbled its way out of the parking lot, which was WAY too much for Blaze to handle. (What has happened to my Ole Reliable horse?) He flipped out again, reared up all the way (at which point I dropped the reins and backed away), gave a buck or two and took off at a headlong gallop around the arena.

The other riders had to execute some emergency dismounts as my horse did not mind running up the tails of every other horse in the ring. There was some few missed kicks, and it was almost comical as my trainer and I failed in our attempt to corral my runaway horse. He'd slow to a trot and then halt in a corner, we'd approach him, be inches away from grabbing him, and he'd take off again.

At one point, he halted next to another rider in the ring who was kind of rattled at that point, bless her soul, and instead of grabbing his reins as he started walking up to her, thought it was a good idea to say, "No, Blaze," and wave her hands toward him to shoo him away. And of course, with hands flying in his face, he took off again.

It took us a good fifteen minutes (maybe twenty) of him galloping around, halting in a corner, us almost catching him, and then him slipping by us again, before my trainer finally caught him. She was completely pissed off at the stunt and hacked him herself for a few minutes to get him to behave. And then she turned him back over to me.

The poor boy had thoroughly exhausted himself at this point, and he moved around the rail like it was any ordinary lesson, completely sane. He was yawning before we finished the warm-up. Too bad it was his fault he was so tired. We pushed him through the lesson, keeping the jumps small, the contact firm, and the pace fast. I pushed him over a regular course and then, when he thought he was finished, kept him running to repeat the course again. Sixteen fences at what I would loosely describe as a hand-gallop and he was dead tired by the end of lesson.

I felt almost bad for him, he looked so sleepy when I brought him back to the barn. But I don't think he'll pull that stunt with me again anytime soon. And I think we've proven that he needs to get off the drugs and get some more turn out.

Oh, life with a high horse... Never a dull moment, huh?