Yesterday, the first of February 2012, I was given one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive- one month with my pony. Arty is probably the greatest creature that has ever set foot... er, hoof on this planet. To better explain the situation, here's an excerpt from my other blog-
I found Arty in July 2009. He was a trail horse who had been given to his owner as he couldn't be ridden at the previous owner's schooling barn. When ridden, Arty would grab the bit in his mouth and take off with his nose in the air. The solution? He was ridden in a hackamore, and his head was kept in check with a martingale. Problem solved! Not. The first time I rode Arty, somebody held onto him while I hopped on (from the ground... he was afraid of mounting blocks). Immediately, I was holding him back. It took a lot of work, solely arm muscle, to keep him from breaking to trot. After making sure he had steering (kind of) and something resembling breaks (not really) we trotted. It was similar to riding... I don't really know. I've never really ridden anything like that. His trot was short and quick, very quick. After maybe 20 minutes he finally started to relax, a little. We tried the canter, and he picked up the proper lead despite not having been ridden in an arena in over three years, and having little arena experience priorto that. After that first ride, I'd fallen in love.
I spent the next few months instilling brakes, steering, and trust. He was quite the nervous little pony- tense as a wire the moment you hopped on his back. If you patted him, moved your arms, carried a whip, he freaked. The poor little guy couldn't even tolerate a scratch on his neck. Other things were missing too. He didn't like to pick up his feet, would shy away from saddle pads, blankets, etc. and to this day has never totally overcome his fear of water. I remain the sole person to successfully forge a stream on him. He did howeevr, improve. A year after I started riding him, I started showing him. Just fun little low hunter stuff. He was far from perfect. We needed to have a bit, but he still wasn't quite comfortable with them so I'd warm up in a hackamore, pop his bit in, and go in & jump our course. He'd never canter too fast, and I'd just circle a lot to stop! We didn't do flat classes... for obvious reasons.
It was through Arty that I met my coach. I'd spent a year training this runaway trail horse into a solid riding pony, but I needed help. With the help of my coach, I improved his straightness, responsiveness, and contact/frame. He was doing spectacularly. Then things changed- I got my own mare. My girl is amazing, and I love her to death. I left my pony in loving hands with the knowledge that I could come visit, ride, and play with him any time.
At first, all was well. I'd go feed him treats, and every now and again his owner would offer me a ride. But eventually, I started hearing stories- this person did this to him, that person did that. The light in his eyes went out. He no longer nickered when he heard my voice, no longer greeted me with perked ears at the front of his stall. Two instances snapped me: In one a girl who has been riding him attempted to gallop him in the arena. At this point in time (I know this because I'd ridden him a week or two earlier) he didn't have the muscle or condition to canter a circle. The girl spured him into a gallop, and when he couldn't turn, he hit the fence and she was thrown. Another time someone took him on a trail. They galloped the whole way, in a western saddle that (without a word of exxageration) covered his LOINS going right to his croup, and threw him in his stall soaking wet without grooming him or putting on a cooler. I arrived and groomed away the icicles that had formed on his chest. It broke my heart to see my baby in this condition. Thus, for the motnh of February, he is mine. It is my attempt to save my pony, even if its only for the time being. I hope to rebuild some of his muscle, regain his lost straightness, and put the spark back in my pony's eye. One month's better than nothing.
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