Memories of Bonnie

I had occasion to see my old riding buddy, Diane, at a birthday dinner yesterday.

She was the riding buddy of my youth -- I was about 21 when I met her, and we were riding buddies for about 8 years when we shared a back fence in a horse-allowed suburban neighborhood in west Phoenix from about 1976 to 1984.

We trained horses together, barrel raced together, trail rode together, battled a developer together, spent nearly all our spare time together.

While reminiscing about horses we'd owned, she reminded me of Bonnie -- the only animal I've ever been afraid of. I thought I'd share part of the "Suburban Horse Trainer" chapter from my book here:


I’ve never been afraid of any animal in my life. When I was three years old I stared down a bull -- a bull who was staring back at me across a distance of maybe twenty feet. We found this bull roaming loose somewhere on the Arizona desert near a spot my dad had chosen for an impromptu picnic on the way to California. No doubt his cows were nearby, but we did not see them, only the bull. This was not some tame Ferdinand on Grandpa's farm, but a herd animal whose only contact with man was branding time. I remember no fear, only a desire to pet it. I had no reason to be afraid of the bull; I had no way of knowing it could hurt me.

My mother, on the other hand, was screaming.

Growing up with a wildlife biologist for a father, we learned to love and respect but not fear animals at a very early age. We learned to identify and avoid the poisonous snakes and lizards and scorpions of the desert, but not to fear them. We learned that the larger animals, from coyotes to deer to bears, were "more afraid of you than you are of them".

Animals were my life, at least in my fantasies. But while my father's footsteps led into the forest where the Bambis and Thumpers of the world lived, my heart led me to follow the path of Roy Rogers and all my other cowboy heroes.

I wanted to be a cowboy.

And a cowboy couldn’t be afraid of a little old bull with big brown eyes. I knew this even at the age of three.

Twenty years later, my best friend Diane and I were the neighborhood horse experts, and we had some success breaking our various horses of their various bad habits, using those books and magazines as our guide. We had been lucky and never had any accidents of any importance. We thought we were pretty good "cowboys".

Until we met Bonnie.

Diane’s children had outgrown their pony so she advertised it in the paper. Someone who was interested in the pony had a young Appaloosa mare that was only green-broke, and they wondered if Diane would take the mare in trade for the pony. With the idea of finishing the mare's training and selling her at a profit, Diane agreed to the deal, never guessing what would be the outcome of that optimistic decision.

Bonnie was a pretty little mare, red bay with a nicely spotted blanket. She was basically sweet and easy to handle, but had not been ridden much and had not been handled properly up to that point. No problem. We would soon have her eating out of our saddlebags, so to speak.

As we began to work with the mare, we discovered she had one teensy little bad habit that manifested itself whenever she was scared. She would do a backward somersault. She didn't exactly rear up and fall over backward, but she would scramble backward so fast she would get her hind feet up under her belly and she'd sort of sit down and roll over backward. This was all accomplished at lightning speed.

This usually happened when we tied her up (she would throw herself backward and break the rope) or saddled her. But she never did it when Diane tried to mount or after she was in the saddle.

We worked with her for several weeks and she got a lot better. Our saddle club organized a trail ride in the desert one weekend, and Diane decided to bring Bonnie to see how she would be around other horses.

Actually, she was fine – perhaps the tiniest bit skittish, but it was all new to her, and Diane handled her patiently. Up till then, Diane had been the only one riding her, and my role had been largely that of advisor. (I had this authoritative way of leaning against the corral fence, one foot on the bottom rail, arms crossed on the top rail, saying "Pull her head up a little," and "She's on the wrong lead". You know – the really helpful stuff.)

As the day wound to an end, some of the riders wanted to ride over to the faucet at the other end of the picnic area to water the horses, so Diane grabbed a water bucket and started to climb on Bonnie's back. I was on the other side of the horse trailer and didn't see what happened, but I heard later from Diane that she had mounted awkwardly with the bucket on one arm, it rattled as she was in the middle of swinging up, and Bonnie just stepped sideways and Diane landed right on her tailbone in the dirt.

X-rays showed that Diane didn't break anything, but she did bend that tailbone and was unable to sit a horse for some time after that. So here we were with a green horse in the middle of training, and the last thing the horse remembers was stepping sideways and losing her rider.

Well, any good book will tell you that you can't let the horse have the last word like that, so somebody had to keep riding that mare or the combination of that mishap and a prolonged lack of exercise would make her even more skittish than before. We'd be back to square one.

Now, you have to remember, I had been a witness to this horse's progress and I knew she had those little quirks about flying over backward for no apparent reason. I also knew she wasn't a malicious horse, only nervous, and simply needed some gentle but firm handling so she could develop confidence in herself and her handlers.

One week after the mishap, I confidently groomed and saddled the mare with Diane looking on. There were two things going through my mind. One, I had no idea what this mare might or might not do (or maybe the problem was that I DID have an idea what she might do!) but I knew if I didn't get her training right back on course she might never be fully trained.

The second thing on my mind was my best friend, standing there (because she couldn't sit) a week after a fall, and knowing she hadn't been able to get back on after the fall, and that the longer she stayed off the horse, the greater the risk that she would develop a fear, if not of riding in general, then certainly of this mare.

But I wasn't afraid. I had never feared an animal in my life, going all the way back to the bull I had met at the age of three, and I certainly wasn't going to let this upstart of a mare be the first.

I led the mare into the front yard to mount her, and just as I put a foot in the stirrup, she blew up, throwing herself onto her back, legs flailing in the air, the saddle pinned beneath her. Luckily my foot slipped back out of the stirrup and I was able to jump out of her way. Heart pounding, I watched her struggle to get back up, and for the first time in my life, I knew what it felt like to have my "heart in my mouth."

I also knew for the first time what if felt like to be absolutely terrified of an animal. I really did feel like I was choking on my own heart as I gritted my teeth and scolded, "Bonnie! Get up from there, you idiot horse!" Of course, I had to laugh and smile around the lump of heart that was trying to climb out of my lips while I was saying that. In the two seconds the horse was on the ground, I knew that there was only one thing I could do if I ever wanted my friend to ride with me again.

I had to pretend this was no big deal. With a nonchalance I did not feel, I tugged the reins authoritatively and said, "Now, stand still, you silly horse. Nobody's going to hurt you!" To Diane I said, "That was my fault. I pulled on her mane when I went to climb on. I must have scared her."

"Easy, girl, it's okay." I stroked the mare's neck, which was already damp with perspiration, and tried to choke down the fear that was screaming at me, "You idiot! That horse could kill you! What are you trying to prove? Get away from this lunatic! She's not even your horse! You don't have to do this!" Fear is a very talkative companion.

I glanced at Diane, who was watching my every move, and I saw the flicker of fear in her eyes. I knew what I had to do. I swallowed hard, took the slack out of the reins, grasped the saddle horn, and swung quickly into the saddle.

Bonnie danced around a little when my weight hit the saddle, then she settled down. My heart returned to its proper place in my chest, and I crossed the road to the empty lot and began to work the horse.


It was years before I could admit to Diane that I had been terrified of that horse that day. She had bought my confident act and believed that if I wasn't afraid of Bonnie, she didn't need to be. She eventually rode Bonnie herself and finished her training before selling her several months later.

I look back on that time with mixed emotions now. I know if I had it to do over again, I would do exactly the same thing, but I can't help feeling the whole thing was very foolhardy. Diane’s two children watched the whole incident, and I wonder what they carried away from the episode.

Did they think I was brave or foolish? Or did they learn that sometimes you have to face fear and conquer it in order to live with yourself later?

Hopefully they learned that animals are usually "more afraid of you than you are of them" and that overcoming that very mutual fear is the first step to understanding them – and ourselves.

And maybe my mother had good reason to scream when I started to toddle toward that bull.



And that's the latest reminisce from the Ranch.

Learning something new

Had my first dressage lesson today on a really big (about 16.2) horse named Paul. At the moment we're just getting familiar with each other -- me with the horse, the horse with me, the trainer with my level of competence, me with her teaching style -- but I think I actually did pretty well. I've had lessons a couple times in the past and I was able to self-correct some of what were weaknesses in my past, and some of my old issues seem to no longer be part of my repertoire.

My hands remembered how to hold the reins correctly, I remembered to keep my head up and look through turns, which has become my habit with my own horses. I did a fairly creditable posting trot and only had to ask once which shoulder I was supposed to post to because I can never remember (it's the outside shoulder, I rise when it moves forward). I corrected quickly the couple times when the horse broke gait (came down to a walk) for a stride, throwing off my rhythm.

The horse is nice and responsive and well-trained, a little on the lazy side at the walk but trotted out without my having to ask repeatedly. He's 22 and an appendix quarter horse who clearly has a lot more thoroughbred blood in him than my 23 year old appendix quarter horse mare (Dottie).

So in between lessons I need to work on posting trot to build strength in my thigh muscles, and doing a lot of big circles, striving for smooth arcs.

It was very cold today and threatening rain and the trainer called me at 11:30 to see if I planned to cancel and I told her I was about to call her to see if the arena condition was such that we would have to cancel, but I had otherwise planned to bundle up and not let cold keep me from the lesson. I told her later I was a mounted posse member who needed to be able to ride in any weather so was not about to cancel unless there was a compelling reason to cancel, such as a muddy arena or pouring rain.

I'm just not going to be a wuss about it.

But as it turned out, I removed my vest and my glove liners and left off the winter helmet cover (that has a wraparound to cover the ears) because the sun came out through the clouds just at the time of my lesson and it was actually very pleasant! It felt good to be in the sun after two days of gloom, rain, and even some snow.

I used my own saddle on Paul but due to his size I had to use their girth -- mine was WAY too short!

So I have embarked on my new "career" as a dressage rider and am looking forward to getting in shape, getting to where I can move all of my body parts independently, and work more as a team with my horse, which really is what the art of dressage is about -- the partnership between rider and horse. The dancing moves come as a result of that, but the partnership has to be there first.

But I really am looking forward to riding the passage that I saw Dottie do last week. It may take years of training -- or maybe only months -- I have no idea. It will depend on how much effort I put into it and how my body holds up. Tonight my back is out a little bit. I'm being reminded that I should have done this thirty years ago. But I'm doing it now, and I hope I can stay with it long enough to achieve that unity with the horse that I hope to achieve.

And that's the latest from the Ranch.

Dottie's new career??

Wow.... I recently decided to start dressage lessons and I start those lessons next Wednesday. I will be riding one of their horses, because I didn't feel either Dawn nor Dash would be very good at it, not enough impulsion, neither is collecting yet -- things needed for a dressage horse.

Well today George, my natural hoofcare practitioner, came to trim horse feet. I had given old Dottie a dose of bute (pain killer) because it's painful for her to stand on three feet for very long. She's been doing so well since she got that HA shot I thought maybe it might help her stand without pain if I worked her a little before she had to stand for George. So I put her on a line and took her into the arena to limber her up.

I was longeing her, which means I stand still and hold the rope and she goes circles around me. She walked and trotted and I even had her canter and she was doing great, very animated and feeling good, snorting and blowing, and really enjoying herself, and then all of a sudden . . . she was doing this lovely passage, and I can't describe it, see the link below, but my arthritic old mare was doing this beautiful, bouncy, animated haute ecole movement -- and then she stunned me further by doing a piaffe for a few beats.

http://www.equestrianlife.com/videos/watch/472/Piaffe_&_Passage_in_Dressage

23 years old, retired, arthritic mare dancing for me at the end of a rope -- and not a camera around.

She may have just become my dressage horse.

Two days, two rides, two horses

Two beautiful sunny days, two rides, two beautiful horses.

Saturday I joined another posse member, Cindy, in her neck of the woods in Tonto Basin. I took Dawn and we rode out in the desert where she showed me the ruins of Fort Reno, a remnant from the days of the Apache wars here in Arizona. If it weren't for the sign you'd never know it was anything but a bunch of rocks, but those rocks are still piles in walls, nearly buried in desert sands, and she was able to point out the infirmary area, a stores area, and other buildings. She's somewhat of a history buff and told me about fires that had destroyed the adobe walls, leaving nothing but the stone foundations.

Also in the area are various Indian ruins and some graves. One of the graves had been opened at some point, an Indian grave, and we talked about how neither of us would ever desecrate an Indian grave. Who knows if it's true, but in the movies, desecrating Indian burial grounds brings mucho bad karma -- or loss of scalp if caught!

We had a lovely ride, most on trails or old roads, some pushing through catclaw and mesquite. The area had burned about five years ago. While there was lots of green on the ground where the grasses had recovered, it looks like the only shrubbery to survive the fire was the nasty catclaw. I still have a hole in one finger from where a claw got me through my gloves.

The next day was a mock search with the posse. Dawn had rolled in pee and manure and was a filthy pig so I took the much-cleaner Dash on that ride. We were using our GPS radios to track a teenage boy who rode his quad out in the brush, parked it, then hiked away from it before transmitting his location. We had to use our GPS radios to home in on his location and find him.

We were split into two groups riding from different directions, and it was my group who found him. Some of the ride was somewhat reminiscent of the ride up Gibson Peak in September (see one of my first posts on this blog under the October tab) -- very rocky and steep, took much skill on the part of the horses to navigate it safely, although not as steep, nor as long a trek as Gibson. Dash did great.

Rod, who was also on Gibson Peak with me that day, was also in my search group, and as we came off the mountain, I commented to him, "After Gibson Peak, this is a piece of cake." He agreed.

Anyway, two vigorous rides in two days. With tax season upon me, that won't happen very often for the next few months so I was glad to get in those two rides.

And that's the latest from the Ranch. I've got tax returns to do!

Riding Dawn

I realized today that I hadn't ridden Dawn since the kids came up at Thanksgiving. Partly that is because Dash is my first love so I usually ride her just because I enjoy her so much. Partly it is because Dawn is a pig and likes to roll in mud so it's faster to tack Dash up because I don't have to do so much cleaning. And partly it's because Dawn occasionally has attitude and most of the time I don't want to deal with attitude, although truth be told she seems to have outgrown most of it anyway.

Dawn usually goes on the tough rides, the posse rides, and the posse training ride, however, and this weekend we are having a mock search. So I need to ride her because she usually settles down if she's ridden three days in a row. So that's my goal for this week, to ride Dawn every day.

So I went out about 3:30 and put the other two away and led Dawn to the tack room. She wasn't as filthy as she was right after the last rain so it didn't take that long to brush off the mud and put on a saddle. I took her into the round pen to settle her down and she immediately began tearing around, which is what she normally does when I first bring her into the round pen.

I let her run, then started controlling her. In about five minutes I was able to bring her down to a trot and walk on command, then back up to a more restrained canter. Many reversals of direction were done to further engage the "thinking side of her brain" as the horse whisperers call it. Finally I slipped on a bridle and got on her and rode her a bit at the walk and trot but only in the round pen.

She did fine. She's really wonderfully responsive, even more so than Dash, and I started working her on collection a little bit. I'm planning to start taking some dressage lessons soon and I'm debating about using a lesson horse or maybe trying to do it on Dawn. But she's a long way from collecting on command so I'll probably take the lessons on the trainer's horse and try to teach Dawn some of it on my own time once I start getting the hang of some of it.

But it was good to get back on her again. And I need to be sure, now that tax season has arrived, to give Dawn her turn in the rotation and not just ride Dash all the time because it's quicker. The more Dawn is ridden, the better she gets. I say all the time that she's actually the better horse. But Dash is the one I love, so unfortunately for second-born Dawn, she's still second choice for my pleasant evening rides.

Until the going gets tough. Then she's #1.

I think sometimes about selling her to someone for whom SHE will be #1 all the time, but I enjoy having both of my girls, and their mother, and I know it would be hard on both me and the horses to separate them, so as long as I can still scrape up the money to feed them all, I will keep her.

And I'll be back on her every day this week, so when it's time for the mock search this Sunday I will simply load her up and let her do her job, instead of taking Dash again.

And that's the latest from the Ranch.

Back to normal

Got some tax work out of the way today and had time to actually get on Dash for a ride. My riding buddy Tessa got off work early and called while I was at the grocery store, saying she would be home in 20 minutes. I grabbed a gallon of milk and abandoned the rest of the shopping trip to rush home to my horse.

I'd been concerned that she might not be quite 100% after her illness. There hadn't been much opportunity between sub teaching and trips out of town to really evaluate how she was feeling; all I could do was monitor intake and output but her overall attitude still seemed a bit "off."

But after she stood quietly for saddling, something two properties over caught her attention (I never did see what it was) and she got a bit snorty and blowy and prancy, which I took as a good sign (except for the fact that I thought she had been desensitized to just about anything, let alone something two acres away).

So I did some circling with her and made her lead over to the fence line to look at whatever it was that was disturbing her and finally she sighed and settled down and I got on, called the dogs, and rode over to Tessa's.

She was very good on the ride, perfectly willing and responsive. As usual I was riding in just the halter and lead rope without a bit. Part of the time we led and part of the time we followed Tessa's mare, Jessie. Just about the time we were thinking of turning around so we could get back by dark, we heard voices and then saw a white tent and bonfire, and then four dogs ran out to meet up with our four dogs.

Humans came and controlled one of the dogs; the other three were small and no fights ensued. The horses were both a bit boogered. Tessa had dismounted but I stayed in the saddle. There was an old bin that it looked like they had been using for target practice that was bothering the horses so I rode Dash up to it and had her touch it with her nose.

We turned around and all of a sudden my horse who had been nervous, but willing to approach the camp, the fire, and the scary old bin suddenly decided it was time to get out of there. She bolted a little, clearly nervous about having all those scary objects, people, and dogs behind her where she couldn't see them, and I pulled her up and decided to get off and lead her.

I'm not sure who was leading who, though, and I kept having to stop her, back her up, or circle her. Eventually she settled down and I got back on and had an uneventful ride the rest of the way home.

Contrasted with the ride of December 26, the day I discovered she had the fever, she seemed to be back to normal today. On that day, she had been so quiet, compliant, and non-reactive I had wondered aloud if she might be sick, and it turned out she was. But today she was in tune with her surroundings and showing some spunk.

I think my girl has come back to normal, except for continuing to refuse to eat teff hay.

I am relieved, of course, because these last three + weeks have been a constant worry, wondering what was actually wrong with her and if it was truly over. I still don't know what was wrong, but I believe it is truly over.

And that's the latest from the Ranch.

An unusual tax deduction

I just realized it has been 10 days since my last blog post. It's amazing how quickly life sucks the time right off the clock, leaving me little to pursue what I love -- riding and writing about horses.

Very few people can make a living with their horses, and unfortunately I'm not one of them. Not everyone is as lucky as Jerry and Ann Moss, owners of the beautiful race mare, Zenyatta, who earned them millions of dollars on the track and is now two months from delivering a valuable foal that may follow in Lady Z's footsteps. (I wonder if they'd like to adopt me?)

No, for most of us, our horses do not provide cash inflow to put on our tax returns; they require cash outflow that does not USUALLY get deducted on our tax returns. Unless you're a mounted posse member.

I should know. The Suburban Cowgirl is an accountant and tax preparer and a member of a posse.

This will be an interesting tax return for me this year. I joined the Gila County Sheriff's Mounted Posse the end of 2010 and spent a lot of time and money in 2011 taking classes, going to training events, and keeping my posse horses in condition in case we were called out to a search. And, of course, actually spending three days pushing through manzanita on a search last September.

I made the decision to keep Dawn as a posse horse instead of trying to sell her, as I had been planning to do. That decision turned her into a tax deduction for me.

There are certain requirements for me to be able to deduct Dawn's expenses on my Schedule A as a charity donation. First, the work I did with the horse has to be on behalf of a 501c3 organization, which the Gila County Sheriff's department is. Second, I need to get a letter of acknowledgment from that organization stating what services I provided. With those two conditions met, I can write off the expenses of maintaining and caring for my posse horse, in addition to unreimbursed expenses driving to training or rescue events and costs of first aid courses, rescue gear and first aid gear, and other expenses incurred in this pursuit.

Generally, the basic care and maintenance of a horse is going to be in the range of $1500 a year (if you have a place to keep it -- add $100 a month if it's boarded out). That will become part of my Itemized deductions, so if my mortgage interest and property taxes are high enough it will put me over the Standard deduction.

This isn't quite the windfall it looks like. My other itemized deductions are about $5000, so normally I would take the Standard Deduction instead. With my standard deduction being $5800 this year, the posse deduction will put me over that but will yield a reduction in taxable income of only $700 ($5000+1500-5800). In the 15% tax bracket, that will save me a whopping $105 in taxes, a far cry from the $1500 I will have spent to get that refund.

But that $105 will buy ... is it 5 or 10 bales of hay? Depends if I buy them this month or the middle of next summer ... IF the price of hay goes back down. Either way, it's better than paying the $1500 and NOT getting 5 or 10 bales of hay in return.

Even if I doubled the deduction to $3000 with trailer repairs and other things, that only yields another $225 in tax relief.

So the deduction helps, but that's not the reason I participate in the posse; I would do it even if it wasn't deductible. I am compelled to try to help people, and using my horses to help others helps mitigate the guilt of enjoying them. (It just seems so unfair that I have this wonderful life and others don't.)

I will write off Dawn's expenses, and save the $100 or 200 in taxes, and not feel guilty about that at all. Having a team of people willing to drop what they are doing, load up horses and drive into the wilderness to find a lost child, or rescue an injured hiker, or find an overdue hunter who might have had a heart attack is important to the community and a tremendous resource for the sheriff's department. If there were no search and rescue volunteers, the sheriff's department would have to send paid deputies to do this work, at taxpayer expense. (Can you spell O-V-E-R-T-I-M-E?)

One deputy standing in for me for just one of the days I searched last year would cost the public far more than the little bit of tax relief I get.

It's probably one of the most lucrative "bang for the buck" any tax deduction yields to this country.

I shall write off Dawn's expenses as a patriotic duty ...

... in October. I'll be too busy doing other people's taxes to do my own in April so I'll be filing an extension again.

And that's the latest from the Ranch.