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Mistakes Made

My belief, that Tinni was the most dependable, and bombproof horse ever, was put to the test on December 16, 2008.

We all make mistakes. Sometimes we learn from them, and sometimes not. Today I learned a few things that I hope will serve me in good stead in my future horse dealings.

I wanted to get a ride in on Raudi before noon, so that after, she’d have time to cool down. I wasn’t overly concerned about her overheating, it was 12 degrees out, practically balmy. Palmer was back to being the banana belt of Alaska.

I couldn’t find Raudi’s bridle. I looked high and low and places in between. I decided to abandon plan #1, and go with plan #2, which was to take Tinni out. My thinking was that the bridle would turn up. In the meantime, he’d get an outing.

I took him out, and fed him next to the trailer, the tie up/grooming area. I didn’t tie him up; instead, I tossed the lead rope over his back, and let him eat. I’d just finished tacking Tinni up, when Rainbow appeared from out of nowhere, and started barking. Tinni immediately took off, and ran, bucking and kicking, behind the horse shelter. He emerged on the other side and joined Raudi, who raced along beside him, on her side of the fence. Rainbow was at Tinni’s heels. I stood next to Siggi’s enclosure, and watched the show. I was not pleased with Tinni’s actions; however, I was glad to see that he was feeling good. A year ago he was down with pneumonia. I then figured that his lackluster behavior had something to do with the fact that he was an old, rather than a young 19. (Icelandics are long-lived horses, many live to be 40 or more.) A round of antibiotics and a diet consisting (in part) of respiratory herbs, glucosamine, rice bran, and dust-free green hay brought about a turn around.

I walked around the far side of the pen. Pete grabbed Rainbow and I grabbed Tinni. I lead him down the driveway’s edge, and got on. Tinni then lifted his head high, wheeled around and raced up the driveway. All I thought was that I had to keep him away from the pit, a large hole that adjoins the main pen. (It’s a collection site for enclosure runoff water.) Somehow, we avoided it. I yelled at Tinni to whoa, and for Pete, who was standing close by, to grab him. Pete wisely jumped aside, and Tinni and I continued up the hill. I felt the saddle slip, I felt myself slip. I tumbled off. My right hip hit the ground first. I laid on the ground and assessed the situation. My hip hurt, but it wasn’t broken. Pete helped me stand up.

I walked over to Tinni, who had stopped, and lead him back to the trailer.

“I guess he was upset about something,” Pete said.

“Yeah, upset about something,” I replied, adding, “I have to get back on him. If I don’t,
I’ll never ride again.”

Pete held Tinni while I loosened the girth, readjusted the saddle, and refastened the girth. This time, I walked him down past the driveway gate, and then closed it behind me. I then had Pete hold him; I climbed up on the mounting block, and set myself down gently in the saddle. I indicated to Pete that I was okay, and continued on down the road, past the barking dogs. Five or so minutes later, I squeezed my legs, and asked Tinni to trot. He tucked his head and began moving nicely beneath me. We then rounded the turn onto Samovar, and I cued him to Canter. Tinni took off at a gallop, not stopping until we reached the top of the hill. We worked on walk/trot/tolt transitions, passing the turn to our place, and continuing down Murphy Road.

We came upon an idling car with a Christmas tree stuffed in the back—Tinni, feigning fear, did what my friend Brandi calls the Tinni scuttle, a quick move forward followed by a few steps of canter.

“Nice horse,” the car driver said.

“Most of the time,” I replied. “Today he’s a bit on edge.” I said.

We moved on, and turned onto the Murphy Road Trail. It appeared ideal for riding. The snowmobilers had packed it down hard. It appeared to be a long white road, lined by snow-covered spruce trees. Again we trotted and then settled into a balanced, collected walk. I rode the loop, a distance of about a mile, then elected to return home. We trotted up Murphy a ways, then I got off him, loosened his girth, and walked the remaining mile. His chest appeared frosty, so this to me seemed like a wise move. On our walk home, I retraced my figurative steps. I was lucky, neither horse nor rider had been injured. I had, however, done several things wrong, things that I vowed to do differently in the future. Essentially, I needed to be more mindful. My carelessness occurred in part because of my belief that Tinni is a bombproof horse, and being bombproof, he won’t ever act in an unpredictable fashion. This in part is based upon the fact that he has never before made a bad move. But as he demonstrated, like all healthy horses, he too can act in an unpredictable fashion.

Had I taken the time to tie him up, he would not have run off the first time. And had I taken him through the gate and closed it behind me, he would not have run off the second time. And had I rechecked my girth and tightened it a few notches, I would not have come off. I made yet another connection when I arrived home. As I lead Tinni up to the trailer, I noticed that he hadn’t finished his grain. Add to my list this: had I fed him in his pen, as I usually do, he would not have attempted to run back to his unfinished breakfast.

Some scoff at the idea of hindsight, saying that what’s done is done. I beg to differ. Hindsight does have its virtues. I may very well make other mistakes, but because I’ve given thought to the matter, the ones I made this morning are ones that I’m not going to make again.

Alys
Pete
Raudi
Siggi

Tinni
Older Horse
Inner Voice
Mistakes Made
Bootleg

Rainbow
Jenna
Goats
Chickens