Walk on the Wild Side

'The Wild Card'
from Dessa Hockley's book,
"Is Your Horse a Rock Star?"

It's probably been 6-8 months or longer since I used my round pen. Whenever Mr. Fry mows, he tills it for me, after which more rocks come to the surface, as they also do every time we get any significant rain. Where do they come from? I had to walk around for several minutes, chunking the bigger ones over the rails, and there were still a bunch, not to mention huge divots from where I dislodged them. Poco was not happy about the footing. The shaded side was still damp, and every lap we took found more rocks dislodged.

We rode for maybe 20 minutes before he tripped over a huge rock, enough that I was grateful not to be launched over his head. The ride wasn't stellar, by any means. Poco doesn't like the round pen at all. The free-longeing part went well, though. I'm getting better at communicating with my body language. That will come in handy when I start Daltrey.

When we got outside the gate, all bets were off. Poco was immediately jumpy and nervous, which I think is mostly an act, since this is his old familiar pasture. He just didn't want to. I rode him around for a minute or so, then got off and walked him back across the culvert to dismount. He's a mess.

I took him to Iron Ridge this week for pony play day, and there's no other way to put it: he was a total shit. Part of it was because this was the first time I took him away from Jaz and the baby since they've been home. Mike said one or both of the remaining Boyz carried on the whole time we were gone. I would have liked to know exactly whom and for how long, but that's not important to Mr. Fry.

I ran Poco around the arena before I tacked him up. Although mostly cooperative, he was just barely with me. He was so squirrelly, everybody else was really having to look out for us. When they left the arena, I tried to ride him out. He grabbed the bit at the gate and actually lifted his fronts off the ground. I rode him to the far end of the arena, got off, and backed him the entire length to the gate. I took him out, tacked him down, brought him back to the arena, and ran him some more. I only pushed the gate to, and he pushed it open and took off. Caught him, brought him back, and ran him some more. Basically until he was pleading to stop.

He was a contrite suck-up when I hosed him down. We had a brief discussion about doing it the easy way (my way) or the hard way. Then I made him stand there tied while I yakked with the pony pals. Oh, the indignity of it all. He was more than happy to get in the trailer. There was much calling and carrying on when we arrived back at Casa Fry.

I think I know why he is — call the anthropomorphism police — frustrated. He wants to GO. FAST. I am still not ready to just let him go, and especially when he's like THAT. We've got to be in "the zone" together before I can even think about letting him go. We were definitely not anywhere remotely close to that place and haven't been for several rides now. But we'll work through it like we always have before.

As much as I might like to take Jaz for a play day sometime soon, Poco has sealed his own fate until he gets back with the program. Heather asked how long it had been since we had seen Psycho Gelding, and it's been awhile. It would be unrealistic to think my Appy had changed his spots.