Ledger Sees a Ghost: Old Selam Day 2 & 3

I’d made a tentative plan to ride with friends from the day before ~ the ones with the young Arab and the adorable mule ~ having first extracted a promise that they wouldn’t wait around for me if I needed to work Ledger through some challenges.

We started with groundwork again and waited for the crowd to leave. As agreed, our friends went on ahead. The trail began just as on Day 1 ~ with a sharp turn back toward camp just a quarter mile out. This time, I was prepared for fireworks! 

But, none came. Bonus: I didn’t have to wade across the creek.

Sure, Ledger was excited. No, he didn’t want to walk. But we didn’t have any crazy antics ~ and blessedly, no more half-rears. Yesterday had taught us that neither the leverage of a junior cowhorse bit nor the gentleness of a mullen mouth was ideal for him in this situation. I really wanted a regular, d-ring twisted wire snaffle, but I didn’t have one along. So, we made do with the non-leverage ring on the junior cowhorse.

Loop 1 featured the usual assortment of youngster shenanigans: Trot too fast, try to canter, get denied, try again. Trot really fast. Catch up with mule and spend a couple miles with muzzle buried in mule’s tail. (May the heavens rain down carrots upon Applejack the Mule. He is my hero.)

Eventually, I had to hop off to correct those dang twisting hoof boots. Applejack and friends went on ahead. Ledger jigged and levitated and attempted all manner of protest as I led him for quite a while before hopping on to climb a steep bit of single track. He trotted up it politely…and stepped out of a hind boot. Gah!

I was off again, reinstalling the boot, when a couple different friends went by. Yep, we’re okay, thanks! See you up the trail!

And we did. Several times. The three of us leapfrogged the remainder of the loop, which isn’t my favorite situation but offered a great training opportunity for Ledger. We just kept on doing our thing, riding our own ride. As the miles passed, I noticed that I was making more and more of my corrections from the saddle instead of on the ground, feeling safe and in control as we slowly worked out the behavioral kinks. 

The last couple miles of the loop found us a hundred yards or so behind another rider, who was taking it slow. Ledger still had plenty of spark, but this was a perfect chance to make him deal with going my pace despite seeing another horse ahead. We walked ~ or tried to ~ and yielded into a one-rein stop every time he broke gait. Over and over. Finally, he got it.

We walked in on a loose rein. Good boy!

Now, the vet. Ledger had been quite an embarrassment on Day 1, fidgeting, half-heartedly swiping at the vet with a hind leg (GASP!), and running me over on his trot-out. This time, I did a little extra work before getting in line: I thoroughly patted down Ledger’s belly and flanks looking for ticklish spots (none found) and reminded him of his head-down cue.

It worked. He vetted through politely ~ more A’s on everything ~ and proceeded to eat and drink well during the hold. When the hold ended, I was relieved to find that the miles finally seemed to be making a dent in Ledger’s enthusiam. We trotted quietly out of camp, again on a loose rein. And (drum roll, please…) I didn’t dismount a single time during the second loop. Huzzah! 

We finished with all As. The vet said we were good to go for Day 3, if we wanted. I did want to, of course… but …75 miles in a weekend for a first-time horse? That sounded like an awful lot. I want to build this horse, not break him!

Not one to pass up an opportunity to build on his improvements, however, I volunteered to pull ribbon on a 12-mile loop. We could do those miles slowly, I figured, and mull over our lessons learned.

So, Sunday afternoon found us moseying at a leisurely pace, side passing and backing and circling to snag ribbons from bushes and branches.

All went well, until Ledger saw a ghost.

You see, Centerville is an old western town, the kind that has a few overgrown cemeteries lurking in its surrounding woods. Tombstones rise from mossy earth, ringed by iron fences, adorned with gothic crosses and names split in half by time. It’s just the sort of place to scare the bejeezus out of visiting teenagers. Or, as it happens, my horse.

Ledger and I were happily jogging up a hill, his tack adorned with ribbons, when all the blood drained from his body. He went stiff as a corpse, shuddered, then rolled back and bolted down the trail.  

One-rein stop!

Ledger folded around and stood still, shaking. I tried not to let him see me laugh. He absolutely refused to go back up that hill. I got off and showed him the way, but not without stopping to document his bulging eyeballs as he skirted the cemetery with flanks aquiver.