Shameless Plug and Eight Belles

You must know someone deserving of one, two, or even three awesome horse books. I might even be convinced to offer a three-fer. One never knows. All three of my books are available through iUniverse, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and me (if you're local--no point throwing shipping costs to the wind). It's a Horse's Life! traces a year in the horse world with instructions on how (or how not) to turn a backyard barn into a boarding farm. Horses in the Yard is a treatise on what it is to own horses and deal with their quirks and sublime craziness. Horses Happen! is a how-to and survival guide for the poor soul thinking about buying their first horse and for the more experienced horse person who just wants a trip down Bad-Memory Lane. Buy them! You'll like them, I promise.

So much for the Shameless Plug.

On to the legacy of Eight Belles. I must credit this photo as deserved to the site Eight Belles Legacy where you will find ample photos of this lovely girl and other racehorses upon whose sadness stands a wonderful effort to bring about some changes in the racing industry.

If there's anything sadder than the agony of a fatally injured horse in any discipline, it's the willingness of critics to jump on every effort to improve the contributing situation. The initiation of the NTRA SIA, an independent commission set up to ask the important questions and take feedback from the public, should have been welcomed by all horse lovers. Unfortunately, there will always be naysayers in the muddle. In this case they are nay-saying that this is a hired-gun committee under the thumb of the racing industry and that no change will come from its efforts. This is almost as rational as the Palin Death Squads and my suspicion that the aliens took my excellent horse and replacing him with a weird doppleganger resistant to my perfect training methods.

But if you are a fan (or a foe) of racing and would like to have your say, email your comments to NTRAindependentmonitor@akingump.com. They take all comers. Tell them how you feel about training methods, breeding, track footing, feeding, how cute those jockeys' silks are...anything that you feel needs to be addressed. Then do your homework and stay on top of what's going on in racing. If you're dissatisfied with the speed or efficacy of the changes, say so. What you can't do is loiter around the networking sites and the horse forums and grab just any post by any stranger and take it as gospel to be passed on relentlessly.

Change in any area of life requires commitment and reasonable expectations. Join the effort or leave it alone. Undermining it isn't an option for a Thinking Horseman.

When is a Horse Not a Horse?

First, go buy my book. Then I'll be happy to answer the question.

I'll wait....................













Okay. Thanks. I'm counting on getting rich and famous, so keep ordering.

The answer to the question is "Never!"

Simplistic? Not really. The subject of "horseness" was brought home to me recently when I followed up with action the words of my favorite horse psychic, Ginny Palmieri. It all seemed so straightforward. Zip has pain in his withers, so I put a wider gullet in the saddle and added a gel pad. Bingo! Dakota feels he should be recognized for not bucking off the beginners I put on his back, but he likes teaching people about horses. Gave him some strokes and an apple, and gave the barn slave a lesson. Yee-HAH! Leo wants more attention. Easiest of all since he's the horse most likely to have his nose in my armpit wherever I travel. Zap!

On down the list of complaints and requests I went, fixing and adjusting wherever I could, fully expecting in the end that there would be considerable change in the animals' attitudes and behaviors. In truth, there has been, but all within the "Horseness" parameters. This is where beginners and stubborn experienced horse people come a-cropper of the reality of Horse Life. When a human loved one says, "Stop poking me in the eye and I'll gladly make you dinner on Friday night," it's a safe bet we can interpret that in clearly literal terms. I pocket my finger; Cliff gets out the fry pan.

In the horse world, however, it's not so clear-cut. Horses have other things going on in their lives besides us. Horses remember things like pain, while we often forget where we parked the car. Horses know that squirrels don't have their best interests at heart. And horses don't just shrug and let bygones be bygones. It's a process. Correction of situations requires a lengthy series of repetitions, small improvements, incremental adjustments, and, in time, possible success. No matter how hard we try, they will never really speak Human, and we can only approximate Horse.

So that's my warning for today. Finding out that there's a problem is great. Acknowledging that you are the cause is the next step. Making adjustments and apologies as needed is required. Then you wait...patiently...for what might be a very, very long time. Frustration must not cause rushiness. Anger may not creep into the equation. We must be one with the Cosmos and let the horse work through whatever he's working through and be delighted when the change finally comes. We must Be the Horse, who waits for years for us to notice that his stall floor lists to the north so he's got one shoulder that's higher than the other.

I'm human enough to deal with that. Are you?

Buy My Book (and other stuff)

Well, it's finally happened! Be sure to get your copies today. There's no telling when the world might actually come to a end. You wouldn't want to miss this opportunity!

Click on the book cover for a quick trip to the publisher's place, or wait a little and visit Amazon.com or Barnes&Noble.com if you prefer. Order all three of my books at once at Amazon and you'll qualify for free "Super Saver" shipping! Yee-HAH! It's available in paperback for $13.95, e-book (from the publisher) at $6.00, and Kindle version at Amazon for $7.99. Pick one. Or two. They're small.

It's a seriously good book for novice owners or for those of us more experienced horsey types who like to laugh at novice horse owners. It'll bring back memories.

On to other stuff!

This has been a big week for my horses. Not only have they come face-to-face with impending winter lay-off time (and seem to be doing a snow dance as I type), but they also had their brains picked by my favorite telepath, animal communicator Ginny Palmieri. I'm not going to share their secrets here, but I will say that I now know I own a horse who, were he human, would have "one hand down his pants and the other would be holding a beer". I suspected as much when I saw the cigar butts and the Racing Form outside his stall door.

I also own a horse who is "sooooo interesting!" That's generally not what a horse owner wants to hear. Words like "simple", "uncomplicated", "desperately craving your approval"...those are the good words.

But on the whole, the herd seems to be doing fine, which makes me happy and validates the huge carrot investment I made last month.

If you own an animal, you already know that they have ways of reading your mind. My cat Tuft knows precisely the moment I decide I'm going to settle in in front of the fire with a book. He has to go out then, and will brook no discussion. The cockatoo, Angel, knows when I'm on the phone with someone I haven't spoken to in a while and who might think it worthwhile to call the authorities to find out why I am torturing birds in my home.

But these warm little bodies house brains that are constantly filtering information to and from us. We just tend not to listen very well. That's where nice folks like Ginny come in. I'm not saying you need to rush right out and call a psychic to find out why Fluffy ate the Tiffany pendant your new beau just gave you. I'm not saying you really want to know the answer to "how does Lucifer feel about the new kitty brother I gave him?" I'm just saying, don't sell the little buggers short. They'll tell you everything if you just stop talking for a minute and give them a chance.

There are a few books available that will give you instructions on communicating with the animals yourself. I've tried that. Apparently I don't speak any foreign languages. So I will continue to rely on periodic check-ins with Ginny to make sure the herd and I are all on the same side of the barn, so to speak.

And yes, Pokey, you are a very good girl!

Far Hills and Faraway Ponies

I'd fully intended to send this video to Facebook, but I realized it would draw more comments from more folks who believe ponies live long enough to raise several generations of children and that no horse should ever be sold, and I wouldn't have had the chance to really put in my two dollars' (inflation, you know) worth.

Chico is obviously an amazing pony, and this video was made in part as a farewell memory for his young owner and in part as a sales pitch in hopes that Chico would wind up in the hands of another child who would love him as much as Scotty has. Word has it that he did just that.

The bond shown here is amazing, and it's a wonderful commentary on what can happen when wise, horse-smart parents introduce their children appropriately to a love of animals and give them the skills to be safe and happy in their horse lives. That ponies are outgrown is just the nature of the beast. It's not sad. It's life. And I can attest from experience that though Chico undoubtedly went through an emotional period of loss after he moved on, he most likely adjusted and was just as pleased to be fawned over by yet another child...and another after that until he reaches the end of the road and his forever home.

My daughter once bought a lesson pony. The pony proved to be too small for some students and too hot for others, so after two years she made the sad decision to send him on to a new home. We picked his buyer carefully, refusing the crazies and the insipids and settling on a lovely grandmother small enough to ride the pony and loaded with grandchildren who would also love him. But the pony wasn't nearly as sad as we were. As much as he seemed bonded with us, he was a total whore for any child under the age of ten, with or without carrots. He knew instinctively that kids were going to be his life, and he was more than fine with that. He didn't even wave goodbye.

So watch the video with an eye toward helping the children in your life form the same kind of bond with whatever animals you choose. Horses are not for everyone, but the connection with animals is.


On to the Race at Far Hills!













Saturday, October 17th, was cold, rainy/snowy, and without much merit overall with the exception of the running of the annual Far Hills Steeplechase. The races held that day were as exciting as they are every year, though the slippery footing left some jockeys shutting down when they realized they couldn't win. They get points for sanity. There's no glory in a steeplechase version of Barbaro.

This race card is more than just another link in the national steeplechase chain. Begun back in the 1950's as a thank-you to local farmers from the Essex Hunt, this particular outing is hosted at Moorland Farms for the express purpose of fund-raising on behalf of the Steeplechase Cancer Center at Somerset Medical Center in New Jersey. And a fine job it does! An annual event, the Far Hills Race is a gathering of the wealthy and the insane from the Tri-State who tailgate with elan and pay big bucks for the privilege. We were delighted to luck into reserved parking this year so we could join the happy throng of some 35,000 whackadoodle race fans.

Sadly, this being our first year, we didn't get that the rules on paper are just that. Next year we will know that "no open flames" does not preclude a four-burner, propane-fired kitchen range. "No canopies" is just for giggles, I'm sure. The only restriction actually adhered to was the "nothing larger than an SUV" rule, which made maneuvering around the other parked vehicles a little easier. One van in the melee would have created a gridlock worthy of and ABC News flyover.
So is a trip to Far Hills in your future? I have already decided to keep my two spaces for next year and add as many more as I can manage so that our Homeless Race Fans' Tent City can be upgraded to the same level of style and class as this one below. The inflatable ponies eventually made their escape.















In case anyone is wondering, the winner of the high-dollar stakes race was a horse belonging to the Merck (Pharmaceutical) family, one of the rare occasions when a New Jersey horse actually won the New Jersey race. Since this meeting offers the highest purses of the entire national circuit, that's very exciting for the family and for NJ race fans.

Come next September, when your summer is winding down and you're beginning to look for ways to perk up your fall schedule, check the date for the Far Hills Race and sign up. We'll see you there!

Falling Into Winter

Isn't this cute? On my desktop, the snowflakes twinkle. That's supposed to make me feel better about the fact that it frickin' SNOWED yesterday. Snow! In October! In New Jersey! There are only a few things that make living in the most-taxed state in the union tolerable. Good weather is one of them. Snow in October is against the rules.

Anyway, it's time for a look forward and backward. A backward glance shows Pokey recovering nearly completely from her laser cancer surgery. That's the best news I could have had. I didn't ask my vet to check her when he did her shots, but his intellectual curiosity got the better of him and he had to take a peek at this rare surgical site. He was delighted with the outcome, and so am I. I explained my change of post-op routine to exclude the nasty 5-FU ointment until the dead tissue was done sloughing or she launched a new tumor, and he concurred that salting the goo away for the next re-occurrence was the best bet. Yippee!

For anyone out there considering a laser tumor removal (which is primarily for skin cancer in horses but works well for squamous cell carcinoma), know that the after care is a little more difficult than you will be led to believe, but the outcome can be excellent. Reading up on 5-FU, I learned that its major downfall is its inability to penetrate skin, so it is really only useful on the open wound resulting from the surgery. Once the wound heals (or if you can't scrape away the scabs and sloughing dead tissue) it no longer serves much purpose. At nearly $300 a tube (yeah, really), it behooves the cautious owner to use it in the most effective manner...sparingly.

So it goes with Pokey. Zip is once again sporting lameness, this time only saddled and longeing over jumps. The fun just never ends. Before REAL winter, I will ask the lovely Carol Edwards, Chiro to the Equine Stars, to give him a working over in hope that we are still dealing with the results of that locked rib.

Everyone else, including Pinky who for some reason is missing some joint action at the walk but can trot and canter perfectly well, is doing fine. Yay for doing fine!

Looking forward, my new book will be out shortly. I'm relieved, mildly excited (because there have been issues with publisher errors and I haven't seen the final proof block to be assured they've been corrected), and looking for a new project. If you have any suggestions, please let me know. Boredom leads to bad voices in my head.

This is the cover of the new book:


Don't bother trying to order it (I just know thousands of you are going to flood the website with requests), because it won't be available for a couple of weeks yet. I'll let you know. Thanks for asking.

Also looking ahead I see that tomorrow's Race at Far Hills will likely be run in the rain, snow, sleet, hurricane, tornado, or whatever other evil Nature has decided we deserve this year. Be there anyway. We will. We'll be hard to see under the tarps and blankets, but look for our Gallant Hope Farm parking area on the hillside and come say hello. We need to know we're not alone in our insanity.

To paraphrase (because I'm too lazy to open it and look at it and quote it accurately) the classy "skin" on my laptop (purchased from my fave online catalog, Despair Inc):

Madness does not always howl. Sometimes it comes as the quiet voice at the end of the day asking, "Hey! Is there room in your head for one more?"

The answer is yes.

Saved by Mylestone!

I've been a supporter of Mylestone Equine Rescue for several years, ever since a friend introduced me to their program via a benefit wine-tasting. I went for the wine. I stayed for the wonderful job founder Susankelly Thompson and her group do for the horses.

Mylestone is housed on a farm in Warren County, NJ. I was amazed to see how efficiently MER has used the land. Each horse has ample space to move around outdoors, either a shed with easy access for cover and shade at the animal's whim or a stall in the clean, airy barn, and lots of attention from staff. Privately-kept horses should have it so good!


What makes Mylestone special (apart from the obvious and intense dedication of the staff of volunteers who care for and work with the horses) is that every effort is made to rehome the animals that are capable of moving on to a forever home. But those that cannot go on are guaranteed a permanent home at MER with continued care until their time on the planet is over. That means a lot.

I won't belabor the details of the functioning of the group. Everything you might want to know is on their website. What I will add in an attempt to drive home the need is that these horses, many of which came from private owners who could no longer cope with horses in their lives for whatever reason, are all needy. They have been ill, abused, neglected, and left to suffer, though not always by the owners who sent them to MER. Though veterinary and other professional care is generally donated, the medications are not. Nor is their feed. Several are on special diets and endless doses of supportive meds to make their lives the best they can be for however long they last.


The need for volunteers and donated feed, equipment, and cash, cash, CASH is pretty much endless. As horses leave MER for new homes or for their final resting places, new ones arrive, each with its own problems and issues.

Visit the website, check the wish list. If there's something you can donate, do so. Visits are not arranged or encouraged on weekdays--the place is buzzing and volunteers are fewer during those times--but if you want to see what's going on before you send a donation, ask for an appointment and visit on a weekend. You will be as pleasantly surprised as I was, I'm sure.

Middle-Aged Horses

While we're on the subject of middle age and fearfulness, let's take a quick look at the fearless middle-aged horse. After all, middle age isn't just for humans, you know!

I said that a lot of fearfulness in riders of any age (but older, less sane riders most of all) comes from trying to ride the wrong horse. I suggested that as we grow old, our brain hairs wither and we tend to remember only the best times of our horse lives, the ones spent galloping around like lunatics, doing things our mothers didn't want us to do, making boarding farm owners old before their time. When that happens, we buy and try to ride horses that are too much for us. The result is often bodily damage (real or projected onto an internal screen) and fear.

So the middle-aged horse is a serious candidate for consideration when a middle-aged rider who might have some inky fear besmirching her heart wants to get back in the saddle after a layoff. Middle-aged horses are not their lunatic offspring. Not that there aren't Wild Willies in the "aged" group (that's over 12 in some circles, over 15 in others), but unless Big Buddy was kept in a stall his whole life, he's seen and done a lot more than his younger herd mates. Not as much scares him. Not so many squirrels in his woods (or in his head).

On the other hand, unless he's been run into the ground and is sporting a bunch of medical issues resulting from poor management, he's still got ample vim and vigor to make even the coldest heart cockles tingle with warmth. Want to go dashing through the woods bareback? He's probably a safer bet than Hooligan, who may get so excited he'll run you headlong into a tree, forgetting how much taller you are in the saddle than on the ground. Buddy will give you a run for your money, but at a slightly slower, more measured pace. Dakota, pictured here, is 18 now. You'd never guess it to look at him. Granted, he was never the most enthusiastic of horses, but in his dotage he is my number one choice for a leisurely ramble down the road. He's immune to traffic of all sorts including the kids from the neighboring high school who seem to think horses need to be honked at. He's also quite amenable to a barrel run, though his limit is three before he suggests dinner and a movie. And he'll happily pop over cross rails up to a height of four inches. I've tried raising the bar, but at five inches he stops dead and waits for me to lower the rail before he backs up and hops over.

Now, Dakota may be a little too quiet for most experienced riders. It's a matter of taste and how you choose to spend your saddle time. He's my guy for the challenge of the twisty back road with the trucks whizzing by. Leo, at 23, is my choice for everything else. Want to run? He's your boy. Want to jump a little? He'll do that too, up to about 18 inches (after which his arthritis makes him hop like a jack-in-the-box). And he'll spend all day wandering through the woods, delighting in the neighbors' kids' toys that blow freely past him and entranced by the contractor blasting foundation holes with dynamite. No fear.

Just remember that too quiet is as bad as too hot. When fear is your riding partner, you may over-compensate and opt for the least noxious horse on the sale site. A "pusher" is hard for an older, experienced rider to deal with as he may require all your energy just to get from the barn to the ring or the trail. If you're tired before you even get going, you're only trading boredom and frustration for anxiety.

Shop on!