Although MSB and I are moving closer to getting a digital camera, the one I took to the event was a fast-speed disposable. My initial plan was to take it to Walgreens, laden with perfect shots of horses in action, and have a disc made so I could upload the pics here. It was a great idea, until I realized how far from the action I’d be sitting (not to mention that the camera range was fourteen feet, and this disposable didn’t come complete with a zoom lens).

Next best thing was my Blackberry camera. At least that way I didn’t have to pay to develop a bunch o’ bad shots. That camera does have a zoom lens, although it doesn’t zoom very well or very close to the subject. It’s shutter speed stinks–if digital cameras have a shutter speed. (Anyone know?) So the shots I got are rough. Functional, but rough.

Regardless of the picture quality, the morning was fantastic. My first contact was a horse trainer, and after picking his brain for about twenty minutes, I was introduced to the grandparents of the sport in the Brazos Valley–Olan and Peggy Hightower. Olan was competing, and though I got to talk with him for a short while, I spent the bulk of the competition under Peggy’s wing. Peggy and Olan have been in the business for over fifty years, and the first thing I learned from them is that the “young ‘uns don’t do it right.”

Basically, the “new” way of training the horses to cut out a calf from the herd is through repetition. Makes sense to a certain extent, but if the horse is never expected to use his head while working, his movements become mechanical. If Olan and Peggy had their way, every cutting horse would first be a working ranch horse. That would eliminate the arena setting and require the horse to figure out what he’s supposed to do. A bit of teaching and repetition are required, but according to the Hightowers, the horse keeps his head in the game longer and pays closer attention to the movements of the calf.

A horse that’s trained exclusively for cutting goes through daily repetitions, then is released into the pasture. A working cattle horse doesn’t have that luxury–he works, and because of that, he’s generally healthier and smarter than trainees.

What they said made sense, and it gave me an idea for the conflict in Southern Challenge. I am nowhere near finished with my research, nowhere near comfortable enough with the subject to write any further than I have in the manuscript. But with every little tidbit I glean, the story develops and becomes sharper. Which is more than I can say for my pictures.

Today, it is a thriving sports and cultural center. I remember when it was a small one or two street village sitting on a creek with a trout hatchery. In 1962, I laid out of Baylor at the age of 21 to run for the state legislature to represent my home town. A buddy of mine rented a cabin in Ruidoso where we planned the political campaign. The village was small, quaint and knee-deep in snow.

In those days, it was developing its Ruidoso Downs for horse racing, and over the decades to follow, it successfully created the richest quarter horse races in the world, casino gaming, and luxurious mountain golf courses. It was not until 1997, when Jackie Bancroft Spencer Morgan (“Jackie”) completed the Spencer Theater for the performing arts that it became a cultural center for the performing arts — http://www.spencertheater.com

I write of Jackie and the theater in my book:  “Observer: The Ronnie Lee and Jackie Bancroft Spencer Morgan Story, a tale of people, greed, envy, manipulation  — even crime”.

So last year over the spring/summer Ginger ended up with this nasty ass eye infection which turned into a HUGE facial abscess even after a dose of antibiotics and it took over 4 months of treatment to clear up….now its back again… same eye…its not as bad *yet* and I hope it doesn’t get that bad but damn what the hell?  I don’t know if it’s the dust from hay or wtf… so now I have started back on the eye wash routine and antibac gel…eye wipes and all that crap  

I have never had a horse have a re-occurring eye infection like this…

*Also* she is back on her obsessive streak again… she won’t let the others horses near me and has started biting and kicking the new horse … its not my horse so I’m *ultra* paranoid she will do the poor thing damage this new horse that the boarder put in with mine is SOOOOOO skinny! Ginger could snap her in two….

Our first stop — after lunch and a rather impromptu tour of a few of Creede’s hotspots — was the home of a lovely woman who has a Quarter Horse gelding…

And a young wild burro that she recently adopted from the BLM. (For those of you who are wondering, a burro and a donkey are the same thing… “burro” is the Spanish word. Some people make the distinction between “burros” which were initially introduced to the Americas by the Spanish, and “donkeys” which are more modern imports. I tend to use “burro” because that’s the term more commonly used for wild donkeys. But they’re the same animal, Equus asinus.) This burro was hilarious. Hilarious times eleventy. She hadn’t been in this home for long but she basically was running the whole joint, and had trained the gelding to do her bidding. I lol’ed. So did the burro.

One of her cutest features — of which there are many — is that her body is a typical burro-grey, but the backs of her ears are a rich, sandy brown.

The owner’s house was beautiful too, with lots of vintage decor in the absolutely gorgeous barn, and this great windmill behind the house. I played around with my camera’s black and white setting for the first time. (This has had additional Photoshopping, too.)

Our next stop was another client’s house, where we didn’t work with horses because the wind was howling and it looked like a storm was rolling in. Our wonderful host invited us indoors and fed us delicious ginger tea while we talked, and then she took us to meet her animals. In addition to the overwhelming adorableness of the barn kittens, there was also a pair of Westies…

…a miniature horse called Mini Cooper (best. name. ever.)…

…and a beautiful palomino Quarter Horse.

I wished I’d had better opportunities to take pictures there, particularly of this guy, but the weather was still pretty foul and we needed to get back to Pagosa. We said our goodbyes and started the drive back. Just over Wolf Creek Pass, there’s a parking area with an overlook affording a view back toward Pagosa Springs; I always like to stop there and get a photo of the day’s view.

One of the things that makes those things we that love to do more special than other things is the feeling it gives us when we do it.  There was an atmosphere around trail riding and horses in general that I lived for.  A cowboy mentality.  In a freedom loving,  gritty, and old,  but a good way.  Many wildlife/nature photographers wear camouflage while they are in the field.  That can be a very effective technique for being somewhat invisible to your subjects.  The truth is most photographers wear it when they are shooting pictures from the car.  They also wear it while they are simply walking in the wide open spaces.  They wear it for a day of landscape photography.  I used to make fun of those facts.  Then I realized there were times when I worked with horses that I wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat.  I did not have to dress in that garb.  Being a cowboy is a state of mind, same as being a nature photographer.  It is not only about riding a horse just like nature photography is not just about making pictures.  We do the things we do and dress the way we do, to make our experiences full and rich.  That is a good thing not a bad one.

I began my horse days while I lived in Colorado and most definitely knew my share of real working cowboys.  Cowboy philosophy and humor is an American treasure.

It is easier to get an actor to be a cowboy than to get a cowboy to be an actor.

Don’t squat with your spurs on.

Never slap a man who’s chewing tobacco.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop digging.

It’s the bulls and blood, dust and mud, and the roar of a Sunday crowd.

Nature gave us all something to fall back on, and sooner or later we all land flat on it. From my cowboy friends and the cowboy that still lives inside of me, we all thank you.

Today’s photos have nothing to do with cowboy life, but everything to do with nature photography.

Bumble Bee & Chicory

Twelve-spotted Skimmer

There’s power in simplicity.  In this case more flowers would make for a weaker image.

Teamwork.  Canada Geese.

Red-tailed Hawk hunting from a sign.

Smoky Mt. waterfall, Tennessee

Phlox & dew.

I rode barrels when I was much younger.  MUCH younger.  As in before I hit double digits.  So needless to say it has been a while since I have ridden the barrels course.  I tried to persuade her that it would be more fun to just ride around.  After all, this was only the second time I had been on a horse in several years.  But when another horse began to ride the course, that was all she could take.

Barrels are Sunny’s calling.  That is where her heart was.  I gave in, and let her go…hoping I wasn’t going to end up in the dirt.  She took good care of me and I remembered how much fun it was.  We rode barrels several times that day.  Sunny was a joy to ride.  She was easy going and eager to please.  I enjoyed her very much.

The next horse however…not so much.  Cash was another Quarter Horse and around 20 years old.  She had earned her retirement.  Or rather she believed she had.  She was a comical one.  She had been a successful barrel racer out of Dash for Cash.  As we were saddling her for the lesson, she demanded the bit.  I have never seen a horse demand to be given the bit like she did.  She opened her mouth wide and went for it.  It was  quite humorous.  She was also used to giving lessons to young children.  She was content to plod along, but ask her to trot?  How dare you!  The trick to getting her to move faster was to carry a stick.  And she was very indignant about the thought.  After riding for an hour, she decided she was done.  She just stopped and that was it.  She looked back at me with this look that read, “You can get off now.”  I conceded.  Yes.  We were done for the day. 

Cash was a sweet horse.  I might be tempted to agree she had earned her retirement.  Even at twenty, she still had some spunk.  Anyone can appreciate that!

World famous trainer Lynn Palm on What About Lark

Sand flying. The sound of approaching surf almost drowning the muffled staccato of hooves-on-beach. Bareback and bridleless, your hands buried in your horse’s mane, sun on your skin and wind in your hair–who HASN’T indulged in this riding fantasy?

Although your geographic location may indeed identify surf and beach as purely fantastic, a bridleless romp on horseback that is all about fun and freedom and not at all about hold-on-and-pray-for-your-dear-life is completely within the realm of reality. It all comes down to a little from you (that is, your body control and balance) and a whole lot from that thousand-plus-pound horse of yours (his body control and balance).

World famous horse trainer Lynn Palm (winner of 34 World and Reserve World Championships, and four “Superhorse” titles, among others) maintains that “collection” is the key to getting your horse to be light, balanced, and willing, and ready to take on any riding challenge with you on board. This isn’t just about a headset–this is about changing your horse’s way of going incrementally, and through TOTALLY doable exercises.

Too many of us engage in the push-pull, “kick the horse into the bridle” while sawing his nose down, mistakenly thinking that the result is at all desirable or ideal for the horse. This usually isn’t our fault, as until now collection has been misinterpreted, poorly defined, and badly taught at all levels and in all disciplines. Lynn is striving to change all that through her clinics (catch her at Equine Affaire in Ohio, April 7-10, 2011) and her latest book THE RIDER’S GUIDE TO REAL COLLECTION…on sale this month at the TSB bookstore (along with other great horse training titles–check ‘em out HERE).

Lynn performed bridleless at the 2010 World Equestrian Games in Lexington, Kentucky, on her gorgeous stallion Rugged Painted Lark:

Lilly's Mound in an early Winter morning at Flying Hat Ranch, Texas, 2011 (click to enlarge)

In the far background are the Twin Mountains of north Erath County, Texas, 1,400 feet. Ducks swim and feed upon and beneath the pond in the middle of the photograph even in this cold weather.  The gate opens into the arena pasture.  The small mound with cedar posts upon it, to the far, far left in the photograph (you may have to enlarge), is Lilly’s Mound, 1,065 feet.  The mound is small and does not stand out in the photograph — in fact, hardly noticeable — , but it is a meaningful part of this good earth to me and Brenda and Star.

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But thanks to the valiant efforts of a good Samaritan, five horses were rescued from the blaze that began in at the El Sueno Ranch, 19890 SW 180th Street sometime before 2 a.m., according to Miami-Dade Fire-Rescue Capt. Eric Baum.

[worldnow id=5512953 width=385 height=288 type=video]

The owner of the burned Quarter Horses, Robert Chavez, was asleep in an apartment he shares with his mother that is attached to the barn.

Neighbor Jose Fernandez, heard sounds he recognized as panicked animals while he was watching television.

“I heard screaming and the peacocks were making noise,” Fernandez told CBS4′s Peter D’Oench. “ And I thought it might be a fire …”

Fernandez rushed next door on his ATV, and woke Chavez and began pulling some of the terrified animals to safety.

The four that died were trapped too far inside the inferno to save.

Chavez is devastated.

“My horses were the best but it’s unfortunate. I couldn’t get to them. I mean (pause, looking down and sighing) I couldn’t do nothing,” he said.

The charred remains of his beloved horses and some chickens still lay beneath the still steaming rubble of the barn.

“It was so big and so fast, I could do nothing but save the animals and the people. That’s what I did,” Fernandez said.

Chavez said while insurance will cover the cost of replacing the barn, nothing can replace his horses.

“It was chaos. It was an inferno,” he said. “It breaks my heart. These horses were right in the middle. They were trapped… my horses were the best but it’s unfortunate I couldn’t get to them … I mean, I couldn’t do nothing,”

So far an investigation has revealed the fire started in the tack room where saddles and other supplies are kept.

Pigeons flying towards a new year above the Santa Fe plaza.

We make resolutions and there’s nothing wrong in doing so.  We plan to do better, give more and finish the big chores we have had on our list for months, maybe even curtail or give up our vices.  Well, maybe not completely give them up, but back off bad habits.

I work with students, horses and the land.  I work in order to live, not live in order to work.  That’s a big, big difference.  Working with students this last year has been more rewarding than ever before in my professional career.  I attribute that to my nearing retirement and wanting to give what I think is of value to the student before I put the chalk in the tray and walk away.  Time is fleeting and I don’t have time to cover all the points, just the most significant.  So, for this next year, I resolve to cut the excess from the lectures and discussions and get right to the core: finding your voice, writing down your voice and tending to your own garden (Voltaire, Gilgamesh, Trilling).

For my life with horses, it’s a sadder year coming.  We are selling Sweet Hija who is pregnant with a female and Shiners Fannin Peppy, the first foal out of Sweet Hija.  Brenda and I will be left with our two paints, Star and Lilly, both having their share of health problems these days.  In January, we are going to Oklahoma City for the Mixed Winter Sale at Heritage Place.  Market forces beyond my control have cut through our ranch operations with a vengeance and the cost of horse breeding and market conditions force my hand.  What Brenda and I are trying to do, in taking Hija and Fanny to the sale in Oklahoma, is to put these fine horses in the best sale around so that they will have good homes or ranches to live out their days.  So, for this next year, I resolve to focus on Star and Lilly, build some good, strong pens in the Pecan Tree Pasture for their safety.  I resolve not to think too much about our loss of Hija and Fanny and the little one — difficult to push that resolution through next year, I guarantee.

And, finally with the land, I resolve to set up brush piles for the little critters, deer and birds about the place, not shredding every single bush like some of my neighbors.  Further, I want to learn the name of every tree species on Flying Hat Ranch, or at least make a major dent in nomenclature.  I will also continue to plant native grasses about the pastures.

The eve of 2011 is here.  I toast to love, health and fortune to be found among horses and land, family and students — yours as well as mine.

Sweet Hija at full gallop in winter snow (2010).

Fanny strutting in the grove with Shiney (summer 2009).

Shiney galloping to the corral during winter. No fear of the sun disappearing here.

A holiday greeting…

The sun in the northern hemisphere is at its lowest points this time of the year.  I do not think ancient and prehistoric people feared the sun would continue to sink towards the south and disappear forever — at least in southern latitudes of the northern hemisphere.  There was and is sufficient overlap of folk knowledge and tribal elder history to instruct the young and anxious that nature’s cycle continues her circle of cold to warm to hot, hot to warm to cold.

Christmas Eve and Day are here.  I wish each of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

* * *

Update on Lilly and Star…

Lilly, our oldest mare, is holding her own at 25 years of age.  She moves between the Well House Corral and the pasture, indicating a good level of energy and health.  Her feed consists of all the alfalfa she wants, Equine Senior Purina grain and 1 – 2 grams of bute (painkiller for horses) a day.  To husband animals rewards the steward: nickers and whinnies of recognition and impatience, warmth of animal in cold weather, riding for fun (both rider and horse can enjoy if accomplished properly) and work, and the sheer companionship and friendship of the horse.  One of my pleasures of having horses is hiking in the woods and having Star follow me like a hiking friend.  Star will go up and down creek bank, push aside brush to continue the hike and rest with me beside a fallen log.  If I wish to walk alone, I have to close the gate to the woods.  Most of the time, I want him with me.

Star is confined to the first corral.  He is overweight and feed intake must be limited.  He has all the coastal bermuda hay he can eat and some painkiller for his front legs.  His confinement lasts one week.  I have had to separate him from Lilly since she has alfalfa, he must have coastal.  Star is not pleased, but he adjusts.

* * *

A field post about bird songs on winter mornings…

December 16, 2010, 7:05 a.m.

Within the last two weeks I have noted birds about the barn and stables sing profusely only in the morning during the winter and are relatively quiet for the rest of the day.  I have not spent the day about the barn and stables to confirm unequivocally this observation (I’ll probably regret having brought this up in the first place), but it seems a sound observation.  During the day when I do chores and in the evening when I feed the horses and spend a hour or so in the barn area, I hear no birds or few birds.  In the morning, birds chatter and tweet, but do not break into long melodious fugues.

Our small ranch is located in North Erath County, Texas, Lat 32.43 N, Long -98.36 W, elev. 1,086 ft. Turkey Creek Quad.  Mesquite trees, live oak trees, elm and underbrush comprise the habitat for birds.

Among singing birds I see in the morning are redbird (just tweets), titmouse, chickadee, wrentit, wren, red-headed woodpecker, white-crowned sparrow, house sparrow, dove and a couple of other species I have yet to identify.  They browse in trees, on the ground and in the underbrush.  If I remain motionless in the corral after disturbing them, they resume their chattering and calls in a few minutes.  When the sun reaches a point in the sky at approximately 10:00 a.m. or so, songs and calls diminish.  I see birds for the remainder of the day, though not quite as frequent as the first two or three hours in the morning.  I hear during the day the quacks of ducks on stock ponds and crows on the fly.

7:35 a.m.

I have returned from the barn and stable area and this post is taking a curious turn.

A cold front moved in last night and the temperature is 40 deg. F.  The sun is not shining and clouds completely obscure the sky.  On point, birds are quiet, not even a peep, casting a different observation and bringing to light variables I had not considered: temperature, sunshine, clouds.

With the temperature in the 40s and no sunshine, I hear no birds.

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What races offer the most bang for one’s buck?

I’ve talked a lot in the past about the efficiency of markets — both financial and betting — and how, with more and more information now readily available to investors, it’s gotten even harder to turn a wagering profit.As proof of this, I recently broke down my Win Factor Report data by breed. I was interested to see whether harness racing, with less handicapping material published on the subject (or at least less material that has been widely circulated), offered better value than thoroughbred horse racing, which, of course, has been covered more often than Madonna… songs.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with my work, i.e. the overwhelming majority, my Win Factor Report is simply a computerized fair odds line that I use when I handicap. In addition to being very effective at isolating good betting races, it has also produced a positive ROI under certain circumstances.

But before we look at the wagering statistics for different breeds, let’s first examine the overall numbers for horses meeting the following criteria (from a variety of qualifying races run from Jan. 1, 2009 to July 30, 2010) …

To continue reading, click HERE.

This morning (Sunday) I’m doing something I don’t usually get to do: I’m watching the series of shows that make up the “Equestrian Nation” segment of RFD-TV. Everything about horses–breeds, care, training, competitions, related products. RFD-TV, not available to everyone, can be immensely dull with crop talk and cattle auctions, and some of their evening programs consists of shows almost as old as I am (Hee-Haw, for instance). But it’s still one of my favorite channels. Maybe it’s nostalgia; maybe I’m old. I don’t know, but other than the Food Network, sporting events, and some shows on other channels, there isn’t much on TV for me anymore. I’m not interested in keeping up with the Kardashians, I don’t particularly care what happens with Kendra. The real housewives of whatever city don’t strike me as real at all, and the huge variety of shows where women behave badly leaves me cold. My stars. What young American women find entertaining–I can’t find the words. What worries me–and I’ll get back on topic in a sec–is that the young ladies watching these will believe they’re “real life,” and such behavior is not only okay, but expected.

Then, again, I wonder when I turned into my mother–which leads me to wonder whether that really is a bad thing.

Oh well. Back to it.

Perhaps it’s cliche, but I have always wanted horses. Always. I can’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t green with envy over friends who were blessed enough to ride on a regular basis. Even today, I rubber-neck at every horse-dotted pasture and burn with envy whenever I see a trailer hauling these wonderful creatures from one event to another. I don’t care what it is: high-brown Eastern show jumping or down-and-dirty bronc busting, I love horses and equine events. Although I wish it had been covered more completely, my favorite viewing experience for the entire year was the World Equestrian Games.

Today’s favorite was the Cutting Horse Futurity. This event includes horse (usually a Quarter horse), rider, and small herd of calves. The object is for the horse and rider to cut one calf from the herd and keep it separate. Unlike many other events, this one belongs to the horse–the cowboy just picks out the calf and holds on for the ride.

And what a ride it is. The horse isn’t racing, with mane and tail flying behind him, he isn’t rearing up or doing tricks. He’s studying the eyes of the calf in front of him, anticipating the moves, twisting on his back legs at just the right moment to thwart the calf’s efforts to rejoin the group. Haunches down, front legs prancing, the horse bounces left or right, dashes this way or that, and succeeds at his task.

One bay gelding was a thrill to watch. You could see in his eyes how much he enjoyed his job. He lowered his front legs to get eye-level with the heifer and dared it to move. “Com’on, com’on. I gotcha. Don’t matter where you go, you ain’t gettin’ far.” And the calf didn’t.

Long after the buzzer sounded, the bay continued to block the calf from the herd. Now that’s dedication!

I’d love to be part of that team, to sit on the animal’s back while he does his thing, to feel his muscles tighten in anticipation, to feel the spring of his leap while he blocks his prey.

Then again, I’d love to be on any horse doing just about anything. I envy people who can look out their windows and see their animals graze, or head to their tack rooms for saddle and reins to gear up their mount for the day. Yep, I’m jealous. Rural green.

First, Blu has dogs and horses, even a dog that cannot hear, but watches for hand commands and other para-linguistic signs from Blu.  His horses compete in shows all over the Southwest, and early in his horse career, Blu had two world champion quarter horses.  That was in the 1980s.

Nowadays, the creatures of Dusty Blu include an armadillo, coyote, raccoon and cats.

The armadillo was brought up to the stables by his dogs several years ago.  It was a baby armadillo and the little guy was carried gently in the mouth of his Blue Heeler, placed upon the ground in front of Blu and his workers, as if, “Here’s a little guy that needs help.  Take care of him.”  They put him in a stall since he was small and let him grow and eat dog chow.  After the armadillo grew to a juvenile, Blu let him or her out, but the armadillo stayed about the corrals, never venturing far, and tunneled into alfalfa haystacks to sleep during the day and roam at night.  The dogs consider him one of them and let the armadillo browse and eat with them at supper time.

The dogs brought a baby coyote to the stables, like the armadillo, and laid him down gently.  The dogs seem to know rescue quite well.  Blu fed the coyote pup and neutered him when he grew of age.  Wiley is the coyote’s name and he attends the ranch, never venturing far from his home he knew as a pup.  The dogs consider him one of them and let Wiley alone.  At times, he howls, but not out of loneliness.

A raccoon habits the place and washes his food in pools of water.  The creatures of Dusty Blu seem content.  Within the past few days, Blu tells me that an unusual cat, calico and tabby combined with two different-colored eyes, meandered into the mix.  A kit of small size, Blu will take him to the vet for neutering and care.  Nurture surrounds the kit and the void disappears.  When Blu told me today of these things, I laughed at the complex of animals with him and how his horses tolerate the menagerie.

Deep down, past laughter, I looked at Blu as he walked away to teach.  He’s a tall man and dresses western all of the time.  I saw wings and his hat was rimmed in gold.