Bandon and I hadn't worked in the arena since December. It's low lying on our property and took the brunt of run-off water from the great monsoons. I tacked him up while neighbors to the barn (whom we share mutual disdain with) shot pellet guns a few feet outside of the pasture fence.
Bandon had been jumpy and kicked hard a few times while I saddled him, I figured the pellet guns were irritating him as much as they were succeeding to irritate me.
Down in the arena, he was fidgety under saddle and had a hard time focusing on any of the patterns I was asking of him. Trotting he began tossing his head so I put him back to work on a serpentine.
The arena shares it's property line on 2 sides with neighbors. One of those arena neighbors let out a dog, all I saw was a black flash about 70 pounds in size, coming straight for the fence. As far as I can remember, the dog didn't make a sound.
Bandon also saw the flash of dog and that was enough to send him forward with big strides putting us within reach of the arena fence faster than he had planned. He hollowed out his back and put his head straight up as his body veered left. I hung on as he ran half the arena before turning to head away from the dog again and I could see my neighbors running through the woods to grab the dog that was running the fence line (the mesh fence keeping the dog from coming in with us). My brain weighed options really quickly, how fast could they catch that dog so I could calm Bandon and keep us both from getting hurt in his panic?
A quick glance towards them and it didn't look like they were going to get their hands on the dog anytime soon, so I planned to emergency dismount. Bandon must have agreed because before I could get a chance to, he threw a nice big buck mid-stride of his run and off I came.
I heard a quote the other night, I'm sorry at the moment I don't remember who said it, but it was, "the ground I cling to is far more fragile than myself". Right then that quote came back to me, originally I had heard it thinking it was really lovely and all I could think in that second was, "bullshit". The ground vs me = ground wins. Every time.
I caught Bandon and put him on the longe line. By then the dog was safely back in the house but Whisper, having seen the whole thing from up on the hill in her stall, started to call to Bandon. Poor baby horse had had enough. He was scared. His herd wasn't near and was calling him. I was spitting dirt and obviously more fragile than ground, what's a horse to do?!
Using the longe line we worked back to a point where he at least acknowledged I existed even when Whisper called, though he found walking in those times nearly impossible. Once I had verbal walk, trot, whoa in each direction, we walked slowly back up to the barn, stopping often and doing ground exercises like backing when he began to feel like I wasn't there any longer.
Untacking, Bandon had another meltdown. It took a long time to get his head where I could reach it to get his bridle off and then he fought me hard for his head instead of letting me easily slip the halter back on.
This morning, I can see why. Through the last few days of glorious sunshine, Bandon's soft pink scarred skin on his poll was now brick red with raw areas. I know my tack didn't do it to him, but I'm sure that the bridle and later the longe line across his poll didn't feel good at all on the fresh sunburned skin.
This realization made me feel completely sheepish at just how much faith I had lost in him in such a short time last night. A huge reminder to never correct a horse if you don't understand the whole story, I don't know how much the pain at his poll contributed to our worst ride, it sure didn't help. Thankfully all I did was continue to work him at the time and no long-term training or trust damage should come of it.
I do wish I'd seen the burns last night before I spent 20 minutes raking out the manure pile going over in my head the one billion things that were going wrong that felt out of my control and led me to come in proclaiming to my husband that I was an idiot, had no business having horses, and should have been a clever enough woman to know I was better off on a lesson horse at a nice little show stable.
This to the man who had spent his two days off working on my arena fence. Good thing he still thinks I'm charming, dirt covered, bruised up, and all.
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