Birdwatching From The Saddle, Along The James River

Howdy Folks,

 

Just hooking up the trailer I had to tie my hat on. Cold wind gusts hadn't lessened any since Coffee Clutch earlier in the morning. Had it gotten even more windy, and cold? Well, I'm one of those folks who, when I have a plan in mind, hate to squash it just because of a little wind. But I must admit, when a surprise gust just about tore the trailer door from my hand, I had second thoughts. For at least half a minute. Then there's the fact that Kessy was still in her on-again off-again trailer loading frame of mind and it would be a cold night sleeping in the trailer at James River State Park … if she decided she'd be off-again today.

However, it's hunting season and we can only ride here at home on Sundays, and I needed a ride. No hunting at James River State Park, a short half hour drive away, so I'd told Kessy we're going. She loaded nicely, took about two minutes, Ravishin' Robbie handed me my thermos of Folgers, baloney sandwich, carrots for Kessy, and we were off. 

No one greeted us at the Park greeting station, must have figured nobody would be coming on such a blustery day, so I put my $3 in the little yellow envelope and set out to park by the big oak in the pretty grassy lot on the edge of the forest.

Kessy and I were alone, with only the wind for company. When I opened the door for her to step out, a great gust whipped up the shavings, startling me. Not Kessy though, she stepped off like a pro. Pre-ride exercises done and saddled up, we hit the trail. The trees groaned and branches rattled as they swayed in the wind, but our first sighting was only a few hundred feet into the woods. A Hairy Woodpecker busily tore at a dead limb, tossing chips into the air. We paused a second to watch the show.

Down the trail we go - "The best view in the world is between your horse's ears."

It's about a half mile through woods to the river trail, with a nice hill to navigate. Along the way we saw several Chickadees and Titmice. We entered the river trail through a canopy of brown vines and brush. The dense thicket was alive with Robins. They flew all about us setting up a delightful chatter. I stopped Kessy to watch as they bounced here and there. Mixed in with the Robins were White Throated Sparrows, Juncos and White Crowned Sparrows.

There was no escaping the wind, and as we snuck along the trail, riding among more birds than I'd seen on any ride in a long time, I wondered if the blustery day had driven them down to the brushy cover along the river. No matter, I welcomed their silly antics and lively banter. 

On both sides of the trail the thickets were alive with winged beauties. A Mockingbird sat on the trail until Kessy could almost touch it with her nose, and then it flew only to sit on a branch at eye level. For a second I looked right into its shining eye!

At one point the trail meanders through a tall field of dry reedy grass. As tall as my head. This had Kessy just a little nervous. The wind had the reeds roaring, not rustling, but she worked through it with only a few added dance steps. One of her moves would have had Derek Hough on Dancing With The Stars smiling. It did me too.

It's a flat trail along the river, in and out of tall trees, mostly Sycamore. Sometimes the trail is next to the wide river and the rapids roared above the wind. Sometimes the river can't be seen. But always today there were birds. Over the years Kessy has learned to stand quietly when I ask to look at the birds, it almost seems she's looking for them too.

She had a tough time with it though at the pond. The wind was creating tiny waves, and that worried her. A lot. She stood though and, in the pond, among the reeds and stalks I spied a Great Blue Heron, a few Diving Ducks, and I heard a Green Heron. And surprisingly some Red Winged Blackbirds. I thought they'd be gone for the winter, but there they were.

Along the way yesterday we also saw 3 Pileated Woodpeckers, several Hairy Woodpeckers, a Belted Kingfisher, lots of Goldfinches, Fox Sparrows, Cardinals, and Bluebirds. Some others I couldn't identify. Every step of the way we had birds. It was the right combination of great habitat, a great horse, riding alone – and the wind.

Ready to go home

Back at the trailer, Kessy capped a perfect day by stepping right into the trailer, on the third try. We'd been working lately on self-loading, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but yesterday, she was as perfect with her trailer manners, and her trail manners. The wind was really bad, and she truly was splendid. It's a lot for a horse to ride a strange place, alone in high wind and stay solid, calm. And she did, even stood still whenever I wanted to search the blowing brush for hiding birds. What a day, great birding and a terrific partner. Thanks Kessy for your friendship!

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

Grandpop and Sportsmanship

Howdy Folks,

This is the Seventh in my series of Grandpop stories. I began writing about Grandpop, June 27, 2013, with what at the time I imagined what would be a standalone short story, "Perhaps I've Just Lived Too Long." You can read that story (and find links to go on) (HERE)   Folks said they like visiting with Grandpop, so I wrote more. Frankly, I enjoy him too. I hope you enjoy today's visit with Grandpop.

"Grandpop and Sportsmanship"

 

"Hey good to see ya, young fella," Grandpop stopped brushing ol' Blue, and waved me into the barn. I was surprised to find him in the barn. Usually on Sunday afternoons he'd take in a football game or two relaxing in his recliner drinking coffee and helping the coaches by talking to the TV screen. I'd long ago lost any serious interest in the NFL, but had to admit watching with Grandpop was still a treat I looked forward to every now and then. Thinking about it, those Sunday game gatherings had begun to dwindle in the past few years.

Kessy, Saturday & me writing a story

"No game on today?" I paused to give ol' Blue a friendly scratching on his shoulder.

Grandpop moved to Blue's tail and brushed the full length with slow, deliberate strokes. "None that interest me. I reckon things change and it's hard for an old fella to keep up."

"How's that?"

"It just doesn't seem to be the same sport anymore. Of course they say your memory lets you remember things the way you want to, and polish those memories up a bit, but it feels like the game lost some of its dignity." Grandpop paused to examine Blue's shinny tail. ""It feels hollow now, just about winning … at any cost."

I felt him study my face, well yea I thought, winning is why they practice, and show up. He must have heard my thoughts; he's good at that, because he answered me.

"Oh yea, a team's got to win, but where'd the sportsmanship go? All you hear about now is concussions, players switching teams for more money, and this thing a little while back about coaches paying players to take out the other team's players. That's not sportsmanship. It's not fun to listen to, and I think it's a foolish example for our young'ins."

"Don't you think it's more about the news folks just wanting to hype stories?" 

"They couldn't hype 'em if it wasn't going on. What I worry about is the steady drift to winning at all cost is so acceptable. I remember the first time I thought uh-oh, back a good while when an NFL coach told a reporter on the sideline after a game he does not go shake hands with the opposing coach, he wants to beat him, not be his friend. That's not sportsmanship, I thought way back then already."

"I think I remember that." I said.

"It's a busier, faster world now than we could have ever imagined and it's easy to focus on the outcome more than the journey. I worry that the young'ins might miss learning that. True sportsman has a way of teaching respect, honor and dignity. Sometimes it's good to loose, builds character. Today I think it's hard for youngsters to find good role models."

Grandpop led Blue out to his paddock and stood, leaning on him soaking up the warm sun. "We used to say 'never let the end justify the means.' Now even our government leaders seem to have turned that on its head and the teachings and beliefs seem to be, win at any cost, and the means don't matter. A body can lie, break the rules, even cheat - if they win, well then by golly it's just dandy. I'm not foolish enough to think there wasn't always some of that, but it wasn't seen as a good thing. Used to be if a fella got caught lying or cheating it ruined him, today it's excused, almost celebrated as courage, because you've got to win … Today it seems popular to insist the end justifies the means. I don't think that's good sportsmanship. I think it's backwards. And I don't think it's good for our young'ins to grow up thinking it's okay. But I'm just an ol' cowboy."

He slid the halter off ol' Blue and we moseyed to the porch for some more talk and a pot of hot black coffee. We never did watch a game that day.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

What About Horses' Emotions

Howdy Folks,
 

I'm often asked about how I feel about horses' emotions. Surely horses don't have emotions on the same level as humans, some folks say. Some say to try to project human emotions on horses is folly, foolish. Some say we simply want to believe horses feel emotions like we do. Some folks don't even think about it.

Kessy edits my stories with love.

Are emotions the same as caring, connection, bonding, or even the ever popular, joining up? I believe you can't have any of those without emotions, and we all know our horses care about us, bond with us, and yes, join up.

What about respect? Some will ask. To gain respect from a horse we must first give it. Isn't that the same as with our human peers?

What about love? Can they love us the same as a person can love us? What would be so wrong about accepting and believing that a horse can love a human as deeply as they can another horse, or we can another human? When I'm gone a few days doing clinics, Kessy nickers and loves on me when I get back something silly. Robbie says if I'm gone more than 2 days she even gets pouty. When I get home I want to get right into the house to Robbie as soon as I park our geriatric Tahoe, but Kessy will carry on so much I often need to hug her first! Then she'll follow right to the back door!

For a long time Kessy had a fear of circles, from things in her past. So for a long time, months, we did this important spine limbering exercise in a straight line. Now she has the confidence to walk slowly in any size circle.

Oh their just acting that way because they're trained, or looking to you for food, or any other of the many standard explanations of how horses act and react. When I watch Lesson and Therapy Horses gently teach and heal, I see a blanket of love and emotion guiding every step.

Emotions play a huge part relationships. Any relationship. Human to human or horse to human. In relationships with my horses over the years I not only considered what they required when learning new things, but also their emotions while learning too. In the time I spent rehabilitating horses I noticed a wide range of emotions – from fear, to mistrust, to need, to shut down, too confusion, to seeking advice and leadership. Rebuilding their confidence meant understanding their emotions, on a level equal to mine. And it meant seeing them as equals. I really dislike the, "You gotta be in charge" theme. If we're equals we can achieve cooperation, support, loyalty and love. In true partnerships, partners do things for each other because they want to, not because they're "trained" to … I see Kessy as my equal.

Kessy stands like a statue for me to mount & dismount. It is difficult for me to dismount but her understanding of that, and our emotional bond, guides her in helping me.

I'm not a trainer but in all things, I believe love, honor, respect and understanding and feeling emotions make any relationship strong, lasting and sterling. Including a relationship with horses. Sure training is important too, of course. But I submit understanding and honoring the emotions of the horse makes training smoother and more lasting. And actually I'm not even fond of the word, "training." I like education or teaching better.

We'd been out fooling with some exercises, and I had to sit down. Whenever I do this Kessy stands with me. What's more, she'll offer her neck for me to use to pull myself up.

In my heart I believe if a lot more folks projected human emotions on horses … A lot fewer horses would suffer.

Just lovin'

So go ahead, project your emotions onto your horse, and remember to let hers, touch your heart, and guide your hand as you teach, and learn together, too.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry

Veterans Day Ride With Grandpop

Howdy Folks,

This is the Sixth in my series of Grandpop stories. I began writing about Grandpop, June 27, 2013, with what at the time I imagined what would be a stand alone short story, "Perhaps I've Just Lived Too Long." You can read that story (and find links to go on) (HERE)   Folks said they enjoy visiting with Grandpop, so I wrote more. Frankly, I enjoy him too. I hope you enjoy this Veterans Day Ride with Grandpop. 

Veterans Day Ride With Grandpop 

I'd missed a few years of Grandpop's Veteran Day rides. Those years when I was all self-assured that whatever I had to do was the most important thing. I'm sorry I missed those years. I'm happy Grandpop waited for me to come to my senses. I'm not sure when he started his daylong treks to the highest point on the ranch, but as long as I could remember, each Veterans Day, he saddled up and rode to the knob of, Rattle Tree Mountain. The view there, among trees misshapen by fierce winter winds of the altitude, went on as far as the eye could reach. And was worth every minute of the three hour ride to get there.

Everyone was welcome to ride along, and some years, back when I was young, we had quiet the caravan of friends, relatives and sometimes strangers. For a few years, after the local newspaper wrote a story about it, folks pitched in a few dollars each to be part of it. Grandpop always gave the money to the local VFW.

We rode pretty much in silence today. Three days ago Grandpop gotten word that his friend Buck Clayton had passed on. They'd served in Germany together, part of what became known as the Battle of the Bulge. I remembered meeting Buck a few times. Once he even joined Grandpop on his Veterans Day ride. I missed that one. "He was a fine man, loved his family, God and country," Grandpop said when he got the news about Buck. "Stood strong to defend them all." He and Grandpop had been together for three of the four years, "over there," as he puts it.

It was just Grandpop and me today, riding through the flats, on up to the foothills and then along the narrow ridge to the bald knob. Some of the mares had followed us for a while down on the flats, their steamy breath floating up and away on the cold air. Grandpop had tied his hat down with a red scarf, covering his ears, neck and most of his face, but I could feel his smile when the lead mare trotted beside his horse stride for stride.

We sat our horses at the edge of the crest on the high knob, wind whipping around us, doing its best to blow us away. Even in the bitter cold it was easy to get lost in the majesty of the view, the place, the meaning. "I suppose God gave us this view, so we could come up here every now and then, and realize how important and beautiful life is. How precious and fragile it is." I remember him telling us as children one Veterans Day decades earlier. I never truly got his meaning until today. Looking out over that splendid vastness sitting beside him on my horse.

I looked at the little flags in his saddlebag and realized for the first time, he was talking about the precious lives so many risk – and loose, assuring that others can live theirs, free and safe.

Grandpop stepped down and planted three small flags in the garden of tattered, faded flags. One for each of his friends, and friends of friends, who had served – and passed since last Veterans Day. For years now Grandpop has been planting flags in the garden honoring servicemen and women. At first it was just a few, close friends he'd known, then as word spread, and especially after the newspaper story, there were many more little tiny flags to raise on the windy mountain knob's flag garden. I heard one year there were 50 riders to the garden, carrying 200 flags. Some mailed flags from as far away as Pennsylvania. Sadly that was one of the years I thought I was too busy to make the journey. In recent years fewer people sent flags. 

I held our horses as Grandpop struggled to push the short stakes in the hard ground. His hands shook, his shoulders quivered as he unfurled each flag. The ride had become tough for him in recent years. I wanted to help, or plant the flags for him, but he'd not hear of it. He spent an hour on his hands and knees straightening the faded, tattered flags, as best he could, then stepped back, stood tall and saluted. He held his salute, his shoulders rocked, tears streamed down his face, and mine.

I rode down the trail ahead of him, as is his way. He always stayed behind a while, a few private moments. I would wait for him at the old camp a mile down the mountain. I paused, turned my horse to look back up to him. Sitting his horse at the edge of the knob, looking out over the land, he made a striking silhouette. My eyes wetted again. Without words, I promised I'd tend his garden … when the day came.

Gitty Up ~ Dutch Henry  

To read the 7th Grandpop story "Christmas and Grandpop" - CLICK HERE