Doin' It Again

This morning, I am sipping coffee from my favorite mug -- the black and coral one that was my completion award for last year's finish on Aaruba at Owhyee Canyonlands. I didn't know it then, but that was to be Aaruba's last race.


This year, I'm feeling both reflective and excited as I prepare to do more miles at Canyonlands than I did last year, though in smaller increments. Consolation isn't quite ready for her first 50, but we're going to try for 3 LD's, with a day off between each. The first two days are 30's and the last is a 25, so with luck, we'll make it an 85 mile week.

I frequently hear from other riders with Barbs, Spanish Mustangs, and similar types that while their horses may not be the speediest in the bunch, they do tend to show the same kind of self-possession and persistence that Consolation demonstrated last month during her first LD at Old Selam. This, they say, makes for excellent multi-day and long-distance mounts. A theory worth testing, if ever I heard one.

So, I'll spend today packing camp chairs and clothing, breeches and blankets, tack and toiletries, bales and beet pulp. I have saddle pads to wash, tubs of water to freeze for the ice chest (it lasts longer than the compressed-chip ice blocks you can buy at the Stinker Station), meals to prepare, and whiskey to sample. (It's a rough job, but...)

I'll take a quick ride on Consolation, just to be sure she's strong and loose and set to go with her new Easyboot Gloves. I'll run through safety checks on trailer and tack. And come nightfall, I'll sail to sleep on a wave of anticipation.
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Shot in the Dark: Wildness

Wildness,
unbridled exploration of one's own nature,
is a tendency to treasure
in horses, rivers, dreams, and men.

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Introducing Inara

Sandstorm's filly has a name.


This is Inara (in-ARRA).


Of Arabic origin, her name translates along the lines of "ray of light" or "heaven sent."


The "In...", of course, is in tribute to her sire, Insider.


I couldn't be happier with this filly.


Welcome, little Inara, to In the Night Farm. You do us proud.
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Insider Edition
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Insider Edition

In the Night Farm has four, new feet this morning. Insider's first get arrived in the early hours -- a hale and healthy Barb filly out of Sandstorm, the lovely mare in The Barb Wire's header.














Congratulations to Crystal Gray, who commissioned this breeding and has big plans for this little horse! May your hearts travel many miles together.

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Cute Couple
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Cute Couple

Insider is having a good day.

In fact, he's in for a good few months. He and Sandstorm will be sharing a paddock for the foreseeable future.

For the foreseeable future? Certainly! It may not be the usual practice these days, but I can't think of a way to keep a stallion happier than to let him have a companion. Some, like Tuetano, get along with certain geldings -- in fact, our Tuetano and Crackerjack co-exist quite nicely. Many, including Insider, are quite civil and content in the presence of a bred mare.

Like many breeders, we at In the Night Farm are taking care to avoid a surplus of unwanted foals in these tight economic times. Luckily for Insider, an individual commissioned this breeding, which will lead to our only 2009 foal. We're expecting a winner!

Heart in My Hands: Gentling the Unhandled Horse

If you've read back to my early posts on The Barb Wire blog, you know the story of how our Barb horses came to In the Night Farm. You may remember that most of our original Barbs came to us as two or three year olds that had never been touched by human hands.

By now, many of our Barbs are in various stages of training -- one is started under saddle, and another is only weeks away. But Sandstorm, the lovely mare whose photo graces our banner, remains in the early stages of gentling.

Back in the Quien Sabe days, when Sandstorm was just two (the age at which this photo was taken), her short back, long legs, and astonishing trot caught my eye. Sired by Lancelot, a small but tough and tractable stallion recovered from the wild in his early teens, Sandstorm is by far the most timid of our Barbs. Early on, I nearly despaired of ever succeeding with her because she was so reactive to even the smallest threat.

I knew, however, that we'd need to get her at least to the point of accepting hoof trimming and deworming while restrained in a squeeze chute. A week's work on touching her from a distance, using a lunge whip to scratch her withers and stroke down her legs, led to calm sessions in the squeeze chute. Travis and I rubbed her neck and sides until her trembling ceased, then desensitized her to the tug of ropes around her legs.

Two days later, still in the squeeze chute but no longer terrified, she was offering her hooves for trimming at slightest cue. It was then that I realized I had a treasure on my hands -- an intelligent and extremely sensitive horse whose trust would be hard to win, but who would do anything for me once we crossed that invisible line.

Unfortunately, a move and related lack of training facilities, followed by a year of time-consuming work with other horses, delayed Sandstorm's continued gentling until this spring. Yesterday evening, with Aaruba, Consolation, and Acey all taking the day off, I opened Sandstorm's paddock gate and drove her into the round corral. (The training compound here at In the Night Farm is set up for working with unhandled horses; that is, each paddock opens into a square compound with the round corral at its center. This arrangement enables us to run any horse into the round corral with no need for halter and lead.)

I moved Sandstorm off around the corral, admiring her gaits and dreaming of the day I'll take her down the endurance trail. Her attention riveted on me almost immediately. She obviously remembered previous training sessions in which she discovered that the easiest place to be is beside me, being touched.

I drew her in to halt facing me, then approached her slowly, shoulders relaxed and gaze soft. She quivered when I touched her shoulder, but stood her ground. Then, I lifted my other hand to stroke her neck. She leaped away, snorting and tucking her hindquarters as if chased by a dominant mare. Poor Sandstorm -- I'd been working with my more advanced horses so long that I neglected to move with the fluidity necessary to an ungentled horse, each action flowing into the next, never lifting hand from hide, stepping close, breathing deep, centered and weightless as though the two of us floated together in water or space.

I circled her back and started again, touching her first with one hand, then sliding the other palm down my own arm and under her mane. I stroked and scratched, speaking with body instead of voice, good girl, brave girl, baby girl, my girl. She stood, first trembling, then still, then calm.

But I wanted more than acceptance of my presence. I wanted Sandstorm to find real benefit in staying at my side -- not merely cessation of work, but genuine pleasure. So I searched, exploring with fingertips from chest to tailhead. At last I found it -- the itchy spot just down from her poll, the one that made her twist her neck and grimace and release the shuddering sigh of a prey animal that is safe in the will of a benevolent leader, cradled by mutual kindness and respect.

I hope to work with Sandstorm more in the coming weeks, hope my schedule allows. The mare behind those eyes is special, and I can see she's waiting, waiting for me to carry her to the place that she can begin to carry me.


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Overcoming Fear: Handling Horses with Confidence

Few words are more powerful than those that come from the mouths of a people we respect. What might be a throwaway comment in the mind of the speaker twines itself around the mind of the listener, fortifying or degrading, often lingering for years.

When Travis and I were newly acquainted with the Barb horse, we spent a great deal of time at Quien Sabe Ranch, fountainhead of Robert Painter's efforts to preserve the ancient breed. One of the first things I learned there was how little I knew. My own childhood of lesson stables and country rides paled in comparison to Painter's seventy years among the horses. Not only did he have years on me, he also had countless hours of experience with unhandled horses.

Once recognized as the equine expert among my peers, I found myself utterly unprepared to work with the Painter herd. Oh, I knew how to tack up, pick hooves, sidepass and serpentine, apply splint boots and clip fetlocks. I understood cross-tie safety, stall mats, scratches, and colic symptoms. I could clean stalls, apply linament, post on the correct diagonal, and choose supplements...none of which did me any good amidst a herd of horses as yet untouched by human hands.

Compounding my uncertainty was the increased awareness of mortality that comes with age. Since the horse-keeping days of my youth, I'd suffered enough injuries to be relieved of the notion that "it won't happen to me." Barbs are not large horses, but they are possessed of an indefinable presence, an energy that is at once impressive and intimidating. I shocked myself -- a lifelong horse lover -- by reacting with fear.

Afraid of being stepped on or knocked over by the hot-blooded, unpredictable, nervous horses, I moved timidly in their presence. I stood with my feet well back from their hooves, touched their skins lightly so as not to startle them. Such treatment only served to make them more afraid, so progress was slow.

Most disheartening of all was Robert Painter's declaration that, "Very few people can start these horses."

What little confidence I had left all but dissolved in the wake of those words. After Travis and I left Quien Sabe, I lay awake many nights wondering how I, who had never worked with anything but truely "domestic" horses, could possibly gentle the seven precious, exquisitely sensitive, virtually wild Barbs in my pasture -- let alone train them for endurance competition.

There was nothing for it but to try. I read every website and book I could find about horse training. I attended equine expositions to compile the wisdom of various trainers. More than once, I left these expos in tears of despair. So many horses that couldn't touch my Barbs in quality, but whose training made them fit to present and promote! So I studied longer, harder, and meanwhile Travis and I struggled to scrape together enough cash for a round corral.

We also bought another horse -- a four year old Arabian named Aaruba Sunsette. The idea was to give me a practice horse, a gentled but unfinished project on which to hone my training skills before starting on the higher stakes Barbs that, Painter had convinced me, could be ruined by a single wrong move.

Unfortunately, my confidence was so low that I was anxious even around Aaruba. Though I knew he was accustomed to handling -- I'd seen his previous owner stand behind him and tug on his tail in a bizarre effort to catch him in a small space, an action that didn't seem to disturb Aaruba in the slightest -- fear still choked my efforts to train him. Young and emotional, he came with a thirty day start under saddle and a reputation for bolting when mounted. More than once, I primed myself for a training session with half a shot of vodka.

While I certainly don't recommend mixing alcohol with equestrian activities, I will admit those shots of liquid courage help set me on the road to recovery. They quieted my nerves sufficiently that I could quiet my horse.

You see, it never occurs to a horse that his handler's fear might be of the horse himself. As a prey animal, a horse's response to anxiety among his fellows is critical to survival. When I --the herd leader -- am afraid, I communicate to my horse that his anxiety is justified.

Attempts to conceal nervousness from a horse are rarely effective. Horses are too perceptive, too well attuned to the dilation of pupils and speeding of pulse, to be fooled by false confidence. Fortunately, I find that I can that I can trick my own body into releasing tension. Consciously relaxing my shoulders and sighing deeply goes a long way toward soothing my mind, which in turn soothes my horse. (These actions also work well when I'm not nervous, but my horse is.)

Vodka notwithstanding, the best tonic for handler anxiety is experience. After two years of spending several hours each day among my Barbs, I rarely worry anymore that a horse, even an ungentled one, will step on or into me. I now prefer to stand so close to them that their shoulders warm my chest as I rub their trembling necks, for I know this comforts them. I trust my instincts and have conditioned myself to remain calm regardless of my horse's emotional level.

Ironically, Aaruba has proven the most challenging member of my herd. He's flightier than the Barbs, less practical, more prone to losing focus in moments of stress. Indeed, the Barbs are positively easy to train by comparison.

To be fair, I believe Robert Painter based his discouraging pronouncement that "very few people can start these [Barbs]" on bad experiences with cowboy-style "trainers" who believe dominating a horse is more important that understanding it. It is true that Barbs generally have too much courage to allow themselves to be manhandled. Rather than submitting to rough handling, a Barb will fight back. Fairly treated, however, he will respond with uncommon loyalty and intelligence to match.

But what is so difficult about that? I've done my research, and it has paid off. I understand things now that I never needed to understand back in my days of working with domesticated horses. I've learned how horses think, learned to speak their language rather than waiting on their attempts to learn mine. I've learned that horses are the embodiment of their own emotions, all honesty and prey and will to survive.

Whether that makes me one of the "very few," I don't know. But, I can tell you this: In empathizing with my Barbs, I forget to worry about myself.

...and I can start these horses.

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Enough is Enough: Communicating with Horses

The familiar Biblical admonishment, "Fathers, do not exasperate your children," often comes to mind while I train. The text might as easily advise, "Trainers, do not exasperate your horses."

Many trainers emphasize the importance of extensive repetition to equine learning. In his books, John Lyons recommends counting 50 or more repetitions of a single exercise, such as the "go forward" cue, on the theory that a horse won't fully understand what he's doing right without that much practice.

I respect many things about John Lyons (not least, his marketing ability) but endless repetition is a point on which we disagree. If I tapped Consolation's hip and asked her to go forward, then stop, then go forward, then stop 50 times, she'd kick me from here to Rhode Island... and I'd deserve it.

Note: That's our Barb filly Ripple Effect in the photos, during her first lunging lesson in November 2007.

Perhaps breed is a key factor in the debate. Lyons' longtime star performer was an Appaloosa called Zip. Lyons is almost always pictured aboard Quarter Horses or breeds of similar type, as are other riders featured in his books and DVDs. Quarter Horse types, on the whole, come standard with a different kind of mind than Barbs, Arabians, and other hot bloods.

Quick history lesson: Most of the horses brought to the New World beginning with Columbus' second voyage in the late 1400's were small, hardy, hot blooded Spanish stock. For years, many colonists and American Indian tribes bred superior horses of a type commonly referred to today as "Spanish Colonial." It was astride some of our Barbs' ancestors that Chief Joseph's Nez Perce tribe outran the U.S. Army for nearly 2,000 miles in 1877.

Sadly, the Army failed to recognize the quality of these flashy-coated but small horses. Upon Chief Joseph's surrender, most of the Nez Perce's stallions, like those of many other tribes, were gelded or shot. Draft and thoroughbred stallions were turned out in their place in hopes of improving upon the tough, little mares.

While the Spanish Colonial type still reigns in South America, we North Americans have become unaccustomed to them. My neighbor with the bay mare wasn't the first to comment, albiet in a non-disparaging tone, that my Barbs "don't look like normal horses."

Indeed, today's Quarter Horses and their colored cousins, the Appaloosas and Paints, are heavily influenced by the extensive cross-breedings that nearly wiped out the Spanish Colonial type in North America. These breeds include a number of fine individuals, but on the whole they reflect the cold blood of their draft ancestors not only in their bulky, fast-twitch muscle fibres, but also in their relatively lethargic mentality.

Many equestrians, like Lyons, prefer Quarter Horse types for their muscular physique and quiet demeanor. There's something to be said for a horse that will tolerate a great deal of abuse, whether intentionally in the form of "cowboying" or unwittingly by careless or novice riders. With this advantage, however, comes thicker skin -- figuratively and sometimes literally -- that requires more repetition before a lesson breaks through.

Our Barbs, however, learn so quickly that one or two repetitions is often sufficient. My usual training tactic is to make a request, reward attempts at the right answer, repeat the behavior several times to be sure the horse understands, then move on to something else and review the lesson later. Lingering too long on a single task results in a bored and frustrated horse. I can almost hear such an animal thinking, "I've got it, lady. Lay off."

You know the familiar advice: Always finish on a good note. Too often, this is applied as follows:

1) Trainer frustrates horse by repeating the lesson too many times after horse "gets it"

2) Horse reacts by seeming to forget or rebel against the lesson he just learned

3) Trainer, also frustrated, continues drilling horse

4) Horse complies, but shoddily and with a poor attitude

5) Trainer quits, believing herself to have ended on a "good note"


I've done it.
Haven't you?

Blessed was the day I learned to stop just after the epiphany, when both horse and trainer are triumphant.

We did it, partner! We're brilliant together! Let's do it again tomorrow!

The Stars of Our Show: Barb Horses at In the Night Farm

A fellow blogger at Global Horse Culture recently expressed the hope that I would share more about how we chose our Barbs. This, I suspect, is a two part request: First and most important is the question of why we prefer the International Barb Horse Registry (IBHR) horses as preserved by Robert Painter of Quien Sabe Ranch. Second, what drove our selection of the seven individuals that comprise our little breeding program here at In the Night Farm?

Because it is Friday and I remain in a funk about my sprained ankle, I'll address the simpler question first -- why did we choose these particular Barbs?

Selecting horses from the Quien Sabe herd isn't as easy as looking down a list of available horses, marking the most interesting on the basis of bloodlines or price or what have you, then taking those animals for a test drive. You see, very few horses on the ranch are gentled at all, let alone halter broke or started under saddle. The herd, seperated in various ways by age and/or gender, runs essentially wild on over 400 acres near Midvale, Idaho. Extensive wandering on diverse footing wears their hooves beautifully, strengthens muscle and bone, and sharpens their wits.

Visitors may walk among the horses, but few members of the herd allow themselves to be touched. Those that do -- often, the boldest two-year-olds -- extend elegent necks to flutter nostrils against outstretched fingertips before retreating, all snort and prance, among their fellows.

Travis and I had the advantage of spending a great deal of time at the ranch, observing the herd that numbered around 200 head, absorbing tales of their ancestors, and watching the young horses mature. When we moved back to the Treasure Valley, we brought with us five Barbs.

Insider, our 2000 Barb stallion by Idaho Night Hawk out of Chispa, was the first to be chosen. If you ever meet him in person, you'll understand my immediate attraction to this horse. He is lovely in every way -- at 13.3 hands, he's well-muscled and strong-boned, kind-eyed, and possessed of an enviable double mane. Dr. Phillip Sponen- berg, respected livestock genetics expert and author of Equine Color Genetics, met Insider and both his parents in 2006. At that time, he informed me that Insider is most likely a "purple roan," which is to say, a mahogany bay roan. In winter, Insider's coat turns a rather muddy shade of violet-brown, but in summer he is all shine and glory, speckled with dark corns (irregular spots that increase in number with age), and glinting with a coppery sheen typically associated with Akhal Tekes' metallic coats. But it was Insider's personality that attracted me most of all...perhaps because he and I are so much alike: restless, inquisitive, stubborn, determined, and formidable when crossed. And, we both appreciate a good meal.

Tuetano is our other stallion, born in 2002 by Fuego out of Quieta. A bay roan like most of Fuego's get, Tano stands about 14.2 and has unusually expressive eyes. At Quien Sabe, he stood out among his fellow three-year-olds as a tough and stylish colt. Upon arrival at In the Night Farm in 2006, Tano was still on the gangly side, but he has grown into a beautifully conformed representative of the Barbs. We selected him from a short list of available Quien Sabe colts, not only on his own potential, but also on the basis of his sire's exceptional quality and obvious prepotency (for more than just color). In personality, Tano is both sweeter and shier than Insider, suspicious of new activity but endlessly curious and eager to please.

Consolation, our 2002 mare by IBHR foundation stallion Arivaca out of Dove, has already been introduced in this post. She came to us as part of a barter, and I confess she would not have been my first choice from the Quien Sabe fillies her age. I'm pleased to report, however, that despite my intial misgivings, Consolation has blossomed into what is arguably our finest mare and a stellar example of the breed. Her training continues to progress and I'm looking forward to her first Limited Distance race in 2008.

Alternating Current, better known as Acey, is a 2003, bay rabicano mare by Marawooti out of Chiripa. I haven't measured her recently, but I'd venture a guess that as our smallest Barb, she's topped out at 13 hands. Fine-featured and adorable under a great puff of forelock (see the photo at the bottom of this post), Acey stood out among the other Quien Sabe fillies for her alertness, petite but sturdy and balanced conformation, and an alluring, undefinable charm. Friendly and sensible, she's a pleasure to train and should be well started under saddle by Fall 2008.


Sandstorm, the lovely grulla featured in our blog header, is a 2003 mare by IBHR foundation stallion Lancelot out of Sands of Time. Very like her sire, Sandstorm is quite cautious, though not exactly "spooky," and eager to comply once assured that she won't be harmed. I'm still in the early phases of gentling Sandstorm, but I suspect that once I have her trust, she'll come along very quickly indeed. I look forward to the day I can sit aboard the sailboat-smooth and lightening-fast extended trot that first attracted my attention at the ranch.

When Consolation and Acey came to In the Night Farm, both were in foal to Jack's Legacy of Quien Sabe Ranch. Anyone familiar with Spanish Mustangs will recognize in Legacy the trademark color and mane of his sire, Jack Slade. (Note: Although the Spanish Mustang Registry (SMR) includes a number of horses we believe to be Barbs, an examination of SMR stock reveals a broader spectrum of types than is included in the IBHR. In the Night Farm's Barbs are IBHR registered and although they share bloodlines with some SMR horses, our horses should not be considered Spanish Mustangs.)

In July 2006, Crackerjack, aka "CJ," (colt, Jack's Legacy x Consolation) and Ripple Effect (filly, Jack's Legacy x Alternating Current) were born just three days apart. Beneath the awkwardness of youth, both show every sign of developing into lovely horses indeed.

CJ is especially eye-catching, and it may just break my heart to have him gelded this spring. However, I am determined to enjoy our Barbs as well as preserve and promote them, and In the Night Farm is fortunate to have two very nice stallions already. Outstanding in physique and personality, CJ is poised for a career as one of the finest geldings on the endurance trails.

Ripple Effect retains the lovely Marawooti head of her grandsire. Indeed, she looks so much like her dam that I often mistake them for one another when feeding before dawn. Inquisitive, bold as brass, generous, sweet-natured, and honest, Ripple ought to make a high quality riding horse, as well as a source of the Jack Slade line in our herd.

And there you have it, a summary of our precious herd. In a later post, I'll address the reasons for In the Night Farm's commitement to promotion and preservation of the IBHR Barbs.

Of Mighty Mice and Men

A couple weeks ago, while out riding Aaruba, I met a nice gentleman who lives atop a hill some two miles from In the Night Farm. We talked long enough to learn that we shared a few acquaintances, some training philosophies, and a love of horses. When he mentioned that he's in the process of selecting a stallion for a 2008 breeding to his bay Quarter Horse mare, I invited him to come have a look at Insider and Tuetano.

Three days later, he showed up aboard the bay mare and spent an hour on a casual tour of our place. Having heard positive reports about the Barbs' athleticism and trainability, he was eager to learn more. We discussed the Barb's skeletal structure and conformation, including his short back with exactly five lumbar vertebrae (rather than the usual five-plus-fused-piece or six), round cannon bones (rather than oblong), deeply muscled loins, uphill build, low set tail, and sub-convex profile resulting in large airway capacity.

Though favorably impressed by the stallions' conformation and demeanor, my neighbor repeatedly expressed surprise at the small size of the Barbs, which generally fall between 13.2 and 15 hands and mature slowly, often not reaching their full height until age five or older. He seemed to think that horses with a reputation for toughness ought to be tall and bulky, and his reaction to Insider, who stands just 13.3, was typical: "Well, if I wanted to breed for a kids' horse..." I hear it all the time -- but only from people who haven't seen the big horse inside the little body!

Don't get me wrong. I think my neighbor is a pretty good horseman. He is, however, yet another victim of the "bigger is better" epidemic that has swept America. The epidemic isn't restricted to fast food menus and SUV's -- it affects our horses as well.

I prefer the ancient, light breeds, particularly the Barb and Arabian. Though small and slow-growing, they can carry a relatively high weight for their size, not least because they're hauling around less of their own bulk. Those bred for performance rather than the "halter look" tend to be athletic, with a lot of bone and large hooves relative to their size. They rarely suffer the hoof, joint, and back problems so common among today's Quarter Horses and Warmbloods. Many factors are at play in such deficiencies -- the futurity/racing trend of starting massive but skeletally immature two-year-olds under saddle, breeding for appearence rather than performance, and the practice of hastening growth by means of selective breeding and excessive nutrition, just to name a few.

Surely nature never intended near-adult weight to hang on a baby equine's frame. Nevertheless, my neighbor was shocked to see my 20-month-old Barbs (including CJ, whose photos accompany this post) at the approximate height of, and lower weight than, a Quarter Horse yearling. Imagine his incredulous tone. "These are two-year-olds?"

"Five years from now," I wanted to say, "let's test your 2006 foals against mine. You choose the discipline -- reining, cutting, endurance, jumping, polo, dressage -- and you'll see what these itty-bitty Barbs can do...barefoot and on a diet of hay alone."

I refrained, however. My neighbor said he'd consider his options for the bay mare, and I waved him off with a smile and a promise that a half-Barb will be the best horse he's ever had -- even if it is the smallest.

Of Lions and Lambs: Horse Training as a Discipline

Ah, spring! There's nothing like waking in the middle of the night after a warm, sunny evening to hear rain on the skylights. The drops strike sharply, like impatient fingernails. That's appropriate, I think, for to me the sound of rain is often the sound of frustration.

You see, training and conditioning horses is not something to approach haphazardly. A session here, a ride there, will not get you very far down the trail. Serious training is a discipline, like exercising or earning a 4.0 GPA, that thrives in an environment of commitment. A day missed isn't just a day, just a training session, just a conditioning ride. It is an opportunity sacrificed, often at the price of two more days spent making up lost ground.

I'm not the first to appreciate the familiar advice, Plan your work, then work your plan. It is possible, however, that I take it more seriously than most. Take my Training Tracker, for example. A masterpiece in Excel, this is a spreadsheet developed over the course of the past two years, in which I record the following:

• Yearly training goals for each horse.
• Notes on progress toward said goals.
• A schedule, which currently extends through September 2008, detailing which horses I'll work with each day (no more than two horses per weeknight, no more than four per weekend day, all Fridays off) and what kind of session it will be (training, riding, long riding, or other workout).
• Curriculum plans for each of my "focus" horses detailing what each training session this year will cover, how long each ride will be, and whether we'll tackle hills or distance or speed.

Coordinating the training and conditioning schedules of eight horses is an organizational nightmare. For example, Consolation is typically booked for work on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Aaruba is booked for Sunday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Alternating Current, aka Acey, is booked for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Saturday. So what happens when we have to leave at noon Saturday to haul Aaruba to an endurance ride that will take most of Sunday? Ask my Training Tracker. It knows everything.

A good friend of mine took a look at the spreadsheets yesterday. "You are so anal," she exclaimed. "I love that about you!"

I'm glad someone does.

Anyway. As you can see, rain is not on the agenda. Nor, unfortunately, is a covered round corral. The good news is that I am (ever so slightly) smarter than I look. My "official" training schedule for the Barbs begins in April, not March. The idea behind this is to reduce frustration during March's inevitable lionish days, while enabling me to feel particularly virtuous when I squeeze in "bonus" training sessions while the lambs are in town.

This buffer period in my schedule has already proven useful. Horses, particularly those in the earlier stages of training, can be quite as fickle as spring weather. Take Acey, for example. Late in 2007, she was leading beautifully, tacking up, and standing quietly while I put a foot in the stirrup and tugged. On Monday, during her first training session of the new year, she was all attention and calm, despite a minor resurgence of her suspicions about having her poll touched.

But yesterday, she'd have none of it. It seems her halter grew fangs overnight. Goosey and google-eyed, Acey raced around the corral like a banshee the second it touched her muzzle. So much for my plan to review picking up hooves, trotting in hand, and leading on the off side.

Shrug. Back to the basics. Stand for haltering, and you get to rest and be petted. Move away, and you get to trot around some more. Hot under that winter coat, isn't it? Ready to stop? Okay, let's try again. Lather, rinse, repeat. We ended the session calmly, slipping the halter on and off, enjoying scratches on that itchy spot between her forelegs, and leading quietly back to her pen.

I believe it is well-known trainer John Lyons who notes in one of his books that learning in horses typically follows a two-steps-forward, one-step-back pattern. I hope my Training Tracker includes enough extra days to account for this, and for all manner of setbacks from colic to thunderstorms. The signature line of another poster on an equine discussion board I frequent admonishes, Light in the leg, soft in the hands, ride the horse and not the plan.

Amen, sister. That's the only way.

Horses, like March, have lamb days, golden days when their eyes are soft, their heads low, their minds and bodies supple. And they have lion days, all fret and trial and storm. Handled properly, both kinds of days are useful to build relationships and teach us to listen to one another. They are, after all, the nature of the beast.

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M'Lady, If You Please: The Respect of Horses

It has been said that there are horses, and there are horses.

This mare is one of the latter. Her papers say she's called Consolation, but in our private conversations, I address her as M'Lady. As in royalty. Whatever you call that certain something -- style, presence, sheer class -- she has it.

A five year old Barb mare out of Dove by IBHR foundation stallion Arivaca, Consolation (IBHR 238) is lead mare at In the Night Farm. She's been a tough nut to crack, training-wise. There's nothing wrong with her mind. She's practical as a housewife, smarter than most fifth graders, and possessed of a generous work ethic. She is grace incarnate and carries herself at liberty in the self-possessed frame of a schooled dressage mount. She has no shortage of courage nor sense. No, the problem with Consolation is the very trait that makes her attractive. She's regal.

Regal doesn't snuggle. Regal isn't intersted in closing its eyes for a poll rub. Regal is all about business, which is a challenge when I am all about bonding.

Many trainers say the key to the horse's mind is its feet. A horse in motion is a horse that can be taught. I've found this to be true, even of m'lady Consolation. Certainly she is learning. She arrived at In the Night Farm completely ungentled, never having worn a halter or had her withers scratched.

Now, she catches, catches, leads, and ties. We can trim her feet, deworm her, brush and tack her. Before the weather shut down my training last November, I swung aboard for the first time and was pleased that the great event was decidedly uneventful.

And yet...and yet. Still I search for the key to her heart. Instead of following me around the round corral as the other horses do, she prefers to stand at quiet attention, watching me with bright, intelligent eyes.

But let's not anthropomorphize. It seems to me that horses don't understand love in the way a human or a dog understands it. In the horse world, respect is the closest emotion to love. If respect is giving to pressure, watching for cues, seeking the right answer when I ask for something new, Consolation has given me respect.

Perhaps respect, by a queen, is offered subtly. Perhaps it is simply going where I lead, turning when I turn, stopping at my side. Perhaps it is admitting, by the faintest twitch of her lips, that a scratch beneath her mane feels pretty good, after all.

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Barbey Girl in a Barbey World

In summer 2005, Travis and I lived in our recently- purchased house in a Boise neighbor- hood. Gardening was at the top of my hobby (obsession?) agenda, while distant plans to buy acreage and a pair of horses simmered on the back burner. Then, along about August, Fate turned up the heat.

My mother put us in touch with a business contact of hers, saying he owned some rare horses called Barbs. “Oh, Spanish Barbs?” I said in a knowledgeable tone not unlike that which I've heard from a great many people since.

“He says they aren’t Spanish Barbs. Just Barbs. They’re supposed to be really good mountain horses. He's going to race them in endurance.”

My attention was riveted, and Travis' wasn’t far behind as we drove to meet the gentleman and his little herd. He told us tales that, in retrospect, were rather taller than absolutely necessary. Nevertheless, we wasted no time in making our way from his place to meet Robert and Louise Painter at Quien Sabe Ranch, where this apparently pure strain of Barbs was bred.

Because I’m writing a blog here, not a novel, I’ll condense this story to its bare essentials. Travis and I spent hundreds of hours at Quien Sabe, learning from the Painters and doing our best to help with the physical maintenance of the ranch. We sold our house and lived at Quien Sabe for two months in the fall of 2006 before returning to the Treasure Valley with five Barbs and a great longing to assist with the preservation and promotion of the breed.

After several months of renting an inadequate facility, we settled in on our little farm near the Idaho-Oregon border just two months before the birth of our first Barb foal. Her half-brother, Crackerjack, was born two days later. The pair of them are pictured here at two weeks of age, with Ripple in front.

Never having worked with untouched adult horses before, Travis and I agreed to purchase an Arabian gelding, Aaruba Sunsette, from Martin Arabians in Mountain Home so I could hone my horsemanship skills before starting in on the higher-stakes Barbs. Aaruba arrived with a few rides on him but a lot of holes in his training. Two years later, I can safely report that he has been an excellent trainer for me…and more difficult than any of his Barb companions.

These days, I spend every hour I can conditioning Aaruba for his first year of endurance racing and working toward getting the Barbs under saddle. But that's just about enough of the past. Henceforth, my posts will concern the present. Mostly.

What Have We Here? : Introducing the Barb Horse

Any person who has tried to trace the history of a breed, equine or otherwise, knows that much is lost to the mists of time. Even among the relatively small number of Barb devotees in North America today, disagreement abounds about the exact history of the breed. Much of what I have written here is extrapolated from the work of Dr. Deb Bennett, one of the world's foremost equine experts and a respected researcher and paleontologist. For further detail, see Dr. Bennett's article on The Origins and Relationships of the Mustang, Barb, and Arabian Horse, available on the Equine Studies Institute website.

More than 3,000 years ago, horses of Afro-Turkic extraction were brought by sailing vessel from the Mediterranean to France and the British aisles. These horses, when bred with the native, draft-type, Iberian horses, produced unusually hardy foals capable of greater endurance than either their sires or their dams.

The Iberian crossbreds traveled, in the hands of traders, to what would one day become Spain. King Solomon possessed them, then Hannibal, then the Romans and the Numidian cavalry from North Africa. In the fifth century A.D., northern invaders stole herds of Iberian horses from Gibralter and shipped them to North Africa, where they were backcrossed on the blood of their ancestors.

The resulting Barbary Horses, or Barbs, retained some characteristics of their Iberian influence. However, the infusion of Afro-Turkic bloodlines resulted in a lighter body type. Less refined for beauty than the Arabian, another ancient breed heavily influenced by the Afro-Turkic stock, Barbs were characterized by exceptional endurance and soundness of the legs and hooves. Their profiles were straight or sub-convex, their cannon bones round rather than oblong, their backs short and strong, their croups sloped to low-set tails, ideal for the crouching and spinning maneuvers required by North African warriors.

Here, the history grows murkier. Dr. Bennett’s article continues to explain the influence of the Barb on the Jennet, which experienced renewed draft influence in Spain and came to the New World in Columbus’ time, ultimately resulting in the so-called American “mustang.”

However, Robert Painter of Quien Sabe Ranch notes that his horses are not products of the hodgepodge of draft, thoroughbred, and other miscellaneous bloodlines so common among modern “mustangs,” that is, feral horses of non-specific type. Additionally, he believes his horses represent the original Barb that moved from North Africa to Spain, and from there to the New World with the Conquistadors. While most of the pure Barbs in Africa and Spain have been crossbred into oblivion, Painter has spent more than half a century gathering horses he believes to be of the original type, preserving their purity on his ranch near Midvale, Idaho. It is from this herd that In the Night Farm’s stock comes.

Painter’s understanding of Barb history is briefly presented in the Breed Profile Section of the March 2008 issue of The Northwest Horse Source, together with a photo of In the Night Farm’s 2000 stallion, Insider (Idaho Night Hawk x Chispa, IBHR 191). The same photo accompanies this post.

So, what do I believe about our horses? I believe they are representatives of ancient bloodlines, unusually sound of mind and body, rare, and able to improve nearly any other horse with whom they are crossed. The precise details of their origins remain a fascinating mystery.

Saddle Up!

Any equestrian worth his saltblock will tell you that March is a terrible time to start blogging about one's horses. Though it hasn't snowed in several weeks, the Barbs of In the Night Farm remain swaddled in two inches of winter hair, their manes tangled by raging wind, and their minds set on a good roll in the mud after every rain. They are, at the moment, somewhat less than photogenic.

So, why start now? It's not because I'm bored at work, or even because I just like to hear myself type. There are two reasons: First, Daylight Saving Time arrived on Sunday, which means training season has officially begun. After nearly eight weeks of doing nothing with the horses except murmuring endearments to them as I trudge through the drifts, draining hoses and tossing hay, my round corral is finally dry and ready for action.

The second reason for starting this blog now is that I've had two requests in the last week alone, both from complete strangers, to see something online about the Barbs. Sure, I could post the website that currently languishes on my hard drive, but blogging is free...and training horses is a journey that can't be chronicled properly via a more static medium.

Here, I'll record my forays into horse training, endurance riding, and equine history, particularly with regard to the Barb Horse. The horses are the freeway, if you will. But knowing me, I'm likely to take a few side trips into my other passions -- organic gardening, vegetarian cooking, and writing fiction.

Some people say I'm too goal-oriented, too driven, perhaps even obsessive. Well. You know those people who are content to come home from the office, grill a cheese sandwich, and watch television until bedtime? I'm not one of them. I'm proud to live by the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who wrote:

The heights by great men reached and kept

Were not attained by sudden flight,

But they, while their companions slept,

Were toiling upward in the night.

At In the Night Farm, it's all about the journey. You're welcome to come along for the ride.