Capricious Capri

Two years ago, when I named Capri, I chose the name because she reminded me of a little brown goat: nimble, quick, smart, sweet and irresistible.  She is all of that and more: beautiful, mellow, hug-able and trainable.  Darned if she doesn't have a flip-side though.  In fact, she can be downright capricious.  According to the Free Dictionary, the definition of capricious is "Given to sudden and unaccountable changes of mood or behavior."  Synonyms include whimsical, wayward, fickle, freakish and crotchety.  Yup.  Capricious Capri.  Why am I down on our chocolate colored darling?  Because six weeks ago she came down on me.  Hard.  Hard enough to keep me out of the barn for six to eight weeks, and hard enough for me to say "Enough."

More than a year ago, Capri bucked Rick off in the biggest bucking spectacle I had ever seen.  We gave her the benefit of the doubt and figured she must have had some pain.  We gave her a year of pasture rest, with lots of tender loving care.  This spring, she began to show interest in working, so I started the process of restarting her under saddle.  Saddle, bridle, ground-driving, ponying, the works.  All done cheerfully and without a hint of unsoundness.  Our farrier felt like she was almost ready to ride.

Rick loves to go on pack trips with his other horses, and so do a lot of other folks in our area, so we decided to teach Capri to pack.  Packing a horse for a season before riding it can teach it to be willing and tractable, as well as get in it shape and teach it to balance a load.  Generally, when a rider climbs on at the end of a packing season, the horse is relieved to have live weight on board and is ready to get to work.

With our humble goal in mind, Rick and I began the process of training Capri to accept a pack saddle and the myriad collection of assorted straps, buckles and what-nots that are part of the mountain-horse's getup.  A pack saddle really is much, much different than a riding saddle, and we were very pleased and proud when Capri accepted it without so much as a flick of her tail.  She ponied beautifully behind Rick's good saddle horse, and figured out how to go around stacked barrels (make-believe trees) without knocking them down.  The second session started out just as well as the first.  We decided to add hard-sided panniers to the saddle, which Capri accepted with no problem.  Then we decided to add weight to the panniers.  A forty-pound sack of grain was placed inside each pannier, and up they went on Capri.  Still no problem.

We're not strangers to the pack-training process, having taught each of Rick's other horses to pack in the last couple of years.  We know full well that a horse can throw a hissy fit when it first feels those loaded panniers on its sides, and we were prepared for Capri to spin away from us and show us a few tricks.  What we weren't prepared for was for Capri to come forward, into me, in a full-blown bucking, snorting, farting explosion that simply wouldn't quit.

Near-death experiences are nothing new to mustang people, and can provide an exhilarating rush of adrenaline and a powerful sense of immortality.  Heady stuff for a middle-aged gal whose second-most exciting activity in life is shoveling manure.  My previous experiences, however, left me unscathed.  This one didn't.  I am recovering from a broken collarbone, six broken ribs, whiplash and two sprains to my shoulders.  Fortunately, recovering is the operative word and I will be perfectly fine, but I've decided that thumbing my nose at the grave isn't the wisest thing for a mother of four to be doing.

Capri is fine and dandy, out standing in her field, without a care in the world.  I'd prefer not to work with her again, knowing her capricious nature, but perhaps someone else is up for the challenge?  Or perhaps someone has a field for her to be out standing in?  Capri needs a new home, one where she can just be a mustang.  She is good company for other horses, gets along with everyone, doesn't have any special needs and is lovely to look at.  Could you be Capri's special new person?

The Devil Needed His Chocolate Fix

On a blustery Wednesday evening six weeks ago, Rick had the shortest, wildest ride of his life.  Capri, the sweet chocolate-coated mustang mare, had been twiddling her thumbs for a couple of weeks and needed to be ridden.  As her trainer, I had been Capri's primary rider.  Rick had only ridden her twice before, and on each of those occasions I rode her first.  On this particular evening, I wasn't feeling well, so I groomed Capri but Rick did her groundwork, then saddled her up.  She seemed a little sassy, and maybe a little nervous, but she hadn't had much work lately and it was a very windy evening.  In fact, if the wind hadn't died down at the last minute, Rick wouldn't have ridden her at all, as it was a very noisy, somewhat creepy storm.

With the saddle and bridle snug in their places on our sweet Capri, Rick put his left foot in the stirrup.  Capri side-stepped away, and Rick repositioned her and told her to hold still.  She did, but she still looked sassy and nervous.  It was unusual behavior for Capri, but we thought she would be okay once Rick was up and he got her busy.

Get up and get busy doesn't begin to describe it.

Rick set his seat in the saddle, slipped his second foot in the stirrup, and picked up the reins.  And that is when Capri cut loose.  I've never been so close to such ferocious bucking in my life.  She gave him the ol' one-two punch with a fancy combination of bucking and crow-hopping, and to his credit, Rick stayed on for three big bucks before he came flying off and landed on his back in the soft arena footing.  Capri wasn't done, though.  She felt the need to stick around and buck some more, right over the top of Rick while he was still on his back.  Darn if it wasn't the scariest thing I've ever seen!  Rick literally reached up with both feet to kick and push Capri off of him.  She kept bucking--hard--while galloping two laps around the arena.  Rick was okay, thank heaven, except for some general soreness.

Once Capri stopped, she came to me and put her head at my shoulder and acted like nothing at all had happened.  She looked fine, and I was convinced that she simply preferred me, which really had me worried, because training horses that only respond to me is not what I'm here to do.  Creating a Jekyll and Hyde monster is not my idea of successful horse training!

I let a day go by, a day spent agonizing over Capri's future.  Who would want a devil horse?  Rick doesn't, and I don't either, but it was impossible to believe that our sweet Capri had actually gone to the other side.  I needed to spend some time with Capri to find out what was really going on.  So I groomed her and got the saddle out.  Saddling Capri has always been a simple task, and she has never shown the slightest bit fear or discomfort regarding it.  Until this time.  She let me put the saddle pad on her back without too much concern, but when I lifted the saddle up her eyes about popped out of her head and she snorted with fear.  I set it gently on her back, but it was clear that she was terrified of me putting the right stirrup and cinch down, so I left them up.  I cooed to her and soothed her fear, then asked her to take a few steps.  She did, and gradually calmed down.  I put the saddle away and spent some quiet time with her before putting her away too.

I let another day go by, then decided to get to the heart of the matter.  When all else fails go back to square one, right?  I got the teeny-tiny pony saddle out and plopped it on Capri with no problem.  Dropped the stirrup and cinched her up, and still no problem.  I took it off, and replaced it with the big saddle, which I cinched up without too much trouble.  I put the bridle on too, and made it clear to Capri with my posture that I had no intention of riding her, but we were going to do some groundwork.  I picked up the left rein and asked her to give to the pressure.  She did, with no problem, so I did the same with the right rein, which caused her to absolutely explode.  I was standing at her head, and she was nice enough to explode in reverse, so I was fine.  So, now I knew where the problem was.  Capri had some serious pain in her right shoulder or elbow and her girth area.  It explained why the bucking started the instant Rick put weight in the right stirrup and picked up the right rein.  Capri and the other horses had been doing some crazy running and bucking in the pastures the very afternoon of Rick's eventful ride, so there is a good chance that she hurt herself at that time.  Poor Capri.  Why didn't we listen when she tried to tell us she didn't want a rider?  Perhaps she could have spoken a little more clearly?  A nice, obvious limp would've been a good clue!  What does she think I am, anyway, a horse whisperer?

So now six weeks have passed, and in that time Capri has had a mixed bag of treatments, including bute, rest, light turnout, light exercise, and massage.  Tonight, she had some vigorous exercise and a massage that she enjoyed very much.  She is feeling good and looking bright and beautiful, so the plan is to get her gradually back in training.  I don't know exactly what the future holds for Capri, but she is staying on the sweet side, and the Devil can get his fix somewhere else.