But, This Is All for Your Mules!

My husband recently asked what I wanted for Christmas. After a little thought, I rattled off a few items: new stall hanger, extra bucket strap, portable saddle rack, reflective bridle set for riding after dark...

"But, that's all stuff for your mules," he pouted. "I want to get something for you."

"Um, where have you been the last five years, Sweetie?" I replied. "My girls are what make me happy, so why would I want anything else?"

"I guess," he surrendered.

Fortunately, when it comes right down to it, he knows just how important my girls are to me, and he supports my hobby 100 percent. If it weren't for Madge and Maxine, I'd still be spending most of my weekends on the couch watching reruns. Now I spend at least one day each weekend at the barn. Whether I'm giving the girls a workout beside the golf cart or taking a trail ride with friends, my girls provide that extra something my life was missing five years ago. That is why the number one item on my Christmas list is a fancy bucket lid, not a diamond bracelet.

At least I'm easy to shop for.

Photo: Madge will be rooting for the University of Oregon Ducks during the upcoming Rose Bowl.

Happy Halloween!

Maxine, Madge, and I would like to wish you a happy, safe, warm Halloween.

Photo: Max catches the swine flu.

Happy National Mule Day!

From your friends, Jenny, Maxine, and Madge.

Peronal observation: Be sure to add it to your calendar. National Mule Day is every October 26!

Photo: Maxine and I give Madge a workout.

Pretty in... Anything but Blue!

Before Madge was born, I bought a large, expandable foal blanket. It was sold for Warmblood and Thoroughbred foals, so I was certain it would last--at least a little while.

During the summer, the blanket got quite soiled. Seems I was using it more as a training device on the stall floor than as a blanket for my baby. In late August, I thought it was time to get it ready for winter, so I tossed it in the back of the pick-up to take home for cleaning. That was the last time I saw it.

At first, I was heartbroken. Her first blanket, gone just like that. I searched high and low, but never found a stitch of that burgundy cloth.

When the weather turned cold, I resigned myself to buying a new one. Unfortunately, foal blankets are tough to find in local stores. I started looking at pony blankets instead, but the only thing I could find was blue.

Personal observation: Now, I'm not a vain gal--my Maxine wears blue as her primary color--but I really wanted Madge's first blanket to showcase her "mareness."

Fortunately, our local Wilco store has a very helpful woman in the horse section. She knew that she had "the cutest purple plaid blanket," but it was nowhere to be found. We waded through the sea of blue pony blankets to no avail. Soon, I was ready to move on to the next store, but she refused to give up hope.

"I just know I have one of those blankets somewhere," she said as she began searching her computer. "I found it! What size was she?"

I had to admit that I hadn't been able to get her size yet. I wasn't scheduled to drive to the barn until the next day, but the weather had turned quickly, so I was eager to get a blanket on my girl.

"No matter," she said. "I've got two in another store. I'll have them shipped here tomorrow. If you don't want them, I know I can get rid of them."

I thanked her and left the store. Still, I was annoyed that I would have to spend money on a new blanket when I had owned a perfectly good one just one month before.

The next day, Travis and I went down to the barn to do some work to pay off a little of our board fee. While we were there, we borrowed my trainer's tape to measure Madge for her new blanket. As I unrolled the tape, I was amazed.

"She's 56 inches now," I said.

"What was she before," asked Travis.

"I'm not sure, but the blanket she used to wear only expanded to 45 inches. She's grown well over ten inches! I guess we would've had to buy another blanket anyway," I laughed.

When the blanket arrived at Wilco the following day, I called to confirm the size.

"The blanket is 57 inches," said the woman's voice over the phone.

"That's perfect," I exclaimed, astonished by my good fortune. "I'll be right down to pick it up!"

Photo: Madge in her new Weatherbeeta blanket that just happens to have hot pink accent lines to match her hot pink halter. What luck!

Getting to Know You

As you can see, Maxine continues to resist the notion that Madge is here to stay. However, I have to admit that I kinda prefer it this way. The last thing I need is a pair of herd-bound idiots to deal with. As long as Max keeps an attitude, Madge will always know her place.

I often tell Maxine that she'll always be my number-one gal. In return, she helps me remind Madge know that I'm number one in our little herd. With as big as Madge is going to get, letting her know that she's low gal on the totem pole will come in handy down the road.

Personal observation: No, the camera isn't crooked. Madge is actually leaning away from Maxine. *smile*

Still, I know that Maxine is starting to enjoy her a little. Not long ago, I decided to work with them both together. I brought Maxine out first and tied her to the barn. When I brought Madge up, I saw a genuine look of curiosity on Maxine's face. She's not fooling me—she's definitely starting to enjoy her little sister—but we'll let her fool Madge into thinking otherwise for as long as she wants.

Photo: Madge learns that grazing in hand can be fun, as long as you stay away from Maxine's buffet.

How I Became an Official Cowgirl

As is the case with most riders, my goal when I took up riding was to never hit the ground. I don't know anyone who wouldn't agree that it's a lofty goal, especially when dealing with equines, but it never hurts to set your sights high.

My first step in the right direction was to find a safe, reputable trainer with calm, well-broke schooling animals. Unfortunately, I've learned that no amount of training, for equine or rider, can keep your butt in the saddle 100 percent of the time.

Someone once told me that you have to fall off three times to become an "Official Cowgirl." Well, here's how I became an Official Cowgirl:

#1—Emergency dismount: When I bought my trailer in 2007, I was eager to hit the trails. Unfortunately, my closest horsey friend had moved a few states away and I didn't really know anyone else to call. Not keen on riding alone, I decided to head over to a local park for an organized poker ride.

The parking lot was packed when I arrived. Surely there would be some group that wouldn't mind a tag-along mule and rider. After trying out a few groups, I finally settled with with a threesome: two middle-aged females and an older man. Things were going well until the old guy decided to show off by going through a small pond to the side of the trail. Ever the competitive one, I thought I'd follow because, well, Maxine can do anything.

Famous last thoughts.

As I steered Max into the water, she stopped short and tried to continue up the dry trail. Ignoring her warning, I lightly spurred her forward. She reluctantly obliged. As we waded through the ankle-deep water, her right hind leg sunk into a soft spot. She turned toward the dry trail and then fell to her haunches. As she was about to scramble to her feet, a calm voice in my head said, "Get your feet out of the stirrups and get off."

The voice repeated as I rolled into the mud and standing water. Max clamored back onto the trail and froze. Unhurt, I remained on the ground a moment as I scanned her legs for injury. When I was certain she was okay, I rose from the muck, and patted her on the neck in apology. Then, I mounted from a picnic table and continued our ride. Needless to say, we both got hosed off at the trail head that day.

#2—Unexpected dismount: After the NW Regional Trail Championship in Eugene, Oregon, last November, I was riding my trainer's sweet mammoth donkey through the practice course. The donkey was in a rushy mood, so my job was to slow her down.

As I guided her onto a raised dirt box, she jolted forward and then fell straight to the ground. Again, I heard, "Get your feet out of the stirrups and get off" from the recesses of my brain. Before she could raise back up, I did a double roll out of the saddle, off the box, and onto my feet. Fortunately, everyone was okay, so I got back on and continued riding.

#3—Spectacular dismount: Each spring and fall, Maxine and I compete in trail competitions held in our hometown. Every show gets bigger and bigger—the log tangles more technical, the hills steeper, and the step ups higher.

This past spring, there was one particular obstacle of which I wasn't too fond—a step-up that came out of a water box. What I didn't like about this obstacle was the fact that the first step was only about eight inches deep, then there were three for four rock stairs in succession. Had these elements been separate, I would have barely noticed them. However, put them together and add water, and things get tricky. Because the stairs were so close to the obstacle, the animal has less room to move, creating (in my mind) a much higher step than intended. Plus, only the first few animals would have dry ground to work with. After that, it would get increasingly muddy.

Fortunately, we bypassed the obstacle on the first day. On the second day, we were instructed to ride down the steps and into the water. After a talk with my trainer, I decided to bypass the obstacle and take a zero on the score pad. Sure, some might call me a sissy, but my intuition was screaming that this was a bad idea, so I listened. In fact, I bypassed a couple more obstacles that day—and I was on the verge of tears most of the day because of it.

No, I'm not competitive at all. *roll eyes*

On the final day, the course called for us to ride up the step. I was wary, but knowing that it's easier to go up hill than down hill, I considered taking the obstacle.

The step was one of the first obstacles in the pattern. I rode calmly up to the approach. Our entrance into the water box was perfect. With a right haunch turn, we were facing the step.

Maxine paused for a moment to assess. My mind quickly went into action and I had second thoughts. Intuition said to turn away, but it was too late—Max raised her front hooves onto the step.

Personal observation: I don't know exactly what happened after that, but I've pieced this together from both what I experienced and what I was told by onlookers after the fact.

As Maxine moved forward, her rear hoof slipped on the wet timber. She fell back on her haunches and rolled onto her left side. Like a broken record, I once again heard, "get your feet out of the stirrups and get off," repeating in my mind. With my eyes open, I rolled to the left—once to dismount and again to get as far away from her hooves as possible. Then I jumped to my feet and yelled, "I'm okay, I didn't hit my head!"

Maxine scrambled to her feet and was caught by the judge's scribe, after ceremoniously stepping on my hat. I patted Max on the shoulder, lead her to the judge, and said, "Let's check to see if she's okay."

"Oh, it's always about the mule, isn't it," he replied with concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I smiled. "I didn't hit my head, just rolled onto my hip. I'll have a bruise for sure, but I'm more worried about her."

After we were certain she didn't have any scrapes, lacerations, or lameness, I found a rock, hopped back on to a round of applause, and finished the course as an Official Cowgirl.


Photo: Me and Maxine (and my smashed hat) during our in-hand trail class, which was fortunately scheduled after the class in which we fell. This gave me an opportunity to calmly rebuild her trust of the course.

My Baby is Better than Yours

When I hear my friends talk about how their human babies are starting to crawl or pull themselves to their feet at however-many-months-old, I always want to say, "My baby could walk over a bridge, haunch turn, and back up by the time she was one-month old."

It's not that I want to overshadow their success stories. I just want to share my glory along with them. Fortunately, I know when to bite my tongue, because some people just don't seem to appreciate when you compare their babies to a mule—no matter how accurate the similarities may be.

Thankfully, I have friends who not only understand, they are eager to help with her upbringing.

Just a month after Madge was born, my friend Emily took her for a spin. Emily has been riding with my trainer for years and—though she will deny this—is an exquisite rider. She has a special relationship with Fig (Madge's mom), so my trainer asked if she would be the first to pony Madge.

While Emily tacked up, I held Madge close so that Fig didn't think we were trying to steal her away. Then we were off to the orchard.

Personal observation: An orchard is a wonderful place to ride on a hot day. We don't have an arena where I train, so we regularly ride in the orchard. It's quite romantic—and teaches good steering skills!

While Emily and Fig did a couple of warm-up laps, Madge received her first lesson in, "Stand. Good girl." Madge let out a deep soft bray each time her mother passed, but remained relatively quiet for such a young girl. Plus, it was the first time I'd her her speak—so cute!

Personal observation: Actually, her lesson sounded more like this... "Stand. Whoa. Back, back. Whoa. Stand. Uh, uh, uh, back. Whoa. Stand. *pause* Good girl!" And repeat.

It wasn't long before Fig was ready. I handed the lead to Emily, and off they went. What a pair! A big white American Warmblood with a jet-black baby in tow. Needless the say, the camera ran out of batteries that day!

Personal observation: While an orchard is perfect for riding, it's horrible for photography. Too many shadows!

My trainer and I watched and giggled as Madge adjusted to her new situation. We oohed and awed over her lovely gaits. We discussed future rides and ribbons.

When it was time to return to the barn, I proudly took the line and led Madge back to the stall that she and Fig shared. I couldn't have asked for anything more from her first lesson.

Photo: Madge (one-month old), Emily, and Fig take their first lesson together.

I Knew I Had Been Blessed

Let me tell you a little secret. Just four years ago, I looked my horsey friend in the eye and said, "I don't ever want to have a foal. It would be too much work!"

Boy, did I eat those words!

When my trainer called in early 2008, to offer me a breeding with her mare and a local jack, I was surprised when I didn't instantly say, "No way!" What was I, a three-year equestrian whose husband would likely be laid off in mere months do to the economy, going to do with a bratty, time-consuming, expensive foal?

But, I was intrigued. My trainers mare is not only gorgeous, she's eager and reliable, with a mind for work. The jack was kind, strong, and easy-going. I knew this wasn't going to be some backyard pairing. My trainer had chosen the pair to breed a mule for herself, but circumstances placed this offer in my lap, and so wasn't going to make the decision lightly.

Something was telling me this was something I needed to do—but was I crazy?

I called a horsey friend, hoping she would convince me this was a bad idea. Nope. "That would be so cool" she exclaimed. "You'd totally be able to train her yourself, so you'd always know what experiences she'd had throughout her life." Damn, that's a good point.

That night, I spoke with my husband. We don't have the kind of marriage where we have to ask one another about every purchase, but this wasn't like buying a chair. His opinion was important to me, especially with his job situation. I was certain he would convince me it was a bad idea. Nope. "I know you're really into this," he said. "If this is something you want to do, I'm behind you 100 percent."

Personal observation: Yes, I know I have the best husband in the world. I must remind myself to tell him that.

It seemed that everyone thought I should buy this breeding, and I was starting to believe it.

Personal observation: I will admit, I didn't call my parents for guidance on this matter. They're far to realistic and might have brought me to my senses. By this point, I wasn't going to take a chance with them!

As I mulled over the decision, a little voice was telling me that this was the right thing to do. All my doubts were melting away.

Sure, I don't have a lot of equine experience, but I train endlessly, I listen thoughtfully, and I learn quickly. More importantly, I know when I'm stuck or in over my head. I know when to ask for, and accept, help. Plus, the foal would be boarded at my trainer's barn, so we'd be under her watchful eye, 24/7.

We don't have a lot of money, but who does these days. Heck, a mule is much cheaper than a baby. You should hear what my friends pay for daycare! Funny how folks never say, "If you need money, why don't you just sell your baby?" *eye roll*

I called my trainer to say I was on board. The next day, she wrote me a contract and I wrote her a check. Within a month, the mare was in foal and I received her first sonogram photo. Finally, I could torture all of the mothers at work with my very own sonogram photo!

I spent the next year trying be realistic about the outcome of our deal. It was the mares first pregnancy, so the chance for difficulty was higher than normal. Despite a good mare/jack match, we had no idea what she would produce. Would I be blessed with a level-headed beauty or be forced to love a blunt-nosed idiot? For more than a year I waited for my foal to arrive, and when she did...

I knew had been blessed.

Photo: One-month-old Madge, after her first body-clip.

The Beginning of a Love/Hate Relationship

A few weeks ago, Maxine got to meet her sister, face-to-face. How did it go, you ask? Exactly as expected—Maxine checked her out for a moment. Then, in true alpha-mare style, she nipped at her nose, undeniably establishing her dominance.

Personal observation: Way to tell her who's boss, Max. I wouldn't expect any less.

Frankly, I'm quite pleased the relation started on that note. My trainer and I have already agreed that Maxine is going to make a great role model for Madge. Max doesn't put up with any behavior that out of line. I've even seen her look disgusted when another horse grabs a bite while wearing a bit. I fully expect her to be Yoda to young Jedi Madge.

Photo: Madge and Max see eye-to-eye... for a moment.

Yay! She's Not Stupid!

As we spent three days trying to get little Madge to drink, one question loomed in all of our minds: "Is she just that stupid?" We can now say confidently: "No, she's not stupid!" At two weeks old, Madge crossed her first bridge, on the first try, with no help from her equine mother.

In fact, we prepared ourselves for a scene when we took the two out that day for the first time. We soon found that we had no need to worry. As we created distance between mother and daughter, Madge snorted, "Whatever. I don't need her. I'm a BIG girl." To which, Mom replied, "Oooo, fresh grass!"

It doesn't get easier than that!



Photo: Madge bravely crosses the bridge.

No! Not My iPod!

I've been told that a mule has the brain capacity of a two-year-old child and I believe it! When my friends talk about their kids, I find it hard not to begin comparing them to my mules. The funny thing is, they are so like children that it's hard for me not to make the comparison!

Take Maxine for example. She was my first "child," so she'll always be my favorite. However, now that Madge has entered the picture, I can't spend all of my time with Maxine. I have to devote time to Madge so that she grows up to be a respectable "adult." Unfortunately, that doesn't make my jealous girl very happy.

What makes matters worse is that Madge and Maxine live across the stall aisle from one another. Therefore, Maxine gets to watch every minute that I spend with Madge. Every second that I'm with the little one, Max spends pacing, cribbing, pinning her ears, and rattling the walls. Ignoring her has been pretty successful, and a quick pop on the nose helps.

One day, however, she got the best of me.

Before I left for home, I walked down to the barn to say good-bye to the girls. When I arrived, I noticed that Madge's mommy didn't look so hot. She was lying on the ground, and her eyes had lost their sparkle. I also noticed that Madge was jumping all over her and she giving her what for like she normally would. Suspicious, I headed back up to the house to tell my trainer what was up.

When my trainer saw her mare, she said, "I don't like the look of this. We should get her walking. We'll need to take Madge out with her. Can you stay and do that?"

Stay? Of course!

I set my purse down on the cabinet in the stall aisle, haltered Madge, and headed out of the barn with my trainer and her mare. For the next 40 minutes, we watched the mare graze and poop.

Personal observation: I've never paid so much attention to poop until I got a mule. "When was the last time she pooped? Is it hard? Is it soft? Is it oily? Is it dry?" If my non-horsey friends heard some our conversations, they'd think I was nuts. Of course, I've heard pregnant friends discussing dilation and afterbifth (ick!), so I guess we're even. I'll stick to poop talk, thank you very much!

Confident that the mare was probably having a hard heat cycle, which was more uncomfortable than life-threatening, we headed back to the barn. On the way, we ran into my trainer's dad.

"Hey, I'll tell you a secret about Max if you promise not to kill her," he quiped.

"Um, I promise," I replied.

"While you were gone, she turned over your purse," he explained with a twinkle in his eye. "I picked everything up and put it on a bucket for you. Should be all there."

"Figures," I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the warning."

As we walked into the barn, I saw the pile of belongings on the bucket. Everything looked in order, so I packed the items in my poop-stained purse with a laugh and patted Max on the head. I totally understood her frustration. After reasuring her that she'll always be my "number one" mule and reminding her that our campout—without little sister—was only weeks away, I headed home.

Personal observation: I thought for a moment about apologising to my trainer's dad for the Tampons that were in my purse, but I figured it was best left unsaid.

The next morning, I returned for lessons. The wranglers were still cleaning stalls when I arrived, so I decided to help. Maxine is a horrible housekeeper. Even though I pay full board, I like to help whenever I can, so I grabbed a pitchfork and headed her way.

As I forked out the mucky mess, I spotted a strange, black object. Leaning over, I pulled the mass out of the mess. As I picked it up, I began to realize...

"Oh, crap! It's my iPod!"

Personal observation: I'd been so amuzed by her antics the night before that I didn't think to take inventory as I repacked my purse.

I wiped the muck off my iPod and pressed the center button to fire it up. Nothing. I hit the reset sequence. Nothing. Still, I hoped for the best. That evening I took it home, cleaned it off, and hooked it up to the charger. Nothing. The final report from the Apple store the next day was that, while it might be fixable, it would probably cost as much or more to repair than to purchase a new model.

Needless to say, I'm now using my old iPod Nano. And, when my friends tell me that I don't understand what it's like to be a parent I tell them that I completely understand. The fact is that the only difference between your kids and mine is that yours will grow out of the terrible twos!

Photo: Maxine vies for attention.

You Can Lead a Mule to a Teet, but You Can't Make Her Drink (Part Four)

Start at the beginning.

Hallelujah! She's got a brain!

My trainer called me at work on Monday morning with the best news ever—one of the wranglers saw Madge nursing! Plus, the mare's milk station was empty, so it's likely that she'd been nursing for quite a while.

A few minutes later, she called again with even better news—she was watching Madge nurse with her own eyes!

Whew!

It sure took a village to start this foal!

• My husband, Travis, patiently tried to help her latch on just hours after birth.
• My trainer's dad faithfully milked the mare and fed Madge when she was hungry.
• My trainer's mom contacted all of her friends and passed on information that gave us hope.
• The mare knew that the feeding tube wasn't working and forced us humans to take the next step.
• I remained patient and trusted my instincts to know when to let her take the bottle on her own.
• My trainer expertly guided every step of the way.

Thanks, everyone!

Personal observation: In all honesty, I found it amusing how quickly this ordeal changed from "three days of hell" to a "blessing in disguise" in my mind. Due to Madge's reluctance to nurse, I was able to spend many hours with her that I wouldn't have otherwise. I gained some wonderful knowledge about the foaling process and dealing with its pitfalls. Plus, I got to know many facets of Madge's multifaceted personally. From what I've seen so far, I think I'm going to have my hands full with her—and I'm looking forward to every minute!

Photo: Madge is now a superstar in the nursing department!

You Can Lead a Mule to a Teet, but You Can't Make Her Drink (Part Three)

Start at the beginning.

On Sunday, I awoke with a renewed heart. I had a feeling something was different.

Knowing that my trainer and family could take care of the first feeding, I put a pan on the stove and started frying up a couple eggs for breakfast. Then the phone rang.

"The Barn" flashed on my caller ID screen.

"This is Jenny."

"Hi, Jenny, this is your trainer."

"How are things going?" I just knew she was calling with good news.

Well..." *pause*

Wait, don't pause! A pause is never a good thing, unless your standing in front of 45 million viewers awaiting your fate on "American Idol."

"We had a tiny problem last night," she continued as I tried to focus on my frying eggs. "The mare pulled out the feeding tube. We tried all of the feed stores down here, but they're closed for Mother's Day. Would you be able to pick up a bottle on the way down today? We can't feed her until you get here."

"Absolutely," I said, relieved that her news was not the end I'd been dreading. "I'll be down in about an hour."

Personal observation: One of the things I'm most thankful for when it comes to my trainer is that she and her family do not overreact to situations. Yes, I could've rushed out of the house and gotten there sooner, but then I'd go hungry and be less effective all day. After all this time, I knew an extra 30 minutes wasn't going to kill the baby.

After a quick breakfast, I went to the feed store for a bottle and headed down to the barn. When I arrived, we began the ritual of milking the mare. Then I poured the milk in the bottle and snapped on the nipple.

I held out the bottle for Madge. She was curious about this new object, but she wasn't really sure of it's purpose. Gently, I pushed it into her mouth, but it was difficult to get the milk out without her help. I grabbed my knife from my belt and cut the opening in the nipple so that is was wide enough to let milk out with a squeeze of the bottle. Now I could drip it onto her lips in hope that she'd be drawn to the taste. Unfortunately, she wasn't. To make matters more difficult, she wanted to lick the milk from the bottle rather than suck on the nipple.

Determined to get some food into her tiny stomach, I pushed the bottle into the side of her mouth and squeezed the milk down her throat so she was forced to drink it. She wasn't too thrilled with our efforts. As she struggled against us, I held the bottle in her mouth. She chewed on the nipple in vein. We could actually hear her back teeth grinding as she chewed—they had already broken through the gums.

"Momma, I think you cooked her too long," my trainer said laughingly to the mare.

After about 40 minutes of continuous struggle, we convinced Madge to drink most of the milk in the bottle. It was time for a rest—for everyone involved—so we headed up to the house for lunch.

A few hours later, we came down for another attempt. While she still wasn't wholly amenable to the bottle, this time she was making an attempt to suck on the nipple. Still, we had to hold her in the corner to keep the bottle in her mouth. After 20 minutes, she'd drank the bottle and we called it good.

Later that evening, my trainer and I went down for the next feeding. We hadn't fed her as much that day because we hoped that a hungry stomach might lead to a success story. My trainer's dad hadn't made it down to the stall yet, so I milked the mare and filled the bottle. I reached for her halter and then stopped.

"You know, she doesn't really like to have this forced into her mouth, so she spends more energy fighting us than drinking. I think she's got the idea by now. What if I just hold out the bottle this time and see if she'll come to it?" I asked my trainer.

"That's a good idea. Go ahead and try it."

With fingers crossed behind my back, I squeezed the bottle to get the milk flowing and held it up to her mouth. After a short investigation, she took the bottle and began to suck down the milk. My trainer's mom had arrived by this point and we all stood in awe as Madge eagerly sucked the entire bottle full of milk.

That evening I went home with renewed hope that Madge would soon find the buffet. I fell asleep with my fingers crossed.

Photo: Madge begins to figure out that nipple = milk = yummy = full tummy!

You Can Lead a Mule to a Teet, but You Can't Make Her Drink (Part Two)

On Saturday morning, I dragged myself out of bed. Since I hadn't received a call from the barn, I was most certain that Madge hadn't begun nursing on her own. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw my trainer's dad milking the mare when I arrived.

Dang.

I quickly entered the stall to help. Again, we tried to coax Madge to the teet, but she would have nothing to do with it as long as we were helping her out. "I can do it myself!" she'd stomp and walked away. "Just leave me alone!" And so, we did.

I'd like to say that the day was a success, that she suddenly figured out the way of the world and took her first drink, but it wasn't. I'd like to say I remained optimistic, but I struggled at times to keep my chin up. A bright spot came when my trainer's mom reported that she'd just received an e-mail from a friend who said that she once had a donkey that went eight days before latching on to the mare. The donkey grew up with no other physical or mental issues. There was hope!

In fact, there was a second bright spot in our tiresome day. Despite our previous concerns about her intelligence level, we began to observe that Madge is a vary capable mule. At my trainer's suggestion, we backed up our commands with the cues she'd be expected to follow throughout her life. By the end of the day, she was beginning to recognize that "cluck" means forward and "back" means backup. She also caught on to the concept of moving away from pressure. As an added bonus, she was already halter trained because of the feeding tube.

After a long day of feeding, I started the long drive home. I was tired, but hopeful that the next day would bring about a new change, and it did—just not the one we were hoping for.

Photo: Madge makes a friend, despite the disfiguring tape that holds her feeding tube in place.

You Can Lead a Mule to a Teet, but You Can't Make Her Drink (Part One)

Last Friday, May 8, my trainer called me at 7:45 a.m. to let me know that after more than a year of waiting, (I made the deal before the breeding took place) my foal had finally arrived. "It's a girl!" she cried into the phone. We'd been crossing our fingers that the baby would be a mare. Heck, we even outfitted the pregnant mother with a pink halter. Never underestimate the power of suggestion!

Thankful that my boss is flexible, hopped in the car and high-tailed it down to the barn, about 20 minutes away. I had a hunch this might be the weekend the birth would take place, so I'd finished that week's newsletter early, just in case.

When I arrived at the barn, the mare was on her feet and I could see Madge's tall, dark legs on the other side. There were, however, two other feet—human feet, one on either side of her. Upon closer inspection, I realized that they belonged to my trainer's dad. As I came closer, it became apparent that he was doing all he could to get little Madge to latch on to the nipple while the mare stood calmly above. I'd like to say that she latched on then and there, but she didn't. Finally it came time for him to leave for work, so we decided to give Madge a break.

It was obvious she was hungry. She suckled all over that mare—mostly between her front legs. This little filly simply wasn't born with a map to the buffet! Oddly enough, my trainer mentioned that she'd already drank water from the bucket. "Could this have bypassed her suckling response?" my trainer questioned aloud. We'd just have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I asked if I could go in to clean the stall. I knew that we ultimately didn't want too overwhelm the baby, so this would be the perfect chance to get near her. I climbed over the wall so we didn't chance an open-door escape. Knowing that I might frighten the little one with the pitch fork, I started slowly clearing hay from the stall. As I worked it became apparent that Madge was not a timid gal. She came right over for a gentle scratch behind the ears while Mom stood over us, protectively. By the time I was finished cleaning the stall, I was tossing hay and lightly brushing her with the plastic fork. She took it all in stride.

It was then time for me to head back to work, so I said my good-byes and headed out the door. For the next four hours, I waited for news that Madge had latched on to start feeding, but word never came. I knew that if she didn't start eating by noon, the vet was going to be called out. It was now 2:15 p.m. and I still hadn't received any promising news, so I high-tailed it back to the barn again.

When I arrived, I saw that my husband's truck was there. Not knowing when the baby would arrive, I'd planned on giving him a lesson in trailer pulling that day. Instead, he'd been enlisted to continue the task of getting Madge to take her first meal of healthy colostrum.

Personal observation: I have to admit, knowing that he was experiencing this bonding time with the baby made my heart beam. Travis is your typical horse husband—he goes along for the ride, but it's not really his first choice of activities. He'd much rather be playing baseball. Still, he comes along for the occasional lesson, has shown in one show (in which he won In-hand Novice Champion—thanks, Max!), and loves Maxine dearly.

Travis guided Madge with a gentle hand, but she would have none of it. She was starting to show a key component in her personality—"Don't help me, I can do it myself!" After a good college try, Travis came out of the stall so Madge could rest.

Around 3:00 p.m., the vet pulled up. We use a fabulous local vet who has a down-to-earth personality and years of valuable experience. My trainer quickly shared her concern that this might be a dummy foal, a term I'd never heard before this weekend. After a thorough examination, the vet gave us the diagnosis... she was definitely not a dummy foal, she was just a little slow at picking this up. I asked if this was in any way linked to her intelligence (or lack there of) and he answered, with a twinkle in his eye, "Well, let's just say it can only get better from here."

Once we had that cleared up, he inserted a stomach tube down Madge's nose. This would allow us to feed her. Because the tube entered her nose rather than her mouth, she would still be able to nurse if she ever figured it out—our ultimate goal.

Madge was now a sorry sight. In addition to the tube in her nose, she now sported vet wrap around her face and neck, and was fitted with a halter to hide the rest of the tube so that the mare would be less able to pull it out. So much for a day of pretty baby photos.

After milking a pint from the mare, the vet poured the warm liquid into Madge's feeding tube. He instructed us we should do the same every two hours until 10:00 p.m. "At 10:00 the kitchen closes," he added. "She won't learn to eat on her own if she's not hungry." It was a relief to hear that we wouldn't have to discuss who would be stuck with overnight duty.

For the rest of the day, we continued our unsuccessful quest to latch Madge onto the mare's teet. I went home at 8:30 that night, tired and sore from kneeling down to help Madge and milk the mare. We crossed our fingers that she'd figure it out by morning.

Photo: Madge receives dinner in bed.

FLASHBACK (September 2005): Buyer Beware! (Part Two)

Read part one.

I was so excited the next day. My trainer's dad was scheduled to pick up Donk around noon and I'd head out after work to give him a try.

As soon as I arrived at the barn, my trainer said, "I know you're eager to try him out. Why don't you bring him around and tack him up where I can observe. Based on what we've seen, I think you can ride him first."

Wow! I wouldn't even need anyone to warm him up for me! So cool!

Personal observation: My trainer is incredibly safety conscious—something I love. However, there was a point I thought I'd never get to ride a mule that hadn't been warmed up by someone else. Fortunately, those times have passed.

After grabbing the new halter I'd just bought, I headed down to the barn where Donk was waiting in a tie stall. When I turned the corner, I noticed something odd. His eyes weren't soft and friendly like they were the night before. Now they were sharp and alert. As I quietly moved in to put on a stud chain, he began to pace back and forth. Not a good sign. Convinced it was something I was doing, I asked another rider with much more experience to come over to assist.

"Am I doing something wrong?" I asked.

"No," she said matter-of-factly. "He shouldn't be doing that."

She expertly inserted the stud chain in the halter, and we were off to tack up.

Personal observation: I always lead with a stud chain on my mule. Why? Because I'm no match for 1,000 pounds of equine with attitude, and no matter how fabulous an animal is, there are always days when they have attitude. For those days, I like to have my tools ready. Besides, the way Donk was acting, I wasn't going to take a chance.

Back in the yard, I tied Donk to a tree and began to saddle him up. Though I wasn't experienced enough to recognize it at the time, he was very cinchy. His back balled up and he was tense as a rattler about to strike. Once, when asking him to move away from me with a gentle "over" and a soft cue, he startled and quickly stepped away as if I'd slapped him with a reign.

"Um, If you don't mind, I think I'll have one of the wranglers ride him down a bit before you get on," my trainer suggested.

"By all means," I replied. Novice or no, I knew something was up. Donk was not behaving in the calm manner that I'd become used to with my trainer's animals. I was more than happy to let a wrangler "take the fall" as it were.

As my friends and I stood watch, the wrangler prepared to mount from the ground. As his weight settled into the stirrup, Donk reared up and slowly spun away.

"Yeah. Why don't we pony him down a bit before...," my trainer trailed off. "On second thought, why don't we put up, and tomorrow Dad will take him back where he came from."

"Sounds like a plan," I replied.

Personal observation: I wasn't really sad that night—Donk was too ugly to get sad over—but I know I was a little let down. Later, while talking with my trainer, we came to the conclusion that Donk had likely been drugged—both the night we looked at him and the day that her dad picked him up. It was the best explanation for his droopy appearance and seemingly inexplicable mood changes.

Why a person would be foolish enough to agree to a two-week trial for a mule that was drugged I'll never know. Maybe they thought that I'd simply fall in love with him and blame his faults on my inexperience. Fortunately, I had the support of those with experience enough to help me make the safe choice. I only wish every novice was so fortunate.

After my lesson that evening (on a much safer mule), I went to dinner with Travis. After dinner, he did something I never would've expected. He bought me a gorgeous black and white Paint mare—from Toys-R-Us.

Photo: Donk gets tacked up by his owner. What a looker! I just don't know why I didn't overlook his shortcomings and fall in love with him on the spot! *tee hee*

Is It All Worth It?--A Follow Up

I went out to the barn today to visit Maxine. We hadn't seen each other since our exciting clinic last Saturday. Frankly, I wanted to give her a break to recuperate.

Because her hooves are a little overdue for the farrier, I decided to tackle a some light groundwork. It wasn't going to be a long session, I just wanted to see what her mood was like.

I'm pleased to say that Maxine was in fine form. She quietly performed her showmanship and maneuvered obstacles similar to those that had given us so much trouble last weekend, such as walking through a tire, and backing through the "L."

In return for her regained work ethic, we spent some time hand grazing on the lawn before I put her to bed for the night with a pile of hay and a healthy helping of grain and yummy herbs.

It's definitely all worth it.

Is It All Worth It?

Last Saturday, my trainer put on a Mountain Trail Clinic, and we were all invited. I was very excited and couldn't wait to take Maxine. The clinic was at another location, so we'd have new obstacles and areas to use for training. There's no better opportunity for fun...

Or so I thought.

I drove down to the barn to pick up Maxine. She's been a little awnry with loading lately (a complete act that I refuse to encourage), so I got my tools ready before I brought her up to the trailer.

Personal observation: I typically trailer alone, so I've had to improvise ways to work this out myself. Basically, I run a long lunge line through the blanket holder at the front of the trailer. This allows me to keep forward pressure on her halter and at the same time get back far enough to provide a wee bit of "encouragement" with the whip. It works every time with Maxine in under a minute. However, I'm not sure if it would work with your equine, so "consult a professional before you try this at home." (That's my fine print for the day.)

Maxine was quickly loaded and we were on our way. After a mile or so with the windows down the listen for unusual trailer noises, I turned up the radio and prepared for a fabulous sunny day with my mule. Unfortunately, there were dark clouds ahead--literally and figuratively.

After an uneventful 40-minute drive, I arrived at the barn, parked the rig, and unloaded Maxine. Folks were already working in hand with their equines--both mules and donkeys--so we wandered over to training area. It was an equine playground , full of ditches, seesaw bridges, tractor tires (both will and without dirt in the middle), poles, snags, and more. What more could a trail competitor ask for?

Knowing that she can easily tread in and around a tractor tire, we headed over to one that was full of dirt for an easy start.

Jenny: "Cluck... Step up."

Maxine: "No."

Giving the benefit of the doubt: "Cluck... Step up."

Maxine: "I don't feel like it."

Third time's the charm: "Cluck... Step up... Tap."

Maxine: "You can't make me." *roll eyes*

Personal observation: Mom, if I was ever like this as a child (and I know I was) I apologize profusely.

I don't think so: "Cluck... Step up... Whack!"

Maxine: "Hey! Fine, I'll go. But I won't like it!"

Me: "See, that wasn't so hard. Now stand there while you're crazy Mother takes a few pictures."

After her photo shoot, I cued her off the tire. On the way down, Maxine thought that the best place to put her hooves was safely on my toes. Ouch! I think someone has respect issues, so we tried again. This time she was encouraged to step down politely and after on the third try she even stopped to pose for a photo at the midway point. I had won the battle, but it was only the first of many.

For the rest of the day, Maxine fought and struggled with every obstacle. Our biggest battle was the muddy ditch. My attempt from the saddle was unsuccessful, so I hopped down the try a little ground work under the watchful eyes of my trainer.

After a bit of butt weaving, she trod into the ditch while I walked next to her on the side. One step, two steps, three steps...

"I'm scared!" she cried, silently, as she thrust herself out of the ditch, pushing me backward and kicking my ankle in the process. I was none too happy and quickly let her know with a swift jerk of her stud chain. Only then did I check my ankle for broken bones. Once I was sure eveything was in place, we tromped back to the ditch.

Personal observation: Maxine once mildly strained a tendon in a muddy ditch, so I understand her hesitation. However, she must learn that Mommy knows best and running her over is never the solution.

As we entered the ditch a second time, Max hesitated and looked for an escape route. I sensed her hesitation this time and before she could make a break for it, I popped her up side the nose. Surprised, she stood her ground and then settled down. Lick, chew, lick, chew. Scared my ass (no pun intended).

We slowly finished our journey through the 20-foot ditch, halting a few times along the way for emphasis. Once we were through, we did it once more for good measure. This time, Maxine was an angel--another battle won.

I'd like to say that from then on Maxine was a gem--she wasn't. She continued to struggle with elementary obstacles. My only concession is that she was in a flaming heat cycle and the weather was definitely wonky. Excuses, I know, but these things do affect our equine friends.

Finally, knowing that I had accomplished all that I could for the day, I untacked Maxine and headed back to the clinic on foot, leaving her to quietly graze by the trailer. After saying my good-byes, I loaded Maxine and headed back to the barn.

I wish I could say that I had a fun day, but I didn't. I did, however, have a day filled with small personal victories. Not only did I win every battle with Maxine, I also helped others get through their own battles. It's wonderful to know that I'm now one of the trusted hands who's often called on to give assistance, rather than a complete novice who's constantly in need of assistance. It's definitely all worth it.

Personal observation: Not a complete novice, but still a novice.

Photo: Maxine patiently waits for me to take a photo.

Whatever You Do, Please Don't Run Under Her Belly!

As many of you already know, I'm expecting a baby this spring. A baby mule, that is. I'm very excited about the prospect of owning a mule that I handle from day one. Of course, having never done this before, I've asked my trainer to do whatever she can to help me (and Maxine) prepare for the task.

Three weeks ago, when I was taking Maxine through a light workout, the perfect training situation came out of the blue. My trainer was training a mini-donkey yearling, Jen-ai. Let me tell you, this little jenny is a spit-fire. Jen-ai is has a lot of buck for such a little girl. Noticing that she had quite a bit of spunk, but wasn't quite getting the whole "I go you go" deal, I asked my trainer if she'd like me to pony her. Yes, she replied eagerly.

I took the lead rope, looped it once around my saddle horn, and set off with Maxine--little Jen-ai dragging behind. Fortunately, it only took a second for her to learn that it was much easier to walk than be pulled and she quickly fell in next to Maxine.

And then she got a mind of her own. She bucked when she saw mud. She tried to go under Maxine's belly. And, each time we got in sight of her barn she'd try to run past Maxine.

I was there to tell her "No," but my work was made easier by Maxine, who had entered the Mother Zone. Each time she "spoke out of turn," Maxine would turn and give her a look that put her back in her place. Once or twice she even gave Jen-ai a quiet, but stern, bray to show her who's boss.

Once, Jen-ai ran right in front of Maxine. Scared she might get trampled I pulled the reins to "Whoa," but Max was one step (or halt) ahead of me. She instinctively came to a stop. As she turned to Jen-ai and then to me, I could clearly read the look on her face--"silly kids." I'm positive she even rolled her eyes.

In the end, Jen-ai got the picture and set about to show that she will eventually have manners. Not bad for her first time with a big girl.

I was overjoyed with Maxine's response to the situation. While Max is not the mother ofmy future mule, I envision her taking a strong role in her training--showing her what it means to be a good mule. She's once again proven that I can count on her to keep the little one in line.

Of course, we had so much fun that we've been ponying minis almost every weekend since. It won't be long before the baby's here, so we'll take all the practice we can get!

Photo: Maxine and I ponying Buzz, a mini-donkey. Buzz is so named because he has so much energy that it's as if he's on a caffeine buzz! This was his first time with the big girls and he took to it well.

Patience is a Virtue...

It's been three months since Maxine's freakish food grabbing/ tendon injuring incident and I'm finally back in the saddle again. She was looking pretty good in December, but I decided to wait until early January before putting her back to work. I didn't want to take any chance that I'd reinjure her leg.

The first weekend started slow.

I went out on Friday and jogged her around the driveway. And I mean that literally--I ran next to her for lap after lap to so she could loosen up her weakened muscles without my weight on her back.

The next day, I ponied her off of Hazel. To my surprise, she really enjoyed walking with Hazel. She doesn't typically like ponying or being ponied by horses or mules, but, Hazel is a donkey, so that's entrely different. *roll eyes* Silly girl.

The next weekend I gently climed aboard and took her for a light workout--mostly walking with a couple of laps at a trot here and there. Since she really needs to build up her back muscles, I started taking her through a lot of bending exercises. I also toss in some haunch turns and backing up a slight incline to build up her hind end.

The slow re-entry phase has payed off. This is her fourth weekend back under saddle and I'm really starting to feel her get her strength back. Her hind end isn't loosey-goosey anymore, her back is really toning up, and she's getting her old power walk back.

Tomorrow, she'll get her first trail workout at Elijah Bristow State Park. We've been there a few times. The park has a nice flat trail that she really enjoys. I'm so looking forward to it!

Photo: Me and Maxine on the trail at Elijah Bristow. This was taken last summer.

Competing at the 2008 National Trail Championship -- The Maxine Perspective

My weekend with Maxine was much different than in years past. She'd cut her leg in a food-grabbing stunt the month before, and I just wasn't sure that she'd be ready for the show.

Playing it safe, I entered her in the In-Hand class only. This turned out to be a wise decision. By the weekend of the show, she was doing well on her own, but I didn't yet want to put my weight on her--especially over those steep hills and drop-downs.

On the first day we entered the ring and made our way through the course. Always the trooper, Maxine explored the trail with ease. We ended the first day in first place!

Our second day didn't go quite as well. On one particular obstacle we were required to cross a ditch. Unfortunately, the ditch wasn't a long one and, convinced it was safer to take the flatter, safer route, she didn't cross the ditch cleanly. Still we forged ahead. We didn't finish in first place that day, but we remained near the top of the pack.

On the third day, I was convinced that we'd tumbled to the bottom of the standings. I thought that Maxine was pushy and rushed over the obstacles. Of course, I always think this and I'm glad to say I'm often wrong. At the end of the day, I found out that I was in the top five. I'd have to wait until the next morning's award ceremony to find out my final standing.

The next morning, I was a wee bit nervous. Before the ceremony, I sang the National Anthem for the crowd. Then I headed down to take Maxine into the ring to await the results. It was a long wait, but they finally got to my class. Mark, the announcer, said that the top three placings were separated by a mere three points. Maxine and I placed third! The horses that placed first and second are stellar In-Hand animals and I was happy to place with such good competition.

Personal observation: However, I can't honestly say that I wasn't disappointed. This was the first year that buckles were handed out at the show. I've never won a buckle and I'm dying to do so. I know there's always next time, but dang it. If I hadn't let Maxine blow that ditch, (we got a six for that obstacle) we would've placed first. I know what I'll be doing this winter--digging a ditch so we can practice, practice, practice.

Of course, no matter what we place, I'm very proud of my girl--we always get a lot of praise from judges, fellow competitors, and spectators alike. I am so happy to be part of a show where nearly everyone is friendly, thoughtful of one another, and genuinely supportive and pleased when other competitors do well. Their support encourages me to continually improve my skills so that I continue to rise to the top in my classes. I always compete with a smile on my face because I truly enjoy these competitions.

Photo: Maxine and I compete in the In-Hand Open class at the Mountain Trail Competition.