The Moose and the Ditch

Our stablehand got the go-ahead to plant a garden at the stable this year (two gardens, actually). It's a gorgeous-looking garden, and doing very well for its location, which unfortunately is right where people ride to get to the first half of the trail. He did leave a nice path to the side of it, but when the rainfall was heavy earlier in the summer, the need for an irrigation ditch cropped up.

By rights, it's a very small ditch. Hardly five inches wide, I'd say. In other words, just the right size for a hoof. Now, the other horses do just fine by it. Some of them balk a little bit or try to go around it, but the majority of them just step over it. Toler? The largest horse at the stable? Who can literally step over a two-foot vertical? Ha.

The first few times we encountered it on a trail ride (marked by an orange cone, so we all know exactly where it is), Toler looked at as he approached, and when he would get to it, he'd have to pause for a moment to think about what to do. Then he'd promptly step into the ditch and "forget" on the way out, much to the continued dismay of his on-board two-legger. This went on for the first six crossings (three trail rides). Every time I would try to get him a little more excited about the idea of stepping over it rather than into it and tripping. And every time he'd think about it and decide that it just wasn't worth the effort.

Until the day before I left town. I hadn't planned on a trail ride, and tacked up in my dressage saddle so we could work on collection and straightness in the outdoor. Plans changed, however, when Toler miraculously peed while I was in the saddle. For those in the audience unaware of our long journey of bladder-confidence, Toler has always been particularly shy about peeing anywhere other than his very-private stall. It's taken two years of whistle-training to get him comfortable with peeing in the arena and occasionally out in the paddock. Since this was only the second time in his entire life that he was comfortable with the idea of stretching out with a rider on his back, it was definitely an occasion to be celebrated. With a nice, relaxing trail ride. And a promise to gallop up the hill, if he wanted.

We started out on the trail, and I began to get him focused on the up-coming ditch. He walked right up to it, looking at it with his usual semi-interested stare, then stopped--like usual. He started to gather himself backward, and I thought for sure he was going to try and weasel out of the situation by backing up, something he likes to do about puddles that he doesn't think are worth splashing in. I gave him a little tap of my heels and an annoyed push with my seat. Then he did something completely out of character.

He folded back onto his haunches, and with one smooth push, all four hooves were off the ground at once.


He landed on the other side--five inches away--promptly stretched out his neck, and sighed. Le champion du monde! Okay, okay, so we're not Spanish dressage masters, but hey, now I know how to teach him the croupade!

Toler's Grand Effort (ditch), combined with his previous Miraculous Bravery (peeing), put him in high spirits for the rest of the trail. We pranced, we nickered at the ladies, we pranced some more, and we kicked our heels up the hill. At crossing number two, Toler started to gather himself up for another Stupendous Effort, but I chuckled and said, "Oh Toler, that's not necessary," with a tsk of my finger on his mane. Discontented, (perhaps I should have played the helpless, foreleg-less damsel again,) he stooped to step over the chasm.

I just can't wait until we come across our very first stream. XD