It has been an interesting day so far, animal-wise. For some reason my Wheaten Marans pullet has a green face. Her skin in that area has changed color. My first impression was that she was choking, but that is not the case, and her behavior is normal---spirited, as usual. The soft tissue under her throat is a little swollen as well. I have yet to find anything on this...maybe she's just eaten something.
I let her and her brethren out of their coop today, since it's so nice, and because the rain has ruined all the hay in the coop. They've already fled the lot and are running around somewhere. Hopefully they'll make it back in and don't vanish! That's how I lost the other half of the Marans. They're not real intelligent, like the Hulseys who leave the lot for hours and sightsee before returning.
While in the chicken lot I moved a couple pens around. Tonight I am going to gather up my Lavender Ameraucana pair, and my Mottled Cochin rooster, my Black Silkie hen and my Black Frizzled Cochin hen and lock 'em up. Tomorrow I'll find a bucket or tub to make a nest. All of these birds are old enough, typically, to lay, but only the silkie has laid eggs so far. She is the same age as the cochins.
My Marans, my Blue Orpington hen, my Hulseys, and my White Ameraucana hen will all house in the Bantam Coop still. I need to clean out all the coops (and my rabbit's pen) soon, once we're able to get hay from the barn, which is sort of cut off right now because of construction.
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I also got to do some goat-wrangling today. For a long while now, the chicken lot fence has been broken in one area where a tree fell across it. Until this time I never bothered to worry about it, because most of the chickens get out anyway, and there is a barbwire fence. However, today the goats figured out how to get their fat little bellies through the barbwire, and were chillin' in the quail farm. I had to go catch them out, and lodged some a-frames between the trees and the barbwire so they shouldn't be able to get out again. We'll see though.
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I set up my rabbit, Midnight, in a large chicken pen in our yard near our house today, with a bucket nest of hay and pan of water. He's just thrilled, glad to get out on the grass. Yesterday I brought him in to hang out in my bedroom, and he really enjoyed that as well. I scattered marshmellows around for him, and gave him a whole apple, which he munched on periodically. He really loves to have his cheeks massaged, though, and so I mostly lay on the floor with him and read my Kindle while rubbing his face.
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Zelda's foot is looking better today, and I think her antibiotics have finally started to help. At some point in time she ripped open her claw, and it got infected into the quick. Dad suggested that we might have to take her to the vet and have the claw completely removed, but now that it's doing better, I don't know if that'll be necessary.
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How the Sun got its Flame
There was a time, in ancient past, when there was no sun.
In the beginning, there were two moons---the moon of the night, Fain, and the dead moon, called Sol.
The moon Fain was revered as the deity that made life possible, but Sol was useless, and was looked upon as a dark hole in the sky, visible only during “day”, because Fain dominated the sky at all other times.
This age was called the Nought Millennium, as named by the dragon warriors of the West, who lived in the Plains of Fire, where all daylight originated.
These plains burned bright because of the dragons who made their homes there; the dragondust cast from the warriors' scales after mating, along with the egg fragments of their young, fertilized the ground so it grew fiery weeds that overcame every other growth. These grasses were called Char, and consisted of magic. Since Char produced no warmth, it was prized for its light only, which eventually became so consuming that it lit the whole world during what is now called “day”, and only “day” because when Fain came out, the Char plants faded and rested as their dragon sires slept.
Char existed only in the Plains of Fire, for only here did the dragon warriors of the West lie. Journeymen came from all around to try and harvest the Char, but to no avail, for soon as it was cut from the ground, it shriveled into ash. So these journeymen attempted to grow it by planting dragon eggs, and seeding their fields with dragondust, but instead of beautiful Char, thorny black brambles grew. These brambles were hard to manage, persistent, and worthless. They were despised, and became known as Barbwier.
So Char was exclusive to the dragons of the West, who prized its light, because they remembered the tales of their forefathers (the dragons of the North) of when the world was all dark---and the dragon warriors of the West could think of nothing worse than complete night. For while the dragons of the West were powerful and intelligent, they stood nothing against Fain and the dark, because when night fell, the Western dragons had to sleep. Without the light of their Char, they would be forced to sleep for eternity, and should they sleep for eternity, Char would be gone and the whole world would be plunged into darkness. So everybody was content with the arrangement, even though the men and elves still wished to secure some Char for themselves.
This age was known for its peace, up until the time an Eastern dragon named Kismet was born. Eastern dragons were very different compared to their Western counterparts. The dragon warriors of the East were the descendents of Southern drakons, creatures that thrived in the dark, rather than the light. Whenever the Char lit up the sky, the Eastern dragons were forced to sleep.
Kismet longed to destroy the Plains of Fire, so his kind could have continuous night. However, he knew that the only way he could destroy the Char was to kill all the Western dragon warriors, so he built up an army, and before the twilight hour, when the Char would begin to burn and the Western dragons would awake, his battalion set out to the Plains.
His warriors succeeded in destroying all of the Western dragons, because even though they were being murdered, they could not wake up from their slumbers and retaliate, as long as Fain was in the sky.
Once the last of his enemies were slain, Kismet and his army gathered in the sky; but before they could set off to return home, Sol rose in the sky. Kismet was not worried, after all, Sol was a dead moon, and posed no threat to his kind.
But then Sol blazed, a light so furious that all Eastern dragons in the air were instantly disintegrated, for they were too close to the fire. Sol was alive.
When the dragons of the West had been killed, the dead moon had caught their souls as they floated up to heaven, and absorbed them into its vacant bulk. There had been so many souls, the moon Sol had broken out in Char, Char so bright and powerful it actually burned---burned with the hate of the Western dragons, who had trusted the Eastern warriors for all of the Nought Millennium, only to be betrayed in the end. And so, even though the Western dragons had been killed, their want for revenge blazed on after their deaths in the moon Sol, who shared the sky equally with Fain from then on.
But the Plains were forever mutilated, and the Char was gone forever. From then on, the old home of the Western dragons was called the Plains of Dead Fire, and remained covered in inhospitable ash for all eternity, and no living thing was ever able to live there again.
The Possession of Tommy Meeks
In an anonymously-written book somewhere it is stated, 'He who speaks in alien tongues, is either very smart, very not, or an alien.'
But because being an alien is such an unlikely occurrence, when Tommy Meeks started babbling on about concurring earth, the human population just assumed he was b) very not smart.
Concurring earth is such an alien idea, isn't it? What human representation of an alien doesn't want to enslave all of mortal kind, and infest earth? How come his own parents, Dad, and Miss Halie, didn't think something was wrong? Well, maybe because Tommy was such a nerd. Even before he was...err...possessed, he was usually running his mouth about the little green men from mars, and talking about well-known conspiracy theorists that the rest of the world had labeled as loonies to be put away in asylums for their own safety, and the safety of the society at large. So when his brain was invaded by an extraterritorial apparently trying to destroy humankind, his parents weren't really alarmed by his behavior. He was acting, sadly, no different than he had the past five years of his nine-year-old existence.
The alien that had made home in him was called Nar'grog'zim, pronounced exactly like it looks. Typical, alien name. In fact, this young Spawn was the typical alien child. Unnoticed by his peers, uncared for by his friends, and unappreciated by his parents, who were well-known Bloodies---aliens that had spare mouths on the back of their heads, used to suck the blood of their victims. Nar'grog'zim had been born without a mouth on the back of his head---an unbearable shame. His career...gone, before he could even get a start at it.
He was a dead-weight to the alien race, which was small and weak to begin with. They were a new species, the miracle offspring of toxic waste and space spiders. Their whole race had only been alive for a couple of decades. Luckily, they aged quickly, and had around a thousand members, with more being born all the time, the little marvels. Except for him, of course, he didn't have an extra mouth.
So Nar'grog'zim was sentenced to death---doomed to be fed to his elderly (thirty-year-old) grandmother, who was too weak and sickly to hunt humankind on earth, but still needed fresh blood to survive. The family had discussed this lengthily while he was in his bedroom sulking, and had decided that the puny grandmother was more use alive than he was. Nar'grog'zim figured out his parents' intentions when they told him that he would be bringing cookies over to old granny Aerie'zim, who in fact, didn't like cookies. But he knew he had to escape, and decided that the best time to run away would be during the walk to his grandmother's hut. He took the cookies, and left the house, knowing that it would be the last time he would ever see it.
Halfway to his granny's, Nar'grog'zim threw the cookies (they were burnt anyhow) to the neighbor's tamed rat, and made a break for it.
Somehow, he managed to board a cruiser of Bloodies headed to earth by disguising himself as his father. He did this by stealing a lady's mascara and panting moles all over his face, and wearing a hood to cover the back of his head. Everybody on the planet knew that he, Nar'grog'zim, had no mouth on the back of his skull (he was the only one alive, the others had already been killed, fed to family members, or pet rats, likely), and if he was spotted as himself, he would have no chance of escape.
Once on earth, he quickly possessed a young human boy---the first one he saw. He'd had this gift all of his life, and as far as he knew, he was the only alien able to use it. Maybe because he had no mouth on the back of his head. Maybe all the other without-second-mouths Spawns were able to use this gift too, but had been killed before they could utilize it.
He'd never know. He wasn't ever going to go back to mars.
Nar'grog'zim lived inside this little human boy for a long, long time. He learned that the boy's name was Tommy Meeks, and that he was a nerd, and talked about aliens a lot. This confused Nar'grog'zim, because nothing mankind said about aliens was true. They weren't green, they weren't small, and they most certainly didn't want to take over earth. If they did, they would have no more humans to feed off of. Of course, if they took over earth, they could keep human prisoners to herd like cattle and keep as food, but that would be too much work. Maybe in a couple of centuries, but certainly not yet.
However, Nar'grog'zim figured that if he suddenly made little Tommy Meeks stop talking about all these alien lies, somebody would begin to suspect that something was wrong with the boy---after all, he appeared to be a world-class nerd. Probably the nerdiest nine-year-old in the world. So Nar'grog'zim talked about destroying earth, crop symbols, and alien comic books, even though he was actually more interested in LEGOs, and Pokemon. Who knew that humans had such cool toys? Nar'grog'zim was glad he'd decided to come to earth and possess a human child. It was fun, and he didn't have to die. That was two major pluses right there.
But Nar'grog'zim still needed to eat. To feed on blood. The human rations he ate as Tommy Meeks were not enough to sustain his alien system, and eventually the family dog had to mysteriously disappear in order for him to remain strong enough to keep possession of the boy's mind, which was always fighting against him. Silly Tommy, didn't he understand that Nar'grog'zim meant no harm to him?
Nar'grog'zim didn't have to feed often, and when he grew hungry he was able to survive semi-well off the blood of animals, but because he had no mouth on the back of his head, it was very hard to properly drain the creatures of their blood. And so a lot was wasted.
At last, he decided that he needed to do something drastic, or he would die. He had to kill a human. Human blood would last him a lot longer than anything else, even if he didn't get much of it. So, one day little Tommy Meeks snuck out of his bedroom window and out into the town alleyways. Before long, they and found a little suburban street called Lark's Rd. And there Tommy Meeks laid in wait behind some shrubberies, until a stray person came strolling down the sidewalk, listening to music through snaky black headphones. Pop, or rap maybe. Something with a snappy beat. The young man moved with jerky movements as he walked, bobbing his head.
Nar'grog'zim leapt from the shrubberies with a length of copper pipe, and whacked the man across the back of the head. He crumbles instantly to the ground, and his headphones fell off, clattering into the street.
After Nar'grog'zim had fed, he returned sneakily to Tommy Meeks's house, which he had started to view as his own. He hadn't left behind the man's headphones or iPod though, and listened to quite a bit of Lady GaGa's Extraterrestrial, and Usher when his parents...grrm...Tommy Meeks's parents were not around.
The police had been unable to figure out what had happened to the man that had been killed on Lark's Rd. His body had been found, deflated like a balloon and surrounded by muddled red stains, on the sidewalk where he'd been struck down, and fiction nerds all around claimed that the man had been killed by a vampire. He'd been drained of blood during the night! It must be a vampire.
Nar'grog'zim heard this, and shook his head. Humans were insane. At last, real proof of an alien was found, and they assumed it was the work of a vampire. They could be no further from the truth.
Did they not know that vampires didn't exist? That would be crazy.
The Legend of the White Horseman and his Steed
A popular folktale among the centaurs was the story of the White Horseman, for the White Horseman was rumored to be the first to foster peace between mankind and the Centaurus.
The legend goes as so: he was born as a weak, frail thing, barely alive. Some say his skin was pale as a vampire's, white and bleached of color. Some say that his eyes were gems of violet, but others disagree.
As the years passed, he remained sickly, barely hanging onto life. But then he was saved. His savior was a foal, a young bay foal with a heart of fire and eyes that held all the answers of life. This foal was gifted, he knew all, and he knew the souls of men. The boy didn't find the foal, the foal came to him. And when their eyes met, so did their consciences, and their minds bonded. The boy was saved, and the two grew up together. In some forms of the legend, the boy's name was Marth, elvish for “Luck”, but usually he was just known as the White Horseman, and his stallion brother was called Ixen, dragonic for “fire”. He was considered to be a creature beyond any other horse, and his origins are unknown. Some believe that he was a godling, descendent of Aerion, the Greek child of Poseidon. But others believe that he was a dragon child, hatched in the womb of a mare bred by a dragon lord, and was then orphaned because his mother perished during his delivery. But nobody knows for sure.
What is agreed upon, however, is the bond between man and stallion. Their communication was practically psychic, and together they both grew strong. Seeing into the eyes of his brother, the White Horseman became a higher being, for it is true that any man becomes a better creature for having once been friends with a horse. The White Horseman learned more of his own race then he would ever have, had he survived infancy, and not met Ixen. He started to see himself set apart from his family, and the rest of mankind. He and Ixen were one, against every other creature. Joined, they were a single deity, apart from anything in creation.
The White Horseman and his brother saw many dark forces in the hearts of their races, among others, and worked to settle many miscommunications that the rest of the world were too blind to see. They could not fix everything, however, and were loathed by some; hated by people who were jealous of their friendship, jealous of their power of insight. They were exiled by many, and at times their exile tore them apart, as did war and other obligations. But never were they apart in mind. Some say the White Horseman learnt the ability to shifte into the form of his steed, and Ixen learnt to shifte into a human body. They accomplished this because they had, in the most intimate way, become each-other.
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My sweet girl, she is so dignified.
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Canter
Thought to be short for "Canterbury gallop".
The western word for canter is the "lope".
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The canter is a controlled, three-beat gait that usually is a bit faster than the average, working trot, but slower than the gallop. The average speed of a canter is between 10–17 mph, depending on the length of the stride of the horse. Listening to a horse canter, one can usually hear the three beats very clearly, as if a drum was beat three times is succession. After the three beats, there is a moment of suspension. The faster the horse is going, the longer the moment of suspension.
In the canter, one of the horse's hind legs – the right hind, for example – propels the horse forward. During this first beat, the horse is supported only on that single leg while the remaining three legs are moving forward. On the next beat the horse catches itself on the left hind and right fore while the other hind leg is still momentarily on the ground. On the third beat, the horse shifts itself onto the left fore leg while the diagonal pair is momentarily still in contact with the ground, then, the horse rolls forward off the left fore, and is suspended briefly in the air while the right hind comes up behind to touch down again, repeating the cycle.
The foreleg that ends the cycle is called the "lead". In the case I just stated above, the horse was moving on the left lead. If you reversed all the legs, and instead began on the left hind, followed by the right hind and left fore, ending with the right fore, you'd be on the right lead.
Except in certain cases, such as the counter-canter (which isn't normally used for anything beside show), it is desirable for a horse to lead with its inside foreleg when on a circle, or turning. This way, they reach around the turn, which helps their gait remain smooth and balanced. This is especially important when a rider accompanies the horse, because a rider can hinder the reaching movement, putting the horse off balance and causing him to stumble.
This is an example of the left lead, which I talked about above:
Stage One. Stand-still.
(The canter is usually cued from the walk, or the standstill, because it's an easier transition, rather than speeding up from a trot.)
3O O2
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2O O1
3O O2
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2O
O1 First Beat
3O
O2
/Second Beat
2O
O1
3O Third Beat
O2
/
2O
O1
....Then a moment of suspension, and the right hind touches down again. As you can see, the canter is a rumbling short of gait, and is probably the nicest gait out there---in my opinion. Just something about it just feels right.
It's relatively easy to ride, as well.
To the ride the canter, you sit it out---which is easier to do than it is on the trot. It takes a little practice to find a position that feels right, and allows the horse to move while you stay in control. That's the tricky bit. It's easy to accidentally bounce in the saddle, or drop your reins. I've done it a multitude of times.
When sitting the canter, you must sit back in the saddle (not super noticeably, you just have to keep a "firm seat",) and let your hips, abdomen and tail-bone roll with the movement of the horse. Keep your heels down, and off the horse---you must have a light leg! It's a little hard to stay in the saddle. Your legs may wiggle around. To help this, envision bracing yourself down in the seat, but be careful not to swing the stirrups out in front of you and knuckle down. You don't use your legs much during the canter---in fact, you're really not supposed to except for the minor things that you'll always do during riding. You'll use your seat, and shoulders to stay in the saddle.
Clarification, the "seat" roughly means your bottom. Your weight. Your position in the saddle.
So that's why it helps to picture what you want to do, because subconsciously, you'll generally move your weight just slightly to match that. Sitting back---without slouching---helps too.
Sometimes, I sit up out of the saddle, which can be helpful if you're going uphill, or getting particularly fast and I need to adjust.
Just don't fall out unless you intend to! Beware of sudden turns or stops.
What about your reins? You must keep contact (not tight enough to pull the bit, but not hanging around his shoulders), and keep your arms off the horse, moving them with the horse. You want to retain the same pressure, so follow the horse's head with your arms, stay with him, like you do on the trot. You can't be hanging around in the background, watching him as you bounce about; you must stay "one" with the horse. And the force.
I absolutely love the canter, and though I haven't ridden in a while, I was teaching Jonesy to canter on cue, and he was doing pretty good then, (we'll see how he does on the 14th when I go riding with my Mom!)
It's very fun, and like I said, just feels right. If you're not scared of horses, and even if you are a little, it's one of the most enjoyable gaits, especially if you learn to do it correctly.
I'm still practicing, and often have to hang on to the saddle horn while cantering (NEVER hang onto the reins to steady yourself, instead, grab the saddle, or the horse's mane, but don't drop the reins.)
When cantering I usually end up holding the reins with one hand, pretty suave, and hanging onto the saddle horn with the other. I'm still using my upper body and seat to stay in the saddle, even if I have to support myself with the saddle horn often.
Tip: If you get unsteady, remain calm, and in your seat. Try not the fly forward, because depending on the horse, this can be different things---even "giddy-up". Slowly increase pressure on the reins to slow the horse. You have to give him the change to respond to a light pressure first, before you demand a response from him with a hard pressure.
Also, remember that if he doesn't slow down or stop right away, it doesn't always mean he's being disobedient. You could be sending him mixed signals, or he could be trying to get his balance.
(Left lead.)
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Walk
2O O4
1O O3
The walk is a four-beat gait, and each leg is moved separately. When walking, a horse's hooves fall in this sequence: left hind, left fore, right hind, right fore. Different breeds and individuals have varying smoothness to their walks. Ideally, when walking the advancing rear hoof will overstep the place where the respective fore hoof just landed. The more the horse oversteps, the smoother and more comfortable the walk becomes.
See that the left hind oversteps the “print” of the left fore.
2O O4
1O
2O O3
The faster walks are actually lateral forms of ambling gaits such as the running walk, singlefoot, and similar rapid, but smooth gaits. If a horse speeds up, and loses the regular four-beat cadence to his gait, he is no longer walking, and has swapped gaits.
You always sit the walk, and do not post. However, some riding instructors may have their students post at the walk to build muscle, or get used to posting without the momentum that comes from posting at the trot.
Trot
2O O1
1O O2
The trot is a two-beat, diagonal gait, with many variations and types, most of which are used for show. It is considered to be the second of the four most commonly thought of horse gaits, which are: Walk, Trot, Canter, Gallop.
The trot can be fast, or slow, depending on your horse and what he's trained to do. For example, harness racing horses move considerably faster than a western pleasure horse. However, the regular working trot averages 5 to 10 miles per hour.
The trot is where the diagonal pairs of legs move forward at the same time, making two beats. The left hind, and right fore. Then the right hind, and left fore. There is a moment of suspension between each beat, where the horse is completely off the ground. In some horses, this is barely noticeable.
The trot can generally be classified as “working”, “collected”, or “extended”, depending on the amount of engagement and collection of the horse. With riding experience, judging by the rhythm of the gait, one is able to distinguish a true, two-beat square-trot, from a four-beat intermediate ambling gait, such as the fox trot, or the “trocha” as sometimes seen in the Paso Fino horse.
There are three ways to ride the trot: sitting, posting, or half-seat.
Sitting offers the most of control of the horse, because the rider can influence the horse may using his or her weight, and seat. Personally, I prefer to post, which is when the rider rises on one beat, and sits on the second.
Half-seat is when you rise off the saddle, and remain like that. It offers the least control of the horse, but really frees up the horse's back. This position is rarely used at the trot, but is common at the canter, usually for jumping riders.
Sitting is preferred in show-ring western, and dressage, especially at the upper levels. When sitting, the rider can more efficiently ask for turns, slows, upward transitions and downward positions, but it can be very tiring for the rider. It is also a test of equitation, proving whether or not the rider can move quietly with the horse.
Sitting the trot can be uncomfortable and a hindrance for both the rider and the horse if not done correctly. On some horses, the trot can be very easy to sit, such as on western horses, whose prefer ed trot is the “jog” which is generally smoother and less bouncy then the working and extended trot variations of the English-style show horse.
Sitting the trot isn't as uncomplicated as it sounds. To sit the trot, the rider must remain firmly in her sit, without rising from the saddle. There is a slight forward and back movement of the lower back and stomach as the rider's hips follow both the up and down and side-to-side motion of the horse. To absorb the impact of the trot, the rider relaxes through the hips, the stomach and lower back, as well as the legs. The rider's upper body remains upright and quiet. The rider's hands remain steady. The lower legs remain relaxed and only come into play when the rider gives a leg aid, or cue. If the rider cannot properly sit the trot, then the posting (or “rising”) trot is preferred.
I've always preferred to post, but some people really don't like to. I rarely ever sit the trot, and it usually only for very brief moments of time, usually when disciplining Jonesy for trying to buck me off! I also rarely use “half-seat”, when you come up out of the saddle, except for climbing some hills, because I can better move my weight forward and stay with the horse.
Now, posting isn't just standing up in the stirrups, and sitting back down, which is how I used to think of it---maybe that's why I was always so tired after trying to post all those years ago when I first took lessons! Posting is actually more of a gliding movement. You never want to depend on your stirrups to get up, instead, you use the momentum of the trot, keeping your heels down, to bounce you out of the saddle. But you can't just hop around, you have to harness the momentum and remain in control. Jonesy has a swift, bouncy trot. He's a saddlebred---a show horse (though he hasn't much training), and picks his legs up high and long. When I lose control, or get on the wrong diagonal, he becomes noticeably harder to ride. You lose communication.
So, when beginning to post, imagine a string tied to your belt, or wrapped around your hips, pulling your forward. You want to move forward from the hip in a smooth, rolling motion. The biggest problem I see with beginner riders attempting to trot, is that they'll lunge forward with their shoulders and upper body, or just hop in place, landing heavily on the horse. The shoulders thing is understandable, you want to move forward, and that's the first method that comes into most people's minds, and when I remind them to keep their shoulders back, they'll simply just their chests forward instead, curling their backs and putting themselves and the horse off balance. Posting sounds tricky, but once you feel how smooth it is once you do it correctly, it's worth it. It's a simple, one-two, one-two movement.
Glide forward, and up just slightly. Many riders and instructors disagree with the mindset, saying you're supposed to be posting, not hip thrusting. These are the people that think posting is solely an up and down motion. It's not. The purpose of posting is to make the trot more comfortable and free for the horse, and more comfortable for you the rider as well. You glide from the hip staying with the horse. That is the key, to stay with the horse as you move, not getting in his way by bouncing way back on his hindquarters, hindering his hind legs. By moving from the hip, your back remaining straight, and your shoulders poised. Your legs remain light, because you're not lifting yourself up with your calves, your just using the momentum and energy the horse offers.
Also, remember not to smack back down in the saddle when sitting back down. The gliding motion goes both ways; you have to gently slid back into the saddle. But don't get excited and go bone-less. Be ready to glide back up again, but try not to be too tense. Slamming down in the saddle is a punishment to the horse.
Now, I won't pretend to be perfect at the trot. My posting is a bit sloppy, and I sometimes slip and flop back on the horse. But the trick is to recover yourself. Adopt a different trot position for a moment, and make sure your reins are in your hands properly. Then settle back into the correct position, or your favorite, and keep riding.
There is one other thing I'd like to mention about posting.... When sitting the trot, and using the half-seat position, diagonals don't really matter, but when posting (particularly when you're turning, or in show) it is very, very important.
The trot is a two beat gait, with two diagonal sets of legs moving at alternating times. One set, suspension, second set, suspension. Whichever foreleg is reaching out, is the diagonal you are on. So, if I'm riding Jonesy and he's reaching lifted his right foreleg, and his left hind leg, we are on the right diagonal. The reason diagonals are important is because of how the horse is wired to move. If he's going around a turn, and you're sitting like a burr in the saddle, and he can't move his legs, he's going to stumble, or stiffen up as he tries to keep moving despite the fact that you're making it very hard. So there is a saying in horse back riding, “post with the leg on the wall.”
If you're turning left, post on the right diagonal, and sit on the left one.
If you're turning right, post of the left diagonal, and sit on the right one.
This frees up the horse, and makes it easier for him to balance as he's turning. Also, if you post on the same diagonal all the time, it will wear the horse, un-train him, or create a sore.
If you find that you're riding on the incorrect diagonal, all you have to do is sit two beats, or posting two beats, then resume normal posting. I prefer to sit two beats, because I can more easily feel the rhythm of the horse, and am less likely to skip three beats, which would make me stay on the same diagonal I was trying to change.
It can be very hard, and quite confusing at first, trying to figure out the difference between the diagonals, and understand which one you're supposed to post on, but eventually it comes naturally, and becomes easy to feel when you're on the wrong diagonal. For beginner, look at the horse's shoulders. If the fence of the arena is to your right, look at his right shoulder and watch how it moves, when it goes up, and he reaches out with that leg, you must rise, and when he drops it, you must also drop. Reverse if the arena fence was on your left side.
The lady in the video might even explain posting better than I just did! So if you're looking to learn how to post, I'd suggest you watch it. She puts it very simply, and it's very easy to understand.
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Currently: Just this evening, I gave Perry the Duck an injection of penicillin as the next stage in his treatment.
Previously: After my parents got home on the day I found him, I soon located his wound.
He has a tear in his right wing. It looks to me like a small predator, a cat maybe, caught him around the front of his wing, behind the wrist, and he jerked away, tearing the soft membrane between the humerus and radius, also breaking the thin ligament that spans this space. Through this tear, you can see the radius and the broken ligament, which is shriveled against his wing and looks like a wire.
I treated this area with the ointment several times, usually before bed, after he had another bath. Perry has been spending his time alternating between being held, resting in his kennel, swimming in the tub, and staying in a drop-pen outside---which is equipped with a choice blanket and a waterer for him to get in, and drink from.
He has been drinking well, outside from his dish, and in the tub. He moves well also, flapping his wing, and waddling and swimming. However, he cannot fly, and I doubt will ever be able to again. He is stuck being a pet duck, from now on, and I think that will go pretty well, because he seems to be warming up to us (me, anyway) and his situation.
I have two concerns right now:infection, and the fact that he is apparently not eating, or not eating well.
Looking at the food issue, I have given him greens and chick starter, along with various tidbits from the table and pantry. I have no proof that he has taken any of the greens (administered to him in his water and tub), though he might have taken some of the chick starter last night---I left the bowl in his kennel and he tipped it over and made a mess, however there were crumbs in his bill, and so maybe he got a bit down.
I've tried hand-feeding him, and just plunging his bill into the food, and while the latter method worked better, he still spat out pretty much everything I gave him. Viciously. Despite this, he appears to be getting along alright, and seems of normal weight.
Now, as for the infection problem: I noticed last night during his bath that the forearm muscles were hardening, and inflamed just slightly. It bled a little as he cleaned it during his bath, and I washed it and treated it as usual. This morning, it was even harder, and notably more swollen. So we opted to give him a shot of penicillin, which I just injected into his breast. I gave him 1 cc. Hopefully this will help. He's a fierce little thing, and his wing doesn't seem to bother him in the slightest, however if it gets any worse it will become a real problem.
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Oh, and he is officially a male ruddy duck, in winter feather-garb. It took me a while to decide, but I'm now reasonably convinced that's what he is.
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I'll post some pictures of him soon!
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Things have been going pretty good here, though nothing new has really happened. I could talk for quite sometime about how the riding has been going---though I'm sure most of you, if not all of you, wouldn't care to miss that, so I'll leave that out until something really astounding happens.
Speaking of astounding, I got a Facebook. Yup, intense stuff in that boat.
Also, my parents are out of town on a conference for my Dad's work. They're chillin' in Florida right now; I wonder if it's any warmer there then it is here? The nights have been very cold here lately, and tonight it's supposed to get near freezing, so I'll be taking a box with extra hay out to my Marans chicks, who have been moved to the chicken lot, in a separate pen from the other chickens obviously, and have a brood-light. But tonight I think they may need some more warmth. I really don't want them to get sick.
Because my parents are gone, our Grandma and the girls---Dolly and Jill---have been staying at the house with us. I think we've already worn them out! At least the dogs are tired anyway, it's a hard life hiding from our big, wily mongrels. ;)
In interest of more updating, I'll say I'm now 16, and little Rosie is now 6. Our birthday was about a week ago, and we spent it hanging out with our Arkansas cousins at Grandma's house. Jordan and them came down for a few days to work, and it was good to see them again. They got me the "Son of Neptune" book for my birthday, which is the newest Percy Jackson book. If you're into cheesy humor, that's certainly going to be a book worth checking out. Especially if your into fiction. It was real good, and quite funny, and I really enjoyed it.
In other news, I had a dream the other night that I was a rogue demon hunter.
Creepy much?
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